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guiltyasdave · 1 month

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help me hold onto you

pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x mutant! f!reader

word count: ~3.5k

summary: Logan deals with feeling guilty after he's accidentally cut you with his claws in his sleep.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that can be pulled, no use of y/n, Logan lifts reader up but he's superhumanly strong, so-, graphic description of an injury, graphic description of violence, angst, nightmares, Logan's pov, fighting as foreplay, unprotected p in v, rough sex, biting, praise kink, a lot of animalistic behavior due to their mutations, like they're just a little... primal, it's cute i swear, also reader looks like a human being it's just the mannerisms, fluff

a/n: guess i'm a multi fandom writer now? this literally came to me in a fever dream, very much like the logan brainrot itself lol. this is my first time writing for the man, after watching the movies - also for the first time - last week, so please be gentle with me <3 something very similar happens in the origins movie and i wanted them to explore that more, but alas, i had to do it myself.

massive thanks to @kiwisbell for assuring me that this idea isn't terrible and for freaking out about logan with me in general, to @catchallfangirl for coming up with the whole cat theme and for being so supportive, to @sizzlingcloudmentality for matching my freak and taking the cat theme to the next level, for helping me plot and for being an amazing beta reader, and to @javier-pena for listening to me rant about this idea and being so lovely and supportive <3

dividers by @saradika-graphics who is a queen <3

notifications blog -> @guiltyasdavenotifs & full masterlist -> here

Most nights, Logan sleeps easier when you’re in bed with him. Your body pressed against his, your skin soft and warm against his bare chest. One of his thighs between your legs where you’ve wrapped yourself around him, your touch moving over his torso aimlessly, fingers curling into his chest hair, your hands kneading his flesh in your sleep. The soothing little purrs that emit from your chest when you’re sound asleep. None of it bothers him, no matter how many times it disturbs his own rest.

It keeps him grounded, feeling you next to him. He’d rather spend the whole night somewhere in that haze between waking and sleeping, listening to your sounds, your breath fanning against his skin, than being pulled under into the depths of his subconsciousness.

He’d rather open his eyes to see you disentangling your limbs from his, stretching your whole body, arching against him as you yawn.

He’d rather greet you with a smiling “Good morning, kitten,” waiting for that adorable little crease to appear between your brows when you pout up at him.

“Did I do it again?”

He doesn’t hide his grin as he nods, growing wider when you flop back against the cushions with a groan.

“What exactly?”

“All of it.”

Your sorry comes out muffled as you hide your face behind your hands.

“It’s okay,” he says, leaning over you to pull your hands away and kiss the pout off your lips. Caressing that spot under your chin with two fingers, watching you go all soft, baring your throat to him. “I like it.”

He would much rather wake up like this.

But it’s been a long week and he’s exhausted. Exhausted enough to get lulled into a deep sleep, encased in the safe cloud of your warm body against his and your touch on his skin. Exhausted enough to dream. And his dreams are not a safe place.

His eyes fly open with a shout, his whole body jolting upwards, every muscle pulled taut. He doesn’t even register the claws shooting out between his knuckles, all of his instincts screaming at him to fight.

He’s only faintly aware of the sudden yelp of pain from beside him, the movement of something jerking away from him.

“Logan,” your voice rings through the buzzing in his ears. Smaller hands landing on his shoulders, fighting to hold him steady.

It takes a few disoriented blinks before he recognizes the familiar bedroom, a few more deep breaths to stop his body from shaking. To clear the fog in his head enough to understand what you’re saying.

“It’s me, Logan. You’re safe, everyone’s safe, it’s okay.”

His eyes find yours in the semi-darkness. Wide with worry, but firmly trained on his face, repeating that everything’s okay. He finally registers the familiar weight of you straddling him, understands that it’s your fingers digging into his shoulders.

He’s still panting, not daring to look away from your face again. The one tether that keeps him from getting lost in his mind again.

“Are you with me?” you ask, your voice softer now.

He manages a nod, tries to smile, to wipe the deep worry of your face, but he’s not sure if his mouth even twitches.

As the feeling slowly returns to his body, he notices something else. A kind of wetness, warm and sticky where your right hand is connected to his skin. The unmistakable tang of iron in the air. He stretches to turn on a bedside lamp, jostling you along with his movement. A quiet whimper hits his ears, so low that he’s sure you tried to suppress it.

With a new kind of panic surging through him, he grabs hold of your arm, bringing it to his eye level.

Three scratches ooze in deep red, just beneath your wrist. It forces a gasp from him, eyes dancing frantically between the wounds on your arm and your face. How much blood did you lose already while you were busy helping him? As if he deserved it.

“Fuck, I’m— I’m so sorry baby, we gotta—” He stumbles over his own words, grasping at you almost blindly, panicked tears blurring his vision. He did this.

“Logan,” you say, still so inexplicably calm. “It’s fine. Look. It’s fine.”

You gently pry his fingers off your arm and bring your wrist up to your mouth. Your tongue darts out, drawing long licks against your marred skin, collecting the blood and gliding over the cuts in your flesh.

It pains him to watch, but it’s the least he can do. The least he owes you. He watches you clean the blood off, watches as the wounds start shrinking at the touch of your saliva, as the skin smoothes over before his very eyes until there’s only three thin marks left, a shade lighter than the rest of your skin.

“Look,” you tell him again, extending your arm towards him. “I told you it’s okay.”

He knows you can do this, of course he does. Has watched you multiple times, his fascination with your powers never wavering. How fluidly you move, how quick you attack, how skilled you are at surviving. You just never had to survive him.

You lean down on top of him until your whole torso rests on his, your thighs still on either side of him, burrowing your head into his chest. “Which war did you dream about?” you ask quietly.

Most of the time, the dreams don’t grant him the mercy to zero in on one single memory. It’s a constant stream, one fight after the other, until all he knows is shouting, fighting, blood and death.

“All of them.”

You sigh deeply, your breath cool against his sweat-dampened skin. Raising your head a little, you start placing kisses on his chest, pressing your lips into his skin where you can feel the faint beating of his heart.

“I wish I could kiss this better, too,” you mumble.

He chuckles humorlessly, one hand reaching into your hair to scratch at your scalp. You shudder at the touch, an approving little purr traveling up your throat.

“It’s okay now,” he mutters, leaning in to inhale the scent of your hair. “Just— I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

It sounds so simple, falling from your lips like this. But it’s no match for the aching guilt that’s already eating at him, the questions of what if that start swirling through his mind.

Your body is growing heavier on top of him as you relax, your breaths evening out and your eyelids fluttering shut. It soothes him, has his own breathing slowing down, but he can’t risk falling asleep again. Not like this, not with your body so close to his.

“What are you— Logan?” comes your instant protest when he moves you to your side of the mattress, your eyes flying back open, wide and mildly confused.

“I could’ve killed you,” he mutters. It could have happened so easily. Just a little deeper, just a slightly different spot.

“No, you couldn’t,” you quip, arching an eyebrow at him. “Cats have nine lives, remember?” You sneak another quick kiss on his chest before finding his gaze again, a teasing smile on your lips. “Even kittens.”

It’s an attempt to lighten the mood, to make him laugh. He knows that. You hate the pet name he’s given you.

“And you’re not gonna waste one on me,” he grits out.

Hurt flashes over your face, more pain in your eyes than when there was an actual wound on your arm.

“It wouldn’t be—”

“Don’t you dare say it wouldn’t be a waste.”

The words come out as a low growl, aggressive enough to send most anyone running. You don’t run.

Your animal doesn’t like it when he growls at you. He can feel the tension rolling off of you, your hair probably standing on end. Gritting your teeth, you take a deep breath, release your fingers’ grip from digging into the sheets.

“Let’s talk about it in the morning,” you tell him, resignation in your voice.

Your eyes fall shut again, your head for once resting on your own pillow instead of his chest. He misses the weight of it instantly. You doze off quickly, your hands still pawing weakly at his side, like your body can’t help it. He almost pulls you closer himself.

While you sleep, Logan forces his own eyes to stay wide open, staring unseeingly into the darkness.

It’s a quiet day. You had tried talking to him, tried to convince him that it’s okay, that it’s fine. He can’t keep listening to you insisting that him almost killing you is no big deal. He should have known, should have been more aware of the risk instead of letting himself get lost in the blissful sensation of your body curled around his every night. You’ve trusted him so completely, only for him to let you down.

Just like he always does, the voice in his head whispers.

No matter how many times you swear that you can take care of yourself, he should still be protecting you, not actively putting you in danger while you’re fucking asleep. It’s happened once now, so it can happen again, and he knows that he could never forgive himself.

He knows that he’s hurting your feelings. Sees how your brows knit together when he barely kisses you back throughout the day. How you bite your lip when the way you’re butting your head against his doesn’t make him chuckle like it usually does.

He should be angry at himself. He is. But you shouldn’t be the one to catch the brunt of it, and it makes him feel even worse. You always say that he should talk about his feelings more, that it would help to let them out. He suspects that you’re right. He just doesn’t know how.

By evening, you’ve grown uncharacteristically quiet, but he keeps catching your burning glares at him when you think he isn’t looking. Finally, after you’ve stared at him for what felt like an eternity and he’s pointedly ignored you, you seem to snap.

“Can you stop it?!” It leaves your mouth in a hiss, triggering his instincts before the words even register in his brain.

“Stop what?” he growls back.

Your fingers curl as a low snarl escapes you. Normally, neither of you lets your animalistic side take over like that. Normally, you’re good at soothing each other.

But tonight, he can feel the energy crackle between you, the tension begging to be released.

“You know what! This fucking— sulking or whatever it is you think you’re doing!”

He rises to his feet, pulling up to his full height. One of your hands twitches.

“I’m not—”

You charge at him with an angry shout before another word can leave his mouth. You’re on him in a flash, grabbing onto his arm and letting your momentum carry you until you’re behind him, your nails digging into his shoulders until you’re perched on his backside.

Whipping his head around, he bares his teeth at you, growls rumbling in his chest. You angrily hiss in his face and swing a hand at him in return, leaving angry red scratches down his cheek. They heal and fade as quickly as they came, but a triumphant grin flashes over your features regardless.

“Come on, Logan,” you breathe into his ear. The edge in your voice sends fire straight through him. “Fight. You’re not gonna break me.” Your canines nip at his earlobe, somewhere between affectionate and challenging.

He tries shaking you off, but your grip on him only tightens. He collects a fist of your hair instead, pulling harshly to keep your teeth away from his throat.

“Enough,” he grits, trying desperately to regain control, to become more human again, to smother the primal need to match your aggression.

He finally grabs hold of one of your hands as well and manages to rip you off his back and in front of him, holding on tight to your upper arms to keep you in place. You’re snarling and twisting in his hold, but he doesn’t let up.

“Enough,” he repeats, searching your wild eyes. Your movements slow down a fraction, giving him a moment of hope, before you surge forward and bury your teeth in his lower lip. It hurts like hell and he can taste blood on his tongue instantly.

“Fight me,” you demand again, baring your teeth at him.

He pulls you back by your hair with a roar, gathers both your wrists in one large hand and holds you steady. You could still break free if you wanted to, he thinks. He might be stronger than you, but your movements turn almost liquid when you want to escape, he’s watched it more than once.

The pain in his lip has already subsided, but his blood is still coating your mouth, a stark contrast against the white shimmer of your teeth.

“Are you done?” His voice is harsh, his jaw clenched, carefully keeping the desire to strike back at bay.

You deflate a little, some of the wildness draining from you before his eyes.

“I just— I’m not fragile, I don’t want you to be scared of— of touching me.” Your voice grows small at the end and he’s horrified to see wetness glistening in your eyes.

The fight mode leaves him as fast as it came, replaced with the overwhelming urge to care, to protect what’s his. His pack, in a way.

He gathers you into his arms, curling himself around you. It feels good to hold you close again. Breathing you in deeply, he smells the adrenaline still oozing from you, hears the rapid beating of your heart. But mostly, it’s your unique scent, one that he thinks he could recognize anywhere. His tether to this world.

“I’m sorry, kitten. I’m not scared of touching you,” he mumbles into your hair.

You sniffle against his chest, but when you finally raise your head to look at him, new determination is glinting in your eyes.

“Prove it,” you coo, tracing the shape of his lips with one fingertip. “Please.”

That he can do. He nips at your finger playfully, your responding giggle the best sound he’s heard all day, before he shoves it out of the way to connect his lips with yours. It’s rough, a clashing of teeth and tongues, the tension that has been building and warping all day finally finding a release.

You gasp into his mouth when his tongue moves against yours, your hands pulling at his hair, needing him closer and closer still, never close enough. His groan at the taste of you travels through you both as he’s grasping at your clothes.

He longs for your warm skin under his palms, longs for how you lean into his touch so needy all the damn time. You pull away with a moan, helping him to pull your sweater over your head and stepping out of your jeans as he sheds his flannel.

You bring both hands up to cup his face, to search his eyes. “Don’t be gentle,” you plead, “please, I need—”

You don’t have to keep talking for him to understand what you need. I’m not scared of touching you.

With a growl, his hands find your hips, holding you tight as he’s walking you backwards until your ass connects with the backside of the couch. He crowds you in, paws at every inch of bare skin he can reach, his cock already hard and aching at your soft warmth and the sweet mewls that tumble from your lips.

Hitching one of your legs up to open you for him, he grinds himself against your barely covered center. A keening sound escapes you at the friction from his jeans against your sensitive flesh and he allows himself a grin.

“Feels good, kitten?”

You nod mindlessly, holding onto him and rocking your hips against his while you’re letting him move you however he sees fit.

“Do you want more?”

“Please, Logan.”

You sound so sweet when you’re like this, when you put your body into his hands. I’m not scared of touching you.

Setting your leg back down, he watches with hunger as you hastily take off your underwear while he pulls the white tank top over his head and opens his belt buckle. He could swear that your pupils dilate a fraction at the sound of it, filling him with a possessive sense of pride.

As soon as his jeans hit the floor, he’s all over you again, palming the weight of your breasts, tugging and pinching at your nipples as he swallows down your mewls. You’re soaking wet already, covering his cock in your slick as he nudges against your folds. He’s impatient to feel you all around him, to sink into you, to stake his claim again and again and again.

He normally works you open longer, gives you more time to prepare, but your impatience is just as apparent as his own, with the way you whine and plead for him, your fingers digging into his flesh, trying to pull him nearer.

He follows your pull, pressing your backside into the couch once more as he crowds your space. Leaning in, he kisses you deeply, licking into your mouth, one hand buried in your hair and holding you close.

“I love you,” he breathes against your lips as he lets go of you. I’m not scared of touching you.

You smile softly, echoing the sentiment back at him.

A surprised squeak escapes you when he turns you around suddenly, bending you over the back of the couch. He lines himself up at your dripping entrance, desperate to fill you up, to give you what you’re craving.

“Not gentle?” he rasps once more, one hand curling around your neck from behind, both in reassurance and dominance.

“Not gentle,” comes your breathy answer. It breaks off into a shriek of a moan when he slams into you with one long thrust, stretching your tight walls around his length. The sting of his sudden intrusion has to hurt at least a little, but you push back against him eagerly, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

Logan holds himself still for a moment, mesmerized by the sight of your squirming body and your needy little sounds, before he pulls out almost entirely, only to push back in forcefully. Your toes barely reach the floor with how far he’s bent you over, lifting you into the air with every harsh thrust, but he’s holding you steady with ease, both hands possessively spanning over your waist, positioning you exactly where he wants you.

“Taking me so fucking well, like you were made for me,” he growls, gently scratching over your back with his nails. You arch up to chase his touch, tightening around him, almost purring with pleasure. Wetness pours out of you, coating his cock. I’m not scared of touching you. Not when it feels this good.

“M–more, please,” you whine, blindly reaching backwards to him.

He leans over you, cages you in, his arms on either side of you, his breath hot against your skin. His teeth sink into the back of your neck, not so deep as to draw blood, but enough that he knows the indents will stay there for quite some time.

Your whole body goes limp at the sensation, a surprised mewl escaping you as you clench around him wildly.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his own hips stuttering, “give it to me kitten, come on—”

He reaches around your hip, fingers teasing through your slick folds and up to your clit, rubbing with slight pressure as he keeps pistoning into your heat.

“Logan—” you gasp, getting almost impossibly tight, before you shatter around him. He keeps thrusting into you, keeps up his ministrations on your clit, until the pulsing of your cunt around him sends him over the edge as well. He spills his release deep inside of you, the thought of leaving a part of him with you always filling him with a primal satisfaction.

Pulling you up instantly, he gathers you in his arms, your body soft and pliant against his chest. Walking around the couch and sinking into the cushions to lie down, he gently moves you until your weight is resting on top of him, his embrace wrapping around you.

You stir a little, needing a moment to take in your position. The look of uncertainty that you give him damn near breaks his heart. “Is this okay?” You sound uncertain, too.

God, he’s such an idiot.

“Yeah, kitten. It’s— fuck, of course it’s okay.”

thank you so so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed, and if you did, a comment or a reblog would absolutely make my day :)

#logan howlett #wolverine #james logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x female reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x female reader #x men #hugh jackman #logan howlett fanfiction #janas fics

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sttoru · 9 months

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·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒. love; you wonder if the king of curses is capable of feeling that emotion too. so, you take on a more direct approach to ask him.

word count. 1.7k

note. sukuna brainrot sorry. . .

tags. true form!sukuna x female reader. angst (+ comfort) / fluff. size difference mentions. eh sukuna’s a bit mean. established relationship, but you’re like v early into the relationship.

it was a calm sunday evening. both sukuna and you had fulfilled your duties for the day. all you needed after working hard was the presence of the person you admire most. thus, you had made your way over to sukuna’s chambers. to your surprise, you already found him sitting on the engawa which led to the connected backyard.

sukuna noticed your presence, but didn't utter a word. he simply shot you a glance before continuing to stare into the distance. he seemed to be in deep thought about something. you didn’t want to bother him when he was like this, but the voice in your head told you to stay.

you silently kneel next to him and gather your hands in your lap. your eyes automatically move to focus on sukuna again. two of his hands are supporting his weight as they rest flat on the wooden surface. the other set rests limply on his thigh.

your gaze falls on his bottom left hand. the one he uses to kill, but also the one he uses to hold and caress you. you could easily recall its feel without having to touch him; rough, callused and warm. you reach your hand out towards his without hesitation.

sukuna’s eyes dart over to your small stature next to him. he allows you to grab his hand, to pull it over to your lap and let it rest palm up on your thighs. it’s almost funny. how big his hand is in comparison to yours.

the comfortable silence continues. the rustles of the leaves and the water movements in the koi pond in the yard are soothing to the soul. your finger traces the lines on sukuna’s palm, following them until they end before switching to the other.

the king of curses watches you play around with his hand. still with that stoic expression on his face. however, feeling your delicate touch on his skin and seeing you smile to yourself for whatever reason makes the corners of his lips curl up. for a split second.

a faint, amused grin. you sure are an interesting creature in his eyes.

“sukuna, can i ask you something?” you break the silence with a question. there is an unknown feeling in your chest; one that makes you restless at night. your smile slowly drops into a small pout when you think about what you want to ask him.

not a single action goes unnoticed by the man next to you. he lifts an eyebrow, but other than that, there’s no reaction visible. he answers you with a hum of approval, “mmh.”

you lift your head and look up at him. sukuna was already staring right at you—his piercing eyes catch your soft ones. he squints. there is something wrong with the way you are looking at him. normally, the smile you give him would reach your eyes. now it doesn’t.

that same smile completely disappears over time.

“do you.. are you..” you stammer. you don't know how to articulate your question. it’s probably dumb. to both you and him. sukuna watches you struggle to ask him whatever is on your mind. he firmly grabs your wrist and squeezes it. not too hard. he doesn't want to inflict any unneccesary pain.

sukuna sighs. a heavy sigh. one thing he dislikes is when you leave him in the dark. it isn’t the first time you did so during the past week. asking him if you could ask him a question and when he grants you the permission to, you back down or change topics.

it’s getting tiresome.

“spit it out.” sukuna grumbles. he pulls your body closer to his by your wrist, your arm stretched upwards with your hand hovering near the side of his face. his breath hits your wrist, causing goosebumps to form on your skin.

crimson orbs stare right into your soul. you gulp and feel your body warm up. when you try to avert your gaze, one of sukuna's free hands grabs you by the jaw and steers your head to face him. his thumb presses down on your chin. he’s not letting it go today. he needs answers.

before sukuna could add to his words, you breathe in sharply. like you’re ready to ask him what had been weighing on your mind ever since a couple days back. oh, stupid it sure is. you know. you’re probably making it too big of a deal. when it isn’t. not in the slightest.

your eyes water. you blink the tears away. you don’t want to embarrass yourself any further by sobbing. your bottom lip trembles as you finally muster up the courage;

“do you love me?”

there it goes. you try to squirm away from sukuna’s grasp after that. you feel flustered. embarrassed. you just want to crawl into a hole and rot.

sukuna does not tighten his grip on you. instead, he loosens them. your wrist slips from his hand. your chin no longer restricted by his fingers. he lets you go.

a painful sting in your heart. you secretly hoped that he’d resist. pull you closer maybe. you don’t know why you expected that. you learnt not to get your hopes up around him and yet you always wish for him to do something.

a silence falls between the two of you again. you act like you didn’t ask him anything. you try to ignore the way sukuna clenched his jaw. how he subtly clicked his tongue. how he let you shuffle away from him.

you clear your throat. with hesistance this time, you gently grab one of sukuna’s hands again. that he allows you. you appreciate that. at least it means he isn’t completely upset. you know sukuna does not allow just anyone to touch him so without permission.

you hold tightly onto his hand like it’s your last hope. his fingers don’t close around yours, though. you don’t mind.

“what a foolish question.” sukuna scoffs and looks the other way. his voice was hoarse. probably from not speaking for quite what time. you silently nod. an expected answer, at last.

you stay silent after that. it hurts. more than you want it to have hurt. maybe it was too early into your relationship to ask such a question. you got into it, knowing fully well how harsh the man next to you could be sometimes.

what you can’t deny is that soft spot sukuna has for you. you see it. uraume sees it. the maids see it. sukuna probably.. knows of it, but doesn’t speak on it. he does not speak up about his feelings much anyway.

but it’s visible in his actions. the king of curses allows you to say and do whatever you want around him. he makes sure his subordinates treat you well. he looks at you with a hint of softness hidden in those red eyes. when he touches you, it’s firm but gentle. like he desperately craves to touch you, though knows not to make that yearning accidentally hurt you in any way.

the latter is what you love most about his soft spot for you. sukuna handles you with utmost care. even uraume had told you that it surprises them greatly whenever they witness the way their master treats you in general.

especially at night. you can’t count the amount of times you quite literally melted into his arms. those four, beefy arms that know just how to make you feel protected. you never sleep in unease. you know that nothing could hurt you when you’re laying against his chest.

sukuna’s actions speak volumes. despite all of that, you wish he’d at least tell you with his words. how much you mean to him.

