#can i tag the guys...even if it's just their hands...

[justslightlymental]

"All of them goddamn" - Saja Boys x Reader

Yo... This is just pure smut with just slight plot, also shoutout to this person @k45kart for the idea. (sorry if i tagged wrong person) also another person who wanted to be tagged: @eliengoddes

Okay uhh anyways TW or whatever warnings: Smut, gangbang (obviously) 5 demons cmon guys, I MAY HAVE WRITTEN JINUS NAME WRONG SO IM SORRY. Oral sex both receiving, degrading, praising, uhhh p in v, without protection (dont do this if u dont want kids.) Marking, breeding lowkey, demons going out of control. MAYBE SLIGHT DUB CON??? (its very much consensual but my writing style might fart on itself.) I forgot what else. Cringe warning i havent written anything in ages okay - Everything was okay.. Everything was going to be FINE… The fans were happy with our newest song… And the Honmoon was shining brighter than ever, even a tingle of gold flashing across our eyes, we were so close!!! But then Rumi lost her voice, right in the middle of our rehearsal for our live premiere of “Golden”. Before any of us could say anything she asked for 5 minutes and just ran off to god knows where! “Oh my god, what are we gonna do??” Zoey panicked, her arms flailing around. “Calm down Zoey.. It’s going to be fine… just give her some time alright?” Mira placed a hand on her shoulder to calm Zoey down, though I could see through her poker face. “Yeah, like Mira said. Give her some time… surely she will come in time.” I said, a nervous/worried smile across my face. And she never came… The next time we saw her was at our apartment, she looked shaken up. The only thing we could offer in that moment was comfort and that we did. We decided to go out for some dinner. Rumi still didn’t seem like herself, until she finally spoke. “I'm sorry about the show..” “It’s okay.. don’t worry about it!” Zoey smiled, placing a hand on her forearm. “Besides, Bobby will handle it.” I smiled as well, trying to comfort her. And just like that he called us and once we answered we heard loud voices in the background and an out of breath Bobby yelling about how he can’t handle this, so many disappointed fans and the network losing their minds. Mira quickly shut off the phone. “We can just schedule another live show within days. Don’t worry!” “I don't think that's possible… my voice, it's in trouble..” Rumi said, awkwardly. “In trouble?? Then why did you push up the Golden release then?” Mira continued, confused. “My guess is the Honmoon, isn’t that right?” I smiled softly.

“(Name) is right.. The Honmoon.. it flashed gold, we are so close and it's so important!”

After that dinner we were brainstorming how to fix Rumi’s voice quickly. And Zoey had the “best” idea to go get some magical tonics from this one place she had heard of. And after we finally got the tonics and as we came out of the clinic Zoey was rambling on about after getting her voice back we could finally focus back on the important stuff like fans-

“Fans!” Mira whisper shouted as we saw some shadows turning into the alleyway we were in, our disguises were not the best so we tried our best to quickly become more unrecognizable-

Until we saw THEM..

Our eyes went wide as the guys walked our way, they all looked so… handsome so sexy… Rumi was the only one who didn’t look absolutely down bad until she saw the 5th guy with black hair.

Meanwhile I was looking at each and every one of them, I mean yeah some of them looked a bit sexier than others but I guess that’s because they're more my time than the others.. When they passed us I could honestly feel all of their gaze landing on me for just a moment before they continued on their way. What the fuck just happened.

And that is how we met our WORST enemies for the first time. Turned out they were a fucking demon boyband. DEMONS in a boyband yeah that's right! I don't know what crack Gwi-ma was on when he sent them to our world but IT’S WORKING. Though I do have to admit… I wonder what it would feel like if-

I smacked my head against the wall groaning, BAD (Name) BAD!!! Do not think of such unholy thoughts about your enemy, especially DEMONS.

We got suited up in our battle gear and oh my I must admit we are always so fabulous. We knew the boyband who are now better known as the “Saja Boys” would be at this game show tonight, we stood backstage looking at them gulping huge amounts of hot sauce, uh yikes. That’s gonna burn coming out- AANYWAY! Rumi said we should wait for them to come backstage and then jump down and make quick work of them, the perfect surprise attack!

We giggled a bit in anticipation as we took our spot over the stage, looking down at them. Little did we know the Jinu guy had noticed us and just as he took the mic talking about “special guests” joining us the lights turned to us at the same time he announced our name. We quickly hid our weapons and forced huge smiles on our faces.

“Yeahh! Hello everyone! We just wanted to yknow congratulate the Saja boys for their successful debut!” Rumi said with forced enthusiasm And after that the game show host and saja boys themselves said we should all slide down into the ballpit, the audience got in on it too so of course we had to oblige, though the leather we wore really made it… awkward to say, the noise was horrible too. Once we finally made it into the ballpit everyone still cheered and now it would be the time to end the show, both us and the Saja boys bowed to each other in fake gratitude and respect as the curtains closed. However once we were finally out of the publics eye they ran off within seconds and we almost had no idea where, but we managed to be able to track them down, to a fucking bathhouse. We had no choice but to go in and it was thankfully empty, and there they stood. “You really followed us here? The men's portion? You guys really are thirsty huh.” Jinu chuckled along with his bandmates. Then the demons came out of nowhere from small ruptures, but like there were a lot of them. You couldn’t lose focus for even a second and if you did it might be game over. At one point my eyes landed on Jinu who just smirked “Have fun you four.” He said as he ran off with everyone else. I looked behind me to see Mira, Zoey and Rumi in a deep fight, they seemed to be taking care of everything fine though, so I took off running after Jinu. I jumped into the air ready to slash him but he managed to dodge my blows one after another, until I finally managed to kick him in the stomach. We landed in a secluded room, it seemed to be a small sauna, the heat made both of our bodies sweaty, yuck disgusting. Finally I managed to corner him, my (weapon’s) handle against his throat as he tried to push me off. The adrenaline was flowing through me, maybe that’s why I felt extra strong right now. “Hah.. you’re a bit stronger… But not strong enough for all of us…” Jinu chuckled. That had me confused, until I could sense the presence of four other people behind us. My eyes widened and my throat closed up on itself. I couldn’t move, I don’t know if I was sweating from the heat or from the fact 5 extremely attractive demon guys were currently alone with me. Jinu quickly took advantage of my shock and pushed me away, I landed on my back, gasping for air. It hurt a little bit but nothing could compare to the sight after I opened my eyes groaning. “There you are… Sorry about the push, hopefully you're not too hurt darling.” Jinu smirked, his eyes glowing a little bit. “G-Get away from me!” I struggled, quickly standing up and forming my weapon once again, surrounded by them.

“Still got a fighting spirit huh? We like that… But don’t think we haven’t seen the way you look at us.. And honestly the feelings are mutual.” Jinu smirked, his fingers slightly grazing my cheek. I was speechless, I felt so small surrounded by them. I could feel their eyes roam my body, taking in every curve and shape. My knees were growing weak, I could feel my body reacting in ways I haven’t felt in awhile. I felt embarrassed, my cheeks flushing a deep red as I tried to not look at any of them. I felt a hand on my shoulder making me flinch. “Calm down bunny.. I won’t hurt you.. too bad.” A deep voice whispered into my ear, I turned around quickly seeing the guy named “Abs”. (bit of a silly name tbh…) ANYWAY “D-don’t-” I struggled to form words until a hand covered my mouth, it was Juni. “Yeah, you’re right… No one has to speak…” He smirked, his other hand slowly going down from my shoulder towards my chest. My eyes widened, I should be struggling, I should be fighting them… But for some reason I wanted this, I wanted them all… I felt myself growing more hot and bothered by the second. The 8 pair of eyes watching Jinu’s every movement, and my reaction. It turned me on so bad. And I swear to god I feel like they could sense my need, with the way their eyes seemed to sharpen with lust. “What do you want…” Jinu asked, uncovering my mouth. “I-I want you… I want you all..” My words were quiet, but that didn’t seem to bother them. It was like a trigger, they had my consent and they wouldn’t back away now. Juni fell back towards one of the seats with me landing on his lap. I moaned out as I felt my ass on his crotch, and he was hard. His knees separating mine as I was exposed to the other guys, not completely nude.. yet. I didn’t even care about how fucked out I already looked, all I cared about was getting that sweet release. “Someone’s impatient hm?” Jinu whispered before his lips attacked my neck, his sharp teeth grazing my skin. I whimpered, it felt so good. The other guys had come closer as well, Romance sitting down on my right side and Mystery on my left. Both of their hands found their way to my chest, feeling me up through my suit. Who knew it felt this fucking good to be touched by like 5 guys at the same time. Oh god I feel like a whore, but honestly i'm a proud hoe rn! 

Abs crouched down between my legs, Baby standing behind him as he preferred to just watch, knowing he would get his turn soon. “I think this suit needs to come off, right boys?” Abs smirked, his hands caressing my inner thighs. “You’re right, I can’t wait to see what you’re hiding under here…” Romance sighed happily, Mystery just nodding along, not really a man of words I see. Their hands turned into a soft purple hue, their nails growing in size as they made quick work of ripping my suit into shreds. I tried to cover myself up but Jinu was quick to grasp both my arms and lock them behind my back. “Don’t cover yourself darling… You wanted this right? To be taken and used by all of us.. you truly have no shame, do you?” He talked softly while Mystery and Romance both leaned down to take one of my tits into their mouths. All i could do was moan through his little speech, my core was on fire, growing wetter by the second. I don’t know if the heat made everything feel 10x better but I was enjoying this. I enjoyed the feeling of being exposed to their hungry eyes, I loved the way their mouths sucked on my tits, the way their tongues swirled around my nipples. My body arched into Juni’s body, my thighs trying to squeeze together to create some sort of friction. Abs was quick to separate my legs to get full access to my core. I did feel slightly embarrassed with his staring but that quickly dissolved as he just dove in like a starved man. His tongue swirling around my clit, making my hips buckle. His movements were precise, taking slow licks up my slit, before sucking on my clit against, his right hand closing in. Fingers painfully close to my opening. I moaned out loudly, begging for him to touch me, to feel his fingers inside. I guess he felt merciful because that’s exactly what he did. I was wet enough to fit 2 of his fingers with no problem, his long slender fingers curling up inside me. It didn’t take long for abs to find that special spot inside me that made my whole body seize. I could barely let out any noise, so over-stimulated, with Juni’s mouth on my neck, Mystery’s and Romance’s mouths on my buds, their hands cressing my stomach and sides. My eyes opened just slightly, the first thing I saw was Baby standing behind Abs, his hand slightly rubbing over his jeans, his eyes seductive as he stared down at me. I felt even more hot knowing the fact he was still enjoying himself, just staring. But I couldn’t think about him for long with the way Abs fingers thrusted deep into me and his tongue on my clit, it was enough to bring me dangerously close to climax. I yelped loudly, hips shaking. “I-Im so close- Please- Let me-” I gasped out, pushing my hips towards his mouth, needing him as close as I could have. “Greedy this one isn’t she?” Baby spoke up for the first time, enjoying watching how his bandmates brought (Name) to the edge of pleasure. “She is so intoxicating… Her scent… I wonder if she tastes just as good.” Jinu said, eyeing down at Abs, slightly jealous of how he was the first one to taste her. With the last curl of his tongue she came undone, her head thrown back in pleasure. Romance and Mystery separated from her breasts, looking down at the mess Abs created. All of them felt their senses heightened up, pupils dilating after smelling her. Their bodies fight against turning into their demon forms. Juni stood up with (name) still in his arms, turning around and setting her against the seat. She was still struggling with getting air into her lungs, slowly coming around from that intense climax. “I think we are all a bit too clothed for this next part.” Romance said smugly, his clawed hands already working on removing his shirt. “She might pass out after seeing what’s coming for her.” Mystery said quietly, following Romance’s lead. “She’s gonna pass out no matter what after we’re done with her.” Jinu grinned. 

(Name) slowly shook her head, coming back to reality, her eyes opening. In Front of her was the shock of her life, she yelled out. All five of them, completely bare, the marks on their bodies glowing ever so often, and oh my god even their dicks had the same marks. Also talking about dicks they were all so different.. Some of them had more girth, others length, already dripping with pre-cum. She felt like she was under some sort of spell as she slowly moved off the seat onto the heated up floor, sitting on her knees, hands traveling up Jinu’s legs and thighs. She looked up at him through her lashes, she looked absolutely ravishing, hair messy, some of it sticking to her forehead, her expression flushed, so full of need. Jinu’s breath hitched as his clawed hand took hold of her hair, bringing her face closer to his cock. “Open wide baby.” He instructed. And she did, her tongue rolled out as the tip landed on it. She could already taste the saltiness of his precum, so delicious. Her mouth closed in on it as her tongue rolled around the sensitive tip. He groaned out while thrusting deeper into her mouth. “Fuck.. Her mouth feels so good- I could get addicted to this.” He moaned out, fangs growing out. “Oh you’re making it sound a little too good. I want some.” Baby chuckled, pushing Jinu out of the way. Taking his place. “Hey! Wait for your turn you fucking moron-” Jinu cussed but decided to let him have his moment, instead just jerking himself off at the sight of her being used by them. (Name) whined at the loss of Jinu’s cock but was soon satisfied again after Baby pushed himself into her warm mouth. His dick was a bit shorter than Jinu’s but the girth was amazing, and like he wasn’t SMALL in any way. Actually none of them were. “Oh shit- You’re right- h-hell.” He whimpered. (Name) looked at the other men who were touching themselves, she didn’t want them feeling left out. She took hold of Abs and Mystery’s dicks, moving her hands up and down. Both of them instinctively reacted and thrusted into her hold. Mystery’s cock was long.. And Abs was just… oh yeah he was the big boy of the group definitely. 

“What a good girl…” Romance smiled, looking down at her. “S-shit.. I-I’m close-” Baby gasped out, his thrusts becoming faster, abusing the back of her throat. She was loving the treatment, even if it was harder to breathe. Her cheeks hollowed out completely, feeling every curve of his veins. “Fuck!” He yelled out as his hips stilled, spilling his load down her throat and she drank up every drop. “Look at that! Drank up everything, what a good slut.” Jinu smirked. Abs and Mystery both were moaning messes as their muscles tensed, her hands working magic on them. She didn’t take long to recover as her mouth went closer to Romance’s cock, taking the tip into her mouth, swirling her tongue just like she did with Jinu. This made the poor guy let out broken whimpers, his legs almost giving out from the sudden sensitivity. Jinu had walked behind her, crouching down, his hand traveling down her stomach towards her cunt. Fingers slowly circling her clit, making her eyes roll back into her head. She separated from Mystery’s cock and turned her head towards Abs’s dick, giving him the same treatment with slight difficulty due to the size difference. It didn’t take long for Mystery to cum onto her hand and arm, and the other to separate from her mouth, spilling his cum all over her chest. “You enjoy being marked by all of us huh?” Romance asked, tilting her head up towards him. “Y-yeah… I-I love it, I want more, please.” She begged, out of breath, whimpering due to Jinu still touching her. “Hah.. I wonder what your huntrix friends would say if they saw you like this.” Abs smiled, his finger stroking her chin. “I-I don’t care… I just want you all.. please. Help me.” She moaned out, getting on all fours. “Well look at that- So submissive.. so perfect.” Jinu said, eyes slightly wide not expecting that. But who was he to complain or deny her. His hands landed on her waist, the tip of his cock just against her slit. Moving his hips up and down just teasing her opening. Though even if she wanted to tease her more, his own self control was slowly withering away. So with the help of his hand he finally sank into her pussy. The feeling was euphoric, both of them immediately letting out strained moans. Her walls gripped him like no tomorrow, so wet, so tight. “Oh.. oh my god- S-Shit- I-I can’t-” He choked on his words, losing himself to his desires. While she was getting absolutely fucked from behind Romance took his spot in front of her mouth, getting on his knees, taking hold of her chin. With a quick ‘open up’ His cock was deep in her throat. She had never felt such pleasure before, seeing the men who just came on her already hardened up and ready to each get a turn with her, it was so sexy. Her body was being rocked back and forth, Jinu’s thrusts growing faster, the sounds of skin clapping together loud. His dick kept hitting that sweet spot in her, she had never felt this full before. All of her whimpers and moans just turned into vibrations against Romance’s cock who could feel himself very close to cumming. Both men reached their climaxes at the same time, spilling deep inside her, not caring about pulling out. The feeling of Jinu’s hot cum inside her was enough to push her over the age as well. Their juices mixed together. As he pulled out her hole leaked, making her thighs sticky and warm. “Help her up guys.” Abs smirked, him and Baby lifting her up from the ground. Her legs could not hold her weight, she was completely at their mercy. She was still so high from her recent orgasm she couldn’t form any words. Though she could feel her right leg being lifted over someone's shoulder. Thankfully she was very flexible. She could feel someone's hands squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples, making her suck in air. 

She then felt someone's cock lined up with her entrance again, it felt huge… She could almost guess that- Before her thoughts could finish she saw pure white. Abs slammed himself in her, her pussy clenching around him like no tomorrow. He grunted loudly, his other hand holding the leg on his shoulder and the other on her waist. She whimpered and moaned with every thrust, his dick easily smacked against her cervix, his pelvis hitting her clit with every thrust. “O-oh- Oh my- Shiiiit-” She shook her head, trying to get away from his harsh treatment, it felt too good. She was too sensitive. “P-Please- Ah- Slower- No-” Her hands were pulled behind her, making her body arch in an awkward angle. His mouth quickly over hers, shutting her up. “Shit man- This pussy is amazing! Ah- I don’t know how long I can hold my form back-” Abs grunted, his marks glowing brighter, same with the others. “Right?! She is so intoxicating, I want to taste her soul… Ahg-” Romance inhaled her scent, his tongue licking her neck. “Do you think she could take two at the same time?” Mystery asked with an evil smile. “She definitely could… go for it… break her for good, that’s what she wants anyway.” Jinu laughed. Mystery went behind her, as the others gave him space. Abs slowed down for just a moment, both of the men looking at each other with a sly smile. Mystery lined up his dick right next to Abs and sunk in. She let out a loud yell, the pain… It was delicious. It was good, she had never been this full, never this turned on. “Oh my god look at that! She took it with no problem!” Baby and Jinu both laughed out loud. Both Abs and Mystery now worked together, creating an odd rhythm but it worked. When one went in the other went out. All of her spots being hit continuously was too much, she felt weird, something she had never felt before. “A- Im cuming- Im cuming-” She repeated before her cunt clenched hard around the two men who also just about got pushed over the edge, painting her walls white. The pressure was too much as she squirted out right onto Abs’s abdomen. Both of them retreated from her warmth, leaving her disappointed, she was obsessed, she needed more.

“You still want more? What a slut you are… oh god-” Jinu said, sweating from holding himself back. “I want more of her.. I need more of her.” Romance said. He was the first one whose self control cracked as his body turned purple, his demon side in full show. He basically snatched her out of Abs and Mystery’s hold, bending her over one of the seats, slamming himself right on into her. She yelled out, legs shaking her body rocking back and forth against the wooden surface. His thrusts didn’t falter, hand pushing down her back, keeping her down. It was inhuman how fast he could move against her, making her unable to understand shit. She was completely fucked out. The other guys were staring at their bandmate losing himself, and the way she was completely bare, completely at their mercy for them to destroy finally seemed to snap any of their self restraint. Baby was the second one who snapped, he jumped towards Romance pulling him out before he could finish his peak, pulling (Name) from the seat, placing her on her back, inserting himself into her. Immediately hitting her sweet spot causing her to cum right then and there. Poor Baby had been edged for so long that when her pussy clenched around him deliciously he just came deep into her, but that didn’t mean his cock didn’t get hard again immediately. “Out of the way, I want this pussy again.” Jinu pulled him off, his form also now changed. “Ah- J-Jinu- SO sensitive- Wait-” Though her pleas fell into deaf ears as some sat in front of her pressing her face into their dick. It was Mystery. She didn’t waste time giving him access, still tasting all of their cum on his cock, tongue swirling around him, savoring the taste. Abs and Romance kissed along her body, occasionally sucking and biting, leaving very visible marks on her. Jinus dick was smacking into her hard and rough, chasing only his own pleasure, he was indeed a selfish man. But even if he wasn’t looking out for her that doesn’t mean his thrusts weren’t painfully pleasurable. Every thrust felt like pure torture, her clit was so sensitive even the slightest touch had her body seizing up. Her eyes watering up from everything happening, make up becoming ruined. Jinu’s clawed hands sank into her waist, drawing the smallest amounts of blood. His grunts loud as he came into her for the second time. Mystery separated from her mouth after feeling himself cumming, ropes of his cum going onto her face, messing up her make up even more. All of them looked down at her on the floor, her poor pussy completely messed up and leaking, her face ruined, hair messy, body full of marks. All of their dicks got even harder, it's like she was their own aphrodisiac. 