“my apologies.” you give up. for today, you’ll let him be. the slight irritation in his voice earlier nearly made you cry. he needs more time and you’ll give him that. you slowly detach your small hand from his big, warm one, “i won’t ask you that again.”

sukuna frowns and grumbles something under his breath. you think it’s still because of your previous question, yet his gaze tells a different story. he narrows his eyes as he glares down at his now empty hand. you connect the dots once you see the man take a glimpse at your hand on your lap.

your touch. the sudden abscence of your touch.

“i didn’t say you could do that.” sukuna murmurs. his tone low and maybe even upset to a certain degree. you blink a few times and freeze on spot. the king of curses starts to get grumpy the longer you fail to take the hint.

he kisses his teeth out of impatience. sukuna tightly gets ahold of your hand again and softly yanks it towards him. you squeal as your body stumbles closer to his.

sukuna holds eye contact with you as he brings your hand to his mouth. his tongue wets a spot on your palm—specifically the area that connects your thumb with your wrist. your lips part, your tummy doing flips from the sudden touch.

“don’t let go again,” he bares his teeth before slightly sinking them into the soft flesh. it isn’t a hard bite. more a nibble that leaves a faint mark. what you didn’t expect was for sukuna to kiss that same place after marking it. his thumb runs over that exact spot as well, “got that?”

you nod. you’re unable to refuse him. those feelings of disappointment from earlier long forgotten. you intertwine your fingers with sukuna’s and unlike the previous instant, his fingers do curl back around yours. your skin is still tingling from the feeling of sukuna’s kiss.

the king of curses keeps your entwined hands on his lap this time. he stares off into the distance for a couple seconds before returning his gaze to you. he scans your face and finds what he had been missing;

that tender smile of yours. it was back, tugging at your lips. one of your fingers resumes its soothing motion on his rough skin again. sukuna’s face relaxes. his jaw unclenches.

“good.” sukuna nods at the sight. he turns to watch the night sky again—secretly (yet not so secretly) enjoying this moment of peace.

you’re content with how that ended. and, you’re sure that you don’t mind if it takes days, weeks or even months for your relationship to fully blossom. when you’re with sukuna, one thing is clear: actions do speak louder than words.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk angst #sukuna angst

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nereidprinc3ss · 5 months

Note

Happy 2k babe! I have a request for fluffy Spencer smut based on the song "touch tank" by Quinnie! (the song gives me like golden retriever vibes so maybe you could put something about reader playing with his hair in there? I don't know I'm having later seasons fluffy hair Spencer brainrot and I never make requests, obviously feel free to ignore or change things if this is too specific! <3)

hi angel babe!!! i love this song!! and i too am always having later seasons fluffy haired spencer brainrot!! i wrote this super quick, please let me know if its any good, ILY!!! xo

warnings/tags: fem!reader, softdom!spence, sub reader, fingering, oral f receiving, sorta kinda overstimulation, implicit consent, praise n stuff, not proofread, written at 9 pm on a tuesday night, so fluffy

18+ (smut)

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Spencer is clearly almost asleep on the couch next to you. That’s one of many things you find endlessly fascinating and charming about him—his ability to fall asleep anywhere at any time within minutes.

So you probably shouldn’t speak. But the stakes are low; it’s barely 7:30 in the evening.

“Spence?” You whisper. His eyes don’t open, but his thumb goes back to making little passes where it’s settled over your hip.

“Hm?”

“Don’t fall asleep.”

He smiles, slight but beautiful—yet his eyes remain stubbornly closed.

“Why not?”

“’Cause I want you to be awake.”

“Then you can’t keep playing with my hair like that.”

You pout as if he can see you.

“But I like playing with your hair.”

Spencer hums, and you can tell you’re losing him again as you continue carding your hand through stupidly soft locks.

“One or the other. You can’t have both.”

“I love you both, though,” you complain. “I don’t know who to pick.”

The grin has been steadily fading from his relaxed face but it flickers back to life for a moment.

“I’m getting a haircut tomorrow. That should make it easier for you.”

“What?”

It’s the genuine horror in your voice that finally gets him to open his eyes. A little line appears between his brows as he regards you with bleary eyes.

“What what?”

“You didn’t consult me!”

The momentarily tensed muscles in his face relax and he rolls his eyes affectionately before craning his neck to kiss your forehead.

“I’m not in the habit of requesting your approval before I make choices like that.”

“Spencer, please don’t cut your hair,” you beg, genuinely distraught. “You can’t. It’s so so pretty.”

“It’s too long, baby. I don’t want to grow it out again.”

“You don’t have to grow it out! Just don’t get it any shorter! It’s perfect how it is,” you insist. Spencer narrows his eyes as you plead with him. But you stand firm in your position. His hair is sort of shaggy, sure—too long to be considered cropped and too short to be considered long. It’s like a beautiful curly halo and it’s perfect playing-with length. “I’m serious. I’m asking you to not cut it short, please. This is what I want for my birthday.”

“Your birthday’s not even—”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top? I love your hair so much and I love you more but I just really don’t want you to cut it, please—”

He’s laughing when he silences you with a soft kiss, and you melt, sighing against him as his hand slides up and down the back of your thigh. When he knows you’ve been sufficiently soothed, he pulls away, still smiling.

“Oh my god, baby—are you about to cry?”

“Stop!” you whine, burying your face into a throw pillow and screwing your eyes shut. Your nose crinkles up with embarrassment. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and though he’s no longer outright laughing, traces of humor still color his lowered voice as he kisses all over the side of your face. “I had no idea you felt that way. I didn’t realize I’d be causing you so much emotional distress if I cut my hair.”

You sniffle away any unfortunate emotional reactions and turn your head back to him. He’s ducked down slightly, still peppering kisses over your jaw and neck, and you lace your fingers through the contentious hair.

“Obviously I’m not the boss of you. If it makes you uncomfortable I want you to cut it. But I really like it how it is.”

He hums against your throat and the vibrations send a chill down your spine. You arch against him unconsciously.

“You are definitely the boss of me. I don’t know anyone else who I like receiving orders from so much.”

“Hotch,” you whisper, and you can feel Spencer’s teeth against your neck as he smiles and presses another loving kiss to the sensitive spot above your collarbone.

“Not the kind of orders I was talking about. And I don’t particularly care what Hotch thinks of my hair, honey.” He kisses tenderly until he earns a tiny whimper from you—which sates him enough to raise his head until you’re eye-level again. His hand, however, has other plans—it creeps south, slipping under the waistband of your pajama pants. “What if we compromise? I just get it trimmed so it doesn’t keep getting in my eyes when I have a loaded gun in my hands, yeah?” You nod dutifully, looping your arms around his neck as his fingers dip beneath your underwear. When you don’t reply verbally, he prompts meaningfully, “okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, voice small as you look into his searching eyes.

For a few moments, when he finally pushes his fingers against your clit and begins rubbing with slow, gentle strokes, his eyes are everywhere on your face—then they focus back on your eyes, watching with that habitually intense interest permeated with a sense of devotion—like he wants to see exactly what pleasure looks like reflected in your irises. Like he could see through them to your brain and watch your dopamine transmitters working overtime. A soft moan escapes through parted lips, which seems to spur Spencer on. He drags more arousal over your aching bud and openly chuckles at your airy sigh of pleasure, unable to resist from giving you a short kiss.

“Feels good?”

“Mhm,” you breathe.

“Mhm,” he agrees, kissing you again just as quickly before pulling back to study your face once more. “Pretty girl.”

“You’re pretty,” you insist, with what little brain power is available to you as you rake one hand through his hair. He smiles, eyes pinging between your own and your mouth like he can’t decide where to look.

“I’m pretty?” he asks, speaking over another quiet, yet unabashed moan. You nod, hips bucking slightly off the couch cushion as he speed up the motion of his hand. The grin widens and his soft amber eyes soften further. “You’re so sweet.”

You give him a moan he can’t ignore and he takes it as a signal to slip two fingers into you, sighing in what sounds like relief just as your breath catches. The way he seems to feel your pleasure will never get less erotic. Once he’d explained it—something to do with mirror neurons—but whatever the reason, watching the way his arousal rises with yours is exhilarating.

A squeaking sound is expelled from your lungs and your whole body tenses, propelling you maybe an inch upward involuntarily.

His lips part the same as yours—but only allowing another dry laugh to pass between them.

“Relax. I’ll come to you.”

You hum as he leans down and kisses you back into the pillow—a proper kiss, this time, lips parted and the tip of his tongue grazing yours—all the while, still pumping his fingers much deeper than your own could ever manage. Each moan and gasp he allows you to release freely, only barely parting from your lips every few seconds to let you breathe and make your noises. When his fingers begin pumping faster, and you can hear it, you whine, knees clamping shut as the small of your back jumps away from the couch.

“Fuck,” you pant against his lips.

“Need you to keep your legs open, baby,” Spencer reminds you gently, giving you a peck and a moment to relax as his hand stills.

“I don’t think I can,” you admit shyly, still wriggling. “Um, can you—can you use your mouth, please?”

Your boyfriend chuckles again and your cheeks get warmer. Momentarily you allow yourself to be grateful that his face is pressed too close to your own for him to be really be looking at you.

“You still have to keep your legs apart for that.”

“I know. It’s easier when—when you’re not inside.”

The smile in Spencer’s voice when he replies gives you butterflies as if he’s not knuckle deep in you already.

“I bet you think that’s true.”

“It is!” you whine.

“You’ve never had your thighs wrapped around your head so tightly your ears pop, have you?”

“That did not happen.”

“Only once,” Spencer reassures you. “And I happen to like your thighs. So no harm done. Go lie down on the bed.”

You let out a small chirp as he withdraws his fingers from you and your waistband snaps back into place against your skin.

“Where are you going?” you ask suspiciously, once you’re on semi-steady feet and watching him rise from the couch too. At once he kisses your forehead and grabs your ass—the contrast is dizzying.

“To wash my hands,” he says, popping the fingers that were just in you into his mouth like a preliminary clean up. “Go,” he urges, jutting his chin in the direction of the bedroom door. You hang from him just a second longer, biting back a smile, before tearing yourself away and only half-skipping to the bedroom.

Only a moment or two after you flop joyfully down on the mattress, he appears in the doorway again, immediately noticing the way you’re practically vibrating with excitement and unable to hide your grin as he approaches. It seems the smile is contagious—he’s sporting one of his own as he climbs over you.

“You’re adorable,” he murmurs toothily, kissing you once and then speaking again, “I love you so much.”

It’s exactly the kind of thing that makes you feel all soft and shy and giddy and speechless—even as he gives you one more parting kiss and then is sitting up to slide your pants off.

Maybe even especially then.

The sweetness dissipates only a little, still hanging thick in the air as you kick your bottoms off, and he leans back down, pushing your shirt over your chest and pressing kisses to your ribs and down your tummy. He doesn’t waste much time, only taking one brief detour to suck a mark and sink his teeth into your inner thigh until your breath catches loud enough to appease him. Then it’s all easy—his cool fingertips trailing up and down the backs of your thighs as he kisses all over and around your core. Intimacy with Spencer is definitely a spectrum, and while you can always feel the depth of his love for you in every touch, right now it’s so tangible, so potent you can feel it in your teeth.

You coo when one of the kisses finally sticks, lacing your fingers through the hair you love so much and pushing it out of the way as he laps gently at you. He looks as beautiful as always in the golden hour light as it filters through the window, but you’ve always thought he’s just that extra bit prettier when he’s eating you out.

Visually you’re entranced—it’s only when he begins easing you into the deep end with the flicking of his tongue that your brow knits and you gasp.

“Spencer,” you whisper, and it melds into a louder gasp. “Baby.”

He hums into you, reaching around your thigh to grab one of your wrists. You allow him to drag your hand from his hair and intertwine your fingers, his hand on top of yours, pressing them against your stomach where he sweeps his thumb back and forth over your knuckles.

The display of tenderness only makes you ache deeper in your belly, singing in airy, open-mouthed praise for him with a moan you know he would describe as pretty. Spencer says things like that often. He always talks about you like you’re an art form. When it comes to talking about touching you, he’s especially poetic.

When he begins to suckle, your moans get a little more explicit.

But he likes those ones just fine, too.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, though it’s a little choked, as you writhe just slightly against him. “That’s so good—oh my god.”

The hand that’s not holding yours rapidly changes position—pressing your thigh to the side with his elbow while he slips his fingers inside you once more.

At that, you really do choke, your body attempting to sit bolt upright but set off balance by the way your hips buck. You moan, loud, lilting, head still lifted to watch as he begins fucking you with his fingers. Your fingers brush through his hair several times before you’re anchoring your hand in it and falling back.

“Wh—please, baby, I can’t—”

But you can, and you both know it. You always do this; your body sends you signs that you’re over-indulging and fights to escape the stimuli and Spencer has learned to recognize your false flags for what they are. His hand speeds up along with his tongue and you cry out again, fighting to keep your legs open and your hips on the bed as every nerve in your body seems to light up neon.

“Oh—Spencer I’m gonna come,” you warn, all high pitched and synthesized into one word. He simply hums a long mhm in acknowledgment, and decides at that moment to brush his fingers over that spot inside of you which proves to be exactly the right button to trigger your detonation.

You can’t help the way you twist then as your orgasm washes you out—jaw dropped as your final keen starts loud, sputters into silence, and melts into an exhausted whine as your hips wind down. Spencer (wisely) adjusts his position, letting go of your hand only so he can sit up as your thighs clamp shut hard. But he’s still pumping his fingers as you writhe, his own mouth hanging open and groaning as you mewl. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, ready to beg him to stop—but as usual, he knows your body better than you do. An orgasm that you had thought was on its way out gets a second life and you can’t even breathe as you feel it so deep within you, pinpointed to one spot of focus, that you have to curl in on yourself, keeling onto your side because it’s simply too intense.

Either your vision goes black or your eyes are simply closed—regardless, time ceases for an unquantifiable moment, and you come to with Spencer rubbing your back and murmuring your name.

“What did I do to you?” he laughs, not unkindly.

Your back arches as mild aftershocks trickle through your system.

“I don’t know,” you slur. “Dark magic.”

He allows himself to be pulled on top of you once more, and you tangle your hands in his hair again.

“But you’re okay?” he murmurs, using his dry hand to play with your hair and brush over your cheek.

“Mhm,” you nod, eyes fluttering shut once more. Then you laugh, sudden and unexpected to both of you. “I think. That was intense. I felt that one in my soul.”

You smile as he exhales a laugh against your skin.

“Okay,” Spencer sighs after you catch your breath, bumping his nose against yours before sitting up—this time, not allowing you to pull him back down. “I need to take a shower. You should come with me.”

“Five more minutes,” you mumble. He raises his eyebrows.

“But this is your last chance to wash my hair before it’s a whole inch shorter tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you laugh, but it turns deadly serious very quickly. “Spencer, I am not letting you cut a whole inch off your hair. I need that inch.”

“For what?” He snorts.

You smile big, glad he didn’t see your joke coming for once.

“Handles! Duh!”

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starlightkun · 3 months

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❥・word count: 17.2k ❥・warnings: cursing, suggestive but no smut (i think that tag is on all my sungchan fics at this point), also i do talk about biting him probably too much, there’s one scene where i have to refer to distance and i use miles im sorry it’s the filthy american in me (convert to km if you must but it’s really not that important) ❥・genre: meet-ugly (like a meet-cute but bad), strangers to lovers, fluff and more fluff good god, forced proximity trope (long car trip, friend group vacation in a cabin, etc.) ❥・author’s note: send help the sungchan brainrot is terminal

“I just don’t trust people that are that hot—Sorry.”

“Are you going to the cabin next week?” Karina asked you, refilling her drink as the two of you chatted in the kitchen of Donghyuck and Mark’s place. The former was throwing a “small get-together” tonight for his birthday, which was already shaping up to be more like the parties you’d attended in undergrad. He’d also invited a hopefully actually small number of your closer friends to spend two weeks in his family’s cabin starting the following Friday.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” you nodded, opening the fridge to nose around in there for something to mix with your alcohol.

“Do you know who all he invited?”

“I think the usual, right?” You had secured some cranberry juice and seltzer, and brought them back out triumphantly. “Didn’t he text the details to everyone in a group chat? Check who’s in it.”

“Let me see…” She muttered, scrolling through her phone. “You, me, Hyuck, Mark, Ning, Jeno, Jaemin, Shotaro, Anton…”

“Unless it’s a mansion in the woods, it sounds like half of us will be sleeping on the floor,” you scoffed.

“There’s one person in here that I don’t have saved.” She frowned. “Do you?”

You looked at it on your own phone. “There’s two people I don’t have saved. One of them must be Anton, I just met him the other day when Taro brought him around to… whatever, I don’t even remember now.”

“I don’t have the 512 number.”

You saved the other unknown number as Anton. “I don’t have the 512 number either.”

Karina giggled. “Mysterious.”

“Probably another guy Hyuck and Mark met playing pickup.” You shrugged, following her back out to the living room. “I feel like that’s how they meet all their new friends these days.”

“Rina! Y/N!” Ningning suddenly appeared in front of the two of you, grabbing your other friend’s wrist. “Come dance with me!”

Karina looked over at you. “Y/N?”

“Just topped up.” You lifted your drink. “Maybe later. Have fun, guys.”

As they disappeared into the middle of the room, you drifted off to the side, finding a wall to lean against. You took slow sips of your drink, eyes passing over the crowd. You didn’t mind standing by yourself until either your friends were done dancing and found you again, or you spotted someone you’d rather talk to before then.

“Y/N!” Your voice was called from behind you, and you turned around to greet the birthday boy with a wide smile.

“Hyuck!” You went to hug him. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all night!”

“Because you’ve been hiding in the kitchen,” he teased. “I think this is the first time I’ve actually seen you out here.”

You rolled your eyes as you drew back from the hug. “Whatever, I’m here now. Are you having a good birthday?”

“Great!” He beamed. It was then that you noticed he had someone with him, a tall guy hovering awkwardly behind him. Donghyuck went to introduce him, “This is Sungchan, by the way. He also lives in the complex; Mark and I met him playing pickup.”

Of course.

“Sungchan, this is my friend Y/N,” Hyuck then gestured to you.

You nodded to him politely. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he smiled back, a bright, heart-stopping smile. You held onto your drink a little tighter, with both hands.

“Hey! Renjun!” Donghyuck suddenly yelled out. “No killing people on the premises! Choke Jisung outside!”

He took off into the crowd, leaving you with his new friend.

“Anyway, it was nice to meet you, Jungchan, but I’ve got to find my friends.” You slipped away before he could say anything else.

Karina and Ningning were still dancing, and while you briefly debated joining them, you decided against it, heading back to your safe haven instead: the kitchen. It was blissfully empty when you got in there, and you started picking at the bowls of snacks mindlessly.

“That was incredible.” Someone snickered, startling you into dropping a chip onto the floor.

You picked it up, glowering at the newcomer as you went to go throw away the ruined chip into the garbage can. “What are you talking about, Anton?”

“His name is Sungchan, by the way.” He was still laughing, hopping up onto the counter by the bowls of snacks. “Not Jungchan. I happened to have been lucky enough to have overheard that.”

“Oops.” You said flatly, well aware that you didn’t sound very sorry.

“But I’m totally going to use that.”

“You know him from pickup basketball too, I presume?”

“Yup.” He tossed a cheeseball up and caught it in his mouth. “He’s not very good at shooting, but he’s tall, so he’s alright at guarding.”

“Good for him. Or not, I don’t know.”

“So let’s say, hypothetically, I was eavesdropping on the entire conversation—”

“Hypothetically.”

“Of course.” He grinned. “He said like two words to you, and they were barely even hello. Why did you run away like that?”

You sighed, topping off your drink again. After taking a sip, musing over how best to phrase it, you finally decided on, “I just don’t trust people that are that hot—Sorry.”

Anton cocked his head curiously at you. “Who hurt you?”

“Nobody, god.” You rolled your eyes. “You’re so fucking dramatic and for what?”

“Fun and profit, mostly.”

“You hurt Sungchan’s feelings,” Donghyuck declared, blotting out the sun above you.

You closed your book on your thumb to deal with this. You had been reclining on a chair at your apartment complex’s pool reading in peace when your friend appeared out of nowhere. Outside the pool fence you could see his roommate, and two more of your mutual friends, Jaemin and Jeno. Jeno had a basketball under his arm, which made sense, the courts were right next to the pool, they were probably already heading there when they saw you and decided to detour over here to… interrogate you? Harass you?

“Who? What? When?” You squinted up at Donghyuck in confusion.

“My friend. Last night.”

“The tall one? How? Because I didn’t want to talk about the weather or whatever with him?”

“Apologize,” he demanded, crossing his arms. “And get his name right this time. It’s Sungchan. Not Jungchan.”

You scoffed, sitting up straighter in your chair. “This is exactly what I was telling Anton last night, you know. I don’t trust people that are that hot because even if they don’t do anything to abuse their hotness directly, or on purpose, other people will just do things for them anyway.”

“He’s the nicest person I know. Hotness be damned. Apologize.”

“No.”

“Really? This is the moral hill that you’re willing to die on?”

“Yup.”

“You’re a true martyr, Y/N,” Hyuck said sarcastically. “The Second Coming herself.”

“The nicest person you know? Really?” You questioned doubtfully.

“Really. And you were mean to him,” Donghyuck confirmed.

“Including Shotaro?”

“Including Taro.”

“Mark?”

“Mark’s my best friend. Doesn’t mean he’s the nicest person I know,” he retorted.

“Jeno?”

“Literally saw him steal candy from a baby yesterday.”

You blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

“Jisung. Same thing.”

“I’m not apologizing to your friend,” you declared, opening your book again.

“This is the stupidest line you’ve drawn in the sand yet.”

“I’m not going out and bullying him! All I said was that I don’t trust hot people!”

“Flaw in your logic: You’re friends with me,” he pointed out smugly.

“Think on that one again, Hyuck,” you replied snidely, looking down at your book as if you were trying to get back to reading.

“Rude.” He looked back at the other three guys waiting for him, apparently getting an idea. “What about Jeno? He’s like, ridiculously good-looking.”

“I like him just fine. I just don’t trust him, or what people will do for him because he’s stupidly attractive,” you argued.

“It sounds exhausting to be you,” he huffed, turning on his heel and leaving the pool deck.

Later that afternoon, you pulled yourself up out of the pool, heading back towards your chair. Grabbing your towel, you wrapped it around yourself to start drying off before heading back to your apartment. You saw someone walking towards you out of the corner of your eye as you were digging through your bag for your phone.

“Hi.” It was Donghyuck’s tall friend from last night, in workout gear rather than swim trunks. Obviously not here to use the pool.

“Hi.” You wiped a drop of water off your phone screen that had fallen from your nose onto it.

“Do you have a second?”

“Sure.”

He scratched the back of his neck as he focused an apologetic smile on you. “Did I do something or say something? At Donghyuck’s place? Because I’m really—”

“No.”

“—sorry if I did—Wait what?” The smile dropped from his face.

“You didn’t do anything or say anything. You were perfectly nice,” you answered honestly.

“Then it really was what you told Anton?” He asked in disbelief.

Of course, Anton must have told him what you said.

“Look, Sungchan, I’m sorry, I just don’t trust really attractive guys right off the bat.”

“I haven’t done anything to earn your distrust other than—”

“—other than being hot, yeah.” You shrugged. “Even if you really are nice, intentionally or not, people treat you differently just by virtue of you being stupidly hot. Gets in your head, whether you think it has or not.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Not at all.”

“How are you any different then?”

“Different than who?”

“You say that people treat me differently because I’m, in your words, ‘stupidly hot.’” He put the phrase air quotes. “That’s exactly what you’re doing right now.”

“How am I treating you different by not immediately falling at your feet? I don’t do that for average looking guys either.”

“That’s not what I’m asking you to do.”

“Was I rude to you last night? Bitchy? Outright mean or nasty?” You ticked the adjectives off on your fingers. “No, the most you can accuse me of was being a bit curt. And getting your name wrong, that really was my bad.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you took the opportunity to slip your sandals back on and shoulder your tote bag.

“Look, you’re not entitled to my time, attention, or to me,” you told him firmly.

“I didn’t say I was,” he said immediately, his brow furrowing.

“You’ve taken it as a personal affront that I didn’t want to idly chitchat with you last night.”

“I’m just… confused,” Sungchan sighed.

“You’re nice to look at, I’m sure you’re not a complete dud to talk to, it’s probably not torture to make small talk with you at a party. So people do,” you tried to walk him through it. “But it’s not mean for someone to not want to talk to you.”

He was silent again, that same pensive, troubled look on his face, and you found yourself in better spirits than you had been last night.

“This was fun. I would say we should do it again, but I’m afraid I would make you cry and then Hyuck would be really mad at me.” You chuckled, grabbing your keys from your bag. “So, goodbye, Sungchan.”

You were relaxed on your couch that night with a tub of ice cream when a violent banging came at your front door. Pausing the movie you were watching, you rushed to answer it, thinking that it must be the police, or some other kind of emergency. Instead, it was Donghyuck and Mark. You looked at Donghyuck incredulously, the one who had been doing the knocking.

“What is your fucking problem?” He said in lieu of a greeting, throwing his hands up in the air in disbelief.

“What did I do now? Allegedly?” You matched his tone, watching as he started pacing your entryway.

“You know what you did.” Mark was calmer, reminding you of a disappointed parent as he looked at you, his hands on his hips.

“You broke him!” Donghyuck declared.

“Who—Oh, Sungchan?” You finally connected the dots.

“Who else’s soul have you ripped out of their chest and stomped on today?”

“He sought me out,” you defended yourself, crossing your arms.

“And you couldn’t have been a human being and talked to him?”

“We talked. From what you’re saying, it sounds like he didn’t like what I had to say.”

“He’s catatonic!”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Only slightly. But he’s not well.”

You scoffed, “If one conversation with me is enough to make him spiral, sounds like he had some other stuff going on before I opened my mouth.”

“So you refuse to take responsibility? For any of this?” Donghyuck regarded you wide, crazed eyes, looking like he was at the end of his rope.

“You’re asking me to what? Fix him?” You snorted in disbelief. “I don’t Mommy grown men, sorry.”

“You are infuriating.” He pointed at you accusatorily. “The party I could’ve let slide—”

“No you couldn’t have, you found me literally the next day demanding that I apologize for not wanting to talk to him,” you spat back.

“Not for that! I’m not going to hold a gun to your head and force you to make small talk with him,” he groaned. “I meant the stuff you were telling Anton, in the kitchen. He heard you.”

“All I said was that I don’t trust people that are that hot. Nothing to have a goddamn mental breakdown over!”

“And he wouldn’t have, if you had just, I don’t know, apologized for the misunderstanding and moved on! But no, you have to take everything to this moral extreme! Honestly, I’m finding it hard to remember what’s even likeable about you in the first place right now,” Donghyuck ranted, running his hands through his hair.

“Hyuck, that was a bit far,” Mark finally spoke up again, stepping forward.

“You really want to die on this hill, Y/N?” Donghyuck just went around his roommate, looking you in the eye. “Then fine. Don’t bother coming on the trip.”

“Hyuck, man, come on—” Mark called after him, but Donghyuck had already stormed out of your apartment.

You watched the empty doorway after him, chest heaving as all the words you’d exchanged finally caught up to you. Looking to your friend that you had been left with, you asked quietly, “Do you think I'm in the wrong, Mark?”

He tilted his head back and forth regretfully. “I think… you’re being a bit abrasive.”

“You agree with Hyuck,” you deadpanned.

“Not entirely. I don’t think he should’ve been throwing Sungchan at you so hard. He should’ve known you weren’t going to take it well, which is probably why he did it in such a weird way.”

“What?”

“He was trying to set you up with Sungchan. But knowing how… you… are, he thought he had to do it with some uh, ‘finesse.’” Mark shrugged one shoulder. “Sungchan wasn’t all that hurt after the party, really. A bit bummed that you brushed him off, sure, but he would’ve bounced back. He’s hard to knock down, literally and metaphorically. Hyuck demanded that you go ‘apologize’ to him so that you’d talk to him again. Same thing with Sungchan talking to you at the pool today, Hyuck told him to.”

“Does Sungchan know that Hyuck’s been trying to set us up this whole time?”

“I’m pretty sure.”

“So to him, this has been Hyuck setting him up with, apparently, the biggest bitch he knows,” you winced. No wonder he was so confused earlier.

“I mean…” Mark trailed off sheepishly. “He should’ve told you.”

“And I should’ve been fucking normal,” you groaned, rubbing your face.

“An argument can be made for that, yes.”

“What apartment is Sungchan in?”

According to Mark, Sungchan went on a jog every morning at 8:00, and was usually back by 10:00, so you made sure to knock on his front door at 10:15, just in case.

Sungchan opened the door, wiping sweat from his face with a towel as he spoke, “Anton, I thought we agreed on eleven…”

He trailed off when he opened his eyes and saw who was actually on his doorstep.

“Hi, Sungchan,” you greeted him.

“Oh. Hi, Y/N.” He dropped his hand from his face. In the background, you could hear music playing, and smell food being cooked.

“Uhm, are you busy? I can leave, sorry—”

“No, no, it’s fine.” He stepped back, opening the door wider and gesturing you in. You stepped into his apartment with a polite, grateful nod. It looked like he had been in the middle of making breakfast, a blender out on his counter, various fruits on a cutting board, and ingredients sizzling in a pan. He went to pause the music on his phone, and stirred the food that was in the pan. He pointed to one of the stools that was at the bar attached to the kitchen counter. “Do you want to sit?”

“No, thanks,” you shook your head. Shouldn’t take that long. “I just wanted to apologize. I was abrasive, and shouldn’t have been using you to try to draw some moral line in the sand as part of an argument with my friend.”

Sungchan nodded. “Thanks. You did have a point, about the party. I wasn’t used to people not wanting to talk to me, it was a weird experience. But you’re right, I wasn’t entitled to your time.” He went back to the cutting board, chopping up a banana and depositing it into the blender. “Besides, I’m sure you have guys come up to you all the time and you just want to be left alone. No worries.”

You tilted your head curiously. “Why do you say that?”

“People treat you different when you’re stupidly hot, right?” He shrugged, scooping some blueberries into the blender next.

“I wasn’t talking about myself…”

Sungchan just grinned and shrugged again. “So I guess I’ll see you at Hyuck’s family cabin then?”

“No. I was uninvited,” you informed him quietly.

“What? Why?”

“Because of how… poorly I handled this.”

Sungchan’s eyes widened with horror. ��What? That’s crazy. I didn’t ask him—”

“Don’t worry, I totally get why he did it. His choice was between the nicest guy he knows—” you pointed to Sungchan, “—and the biggest bitch he knows—” you then pointed to yourself, “—who is a compulsive vibe-harsher. I’d pick you too.”

“Don’t tell me he called you—”

“My words,” you assured him.

“I’ll talk to him. No way you should be uninvited over a misunderstanding like this.” He flashed you an easy-going smile. “I mean, we’ve already worked it out. No hard feelings, right?”

“Right,” you agreed, offering a small smile back. “But really, Sungchan, you don’t have to. He’ll think I just apologized to you to get invited back on the trip.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Then there we go,” he said as if it were already decided. “I’ll talk to him.”

[hyuck: you’re un-uninvited]

[hyuck: sungchan will pick you up at 2:00 on friday]

[you: why is he picking me up???]

[hyuck: you’re the only two who need to leave late on friday. the rest of us are heading up in the morning]

[you: i have my own car??]

[hyuck: you’ve got a shitty sedan with 200,000 miles on it that can barely make it over a speed bump. you’re not making it up a mountain]

[hyuck: consider this your exposure therapy]

Sure enough, Friday at 2:00 p.m., there was a knock at your front door, Sungchan on the other side.

“Hey,” you greeted him, stepping back to grab your small rolling suitcase. “You really didn’t have to come get me, I could’ve met you down at your car.”

“I don’t mind. You need any help with your bags?” He offered, watching you also shoulder a duffel bag as you tried to wedge your memory foam pillow under your other arm.

“Where’s your stuff?” You questioned, noticing his empty hands.

“I already packed it in the car.” He reached for your suitcase, and you willingly let him take it. He held another hand out, and you gave him your duffel bag as well. Without even asking, he picked up the tote that was at your feet, too, leaving you with just your pillow and phone. “You got everything?”

You looked around your apartment, thinking hard. “Mmm… I’m pretty sure.”

“Phone, wallet, keys, charger?”

“Check.”

“Pajamas, toothbrush, toothpaste, other toiletries?”

“Check.”

“Let’s do it,” he grinned, leading the way to the front door.

[sungchan: picked y/n up! gonna get some gas on our way out of town if anybody has last minute snack requests. eta 5:00 pm!]

[jeno: 👍]

As some of the others’ snack orders came pouring in, you got one text separately.

[hyuck: be. nice.]

After filling up and triple-checking to make sure you had bought everyone’s food, you and Sungchan were back in his car, a modest-size SUV. He plugged his phone in to charge, then handed it to you.

“Here, you navigate.” The directions to the cabin were already pulled up and started.

“Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You tried to give it back. “I yap and nap.”

“It’s like five turns total for three hours.” He refused to take it back, starting the car and peeling off. “You can be passenger princess all you want. I even know the first two to get onto the highway on my own. Just need the exit number, the road name, and the house number.”

“Oh god, okay…” You sank down into the passenger seat, clutching his phone with two hands.

“Are you really that nice?” You asked once you had been on the highway for a while. Sungchan and you had been taking turns on aux—right now he had something playing—and there was a comfortable lull in conversation, but you couldn’t help the question that had been nagging at the back of your mind the entire time.

“There is no way for me to answer that and not sound like a dick,” he pointed out. “Either I say no, despite knowing that our mutual friends have apparently hyped up how nice I am to you, in which case it just looks like I’m acting humble. Dick move. Or I say yes, which would make me look like I’m full of myself. Dick move again.”

You looked over at him, feeling the smirk tug at your lips. “You’re fun.”

“Thanks?”

“So if you don’t think you’re that nice, how would you describe yourself?”

“What is this? Speed dating?” He snorted.

“You want to talk about something else? Pick a better topic yourself,” you retorted. “We’re stuck in here for like two more hours.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he quickly went to smooth the conversation over, his tone turning pleasant again. “I just meant… I don’t know how accurate a self-assessment like that would be. Wouldn’t you be biased about yourself? Positive or negative?”

“That’s the fun of it. Even if a person doesn’t describe themselves accurately, understanding how they see themselves can help you understand them a lot better.”

“How would you describe yourself then?”

“I asked you first.” You pointed out. It felt like it had been a long time since you checked the navigation, so you clicked Sungchan’s phone back on to see how much longer you had to go until your exit.

“Fine.” He hummed as he thought. “I like to think I’m… dependable. And a good friend. And patient—”

“That was our exit,” you said abruptly, staring at the constantly refreshing rerouting screen in front of you.

“What?”

“Well, fifty miles ago was our exit…” You winced, watching ‘288’ pass you by. Yours had been 238, apparently. You should’ve known that.

“We missed our exit?” Sungchan clarified.

“Fifty miles back, yeah.”

“And you just decided to tell me?”

“I just noticed! I thought it was 288!” You tried to defend yourself. “I told you not to make me navigate!”

He held a hand out towards you. “Give me the phone.”

“It’s rerouting, I’ll pay attention—”

“Y/N, give me the fucking phone.” His tone was low, with no room for arguing.

You meekly set it in his hand, dropping both your hands in your lap after. He cursed under his breath as he jerked the wheel over, cutting across three lanes of traffic—no turn signal—to narrowly make the next exit. Car horns followed his maneuver, but he ignored them.

“I’m sorry…” You muttered, unable to take the suffocating silence anymore. It was either apologize or tuck and roll, which was honestly still an option at this point.

“Text everyone, let them know we’ll be late,” Sungchan demanded, knuckles red and white around the wheel.

“Okay.” You scrambled to pull out your own phone. “What time should I tell them?”

“Eight.”

You gaped. “Three hours?!”

“Yes, Y/N, we’re on the other side of the fucking mountain now!” He finally snapped and raised his voice, and your eyes went wide. “We can’t just drive through it to get there!”

You took a deep breath, holding his eye contact for a tense, strangling moment before you looked down at your phone to draft your text.

[you: hey guys! uhm, due to an unfortunate series of events, sungchan and i will be a bit late! new eta 8pm]

[anton: did y’all crash or smth wtf]

Again, a separate text from Donghyuck.

[hyuck: i said be nice not fuck him nasty in the backseat for three hours what is wrong with you]

[you: shut UP]

Back in your vacation group chat, you figured you owed everyone an explanation that alleviated Sungchan of any blame.

[you: completely my fault! i’m apparently the worst navigator ever and we missed our exit :/ ]

[rina: damn y/n maintaining the stereotype that women are bad drivers even when backseat driving]

[ningning: the patriarchy thanks u for ur service queen 🫡]

[jeno: i hate when you guys start joking like this, wtf are we supposed to say without looking like assholes]

[hyuck: pour one out for y/n, it must be so hard holding open the gender pay gap like the doors of a subway car all by herself too]

[mark: bro 😭😭😭]

[you: i wish all of you a very fall down the mountain and die <3]

And one more private text from Donghyuck.

[hyuck: okay that’s how i know you didn’t get dicked down]

[hyuck: damn, you really are bad at reading directions huh]

[you: IM BLOCKING YOU]

Sungchan cleared his throat, and you slowly lowered your phone to look over at him again. He smoothly took a curve on the backroad that you were now on, one lane in each direction, that cut between the mountains with trees jutting up on either side of you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Sungchan breathed out, readjusting in his seat. “For yelling at you just now. That’s not… like me.”

“Because you’re so nice?” You couldn’t bite your tongue quick enough, still put off from the spat you’d just had.

“I… guess so,” he sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know where that came from, honest. I’m really sorry.”

“I told you I shouldn’t navigate.”

“Yeah, I know that now.”

“I’m really, really sorry for missing the exit. I should’ve been paying attention better,” you shouldered the blame that was yours.

“238 and 288 look almost the same. Easy mistake.”

“That added three hours to our drive,” you sighed, leaning your seat back.

“It’s done, no use pointing fingers at each other anymore,” Sungchan shook his head, tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel. “Or yourself.”

“Do you even have enough gas for another three hours? We’re not going to get stuck out here, are we?”

“I’ll stop at the next station I see.”

“How far is the next station?” You mumbled, pulling up your phone to search it up on your own. “Fifty-two miles. How much gas do we have?”

“A hundred miles on the range. See? We’re fine.” Sungchan’s smile dropped off his face right after he said that. “Huh…”

“What?” You sat up as he reached over to put the hazards on and pulled the car off onto the shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“Low tire pressure light,” he frowned. “I checked my tires before I grabbed you from your place. Give me a sec.”

He left the car running as he hopped out, and you watched as he walked around the car, squatting down to inspect each of the tires. Finally, he walked up to your window. You rolled it down to talk to him.

“Back right tire has a nail in it. Slow leak,” he explained. “I’ve got to change it.”

“Aren’t you not supposed to drive spares in certain conditions?” You asked as he reached through the open window to unlock and open the door. “Like on a mountain road or whatever?”

With the door open, he rolled the window back up and reached past you to turn the car off, taking the key out of the ignition. “The road’s paved, it’s not like it’s gravel or anything. I’ll have to drive careful and drive slow on the spare, but it’s either that or we’re stranded out here.”

You eyed the sun that was already descending behind the mountains. “Right. Spare it is.”

“Need you to hold the flashlight if you don’t mind.” He opened the glove box in front of you, rooting around and grabbing a flashlight the length of your forearm.

You accepted it from him. “Got it.”

Sungchan took the tools out of the trunk, as well as the spare tire. He first lifted the car up with the jack, and you became acutely aware of how abandoned the road that you were on really was as not a single other car passed by the entire time. Sungchan stood back up once the car was up to peel off his flannel, tossing it into the trunk with the rest of the tools and the spare waiting to be used.

“Y/N.”

“Huh?” You looked down at where he had gotten back on the ground.

“I need to see the lug nuts, not my arms.”

“Sorry.” You shuffled behind him to be able to point the beam directly on the tire instead of where it had drifted to his mostly bare arms under his t-shirt.

“Much better. Thanks.”

You watched as his hands skillfully unscrewed the lug nuts from the tire with the wrench, holding the first two behind him. “Hold these for me?”

“Oh, sure.” You held your hand out for him to drop them into your palm.

Once you had all five in hand, Sungchan pulled the flat off the car and swapped it out for the spare. You tried not to listen to the darkened forest behind you.

“Lug nuts?” He held his hand up from where he was laying on the ground. You deposited a couple back into his hand for him to screw on at a time.

As he alternated between tightening the nuts and lowering the car down off the jack, you dutifully kept the flashlight pointed on the area he was working on. Finally, the car was back on the ground, and he took the jack out from under it. He rolled the old tire around until he could point out the head of a nail embedded in the tread.

“There’s the little fucker.” Sungchan clicked his tongue before he heaved the tire up into the back. He put away all the tools too, then wiped away beads of sweat that had gathered under his bangs with the hem of his shirt.

He grabbed his flannel, tossing it over his shoulder before he shut the hatch on the trunk. He then turned to you with a bright smile and held his hand up for a high-five. “Alright!”

You high-fived him back mindlessly, pointing the flashlight at your feet now. “I didn’t do anything…”

“What are you talking about? I would’ve been fumbling around in the dark without you.” He nodded his head towards the front of the car. “Come on, we’re going to be late as is. We need to find that gas station. Hopefully they’re open late.”

“Hopefully…”

[you: NEW new eta idfk]

[you: we got a flat and need to fill up again]

[you: we might die out here. if this is my last message, just know that i still wish you all a very fall down the mountain and die <3]

[rina: aw ily2 pookie <33]

[you: sungchan probably says hi or smth]

Hyuck texted you individually again.

[hyuck: oh i know that car smells RANK 🫵🫵🫵]

[you: bitch this tire is as flat as YOUR ASS]

[hyuck: so it’s caked up??? my point is made 😌]

[you: delusion]

“The stars are really pretty out here,” Sungchan’s voice took you away from your phone.

He wasn’t driving as fast as before on account of the spare, making your trip even longer. You looked out the windshield in front of you, at a small patch of sky that you could see peeking out in between the mountains and trees. It was hundreds, if not thousands of stars, infinitely more than you could ever hope to see on a perfectly clear night in the city.

“Wow.” You leaned your arms and head forward on the dash to see it better. “That’s crazy…”

“I bet we’ll see even more once we get to the cabin.”

“If we don’t die out here first,” you half-joked. “How much gas do we have?”

“Sixty miles. And the station should be another ten.”

“Online didn’t have any hours for it…” You muttered. “And this is kind of rural…”

“Which means the owner might live on the property, or they have someone work a night shift for weary travelers just like us.”

“Weary travelers?” You repeated with amusement. “You make it sound like we’re going on some long journey and are seeking lodging at an inn.”

“Some of that’s true.”

“Yeah, yeah. And I won’t knock the weary part either.” You laid back in your seat again, letting out a yawn.

“Take a nap,” Sungchan encouraged you. “We’ll still have a while to drive after refilling, especially since we’re driving slow with the spare.”

“I would, but if the station is open, I gotta pee…” You whispered. “And it’s only like ten miles.”

“Then take a nap after.”

Finally, there was a building in the distance, and miraculously, when Sungchan pulled up to the lone gas pump, the lights inside were even on.

“Sungchan?” You walked around to where he was filling up the car.

“Yeah?” He looked over at you from where he had been watching the numbers on the meter go up.

“Uhm, can you go in with me? Into the store?” You asked almost sheepishly. “I just—”

“Of course.” He agreed with no hesitation, nodding towards the building for you to lead the way. The gas continued pumping on its own as he walked away, and you grabbed his arm as you approached the front door. He didn’t say anything as he opened the door for the two of you.

The attendant behind the counter didn’t even look up from his phone at the two of you as you entered. There was exactly one bathroom at the very back of the small convenience store, and Sungchan walked you back through the cramped aisles of snacks. When you were done, he was waiting just outside the door where you’d left him.

“Good?” He asked quietly, offering you the same arm that you’d taken in the parking lot.

You took it gladly. “Good.”

Sungchan gave the store employee a nod of acknowledgement as the two of you left, and the man once again didn’t even look up at you. Back at the car, the gas had clicked off on its own, and Sungchan replaced the pump. He walked you to the passenger side, opening your door and ushering you in, closing it firmly behind you before getting in on his side and locking it behind him.

“Good?” He asked you again.

“Good,” you confirmed, and he started the car up.

Back on the road, the darkness all around you, steady rumble of the pavement under you, and music Sungchan had playing at a low volume was slowly lulling you back towards sleep again. You let out a rather obvious, violent yawn, not even having enough in you to slap your hand over your mouth all that quick.

“Go to sleep, Y/N,” Sungchan said again.

“But you’ve got to drive more,” you argued. “Who’s going to keep you awake?”

“I’ve got it, promise.” He then chuckled to himself. “You’ve yapped, now it’s time to nap.”

“Mm, alright.” You curled up in your reclined seat as best you could, letting your eyes flutter shut. “Wake me up if you need entertainment to stay awake. Love a good car sing-along…”

Your eyes and limbs still felt heavy and sluggish with sleep when you woke up later that night, and you pulled your blanket tighter to you as you tried to settle back in. You took a deep breath in through your nose, and then immediately remembered that you did not go to sleep with a blanket on you, and that this definitely was not yours that was on you right now. You felt at the material bunched in your hand again and recognized it as an article of clothing of some sort, not a blanket. Slowly opening one eye, you saw that it was a big hoodie, the arms wrapped around your shoulders so it didn’t fall off.

You shifted in your seat again, sitting up a little more as you looked at the hoodie that was draped over you a little closer.

“Hey, are you waking up?” Sungchan asked quietly from beside you.

You looked over at him, squinting. “Mm… mhm.”

“Good, we’re almost there. I’d say ten minutes,” he informed you.

“What… time is it?”

“A little after nine.”

“Ugh…” You dropped your head back against the seat. “Feels like two in the morning.”