“How do you feel?” Jinu sighed, his eyes dark with lust. “Mmmh-” She couldn’t say anything else, her legs twitching. “Fuck she looks so delicious like this…” Baby groaned, itching to sink deep into her again. “Can’t we just bring her with us? Our own personal cock sleeve.” Romance sighed dreamingly. She opened her eyes slightly, slowly coming to her senses, everything hurt, but it was so worth it. Her hands roaming through her body feeling the sticky cum and the marks they had given her just a moment ago. “Please…” She whimpered. “Aw you poor thing… We fucked you so good you can’t think about anything else now can you?” Abs smirked next to Jinu. Just as Jinu was about to go in for a kiss he heard distant yells, it sounded like her voice was being yelled out. He stood up looking at his bandmates and nodding at them, they all turned into pink smoke, disappearing from sight. “Sorry to cut this short… and not being able to take care of you more… But your friends are coming, and I don't think you wanna be seen like this…” He chuckled, snapping his fingers as the pink smoke surrounded them both, suddenly her clothes were back in one piece and he was completely dressed up. “I recommend you just tell them you got beat and somehow left alive… you figure it out… But don’t worry, we’ll see you real soon…” He gave her a kiss before disappearing. And right on time too. “Oh my god there you are!! Are you okay? Are you hurt?!” The girls bursted into the room, looking at all the messed up seats that just looked broken and then staring at her messed up hair.

“I-Im fine… Really- Ahg-” She groaned still not being able to stand properly or even realise what the fuck just happened. “We need to get you home!” “Don’t ever run off like that!!” The entire journey home she was scolded but all she could think about was Jinu and his final words. And overall the fucking gangbang she just went through… THE BEST sex she had ever had, honestly. She looked out of her window after finally being left alone by the girls and could feel herself growing wet again, not being able to forget how their touch felt and how their cocks felt inside her. Oh yeah she was definitely waiting for the next time. - thanks guys i did my duty

[cbeargyu]

just a bet for you [2]

summary: you fall for him, deeply, blindly. you give him everything—including your first time. but when he confesses it was all part of a bet, your world collapses. months later, he realizes too late that his feelings were real. but now, you’ve moved on, and when he tries to reach you, you make it clear: he doesn’t get a second chance.

pairing: heesung x fem!reader

genre: high school au, angst, heartbreak, slow burn, betrayal, one-sided love, emotional fallout.

warnings: emotional manipulation, virginity loss, betrayal for a bet, mentions of bullying, intense emotional scenes, crying, self-worth issues, explicit heartbreak, mention of physical intimacy, slap scene, heavy angst, no happy ending.

wc: 4,3k

notes: hi!!🩷 thank you so, so much for all the love the first part of this story received, it honestly made me so happy to see the response :D! you guys make me really happy, i love you all so much. stay tuned because i’ll be posting the other two heesung stories i promised you soon <3 also, if you want to be added to the taglists for upcoming fics, feel free to fill out this form! you can specify which groups or idols you’d like to be tagged in, it would help me stay a bit more organized 🫶🏻

PART 1 HERE.

taglist: @rikiholic @jjongsies @heelovesmeknot @imzhouxinyu @firstclassjaylee @xoxobooksstuff @bbokaricentral @bonsaijoons @ily6968 @annnna1234 @lavxndxrsworld @titttuaf @ball-312 @yujinsbabyi @guppiechuu @mymentalityprince @g3n3v13v33 @pjselee @lovetia @ikeulims @skzenhalove @kukkurookkoo @leechqnsgirl @wonniejamz @lookmaxxxomg @meowmeowjang @yeahhhhsuperhumannn @hyuukas @aheewonenthusiast @lilyofthevalley6 @fabulousarepo4 @zhenyaf1z @antisocialties @deezbin @princesspeachicedtea @heeseungissm

you didn’t go to school for two weeks after it happened.

at first, you told your parents you were just tired. that maybe you were coming down with something. that your body ached. and it was true, in a way—your body did ache, but not from any illness they’d understand. the ache sat deep in your chest, in your lungs, in the pit of your stomach. it made it hard to breathe, hard to eat, hard to sleep without waking up in tears.

you cried until your throat burned. until your pillow was soaked. until your fingers curled into your sheets in the middle of the night, wishing you could claw him out of your memory. you kept replaying it over and over again—how he held you, how he kissed your forehead, how gently he moved inside you, how he fed you soup and looked at you like you were made of glass. and then how he broke you in the same room he touched you like you mattered.

you didn’t understand.

you couldn’t understand.

someone who loved with actions—who tied your shoelaces when they came undone, who waited at the gate after school, who sat in silence with you in the library just to be near you—how could that all be a lie? how could someone fake the way his thumb brushed over your hand while you solved equations, or the way he held you like the world outside your bedroom didn’t exist?

you told yourself there had to be something real in it. maybe not all of it. but something. he couldn't have done all that just for a bet… right?

but while you cried yourself sick, the others were laughing.

heesung and his friends—jay, sunghoon, the others who had always hovered around like shadows—were joking about it in the cafeteria. about how you’d fallen hard. about how easy it had been. jay even said he didn’t think you’d go through with it. sunghoon just laughed and said, “i guess love makes girls blind.”

and heesung?

he laughed too.

smirked and said, “i told you. i knew she’d give in. i know her type.”

and maybe something in him tightened when he said it. maybe something in his chest flickered, sharp and bitter. but no one noticed—not even him. because in front of his friends, his pride had to survive. so he played along. like you had meant nothing. like none of it had mattered.

and yet… when you came back, everything changed.

you walked into school two weeks later with your head held a little higher. your eyes were tired, but they didn’t tremble anymore. your uniform was the same, your hair was the same, but there was something different about the way you carried yourself. you smiled at your teacher when she welcomed you back. you answered roll call like nothing was wrong. when people whispered in the halls, you didn’t flinch.

you told everyone your parents had taken you out of town to visit your grandmother. “we didn’t plan it,” you said easily. “they just made the decision last minute. no signal where we were.”

you sat in class like normal. you took notes. you even hummed quietly during break.

and people noticed.

not in the cliché, dramatic way. not like you suddenly became the “hot girl.” it was quieter than that. it was in the way people looked twice when you walked by. the way they hesitated before talking about you. the way they no longer saw you as invisible, but as something they couldn’t quite define.

and heesung noticed too.

he saw the way your posture had changed. the way you didn’t glance around nervously anymore. the way you answered questions with confidence, how you laughed with classmates you never used to talk to. something about your presence was louder now, even if your voice wasn’t.

and for the first time since he left your house, he started remembering.

he remembered how your hands shook when you first held his. how your eyes lit up when he brought you strawberries one afternoon because you mentioned liking them in passing. how he watched you sleep once, and something inside him clenched in a way he didn’t understand back then.

he told himself it was all an act. that he was just playing the part. that every kind gesture, every glance, every soft breath against your skin was planned.

but not all of it was.

some things just... happened. some moments weren’t rehearsed. and now, watching you from across the room, something sharp curled beneath his ribs.

regret.

and that feeling only deepened when, one afternoon, you were walking past the lockers and someone called your name.

“y/n!”

you turned, blinking, and found a boy you didn’t recognize very well—jake, from class 1-b. tall, warm smile, honey-brown hair. he jogged over with a little out-of-breath laugh.

“you dropped this earlier in the hallway,” he said, holding out your pen.

you blinked at it, surprised. “oh… thank you. i didn’t even notice.”

“yeah,” he grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “figured you’d want it back. it’s cute. the little star charm’s cool.”

you laughed, a small, real sound. “it was a gift. from myself.”

he laughed with you. “solid choice.”

he walked with you to class that day. not flirtatious. just easy. light.

and heesung saw it all from the other end of the hall—your laugh, your comfort, the way jake looked at you like you were bright and new.

and something in his stomach twisted.

for the first time, he wasn’t part of your world.

he had no place there anymore.

and maybe—just maybe—that was the part that hurt the most.

heesung didn’t notice it all at once.

at first, it was just a quiet discomfort. something small. like the subtle ache of a bruise you forgot was there until someone brushed against it. a flicker in his chest that he ignored. a hollow feeling he pushed down with laughter and noise.

he told himself he didn’t care. that he had won. that it was just a bet and he had gotten what he wanted. his friends kept saying it, too—how easy it was, how good the payoff had been, how funny it was that you actually cried.

but every time they said your name like it was a joke, something in him tensed.

still, he smiled.

still, he laughed.

because that’s what he was supposed to do.

until you came back.

you walked into school like someone who had been rebuilt. not louder, not flashier, not dressed any different—but something in you had changed. you didn’t slouch anymore. you didn’t stare at the floor when people passed. your steps were quieter, but more certain. like you didn’t need to be noticed to be seen.

and worse—you didn’t look at him.

not once.

not even when your eyes passed over his. you looked right through him. like he wasn’t there. like the boy you gave yourself to had died and become someone you didn’t recognize anymore. it was the first time he realized you could move on. that maybe he hadn’t broken you the way he thought he did.

and that’s when it started.

the ache.

every day after that, it grew heavier. he tried to ignore it—he flirted with other girls in the hallway, he laughed louder than necessary, he stayed out late. but none of it filled the space you left behind. the silence of your absence followed him everywhere, curling like smoke around his collarbones, pressing against his lungs.

and then came jake.

at first, he didn’t even know the guy’s name. just some quiet boy from a different class—friendly, golden-haired, always polite to teachers. but suddenly, he was sitting beside you during lunch. carrying your books when your arms were full. walking with you to the gate after school. he never touched you too much, never made it look like anything romantic, but it didn’t matter.

heesung saw the way you smiled around him.

not the way you used to smile at heesung—shy and tentative—but brighter. lighter. like you were no longer afraid of breaking.

and worst of all, jake did things heesung used to do.

he tucked your hair behind your ear when the wind blew too hard. he waited for you outside the library, leaning against the wall with both hands in his pockets like it was the most natural thing in the world. he passed you notes in class—not cheesy ones, but simple things like “don’t forget to eat lunch today” or “i hope your morning was kind.”

and every time heesung saw one of those moments unfold, his chest tightened.

because he remembered.

he remembered how you used to look at him like that. how you used to reach for his hand without thinking. how you once whispered “thank you for choosing me” after he kissed your forehead in your room.

he told himself it was all fake. that he had played a role, nothing more.

but some of it hadn’t been fake.

some of it had been instinct.

some of it had been real.

and now it was gone.

sometimes, at night, he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, thinking of the way your voice trembled when you said you were happy your first time had been with him. the way you clung to the blanket when he stood to leave. the way you ran after him, bare feet against the floor, tears already falling—and he didn’t turn around.

he should have turned around.

now you were healing without him.

and he… he was unraveling.

that's why he didn’t expect to see you again that day.

it was just a normal afternoon—at least, that’s what it was supposed to be. the courtyard was half-empty, students trickling out after class in lazy, aimless waves. heesung had been walking with jay and sunghoon, shoulders slouched, backpack hanging loosely from one strap, half-listening to some story jay was telling that didn’t really matter.

he wasn’t paying attention. not until he heard your laugh.

soft. low. the kind of laugh that used to only come out when you were comfortable, when you forgot to be afraid. he froze instinctively—eyes lifting before his mind could stop him.

there you were.

sitting on the edge of a planter box under the tree near the gate, legs crossed at the ankle, your head tilted as you listened to jake say something beside you. he was holding a bottle of water, a backpack slung over one shoulder. he handed it to you, and you took it with a small smile, your fingers brushing his for just a second.

heesung couldn’t hear what you were saying. but you were smiling. you looked healthy. rested. you looked like you hadn’t spent weeks crying over him in the dark. you looked like you’d finally let go of the hand that once shattered you.

and you didn’t look his way—not once.

that was the part that felt the heaviest.

“damn,” jay muttered beside him, loud enough for the others to hear. “she moves on fast.”

sunghoon snorted. “wonder if she cried in jake’s arms, too.”

they laughed. a few other boys chuckled with them. someone else said, “what was her name again? the one you took home? y/n, right?”

heesung didn’t say anything. he kept walking, but his pace slowed.

“maybe she’s just collecting boyfriends now,” jay added with a grin. “first heesung, now jake. who’s next?”

“bet jake has no idea she was begging heesung to stay, crying like a kicked puppy.” sunghoon whistled. “guess jake likes secondhand toys.”

the laughter grew louder. more shameless. more cruel.

heesung stopped walking.

he didn’t say a word. he didn’t laugh. he just stared straight ahead, jaw clenched so tight it ached. his fingers curled tighter around the strap of his backpack, knuckles white.

they were still talking about you like that. like you were nothing more than a punchline. like you hadn’t mattered. like you hadn’t loved him.

and he said nothing.

because saying something would mean stepping out of the mask he’d been wearing this whole time. it would mean breaking the image. it would mean admitting that you weren’t just another girl. that what he did wasn’t just a joke. it would mean facing everything he’d been trying to ignore since the moment he left your house and walked away from the girl who had given him everything.

he told himself it was better this way. that it was cleaner if he stayed silent.

but his silence was starting to rot him from the inside out.

you were still sitting there, unaware. jake stood up, pointing at something in his phone, and you leaned slightly to look. he held the screen closer, and your knees brushed lightly—casual, natural, the kind of touch heesung remembered vividly.

and for a second—just a second—he wished he could go back.

not to change what happened, not to undo it, but to tell you that it hadn’t all been a lie. that not everything had been a game. because when you smiled at him, something inside him had moved. and when you cried, something inside him hadbroken. he just hadn’t known what to do with that feeling. so he buried it. mocked it. pretended it never happened.

and now it was too late.

jay slapped a hand on his shoulder. “what, you mad he’s got her now?”

he didn’t respond.

just shook him off gently, like the touch annoyed him.

because yeah. maybe he was mad.

but not at you. not at jake.

he was mad at himself—for letting go of the only person who ever looked at him like he wasn’t just a name behind a pretty face. for breaking something he didn’t know how to fix. for being too much of a coward to say, “stop,” when they started laughing.

and for still staring at you like you were his, when he gave you every reason to walk away.

he laid on his back, staring at the ceiling like it had answers.

the room was quiet except for the hum of his fan and the soft ticking of the clock on his desk. it was late—past midnight, maybe closer to two—but sleep didn’t come easily anymore. not the kind that left you rested. not the kind that made mornings worth waking up for.

his body was still. but his mind wouldn’t shut up.

he hated how loud your memory was in silence.

he closed his eyes and it came rushing back. the way your fingers curled in his shirt when you kissed him the first time. how you trembled under his touch but still whispered “i want this with you.” how you winced when he entered you, how your nails dug into his back as you cried out, how you smiled, teary and flushed, afterward, whispering “i’m happy it was you.”

he hadn’t meant to remember all of it—but it wouldn’t leave him alone.

the way you used to wait by his locker just to walk home together. the way you brought him tangerines because he said he liked them once. the way you blushed whenever he tucked your hair behind your ear. how you laughed when he teased you softly. how your voice always dropped when you said his name like it meant something more.

he thought he’d buried all of that. he thought forgetting you would be easy.

but nothing about you was forgettable.

he sat up in bed, breathing heavy now, like the air around him had thickened. there was a tension in his chest—an ache that didn’t go away when he rubbed his hands over his face. it stayed there, lodged in his ribs, aching like guilt, like grief, like a question he’d never asked himself until now:

did i love her?

and the silence answered back:

yes.

yes, he did. maybe not from the start. maybe not all at once. but somewhere along the line—between the library books and your gentle voice and the way you looked at him like he was someone worth loving—he had fallen for you.

and now you were gone.

really gone.

not just physically, but emotionally. spiritually. you no longer belonged to his world. you no longer turned at the sound of his name. he could pass you in the hallway and it would be like walking past a ghost.

he hesitated, looking at his phone on the nightstand.

his heart beat faster.

his hand trembled slightly as he reached for it, thumb hovering over your contact. it was still there. he never deleted it. he never even changed your name. just y/n—plain, simple, the way you saved yourself in his phone that first night.

he stared at it for too long.

what do i say?

what could i say?

sorry? i miss you? i didn’t mean it? i was wrong?

they all felt hollow. they all felt too late. but he pressed the call button anyway, like maybe—maybe—you’d still want to hear his voice.

it rang once.

then the screen went black. call declined.

he froze.

his stomach dropped.

he tried again. and this time—

“this number is not available.”

his throat tightened. he tried to breathe through it, but his chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

you had blocked him.

not muted. not ignored. not paused.

blocked. completely. entirely. with finality.

and just like that, it hit him like a blow to the ribs.

she doesn’t want to hear from me. she’s done.

what did he expect?

that you’d pick up in the middle of the night, voice soft and sleepy, still waiting for him? that you’d cry again, say his name, beg for answers? that you’d run into his arms like nothing had happened?

how fucking foolish.

his fingers tightened around the phone, then let it drop beside him with a dull thud.

you weren’t waiting. you weren’t hoping. you weren’t his anymore.

you had walked away. healed. outgrown him.

and he—he had stayed the same. still pretending. still running. still hiding behind silence and laughter and people who didn’t care if he burned.

he laid back down, arm over his eyes, chest hollow.

he wouldn’t call again.

he wouldn’t message.

he wouldn't show up pretending to be brave.

not because he respected your decision—but because he was a coward.

and because facing your rejection now would destroy what little was left of him.

so he let the silence stay.

just like you had.

days had turned into weeks, though heesung wasn’t sure when the shift had occurred. time had begun to bleed together, slow and indistinct, like the blur of water slipping down a window during a storm. everything felt quieter than before, but not in the peaceful way—no, it was the kind of silence that made his skin itch, that wrapped around his lungs and refused to let go, like grief that hadn’t quite finished forming. he still walked the same halls, still sat in the same classrooms, still laughed at the same tired jokes, but the world around him felt distorted, as if nothing was quite where it used to be. and it wasn’t. not really. because you weren’t there anymore—not in the way that counted.

you didn’t look at him anymore. didn’t flinch when you passed each other. you didn’t hesitate, or soften, or seem remotely affected by the empty space he left behind. and maybe that was what finally started to eat at him—not your absence, but your indifference. it was easier when he thought you hated him. hate meant fire. hate meant he still lived somewhere inside you. but now... now you looked through him like he had become translucent, like he no longer held a single thread to your world. and god, it hurt more than he could stand.

he told himself he didn’t care. repeated it like a prayer each night when he stared at the ceiling in his dark room, one arm slung over his eyes to block out everything except his thoughts. but the truth clawed at him like something alive. he remembered everything—your hands in his, the soft pull of your smile, the way your head fit perfectly on his shoulder, how your voice cracked when you said “i’m glad it was you.” he had tried to forget, but it came back in waves, sharp and suffocating. he remembered how you kissed him like he mattered, how you trembled but still trusted him, how your eyes fluttered open afterward, full of something so painfully pure it nearly undid him.

he couldn’t forget. not anymore.

the ache that came with those memories had become unbearable—dense in his chest, heavy in his throat. and when he walked into the chemistry lab that afternoon, all he wanted was to disappear for a little while, to escape the noise of the halls and the suffocating press of guilt that followed him like a shadow. he didn’t expect to see you there.

you were standing near the lockers, facing away from him, your body half-tucked behind the tall cabinet where the beakers and tongs were kept. you moved carefully, methodically, as if each motion served a purpose. your back was straight, your hair pulled out of the way, the sleeves of your uniform rolled just slightly. you looked so calm, so self-contained. you looked nothing like the girl he remembered sobbing under a blanket while he walked away.

he froze. completely.

for a moment, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. he felt like the air had thickened, like he had walked into a memory and it had decided to come alive just to punish him. his gaze locked on you, and as if some invisible string snapped taut between you, you turned.

your eyes met.

and everything around him went still.

his heartbeat stuttered. there was a pressure behind his eyes, behind his ribs, like something raw had clawed its way out of him. and for the briefest second, he thought maybe—maybe—there was something still left. maybe you’d say something, anything.

but then you blinked, cold and calm, and turned away again without a word.

you folded your lab coat neatly, placed it on the stool beside you, and grabbed your bag. you were already halfway to the door when his body reacted before his mind could.

“wait—”

his voice cracked through the silence, rough and desperate.

you paused, fingers on the sliding door, shoulders tense.

“please. y/n… wait.”

he moved toward you, slowly, like every step cost him something. and just before you could open the door, he reached out, fingers brushing your wrist.

you flinched.

your reaction was immediate, electric—your body snapped away like he had burned you. your eyes turned to his, not wide with surprise or hurt, but narrowed with fury and something else—disgust. your voice, when it came, was sharp and low and full of ice.

“don’t touch me.”

he stepped back instinctively, guilt spreading across his face like poison. he lifted his hands slightly, palms open as if to show he meant no harm. but it didn’t matter. it was already too late.

“i just… i need to talk to you,” he said, voice softer now, almost breaking. “please. i know i don’t deserve it. but just let me—”

“you used me.” your voice cut through the room like a blade, and he fell silent instantly. “now you want me to believe you care?” you shook your head, bitter disbelief dripping from every word. “don’t insult me. save your guilt for someone who asked for it.”

he took a shallow breath, but your words didn’t stop.

“you didn’t defend me when they laughed at me.” your tone trembled now—not with weakness, but with pain long held. “you laughed with them.” you stepped forward, eyes gleaming with unshed tears. “so don’t act like you regret it now.”

his lips parted, his throat worked, but nothing came. not until you finally said the last thing he’d been terrified to hear.

“you never loved me, heesung.” your voice cracked, but you didn’t look away. “you loved the way i looked at you.”

that broke him.

he looked down, shoulders heavy, breath unsteady. he wanted to deny it, to explain, to beg—but the truth swelled inside him like a wound finally bursting.

“i did,” he said softly, eyes flicking back to you, desperate. “i did love you. i swear i didn’t know it until after, but—” he choked, biting down the panic that rose in his chest. “yes, it started as a joke. a fucking stupid bet. but it stopped being one the moment you smiled at me like i meant something. when you held my hand, when you kissed me back, when you… when we were in your room, and i held you—”

you slapped him.

hard.

his head jerked slightly to the side, the sting spreading across his cheek like fire.

you were shaking now, but your voice was steady.

“don’t you dare bring that night up.”

your eyes were red, but not from weakness. from rage. from betrayal. from the kind of heartbreak that people don’t walk away from whole.

“you planned it. all of it. you got close to me just to win. you let me fall. you let me love you knowing the whole time you were going to rip me apart. and you did.” your voice rose, thick with tears now spilling freely down your cheeks. “i hate you, heesung. i hate you. leave me alone.”

he opened his mouth, but you were already walking away, grabbing your coat and bag, shoving past him like he wasn’t even there. and this time, he didn’t follow. he didn’t try to stop you. he just stood there, one hand on his cheek, chest collapsing in on itself.

he watched you disappear through the door.

and for the first time, he didn’t just feel regret. he felt loss. real, permanent, irreparable loss.

and he knew.

you would never look at him again.

not even with hate.

because even that… required caring.

and you were done.

[aventurineswife]

Hi there, I know your requests are temporarily closed but I can't get this scenario out of my head. You know that thing that parents with their babies where they lay out items like a ball, a book, sword, etc and what they choose symbolizes what they value most in their life. Can you do that with Aventurine, Jin Yuang (my love 😍), Gepard, Ratio and Blade. But instead of choosing an item, their baby just pushes the stuff to the side and runs towards them 🥺. I wanna see how these guys would react towards their baby basically telling them they will always be their priority. I'm sorry for the long request and the ramble bit I just love your work and I'm a sucker for HSR fics with babies. Thank you so much and even if you don't do this, it's cool. Stay awesome. 😘

“The Only Choice That Mattered”

Tags: Jing Yuan x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Gepard x Reader, Blade x Reader, Soft Domestic Fluff, Found Family, Emotional Wholesomeness, Symbolism, Affectionate Reactions, Comfort and Reassurance, Character Growth Through Parenthood, Domestic AU, Reader is the other parent/partner.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma for some characters (Blade, Aventurine), Emotional vulnerability, Very soft angst-to-fluff in some cases, Mild implied legacy pressure/family expectations (for Jing Yuan, Gepard), Reader not heavily described for inclusivity.

A/N: Thank you so much for your kind words!! And don't worry, it's not that long and I don't mind it either way. <3

The room was quiet, save for the faint rustling of silk robes and the cooing of your baby nestled in the center of the ceremonial mat. A scroll, a miniature sword, a carved beast resembling Snowmoon, and a replica of a strategy board were arranged before them—each item symbolizing a path: wisdom, strength, loyalty, foresight.

Jing Yuan sat beside you, one arm lazily resting on his knee, eyes glowing with a warmth he rarely let others see.

"Let’s see what our little general values most," he murmured, voice soft, but curious.

Your baby studied the items with wide, sparkling eyes… and then, with a wobbly but determined push, shoved everything aside. The carved lion tumbled across the floor.

And then—they stood. Waddled. Rushed.

Straight into Jing Yuan’s arms.

There was a beat of stunned silence.

Then Jing Yuan laughed—a rare, genuine, soul-deep laugh that crinkled his eyes and made your heart ache with affection. He caught the little one mid-waddle, sweeping them up effortlessly.

“So, you choose… me?” he whispered against their soft hair. A pause. Then more to himself: “Of course. You’re the only one who would.”

He glanced at you, eyes shimmering. “They’ve already outwitted me. I came prepared for strategy… and I was defeated by love.”

The room felt heavy with unsaid things. Blade stood silently near the back wall, arms crossed, broken sword glinting faintly under the dim light. Before your baby were solemn relics: a weathered blade, a Stellaron crystal, a book of memory, and a sealed letter—remnants of a life marred by pain, vengeance, and wandering.

The baby sat, blinked, and then—pushed them all away.

The ancient sword clattered to the side. The Stellaron crystal rolled and cracked softly against the wall.

You held your breath.

Tiny footsteps echoed as they made a beeline straight to Blade.

And Blade… froze.

The baby raised their arms, and he knelt instinctively, unsure, as if afraid to break the moment. Their small fingers brushed his bandaged hand, clinging tight.

“You don’t care about what I’ve been,” he rasped. “Only that I’m here.”

He cradled them carefully, as though the weight of love was heavier than his sword.

“They chose the one thing I thought I’d never be,” he said, quietly. “A home.”

The suite sparkled with opulence—gold chips, a tiny set of scales, a miniature IPC insignia, and even a dice-shaped rattle. Aventurine clapped his hands dramatically as the baby was set down.

"Alright, kiddo, place your bet. No pressure, just... your entire symbolic future on the line."

The baby looked at the items. Then at him. A beat passed.

And then—one by one—each item was flicked aside with a casual disregard that mirrored Aventurine’s own flair.

Finally, the baby giggled and toddled toward him, arms up.

He blinked.

"...Huh."

Then, slowly, that dazzling grin curved his lips, but this time it was tinged with something real—something raw.

“They bet on me?” he said, voice huskier than usual.

You nodded, and he swept the baby up, spinning them around, laughter like chimes echoing.

“You’re supposed to bluff, little one,” he whispered against their cheek. “But you went all in. You win.”

The moment was solemn—traditional, even. Gepard had arranged the ceremonial mat with reverence. A tiny Silvermane badge, a music note carved from ice crystal (for Serval), a miniature Belobog crest, and a replica guard shield sat in a perfect line.

Gepard stood at attention, arms behind his back, posture straight even now.

The baby crawled forward.

Paused.

Then gently shoved everything aside—deliberate and slow, like they knew the significance.

They turned.

And crawled straight into his arms.

Gepard knelt immediately, hands trembling as he scooped them up.

“You… chose me?”

You smiled. “Looks like it.”

For once, his perfect composure cracked. His voice was thick. “I always wondered if I was doing enough… If I was worthy of being someone’s home.”

The baby tucked their face into his shoulder. And Gepard held them like they were the most fragile thing in the universe.

“Thank you… for trusting me. I promise, I’ll always protect you.”

The room had been prepped like a philosophical experiment. An old laurel crown, a scroll of theoretical formulas, a replica owl statue, and a tiny library card were arranged for analysis.

Ratio adjusted his spectacles.

“Now then,” he said, eyes sharp. “Let’s see what intellect they gravitate toward.”

The baby squinted at the array of items.

And then, with casual defiance of every controlled variable—threw all the items off the mat and ran straight at him.

Ratio blinked.

“They rejected... all possible indicators of intellectual interest?”

You chuckled.

“They chose you.”

He caught the baby as they barreled into him, holding them stiffly at first—then softer, as their tiny hands touched his face.

“Fascinating,” he murmured. “An emotional conclusion drawn with absolute certainty.”

You sat beside him, watching his expression slowly shift from surprise to something gentler.

“They see you,” you whispered.

His lips twitched.

“And they’ve made the most brilliant deduction of all,” he said, kissing your baby’s forehead. “That love… transcends logic.”

[zerocoded]

summary: your estranged grandmother left you exactly one thing in her will: a sprawling luxury apartment in the heart of seoul — the kind of place that could singlehandedly cover your entire college tuition if you ever decided to sell it. now you had a penthouse all to yourself, a pink-tiled kitchen you weirdly adored, and a hopeless, slow-burning crush on the absurdly attractive neighbor who barely looked your way.

authors note: chapter two is here and i couldn’t be more grateful for all the support i’m getting for this story, i hope we can all enjoy our time here <3 for this one i’d like to clarify that i’m still trying to improve my writing and pacing so pls bear with my anxious ass until i can properly proofread it. anyways, let’s cut the bs and thirst over our confused funny reader and her hot vampire neighbour. PLS, READ THE WARNINGS FOR A SAFE AND COMFORTABLE READING.

warnings and tags: mommy issues • explanation of a cancer treatment (not detailed) • reader was forced to become an adult at thirteen (matilda's vibes) • her dad has cancer • mentions of lab reports, chemotherapy, prescriptions, hospitals • detailed descriptions of fever and sickness symptoms • reader is sick and passes out • THIS IS ANGST, I'M WARNING YOU • but we also got sarcasm and hot neighbors if that makes you feel better • this is so introspective i'm sick • jungwon is fully tatted in this story, i think i should add this • soulmates!au • vampire!au.

word count: 16k.

previous chapters: series masterlist.

the jeonghyeon building was known for its picturesque internal design, even the elevators had decorations.

today, it was pastel ribbons — thin, barely tied things, looped lazily along the edges of the brass railing like an afterthought. 

you didn’t notice them when you were ascending to the rooftop last night. not when your embarrassment was so loud you could hardly breathe. not when you practically fled to the greenhouse after niki barged into your apartment. not when you came back down much later, heart racing, pupils blown, mouth dry.

not when your concern for your hot neighbor — because that’s all he was supposed to be — soured into something heavier. something quieter. something that curled low in your stomach and refused to leave.

sunghoon was a complex character. that much you'd noticed the very first time you saw him — standing in front of your door, black coat, mail in hand, giving you the kind of silent nod that felt like it had punctuation. he didn’t bother with small talk. didn’t seem interested in charming anyone. he was cute. quiet. mysterious in that brooding, emotionally unavailable way you hated admitting you were into.

but after last night... he became something else entirely.

not just a guy with good cheekbones and strange eyes. not just your weird, hot neighbor with an allergy to speaking.

something had shifted. and not in a fun “i think we had a moment” kind of way. more like a “maybe i was one minute away from being a missing person” kind of way.

and you weren’t saying he was dangerous. you were just saying… if this were a movie, and you disappeared mysteriously next week, he would be the first suspect. and the internet would agree.

at first, you thought maybe sunghoon was just allergic to something — you didn’t know, maybe air. maybe there was a weird flower up there in the greenhouse and he was reacting to it. you genuinely wondered, for one disoriented second, if he needed an epipen.

then you realized he wasn’t having an allergic reaction to the environment. he was having one to you.

and that’s when the alarms started going off.

because it wasn’t just weird. it was canonically weird. the kind of weird that didn’t fit into real-world logic. not just him — the whole thing. this building. his roommates. the greenhouse that felt like it shouldn’t exist on a rooftop, but somehow did.

the moment you saw his eyes — blown wide, pupils dilated like he’d just been drugged or bitten or both — you knew something was happening. and it was serious.

he couldn’t breathe right. he kept making these awful, strangled movements — like he was trying to swallow something back and failing. and then came the gulping. the salivating.

so much saliva.

you weren’t a doctor — hell, you hadn’t even passed your college entrance exams yet — but you knew what a medical emergency looked like. and that? that wasn’t that.

that wasn’t a panic attack. that wasn’t low blood sugar. that was something that didn’t belong to a normal person. and he had looked right at you while it happened.

so your thoughts, as you waited for the elevator door to open — so you could escape and hide in your apartment for the rest of the night because he begged you to leave him alone — were something like:

did i fuck up by moving here?

are they criminals? 

omg, what if they’re human traffickers?

what if this is actually a cult and they’re looking for their next victim?

you weren’t being dramatic. you were being logical. or at least that’s what you told yourself as you stared at your blurry reflection in the elevator panel, trying not to have a full-blown breakdown while descending back to your floor.

you chalked it up to adrenaline. or hormones. or the silent, creeping onset of a stress-induced stroke. because how else were you supposed to explain the fact that your limbs were shaky, your stomach twisted in knots, and your mouth — for some reason — kept watering like you were watching someone eat cake on tv? 

as you were inside that elevator, your head was spinning, your legs felt like someone had unplugged them mid-walk, and your skin was so oversensitive that even the elevator air felt too loud. it wasn’t fear. not exactly. it was something stranger. heavier. like your entire body was reacting to something your brain hadn’t caught up to yet.

the worst part was that, when the elevator finally opened and you stepped onto your floor, niki was there. again.

of course, again.

just standing in the hallway like a casually summoned demon. hands in his pockets, party attire perfectly unbothered, like he’d walked straight out of a hongdae fashion editorial titled ‘trouble but make it cute.’

you blinked at him. or — at least, you thought you did. hard to tell. it felt less like a voluntary movement and more like your body was running on lag, processing commands with a half-second delay. even your eyelids weren’t cooperating anymore.

he blinked back, completely unfazed. like finding you half-frozen in front of the elevator, breathing like a hunted animal, was just another tuesday night.

but this wasn’t a tuesday night — this was a friday night where you were supposed to have finished your college entrance essay four hours ago and kept things lowkey inside your pastel-colored apartment, eating dry cereal and pretending to be emotionally stable.

instead, you looked like you’d just seen a ghost. or worse — a really hot hallucination in a greenhouse that almost gave you a cardiac event. your hoodie was slightly damp from stress-sweat, your slippers were mismatched, and your mouth was still parted in that half-shocked, half-“please don’t let me die in a designer building” kind of way.

niki tilted his head, one brow barely lifting, like he was trying to place a scent or decode your entire existence using only his nostrils. the hallway lighting buzzed faintly above you, casting him in soft gold and you in fluorescent anxiety.

“you good?” he asked, nose twitching — subtle, but just enough to make you feel like he’d caught something in the air. something off. something you.

his small reaction made your stomach tighten, though you couldn’t explain why. embarrassment bloomed in your chest — sharp, involuntary — and you weren’t even sure what you were embarrassed about. the greenhouse? sunghoon? your face? the fact that your body still felt hijacked by a panic you didn’t understand?

you smoothed your face into what you hoped was neutral indifference. why? because you did not want to become a part of whatever cult these boys were running. you didn’t want to incriminate sunghoon in front of his possible accomplice before even knowing if they were a team or not. “yeah. totally. why?”

“just asking,” he said, tone too light — like a cat batting at a dying bug. “you look weird. smell off”

“oh, wow, thanks.” you did feel weird. but you weren’t about to unpack your almost-panic attack with your stupidly dressed neighbor while standing in a haunted hallway.

at midnight, mind you.

“you’re welcome.”

you sighed, already unlocking your door, ready to bolt inside in case sunghoon showed up with a knife. or a sword. at this point, you weren’t ruling anything out.

“what do you want, niki? it’s late as fuck.”

he shrugged. “i was asking if you wanted to come to this party with me.”

you turned to him. stared.

“niki, i’m not going to a party with you at midnight.”

he raised an eyebrow. “why not?”

“because we’re not that close, okay? and it’s fucking midnight, i need to finish this stupid essay and i need to sleep and walk my frog, whatever suits you.”

niki blinked. “you have a frog?”

“no, niki. i do not have a frog.”

he nodded slowly, like you’d just confirmed a suspicion.

“so you’re not coming to the party,” he said flatly — like your face wasn’t still flushed with nerves, like you hadn’t just come down from a near the vampire diaries death episode. 

“no, niki. i’m not.”

“shame.” he didn’t pout. didn’t try to convince you. just accepted your answer like it was weather. like you were a passing cloud.

then he turned. walked off.

you watched him disappear down the corridor, steps light, hands still buried in his pockets. you kept staring until his figure was swallowed by the metal of the elevator. the doors closed with a soft ding.

and then you frowned. cursed under your breath.

what a fucking weird set of neighbors you’d managed to pull.

because what kind of approach was that? what kind of person — someone who had the audacity to call himself your friend — invited you to a party and then just... gave up. no convincing. no teasing. like the second he saw your clothes, your freezing cheeks, your wide eyes, he decided it wasn’t worth the effort. like he already knew your answer.

or worse — like you weren’t the one deciding at all.

you let your thoughts about niki slip away the second you glanced into your apartment.

inside your apartment, the first thing you did was lock everything. the front door, the balcony latch, the windows — even the sliding one in the bathroom that barely opened. then you cleaned, because what else could you do? it was either that or scream into a pillow, and your neighbors already thought you were weird. 

so you tossed the half-bitten cookies niki had tasted earlier, like his saliva could infect your air or something. you washed the coffee machine you still hadn’t figured out how to use without flooding the counter. you folded your laundry into uneven stacks and told yourself you’d wash them properly in the morning. everything was done with a kind of desperate, mechanical precision — as if moving fast enough might stop your thoughts from catching up.

you were trying to return to normal. to do human things. to signal to your own body that there was no threat. but even after hours had passed — after the rooftop, after the greenhouse, after sunghoon’s eyes and niki’s nose twitch and whatever the hell had happened up there — your chest still felt tight. your blood pressure was high enough to make your ears ring. your fingers twitched when you paused too long. your heart, traitorous as ever, kept hammering like it knew something you didn’t.

eventually, your body gave out before your brain could. you laid down without brushing your teeth, without washing your face, without checking your phone. just collapsed into bed fully clothed, limbs aching like you’d run a marathon, mind buzzing like a dying lightbulb.

——

living in seoul city for five weeks now had been less like a teenage dream and more like a young adult nightmare. it’d only been a little more than a month, and you were already regretting changing your emergency contact to someone who once got lost inside a daiso for four hours and blamed capitalism (niki).

the whole move was supposed to be a fresh start — a quiet little apartment, a somewhat normal routine, a chance to reinvent yourself as someone who didn’t spiral every time a stranger looked at you too long. but after the greenhouse incident, you hadn’t reinvented anything except your ability to dissociate on command.

you hadn’t seen sunghoon since that night. not even once. not in the elevator, not in the hallway, not in the weirdly lavish mailroom with gold-trimmed cubbies. even niki had stopped popping up uninvited like a cursed genie in high-top sneakers. radio silence. total blackout.

at first, you assumed it was guilt. or maybe they'd gone out of town for one of those mysterious rich-people getaways where everyone pretends to hike and secretly joins a cult. then, after a few days, you started wondering if you'd hallucinated the whole thing. the greenhouse, the pupils, the gulping. maybe it was just a panic attack — one of those real dramatic ones your body pulls when your serotonin hits zero and your caffeine intake is at god-tier levels.

you almost convinced yourself. almost.

until the acceptance email came.

at first, you thought it was spam. the subject line was too cheerful. too optimistic. too full of polite korean university jargon. but then you opened it, and there it was — bold and clean and terrifying:

congratulations on your admission to the department of psychology at hanil women’s university.

you stared at it for a solid minute, unsure whether to cry, scream, or throw up. maybe all three. you read it again. and then again. and then once more just to make sure it wasn’t a prank from your father, who once photoshopped your middle school report card and printed it on the fridge “for motivation.”

and then you called him.