“I know what you mean,” he chuckled. “I’m going to be ready to sleep as soon as we get there too.”

“Yeah, but you were like driving and changing tires and stuff. I was... whatever the opposite of a passenger princess is, the whole time. A passenger nuisance.”

“You held the flashlight. That was a very important job.”

“I’m going to pretend like that didn’t feel patronizing and say thanks.”

“We both had a long night, Y/N. Being tired is warranted, for everyone involved.”

“Thanks, Sungchan.”

“You’re welcome.”

“No, not just for that.” You were interrupted by another yawn as you went to put the back of your seat upright again. “For… driving me, and apologizing for snapping at me earlier, and changing the tire, and walking me to the bathroom, and for the hoodie. You’re…”

“Nice?” He seemed to be bracing himself for the word.

“A good guy.”

“Oh.”

You didn’t say anything else, readjusting his hoodie on you as he continued driving. Finally, he pulled off the road into a driveway, and a cabin came into view. All the lights were on, and he stopped behind a few other cars that you recognized: Mark’s, Jaemin’s, and Karina’s.

The two of you had just started taking your stuff out of the trunk when some of your friends met you outside.

“You survived!” Jaemin cheered.

“Barely,” you groaned, reaching for your pillow.

“What happened to your tire, dude?” Mark asked Sungchan.

“Got a nail in it somewhere,” he explained, taking his phone out to shine the flashlight on it. As they looked it over and talked about the car, the others grabbed both yours and Sungchan’s stuff to take into the cabin.

“So, before you guys got a flat, how exactly did you manage to read the map on your phone so wrong you added three hours to the drive?” Jeno questioned you, your duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“Our exit was 238, I misread it, thought it was 288,” you explained with a sigh. “We ended up on the wrong side of the mountain and had to go back around.”

“Damn, it’s a good thing you were with Sungchan when you did that,” Anton laughed, dragging Sungchan’s suitcase in. “Anybody else probably would’ve lost their shit on you.”

“He did.”

Everyone who was within earshot turned to look at you.

“What?” Anton blinked.

“I mean, he didn’t like, go crazy or anything, but he was angry.”

“We’re talking about the same guy, right? Jung Sungchan, right over there?” Hyuck pointed to where Sungchan and Mark were still chatting by the cars further down the driveway. “He got like, actually mad at you?”

“Uh-huh,” you confirmed. “Raised his voice, yelled, whatever word you want to use. Cursed, too.”

“I’ve never even seen him get like, frustrated…” Shotaro whistled.

Hyuck looked between you and Sungchan in disbelief. “What the hell?”

“He apologized,” you added what felt like a pretty important detail.

“I’m sure he did,” Anton snorted, opening the front door. “I’m kind of surprised he’s not still like, begging for your forgiveness.”

“He apologized for getting upset, I apologized for missing the exit, we moved on.” You shrugged, stepping into the cabin. “And the sky didn’t fall.”

“Yet.” Hyuck scoffed. “Who knows, hell might freeze over before we wake up.”

“Speaking of, where exactly are we all sleeping?”

The next morning, you slipped out of the king size bed that you, Karina, and Ningning were all sharing and treaded down the darkened hallway as quietly as possible. The sun hadn’t risen yet, and you winced when a floorboard creaked underfoot as you passed behind the pull-out couch that Shotaro and Anton had crashed on.

There was already light pouring out of the kitchen when you got there, and a tall figure was standing in front of the stove, a tea kettle on one of the old coil burners. Sungchan was illuminated by the stove light, and turned around when he heard the shuffling of your socks across the tile. It looked like he had already showered and gotten dressed, his hair a little damp as it hung in his eyes, and he was in a fresh t-shirt, shorts, and pair of sneakers.

“You’re up early,” he commented, keeping his voice low to not disturb the others in the next room.

“You too,” you replied just as softly.

The kettle began whistling just then, and he immediately flipped open the spout to stop the noise, taking it off the stove. He opened a nearby cabinet to grab a mug.

“Tea?” He offered. “I’m not a big coffee guy…”

“Sure,” you accepted, and he took a second mug down. “What kind?”

Sungchan went to a different cabinet to get a box of tea sachets. “Green.”

He dropped a tea bag into each mug, then poured the boiling water over them. He handed you your mug before leaning against a spot by the sink.

“Thanks.” You wrapped your hands contentedly around the warm drink.

You lifted your bag up and down by the string, letting it steep as your eyes blinked open and closed, your mind still coming to in the early morning hours. Outside the cabin, you could hear birds singing as the forest woke up too, and you smiled to yourself at the thought.

“So, uh—” Sungchan cleared his throat awkwardly. “What’s the difference between a nice guy and a good guy?”

You opened your eyes, lifting your head to look up at him, slightly amused. You hoped this hadn’t kept him up last night. “A nice guy wouldn’t have yelled at me in the first place.”

“Oh.” He looked a bit ashamed, and also like he might try to apologize again.

“But that also would’ve made no opportunity for you to apologize,” you continued. “A nice guy is just nice. A good guy can admit when he’s wrong, because he actually is wrong sometimes. But he fixes it after.”

“Huh…” Sungchan took another sip of his tea. “Are you a philosophy student or something? Gender studies?”

“No.” You laughed. “Just a compulsive vibe-harsher, like I said.”

“I don’t know how being smart harshes the vibe.”

“I… find it hard to take things at face value. I always have to evaluate them through some lens. It’s tough for me to live in the moment, I guess. Doesn’t always make me the most fun at parties.”

“You can’t be that much of a bummer, they keep inviting you places.” He had finished his tea, and turned around to wash out the mug before setting it aside to dry. “I’ve got to go, I found a place that’ll look at my tire. I called and they’re open on Saturdays.”

“I’ll go with you,” you offered. “If you want some company…”

“It’s on the other side of the mountain,” he informed you. “It’ll be an all-day thing, you should hang out here with everyone. I think Hyuck said they were going to take the boat out.”

“But then you’ll be all alone and bored in the car all day.” You tilted your head. “If you just don’t want me to come, tell me. I’ll be okay.”

“No, Y/N, I’d appreciate the company, but are you sure you want to be stuck in the car with me all day again?”

“Just don’t make me navigate and we’ll be good.”

“Never again,” he smiled. “You’ll be there purely for entertainment.”

“Great, let me get changed.”

“Aw, I thought the jammies were cute,” Sungchan snickered, and for the first time that morning you processed what you were wearing.

A pair of Sanrio character-patterned sleep shorts that were originally from a pajama set (the matching button-up top had long disappeared), well-loved, and a big t-shirt that your dad had gotten from his work when you were high school, worn in with a couple holes in one of the sleeves and another low on the bottom hem—not in any scandalous areas, hence why you hadn’t retired it yet, but definitely not your finest attire.

“Shut up!” You hissed, putting your mug down on the counter to cross your arms over your chest. “I’m changing!”

[sungchan: going to get my tire fixed, y/n’s with me. car shop is on the other side of the mountain so we’ll be back late afternoon-ish]

[jeno: 👍]

“I wasn’t kidding, the pajamas were cute,” Sungchan chuckled as he pulled away from the cabin.

The backroads looked much more welcoming and pleasant in the daytime, all tall, green trees and beautiful mountain landscapes.

“Yeah, sure,” you snorted, taking over the aux first.

“Is my hoodie over there by the way?” He questioned, pointing to the passenger seat floor. “It wasn’t in my stuff yesterday, I thought it might’ve ended up on the floor or something.”

“Oh, sorry, I accidentally took it in with me,” you informed him, remembering when you had finally gotten settled into your room late last night and realized you’d brought the article of clothing in with you in the midst of the hecticness. “I’ll give it back to you when we get back to the cabin after this.”

“Don’t worry about it, just wondering where it went.” He waved you off nonchalantly, eyes focused on the road as he navigated a curve.

But you weren’t going to let him chalant around that so easily. “And what does that mean, Sungchan?”

“I like that hoodie and didn’t want to have lost it on a mountain in the middle of nowhere?”

“So, if I were to give it back to you and start borrowing, oh, I don’t know, Jeno’s hoodie…?”

“That’d be weird, because you have a perfectly good one,” he replied simply.

“Mhm…”

“And clearly, I’m trying to establish my dominance over the other males and stake my unofficial claim over you by having you wear my clothes,” he looked over at you, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You held his eye contact for a moment before you both burst out laughing. “What?!”

“Sorry, I tried my hand at harshing the vibe like you,” his eyes crinkled as he laughed. “Just sounded like a fucking weirdo, huh?”

“A bit, yeah.” You wheezed as you tried to catch your breath. “You also can’t sound that sarcastic when you do it. People have to believe that you believe what you’re saying.”

“I didn’t though. I mean, not completely. I think.”

“Either commit to the bit or don’t.”

He frowned thoughtfully. “But… wouldn’t that have made you feel weird? What I just said?”

“Oh yeah, I don’t buy into all that alpha male social hierarchy bullshit. It’s based off one study on a pack of wolves that’s been debunked multiple times.” You shook your head. “But the second part wasn’t an incorrect analysis of flirting and dating dynamics.”

“Damn, you’re good at that,” he chuckled fondly.

“I didn’t know that Donghyuck was setting us up, by the way,” you felt the need to clarify in that moment. “Not until… right before I apologized?”

“I kind of worked that out eventually,” he sighed. “He should’ve told you, by the way.”

“Yeah, then maybe I would’ve been fucking normal.”

“Probably not.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I mean, it was unfair to you to have been in the dark like that.”

“That’s… generous. Here I thought it was unfair to you to have been subjected to me like that.”

“I was a bit confused as to why Donghyuck told me he had the perfect person for me and then every time I talked to you, you either ran away or seemed to hate me for no good reason,” he admitted.

“I truly wonder what his thought process was…” You mused. “He meets you playing pickup basketball, you turn out to be nicest guy he’s ever met, and his first thought is to introduce you to me? Weird.”

“Why is that weird?” Sungchan tilted his head. “I think you’re cool.”

“I mean, I’m not nice. Or, it’s definitely not one of my defining characteristics. Wouldn’t you want to set up your two nicest single friends with each other?”

“They might get bored of each other,” he muttered.

You looked at him curiously. “Do you think you’re boring, Sungchan?”

He shrugged. “Isn’t that what people say? ‘Oh he’s… a nice guy.’ When they can’t think of anything else about you because you’re boring.”

“I’ve had plenty of fun with you,” you assured him. “Including being stuck in a car with you for six hours and getting a flat tire.”

“I haven’t exactly been my usual self with you…” He confessed quietly.

“Oh?”

“I don’t get upset with people, or tease them like this, or say weird stuff to try to harsh the vibe on purpose.”

You couldn’t help but let out a peal of laughter. “Maybe you are usually pretty boring, then.”

“I think… because you’ve already seen me get mad, and we got past that, I feel like I can try out being things other than nice with you?” He seemed to have been picking his words very carefully. “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, Sungchan, it makes sense,” you affirmed. “Are you seriously saying you don’t joke around with the others?”

“I joke around, but I’m not really like… sarcastic, I guess. I don’t want to say something and hurt someone’s feelings either because they didn’t get that it was a joke, or even if they did, because it went too far.”

“That’s fair, but… you have to trust people.”

“Coming from the woman who said she doesn’t trust hot people?” He questioned pointedly.

“Okay, fair,” you chuckled. “But hear me out.”

“Go for it.”

“If your friend said or did something that hurt your feelings, and you didn’t tell them that directly, would you expect them to know?”

He seemed to think about this for a moment, then shook his head. “No, they can’t read my mind. I would need to tell them so we can talk about it.”

“Then why do you have higher standards for yourself as a friend than you have for your friends?”

Sungchan’s mouth dropped open, then closed, then opened again, then closed once more as he frowned deeply, his brows knitting together.

You continued, “You have to trust your friends to tell you when they’re hurt by something you say or do. If you spend your whole life assuming what your friends’ feelings are instead actually letting them tell you, you’re just forcing your own expectations onto them without their input. And it’s also not fair to you to constantly be living your life trying to minimize all these perceived slights against people. Not to mention—sometimes someone’s feelings can get hurt and you didn’t really do anything wrong.”

He laughed nervously. “Not philosophy or gender studies grad student; I think I’m going to skip right over psychology and just go straight for all-knowing deity that can see straight into my soul?”

“Been thinking about updating my LinkedIn to Professional Yapper, but I think I like that better,” you grinned, handing his phone back over to him. “Your turn on the aux.”

“It’s fixable,” the tire shop owner confirmed. “Should take an hour or so. It’s just me and my son and we have a couple customers ahead of you. You and your girlfriend are welcome to wait here, or, you know, it’s lunchtime, there’s a restaurant that’s a five-minute walk down the road.”

He pointed in presumably the general direction of it.

“Right, uhm, here’s my number, in case we’re not here when it’s done.” Sungchan wrote his number down on a notepad on the front desk in the small tire shop.

The older man pulled the paper towards him, flashing the both of you a smile. “If you go to lunch, tell Mrs. Han I sent you.”

“Thank you.” He nodded to the man before you both stepped away from the counter, and the owner walked into the back where the cars were.

You looked up at Sungchan questioningly. “I could do lunch. Are you hungry?”

“Sure,” he agreed. “Beats sitting here for an hour. After sitting in the car for two days straight, I’d like to walk for a bit.”

There was of course no sidewalk, so the two of you had to walk on the shoulder of the road, the odd vehicle zipping by every so often and kicking up your hair. Sungchan kept himself between you and the road, meaning that you were on the grassier part of the shoulder, but you didn’t mind, taking the opportunity to look for wildflowers by your feet.

“Did we really look like a couple?” You asked, stopping to bend over and pick a yellow wildflower, then continued your walk.

“We were a man and woman alone in the middle of nowhere with car trouble,” Sungchan pointed out. “I don’t think the first assumption would be that we met a week ago.”

“Hm, fair.”

“He probably sees a lot of couples coming out here for romantic getaways breaking down or getting flats or whatever.”

“Sounds like the beginning of a horror movie…” You picked a stalk of small white flowers. “Or the first five minutes of a crime procedural.”

Sungchan grabbed a purple flower and held it out to you. “Truly a miracle that we survived.”

“Are you a mechanic or something?”

“Why? Because I know how to change a tire?”

You shrugged. “It’s a guess. You guessed that I was a philosophy student because I like to yap.”

“Not a mechanic.”

“You going to make me keep guessing?”

“I’ve guessed what you do three times now and you’ve yet to tell me.” He elbowed you. “I think you can handle a little more suspense about me.”

You swatted his arm away. “I don’t know if all-knowing deity should really count…”

“I was being so serious, hand on my heart.” He laid his hand over his chest dramatically.

“Well, I know it’s not pro basketball player,” you hummed teasingly. “Anton says you suck.”

“My three-pointer could use some work…”

“Pretty much our whole complex is grad students or young professionals... Are you in school?”

“You haven’t given me any hints.”

“You haven’t asked for any.”

He watched you step a little further from the road to get a pink flower from a patch before rejoining him. “I’ll answer if you answer.”

“A bargain?” You grinned, taking your gaze off the blue flowers that you had been eyeing up ahead of you and turning it up to Sungchan next to you. “I’ll take it. You first.”

“I’m a student. Your turn.”

“Both,” you answered. “I take night classes.”

“I have to guess two things for you?”

“What do we win if we guess right, anyway?” You asked.

“Y/N...” Sungchan stared you down at you avoiding his question.

“Fine, if you can guess one, I’ll tell you the other,” you acquiesced. “So what’s the prize?”

“Winning isn’t enough?” He questioned.

“You’re the one who turned it into a game.”

“Pretty sure you’re the one who did that, but okay,” he teased back. “I don’t know, what do you think it should it be? You suggested a prize.”

You hummed, stepping away from the road to reach for a bright blue flower, having to lean over to one side as the ground sloped down steeply in this area. A few pieces of gravel under your feet tumbled downhill, and Sungchan grabbed your forearm that was close to him to balance you as you picked the flower. Still hunched over, using your new stability with his hold on you to stretch your arm even further out towards a pretty orange one, you suggested, “Winner picks our first date when we get back home?”

“Date?” He echoed, his grip slipping on you for a moment.

You yelped as you nearly lost your balance, and Sungchan barely caught you from tumbling down the hillside, jerking you back towards him. You landed on your ass at his feet, huffing as you looked up at him.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, moving to offer you a hand up.

You took it, standing back up and brushing yourself off. Picking the orange wildflower first, you then threatened, “If you push me down this mountain for real, I’m taking you with me.”

“Yeah, that’s deserved,” he chuckled. “I was just, uhm, surprised.”

“Donghyuck tried to set us up—failed stupendously, which I mean, it’s Hyuck, what’s new?—but we’ve been flirting, I have your hoodie, unless something goes terribly wrong in the next two weeks, that would be the next step, right?” You pointed out. “I wasn’t planning on overanalyzing this but…”

Sungchan let out a round of giggles, his whole face scrunching up as he laughed. “Oh… you don’t know how relieved I am right now to hear you overanalyze that for me.”

“What…?”

“No offense, but it’s a bit hard to tell when you’re analyzing and when you’re flirting,” he admitted, still looking at you with a wide, fond grin. “I mean, this all literally started with you calling me stupidly hot and that somehow being a bad thing.”

You pursed your lips ruefully. “I can see how that might’ve been confusing…”

“No, it’s great,” he chuckled. “You’re great.”

Finally sitting in a booth in the small roadside restaurant, which only had a handful of other customers, the two of you had put in your orders with Mrs. Han and were sipping on your drinks as you went back to your guessing game from the walk.

“We have to guess before we get back to the cabin,” you determined, folding your hands in front of you. “Other people there know us. They might say something.”

Sungchan nodded from across the table. “Good point. Time limit, I like it.”

“Business major. MBA,” you started immediately.

“What? No,” he snorted incredulously.

“It’s basically Undeclared for people who don’t want to disappoint their parents, I had to guess it, sorry.”

“Literature, writing, MFA, something in there?”

“No, and that was like two guesses, so I get two this time.” You clicked your tongue. “Master’s in education, focus in coaching pedagogy.”

“That was one?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“Okay, my second: International Relations.”

“No.” He cracked his knuckles. “I’m switching gears, because you seem to know a lot of degrees off the top of your head. You work in the Registrar’s Office?”

“No.”

“Damn! Wait, no, you’re an academic advisor?”

“Nope.”

“Graduate advisor.”

“No, and that was three in a row, Sungchan,” you pointed out humorously.

“I know. Alright, your three?”

“Can I ask a question to narrow it down instead?”

He squinted suspiciously. “What kind of question?”

“To help me narrow the field down. I won’t ask you to tell me the field, they’ll still be yes or no questions.”

“Yes, only if I can ask you the same.”

“It’d only be fair,” you confirmed. “STEM?”

“No.”

“Oh thank God,” you let out a groan of relief.

He laughed. “What’s wrong with people in STEM fields?”

“Listen, love a woman in STEM,” you defended yourself. “Men in STEM… they’re… how do I put this nicely? Insufferable know-it-alls?”

“That’s putting it nicely?”

“Yup.” You took a sip of your drink. “Don’t tell me it’s Finance either…”

“No.”

“Okay, I have one more…” You tapped your finger to your chin. “Is it a Fine Art?”

“No.” Sungchan looked down at the small bunch of flowers that you had set aside on the table. “What are you going to do with those?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Look at them for a while. Take pretty pictures for my Instagram. Toss them eventually, I guess. They’re not gonna live forever.”

Selecting one of the little pink flowers, you reached across the table to tuck it behind Sungchan’s ear. “There.”

He touched the flower, a similar shade of pink dusting his cheeks. “Thanks.”

“Your turn to guess.”

“STEM?”

“Math is my worst enemy, numbers were invented to harm me personally,” you retorted. “No.”

“I should’ve known,” he teased.

Mrs. Han brought your food out then, and you both thanked her before she bustled off to take care of a family that had just walked in. There was a pause in your conversation as you started eating. The food was delicious, and as you took another sip to wash it down, you looked out the window next to your table.

“The view is just crazy here,” you gushed, taking in the mountainside dotted with more colorful patches of wildflowers. You patted your pocket for your phone, then frowned when you couldn’t find it. “Where’s my—”

Wordlessly, Sungchan picked it up from the tabletop and held it out to you. You smiled at him. “Oh, thanks! Didn’t even see it.”

After taking a few pictures, you set your phone back down and returned to your guessing game. “Law?”

He shook his head, still chewing, and wiped his face before speaking with a clear mouth. “Nope. Are your job and what you’re studying related at all?”

“Yes.”

“Huh. I don’t think that actually helped me at all.”

“Education?”

“Mm, yes to the field, but I will make you narrow it down further,” Sungchan acquiesced.

You beamed at having finally gotten closer. “So I was on the right track with my second guess!”

“Are you doing a Fine Art?”

“No. Master’s in Early Childhood Education?”

He let out a soft chuckle as he sat back in the booth, holding his hands up in surrender. “You win.”

“Yes!” You cheered quietly, pumping a fist victoriously at eye level. “I was going to start at Early Childhood and keep going up in age bracket until I got a yes.”

“So?” He prompted you. “What do you do?”

“Right now, I’m a primary school teacher and I tutor on the side for some extra cash.” You watched his eyes grow wide as you revealed this. “And I’m taking a mix of night classes and online classes to get my degree in Educational Leadership and Policy Studies.”

“And that’s a…?”

“Doctorate.”

“Wow…” He breathed out. “Donghyuck really didn’t tell me anything about you before dragging me over to you at his party but uh—”

“Maybe he figured he’s got one friend who is a teacher and one who wants to be a teacher, might as well?” You suggested with humor in your tone, reaching for your glass.

“Yeah, maybe,” he laughed, his eyes sparkling as he kept looking at you.

When you and Sungchan finally got back to the cabin, you found it entirely devoid of your other friends.

“No welcoming party this time?” You scoffed, gesturing to the empty living room. “Now I’m thinking we should just keep the free fudge Mrs. Han gave us all to ourselves.”

“Hyuck did say they were going to take the boat out,” Sungchan reminded you, placing the bag containing said free fudge onto the kitchen counter. “And there’s no way the two of us could eat all that by ourselves before they got back.”

You made a small ‘hmph’ sound, moving to the large sliding glass door in the living room that afforded a view of the lake. The sun glistened off the water, and from here you couldn’t even see the next closest neighbor.

“Do you want to go down to the dock?” Sungchan suggested, joining you by the door. “They took the boat, but that doesn’t mean we’re stuck inside.”

“So,” Sungchan followed you down the pathway from the back porch down to the dock. “Once you have your degree, do you still want to be a teacher?”

“Yeah, my kids are why I’m getting it in the first place,” you explained, carefully picking your way down the steep decline. “I want to be able to advocate on behalf of them better, and understand what’s going on when the people who aren’t teachers are making decisions that affect us.”

“What year do you teach?”

“I provide supplemental curricula for all ages. Reading and writing mostly.” You peeked back at him over your shoulder. “Do you have an age you want to teach?”

A giddy smile tugged at his lips. “Little ones. Preschool. They’re so… Everything’s new to them. It’s so much fun seeing the world like that.”