“you got in?” he said, picking up after one ring, as if he’d been waiting next to the phone like a k-drama dad.

“i got in.”

“to psych?”

“yes.”

“so you’ll finally be able to explain what’s wrong with you.”

“that’s the plan.”

he laughed like it was the best news he’d heard since kim yuna’s olympic gold. you could hear the pride tucked behind his teasing, even if he still refused to say anything too sappy. this was how you and your father celebrated: sarcastic banter, cheap delivery chicken, and maybe — if you really pressed — a heart emoji in a text message two days later.

you saved the acceptance email in three separate folders, took screenshots, emailed it to yourself again just in case the system crashed and erased all evidence that you were now, officially, a psychology student. march semester. hanil women’s university. you made it.

it didn’t fix everything. your head still hurt more days than not, and your stomach kept doing this fluttery thing like it was waiting for the other shoe to drop. but it helped. it grounded you. your dad even sent a voice message where he tried to pronounce “clinical psychology” and accidentally said “clitoris” instead. you cried laughing. saved that too.

and then, just as you were finally starting to convince yourself that life was back on track — that the sunghoon incident was just a weird blip, that niki wasn’t ever coming back to sniff your hallway anxiety again, that your body would stop rebelling against you any day now — your phone buzzed.

just one notification. just one line.

save my number. how’s city life? 🌼

you read it like it might explode. because of course it was her. of course it was now. right when you were managing to piece together something resembling peace — there she was, barging in with lowercase friendliness and a fucking flower emoji. no warning. no apology. no context. just a digital ghost pressing its face to the glass of your almost-healed life.

you stared at the message for a full minute, thumb hovering over the screen like it might bite. she hadn’t contacted you in months — not since she sent you those cold, bullet-pointed instructions on how to legally transfer the lease of your grandmother’s penthouse to your name. not a call. not a birthday emoji. just radio silence. and now… this. polite. breezy. like she was reintroducing herself.

you and your mom never had a real relationship. not after she left your father — not even two months after he started chemo — because her own mother couldn’t stand the idea of her daughter being married to a countryside fisherman.

there was no explosive fight. no door slamming or screaming match. just a quiet kind of abandonment, like someone slowly stepping backward out of the frame. you didn’t beg her to stay. you didn’t cry at her feet. you were thirteen, already too familiar with watching people leave and too tired to stage a dramatic protest.

you never had that teenage rebellion backbone — not the kind that slammed doors and yelled “you don’t understand me” through tears and acne. mostly because you didn’t have the time. you were too busy trying to hold the house together.

your mornings started before sunrise, heating up leftover rice and folding the blankets your father left on the couch when he was too nauseous to sleep in his bed. you’d take the bus to school, headphones in but nothing playing, brain looping through test dates and pharmacy receipts. in the evenings, you’d come home, drop your bag, and start cleaning again. washing dishes, checking the water filter, cooking something he could actually stomach.

your grades hovered somewhere between “survival” and “bare minimum,” not because you weren’t smart, but because you were exhausted. every hour of algebra felt like a theft — time stolen from the real emergencies. and when your classmates complained about their parents being annoying, you stayed quiet. you didn’t know how to explain that your mom had vanished into a new apartment across seoul, and your dad was losing his hair in clumps in the bathtub.

you learned how to read lab reports before you could even understand half of them. you taught yourself how to refill prescriptions without crying at the pharmacy counter. and at some point, you stopped wondering whether your mom was going to call. because she didn’t.

for years, han seo-jeon vanished. and you were too busy to care about that.

and now, here she was — texting like she was trying out for mother of the year. asking how city life was like she hadn’t helped drop you into the middle of a building that felt cursed. you didn’t know what pissed you off more: that she reached out, or that some small, bitter part of you was still hoping she meant it.

you did save the number. not out of sentiment, but logistics. she was, unfortunately, still your mother. and if she was going to start texting again, you at least needed to know when to emotionally flinch.

life in the city had not been the neon-lit montage the commercials promised. no rooftop parties. no cute cafés where you accidentally met your soulmate while reaching for the same scone. instead, you got: weird neighbors. a haunted greenhouse. and an apartment that echoed too much when you were overthinking — which was, statistically speaking, most of the time.

for the past two weeks — since your hot neighbor had an allergic reaction to you — your days were a blur of mild headaches and to-do lists you never fully finished. you woke up late, ate bland convenience store meals, and tried not to notice how heavy your limbs felt lately. it was like your body was trying to warn you about something but refused to be specific. even your skin felt wrong — itchy but not irritated, like your cells were in a group chat and everyone had started subtweeting you.

it’s been two weeks since the greenhouse incident and you haven’t seen this building as empty as it’s been. not a single glimpse of sunghoon — not in the elevator, not in the halls, not even in the mailroom where you used to hear his shoes before you saw him. 

and niki, who once acted like the hallway was his personal runway, had vanished too. no impromptu visits. no weird comments through the door. not even a single “you good?” text with the passive-aggressive concern of a guy pretending not to care.

you stopped hearing late-night music thumping through the walls. the gym — which was always suspiciously clean for a place that niki once described as “his meditation zone” — stayed dark every time you passed it. the whole building felt like it was holding its breath. like it knew something you didn’t.

and maybe the scariest part wasn’t that they were gone. it was that no one else seemed to notice. no neighbors asking questions. no complaints about noise or missing faces. just… silence. echoing down perfect, pastel-colored halls. like the jeonghyeon building was designed to swallow noise. and people.

you told yourself the silence was a good thing. that it meant peace. that it meant maybe things were finally settling into something normal — something liveable.

but when nighttime came, when your apartment dimmed into shades of grey and soft buzzing fridge hums, when you hadn’t more essays to finish because you finally had been approved, the quiet got loud.

it crawled up the walls and pressed against your windows. it sat with you on the couch, next to your half-eaten dinner, and watched you scroll through your phone like it was waiting for you to break first.

you weren’t sleeping much. the insomnia wasn’t new, but it was different now. not the usual overthinking or anxiety kind — not the kind you could talk your way out of with youtube playlists and peppermint tea. this was… physical. your body didn’t want to sleep. it felt like it was bracing for something. like your heart refused to settle into a rhythm unless it knew you were alone, and safe, and not being watched.

at first, you chalked it up to the winter weather. maybe you’d caught a cold walking home with wet hair. maybe the convenience store ramen diet was finally taking its revenge, one sodium-packed headache at a time. your body ached like it had been through a minor car crash — but you were a student again now, technically. a little exhaustion came with the territory.

but when the symptoms hit the two-week marker, you started to get restless. it wasn’t just fatigue anymore. it was this bone-deep tired that sleep didn’t touch. your limbs felt heavy. your skin pulsed under certain lights. your migraines weren’t even announcing themselves like normal — they just showed up, sharp and unapologetic, like a knife pressed between your eyes.

some days you couldn’t even look at your own reflection without feeling like your face was one second away from morphing into someone else’s.

you tried to brush it off, blame it on stress, or hormone shifts, or anything that wasn’t weird supernatural fallout from a rooftop garden horror show. but your dreams said otherwise. and the worst part? you were starting to believe them.

sleep had never been your strong suit — not since you moved into the seonghyeon building, not since that night. some nights you fell asleep without realizing it, slipping into unconsciousness between one thought and the next. other nights you’d lie awake for hours, heart pacing like it was running laps without your permission.

but lately, it wasn’t the lack of sleep that bothered you. it was what came after.

you were never one to actually remember dreams in the morning. you’d wake up blank, maybe with a flicker of color or the echo of a word on your tongue, but nothing concrete. now, though — now they clung to you. heavy and wet. 

they didn’t always make sense. sometimes you couldn’t recognize the places or the faces. sometimes there wasn’t even language, just this overwhelming pull — like your subconscious was trying to lead you somewhere you weren’t ready to go.

and the worst one came midweek, on a tuesday or maybe a wednesday — you’d stopped keeping track. you’d been up until 4 a.m. trying to finish your entrance essay, blinking at the screen like it might write itself if you stared hard enough.

eventually, your body gave up before your brain did. you passed out right there on the couch, lights on, laptop humming warm against your leg.

in the dream, you were back in the greenhouse. only it wasn’t beautiful anymore. the air was wet and sour, like rotting soil and mold. the plants were shriveled, leaves curling in on themselves like dying hands. 

the glass walls were fogged over, and the lights buzzed low, flickering. you couldn’t tell how long you’d been standing there — just that your feet were bare and your skin was cold.

and then you saw him. sunghoon. standing still in the center of it all, surrounded by the decay. same black clothes. same unbothered posture. but his eyes… they glowed this awful, pale gold, like old moonlight trapped behind water. he didn’t speak. didn’t move. just watched you. watched you like he knew something. like he was waiting for you to admit it out loud. whatever it was. 

you woke up gasping. drenched. fingers clenched in the fabric of the couch cushion so hard your nails left dents. your skin was damp with sweat, and the back of your neck felt like it had been kissed by frost. your heartbeat didn’t calm down for ten full minutes. 

you didn’t go back to sleep after that, or the night after that. and now, without even noticing when it started, you hadn’t properly slept in four days. not real sleep. not healing sleep.

you were running on half-hour naps and caffeine shakes, staring at your ceiling like it might blink first. your body was forgetting how to rest — how to switch off — and your brain? well, your brain had entered that fun little stage of exhaustion where everything started feeling like a hallucination.

you kept misplacing things. your keys. your charger. your sentences. your skin felt too tight, your ears kept ringing, and your eyes burned every time you blinked.

you tried to blame it on the season, the new routine, the stress of college. because you had gotten in — that was real. the email had arrived last tuesday, and you’d cried over it in the bathroom like a girl in a coming-of-age movie. but even that joy felt distant now, like it belonged to someone else.

and now it was monday night again. fourteen days since the last time you saw any of your neighbors — not sunghoon, not niki, not even the middle-aged man with the dog that barked at its own reflection in the lobby mirror.

the building had gone eerily silent. the kind of silence that didn’t feel like peace, but like someone was holding their breath.

you were lying on your back, staring at the ceiling like it owed you answers. your phone rested on your chest, heavy and useless, buzzing every now and then with reminders you’d already missed and ads you’d never clicked. one missed call. one weather notification. zero messages from the people you told yourself you didn’t care about hearing from.

your brain was cotton. your limbs were bricks. your spine felt like it had been politely removed and mailed to another country. nothing helped — not water, not caffeine, not your fifteen-minute attempt at yoga that ended with you lying flat on the mat wondering if this was how people in cult documentaries started.

and the dreams weren’t letting up. they came every fifiteen minute nap now, and each one ended in that same suffocating greenhouse, with those same rotting plants and those same pale gold eyes watching you like a question you didn’t want to answer. you were starting to feel haunted by someone who hadn’t even spoken to you in two weeks.

so you called your dad. not for answers, not even for comfort — just because monday nights were the kind of nights where calling him felt like survival.

“kid,” he answered on the second ring, voice thick with sleep and instant worry, “you sick?”

you scoffed, immediately offended. “wow. no hello, no i missed you, just straight to the diagnosis.”

“your breathing’s weird. you’ve got the voice of a medieval orphan. you eating real food or just surviving off noodles again?”

the thing about your father is that he became your friend sometime between your fourteenth and fifteenth birthdays — sometime between hospital visits and pharmacy receipts, between learning how to drain an IV and helping him shower when the chemo made him too weak to lift his arms.

that kind of routine broke people, sometimes. made them distant. awkward. in your case, it did the opposite. it turned him into your favorite person. the only person who really knew you.

and by “knew you,” you didn’t mean in that fake, sentimental way people threw around when they wanted to be close. no. he knew you.

he could read your breath like punctuation. he heard your sighs like subtext. he could tell when you were lying just by how you said the word “fine.” he always knew when your laugh meant happy and when it meant not right now, please.

so when he picked up the phone and didn’t even say hello — just launched into a casual, “okay, how long have you been pretending you’re fine?” — you weren’t surprised. you just let your head fall to the side and sighed into the speaker.

“jesus, dad. give a girl some mystery.”

“mystery’s for strangers. and you don’t call me this late unless something’s up. so. what’s wrong? food poisoning? heartbreak? crime?”

“crime?” you snorted. “what kind of crime?”

“you tell me.” he yawned. “you’re the one whispering like someone’s watching.”

“i’m not whispering.”

“yet.”

you pulled your blanket higher up your chest. the warmth didn’t help much, but the sarcasm did.

“it’s not a big deal. just haven’t been sleeping.”

“for how long?”

“…i plead the fifth.”

“that’s an american law, kid.”

“then i plead being very korean and very tired.”

he chuckled on the other end — that low, warm sound that always made you feel like a person again. “okay. insomnia. check. what else?”

“you want the list alphabetically or emotionally?”

“surprise me.”

you paused. the line stayed quiet. and then:

“you ever feel like your body knows something you don’t?”

that made him go silent for real.

then, in the most casual tone imaginable:

“are you finally becoming a vampire?”

you groaned. “dad.”

“what? you always had the teeth for it.”

another thing about your dad was that he was, in fact, obsessed with vampires since his teenage years. how did you discover that?

oh, he never kept it hidden.

the man had tastes, and they were proudly undead. your childhood home had shelves dedicated to vampire literature, half of them worn out from rereads, the other half banned from your school’s book list.

it wasn’t just books either. halloween — a day that barely made a ripple in your korean school life — was his super bowl. even if there was no party to go to, no one to impress, he’d still show up on october 31st dressed like an eighteenth-century romanian warlord, sipping blood-red juice from a goblet he bought off some sketchy forum in 2009.

once, he wore a victorian frock coat and a prosthetic bite wound to your school’s parent–teacher meeting because he forgot to change. you’d never lived that down.

he was harmless about it, though. just enthusiastic. you used to think it was a dad thing — like model trains or grilling. but as you got older, you realized he didn’t just find vampires cool. he respected them. like they were a dying species whose stories deserved to be preserved.

he claimed it started as a joke. some middle school phase, back when vampires were still making headlines. but it stuck. and now, years later, he still made the same awful jokes and kept the same bookshelf and watched the same bootleg documentaries that used actual vampire interviews from the early days, back when coexistence was something society still tried to publicly understand.

he used to say, “one day they’ll come back around. real ones. they never disappeared, they just got quieter. like wolves when the forest burns.”

“you’ve been waiting your whole life to say that, haven’t you?” you mutter through clenched teeth, voice scratchy with exhaustion as another migraine slices across your skull like a dull knife.

“literally. your mother hated when i made those jokes. said it would scare you.”

“it didn’t scare me. it made me judgmental.”

“same thing at your age.” he paused, then added more gently, “what’s your symptoms?”

“i think i’m dying. pretty sure. either i’m dying or i’m the chosen one. probably both.” you grimace alone in your bedroom, pressing the phone tighter to your ear like proximity might somehow dull the ache — like your dad’s ridiculous voice might drown out the static building behind your eyes.

he chuckled. “you always wanted to be special. now look at you. main character syndrome.”

“dad, i’m serious. something’s off. i’ve been having migraines and dreams and…” you trailed off. rubbed your temple. “weird stuff. i can’t explain it. it’s probably stress, right?”

“or,” he said, entirely too cheerful, “you’ve been marked by a vampire.”

you groaned. “not this again.”

“hey, you brought up chosen one energy. don’t act surprised when the lore gets involved.”

you stared at the ceiling, lips twitching despite yourself. “lore? have you been sneaking onto aeri’s tiktok again? you’re obsessed.”

“obsessed is a strong word. passionately informed, maybe. listen—back in the eighties, they were everywhere. on the news. in magazines. talk shows. you’re too young to remember, but vamps were the real deal. civil rights protests, televised feedings, designer blood banks—hell, they had perfume lines.”

“dad.”

“and the soulmate stuff? wild. freaked people out. imagine waking up one day and realizing some pale bastard with three centuries of unresolved trauma has you bookmarked in his little undead brain. bam. linked for life.”

you snorted. “you say that like it actually happened.”

“it did happen. i had a friend in middle school—joon-seok—swore up and down his aunt bonded with a vamp in the seventies. met him at a blood drive or something. said she had dreams about him for weeks before they even locked eyes.”

“uh-huh.”

“i’m serious! back then it was like—vampires weren’t some secret club. people knew about them. they had ID cards, worked night shifts, bought supplements, did press tours. hell, there was this old drama your grandma used to watch where a vampire opened a pharmacy. they were around, okay?”

you raised an eyebrow. “then where are they now?”

“vanished,” he said, a little too dramatically. “right after the second blood regulation act in '93. that’s when everything got strict. no more voluntary donors, only licensed feeding centers, stuff like that. vamps started leaving the cities. some went underground. some just… stopped showing up.”

“so now they’re like urban legends with tax records.”

“basically. but back in the fifties, when the law passed that made them part of school curriculum, people freaked. there were protests. some parents didn’t want their kids learning about blood bonds or mortality rights. said it was corrupting the youth. but most people didn’t care. not really. they figured the vamps were gone anyway, so what was the harm in reading a textbook about them?”

you were quiet for a second. your fingers traced the hem of your blanket. “but they’re still around.”

he sighed, softer now. “probably. just hiding better. or maybe they figured out humans aren’t worth the hassle.”

you didn’t know what to say to that. you didn’t even know if you believed half of what he’d said — and yet… you wanted to.

maybe because lately, your dreams were starting to feel less like stress and more like memories that didn’t belong to you.

“you’re quiet,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.

“just thinking,” you replied, which was technically true, but your voice came out thinner than expected. you shifted on the bed, pushing the blanket down to your waist, your skin suddenly too hot. you’d been feeling like that all day — warm in your joints, flushed in your chest, like your blood was dragging itself uphill. it wasn’t a fever, exactly, but it wasn’t nothing.

on the other end, your dad went silent for a beat. “how long has this been going on?”

“what?”

“the weird dreams. the migraines. the fact that you just said three words without a single joke in them.”

you rubbed your forehead. “don’t start.”

“i’m serious, kid.”

“so am i. i think it’s just... the city. or the stress. or hormones. or caffeine withdrawal. or,” you inhaled, voice flattening, “i’m dying and it’s a really slow, poetic demise.”

“you’ve always been dramatic,” he said, but he didn’t sound amused anymore. “have you seen a doctor?”

“no insurance yet.”

“baby—”

“dad,” you cut in, then sighed. “i’m okay. just a little off.”

he didn’t answer immediately. and when he did, it was softer. older. “you sound like how your mom used to get.”

you blinked. “what do you mean?”

“back before... everything. she’d go quiet like that. said her skin itched from the inside out. said her dreams smelled like soil and smoke.”

that made your stomach twist. “you never told me that.”

“you never asked.”

and there it was again. that quiet, pulsing unease. like something was being handed to you in pieces — but the full picture still refused to come together.

“you know,” your dad added, offhand, like it wasn’t about to lodge itself under your skin for the next several years, “your mom used to get these weird spells too. back in the day.”

you blinked. “what kind of spells?”

“feverish, bone-deep fatigue. said it felt like her whole body was… not hers. she’d get these migraines that knocked her out for days. always happened around seasonal shifts or when she got really stressed. i took her to the hospital once and they ran every test imaginable. nothing ever came back.”

you stared at the ceiling, the shape of your own breath shifting slightly. “you’ve literally never told me that.”

“you’ve literally never asked.”

your heart gave a slow, reluctant thud — like it was unsure whether to beat faster or stop altogether.