“Yeah, it is.” You could feel that you were smiling too, turning your eyes back down to watch your step.

Soon, you were down on the dock, laid out on your towel as you enjoyed a puddle of sunlight, listening to the sounds of Sungchan splashing around in the water in front of you.

“You’re going to get skin cancer like that.”

Propping yourself up on one elbow, you looked over your sunglasses at where Sungchan had climbed back up the ladder and was sitting on the edge of the dock, pushing his wet hair out of his face. Like you’d said before, stupidly attractive.

“You literally helped me apply my sunscreen,” you drawled pointedly, recalling when he’d so coyly offered to help you get your back. Pushing your sunglasses back into place, you laid down again. “If I do, it’s your fault.”

You could hear him stand up and walk towards you. “I’ve never understood laying in the sun like that. Don’t you get all sweaty?”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m cold-blooded,” you replied humorously.

“Well, do you think you can survive one swim, or will your blood turn sludge in your veins as soon as you touch water?”

You snickered, finally sitting up. “Fine, fine, I’ll get in.”

Sungchan watched you get to your feet, then offered his hand out. You eyed it suspiciously.

“I’m getting in,” you promised, pointing to the ladder.

He offered his hand more insistently. “It’s not that bad. Jump in with me.”

You sighed, grabbing his hand. “Fine.”

Stepping up the edge of the dock with him, he swung your clasped hands in time as he counted, “One, two—”

“Three!” You finished, pulling him forward with you.

He rushed to bring his other hand up to plug his nose as you careened the both of you off the dock and into the lake. The water surged up around you, cool but not cold, not too warm to be gross, just refreshing enough. You squeezed your eyes shut as you went under, and let go of Sungchan’s hand so you could paddle back up to the surface. Wiping the water from your eyes, you laughed as he immediately pointed an accusatory finger at you.

“Dragging your heels only to pull me off!” He was grinning too.

“I’m sorry, did I see you plugging your nose?” You teased back. “At your big age?”

“I’m not getting a brain-eating amoeba, thank you,” he retorted. “You were asleep, but there was this billboard we passed on our way here warning people about it.”

“But do you know how to blow nose bubbles, Sungchan?”

“Well, no.”

“Okay, mini-swim lesson,” you declared, waving him closer. “Come on, I used to teach water safety to little kids. If I can teach a two-year-old to stop snorting water, I believe in you.”

“You taught swim lessons?”

“Yeah, it was my first job, in high school.” You locked back into instructing. “You can blow your nose, right?”

He looked at you blankly. “Yes.”

“Hey, some people have body awareness issues, it’s always better to ask.” You held your hands up defensively. “So, same mechanics, air goes out into the water, keep your mouth closed, and don’t inhale through your nose right after while it’s still underwater.”

You did a small demonstration for him, only submerging from your chin to your nose, letting out a slow stream of bubbles. Bringing your face back up, you added, “And try not to exhale all at once.”

Sungchan mirrored your actions, lowering his face until his nose was underwater, slowly exhaling. He uncertainly lifted his head again after, eyes on you.

You smiled and clapped your hands. “Yay! There we go!”

“That was... weirdly easy.” He immediately did it again.

“Now you just have to think about doing it all the time, until you don’t have to think about doing it.” You rolled over onto your back, relaxing as you floated. “Then you’ll never have to worry about plugging your nose again.”

“If you used to be a swim instructor, why didn’t you want to swim?” Sungchan followed after you curiously as you drifted away.

“Because then I do stuff like give grown men lessons on how to blow nose bubbles.”

“That was helpful.”

“And—” You popped up to tread water again, facing Sungchan. “I kind of hate lakes. And oceans. Anything that I can’t see the bottom in, and where stuff lives. Like fish, or brain-eating amoebas. I like my pools.”

His face fell. “Oh, well we can get out—”

“I said kind of,” you cut him off. “I don’t mind, because you wanted to swim, and I’m having fun with you.”

“But—”

“Sungchan.” You held his gaze steadily, keeping your voice calm, inquisitive even. “Have you ever done something you don’t really care for, because your friends or family wanted to?”

“Well, yeah.”

“They’re worth it?”

“Of course.”

You tilted your head with a knowing smile. “So are you.”

His face flushed with what you knew wasn’t the heat of the sun. “Oh...”

The sound of a boat motor in the distance caught your attention. Coming around a bend in the trees was, in fact, a boat, and while you couldn’t make out any individual faces at this distance, the fact that it was headed right towards you, and several of the figures were jumping and waving at you, you could guess that it held all your friends.

“Well, there’s everyone,” you laughed, heading back towards the dock.

Some days later, you were contentedly relaxed in a hammock that had been suspended between two trees in the spacious backyard of the cabin, humming along to a song playing from Ningning’s phone as you half-listened to whatever juicy piece of gossip that the other two were divulging. A cool night breeze passed over your bare arms and legs, pricking up goosebumps in its wake, and you shivered.

“I’m going to grab a sweater or something,” you declared, getting down from the hammock. Picking up your empty drink can from the table nearby, you added, “Not to mention, I’m out of seltzer.”

“Can you see if we have any more chocolate-covered pretzels?” Karina requested.

“Sure.” You grabbed some of the other trash to take in with you.

You passed by the guys playing video games in the living room as you headed for the kitchen, tossing the garbage out first. After throwing on a hoodie from your room, you went back into the living room, fully intending on checking the kitchen for Karina’s snack. Instead, you were met by a desperate, raucous chorus of yells of your name.

“Hm?” You looked up at the guys questioningly, stopping in your tracks.

Mark waved you over fervently. “Come here! We need an even number.”

“What are you guys playing?” You took a hesitant step closer, eyes scrutinizing the game menu.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s a button masher, super easy,” Shotaro reassured you, grabbing your arm and pulling you into the living room. “Sungchan’s not even half-bad at it.”

“Yeah, you can uh, you can even be on Sungchan’s team,” Hyuck said, exchanging a mischievous grin with a couple of your other friends.

“Okay,” you shrugged, plopping down into the space that Sungchan had made for you between him and the arm of the couch. A controller was pushed into your hand. Karina’s pretzels could wait.

“This moves your character around, this one is to jump, this one is to attack, this one is to shield,” Sungchan quietly explained the controls to you as the others started assigning teams, hands hovering over yours on the controller. “There’s some other special moves, but those are the basics. Just uh, stay away from Hyuck.”

You nodded. “Got it.”

“Nice hoodie by the way,” he added, much softer.

“Thanks...” You murmured back, well aware that you were wearing his from the car.

“Alright!” Jaemin announced loudly. “Let’s do it!”

Now, you didn’t exactly consider yourself a gamer. In fact, you spent most of the time either running away from the other guys, or at one point, accidentally falling off the level and losing a life all on your own. You couldn’t even tell if you were even really helping Sungchan at all. But it was fun, and you were kind of maybe starting to get a hang of the controls by the end of the round. To your surprise, the two characters that popped up as winners, however, were yours and Sungchan’s.

“We won?” You questioned, looking at Sungchan in surprise.

“Looks like we did,” he confirmed, smiling down at the controller in his hand.

“Hell yeah!” You held a hand up for him to high five.

“Sungchan, what the hell?” Shotaro smacked his arm from his other side.

“Since when have you been good at video games?” Jaemin interjected from the other couch.

“Have you been sucking on purpose this whole time and just decided to reveal that you were good now?” Mark questioned accusatorily.

“Yeah, we were joking when we said he was only half-bad at this game, he’s actually ass at it,” Anton clarified to you, making you roll your eyes at their apparent plan to give you the worst player.

“Sorry Y/N, he’s on my team next,” Hyuck declared, bringing up the character selections and switching Sungchan’s team color to match his own.

“Hey, change that back,” Sungchan said, his voice level but firm.

Hyuck actually stopped in his tracks, looking back at Sungchan with wide eyes. He held his hands up in surrender.

Sungchan switched his team color back to match yours with no interference from the others. You lightly bumped your leg against his as the room chatter started back up. He bumped your leg back.

The next day, everyone went out on a hike. There was a slightly overgrown trail that went around the mountainside, taking lazy twists and turns through the trees. Said greenery provided you with plenty of shade, and concealed the lake below from you so well it almost felt like you had transported elsewhere. The trail was narrow, however, only fitting three people comfortably at its widest points, but usually only two, so your group was spread out thin along it.

Jaemin and Hyuck were up front, arguing about… something that you couldn’t parse out from your place all the way at the back. Turning to Sungchan beside you, you took your water bottle out of the side pocket of the backpack he was wearing. Somehow he had been burdened with most of the group’s supplies, and while you weren’t exactly doing any sort of survivalist stuff out here, you didn’t see why everyone couldn’t at least carry their own water bottles.

Taking a swig from your bottle, you kept it in your hand as you pointed at him accusingly, “You didn’t suddenly get good at that game out of nowhere last night, Sungchan.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, I mean…”

“Were you sucking on purpose so nobody’s feelings got hurt?”

“I didn’t suck. I was just sort of… okay.” He tried to explain. “I don’t know if it was on purpose, I guess I just didn’t care if everyone knew that I was the best? I’m just not super competitive, really.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Hyuck speechless like that before either.” You laughed at the memory. “You don’t ever stand up for yourself with them like that, do you?”

“It’s not like they bully me or anything…”

“You just go with the flow?”

“Yeah, exactly,” he seemed to relax again at your words.

“I had fun playing on your team last night,” you said, taking another sip. “Win or lose. I’m glad you didn’t go with the flow that time.”

“Hey, hold still?” Sungchan requested, reaching a hand out towards your face.

You froze warily. “What is it? A bug?”

“No, no,” he reassured you, brushing your hair back from one side of your head, then the other. “Did you leave the cabin with only one earring in?”

“Shit, no!” Your hands flew up to clutch at your lobes, immediately feeling that one of them was empty. You looked down at the ground around your feet, despite the sinking feeling in your stomach that it was useless. There was nothing around you but dirt and grass. “Damn it!”

Sungchan made an effort to look under him as well, but came up empty-handed too. “I don’t see anything…”

“Well, damn,” you sighed, dropping your hands back down to your sides. “Could’ve been worse, I guess. Could’ve been my grandmother’s pearls or something instead of a pair of earrings I stole from my freshman roommate.”

“Seriously?” He laughed as you continued down the trail.

“It was an accident! Mostly…” You explained. “We borrowed each other’s stuff all the time, and when we moved out at the end of the year, the earrings ended up in my stuff. I told her I had them and she said I could keep them. Apparently they always made her ears itch anyway.”

“Sucks you lost one, though. I thought the little hearts were really cute.”

“Just like you thought my raggedy old t-shirt was cute?” You snorted.

“Exactly.”

“Why do you get shotgun, Y/N?” Anton complained from the backseat, his voice loud to be heard over the wind.

“Because it’s my car,” Sungchan retorted, his thumb tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel. “And I said so.”

You couldn’t help but snicker at the image of poor Anton and his lanky limbs squished into the middle seat between Shotaro and Mark. “You could’ve stayed at the cabin, Anton.”

“I was bored.” He crossed his arms. “And I thought Sungchan would’ve at least been sympathetic to his fellow long-legged brethren.”

“But the baby always gets the middle seat.” You turned around to pinch his cheek.

“I am not—”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Sungchan sighed, looking out the window. “With the way you’re whining right now.”

Anton’s jaw dropped as the other three of you broke into howling laughter.

Soon enough, you arrived at your destination, a natural park with a huge cave system. The main attraction, however, was that one section of the tunnels was so dark that you couldn’t even see your own hand in front of your face.

A small family, and field trip for what looked like a summer camp had arrived just before you all, and were put in the same tour group as your friends. You watched from afar with amusement as the counselors put the children into buddy pairs before the tour guide officially began the tour.

“Hey, don’t you teach, Y/N?” Shotaro asked curiously as your own group took up the rear of the tour, nodding towards all the kids.

“Yeah, I do,” you answered, the air immediately becoming cooler as you stepped into the caves. “Primary school.”

“Jungchan over here wants to be a teacher too!” Anton informed you cheerily, slapping Sungchan on the shoulder, the sound cracking through the entire cave loudly.

Several heads turned around to look at the source of the noise, and you all looked around at the walls of the cave innocently until they turned forward again. The cave was getting darker and darker, the lights strung up by the park employees getting fewer and further between. Your eyes continued to adjust to the changing light, but your surroundings were becoming less made up of clear objects with definable features and more the vague outline of shapes.

“Oh, really?” You asked mildly, barely concealing the humor in your tone.

“Early childhood education,” he replied calmly, hand sneaking up to pinch your side.

It took everything in you not to squeal as you squirmed away from his hand, elbowing his arm. You could hear the light puffs of his silent laughter next to you. Right as you had lifted your own hand up to retaliate, the tour group came to a stop, everything was pitch black around you, and Sungchan’s hand caught yours, lacing your fingers together. There were no lights in here, and the children’s excited chatter rose as the counselors spoke back to them to confirm that they were still there as well. You held your free hand up in front of your face, and the only way you knew it was there was because you could feel that it was. The only thing your eyes saw was darkness.

“That’s freaky,” Shotaro commented from somewhere behind you.

“What the hell, man?” Mark was somewhere to your other side. “Dude, I can’t see my hand! Just like it said online!”

“Oh! There you are, Shotaro!” Anton breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Yeah, I didn’t disappear in the five seconds since we walked in here,” Shotaro grunted. “Did you have to practically climb on top of me to confirm that?”

You reached out tentatively towards Sungchan, your hand eventually bumping into his chest. “Ah, found you.”

“Found me,” he echoed quietly.

The tour guide started ushering everyone out of the sector, and as the light started entering your vision again, your fingers unwound from Sungchan’s. The counselor’s voices floated back to you as they took a headcount of all their kids, who were still dutifully holding onto their assigned buddies.

Soft footsteps at the top of the stairs caught your attention, and you looked up from your laptop at the tall figure hovering there awkwardly. You offered Sungchan a soft smile, waving him into the small attic loft space. There wasn’t much up here except the couch that you were on, a narrow table, and a dartboard. The ceiling was so low that Sungchan had to hunch just the slightest to avoid knocking his forehead into the wooden crossbeams.

“Hey.” You pushed yourself up into a proper sitting position on the couch, your computer moving from your stomach to your lap.

“Why aren’t you out with everyone else?” He sat down in the space that you had freed up. The others had all gathered outside around the firepit to roast marshmallows and drink, but you had other things to tend to.

You nodded to the device. “Ah, I had some grading to do.”

“I thought you were on summer break.”

“Tutoring.” You set the laptop aside on the coffee table, even as your eyes caught on the screen fondly. “One of my students, I mean, she doesn’t need it for her grades. But she just loves writing, so her mom pays for sessions like private workshops. I’m working on her newest story right now.”

“How is it?”

“She’s so creative!” You couldn’t help but laugh. “It amazes me every time. She hasn’t quite figured out resolutions yet, still rushes through them once she’s decided she’s done with the exciting part. But she’s gotten a lot better with dialogue. She used to not write it at all, just tell you what characters said, never putting anything in quotes, you know?”

“It’s typed?” He questioned, looking at the word document on your screen.

“Yeah, she has coordination issues, pencils kind of slow her down,” you explained. “She’s working on it in her occupational therapy. But that’s not what this is for. This is to let her be creative. If I forced her to use a pencil, she’d have to stop writing because her hands were done before her brain was done.”

“That... sounds frustrating for her.”

“There’s other options now. I mean, when’s the last time you actually used a pencil in your everyday life?”

He seemed to think about this for a moment. “...Good point.”

There was a pause as Sungchan just kept looking at you, the moment feeling much like when you were in the restaurant, his dark brown eyes sparkling even in the dim lighting you had now.

“Did you miss me, Sungchan?” You eyed him teasingly.

“Well, yeah,” he agreed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“What did you tell everyone else you were doing when you came looking for me?”

“I didn’t make an announcement or anything.”

“Yeah?” You sat up closer to him, then did a double-take as you noticed a hole in his earlobe. “Hey, I never noticed you had your ears pierced.”

“Only one.” He turned his head to show you the other, unadulterated lobe. “Probably why you didn’t notice, you’ve always been on my other side in the car.”

An idea immediately came to your mind, and you stood up from the couch. “Wait here.”

Traversing through the house, you came back up the stairs with your prize clutched triumphantly in the palm of your hand. You held your closed fist out towards him indicatively. “Here.”

He held his hand out, letting you drop the single red heart stud into it. His eyes widened as he turned it over with a fingertip. “You’re…”

“I washed it, don’t worry.”

Sungchan promptly put the stud in, securing it with the backing and looking up at you again with a delighted, amazed smile.

“Cute,” you commented, tracing the shell of his ear with a fingertip.

“And what does this mean, Y/N?” He asked slyly.

“What am I going to do with only one earring?” You replied with feigned innocence. “And, I was kind of hoping you’d need help putting it on, since there’s no mirrors in here...”

He leaned back against the couch. “And how exactly would you have helped me put it on?”

“Well, I can’t really see from here, so, I would’ve had to get closer—” You stepped forward, putting your hands on his shoulders as you lowered yourself onto his lap. You kept your focus on his face the whole time, watching for any hesitation, any uncertainty, any indication that you should stop. His eyes watched you with rapt attention, big and brown and awe-filled.

“Good?” You asked quietly, your voice barely above a hum.

He swallowed, his throat bobbing up and down, and your eyes followed the movement, before he answered, “Good.”

“Then I would’ve put the earring in—” You once again outlined the outer shell of his ear, continuing down the line of his jaw. “And probably said something about the adorable little freckle you have on the bridge of your nose that I kind of want to bite.”

You tapped said freckle, high up on his nose, nearly between his brows, and his face split into a grin as he laughed breathily.

“Bite?” He repeated, clearly amused at the idea.

“Mhm.” You nodded, looping your arms around his neck. “You’ve got a very biteable nose, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, the whole nose is biteable, not just the freckle,” he chuckled, settling his hands on your hips.

“Well, more than just the nose.”

“Y/N.”

“Mm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

You gasped in feigned shock. “Before our first date?”

“Do I need to ask your hand in marriage first?” He was so close that your noses almost touched now, his question mingling with your answer that came soon after.

“No,” you snickered, letting him seal his lips over yours in the next moment.

“You mauled him.”

Turning around from where you were eating a bowl of cereal, you raised an eyebrow at Hyuck. “Good morning to you too, Hyuck. And nice bedhead.”

He didn’t fix his hair that was sticking up in all directions, coming around to flop into the seat across the table from you. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I don’t know who or what you’re talking about?” You snorted. Pushing the box towards him, you offered, “Cereal?”

“Care to tell me why Sungchan is covered in hickies and bite marks?”

“Care to tell me how you know that?”

“He sleeps shirtless, don’t try to avoid.”

“Why do you think it was me?”

“He disappeared from the bonfire last night and didn’t return, you didn’t show up at all, he appears the next morning coincidentally looking like he’s been someone’s chew toy. You’re... you.”

You cocked your head at him curiously. “Weren’t you trying to set us up?”

“I was. I still am, kind of,” he sighed. “Like I said, Sungchan’s the nicest guy I know. Don’t... chew him up and spit him out, please.”

“I’m touched you think so highly of me, truly.”

“That didn’t come out right,” he groaned, rubbing his face with two hands. “I meant... Make sure you two are on the same page about what you’re doing and what you want.”

“We are, Hyuck,” you told him quietly.

Hyuck peeked at you over his hands, and based on the crinkles that formed around his eyes, you could perfectly imagine the mischievous grin that was hidden. “So it was you, then?”

Footsteps entered the kitchen then, followed by Sungchan’s voice, deeper with the early hours of the morning, “Oh, morning, Y/N, Hyuck.”

He stopped next to your seat at the end of the table, seeming uncertain of just how close to be to you. He was wearing a longsleeve, which didn’t help much with the few marks on his neck and under his jaw. The red heart stud was still in his ear, which made your chest squeeze and your whole body thrum with happiness.

“Morning, Sungchan,” you said brightly, gesturing to the cereal box. “Cereal? Hyuck didn’t want any.”

“Oh, sure.”

“Sit, I’ll get your bowl.” You stood up, gently pushing him towards the table as you walked by him towards the cabinets.

“Gross, could you not do that in front of me?” Donghyuck made an exaggerated gagging sound.

“Do what?” Sungchan squinted at him in confusion at the same time that you scoffed, “Nobody’s holding you here at gunpoint. Go back to sleep.”

“Maybe I will.” He made a grand display of pushing his chair back and standing up.

“You’ve never been a morning person.” You shook your head at him. “See you in a few hours.”

As he shuffled back out of the kitchen, you returned to your mission of fetching a bowl and the milk, bringing them back to the table for Sungchan. He’d taken the seat next to yours, and you happily plopped back down beside him.

“Thanks,” he murmured, beginning to fix a bowl of cereal for himself.

“Good one sleeping shirtless, by the way. Hyuck had absolutely no questions,” you teased, finger poking one of the hickies facing you.

Sungchan gave you a pointed stare, but made no move to knock your hand away. “Oh and who couldn’t keep her teeth to herself?”

“I told you: You’re biteable.”

He reached up to grab your hand and removed it from where you'd still been messing with the marks you’d left on his throat. Instead of just pushing it away, he brought your joined hands down to rest on his leg. After a beat, he looked up at you, uncertainty in his gaze, as if he were about to belatedly ask permission.

You laced your fingers together, scooting your chair closer to his before picking up your spoon with your free hand.

As the anchor was dropped into the water, there was an excited buzz about the boat, everyone getting ready to get in the water. Hyuck had stopped the boat by a rope swing that was set up in a tree on one of the steep edges of where the mountain met the lake. A few inflatables were tied to the boat so they wouldn’t drift away, and of course, a couple coolers with plenty of drinks were on deck.

“Y/N, can you help me with my sunscreen?” Ningning requested, holding the bottle out to you.

“Ning, I told you to apply it at the cabin,” you sighed, accepting the sunscreen nevertheless as she took her coverup off.

“It’s not my fault we’re currently sharing one bathroom with like five other people!” She pointed out. “I didn’t have time.”

Sudden wolf whistles and dramatic yells from the back of the boat made you snap your head over, anger flooding your body immediately. But you realized that none of them were aimed at you and Ningning. Instead, the guys seemed to all be taunting Sungchan, who had just taken his shirt off, revealing the full extent of the love bites scattered on his skin.

“Dude, did you get mauled by a bear or something?” Mark laughed.

“Or fall down the mountain?” Anton’s eyes were wide as he went to poke one on Sungchan’s shoulder.

Sungchan slapped his hand away. “Personal space?”

“Fall down the mountain after getting mauled by a bear?” Jaemin proposed helpfully, moving behind him as if inspecting a product that he was purchasing at a store. “We got claw marks, guys!”

They all let out teasing cheers, and you could see that Sungchan’s ears were bright red. You shook your head to yourself, going back to helping Ningning with her sunscreen.

She craned her neck to be able to look at you over her shoulder. “Nice one, Y/N.”

“Who, me?” You blinked at her innocently.

“You left that poor boy to deal with those menaces by himself.”

You’d finished up with her sunscreen, handing her the bottle. “One sec.”