“i thought it was just anxiety,” you said.

“it might be,” he replied quickly, too quickly. “probably is. you’re under pressure, adjusting to a new city, new apartment, starting college — it’s a lot.”

but he didn’t say it like he believed it.

and you didn’t hear it like you believed it either.

he seemed to sense the silence hardening between you, because he cleared his throat. “okay, let’s just make a list, yeah? go full nurse mode.”

you exhaled, quietly grateful for the deflection. “sure.”

“fever?”

“not exactly.”

“headache?”

“migraine.”

“appetite?”

“dead.”

“joint pain?”

“like old creaky stairs.”

“chills?”

“yes. but only sometimes. like… internal shivering.”

he hummed. “hm. sounds like what your mom said, too.”

you didn’t answer. not really because you didn’t want to. more because you couldn’t — because the words sat heavy on your chest, like something that had been waiting to be remembered.

he kept talking, light again, half-joking like always. “could be an autoimmune flare. could be your iron. could be a ghost. could be—”

“a vampire?” you deadpanned, waiting to see his reaction.

“finally! thank you for saying it first. you brought up ‘chosen one’ energy. don’t act surprised when the lore gets involved,” he repeated with far too much glee.

you scoffed, shifting the phone to your other ear as you curled deeper into your blanket cocoon. “you need a new hobby.”

“i do. how’s city life treating you aside dying from fever dreams and vampire encounters? made any friends yet?”

you hesitated. just enough for him to catch it.

“...no,” you said eventually. “not really. just weird neighbors.”

“hmm.” a beat. “any of them look suspicious to you?”

you scoffed again — but it came out closer to a laugh this time. not because it was funny, but because it was accurate. “dad. this building is suspicious. the floor tiles look suspicious. i’m pretty sure the elevator music changes based on your blood type.”

he snorted. “so that’s a yes.”

“i didn’t say that.”

“you didn’t have to.”

you rolled your eyes, but a small part of you was glad he asked. even if you weren’t about to admit that the weirdest one of all had glowing eyes in your dreams and possibly an allergic reaction to your existence.

“look, kid,” he said, suddenly serious in that half-joking, half-dad way of his. “if any of them turns out to be a vampire, you call me first, okay? i want to meet one before i die.”

you snorted. “right. i’ll schedule a coffee date between your blood pressure pills and my hallucinations.”

“i’m serious. call me. and then you run, alright? don’t be cute. don’t do that heroine nonsense where you try to understand him or fix him or whatever. just—bolt. fangs equals exit.”

you rolled your eyes, even as your chest squeezed a little. “yeah, yeah. wooden stake, garlic, sprint in the opposite direction. got it.”

he paused. “...you still carrying that pepper spray i gave you?”

you didn’t answer immediately.

“do not tell me you lost it.”

“technically,” you said, drawing the word out, “it’s not lost if i know it’s somewhere in my kitchen junk drawer.”

“god help you.”

“god’s not the one with bloodlust in my building, dad.”

“exactly why i’m saying this.” his voice softened. “you’re a smart girl. just… trust your gut, okay?”

you didn’t have the heart to tell him that your gut hadn’t been reliable since sunghoon looked at you like you were something to be devoured and saved all at once.

“okay,” you whispered instead.

“good. now go drink water or something. you sound like you’re dying.”

“thanks for the emotional support.”

“anytime. love you.”

“love you too.”

you hung up. and for the first time all week, your apartment didn’t feel entirely empty. just a little haunted.

monday night came in like a ghost—silent, heavy, and cold. for the first time in a while, you weren’t sure if you were awake or dreaming. after you hang up the call with your father, your body floated through your night routine of existing while your mind kept slipping out of your grip. everything tasted like metal. your skin was clammy, your head hot, but your fingers ice-cold.

you fell asleep that night without meaning to, face buried into your pillow, phone buzzing somewhere under the blanket. and for the first time, the dream didn’t take place in the greenhouse.

this time, you were at a bar.

warm lights buzzed overhead, golden and slow, like honey. niki sat across from you in a booth too plush to be real, his hands wrapped around a glass filled with something electric blue. you were laughing—no clue why—but the kind of laughing that made your ribs ache, cheeks flushed. he was grinning, head tilted, like this was a game he knew how to play.

and then it changed.

like someone had ripped the film reel and taped another piece of movie over it.

the lights dimmed. the music stopped. everything blurred. your breath came out visible, like fog. and niki looked at you without smiling this time. not cruelly. not kindly. just looking.

"he didn’t mean to scare you, you know." his voice was so thick it made your insides tremble.

you blinked. "what?"

"you’re not supposed to feel it this strong."

you opened your mouth, but nothing came out. the booth dissolved around you. the lights disappeared. and then you were falling, stomach-lurching, skin searing.

you woke up with your hand clenched in your sheets and the inside of your mouth tasting like copper. your body was soaked in sweat. the window was fogged over. your throat felt raw. every muscle in your body ached like you had been sprinting in your sleep.

by the time you sat up, your phone said it was 6:02 a.m.

you didn’t think. didn’t even wash your face. you just threw on your thickest hoodie, dragged yourself into your boots, and called a cab. you needed a hospital. something was wrong. your body had been telling you for weeks. you were just finally ready to listen.

you grabbed your keys off the kitchen counter with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking. not dramatically — just this quiet, persistent tremor, like your body was trying to ring some kind of alarm your brain still hadn’t heard.

your hoodie felt too hot and not warm enough at the same time, clinging to the sweat still clinging to your skin. your breath fogged the front door glass. you ignored the mirror by the entrance completely. you already knew you looked like shit.

stepping out into the hallway was like stepping underwater. the building was so quiet it felt wrong — not peaceful, but hollow, like it had been emptied out moments before you arrived.

your boots were too loud against the marble, each step echoing in a way that made your stomach twist. and then you pressed the button for the elevator.

you pressed the button. the elevator arrived.

and that’s when you saw him. a someone you have never seen properly.

red hair. tall. face like someone who didn’t try to look good, just was. hands in his pockets. bored expression. headphones around his neck, not on. you blinked, confused for half a second — and then your brain clicked into place. heeseung. that’s what niki had said. the quiet one. the scary one. the one that belonged to your hot set of neighbors that had disappeared for two whole weeks.

you’d never actually spoken to him. hell, you’d never even seen him this close before. just glimpses inside their apartment once, whispers in passing. but now, at 6:13 a.m., in your half-dead state, he was standing in the elevator like some glitch in your morning programming.

heeseung didn’t look at you at first. just shifted slightly, like he wasn’t expecting company. and then — his nose twitched.

subtle. sharp. 

just like niki had done that night after the incident.

and then he turned. slowly. deliberately. his eyes scanned your face, dropped to your hands, then back up again — like he was taking inventory. like you were… something.

he didn’t say anything. didn’t smile. but he definitely noticed you.

you stepped inside anyway. because you had to. because your chest felt too tight and your throat burned and if you didn’t sit down in a sterile waiting room within the hour you were pretty sure your organs would give out.

heeseung moved slightly to the side, still watching you out of the corner of his eye. the doors closed. the elevator began to descend.

you focused on the panel, the numbers lighting up one by one. he didn’t speak. didn’t clear his throat. didn’t reach for his headphones. he just… stood there. completely still.

you were too exhausted to care. too sick to feel awkward. too scared to ask why, when his nose twitched again, his throat visibly tightened — like he was resisting the same instinct you’d seen flood sunghoon’s eyes on that rooftop.

the elevator dinged softly as it reached the lobby, the sound barely registering through the static in your skull. your limbs moved before your mind could catch up — muscle memory, maybe. or sheer desperation. you stepped out, blinking under the fluorescent lights, the air colder here, sharper, like it hadn’t been used all night.

heeseung didn’t follow immediately. you paused, slow, turning your head slightly, just enough to see him still inside the elevator, standing exactly where he’d been the entire ride down. his gaze flicked toward you. brief. unreadable.

and then he turned — not toward the glass exit like you had, but deeper into the building. no words. no goodbye. just a quiet pivot on his heel and footsteps swallowed by the corridor tiles. gone. like he hadn’t just stared at you like you were something he almost recognized.

you stood there for a moment, dazed. the outside world waited on the other side of the sliding doors, all grey sky and early winter air, your breath already fogging against the glass. you were still half-drenched in cold sweat, your hoodie clinging to your spine, fingers twitching with leftover dream static.

then, as if on cue, headlights flashed against the curb. your cab.

you pushed through the doors. the cold hit you instantly — fresh and cutting, but grounding. you stumbled more than stepped toward the car, collapsing into the backseat with all the grace of a wet noodle.

you didn’t look back. not at the building. not at the glass doors. not at the place where heeseung had disappeared.

you just pulled the door closed, gave the driver the hospital name, and leaned your head against the window.

whatever was happening to your body — whatever strange, slow collapse you were crawling through — you were done ignoring it.

—— 

the ride to the hospital was slow. slower than it should’ve been for a six a.m. trip with no traffic, but maybe that was just your body dragging time behind it.

every turn of the cab made your stomach lurch, your pulse throb at the base of your skull like a broken metronome. you curled tighter into your hoodie, eyes half-shut, watching the city yawn awake through the fogged window.

streetlights flickered out. bakeries opened metal shutters. someone walked their tiny dog in a matching jacket. the world was still spinning, business as usual — but your body hadn’t gotten the memo.

hospitals were never your favorite place. you’d spent too many late afternoons in one, slumped beside your dad while he slept through chemo, trying to balance a school textbook on your knees and pretend you weren’t thirteen and terrified.

back then, hospitals smelled like antiseptic and fear. now, they smelled like routine and something sour rising in your throat.

the emergency wing was mostly empty when you stumbled in, barely able to speak past the burn in your chest.

they made you sit. take a number. the nurse who called you in was young, her ponytail too tight and her smile too professional to be comforting. she took your temperature, your blood pressure, asked how long you’d been feeling this way — and your answers were all a blur of shrugs and mumbles.

she furrowed her brow. called in someone else. another nurse. a maybe-doctor. you were poked, prodded, and ultimately left with a note scrawled on hospital paper and a prescription for the most generic painkillers known to man.

nothing definitive. no test results. no dramatic diagnoses. just vague nods and “it’s probably viral” and “get some rest.”

you’d nearly laughed in their faces. but your lungs hurt too much.

you’d barely made it down the hallway before your phone slipped out of your fingers twice while trying to open the ride app. the nurse at reception gave you a pamphlet about hydration and a smile like she thought you were dramatic, and maybe you were — you were twenty-three, chronically underslept and iron-deficient.

of course you were dramatic. but you were also right. something was wrong. they just didn’t have the equipment to name it.

the cab smelled like mint gum and cigarettes, and the driver didn’t ask questions, which was kind of perfect. you stared out the window the whole ride back, watching the city flicker past in washed-out gray. your throat burned, and your stomach rolled, and there was only one place your body wanted to collapse.

and then, finally, the seonghyeon jaega building came into view — dark, looming, stupidly expensive. familiar. you tipped the driver more than you should’ve and slid out without a word.

you stumbled into the lobby like a cartoon ghost, hoodie strings dangling, hospital paper crumpled in one hand. this time, the doorman was there — the one with the dead fish eyes and the ridiculous thermos with a cartoon shark on it, hyunwoo, you think.

he looked up from his crossword and smiled politely.

“good morning, miss.”

you nodded, tried for a smile, something automatic. it barely stretched across your face. “morning.”

he didn’t press. just nodded back, went back to his puzzle like you weren’t the walking dead in fuzzy socks.

your chest was still tight by the time the elevator closed behind you. your fingers fumbled the painkillers into your mouth like muscle memory. water, swallow, sigh.

the elevator doors closed with that same slow, deliberate finality they always had, like the building itself was chewing you up and giving you a moment to realize it. you leaned your back against the mirrored wall, the cold glass seeping through the cheap fabric of your oversized hoodie. underneath, you were still wearing the thermal pajamas you’d left the house in — flannel with little blue bears on them. cute, in theory. tragic, in the fluorescence of an elevator that smelled like metal and lemon cleaner.

the temperature was impossible to pin down. too warm around your neck, but your fingers felt icy. your breathing grew shallow — not panicked, exactly, just... off. like your lungs were trying to inflate through a coffee straw. your legs ached, your spine was stiff, and your vision flickered at the edges like a dying film reel.

and then there was the music.

soft, aimless, infuriatingly cheerful — some instrumental jazz cover of a pop song you couldn’t name. it filled the silence like a joke you weren’t in on.

your head tilted back. your eyes slipped closed just for a second.

your knees wobbled.

you didn’t even notice the bell ding — didn’t realize the elevator had reached your floor until the doors sighed open, cool air brushing against your clammy face. you blinked once. twice. the hallway felt darker than usual. not unlit — just dim in that way that made shadows stretch longer. 

and that’s when you heard it.

music. faint, pulsing through the air — not elevator music, but actual music. bass, low and smooth, like a party was happening behind closed doors.

your neighbors. their apartment. the one that had been silent for two full weeks. you hadn’t seen any of them. not even a sliver of a shadow beneath their door. but now, someone was definitely inside.

you stood frozen, one hand halfway inside your hoodie pocket, searching for your keys. the motion felt foreign now, like your limbs belonged to someone else. you looked down — or tried to — but the world tilted slightly, just enough to make your breath catch.

your fingers felt too thick, your palms too sweaty. and your vision… it was wrong. blurry in the center, like someone had smeared vaseline over your pupils.

it hit you, then — the vertigo, sudden and sharp. like your body had lost the plot entirely, like it was trying to reject gravity itself.

your knees buckled, and you had to lock them to stay upright. the hallway stretched before you, distorted and too quiet. like it was holding its breath.

you tried to laugh. just a small, sarcastic breath. but it came out wrong.

if this was how it ended, death in fuzzy socks and blue bear pajamas, you hoped the morgue at least had the decency to change your clothes.

your hand was still braced against the wall when your vision gave out for real.

it started at the edges — a gray blur creeping inward, slow and soft like fog rolling off the ocean. and then came the ringing. a high, steady whine that drowned out everything else.

you blinked hard, tried to shake it off, maybe whisper a curse to yourself just to prove you were still awake, still standing, still you. but your tongue felt too heavy in your mouth. your body didn’t move. it just paused — like a system crash in real time.

you took one step.

the floor shifted beneath you, or maybe it was the hallway that leaned — you couldn’t tell. all you knew was that the walls started breathing. that was the only way you could explain it.

the plaster pulsed like lungs. the light above you buzzed louder. the key in your hand slipped again, bounced once on the tile with a sound that echoed way too loud for something so small.

you tried to grab it.

you didn’t make it.

your knees folded first — no drama, no warning. just gone. the weight of your body hit the floor with a dull thud. your cheek pressed against the cold tile.

it felt good, almost. like sinking into something solid after floating too long. your ribs ached from the fall, or maybe they’d been aching for days and this was just the last straw.

you saw the elevator doors closing in your peripheral. heard the soft whirr of them sealing shut. somewhere behind your eyes, the pressure built. like something ancient and wrong was trying to crawl out.

and then darkness. not unconsciousness, not yet — just a deepening shade. like the hallway was dimming just for you.

then came the black. final and quiet.

you didn’t hear the door open across the hall. you didn’t see the figure step into the light. you didn’t know someone had been watching.

——

you came to like a body surfacing from black water — slowly, painfully, limbs cold and heavy, breath dragging itself in ragged pieces through your nose. your eyelids were leaden. every blink took effort.

the world behind them was gray, not quite dark, not quite light, just there, suspended and quiet like someone had pressed pause on the air itself.

your head ached. not the sharp pain of migraines, but the dull, submerged throb of something deeper, more systemic. like your blood was moving wrong inside you. like your insides had been shuffled, then stitched back together under anesthesia.

but you weren’t numb. no — there was sensation. your skin felt… balsamic. cooled over. like someone had run ice across your arms hours ago and it still hadn’t melted.

the air in your lungs was stale, metallic. your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.

you didn’t open your eyes at first. couldn’t. the weight of your body was too much. even the pulse behind your knees hurt. even your fingertips tingled with the kind of exhaustion that belonged to the sick — not the tired. the sick.

you didn’t remember falling asleep.

you didn’t remember making it back to your apartment.

hell, you didn’t remember getting off the elevator.

eventually, after a few minutes — maybe longer — you managed to open your eyes halfway. the ceiling was the first thing you noticed: tall, shadowed, vaguely ornate in the dark, like you were looking at it underwater. not your ceiling. not your room.

your pulse spiked. something primal stirred in your ribs. you shifted, just slightly, and the sheets under your skin told you everything — they were too soft. too expensive. too not-yours. you registered the faint smell of something woodsy and warm — bergamot, maybe. something layered, complicated. familiar.

but the rest of the room came in pieces. the walls, dark and blurred. curtains, still drawn. a dresser with gold accents, a lamp too dim to see the switch. shadows shifted in the corner.

and that’s when it hit you.

you weren’t at home. not yours, at least.

you swallowed, throat raw. you tried to shift your head, to look, but even turning your neck felt like moving through water. 

the room swam as you turned, your eyes dragging across the edges of expensive shadow — velvet curtains pulled halfway closed, light bleeding through in soft golds and sickly grays.

the bed beneath you was too soft, the sheets too smooth, like they belonged in a hotel room or a catalog, not your life. you weren’t used to this kind of comfort. and now, it felt wrong.

you blinked hard, vision blurring again, and finally the rest of the room began to settle into focus. a dresser — vintage. gold-framed mirror with a crack near the corner. a collection of books lined up too neatly. and coats. coats you didn’t recognize, thrown carelessly on a chair too clean to be real.

and then — the unmistakable curve of a shoulder. the long shadow of someone standing still.

you froze. someone was there. no.

not someone. multiple someones.

you couldn’t move your neck fast enough to catch all of them at once, but you didn’t need to. the room felt occupied. the atmosphere itself buzzed with quiet attention, like your awakening had flipped a switch you couldn’t see.

your vision tilted sideways and that’s when you caught it: a tall figure near the corner. motionless. arms crossed. sharp silhouette, too familiar.

niki.

your chest pulled tight. not with relief — not exactly. something in your body recoiled before your brain could make sense of it, like it hadn’t decided yet if his presence meant safety or danger.

you blinked once. twice. tried to clear your sight, tried to will away the syrupy haze still coating your lashes. but the outline remained. long limbs. black clothes. the way his weight shifted from one foot to the other, lazy, like standing upright was an inconvenience.

you should’ve felt comforted. he was the only face you recognized here. but instead, your muscles locked into something colder.

slowly, pieces started dropping into place, memories unrolling in the back of your skull like loose film: the elevator buttons glowing too slow. the air going stale. your ears ringing. fumbling for your keys. the elevator music mocking you with that stupid, upbeat jazz. your knees giving out. music from a nearby apartment — one you hadn’t heard life from in two full weeks — and then nothing.

darkness.

and now — this.

you shifted your eyes again, dragging your vision past the edge of the dresser, and there it was. someone else. younger, maybe. shorter than niki but not smaller — no, the space around him shrunk. like he was pulling it into himself.

he stood with his hands loosely clasped in front of him, hair parted too neatly, posture too perfect. he wasn’t looking at you. but your chest still caved a little the moment your gaze landed on him.

you didn’t know his name. hadn’t seen him around. but you had seen him once — blurred through the peephole on your first day here, flanked by the same crowd of sharp-dressed men. mafia, your brain had offered. or something worse.

he looked like he could kill someone with a sentence. and that if he did, he’d do it with impeccable grammar.

and then — the final one.

your eyes caught movement near the door. not coming in, not leaving — just standing there. someone with their back to you, broad shoulders squared, head tilted like they were listening to something you couldn’t hear.

his coat was expensive. dark. layered like he’d been pulled from a noir film and dropped straight into your fever dream. even from behind, you recognized him.

you didn’t know how. maybe the shape of him was burned into your brain now, maybe your blood had started mapping itself around the sound of his voice. but it was sunghoon. you knew it as sure as you knew your own name.

and despite every reason your brain tried to throw at you — the rooftop, the eyes, the way he looked at you like he was starving — your body… relaxed.

just a little.

and that scared you the most.

the realization landed with a thud — no drama, no crescendo. just a slow, icy spread of fuck.

your body recoiled, bones stiffening like it was trying to protect something inside of you that had already been exposed. because this was real. he was real. sunghoon. standing right there.

and that fact alone made everything else around you sharpen into clarity.

you had passed out. not inside your apartment, not in bed, not even in the privacy of your own little rented anonymity. no. you had passed out in the hallway. on a tuesday morning. in winter. wearing your dumbest socks and your oldest hoodie and whatever pride you had left.

and now you were here — not in a hospital, not even with a nurse — but in their apartment. his apartment. the place you’d only ever imagined from the other side of your thin wall. and you were being watched. by too many people. too many eyes.

but the worst part?

you still felt sick.

not flu sick. not tired or hungover or “i skipped breakfast” sick.

this was something else.

this was nausea curled around your spine like a snake. this was your blood running too fast, then too slow, like it couldn’t decide who it belonged to. your skin didn’t fit right. your limbs felt like borrowed furniture. and deep inside — somewhere between your lungs and your stomach — something was pulsing. thrumming.

you didn’t know what was happening to you.

but you knew it wasn’t natural. and it sure as hell wasn’t over.

your fingers twitched first.

just barely. just enough to make the blanket shift near your hip — a slow, traitorous movement that betrayed your consciousness before your eyes could.

you tried to stay still. to keep your breath shallow, chest frozen mid-rise. but your body had other plans. and the moment you shifted your hand again — not on purpose, just from the static ache of your joints — the air in the room changed.

you didn’t see them react at first. you felt it.

like the drop in pressure before a thunderstorm.

then a rustle. fabric brushing against leather. the creak of wood beneath shifting weight. soft, purposeful movements, like they were trying not to scare you. or maybe trying not to startle each other.