Walking over to where the guys were still razzing Sungchan, who now looked prematurely sunburned, you held a hand up to shade your eyes, squinting as you looked off towards the rope swing.

“I bet Shotaro could make it there first,” you commented casually.

“What?!” They all looked over at you, dumbfounded.

“No way!” Anton argued. “I literally used to be a swimmer.”

“But if you’re talking endurance—” Jeno tried to vouch for himself.

“All your big muscles just make you sink, dude,” Hyuck snorted. “You’ve got no buoyancy.”

As they kept squabbling, you were still eyeing the rope swing. “Yeah, but, Taro’s like, halfway there already.”

Their heads whipped around to see that Shotaro had, in fact, been lazily paddling towards the swing all the while they were teasing Sungchan. The guys all rushed to toss off whatever shirts, shoes, hats, or sunglasses they didn’t want to get wet, practically shoving each other in their haste to get in the water and race towards the rope swing. The boat swayed a little with their movements, and you grabbed Sungchan’s arm for stability, the only one of them who hadn’t taken your bait.

Shotaro turned around when he heard all the splashes behind him, confusion turning to momentary panic as they all rushed at him.

“Hurry up! You’re going to lose your head start!” Sungchan yelled out to him.

“What?!” He began backstroking faster. “I didn’t know this was a race!”

Karina was already in one of the inflatables off the back of the boat, and Ningning gracefully dove off the back platform to join in her one of the other ones.

Looking back up at Sungchan, you couldn’t help but burst into laughter at how perfectly that had worked. He was laughing too, one of his hands dropping to your waist to pull you closer to him.

“Thanks for the save there,” he chuckled, thumb sneaking under the shirt you were wearing to rub circles into the bare skin above your swimsuit bottoms. “Did you put sunscreen on?”

“Back at the cabin,” you confirmed. “Hate to disappoint.”

“You could’ve lied and said no.”

“I am nothing if not an honest and pure soul,” you put a hand over your heart as your words were laced with sarcasm.

Sungchan snickered at this, his smile so bright you could forget about the sun, leaning in even closer to him.

“Sungchan.”

“Mhm?” He looked down at you, tilting his head inquisitively.

“Can I kiss you?”

“In front of everyone?” He gasped, still teasing.

“That’s a little bit the point.” You couldn’t take your eyes off him—so gorgeous it really was unfair. “And also, I really want to kiss you right now.”

“What a coincidence—I want to kiss you too.”

You grabbed the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to yours. He immediately responded in turn, his other hand that wasn’t on your hip going to cup your cheek. The sounds of various taunts, cheers, and whistles all faded out behind the roaring in your ears.

It was your last night in the cabin, and you were of course celebrating with one last bonfire. Your group of friends were spread out between the firepit, the hammock, and the other lounge furniture on the spacious deck. You and Sungchan were tucked onto a small loveseat by the table of food, idly chatting as you sipped your drink and he nibbled off the snack offerings in front of you.

The sliding glass door opened behind you, one of your friends walking out from inside the cabin. Glancing up, you saw that it was Mark, his eyes down on his phone screen as he shut the door behind him.

“Those little rolls from Mrs. Han’s restaurant were really good,” Sungchan sighed happily, hand on his stomach.

“There’s still one more,” you pointed out. “Take it.”

He looked uncertain for a moment, but you nudged him with your foot insistently.

“Everybody’s already had one. Go ahead.”

Sungchan had just reached forward towards the last roll as Mark walked by, eyes on his phone as he swiped it from the plate. The man next to you just sighed dejectedly, sitting back in his seat.

“Hey, Sungchan was going to eat that,” you called after Mark loudly. Not too rude, just making him aware as he clearly hadn’t been paying attention.

Mark turned around, looking at you two, then down at the roll in his hand in confusion. He offered it back out to Sungchan. “Oh, sorry man, I didn’t realize—”

Sungchan waved him off. “It’s okay, you can have—”

You stood up, walked over, and snatched it out of Mark’s hand. “Thanks, bye.”

Mark paused, as if he were thinking about saying something else, but opted not to, walking over to sit with Jeno and Hyuck by the fire.

You sat back down next to Sungchan and placed it in his hand. “Here.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” Sungchan was clearly fighting a smile as he looked down at his feet. He tore the roll in half, offering one half out to you.

You took it gratefully, tapping your half against his in a little cheers before you both simultaneously stuffed the whole thing into your mouths in one go. Looking at him with his puffed-out cheeks, knowing that yours definitely looked exactly the same made you burst out laughing, and your hand flew up to cover your mouth and keep any crumbs in. Sungchan was clearly struggling to not spit out his half-chewed food as he started laughing too, turning away from you and slapping his leg.

When you had finally chewed and swallowed the bread without choking, and composed yourself again, you turned back to Sungchan, still well aware of the faint, smitten smile on your lips. He was already facing you, watching you with a fond sparkle in his eyes. He reached out, brushing a couple crumbs from the side of your mouth with his thumb.

“Oh, thanks.” You habitually wiped the other side of your mouth just in case.

“I’m curious…” He said quietly, grabbing one of your hands to gently play with your fingers. “Have you picked out what we’re doing for our first date yet?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I don’t want to spoil anything.” You then added a teasing, “Plus, we have to get home first. Who knows, your car might get another flat on the way back and then we’ll get stranded out here and die.”

He burst into soft chuckles. “Since you won’t be navigating, I think we’ll make it back just fine.”

“I like those odds,” you beamed.

“Me too.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, then murmured by your ear, “I like our odds a lot, I think.”

The next day found you in the passenger seat of Sungchan’s car, wearing his hoodie and humming along to whatever he was playing over the speakers. The car had a full tank of gas, four inflated tires, and the maps app was not in your hands.

“You know, I get it now,” Sungchan spoke into the peaceful quiet abruptly.

You lolled your head over to look at him questioningly. “Get what?”

“Why you were suspicious of me at first.”

“You finally realized how stupidly hot you are?” You snorted, reaching over to pinch his cheek.

“I’m thinking I should’ve been more suspicious of you, actually.” He pinched your cheek right back, and you smacked his hand away. He just laughed, grabbing your hand and entwining your fingers over the console.

“Why’s that?”

“We haven’t even been on our first date and I feel like I’ve gone head over heels right down the mountainside.”

You groaned and shook your head. “I was suspicious of you for the wrong reason. You’re not a player or anything, you’re actually too sweet for my own good.”

“Your own good?”

“Yeah, you keep saying shit like that and I’m going to do something crazy like say ‘I love you’ on our first date.”

He laughed, squeezing your hand. “Challenge accepted.”

⤷ masterlist

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ivestas · 2 years

Text

a good shot

Summary: König had a staring problem, so you confront him about it.

Tags: sniper!fem!reader x konig, platonic!141 x reader, barely edited, awkward, unintentional confession(?)

Word count: 1.1k

Note: my mw2 obsession is real. been trying to deny it but its all that occupies my brain.... send some reqs?? i have such a bad habit of saying that then not following thru but i promise i will LMFAOOO (nah but fr tho im working on ur guys’ requests, just veryyyy slowly since, again, mw2 brainrot) also sorry if this seems rushed, i just wanted to get this idea out of my head hehe

König had a staring problem.

You really didn’t know why, but whenever he was near, you could practically feel his gaze burn a hole through your skin.

You weren’t one to care for stares—you were used to it, especially in your early years as a merc. Most would just be curious why a woman was wearing a bullet vest, especially civilians.

But... König’s eyes were intense. Nothing like the curious—or even hateful—looks you were used to.

You were sure you hadn’t done anything wrong; you barely spoke, never really caring too. You kept to yourself. You didn’t particularly stand out next to your flamboyant peers.

So... why?

You’d first asked Soap about it: he was a people person, always seemed to know someone’s intentions in an instant.

However, he was confused. “He stares at you?”

"You hadn’t noticed?”

“No? I barely see the lad in general, always skulkin’ in some shadow.”

“Seriously?” You frowned. “Then you think you’d know why?”

“Hmmm... here, maybe if I get my crystal ball and ponder for a bit I can find out!”

"Shove the ball up your ass instead.” You snorted. Soap laughed, probably at his own joke than yours.

Getting up, you headed to your next target: Ghost.

You found him in the mess hall, taking apart his rifle on one of the cafeteria tables by himself. Without a second thought, you slid beside him. He didn’t acknowledge you.

Propping your head up with a hand, you look at him. Despite it being night, he’s still wearing his balaclava and shades. You decided it’s best not to make a comment about it since you’re trying to pry answers regarding the Austrian Colossus.

“You’ve noticed König staring at me, right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Do you think you’d know why? I’m sure I hadn’t done anything to piss him off, but he’s always just... you know...” you widen your eyes, leaning in. “Doing this. I don’t know whether to be unsettled or flattered.”

Ghost carefully puts two pieces of his rifle together, a satisfying click resonating in the air. “Maybe he’s surprised why the 141 got a clown for a sniper.” He intoned.

“Says the guy wearing a skeleton balaclava and tinted shades—scared the enemies are gonna find out you’re actually just a loser with nothing to his name?” You said the words too quickly, and when Ghost looked at you, he probably knew the thought was bubbling in your head.

"...”

“...”

You couldn’t help the laugh that crawled out your throat, and you noticed that the corners of Ghost’s eyes crinkled.

“...So you don’t know?”

He snorted. “I’m no psychic.”

Sighing, you rose from your seat, leaving Ghost once more in his own bubble.

You really didn’t want to, but you realized you were gonna have to ask from the source itself—König.

Now, you didn’t consider yourself a shy or anxious person, but there was something so imposing about König; maybe it was the fact he literally towers over you like some Goliath, or maybe it’s the fact he only speaks in raspy monosyllables, or, maybe, it was the fact that he just always stares at you, but you couldn’t deny the nervousness that writhed in the pit of your stomach.

But curiosity shined over it, because just why would he just stare?

So, you decided to head to the shooting field: it was an open secret that König often lurked there at night, shooting away at the targets from the day. No one really complained since he’d replace the targets with new ones at the end of every session.

The walk was short; just a quick turn through some halls and out through a door and you’re in the range.

König was some meters away, hunched over a stack of crates and a sniper under his arm. His back was to you.

You stepped on a stray stick just beside your foot. His head shot up.

He turned around in an instant, sniper tight in his hand.

They were right. He’s antsy.

“Hey, König.”

“...”

You slowly approached as though he were a frightful deer... but perhaps a cautious bear would be a more accurate descriptor. He could kill you in seconds.

Like anyone can. It doesn’t scare you.

Admittedly, it’s a little exciting.

“Can I talk to you about something?”

“...yes.”

“Your eyes—uh, you stare. A lot.”

His gaze flickered away.

“Just wondering why you just... stare. I’m pretty sure we’ve never spoken, either—”

“We’ve spoken,” he cut in. Rough and light, as usual. “Mostly on missions though.”

“Oh... well, I’m just wondering if I pissed you off, somehow? Earned your ire? I’m dumb, I forget and I can be socially unaware—”

“No, no, no!” His eyes rounded, the sniper loosened in his hands. “No, you didn’t! I just, well...”

“...well?” You echoed, prompting him to continue.

He did.

“You’re nice to look at.”

Your brain froze.

Oh.

“I’m sorry, is that weird?—it is, isn’t it? I apologize, I—”

“No, wait, I’m really flattered, I just—” you laugh breathlessly. In disbelief. “That’s just really fucking flattering.” You can feel your face light up with heat, and all the neat composure you’ve built wash away completely.

Now, you’re reduced to a blushing schoolgirl at a complete loss for words.

What were you supposed to say? What does that even mean? Is that an admission of some crush, or were you just eye candy to him?—and did you like that, like his attention or are you just that deprived of contact?

You force your eyes to his, and you realize he’s hunched over, rubbing at the metal butt of his sniper with a thumb, eyes everywhere except on yours.

"So...” you rubbed your wrist. “What now?”

He finally looked at you. “Huh?”

You were this far already, you weren’t gonna back down yet. Even if your heart was slamming against your chest. “You just called me pretty? And I have a feeling you’re easy on the eyes too—maybe this is too quick—but wanna hang out then? Like, talk and stuff... because... I’m pretty?”

König stared for a moment before breaking into a laugh. “It would be an honor.”

“Then let’s hang out right now! Stay here, I’m gonna grab my sniper and we’re gonna shoot shit till bullets’re covering the ground!!”

König extended his sniper. “Use mine. I want to see how you shoot.” His eyes fluttered, gaze awkwardly averting yet again. You were beginning to find it endearing. “You’re a good shot. And I’d like to get better.”

“And watching me will help you?”

“Yes,” he said the word with earnest, eyes bright.

A crooked smile pulled at your lips. Fuck, you weren’t used to this.

But you liked it. You liked it a lot. You just hoped you could eventually make him feel the same.

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

#konig x reader #mw2 x reader #modern warfare 2 x reader #könig x reader #modern warfare x reader

6K notes · View notes

minisugakoobies · 22 days

Note

Mingyu 💞

💞 [ Reunion ] - A longing kiss shared after being apart for a while

This almost ended up being 1k 🤦‍♀️ I am sorry! But the 'gyu brainrot is REAL and it is STRONG 💕

**********

"You know, you didn't have to come."

You roll your eyes as Jeonghan repeats himself. True, your brother doesn’t really need any help picking up his friends from the airport, but you'd insisted on tagging along anyway.

"They're my friends, too," you declare.

"No, they're not." He glances at his watch, then shoots you a look. "You're not gonna be weird about this, right?"

You ignore him, choosing instead to focus your attention on the faces of the passengers now crowding around the luggage carousels, wishing you could brush aside the buzzing of your nerves just as easily as you shut out your brother's voice. The only thing weird right now is how excited you are to see your brother's annoying friends again. You've known Seungcheol, Seungkwan, and Mingyu for ages.

It's been two months since the guys left for baseball spring training. Jeonghan normally would've been with them, but his broken ankle is keeping him benched this year. His incessant whining about being left behind made it a very long sixty days.

But the countdown is over. They're back. And you’re anxiously elated.

Because something changed in the few weeks leading up to their departure, between you and -

"Mingyu." His name falls from your lips as you spy him across the room. Even with his snapback pulled low on his face, you can see how his tanned skin glows, popping against his white tee. You bite back a sigh, wondering how it’s possible that he’s grown more gorgeous in just a few weeks. "I mean, I see the guys."

You lift your hand in a half point, half wave, and it catches Seungkwan’s attention, who then nudges Seungcheol, who in turn shoulder checks Mingyu. You feel the moment Mingyu’s eyes lock onto yours, stomach swooping like you’re in freefall when his lips lift in a soft smile.

You come crashing back down to earth as the other guys spot your brother. The regression is immediate, all four of them suddenly obnoxious teenagers again, with their secret handshakes and crushing bro hugs and unreasonably loud ballbusting. This is how they always say hello, so it doesn’t faze you one bit, though it does make quite a few of the other travelers standing around you glare.

Once they’ve finished their raucous greeting ritual, the luggage carousel begins to move, and all you get are a few quick head nods before the guys start pulling their bags off the conveyor belt. Your heart sinks a little.

Weird, don’t be weird, you think, plastering a blithe smile on your face and pretending to laugh as Seungcheol not so subtly trips Seungkwan with his roller suitcase. Maybe it was weird for you to expect more of a reaction from Mingyu. The two of you had only hung out a few times, a couple of casual dinners, some drinks, one movie, and then, the night before he left -

Well, maybe it didn’t mean what you thought it did. The two of you had talked a little bit while he was gone, but never about anything serious. You suppose you could’ve asked him about it, but you knew he’d be busy with baseball, and maybe also you didn’t want to know.

Your mind remains thusly occupied as you follow the guys out to your brother’s beat-up car. Jeonghan pops the trunk from the driver’s seat, using his now-healed ankle as an excuse to get out of helping them. Seungkwan and Seungcheol hastily toss their bags into the tiny space and clamber into the backseat, leaving Mingyu sighing in frustration.

“Thanks for the help, assholes.”

“Here, let me,” you mutter, not quite looking Mingyu in the eye as you join him.

Together, the two of you rearrange the bags, trying to make everything fit. While the other guys sit in the car loudly fighting over where to grab lunch, you and Mingyu work quietly, in a comfortable silence. It makes you think that maybe it’ll be okay, if things go back to the way they always were before, even if your pulse still races the way around Mingyu the way it’s doing now.

It’s not until the trunk closes that you finally meet his gaze. Mingyu smiles, that slow-spreading smile of his that makes you weak in the knees, and leans toward you, voice hushed as he speaks. “Sorry I didn’t get to give you a proper greeting earlier. Is it okay if I do now?”

You’ve no idea what that means but your answer is, of course, yes, an emphatic head nod that makes Mingyu huff out a surprised (and pleased) laugh. His hands drop to your hips, shuffling you towards him just the slightest bit, and then he’s kissing you, lips moving against yours, slowly, longingly, like he’s been dreaming of this moment for two months and is bound and determined to make sure you feel it.

Weird, how you’re surrounded by hundreds of strangers pouring out of the airport, and yet it feels like there’s no one else around.

At least, not until your brother lays on the horn.

#mingyu x reader #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #mingyu #emoji kiss game #ask games #fatimaloveskpop

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rotthepoet · 2 months

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Fwb!lorenzo so cocky cause he has to much control over you. For example you say something mean about one of his friends, he'll raise his eyebrows and tilt his head smirking as you start to stammer or if your beside him he might lightly tap the back over your thigh and mouth 'watch yourself' then being all smug when you melt away against him.

OMGGG YOU GET ITTTTTTTTTTT i have lorenzo brainrot just hear me out let me ramble

He has so much power in your situationship that like its a problem

Man basically owns you(he makes sure you know it too) like… and hes not even in an actual relationship with you??!?!??!! How did he do that???? If he was feeling extra freaky he so might put you in a collar with his name on the tag(honestly you wearing his name gets him going. Wearing his quidditch jersey? Hes cooked)

Okay okay because Lorenzo doesnt do ships. Relationships.

Not this lorenzo anyways, in some other universe you fix him and he gets better and loves you unconditionally, but not this one. This lorenzo has like 20 bitches under his belt aT ALL TIMES. You’re just his favorite right now. He actually likes you. Enjoys your company. Youre not just a fuck, youre a fuck he can stand being around. So with him it def starts as a one night stand but like

It doesnt…. one night

It was supposed to be a one night stand but it just continued, okay?

So anyways hes got you now, and essentially he treats you like a girlfriend but without the title or the love. you’re under his arm half the time. Just pressed against his side while he walks you to class. And like. You love this man. Youre desperate to fix him. Me too. But anyways youre spending a lot of time together.

And the reason it looks like you’re his girlfriend is because Lorenzo is SO controlling! He wants to know what youre doing 24/7, or he wants to tell you what to do. He has a quidditch match? Wear this and sit in this exact spot. You’re going out with your friends? You cant wear that. youre going to a bar? You have to leave if any guy talks to you.

And youre just kinda conditioned to it at some point.

You’re around Lorenzo enough that his friends know you now. They find you fun actually. You’re awesome. Anyways. So theres a lot of playful banner, calling one another pussies, making dirty jokes, you get the idea. And lorenzo really regrets this because he doesnt like sharing you attention! You were just supposed to sit pretty on his lap, not tell Theo to suck your dick!!!!

He isnt a fan of this. And he’ll let you know. A pinch to the back of your thigh? Right under your skirt? Oh you know to knock it off. The look he gives you across the room when you speak “out of turn”? Its such a turn on. He cocks his head to the side with an amused smile and it makes your pussy throb omg. You know youre getting it later.

Especially out in public. Hes got a fucking app on his phone that count up the amounts of times you pissed him off.

He gets so mean sometimes. Youre arguing and fighting and words are getting mean and you say something out of turn and he goes silent. And you go silent. And he has this dark look in his eye as he snaps, “watch your mouth.”

And it makes you crack every time. You’re wrapping your arms around his neck, whispering about how sorry you are, and he’s petting your hair before he grabs it and tells you not to let it happen again. It will happen again. Especially after he fucks the attitude out of you.

#rot says so #fwb!lorenzo #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #asshole lorenzo berkshire core #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x reader smut #lorenzo beekshire is a bitch and i stand by that #mean lorenzo berkshire supremacy #lorenzo berkshire x reader smut

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instant-delusions · 8 months

Note

OH MY GOSH are you a rafayel lover too 😭 i swear, i love him so much! and im happy that l&ds comnunity is growing here that a new ff of raffy is posted everyday when i refresh the tags! im glad u seem enthusiastic to accept requests 😔 my raffy brainrot is so bad i need my fix!

can i request? we know rafayel has some sort of "abandonment issues" and we know where it stems from and how it manifests (where he says mc can do what they want as long as they come back to him or let him know what they're doing 😭) and imagine that mc GENUINELY forgets bc she's tired from all the work as a hunter, and when she meets raffy again, he's quiet and she's trying to prod a word out of him but he won't budge cuz he's hurt 😭 and u can go on from there! aargh i love hurt/comfort so much.

happy valentines!! (in advance) 😔🎊🎂

YES rafa is my babygirl. my muse. my glubglubglub. my everything. HE'S SUPER RELATABLE TOO ??? HELP my abandonment issues are literally the same, I'm almost offended 😭😭💔 tysm for the request & happy early valentinesss 💓💓💓

ʟᴏ$ᴇʀ=ʟ♡ᴠᴇʀ !

rafayel x reader

cw: burn-out like symptoms, wounds/blood, arguing, cursing, hurt & comfort

𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧𓇼

6:00 a.m., you skimmed over rafayel's last message and told yourself to reply later - of course, as fate does, a super strong wanderer appeared which occupied you for an excruciating, multiple hour long fight. it was night when you returned home, stripping off your uniform and throwing your gun on the kitchen counter. You barely made it to bed, soaking your sheets in a bit of blood before completely passing out.

it was noon when you woke up again and evening when you were done with your report and bandaging your wound. finally, you were able to check your phone, and it doomed on you. rafayel's message stayed unreplied. you scrolled down his other three texts.

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼

11am rafa: are u ok?

12am rafa: (y/n), can I come over?

1pm: are u serious? not this again.

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼

you furrowed your eyebrows in regret, but exhaled painfully right after. your wound opened again.

you were forced on another, quicker mission that night, but it still left you exhausted, your former wound nagging at you still. once again you came home late, passed out, and woke up around noon. opening your phone, there were no new messages.

quickly, you pressed the call button and were shocked to find the artist wasn't picking up.

𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧𓇼

5:00 pm y/n: hey, sry rafayel. work has been a lot lately.

5:01 pm y/n: I'm rlly sorry

𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧𓇼

wincing, you sat down, your heart beating anxiously for some reason. 'what if this is it? I broke his promise. there's no reason for him to stay. it's fair, but I need him around. because...'

because you like him. it's selfish, you want him around although you barely fill his needs. suddenly, a very familiar dark cloud forms in your stomach and you feel depressed. deeming another relationship ruined by your work, you open social media to drown out the silence.

several hours passed until a knock at your door ripped you out your daze. quickly, you got up and open it. "rafayel." you say, his name coming out almost like a sigh of relief before you could register it. he was dressed in his white shirt, and white pants adorned with an intricate silver belt - he looked put together as always. you, on the other hand, were in an oversized tee, messy hair and deep eyebags with chapped lips. "hi." he simply greeted, making his way into your apartment.

you followed him, breathing anxiously at his unreadable aura. "listen, rafayel - I'm sorry, I wanted to reply and text you but.."

"you forgot." he replied, crossing his arms. there was a look of hurt and disappointment in his face. "it's not that simple." you argued, breathing in to continue, but he emotionally cut you off. "it is, though. (y/n), if you'd like me enough, a simple task like keeping me updated would be easy."

"rafayel. I like you, I like you a lot but..." you breathed in deeply, the harshness of his words getting to you enough to make your eyes teary. defeated, you sat down on your couch, burying your face in your hands. "these past days have been a lot, I could barely take care of myself and most of the time I was either fighting, passed out or tending to my wounds..." you trailed off weakly - due to your eyes being covered, you couldn't see rafayel's eyebrows raising in shock at your reaction, his arms slowly sinking.

"I swear if I'd have a normal life, I'd text you regularly, but it's not." slowly, you raise your head to meet his eyes - yours were puffy and red, tears streamed down your face. rafayel stayed silent, waiting for you to continue.

"it'd be selfish of me to wish for you to stick by me while i don't fulfill your needs, i know i'm not a good...friend. I try to do my best, rafa. you mean a lot to me, but i understand if you want to leave. you deserve someone better."

at this point, tears were streaming down your face freely, and soft sobs escaped your throat. rafayel lowered his gaze, afraid he'd sink to his knees and beg for forgiveness instead. after a while, he sat next to you, slowly intertwining his fingers with yours and brushing his thumb across your hand as he watched your body move with your sobs. "(Y/N), there is not a single part of you that is selfish."

gently, he holds your cheek and makes you look at him. his hand remains there as he continues talking.

"rather, it is me who is selfish. i crave your attention and validation, and feel hurt if i don't receive it. i'm sorry for being petty, i should've come over sooner. and..."

rafayel moves his hand to wipe away your tears and softly kisses your forehead, he smiles as he hears you breathe out softly.

"i could never bring it over my heart to part from you."

you gaze into his rich, magenta eyes and feel your heartstrings pull towards him. it's as if there were a bridge between your chests. closing your eyes, you feel your love for him blooming in the valleys of your bloodstream and bubbling out of your skin, and it weirdly feels as old as millenia, as if you'd known this love all your life, and all the lives you lived before.

"i'm glad." you smiled wobbly, "i feel the same." with a sigh, you leaned your head on his shoulder and let your body relax.

"i dunno how to feel about you calling us 'friends', though."

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #lads #rafayel #love and deepspace rafayel #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #lads rafayel x reader #love and deepspace rafayel x reader

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kennahjune · 8 months

Text

Teen Dad AU

Part 4!!!!

Tag List: @cam-cat-writer @irregular-child @grimmfitzz @fantrash @bookworm0690 @fiddledeedee85 @hunterbow04 @strangeforest @just-a-tiny-void @jaimeweasley13 @thelittleclare @rebellatio-03 @sirsnacksalot @geekyfifi @sapphireoceansoc @salty-h0e @mentallyundone @dragonmama76 @lingeringmirth @moomkin77 @nextflixisacopingstrategymom @jaytriesstuff @finntheehumaneater @jackiemonroe5512 @goodolefashionedloverboi @hellfirebaby-86 @blackpanzy @blu3stars @strawberryyyenthusiast @lololol-1234 @thestarslittleking @silenzioperso @forest-fogg @bebopbabyy @lawrencebshoggoth @stevesbipanic @dauntlessdiva @live0rdive @y4r3luv @jonesn4coffee @sofadofax @sensationalsunburst @scarlet-malfoy @l393ndjean @asspirin-s @fandomz-brainrot @mugloversonly @virginlemontea @littlebluejane @paintsplatteredandimperfect @astrid-nomically-steddie @maferisa-7 @phantomrose17 @thoughtfulbreadpolice @fandomnerd103 @atemisiscursed @croatoan-like-its-hot @myownworstenemyyy

AAHHHH IM SO SORRY FOR ANYONE WHO WASN’T ABLE TO BE TAGGED!! The list is unfortunately officially full, I’m so sorry :( everyone who has been tagged here will be tagged in all future parts!!! (I’m also terribly sorry, some of them won’t tag properly).

Without further ado:

Monday nights were now spent with Noah, Casey, and Miss. Bottomette (“Just Margaret is fine, dear”).

They’d come over to Steve’s trailer or he and Louie would go over to theirs and they’d gather around the tables to have dinner and talk.

Steve’s never had a dinner with others where he wasn’t expected to act a certain way. Where he wasn’t expected to be mature and serious.

With Miss. Bottomette and the kids, he goofs off and isn’t reprimanded for it. He puts his elbows on the table while talking to Noah and isn’t slapped upside the head for it.

It’s a very welcomed change.

It’s on one of these Monday nights that Steve officially gets his new babysitter.

He’d had to call off on the dinner. It was last minute and unexpected but they’d all been incredibly understanding and Steve appreciated the hell out of it. He was pulling his shoes on while on the phone with Miss. Bottomette when he’d let it slip.

“I’m so sorry again, Miss. Bottomette. I know this is really last minute and we were supposed to eat at mine tonight but Mason’s got a fever and they need me in the kitchen for the dinner rush—“

“Steve, sweetie, it’s alright. Me and the twins will be quite fine on our own for one Monday, I assure you. You just focus on making sure you don’t overwork yourself to death tonight, yeah?”

Steve chuckled at that, pulling the laces on his sneakers tighter and crafting the phone between his shoulder and ear. “Rodger that. I’ve gotta get going though, need to get Louie situated before I head out.”

“That’s quite alright, dear. Is that Nancy of yours coming to watch him? Or are you taking him there?”

Steve huffed a slightly pathetic chuckle that was more air than anything. “Nah, Nancy’s got her own dinners on Monday nights. Louie usually comes in with me and waits it out.”

Steve was standing straight now— well, with one hip cocked to the side and his hand resting on it. But his shoes were firmly on and Louie was watching him with bright eyes. Steve smiled at the baby and made a face that had Little Louie giggling and covering his mouth with chunky little hands.

On the other line, Miss. Bottomette hummed.

“Well that just won’t do, huh? I could take him for the night, Steve.”

Steve startled and put both hands on the phone.

“Oh! No no no— that’s alright, Miss. Bottomette. My manager, George, is really chill about letting me turn his office into a daycare for Louie while I’m at work. And I’ve got people to check on him there while I’m busy so I’m not leaving him alone the whole time—“

“I hear that, hon, but maybe it’s time you let someone take him off your hands for a bit, yeah? The twins will want to see him at some point anyway.”

Steve pursed his lips and twirled the phone cord around his fingers.

“I seriously can’t ask you to do that, Miss. Bottomette. I’ll be on shift until at least 10 tonight and then I have to help with closing so there’s no guarantee I’ll be back before 11.”

“And that’s quite fine. I’m fully capable of watching your boy until then, dear.”

“Are you sure?” Steve’s voice was so small, so unsure. It made something break a little in Miss. Bottomette’s chest.

“Yes, absolutely.”

Steve sighed into the receiver. “Ok.” He whispered and relented.

“That’s what I thought.” Miss. Bottomette chuckled. “Now, should I come over there or are you ok with bringing him over here?”

Work was a doozy.

Between coming in at 6:30 and working until just past 11, Steve was asked constantly about the lack of Louie in the diner.

It was fun and comforting in a way to have so many people care enough to ask about the missing baby. But Steve just wanted to get through his shift quickly to get back to said baby.

He could feel the nerves eating away at him. Steve kept watch on the time all shift, watching the clock tick slower every time.

He’d never left Louie home like this before. Never with anyone other than Nancy. The anxiety was absolutely agonizing but he pushed through until his break, where he called Miss. Bottomette from the phone outside.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Miss. Bottomette, it’s Steve.”

“I know who it is, ain’t no one else call me ‘Miss’ who know me like you do, son.”

Steve managed a slight laugh. It was true. For months now, Steve has been practically apart of their little family. And yet he still referred to her so formally. It was simply something that was beaten into him from a young age.

“You’re right, sorry. I was just calling to check on you guys and Louie?”

“Everyones alright over here, Steve. Noah and Casey are just about passed out on the couch and Louie’s fast asleep in bed.”

Steve breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you so much, Miss. Bottomette.”

“You’ve got it dear. Now go get back to work, and tell Gwen and Allya I said hi.”

Steve could hear the smile in her voice.

“Will do, thanks again.”

He hung up after their goodbyes. God, he really needed a cigarette.

He ran inside real quick to grab his pack out of his bag, lighting up the moment he set foot back through the door to the alley by the diner.

Steve hadn’t been able to smoke too much lately with Louie and the twins. Miss. Bottomette also smoked, but she had explained how she’d dialed it down astronomically with how much the twins were over.

Steve was just halfway done with his cigarette, lost in his thoughts and staring off into space when a pair of boots stopped in front of where he was sitting on the curb.

He spared a glance up to the sudden intruder, giving a second glance when he saw Eddie Munson.

Steve blew the smoke out of his lungs. “Um, hi?”

“Harrington.” Was the only response he got.

Steve ground his cigarette out on the sidewalk and stood, tucking the now put out cigarette behind his ear. He took half a step back so he wasn’t quite chest to chest with Eddie.

“Hey, man. Uh— I’m not really looking to buy anything at the moment.” Steve stumbled his way through a sentence. Eddie Munson was a looming presence that Steve couldn’t figure out, not since he’d fist saw him when he started high school.

Eddie was only a year ahead of Steve despite being nearly 2 years older than him. When Steve had started his freshman year, he’d been immediately pulled into Munson’s orbit of lunchtime rants and class skipping.

Until he was pulled by Cairo Rickson, the then-basketball captain. Eddie had kinda left Steve in the dust after he joined the basketball team.

Now Eddie Munson was redoing his senior year a second time— they even shared some classes. But they’d never spoken outside of school or Steve’s old house parties.

Eddie was staring at him with an odd flicker in his gaze. Something that threw Steve almost completely off. Something that almost looked like interest.

Steve swallowed. It was then that he actually took in Eddie’s face— not just his eyes. (Eyes that were so big and dark Steve thought they were black. He’d later realize they were actually a dark brown.) Eddie’s mouth was pressed in a line, his cheeks flushed from the cold breeze, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

He looked almost stressed.

“You alright, dude? C’mon, Eddie talk to me here. You’re kinda freakin’ me out.”

Steve felt his natural worry starting to kick in. That urge to press and figure out what was wrong.

Eddie opened and closed his mouth a few times before sighing aggressively and rubbing a harsh hand down his face. He wore a ton of rings that glinted in the streetlight they stood under.

“Listen—“ Steve was cut off.

“Do you have a lighter? Mine is fucking me over and I just really need to smoke.”

Well, ok then.

Steve blinked owlishly for a moment before spurring into motion.

“Um, Uh! Yeah! Yeah, I’ve got a lighter. Hang on—“

Steve handed over his lighter without a second thought, watching Eddie pull an already-rolled joint out of his pocket and immediately light up. Steve payed extra attention to his lips— pink and bitten-raw— when he blew out the smoke.

“Thanks, man.” Steve’s eyes snapped back to Eddie’s looming ones. They were wide and earnest, no longer narrowed and suspicious.

“Yeah, no problem.” He accepted the offered lighter, ignoring the tingle from their brushing pinkies.

“Alrighty then, Steve-o. Catch you later.” Eddie gave him a two-finger salute and promptly walked away. Steve watched him go, following him with his eyes until he was out of sight and leaving a chorus of “what the fuck” replaying in Steve’s mind.

He tucked his unfinished cigarette back into the box and went to finish his shift.

True to his word, Steve wasn’t home until just before 11 that night.

Miss. Bottomette was up and waiting for him, the lamp in the living room on a low setting because there for some reason were never living room lights in trailers. The twins were spread out on the floor, lying on top of each other with Casey’s head on Noah’s legs while she practically kicked him in the face.

Steve snickered quietly to himself, dropping his bag quietly on the couch and closing the door as silently as possible.

Miss. Bottomette barely glanced up from her book to greet Steve. The familiarity gave him butterflies.

“Hey, sweetie.” She bookmarked her page and took off her glasses.

Steve smiled sweetly at her. “Hi, Miss. Bottomette. Louie alright?” He’d noticed the absence of his baby bug the moment he walked in the door.

“He’s quite alright, dear. Sleeping in your room, yes with the pillows.”

Steve deflated slightly, his worries seeping out slowly while Miss. Bottomette reassured him.

“That’s good. Great, yeah. Thanks so much. You need help taking these two back?” He nodded his head to the twins sleeping on his carpet.

“No it’s fine, hon. I’ll just wake ‘em up and let ‘em complain themselves tired again.” She grinned mischievously. Steve giggled.

“I can carry them over,” he offered instead.

“Are you sure, dear? You have to be exhausted after your shift, they can deal with a little bit of walking.”

Steve shook his head and smiled. Yeah, he was tired to the bone, his muscles sore and his legs on fire from standing and serving, but he’d be fine for this last thing. Then he could crash.

He stooped down and took Casey first since she was practically on top of Noah. She woke up briefly, just to smile at Steve and wrap her arms around his neck. He ran her outside and to their trailer just one place over. Setting her down was difficult as she didn’t want to let go of him to lay her bed, but he pried her off eventually.

Noah had shifted to curl around a couch pillow on the floor while he was gone. While Miss. Bottomette shuffled around grabbing all of her stuff, Steve picked up Noah and chuckled when he stayed completely dead to the world.

Noah was slightly heavier than Casey, but Steve made do and walked him carefully to the trailer and into his room. Noah was still out like a light, despite the slightly harsh landing because Steve’s arms gave out.

The twins shared a room, it being split down the middle by a curtain. Steve made sure they were both tucked in and sleeping before turning the lamp on on Noah’s side (he was scared of the dark) and pulling the curtain closed.

Miss. Bottomette was waiting for him again when he got home, her bag over her shoulder and the twins’ shoes in her hands. She smiled at him.

“Thank you so much, hon. Those two are going to wake up tomorrow thinking they teleported.” They both chuckled.

“It was no problem, seriously. Thanks again for watching Louie all night.”

Miss. Bottomette waved him off and gave him a big hug instead.

“Enough with that ‘Miss. Bottomette’ nonsense, kiddo. You can call me Margaret, or even Gran. I promise you there’s nothing wrong with dropping the title.”

Steve swallowed and wrapped his arms around her in return, blinking an onslaught of tears from his eyes. “Thanks,” he whispered into her hair.

“Alright.” She pulled back. “You go ahead and crash. I’ll see you when I see you tomorrow, though you have both school and work, huh?”

Steve chuckled and nodded.

Miss— Gran left then, closing the door as gently as she could (but the door was a piece of shit and had to be slammed in order to fully close). Steve sighed and finally toed his shoes off.

He glanced at himself in the bathroom mirror after a nice, hot shower. His hair was getting longer, curling around his ears and reaching the back of his neck. Steve smiled a little. He liked the length.

Slipping on a shirt that was two sizes too big and his Hawkins swim shorts, Steve didn’t waste another moment before getting into bed right next to Louie.

He turned off the lamp and let the night light shine bright instead. Louie already had a death grip on Steve’s pointer finger. He smiled at his baby and let himself fall asleep.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #teen dad steve harringon #steve harrington is a damn good dad #not tagging a lot today cause I really just wanna take a nap #not proofread #plz don’t judge

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idkfitememate · 6 months

Text

In Eden’s Garden

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : GN! Adam/Eve Reader x Lilith + Obey Me Character

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 6.4k

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : fluff to angst, character death, Reader is basically a angsty teen

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : Got bored, got too many brainrots and obsessions rn and wrote this “super fast” just to prove a point *AHEM*

(Also you kinda have a “set” look in the beginning, but that’ll change! It’s for stories sake I’m sorry-)

((Also also, I’m so sorry guys… you start off as a Texan I’m so sorry-)) [Fun fact I have a slight southern accent and it’s wild when I hear it-]

Yes this is the Adam/Eve!Reader x Obey Me. It has been rotting my mind for months I’m not sorry-

The Garden of Eden.

Never was it, nor its human counterparts spoken of in a negative light in the Celestial Realm.

Talk of trees that grew above the clouds and lakes so crystalline that you could see every grain of sand under the perfectly glowing sunlight flew out of Angel’s mouths, some even admitting small amounts of jealousy at how finely those mortals were living.

It interested Lilith.

Youngest of seven siblings and one of the Seven Heavenly Virtues - that Virtue being Patience - she was of high status and importance among those lucky enough to live under their Father’s light and guidance.

She wanted to know more than what those baseless rumors and tales could offer her, so one night, beneath the many star like moons of her home, she flew down beneath the clouds but above the stony bridge that would have snatched her away, down into the depths of the Devil’s Realm.

Her wings, as pure as a dove, flapped endlessly to carry her over gorgeous mountain ranges and wide plains of golden grass, over the bluest of oceans, to find this fabled Garden.

And finally? She came upon it.

Landing gracefully on the emerald green grass, she took in the sight. She supposed this Garden truly was what one would get if you took a piece of The Celestial Realm and placed it in the Human Realm.

Colorful birds filled the sky with trees of every type surrounding her. Animals she had never seen before lunged around her. Feeling giddy, she began to run with the multiple groups, eventually taking off.

She flew over a lake, lowering herself right above it to gently grace her fingers over the top, ripples feathering out and creating small waves behind her. Fish kept from the water around her in grand arks, and with a giggle she pushed herself higher with a great flap.

Liliths giggles bubbled into loud laughter, as she soared over tree tops with beautifully colored birds, spinning and diving with no one to tell her no.

She felt free.

That was, until she didn’t manage to catch herself in a dive and crashed through the treetops.

She slammed into the grassy floor of the forest, dragging through the dirt as rocks flung out of her way, eventually being stopped by a tree. It took her a moment to really get her bearings, but when she did she was suddenly all too aware of her surroundings.

It wasn’t nearly as bright here as it was out there.

The shadows of the trees were long and bird song was suddenly silenced. The winds picked up and branches shook harshly, leaves being pulled from their trees.

She could barely make out the sun, clouds blocking its path, and the lack of other creatures was deafening.

Something was watching her. Not unlike the gazes of her elders when she made a small mistake on a document or once again had a day where she stole her closet brothers away to just have fun.

Its gaze was attached to her back, and she curled into herself. She was wrong, this gaze was worse.

It wasn’t scrutinizing her, it was observing her. Watching her movements. Taking her in.

She felt something she couldn’t identify. She hadn’t felt it before. Something crossed of anxiety and that feeling when someone was angry with her.

She was… scared?

That word flew through her mind. She heard it scarcely with fellow Angels. It wasn’t something usually felt in her home, as it’s wasn’t truly necessary. They were supposed to be happy in the Celestial Realm, and fear was not positive, it was a negative, something Demons would usually deal with.

So why was she…

A branch snapped in the background, echoing through the empty forest around her. She jolted upright, grabbing her knees and wrapping her arms around them.

Her breath grew heavy as she began to look around wildly, her wings puffing up as she curled into herself tighter. Her knees to her chest, she instead took her arms from her legs and wrapped them around her head.

“Whoever is there… please…”

Her voice was weak. She shook in the breeze, the delicate flowing fabrics of her gown dancing wildly in the wind with her hair. Her sniffed, trying hard to hold the tears that had suddenly formed in her eyes at bay.

“Please…”

Suddenly, she heard footsteps, fast and steady, rushing towards her. Her head shot up as they grew closer, fight or flight kicking in immediately. She jumped up, arms cradling her chest.

“W-wait!-“

Deciding against talking, she ran.

She hadn’t thought she’d have to fight, so she saw no need in bringing her holy weapon. Her bare feet pounded against the earth. Wildly thrashing through branches, leaves and sticks got stuck in her hair, scratching her face, ichor slipping from the wounds. She pushed through the forest, looking for a space to take off. She heard the footsteps growing closer and faster, nearing her with animosity.

Finally she burst from the forest line and down a hill, tumbling down and landing on her wing awkwardly, causing a dull pain to scream through the joint. White feathers flew as she fell, small screams falling from her throat. She finally rolled to a stop, tears and ichor mixing on the ground. Her shaken sobs making her body shiver on the ground.

She turned and laid eyes on mask, painted with gold and black accents.

Long flowing golden hair trailed behind them as they walked towards the fallen Angel. A tight black top clung to their chest, sleeveless and cut off right below the pecks. A pure white sash wrapped around their shoulder and down onto their waist, a bow on their thigh tying it together. Large, black flowing pants with golden accents ended at their ankles where their feet were wrapped in bandages. Armor clung to their arms - black with golden trimmings - one arm having slimmer armor that ended at the wrist, revealing an archer’s glove, the other arm ending in a gauntlet with sharpened claws for fingers. A small amount of the same armor rested on their waist, held together with a golden chain. A white scarf that flowed behind them covered the bottom part of the white mask with golden inlays that hid their face from Lilith.

What brought it all together were the feathers that attached to one side of their mask. A large golden one, two pure white ones on either side of it, and a small row of black feathers behind them.

A bow rested on their back, large and black in color with golden accents, made of the same metals that made the armors that covered their skin. A long sword rested on their back as well, under the bow. A circular shield rested atop the bow, though from the angle she lay at, Lilith could not see the design on its front. The sheath was beautifully decorated with golds. A quiver rested on their hip, filled to the brim with arrows begging to be used, surrounded in smaller bags and satchels. And finally, in their hand, was a large and imposing spear. Long and thin, yet it looked to be made of a strong metal, one light enough to glide through air if thrown.

They slowly and antagonizingly made their way towards the fallen Angelic girl, who in a last ditch effort shot a weak burst of light from her palm. It was hot, but if not hot enough to injure then it would be bright, to blind. Though unfortunately, the person just smacked it away with their spear.

They made it in front of the still downed Lilith, who was preparing to prey to The Father for safety, before they crouched down and kneeled before her. They both stared - Lilith assumed they were anyway - at each other for a moment. Then, the clawed hand came to their mask, and slowly pulled it above their head.

Lilith’s eyes widened.

“A genuine Angel..? Here..? Well, I do apologize for our horrid meeting. Hadit been in my hands I’d’ve had you land safely into m’ arms, pretty lady. Now, what can this a-humble human do for a graceful lil’ thing such as yourself? Father got any new messages f’ me?”

Soft (e/c) eyes stared back into Lilith’s with a soft smile as well. A hand was offered to her as well, which she took. The spear in hand was safely placed on their back as they pulled her up gently, their un-clawed hand gently wrapped around her waist.

“Oh! Where are my manners! S’cuse me, but I’m The First. Eh, heard from the last Angel that visited that ya’ll might call me Adam? Or Eve? Couldn’t really tell. You can pick though, pretty lady. Speakn’ of, what’s your name dove?”

They gave her a toothy grin as she stared wide-eyed at them. They were… Adam… and Eve? Looking at their body they looked neither feminine nor masculine, a perfect mix of the two. As did their face.