“she’s awake,” someone said, voice low. careful. male.

you didn’t know who it was — not yet — but it pulled your eyes open like a string had been yanked from behind them.

the blur cleared slowly, and then you saw it: niki had moved closer. crouched near the bed now, his usual smirk absent, replaced by something you didn’t recognize — not quite concern. not quite guilt. just… watching.

behind him stood the other man — shorter, more compact, but no less imposing. he looked at you like you were a puzzle he didn’t mind breaking apart to solve.

niki’s eyes didn’t leave your face, and for a moment, you could almost pretend this was a dream again. that none of this was real.

but the ache in your limbs, the heat still trapped under your skin, the taste of metal on your tongue — it all said otherwise.

niki looked at you with something that hovered between pity and worry — unfamiliar emotions when filtered through his usually unreadable face.

for some reason, that scared you more than anything else.

“you’re stabilizing faster than i thought.” it’s the first thing he says, slicing clean through the quiet and making your ears ring. the words hit you wrong — not just because of what they meant, but how they sounded. too casual. too clinical. like this was normal. like you were normal.

your face twisted on instinct, some pained reaction caught between confusion and disgust. your lips curled back, eyebrows pinched. it wasn’t even what he said — it was how he said it.

“jesus,” you muttered, pressing your palm to your temple, “did you always sound this annoying or is that a new post-trauma tone?”

niki didn’t laugh. just tilted his head slightly, like your bite had confirmed something for him. like he’d expected the fight. like he preferred it.

your voice sounded terrible — like gravel soaked in fire, your vocal cords rasping out their protest with the elegance of a dying cat.

the boy behind niki — the terrifying one with that calm, unreadable face — took a step back as soon as you spoke. not dramatically. not even with alarm. just a slow, calculated shift in weight, like the sound of your voice had confirmed something for him. like he hadn’t been expecting you to sound that wrecked.

your eyes cut to him instinctively, and for a second, all you could register was that air around him felt different — sharp, quiet, waiting.

what really made you feel awful — worse than the nausea, the fever dreams, the throat that burned like you’d swallowed sandpaper — was that sunghoon still hadn’t turned around.

he was right there. you knew that it was him, your brain was certain of it.

tall, straight-backed, motionless. staring at the door like it was going to solve all his problems if he just glared hard enough. you didn’t know what exactly you expected from him — maybe an apology, a grimace, a nod of acknowledgment — but definitely not this. not silence. not cold shoulders when your blood was still boiling in your veins like it was trying to cook you from the inside out.

how dare he not stare at you like his other two friends were doing right now. how dare he not even glance at you now that you were awake.

you hated that you were hyper-aware of his silhouette. that you recognized the slope of his shoulders already. that, even without looking at his face, you could tell he was tense. worse than that, you hated that the tension didn’t feel rooted in indifference. it felt rooted in guilt.

or shame.

was he fucking embarrassed?

good. he should be. he should be mortified, actually. you blamed all of this on him. every fever spike. every migraine. every dream that left your sheets soaked (not in a good way) and your body aching in ways no human sickness had ever managed.

you blamed it on the way he had looked at you that night. like he was starving. like you weren’t real. like you were his.

you shifted slightly under the covers, the motion sending another wave of heat curling behind your eyes. your voice was wrecked, your body was failing, and your patience was hanging by a thread made of spite and caffeine withdrawal.

and then, through cracked lips and clenched teeth, you rasped:

“do you plan on facing me anytime soon, or should i just keel over again while you brood in a corner?”

niki and jungwon glanced at you, then back to sunghoon — the silence dragging, thick and charged. they weren’t saying anything, but the exchange between the three of them was unmistakable.

it felt like waiting for a bomb to go off. or a verdict to drop. you didn’t like it. didn’t like being the center of some unspoken tension you didn’t understand, didn’t cause, didn’t even want to be a part of.

you felt the tension, too. but not the romantic kind, not the kind that sizzled in books or made girls blush in school hallways. no, this was the kind that crawled under your skin and nested there. this was physical. literal.

your body had latched onto sunghoon like a tuning fork the second your eyes opened in this weird room, and his silence was making it worse — like your cells were offended.

like something primal inside you was throwing a tantrum, demanding acknowledgment. and the longer he stood with his back to you, the more your nerves twisted.

you were sick. god, you were sick. not just flu-sick or stress-sick — something else. something worse. it was spreading now, minute by minute, like acknowledging sunghoon in the same room was gasoline thrown on a fire you’d been trying to smother.

your head pounded, your stomach twisted, your limbs buzzed like your blood had turned carbonated. this wasn’t anxiety. it wasn’t psychosomatic. it felt like your entire body was trying to make you get his attention — or punish you until you did.

and honestly? this was embarrassing. not just uncomfortable or inconvenient — embarrassing. your brain was offended by the sheer audacity of your own body, reacting like this on a tuesday morning, no less.

like what, did your bloodstream forget the concept of normalcy? you were sweating through your clothes, your eyes were stinging, your limbs were shaking, and sunghoon — the root of all this insanity — hadn’t even looked at you.

what the fuck was your problem?

you didn’t know. you couldn’t name it. you just felt it — wrong, off, tilted. like the world had taken a sharp left and forgot to tell you.

you shifted again, groaning under your breath. you hated that you were still wearing your ridiculous blue pajamas under your outer clothes, soaked through with sweat despite the sub-zero weather. your skin felt clammy, your hands trembling against the silky throw blanket that wasn’t yours.

you hated that your mind was starting to spiral — that part of you was honestly considering the possibility that you were going insane.

or maybe… maybe not insane.

maybe they were exactly what they looked like.

sunghoon. niki. the terrifying man with the unreadable stare. even the one with the red hair and sharp profile you saw earlier in the elevator. they didn’t move like regular people. didn’t talk like regular people. and you’d read enough books — watched enough late-night documentaries with your dad — to know that this wasn’t just exhaustion anymore.

it felt like you were part of something unnatural.

and god, the thought of even entertaining this? it was ridiculous. not in the cute, ironic way where you half-believe your horoscope and laugh about mercury being in retrograde — no. this was full-blown absurdity. the kind of absurdity that scraped the edges of delusion.

believing in vampires wasn’t the problem. of course they existed. humanity had shared space with another species for centuries. that wasn’t up for debate. they were in the history books, the legal records, the school curriculum.

you had taken a literal midterm in middle school about post-war vampire rights. designer blood banks. the civil coexistence acts of the 1950s. it wasn’t a mystery. it just wasn’t relevant anymore — at least not to you. not in your life.

but this? the idea that they were here — your neighbors? that one of them — maybe more than one — had looked at you and decided something behind those sharp eyes? that one of them could’ve… claimed your attention? affected your body in a way you didn’t even understand?

no. absolutely not. you weren’t that girl. you refused to be that girl.

you didn’t realize you were breathing hard until the unnamed one — the quiet one with the suffocating presence — finally spoke.

“she’s peaking again.”

his voice wasn’t loud. but it was clear. measured. like he was stating a fact about the weather, or about war.

you blinked. tried to sit up again — a stupid, impulsive act, born not of logic but of panic. the kind that crawled up your spine when the world felt too heavy, too strange, too wrong. you wanted to ask what he meant by that, what was his name, but you felt panic instead.

the blanket covering you was soft, maybe even expensive, but it felt like lead pressing your bones into the mattress. too thick, too warm, too intentional.

you clawed at it, fingers shaking, limbs weak and disobedient. your shoulder burned with the effort of moving half an inch, and the moment you tried to raise your head, the blood in your skull surged like a wave crashing against a too-small shore.

and then, finally, he moved.

not much — not dramatically — but enough for every cell in your body to register the shift. a shoulder rolled back, barely. a hand unclenched at his side. his head tilted, slowly, as if listening to something only he could hear.

and then, almost reluctantly, like it cost him something, sunghoon turned.

his body twisted first, then his face, the shadows catching on the sharp lines of his jaw, the curve of his neck.

his hair looked darker in here, like ink had soaked through the strands, and it framed his face in a way that made your stomach twist. but it wasn’t the usual twist. not awe. not that stupid crush-thrill that had haunted your bloodstream weeks ago.

this was something else.

his eyes found yours — and stayed there.

and god, he looked tired.

not in the human way. not sleep-deprived or hungover. but hollowed-out. like someone had reached into his chest and scooped something vital out and left him barely functioning.

his cheekbones were sharper, his skin too pale under the warm light. he wasn’t perfect anymore. not in the haunting, statuesque way you remembered from the rooftop. now he looked… worn. real. something tugged at the corner of his mouth, not quite a frown. not quite anything.

and then it happened. the second his eyes fully met yours — that aching, gnawing illness that had been feasting on your nerves for two weeks cracked. like glass under heat.

your breath hitched. your ears popped. you blinked, and suddenly you could breathe.

the pain that had curled up beneath your ribs for days loosened, just like that. the weight behind your eyes lifted. your limbs still ached, yes, but something shifted — unmistakably — in your bloodstream. like your cells remembered how to work again. like they’d been waiting for him.

you stared, open-mouthed. because what the fuck.

you tried moving your toes — and felt all of them. you blinked once. twice. your vision wasn’t swimming anymore. the walls stopped melting at the edges. when you sat up, the room didn’t tilt sideways. your head didn’t lurch. your chest didn’t pull tight. nothing throbbed. nothing screamed.

you stared at your hands like you’d never seen them before, like they belonged to someone else. you flexed your fingers. no tremble. no twitch.

what the actual hell.

you ran a quick mental diagnostic, the kind your body had trained you into these past two weeks. 

legs? check. 

feet? check. 

shoulders? solid. 

ears? blessedly unclogged. 

your stomach growled, sharp and dramatic, like it was protesting the way you’d ignored it for days. you touched your forehead, your neck. no fever. no chills. just warm. human. whole.

you were sitting up. fully. like a normal person. and it was terrifying.

because, what in the vampire diaries was this? you weren’t stupid. people didn’t just collapse in a hallway at 7 a.m. and wake up completely cured in a stranger’s guest bed with three unsettlingly hot men watching from the corners of the room like this was twilight fanfiction on crack.

you were hungry. you were confused. and you were so fucking exhausted. because even if your body had stopped screaming, your brain hadn’t caught up. and the worst part? sunghoon was still staring. 

and your heart was still doing that thing — that pulling thing — like it wanted to beat in time with his.

he didn’t say anything at first — none of them did. they just stood there, still and watching, like they were marveling at something sacred. like your ability to sit up without grimacing was some impossible phenomenon they hadn’t planned for. 

and yes, you felt like a miracle too. a tiny one. a quiet one, sitting in borrowed sweatpants and last night’s hoodie, in a room that didn’t belong to you. but now wasn’t the time to feel flattered.

not when three strangers — supernatural or not — were staring like you’d just pulled a sword out of stone.

you cleared your throat. it was the only sound in the room. your stomach growled again, louder this time, and you winced. no one laughed.

finally — finally — sunghoon moved.

his shoulders rose with a quiet inhale, and then dropped again like it physically cost him something. he didn’t step forward. didn’t close the gap between you. he just turned his head slightly, enough to look at you fully now, no barriers.

his eyes were darker than you remembered — not just in color, but in weight. like he hadn’t slept since the last time you saw him. like whatever edge had once made him look untouchable had dulled into something heavier. human, almost. except not. never.

his voice, when it came, was low. steady. practiced. but you could hear it — that thread of something cracked beneath the surface. not regret. not guilt. something older. 

“you weren’t supposed to feel it this strongly.” and just like that, your pulse dropped into your stomach. 

because what the fuck was that supposed to mean?

you blinked. once. twice. your body had just gone from full-system meltdown to sudden clarity in the span of — what? ten seconds? the math didn’t add up. the science didn’t add up.

and now you had a boy — no, a man, a something — standing in front of you, speaking like this was all part of a manual. a protocol.

“excuse me?” you rasped, voice still barely more than sandpaper dragged across metal. your chest felt tight again, but this time from sheer indignation. “what do you mean feel it? feel what?”

sunghoon didn’t answer right away. behind him, niki let out a breath — not a sigh, more like a slow exhale that made you want to throw a pillow at someone.

the other one — terrifying, well-dressed, probably-did-taxes-at-5-a.m. mafia looking guy — finally stepped forward like he was about to explain something official, something devastating.

but all you could focus on was the way sunghoon’s jaw clenched. how he didn’t look away. how he looked like he hated that you were asking. 

and suddenly, you were fuming. not the dramatic, cinematic kind of anger that makes you throw vases and scream into the rain. no. this was worse. it was the kind of white-hot rage that made your hands go cold and your thoughts get sharp. the kind that brewed in the back of your skull like static.

because what the actual kind of fucking sorcery was this? 

you had just woken up in a stranger’s — correction, a vampire’s — bedroom, after two weeks of progressively dying in slow motion, only to be cured by a pair of stupidly symmetrical cheekbones and a statement that sounded like a deleted scene from twilight: the bureaucratic cut.

you flung the covers off with all the rage of a disney villain in her final act. “okay,” you started, voice still wrecked but gaining steam, “somebody’s going to tell me what the hell is going on. and i swear, if the word stabilizing gets thrown around again, i’m going to stab someone with your vintage coat hanger.”

niki winced. the mafia guy blinked like he wasn’t used to being threatened before breakfast. and sunghoon — oh, sunghoon — had the audacity to look guilty.

“no one thought to leave a note?” you spat, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. “a sticky note? a voice memo? a ‘hey, just for your information, you’re about to experience soul-level cardiac arrest, but don’t worry, it’s a normal thing?’”

“we didn’t think you’d feel it this strong,” niki tried again, cautiously.

you narrowed your eyes. “you already said that. say something new or i swear i’ll start singing gospel.”

sunghoon finally looked like he might actually say something, but you were already on a roll. 

“do you people just hang out in designer clothes waiting for humans to drop dead in your hallways? is that your little fun pastime? is that why the gym’s always empty now, niki? were you all just sitting up here like, ‘oh, don’t worry, she’s just experiencing a little metaphysical collapse, she’ll be fine?’”

they all looked at you, quiet. not surprised — no, you weren’t lucky enough to have shocked them — but almost… contemplative.

you stood up, or tried to. your knees buckled slightly, but you powered through, fueled by indignation and a decade’s worth of unresolved parental issues. “i want answers,” you snapped. “and water. probably water first. but then answers.”

sunghoon finally, finally, moved toward you. slow. cautious. like you were a scared animal. or a bomb. (which, okay, fair.)

his voice was robotic, weird when he spoke. “you weren’t supposed to react like this.”

you tilted your head, deadpan. “oh, wow, thank you so much for that astounding medical diagnosis. i’ll be sure to write that down in my death journal.”

sunghoon’s jaw ticked, he seemed in pain. “it means we need to explain. all of it.”

sunghoon sat down.

that, in itself, felt like a betrayal. for a full minute, none of them had moved — like you were something volatile, like one wrong breath might set you off again. but then he finally took a breath and lowered himself into the chair across from you.

it was the way he moved that made your throat clench — careful, controlled, like sitting too fast might shake the ground beneath you.

his expression was unreadable, jaw tight, shoulders squared like this was an interrogation and not a conversation. and then he spoke.

“you’re not dying,” he said first. like he needed that part on record.

you raised an eyebrow. “thanks, doctor. next diagnosis?”

niki let out a quiet snort from where he leaned against the wall, arms folded, one boot tapping lightly against the floor. sunghoon ignored you both.

again, he seemed... weird. robotic.

“what’s happening to you,” he continued, voice low, measured, almost too calm, “is rare. it’s not supposed to happen anymore.”

you blinked. slowly. your brain took the words in like they were pieces from different puzzles. “you mean… like a sickness?”

“not a sickness,” sunghoon said. “more like… a reaction.”

he paused then. visibly debated what to say next. that’s when the third one — the one you now associated with do-not-fuck-around energy — stepped forward. the shorter guy. black coat, buzzed undercut, broad shoulders.

there was a tattoo creeping out from his collarbone, just a sliver of black ink crawling up his neck. when he finally spoke, it was without inflection.

“she doesn’t need the full story yet.”

sunghoon didn’t even look at him. “she deserves to know what’s happening to her.”

niki raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t speak. instead, you locked eyes with sunghoon again and asked, “what kind of reaction?”

he exhaled. “soulmate.”

you laughed. out loud. an ugly, sputtering noise. “are you fucking serious?”

niki grinned. “oh no, she’s reacting like a normal person. i like her.”

sunghoon’s mouth twitched. not a smile. maybe pain. maybe something else.

“it’s not common,” he said, softer now. “not anymore. vampires used to… imprint. or whatever you want to call it. we’d form bonds. it was mutual. chemical. metaphysical. the human would feel it. the vampire would feel it. but it hasn’t happened in decades. not since the accords. not since—”

“humans stopped mingling with your kind?” you asked.

“not since both sides decided it was too dangerous.”

that made you pause. your throat was still dry. your hands clenched the blanket around your waist like it might anchor you back into reality. “dangerous how?”

“for you,” the shorter dude said this time. his voice was razor clean. “not for us.”

niki sighed. “it’s like a hormone overdose. a body-wide meltdown. like your system’s trying to recalibrate to match something it doesn’t understand.”

you scoffed. “and the something is you?”

sunghoon didn’t answer. but his silence did.

and that’s when something inside you shifted. clicked. because even if this sounded like delusional bullshit, your body was nodding along. it made too much sense. the fever. the dreams. the sudden gravitational pull toward a man you’d barely spoken to. the way your pain had vanished the second he’d looked at you.

“so let me guess,” you said slowly, “i’m your little imprint? your cosmic girlfriend? lucky me.”

sunghoon flinched. just slightly. “it doesn’t work like that.”

“doesn’t it?” you asked, voice rising.

and then — the twist.

“you’re not the only one who got sick,” the scary dude said. calm. final.

the room stilled. niki looked up. sunghoon closed his eyes. your breath caught.

“…what?”