“L-Lilith…” “Well nice to meet you, Lilith! As I said, Adam or Eve I don’t mind neither, course you could come up with somethin’ of yer own!”

Lilith continued to stare at the human-you as you walked her through the forest she just ran through. Taking her through a small yet visible path into a small clearing, sat in the center was a small little hut of wood with a high standing brick chimney.

“Oh! Darn, yer wing! Ah, my apologies Lilith, I assume this happened when ya took that real big tumble down the way? Now, I ain’t ever heal no Angel wing before, but I’d be a fool not to try for you, dove.” Their hand brushed over her wing gently, smoothing down some feathers. Lilith looked at them, taking in their features once more. They looked… young.

“How long have you been here..? Alone..?” The looked at her with widened eyes, before turning back to the hut.

Silent with a thoughtful look on their face, they opened the polished, wooden door and showed Lilith inside first, closing the door behind them. With a flick of their wrist, a flame enveloped their hand, and with another, shot out of their grip, startling the Angel.

It flew to different corners of the house, bouncing off walls and other surfaces until they found their placement in various lamps around the room, bathing the small house in a warm glow.

“How did you… you spoke no words-“ “Yeah, been doin’ things of that sort for as long as I can remember. Didn’t mean to startle you. But to answer your other question… I don’t know, truly. Been left with my thoughts for ‘bout as long as I’ve been alive, not countin’ the few Angels that may come down with a message from The Father anyway.”

They sat her down in a small chair, and she really took in her surroundings.

It was all one room really, only a wall separating what she assumed was the kitchen from the living/bedroom. The kitchen had the bare minimum, a wood fire stove and a couple small chests and cabinets. In the living room was the base of the chimney, a fire having been lit inside it with a large pot rested against it. In front of it were two wooden chairs, each draped with thick woolen blankets. Behind the chairs was a bed that took up a large corner of the home, pressed to the wall next to the door. A small window rested above it, as well as a shelf with small pots containing various flowers of different sizes, shapes and colors. Beside the small kitchen area was a small circular table - where she was sat now - with four chairs surrounding it. It sat in the corner opposite to the bed, with a window beside it as well and a potted flower in the center.

It was small, but cozy. As she looked around, Lilith barely noticed as the human, who had placed their weapons at the foot of the bed and mask on a hook next to it, took a look at her wing, gently flexing it and feeling up the joint to get a better feeling for the injury.

“S’nothin’ too bad. Pulled a muscle, might be a sprain. I’d say stay off it for a bit, maybe ‘bout a… week?” Lilith looked at them incredulously.

“A WEEK!?! I NEED TO BE BACK BY TONIGHT!!! I can’t stay here… I need… I can’t-“ She kept up from the chair, causing it to clatter against the floor. She flinched as it fell but the human simply stared.

“Is there anything you can do?? I need to leave, this was a on a whim trip and no one knows I’m here-“ “No one knows?” They interrupted.

“Well now dove, ain’t that a bit irresponsible of you?” Lilith sighed with a grimace.

“Well… yeah. BUT I WAS CURIOUS!! I couldn’t help myself! I just had to see the Garden of Eden. It sounded to pretty a magical and and… oh isn’t there anything? I’m not the greatest at healing magic, my brothers usually take care of all my cuts and scrapes…” The human smiled at her while gently rubbing her back.

“Now don’tcha worry your pretty lil’ head dove, ya interrupted me ‘fore I could say that’d be if I couldn’t heal it, which I can. So you just sit back down an’ led me work my magic, alright?” They picked back up the chair she had knocked over and sat her back down.

“Plus, a week ain’t that bad compared to what it woulda been f’ me. I’da been outta commission for at least a month. But with y’all’s fancy Angel bodies, healing is all quick like. Notice here? Ya face scratches are all gone dove.” Lilith gently placed a hand on her face, noticing the dull throb of any of the scratches she sustained in the chase were gone.

“I-I guess I never noticed, considering we don’t regularly get hurt in The Celestial Realm…” She mused. The human chuckled.

“Heh, wouldn’t expect y’all too. Anyway, gonna have this wing fixed up faster than double-struck lightning.” The Angel looked that them.

“What?” “Eh?”

They both stared before the human chuckled.

“Don’t mind me, let’s just get this here wing fixed up. I’m gonna count to three, and then you’re gonna hold ya breath, alright?” She was confused, but Lilith nodded.

“Alrighty, one…” She closed her eyes and took a breath.

“Two…” She felt the humans hands wrap around the injury.

“THREE!” A loud *SNAP* sounded through the room, and her eyes shot open. Before she could scream or anything of the sort, a cooling sensation flowed through her wing, the dull pain she felt washing away. She sighed in relief and leaned into the touch of the human. She couldn’t see it, but a sweet smile crossed their face.

“Thank you… so much…” “It’s no problem, dove. My fault you even got hurt in the first place. Again, my apologies f’ that.” Lilith huffed.

“No, it’s my fault for even getting in this situation in the first place, I shouldn’t have left without permission. Maybe I would’ve known where your dwelling was and could have made a safer landing.” That human chuckled and gently pulled her up.

“Now now, don’t go gettin’ your knickers in a twist over this, alright? Here, we both take blame.” “No no, I did more harm in the long run-“

They placed their hands on her shoulders, mindful of the claws on their single gauntlet.

“Nope. Not hearin’ you out ‘bout this. Anyway, you best be getting outta here now dove. Wouldn’t want’cha getting in no kinda trouble just cause you came down and visited this mortal. Come one now, let me show you out.”

A arm wrapped around her waist, gently leading her back to the front and out the house into the small clearing.

“Next time ya come ‘round here, make sure ya got some kinda permission, alright?” They asked. Lilith blushed as she looked back, an embarrassed chuckle following.

“I will. Promise.” The human smiled back.

“Alright then. Now then, it’s time f’ you to swap spit an’ hit the road.” The Angel looked back, aghast.

“It’s time for us to WHAT?!” She screamed, leading the human the lift their hands in surrender and laugh.

“Sorry, I just meant it’s time for you to leave, dove.” Lilith sighed and chuckled with them.

“Alright, thank you again! I will visit, I hope you know that!” They nodded and she smiled.

With a final smile, she leapt into the air, wingbeats echoing through the landscape. As she cut through the sky, she took a glance back and noticed them enthusiastically waving her off with a big silly grin, causing her to grin.

Yeah, she’d be back.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍮🍯🍧୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Belphegor had begun to notice Lilith’s absences were increasing.

It wasn’t odd for the youngest of the seven to go missing on one of her little adventures, but for them to be happening so often?

And on top of that, she seemed happier. Now, don’t get him wrong, Belphegor loved seeing his sister so happy, but the thing was he couldn’t tell what exactly was making her so happy.

Also she called him “as pretty a peach”??? Whatever that means??? What even was a peach???

Anyway, he was determined to find out what it was, especially since last night she came home THREE HOURS after dinner all giddy and stuff.

Today was the triplets day off and with Beel out for the moment and her in her room, Belphegor figured this would be the best time for questioning.

Knocking on her door and waiting for the muted ‘come in’, he entered the room and closed the door behind him.

“Yeah, Belphie?” Lilith was sat on her bed on her stomach, legs swinging above her. Her head was resting in her palm as her other hand held a letter.

“I just had a question, nothing serious. May I sit?” Belphegor asked from the door. He pointed beside the laid down girl who giggled.

“Yep! Go right ahead.” She said, rolling over and sitting up. Belphegor sat by her feet and looked at his sister.

“My question is… what’s been making you so happy lately?” A sour look crossed the man’s face as Lilith only stared… Before bursting out into laughter over his expression.

“PFFFT- WHAT KINDA QUESTION IS THAT BELPHIE???” She laughed. Belphegor coughed into his fist to hide his now embarrassed expression, causing Lilith’s laughter to only grow in volume.

“W-Well I only ask because you’ve been so... so… Giddy! Lately! Like your head has been in the clouds!!” Belphegor defended, Lilith’s laughter quieted.

“Well for one, aren’t our head technically always in the clouds?” Belphegor stared at her as she grinned. With a chuckled, she continued.

“Besides, it’s nothing super important. I just maybe… kinda… might think I’m in love?” Belphegor did a double take.

“You might be… what?” “Okay head me out Belphie-“ Belphegor shook his head in shock. His little sister? In love? With who? What were they like? Likes and dislikes? How old? So on and so forth. Questions ran through his mind a mile a minute.

“Before you ask ANY questions, they’re younger than me, super nice and take my wants into consideration, cares for nature, and is just the sweetest person I’ve met. They even cook and clean and can sew and even crochet! Isn’t that just amazing…” Lilith immediately looked away from her brother, clutching the letter she was holding to her chest.

Belphegor figured the letter might be from the person in question, so in a moment of selfishness - to which he knew he would pray about later - , grabbed the letter from her, causing a gasp from his sister.

She immediately complained, pushing at her brother to get it back, but he stood up and held her back with one arm, reading the letter aloud.

“- Don’t worry about the bruise, it isn’t nothing to worry about. Anyway, those Celestial flowers you brought me are doing wonderfully. You were right, all they needed was a bit more sunlight than the regular flower, like a sunflower. Might show you the sunflower field I found the other day if you want. Don’t feel rushed to come back down, however. And please say thank you to Yael for making the trip to and fro. Glory to The Father, may he smile upon us. Goodbye, my dove.

- A.E.”

Belphegor looked at his sister who was flushed in embarrassment. She had given up fighting in the middle of his reading the end of the letter, and was sitting on her heels on her bed.

“A.E.? What kind of name is that? And why are they acting as though they don’t live here? “Those Celestial flowers you brought me are doing wonderfully.”? That’s not something someone who is here would say, Lilith. Just who is this?” Belphegor looked to his sister whose blush had disappeared by then.

She sighed as she looked to her brother, gaze clouded for a moment before huffing again.

“If I tell you… promise to not tell anyone?” Lilith’s voice was uncannily soft compared to her usual loud and outgoing self. A little uneasy with her sudden change in tone, Belphegor nodded.

Lilith hesitated and opened her mouth, then shut it, then thrust her hand into her brother’s chest, pinkie out turned.

“Pinkie promise?” Lilith’s eyes held… worry? Fear? Belphegor couldn’t read it well but whatever it was it immediately sent signals off in his head.

“Yeah… yeah of course.” Belphegor held out his hand with pinky extended, wrapping it around hers.

“I may have… gone to the Garden?.. And talked to a…” she hesitated, “human..?” Belphegor looked to his sister with now widened eyes.

“You went to… the Garden? Like, THE Garden? Of… Eden? Where the… humans live?” Belphegor spoke their name like a taboo, which made Lilith cringe.

He knew why, humans were still relatively new and were more or less a hot topic. Either you never spoke a word or they were all you could talk about. They were something of a passion project, as was rumored. Something that was aloud to have varied results, and more importantly:

To make mistakes.

The was the supposed “beauty” of what would soon be humanity.

Or so Belphegor was told, anyway.

He never got it, as the Virtue of Diligence, it was literally ingrained in his being to always be alert to any mistakes and correct them as quickly as possible, to ensure everything ran smoothly. Sure, sometimes a mistake could prove to be beneficial, but more often than not, that was untrue.

So how an entire race could be conceived from the idea of mistakes propelling them was… Belphegor just couldn’t understand.

So to hear his sister, LITTLE sister mind you, had gone down and… interacted with those things?? He was a little upset but… her eyes.

Lilith’s eyes shined with a wonder he hadn’t seen in them in a while, life finally growing bland after their millions of years of existence. She had something new, and it clearly brought her happiness. Who was he to take that from her.

In the grand scheme of things it didn’t affect her work to much, and Father had never explicitly told them to stay away…

“Does this human seem to have any intentions of hurting you?-“ “NO!”

Lilith raised her eyes and flinched back in indignation at the words, looking offended, a hand landed on her chest.

“They would never! I’m impressed you’d even say such a thing!” Chuckles rung from her as she began to kick her legs slightly, covering her mouth with a hand. Belphegor smiled.

This may not have been his favorite predicament, but she was happy. Perhaps he could give these humans a chance.

…

This would be his first time making a “mistake”.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍡🍬🍩୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Years went by and Lilith’s visits to you didn’t stop.

Nearly every weekend was spent with you, sharing stories and otherwise. You’d taught her a few tricks of your trade as well, such as sewing and wood carving.

All was well.

Of course, until it wasn’t.

Yael, the Angel you and Lilith had trusted to take your messages to and from each other, had “crumbled under the pressure” and told a higher up. Who told someone higher than them, who told someone higher than them and well…

You hadn’t seen or heard from Lilith is weeks.

You were getting worried, but you had no way of getting to the Celestial Realm to check on her. So you waited.

And waited…

And… waited…

Lilith, meanwhile, was trying her hardest to convince the others to allow her back down into the Garden.

she had been forbidden, Angels weren’t meant to meddle in the affairs of mortals unless explicitly instructed too, after all. The Realm was still figuring out the logistics of Guardians, so no one Angel - without permission - was allowed down there.

Lilith begged and cried and sobbed, doing everything in her power to convince them that she deserved to go back down. That nothing had truly changed or happened. That’s she hadn’t fully interfered with the mortals.

All it took was an image of your now sullen face staring at the sky awaiting her return for the council to agree that she would never again be allowed to see you again.

She had exposed you too much.

You’d most likely not move on for years.

And she sobbed.

Her brothers had never seen her cry like this.

She fell to her knees and sobbed and pleaded with the council to reconsider, to give her another chance;

To at least allow her to say goodbye.

All requests were denied.

And her brothers were forced to watch her fall into something they had only heard from Demons, a “Depression”.

No longer did she go on spontaneous adventures, nor did she make jokes or try anything new.

It was simply work, eat, sleep, and staring longingly at the gifts you had given her.

Her colors dulled as time went on, and she slowly lost her glow.

Lucifer just couldn’t take it.

He tried to reason with the council. Asking them time and time again.

Always getting denied.

He only got more desperate as days past and she got duller and duller…

And finally he snapped.

Lucifer didn’t know how it happened. Once second he was asking peacefully.

The next he was chocking someone.

He let go after regaining control of his body, breathing heavily and palms shaking. After which a shouting match broke out.

And soon after that meeting, things only got worse.

Chocking turned to punching, punching turned to full on fighting, and fighting turned to the first angelic death by angelic hands in history.

Then the declaration of war.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍪🎂🧁୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

The days seemed to pass like a blur to you.

From days filled with planing of what new thing you could introduce to Lilith and where you could take her, now filled with the monotony of what like was before.

Farming, hunting, animal watching.

Barely did you touch your loom or carving tools, only when you needed a new utensil or blanket.

You hated it.

You missed her smile, and her laugh.

You sighed as you polished off another deer skull, taking a hammer and smashing it across a rock. Picking up the pieces, you take them to a small plot of land and begin to bury them beneath the tilled dirt.

though your eyes immediately met those of a dove, and you smiled.

“I’ll wait as long as you need, dove.”

It fluttered softly onto your upturned hand, cooing softly at you. Your eyes softened and you ran your free hand through the feathers on its head.

“As long as you need.”

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍮🎂🍩୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Years passed without much thought.

You remained oblivious to the war raging on above you.

Angels blood was technically on your hands and you couldn’t be the wiser.

Masses fell into their graves, simply because you needed to morn.

And now here you were, staring into the sky in shock as you watched the body of the woman you loved streaked across it, obviously mortally wounded.

You cried, and with a yelp, leapt into action, rushing behind her as she fell.

Your weapons discarded, you ran through rivers, jumped over rocks and basically glided through fields, all to catch her.

You barely noticed when you left The Garden.

Rocks dug into the skin of your feet but that was the least of your worries as you screamed her name, begging the Father to wake you from this awful nightmare.

Your arms raised high to catch her, begging her to please land in your grasp, barely paying attention to the cliff before you-

You fell.

You had never fallen from such a hight before.

Your long hair billowed through the wind with your clothes as you watched through tears as she hit the earth.

Then you hit a cliff.

A *SNAP* rang through the air as you landed on your back, head over the edge, perfectly positioned to see her and her… brother?

Two other men came as your breathing shallowed, a conversation you were too far away to hear taking place before you, before the man with the leathery wings performed some kind of spell, and her body ignited in a flame.

Your vision grew blurry as blood seeped from your mouth, coughs mixed with crimson bubbles escaping your lips as she disappeared. Her brother - who you realized was Lucifer, though his color pallet was much different than what she described - kneeled before the men.

With what little strength you had left, you clasped your hands together.

‘My Father who art above, please heed this prayer. Let be me reborn and find my love once more. Let us continue to be the star crossed lovers we believed ourselves to be. Please Father… and if one must be punished let it be me, for I had forsaken her from your land when my mortal lips met hers. Allow me this repentance and… let me… see… her once… mo…r…’

Your thoughts were silenced as you slipped away.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍪🍯🍫୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

You hated that prick in the sky.

You had given Him your everything, pledged yourself to Him.

You thought He was merciful, well apparently not.

Hundreds of thousands of fucking years.

You’ve had to watch her descendants live their lives, always finding a way to bump into them.

If this was His idea of a cosmic joke, then you wanted to bash your fucking skull in.

I mean, you’ve tried but he made you immortal on top of everything.

You had been reborn, as you asked, then to find that she’d been reborn as a human too. Great! You even had all your memories so you assumed she had her and…

…

…And then you were getting invited to her wedding as her ‘best friend’.

Never did you ever think you could’ve experienced a pain like that, like your soul shattering and being crumbled into dust but there you were. Watching her get wed off.

And have children.

And die.

You grew numb after a while, because why wouldn’t you. Seeing them grow became a past time, seeing where they ended up and then how many people attended their funerals.

Morbid game but it helped pass the time.

You got to watch as humans evolved and took over the planet, eventually coming to a point where they might destroy it if they aren’t careful.

You’ve watched technology grow and tack over and magic users be forced into hiding.

You’ve watched kingdoms rise and fall, nations grow and shrink, the belief of Angels and Devils become lesser and lesser.

You remember when Solomon, the big bitch of magic users and demon pact collector extraordinaire, was born. That was fun.

You remember when The King of the Devildom went to sleep, that was also neat, though you’re pretty sure that happened just a while before you died… time was a blur.

And naturally, you remembered when the brothers officially became “The Demon Brothers.”

You never forgot.

When out with “friends” - they were more people you surrounded yourself with to numb the pain of life - you just said you had Hyperthymesia, which led to more questions and other shit you couldn’t be bothered with.

The Father only know how many times you’ve gone through Highschool and Collage for the hell of it, there was shit else to do and at this point you were a hidden billionaire with how long you lived, plus it was nice to stay up to date on current affairs.

You had cut and dyed your hair same near every color under the sun at the this point, now at (h/c) for the time being.

One of the shittiest parts, however, was your morals.

The Father must’ve thought he was the funniest fucker in reality because he basically singed the Seven Virtues onto your soul, the on top of that made you the living example of the Seven Sins.

You couldn’t do shit without feeling torn apart.

Couldn’t spend large amount of money on yourself without feeling the need to give it away, but when you did you just wanted more money.

Never got a good nights sleep anymore because part of your brain would want to stay up to make sure nothing bad happened.

Couldn’t gouge yourself on a mountain of food without wanting to hurl halfway through because it “was enough”.

So life was shit in every way.

And then, the fucking cherry on top?

When a friend - who you knew full well was a decadent of her - got a letters from the Devildom about some “exchange program”. They tossed it because they thought it was a scam, which was fair.

You only read it out of curiosity, and when you say your jaw dropped? I mean it fucking dropped.

You knew all about Diavolo’s little “re-connection” thing, had since he announced it really, but to see it actually coming to light was… an experience you weren’t expecting.

Honestly you didn’t want them to go.

This descendent, MC was their name - such a weird fucking name - was one of your favorites. They were a chaotic little shit and you lived for it. Unless you had to pull them from a problem they caused. Then you didn’t.

But soon you got involved with their shit and completely forgot.

And there you were when they got sucked to hell, hand in hand…

… Also handcuffed but we don’t talk about that-

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍯🍡🍫୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

“AW FUCK-“

“SHITTY TITTES AUGH-“

Both you and MC gripped each other, them screaming and you gritting your teeth with arms around them to protect them.

It took a second for them to stop and you to finally look up.

Before you was a judges seat with eight seats, five of which were filled. Though, a man stood beside the tallest standing seat.

Wait…

Orange, blond, strawberry blond, ravenette, red head - literally, and deep blue to teal?

Oh fuck-

The man in the tallest seat began to speak.

“Welcome to the Devildom MC… and friend?”

Diavolo looked down at the two of you, MC looking confused and you well… you looked uncomfortable but not unknowing.

“We can deal with that in a moment but, pardon my abrupt introduction. Feeling a bit shocked, I’m sure? Well that’s understandable, you’ve only just arrived, after all.”

MC looked around at the men confused and obviously scared while you just sighed with a hand pressed to your forehead. MC tried to stand only to trip back when the cuffs holding you both together. You noticed some of the brothers staring at you two, but you looked away. Diavolo seemed to ignore you both, however.

“As a human, it will probably take a little while for you to adjust to things here in the Devildom.”

“What the fuck is a Devildom-“ MC was cut off by a glare from Lucifer.

“Haha! Calm yourself Lucifer they were just asking a question! Now, before we introduce ourselves, who are you?”

You glanced over at the male and glanced at everyone else. Tugging on your shirt and running your hand through your hair, you finally met Diavolo’s eyes again.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍩🍭🍦୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

“Now I call you dove, you ain’t got any kinda name f’ me?”

You both were sat on a cliff you had just recently found overlooking your home with a great view of the sky and sun, which was setting at the moment. She was sat beside you, head on your shoulder with you both in the grass. A small wind blew through, making your hair wave like a sea of gold. She ran a hand through your hair, you humming at the feeling.

Your easygoing grin made Lilith’s heart melt, but she focused up back on your question after a moment, humming.

“Well… I want it to mean something.” “Dove means somethin’!” Lilith giggled.

“Oh yeah, and what would that be?” “Well you’re an Angel… n’ doves are connected ta Angels n’ stuff…” you groaned after, shoving your face in your hands, causing the Angels laughter to grow.

“Don’t laugh at me! It was cute how you reacted when I first called ya it!” Lilith continued to laugh, you whining and wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling close and placing her head on your chest. Then, you grabbed her face in a huff. You forced her to stare at you as she bit her tongue with blush on her cheeks.

Finally you both broke out into laughter, her falling onto you. You both fell back into the grass giggling. She laid on top of you and you both breathed and took the moment in.

“… I think I have an idea.”

You glanced at her. Wrapping your arms around her waist, you pulled her up and rested your head on top of her hers. She nuzzled into your neck.

“Idea for what, dove?” “A nickname.”

You smiled and looked down at her, causing her to look up.

“Well then get on with it, I’m excited as a cow to a good wooden post.” “A what… to a what?” “Heh, nothin’ dove.”

She smiled and snuggled into you.

“I think you deserve your own name. Not what they call you up there. Something like…”

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🎂🍩🍯୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

You stared Diavolo in the eyes, and smiled somberly.

“…(y/n).”