“sunghoon’s been sick too,” niki offered, quieter than usual. “not the same way. but bad enough we had to cancel everything. bad enough he couldn’t feed. bad enough he barely stood up until yesterday.”

your mouth went dry. “what does that mean?” you asked, but your voice sounded distant even to yourself — like it had been dragged through water, then filtered through static.

was it too much to know? absolutely not. not for your overactive brain that consumed conspiracy podcasts like candy. but feeling it — sitting here, blanket bunched around your waist like armor, stomach churning, heartbeat crawling under your skin like something foreign — that was the hard part.

this didn’t feel like a reveal. it felt like a slow, rotting realization you hadn’t asked for.

you swallowed, throat raw. maybe it would be better if you passed out again. at least then, you wouldn’t have to process the idea that one of your neighbors — a hot, emotionally unavailable, glacial-faced vampire, apparently — had also been in a near-comatose state because of you.

great. incredible. what a legacy.

soulmate? imprint? some long-lost paranormal bond that now had you sharing symptoms like some twisted long-distance couple flu? no, thank you. return to sender.

you opened your mouth to say something clever — something biting and cruel and devastating — but nothing came. your lips parted and then closed again, your body betraying you in the worst of ways.

your eyes flicked back to sunghoon.

his hands were clenched in his lap. his cheekbones were sharper than usual, like he’d lost weight. there was a vein visible beneath his jaw. and when he finally raised his head to meet your eyes again, the exhaustion behind them wasn’t just physical. it was soul-deep.

“you were the first human i’ve spoken to in years,” he said, voice barely above a breath.

that made your stomach turn.

niki shifted, almost like he wanted to say something, but didn’t.

the mafia looking guy just crossed his arms tighter and stared, waiting — like this wasn’t new to him.

you blinked once. then again. your body still wasn’t reacting the way it should — no more pain, no more fever, no more frost behind your eyes. but your mind? your mind was racing.

“this is insane,” you muttered, because someone had to say it.

“agreed,” niki chirped. “but hey, at least you didn’t throw up. the last one did.”

“niki.”

“what? i’m comforting her.”

you didn’t laugh. couldn’t. your body was still deciding whether to fight or flee.

niki broke the silence first again after minutes of no one breathing. of course he did.

“well, the good news is you’re probably not gonna die,” he said, rocking back slightly on his heels where he’d crouched again beside your bed. “probably.”

you blinked at him slowly. deadpan. your expression alone could’ve been used to file a restraining order.

he raised both hands. “hey. optimism. it’s a dying art.”

from behind him, the man in the coat shifted for the first time. he didn’t look at you. didn’t even acknowledge niki’s running mouth. just turned his head toward sunghoon with an unreadable expression and said, voice like a closing door: 

“she needs rest.”

sunghoon didn’t argue. maybe he couldn’t. there was something off about him now that you were fully awake, fully conscious — something glassy in the way he held himself, like his body wasn’t all the way his.

the man placed a hand on his shoulder, and sunghoon moved. slow. obedient. not like himself.

you watched them go. watched their silhouettes shift through the doorway. neither of them looked back.

the moment the door shut, niki let out a long breath through his nose and flopped — not gracefully — into the armchair near the window. it creaked under his weight. he didn’t seem to care.

“so. fun fact,” he started, adjusting the sleeves of his hoodie. “your new boyfriend? yeah, he’s been high for the past three days.”

you stared. “what?”

niki gestured vaguely, like that explained everything. “inhibitors. cocktail of them. pretty top-shelf stuff. he’s, like, five thousand newtons of vampire strength wrapped in a sculpted jawline, so—” he clicked his tongue, “—we kinda had to knock him out the hard way.”

you blinked. again. “we?”

niki looked pleased with himself. leaned in like he was about to share a bedtime secret.

“took all six of us. and i mean all of us. it was like trying to sedate a tank. even then, he almost won. but we found the right combo. he’s on it now. dulled his receptors, numbed his instincts.”

your stomach curled slightly. “why?”

niki’s smile dimmed. not gone — just quieter.

“because,” he said, “he would’ve come for you.”

you didn’t respond.

he leaned back again, eyes flicking toward the ceiling. his voice, when he spoke again, had that same dry humor, but underneath it — something else. something brittle.

“we had to leave,” he said, almost like a confession. “jungwon-hyung’s family has a camp house. middle of nowhere, no cell service, no risk of you running into him if he… broke through. that’s why the building was dead. we took him far. like, drive-five-hours-and-still-hear-his-teeth-clench far.”

you stared, unmoving. your hands were still clammy against the covers. your chest still felt like someone had scraped it hollow and filled it with something cold.

niki scratched his jaw. “it was either that or lock him in the basement. which, by the way, sunghoon would never let happen. pride and all. so, road trip it was.”

you opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

“don’t look at me like that,” he added, side-eyeing you. “it’s not like we knew this would happen. we don’t do this soulmate thing. not anymore. not since—” he paused, teeth clicking together. “never mind. point is: it’s rare. it’s old. and you? you weren’t supposed to feel it this strong.”

your breath hitched. that phrase again.

“but i did,” you muttered. “feel it.”

niki looked at you. quiet. unreadable for once.

then, almost gently: “yeah. you did and he did too.”

“i honestly thought this was bullshit,” niki went on, scratching behind his ear like he wasn’t casually upending your entire understanding of reality. “jake-hyung was the only one we knew who got tangled up with a human like that. we all thought it was a one-time glitch. but sunghoon? he was even worse. and i think it’s the age, you know? the older they are, the stronger the… pull.”

you didn’t move.

niki shrugged. “sunghoon-hyung is the most powerful among us. has been for a while. not that he brags about it or anything,” he added, eye-roll implied. “but this?” he gestured vaguely toward your body, the bed, the air. “this nearly broke him. we didn’t think—i mean. imprinting is beautiful, yeah, sure. sacred, whatever. but it’s a lot of fucking work. especially when it hits this hard.”

you still didn’t respond. your gaze had unfocused, lips parted slightly, shoulders slumped. and eventually, niki caught on.

“you okay?” he asked, voice gentler now, less performative.

you didn’t answer him. not right away.

because your thoughts had gone quiet. not blank — not numb — just… quiet. like the cold hush of a library, a cemetery, a paused dream. 

you were confused. obviously. angry, too — because what the fuck was imprinting and why the hell did it choose you, of all people? you were a mess. you were a scholarship kid with ramen-induced ulcers and mommy issues. not a mystical blood-linked soul beacon.

but still. somewhere beneath all that static, you felt it: a pinprick of something else. something smaller. softer. 

sunghoon had been sick. sick because of you. 

and not just sick, but fighting it. drugged. dragged across the country just to keep him from getting to you. you’d blamed him, cursed him in your head, built this whole miserable theory of him being cold and detached and cruel — but he’d been hurting, too. maybe even more than you.

niki watched you for a moment longer, like he was trying to figure out what version of you he was leaving behind. but he didn’t press. didn’t tease. didn’t smile.

“yeah,” he said, brushing invisible lint off his pants as he stood. “you should rest. the worst’s over. probably.”

you weren’t sure if that was meant to comfort you or just be vague on purpose, but you didn’t have the energy to dissect it.

he crossed the room with that same unhurried gait — loose-limbed, strangely quiet — and paused at the doorway. “someone’ll be around if you need anything,” he added, voice already softer, like he was already halfway out. “and if you wake up starving… don’t freak out. we left you snacks. normal ones.”

your lips twitched, almost a smile. “thanks.”

“don’t mention it,” he said, then looked at you over his shoulder, eyes gleaming under the low lighting. “really. don’t.”

the door clicked shut behind him with a softness you didn’t expect.

you lay there, for a long minute, staring at the ceiling. the silence in the room was different now — not heavy, not buzzing. just there. a presence instead of a pressure. you shifted under the covers, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, your limbs didn’t ache. your lungs didn’t pull tight. your stomach didn’t twist.

you closed your eyes, and your body let you.

this time, you didn’t dream of anything.

author's note: clap if you find respectful but feral sunghoon hot. yes, i will die on this hill. yes, our couple mught hate each other now but i swear they'll be all cute soon. thank you for reading! send me a request • my masterpost

taglist: @ikeugirly @vixialuvs @hoonprksung @kyunlov @verialuv @sagegreenhairclip @gal821 @nekkodiaries @httpenhoon @questionsdearreader @mynameis-rosie1 @ninistranaut @staygenesblog @stercul1a

[aurorlia]

꣑ৎ　────　doubles !

♡ tags / warnings — vivid memory flashbacks, threesome (M/M/F), light possessiveness, smut — 18+

♡ — You were only there to watch them play. That’s what you told yourself. Just a match. Just two guys who used to be on the same side of your bed—and now? the match heats up—grunts, curses, sweat dripping and you’re not thinking about scores anymore. You’re thinking about that night. The night they stopped pretending you were just someone to fight over. The night they shared you.

♡ taglist — @pittsick @nozhdyved @forgetmenotnympho @lov3lylxvender @museboos

notes ! — this is so short omg !! sorry about that but I wrote this at like 3am .. 😭

all you were there to do was watch a match but it turned out to be way more than that, watching as Patrick and art played doubles against vaguely handsome men from another camp, a friend of a friend but you don’t even pay attention to the actual game because their groans. Their grunts. The curses muttered under breath. The soft thwack of racket against ball, and the way their sneakers grind into the clay. It’s all too much like that night.

That night you don’t talk about. The one the three of you buried under silence like it never happened.

But your body never forgot. And sitting here now, hearing them, watching them .. it’s like being dragged back to it against your will.

It started in a hotel room. You were in Patrick’s bed, legs tangled with his, sharing a drink, watching some late-night interview of Art on TV. Patrick had the remote in one hand and his other on your thigh.

"Look at him," he muttered. "God, he never fucking shuts up." But you were staring. Watching Art on-screen. sweaty, smirking, cocky. You didn’t even realize Patrick was watching you watch him.

His jaw tensed. “You ever fuck him?” he asked. You blinked. “What?”

He turned the TV off.

“I bet he’s thought about it,” Patrick said. “Bet he’d do it if I wasn’t in the picture.” You should’ve denied it but you didn’t.

Because Patrick was already pushing you back onto the pillows, and your heart was pounding with something between fear and curiosity.

“You want him too, don’t you?” Patrick murmured, kissing down your neck, unbuckling your jeans. “It’s okay. I can share. Just once.”

You’d never seen Art speechless, until he opened that door and found you on your knees for Patrick, face flushed, eyes wide. Patrick grinned like he’d won something, even though he was already getting what he wanted.

“Your turn,” Patrick said to him, voice like smoke. “Don’t pretend you haven’t pictured it.”

Art hesitated for two seconds. And then he kissed you.

A ball hits the net.

Back in the present, Patrick groans in frustration, running a hand through his sweat-drenched hair, and the sound is exactly like the one he made that night. head tipped back, fingers buried in your hair while Art fucked into you from behind.

Your breath catches. You shift again, thighs clenched. They’re playing so well today. Too well.

The kind of chemistry they only show when you’re watching. Art’s laughing now, chest rising and falling with exertion, shirt clinging to every defined line of him. He glances toward the sideline. toward you, just once. His eyes darken. Just for a second.

And suddenly, you're back there again. Your body was caught between both of them.

Art’s mouth at your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse, one hand pinning your wrists above your head as Patrick spread your legs wider. Patrick looked up from between your thighs like he was worshipping something unholy. His tongue was slow. Deliberate. Cruel.

“Look how desperate she is,” he’d murmured. “You hear that?” And Art—God, Art had groaned like he’d never heard anything sexier.

“She’s shaking,” Art whispered. “You’re not even inside her yet.”

“I’m making her soft for you,” Patrick said smugly. “You’ll thank me later.” You remember crying out when Art pushed inside—deep and rough. You remember how Patrick kissed you through it, fingers in your hair, whispering filth against your lips. They talked to each other over you like you were a toy they both finally agreed to share.

“You should see her face,” Art had murmured. “She’s gone.” Patrick groaned against your throat. “we’re gonna make her cum so hard, she deserves it.”

and you did, you screamed their names.

They win the match. Or maybe they don’t. You don’t really register it.

They’re walking off court now. Towel-draped, flushed and panting. Art’s mouth is still parted like he’s catching his breath. Patrick’s eyes are locked on you with that look, the one that says he knows where your head’s been this whole time.

He mouths, “Still thinking about it?” And your entire body flushes with heat. You stand slowly, trying to steady your breathing.

Art tosses his racket onto the bench. Wipes his face. Then walks straight toward you. “You coming back with us?” he asks simply.

You open your mouth. Patrick steps in beside him, just close enough to brush your arm. “Or are we going to pretend again?” he murmurs and the memory snaps into full color.

Your knees on the carpet. Art’s teeth on your collarbone. Patrick’s hand wrapped around your throat. Your name said like a prayer. Like a curse. Like a promise neither of them could keep.

You’re already nodding because the truth is, you were never just theirs once.

You’ve been theirs ever since.

[33forthew1n]

ᰔᩚ through the years ᰔᩚ

🏎️❣️ carlos sainz x hülkenberg!daughter 🏎️❣️

SMAU

fluff

synopsis: carlos sainz and yn hülkenberg have been dating since her father and her boyfriend were teammates. here you can see their relationship progress from 2017 to 2025.

WARNINGS:

a/n: let's just pretend that nico is much older than he actually is, y'know fiction or whatever.

⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆⋆⭒˚.⋆

2017

f1gossipofficial

Liked by carloshq, hulkhulkhulk, and 10k others

f1gossipofficial TRENDING #10, #9, & #7 ON TWITTER

TAGS: CARLOS x YN, YN HULKENBERG, CARLOS SAINZ

Yesterday, the F1 YouTube channel released an interview with Renault drivers, Carlos Sainz and Nico Hülkenberg. The topic at hand was ideal types and Carlos Sainz coincidentally described a woman very similar to Nico's own daughter, Yn Hülkenberg.

When asked what his ideal woman looked like he answered, "Blonde, tall, pretty, social butterfly."

Nico was then seen whispering something undetected by the mic that made Carlos blush and look away.

What do you guys think Nico told Carlos? Do you think Carlos was describing Yn?

tagged: @carlossainz55, @hulkhulkenberg, @shehulk

view comments ⬇️

f1fanformula yn and carlos would be such a hot couple 😭

↳ sainzswife definition of bi panic

maxlionlion how much y'all wanna bet they've never even met before 💀

freakmulaone he could be describing millions of women 😭 freaking delulu asses

↳ shehulkfan shhhh let us dream

carlosfangirl55 yuck he would never like THAT girl...

↳ kmaggridterror ur literally an anonymous page bruh stfu

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kymillman

Liked by carlossainzhq, hulkhulkrenault, and 25k others

kymillman FAN SUBMISSION

Today a fan has sent in a photograph of Renault driver Carlos Sainz meeting teammate Nico's daughter, Yn Hülkenberg. They exchanged smiles and a hug.

Do you guys believe the rumors that Sainz has his eyes on Yn? Or are they all rubbish?

Comment below ⬇️

tagged: @carlossainz55, @shehulk

view comments ⬇️

grosjeanshaas wait he's cheesing hard af 😭😭 CUTE

carlossainzgirl paddock rumors suggest that carlos asked for her number...freaking cassanova 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↔️

shehulkdefender i have only known this couple for one day but if anything happens to them i will kill everyone in this room and the myself

sainzlover55 @shehulk carlos saved my grandmother from her burning building 😭 i owe him my life

↳ verstappendefender @shehulk carlos saved my cat from a boiling witch's cauldron

↳ sainzallaround @shehulk thanks for letting me borrow the lambo last weekend carlos

↳ dannyricstache @shehulk carlos saved me from a citywide flood last night 😭😭😭 ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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2018

carlossainz55

Liked by shehulk, hulkhulkhulk, and 300k others

carlossainz55 one year later, the love continues 🖤

tagged: @shehulk

view comments ⬇️

sainzwife might have to retire the user..

shehulk mi amor ❤️

↳ carlossainz55 mi vida 😆

hulkhulkhulk süßes Paar 😇 (cute couple)

↳ hulkpodium imagine ur daughter dating ur teammate 😀😀😀😀

↳ renaultlonso shhhh don't make it awkward 🙄

kmaggridterror she's so cute and...he's there too!

↳ moneysainz this would work if she was dating literally anyone besides carlos 😭😭 cmon now

↳ kmaggridterror God forbid i hype a girl up 🙁

renault cuties!

^❤️ by author

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2019

mclaren

Liked by ynsainzfan, sainzhq, and 800k others

mclaren our representative WAG, Yn Hülkenberg 🧡

tagged @shehulk

view comments ⬇️

shehulk maybe ill have a paddock bestie when norizz mans up and gets a girl 🙄🙄🙄🙄

↳ lando what she say fuck ME for?

carlossainz55 La mas bella 🧡🖤

↳ shehulk 😇

ynsainzfan from renault daughter to renault wag to mclaren wag 😭 girlie's gonna have repped every team by 2030

cs55girlie her and carlos are the cutest 😭

↳ shehulk4eva esp when they take pics w carlos' kid fans 😭😭😭 they are gonna be the cutest parents ever i swear

reyesvdec 😁🧡

↳ shehulk 🥹🥹 love u mama sainz

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2021

scuderiaferrari

Liked by shehulk, f1, and 921k others

scuderiaferrari Happy 25th Birthday to our resident Paddock It Girl 🤩❤️ @shehulk

view comments ⬇️

ynsainzfan who DOESNT love yn? 😍😍

ferrarigirlies happy birthday to the head of the carlos sainz fanclub

shehulk tysm admin 🥹🥹🥹 (look at ur desk for a special surprise tmmrw!)

↳ shehulk4eva sweetest wag ever ☹️☹️

↳ scuderiaferrari love u girlie ❤️❤️❤️

carlossainz55 La cumpleañera mas especial del mundo 😍❤️ (the most special birthday girl in the world)

^❤️ by author

charles_leclerc Joyeux anniversaire, mon ami (happy birthday, my friend)

↳ shehulk merci cha 🙃

lando happy birthday stinky

↳ shehulk 🙄 thanks ig

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shehulk & carlossainz55

Liked by lando, maxverstappen33, and 1 million others

shehulk & carlossainz55 forever and after that 🤍🖤

07.22.21- etched in our hearts for the rest of time

view comments ⬇️

lewishamilton Never seen a couple more in love than you two. You both deserve the world. Congratulations you two 🖤

↳ shehulk thank you so much, lewis 🥹

maxverstappen33 Congrats, mate.

^❤️ by author

lando nobody talk to me 😔 just lost the loml

↳ lando oh and congrats

↳ shehulk 🖕

reyesvdec Felicidades mis amores 🥰 Estoy tan orgullosa de ustedes dos (Congratulations, my loves. I am so proud of you both)

↳ carlossainz55 😘

shehulkfans now the real question is..will yn change her user?

↳ shehulk bffr my last name is much cooler than his 🙄🤍

↳ carlossainz55 not what you said last night, love 😏

↳ ynsainzgirlies need to waterboard my eyes asap

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2023

shehulk

Liked by carlossainz55, lando, and 1.1 mil others

shehulk officially a mrs. 🖤🤍🖤

tagged: @carlossainz55

view comments ⬇️

carlossainz55 Mi esposa 🥰😘😍 (my wife)

↳ shehulk Mein ehemann 🤤 (my husband)

lando i gor sor deunk last nite 😅😇🤣😂

↳ shehulk i tried to tap you out at drink 8 yet u insisted on outdrinking my dad 😅

hulkhulkhulk Aber immer noch ein Hülkenberg, oder? 🤣 (Still a Hülkenberg, though, huh?)

↳ shehulk Immer noch dein kleiner Vater 😆 (Still your little girl, dad)

↳ ynhulkhq only the hülkenbergs could make me cry in a comment section 😭😭

carlosonoros La mejor pareja del mundo 🥂 (the best couple in the world)

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2024

shehulk & carlossainz55

Liked by f1gossipofficial, f1, and 1.8 mil others

shehulk & carlossainz55 Coming soon 👶🏻🍼🏎️🏁

view comments ⬇️

ynsainzfans its been exactly 2 months since their honeymoon 😭😅

↳ hulkpodium the sainz swimmers do NOT wait

f1 's newest paddock baby 🥹🏁

lando bout to be the world's greatest godfather

↳ shehulk who named u godfather of my baby? 🧐

↳ lando ur husband when he lost a bet in 2020 😜

carlossainzofficial Enhorabuena! (Congratulations)

^❤️ by author

maxverstappen1 Congrats

hulkhulkhulk Welcome to parenthood you two

↳ carlossainz55 If I am half the father you are to Yn, I have succeeded 😄

↳ sainzhq SOMEONE BRING OUT THE TISSUES

alexandrastmleux congrats you two 🥹❤️

↳ shehulk thank u lovely 😘

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2025

carlossainz55

Liked by shehulk, hulkhulkhulk, and 2 mil others

carlossainz55 Santiago Sainz Hülkenberg & Lucia Sainz Hülkenberg 👶🏻👶🏻❤️

tagged: @shehulk

view limited comments ⬇️

shehulk already Dad of the Year 🍼🖤

[inbabylontheywept]

Okay so I very unwisely got tumblr because of a girl and things with said girl are confusing af but basically being on tumblr doesn't affect that anymore. I was thinking about getting off of it but I found your posts and they alone are worth staying on for.

I can't figure out how to find other blogs to follow though.

I figure since you're the thing that I like about the site, I might also like the things you like, so i was wondering if I could ask you to share some blog recommendations?

Easiest recomendation is my older sister, @lizardho. Very similar childhood, very similar writing style, if you like my writing you'll love hers too. I consider this her finest piece at present. It's an easy rec. We are incredibly similar people.

If we're doing similar writing styles, me and @foldingfittedsheets often get mistaken for each other. No relation, but again, we do a lot of slice of life work. From all her works, this is my favorite story and this is my favorite comic.

For my standard writers pack, there is teaboot, prokopetz, and gallustromegalus, and derin. They tell a lot of anecdotes and they all have great styles. Gallus is probably my favorite but it's fierce competition and they all come highly recomended. Not tagging them because they have huuuuuuge followings and I don't want to pester them.

For people that I consider significantly underrated: There's @drenamigmo / @drenamigmofridgemagnets . Amazing storyteller. Small body of work publically available right now, but the two stories in this post are just achingly beautiful. They have an AO3 called "aterriblewriter" (I need to give them more shit for that, they are actually incredible) that I check kind of obsessively for new writing. They also write league fanfic, so if that's your thing, I'm jealous. I wish I loved league more just so I can enjoy more of their writing.

I really like @miseria-fortes-viros. She has two stories from Greek mythology that I consider the two finest uses of tumblr itself as a medium. You'll see it if you clickeither of these: This one is about Orpheus and Eurydice, this one is about Icarus. She tells anecdotes sometimes, and this one about a welding class she took is again, fantastic, but it's not her bread and butter, it's just a rare and unexpected treat. You also get to watch her slowly dissolve into madness as everyone with a bad literature take seems to go out of their way to die by her hand.

If you like my earlier fiction works, @spyglassrealms writes scifi that is frankly much better than mine. I followed him to learn about worldbuilding. I stayed for his worlds.

And for my final note: I am not normally a big anime guy, and I generally avoid the stuff. BUT. But. This piece by @hakeism is one of the most bafflingly moving stories I have ever read. One of my favorite cultural changes of the last decade has been a general shift away from irony back into sincerity, and Hakeism writes so incredibly sincerely about absolutely ridiculous things that it warms my heart. They take life seriously, even when it's stupid, because life is always stupid and yet it must be engaged with. The fact that it is stupid is no excuse for refusing to participate in the world. We must, in the words of Fraggle Rock and Ben Folds Five, do it anyway.

[rcmclachlan]

sentences sunday

I've been away for the last few days, but I was tagged by @buckevantommy and @adiprose on Wednesday, by @firehose118 and @apollabarnes on Friday (I wasn't ignoring y'all, I promise) and @chococara25 and @geddyqueer today.

Here's some more from my lawsuit arc alternate meeting AU in which Buck comes to the 217's aid during trivia night:

"So, why's the president of the Weird Insect Appreciation Society sitting alone at a bar on a Tuesday night?" the guy asks, a laugh tugging at his mouth. Buck stares at it, at the way his cheek dimples, and his eyes wander without permission over to the lines coming off the corner of the guy's left eye like sun rays. "You an entomologist or something? That's the right word for it, yeah? Like, a bug scientist."

"I—what? N-No, I'm not an entomologist," Buck says and ducks his head. He knows he's smiling like an idiot and this guy definitely does not need to see that. "I just. I don't know, man, bugs are cool."

The guy's grin softens a little, but the sun rays stay right where they are as he sketches a comical moue of reluctant agreement. "Bugs are cool—they're even cooler when they're not in my house. But hey, in all seriousness, thanks for the assist; none of us would've gotten that one. As a gesture of gratitude, allow me buy you a beer with my shiny new gift card."

With a grin, Buck taps his Coors Light pointedly.

The guy makes a face. "Let me rephrase: allow me to buy you a good beer with my gift card. Actually, if you're feeling brave, the whole crew's hoping you'll join us for a victory round of potato skins."

"Y-Yeah? You don't mind?" Buck wants to punch himself, because the guy might mind now that he can hear just how pathetic Buck sounds. "I mean, we're literal strangers."

The guy holds out a hand the size of a bear's paw to Buck and, smiling, says, "Tommy Kinard."

When Buck was a kid, he read somewhere that the sensation of butterflies in the stomach was part of the fight-or-flight response. It's blood being shunted away from the stomach and into the surrounding skeletal muscles, leaving the smooth muscle of the stomach twitching from the lack of blood flow. There was something about certain hormones being released too, but as he takes Tommy Kinard's hand he realizes he can't remember for the life of him what they are.

"Uh, Evan Buckley." His grip is firm and sure, but Tommy's is stronger, and Buck knows deep in his bones that Tommy's not putting on any kind of douchebaggy show of strength to try and win an unspoken Who's More Macho contest.

Just before Tommy releases Buck's hand, Buck's brain decides it's the perfect time to call up another fun physiology factoid: blushing for no reason is called idiopathic craniofacial erythema.

"So, now that you legally can't shout 'stranger danger!'—" Tommy pauses and politely waits for Buck to finish laughing "—you're more than welcome to join us. No pressure, honestly, but I can promise it'll be better than drinking alone. Safer, too, but that's mostly because we nailed Nico's feet to the floor."

+

No pressure tags: @beanarie, @screamlet, @setmeatopthepyre, @alchemistc, @ambernotember, @liminalmemories21, @leashybebes, @station18908, @dharmaavocado, @newtkelly, and @devirnis (and I'm also re-tagging everyone who tagged me)

[dzvelinaskebiyars]

JEALOUS BOY

I can't stop writing for him these days hah. Tagging @shintaru @hyukwwn @zyart-jpg @sylith dividers cred: @enchanthings

AN: I don't really like what I write recently but, well, still writing during these times can be helpful for writer's block, right?

You didn't even do anything. It was just a stupid game.

A game called Truth or Dare. You were just with your friends — Hyuk was there too. Y'all had bit of alcohol, dancing, singing but got bored of it too quickly.

"Why not play a game? Truth or Dare maybe?"

You remember your friend offering the idea — it was sweet, innocent idea purely for entertainment purposes.

Until it escalated. Maybe the alcohol kicked, maybe they were just joking — you hope they were — when they dared you to kiss your friend, knowing damn well Hyuk was there too.

Obviously you refused, but the very guy who you were dared to kiss had audacity to kiss you on the cheek.

Yeah, everyone just laughed at that time, except Hyuk and you—especially Hyuk. Throughout the entire party, he was so tense, his mood completely ruined.

And that's how you ended up in this situation, at your home, staring at Hyuk from another room.

He was silent, way too silent. Just scrolling through social media — not distant but just...closed off. His eyes were just glued on his phone even though he was just scrolling through your Instagram page, he hasn't even glanced at the banana you gave him earlier.

With a sigh, you gathered courage to talk to him. It's not like he was scary, it's just strange to talk to him now, you're not used to seeing him upset or jealous — it's rare sight to behold.

"Hyuk." You called him, taking steps towards him. He just glanced at you, his cheek getting squished by the pillow.

Without saying anything else, you plopped on top of him. He didn't resist, but let out a deep sigh instead.

"I'm sorryy." You apologized, for second time already. "About earlier...I'm surprised he did that too. I guess he was drunk and thought since it's a game—"

"Bullshit." He cut you off, his voice firm and unyielding. "At the last party, he had strong alcohol tolerance enough to drink 30 glass of wine, but now you're telling me he got that drunk with just one glass he's been sipping entire time?"

He wasn't jealous, not really — okey, maybe a little, but it was just bothering him how you had no problem being friends with a guy who clearly likes you.

You spoke up again. "So you're saying he did that on purpose?"

"Pretty much, yeah." He huffed, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.

The realization coloured your expression — realization that he wasn't just jealous, but upset. Maybe even feeling kind of betrayed.

To be honest with yourself, you aren't exactly the type who's good with words either — pretty much like him. But even so, that didn't stop you from suddenly kissing his cheek.

He was caught off guard and before he could even say anything, you kissed his nose next, then his other cheek.

"What are you doing?" He asks as you kissed his forehead.

"Making it up to you." You answered.

His lip twitched slightly upwards. "You think that's enough?" He questioned you, raising his eyebrow slightly, his muscles much more relaxed now.

"Then how do you want me—"

You couldn't even finish your sentence when he crashed his lips to yours. His kiss was intense, as if he was trying to claim what was rightfully his, leaving you breathless in the process.

His hand cupped your cheek, his right hand resting on the small of your waist. You almost let out a moan, wanting to back away and inhale air already but he didn't let you, instead he kissed you further.

The intensity of this almost made you dizzy but for a moment, it felt like his lips were addictive, stronger than the scream of your lungs.

When he finally pulled away, letting you catch your breath, you couldn't even process when the kiss ended, as if all you senses were messed up due to sudden rush of oxytocin.

You fluttered your eyes open, met by his dark eyes that reflected your face. Though not deeply visible, his cheeks were flushed pink and his breath — messy.

"Just..." He spoke up. "Don't continue talking to him."

"I won't. I'll block him too." You promised and left small peck on his lips.

His lips stretched in genuine smile — finally. Finally he wouldn't get to see that asshole anywhere near you again, he wouldn't have to get territorial over you every single time you met up with your friends just because he was here. But what made him happiest is he got you all for himself once again. And there was no better feeling than that.

"I love you." He suddenly said, his left hand now pushing the strands of your hair behind your hair.

"I love you too, dummy." You declared, lowering your head to his chest, resting your cheek right where his heart is. His heartbeat was fast and bit messy, it was almost chucklesome. He had his cute side, after all.

You passed remaining hours resting on his chest, even though he fell asleep himself. At least he wasn't upset now, nor jealous or tense. Just safe and relaxed. And you swore you wouldn't make him upset ever again.

[axetivev]

— Summary: The heir for the Evergardens, an absolute nightmare since your childhood was filled by nothing but your parents' "love". But now they're gone, the citizens hoped at least, you're better than them and they asked you to capture a thief that had been a problem for years. But oh, how funny that fate made you fall in love with him.

— Warnings/Tags: Reader's last name is "Evergarden", Mentions of child abuse, Non-con Drugging, Use of Aphrodisiac, Masturbating, Mutual Masturbating, Age gap (Hector is 4 years older).

— Words: 3.2k

— A/N: tbh, the making of Hector is inspired by Cipher from HSR, yeah... since I revealed Ji-Yeong, I'll delay the opening request, since you guys interested in him... i hope you don't mind. i don't really have much to say, therefore; i hope you enjoyed this fic !!

— Pairing: Oc!Hector x Male!Reader

Being a king inside of a magical world, filled by fantasy where teenagers fantasize about being a mage, having royal blood, and romance. But this isn’t a novel book. This is what you had to face in full highest quality.

People fantasize having royal blood, but you’d do anything to not avoid it in your second life. Yes—you’re rich but in the other hand, your life meant nothing other then control. Magic was also a thing, obviously. Even if you can technically used magic, but you simply refused. Why use something weak when blades are useable? That alone made conflict in the palace.

Being the future heir for the kingdom was supposed to learn magic and not disappoint their family, that was what your parents would feed you every single day during dinner. But that never you put to ear, blades kept you entertained besides those lectures about how to be a good future ruler for the Kingdom had to learn magic. Still, it never interested you to learn such thing.

Rebellious to the palace’s eyes, but seen as interesting and a possible good ruler to the people in your kingdom. You where known to often run away from the palace during your supposed “training” to play with the kids of the citizens, punishment was what they would use on you, hitting, getting slapped and many more. But does it work? Never!

You remember being sat down as your father angrily lecture you about every action you made—it’s unacceptable especially for the crown prince. It’s boring… so you often gazed at the window inside of the study, your eyes always met with lighting—a zoom so fast it often caught you off guard. The screams of people saying one thing as they chase that lighting; “THEIF!”.

Your father paused mid lecture when you were completely distracted by the lighting. “Evergarden [Name].” Your father called coldly but you didn’t look at him. “Did you even listen to your father!? Are you seriously expecting the kingdom to have a ruler like you? A failure! Absolutely failure!”

“Better off you shut that mouth of yours before you died from old age, old man,” you spoke back, it’s normal for you to do so. You glanced at your father who’s face was red, boiled by anger. “I’m leaving.”

You didn’t even look back as you slammed the study room’s doors. The palace was gloomy as it usually be, you sighed. But that lighting kept replayed on your head, it was fast… and fascinating. You replayed it to keep that imagine on your head; the gold and orange lighting coming from that figure and with a blink, they were gone.

Thieves are bad people… but that scene was cool for your young naïve brain. You don’t know who they might be, but how bad can they be, right? You skipped around the corridors, as the moon shined bright. Even so, you failed to notice that a shadow of a boy creeping to the dark night looking at your figure.

“What a naïve cute little heir…”

Even after years of so called “punishments” that’s just straight up abuse, both of your parents—the king and queen was found assassinated. Honestly? You don’t know what to reach, neither to be happy, sad, or even don’t care at this point. Yes, they both wanted nothing but you to be a good king when they passed, but the things they do to achieve such goal is inhuman.

Everyone thought you’d cry the day they announced their deaths. Truthfully, you don’t feel anything. However, for the sake of reputation. You pulled out your fake tears just to satisfied the kingdom.

The morning of the kingdom was gloomy, sad and empty. That’s what people say, most of your family members mourn your parents’ death, the two coffin was placed closely to each other. You kept shifting on your sit uncomfortably, their faces was mourning. Mourning. Mourning to those two people who had left those marks that’s hard to go, you kept adjusting your black cloth hoping someone wouldn’t noticed quickly that you felt uncomfortable or whatever this is suffocates you.

When the ceremony was over, nobles gave you their sorries for your lost, now. With you sitting on the age of 23 and being the only child, of course you were seen as the next ruler. What else? Their voices haunts you even after you hold a stoic expression during the ceremony; “Don’t disappoint your mother, [Name]. What king cries when they can’t do something!?” “Tsk, what? Crying when I hit your arm? I’ve experience worst! I’m kind enough to go easy on you.” “Failure! You had potential. [Name]. Why did you throw it away just to play with blades!?”

“Hey,” a voice right beside you made you snapped to reality, you turned your head to find a man wearing a hood. “Something in your mind?”

You titled your head, someone asking you about what’s going on in your mind? “You can say… so.”

“Hah, being a heir for this kingdom? This? You serious wanted that?” He laughed, the people around you also doesn’t seemed to care, but his words stuck with you; do you even want to be a king? “Y’know, behind close doors… sooo many nobles are corrupt, and yet. They rather see a man who just wants coins to be executed.”

You just look at this man, absolutely dumbfounded under your stoic expression. He shook his head amusingly as he tossed a coin with his thumb, your eyes followed the gold until it lands on his second hand. He tapped your hand, fisted and on your lap. As if he asked you to open it, you did. And find that same coin on your hand.

“That’s called magic, handsome.” You almost wanted to laugh—but you pressed your lips as you look at the coin. The man stood up as he about to walk away.

“…May I ask your name?” You asked when he then turned at you, a grin spread on his face.

“Hector.”

Inside of your room, your mind lingers to that name. You don’t know what’s up with him, nor even you know how he looked like. But he entertained you, even enough to make you wanted to laugh. It felt nice to feel that after you had to bottle it to a stoic face. Just imagine where you and Hector being actual friends and not just for the kingdom… oh, imagine you two can be more then friends! Just imagine—

—You should stop daydreaming… it wouldn’t happened. That reality slapping you. Life sucks, being a noble sucks, just in a few days you’ll be a ruler for this kingdom. Filled by corrupt minds, who wanted nothing but money… who wanted nothing but power. But thanks to your own parents who’s corrupt, they ran away without consequences. You rubbed your temples, you’ve know this but you can’t do much about it back then, but now… you could. Well, the later you could.

[Hector’s P.O.V…]

“Hey, thief, what’s with you and that heir?” Hector’s friend, Albert sipped the glass of beer in hand. His face was slightly red from being somewhat drunk. “He might look capable, but he’s weak. Can’t learn magic… he—hiccup—he’s pathetic under that stupid face…”

Hector chuckled as he put his leg on top his knee, twirling his own beer. “That’s a bonus! Don’t you think?” He leaned his glass forward, admiring the golden color fizz. “Oh poor Evergarden [Name]… he really faced those shits alone, his parents are dead now. But, does he able to be a better king that stupid old man?”

Albert puts down his glass, Hector rolled his eyes when his friend continued to hiccup. He pulled his glass and practically drank everything in a single go, he pulled his glass up, the reflection of Albert came. But that wasn’t what he was looking for, Hector grumbled as he put his glass down. Maybe looking for the Evergarden heir would be a good idea, he thought as he stood up from his chair.

“The bill is on you.” Hector laughed to himself, he turned to Albert who’s drunken dumb before he speed up—trail of gold and orange soon gone when Hector wasn’t around.

What a poor end to get kicked out by the bar for not paying and getting drunk, and Hector ran away like he didn’t do anything… poor Albert.

“What’s with that face, your highness?” Your eyes flickered to the voice that came from entrance of the study, the same study your eyes met that gold lighting. A servant of yours, Oscar. Loyal to serve your father.

Everything during the ceremony of you becoming king went oddly enough, smoothly. Too smoothly. You remembered everyone—nobles, citizens, and the royal servants all clapped at you the moment the crown was placed on your head. Your face remain unchanged as you gave your speech and everything else you honestly wanted to forget since for the past few days stressed you out.

You sat on your seat, Oscar made his way beside you as he hold a glass of water in hand which bring you suspicion. But you kept your calm demeanor, keeping that unreadable face as he placed the water on your desk, which you barely gave attention to.

“Ah, focused aren’t you?” He teased, You gave Oscar a light glare before focusing back to your papers that’s mostly empty. “How about a glass of water to calm yourself from that cold—face?” Oscar took another glass seemed out of no where. But that’s his magic stuff... you sighed.

“I don’t need your bullshit.” Your words were harsh, but your hand was polite, slowly declining the fancy glass in Oscar’s hand. “Please, leave.”

Oscar looked at you, almost not amused. “Ah, but your father wanted me to make sure his “son” would be a good heir. And not a failure, your highness.” He said, your fingers twitched. Almost as if you ready to punch him in the face.

“Fine, I’ll drink your stupid water.” You took the glass out of Oscar’s hand, without thinking, you just drank the liquid without thinking of the consequences. It’s something that’s in your vein at this point. Your saw him smiling, but his smile didn’t reached his eyes.

After you finish, Oscar was nowhere in sight. You shifted from your seat and gaze to the papers in front of you and get to work. Paper after paper, is life this boring? You didn’t know either asked. What you knew, your father bottled his emotions and finally pour it to his son, you.

The candle across the room was the only thing company you as continued your endlessly amount of work, that. Until a knock came from the window of the study, a pigeon—possibly from someone or some sort. You rose from your seat and opened the window as the bird gave you an envelope, but it didn’t seem to disappear immediately. Strange, since it was a shadow and you expect I’d just go away. Instead, it leaned to your shoulder.

“I don’t have much,” you muttered quietly as you walked to your desk, opening a drawer to take a small amount of safflower seeds and gave it to the pigeon that eagerly ate them. “Is there something going on during my work hours?”

The pigeon looked at you, shaking it’s head as it continues to eat slowly. You chuckled to yourself as you opened the envelope, wrapped in brown paper and a crimson colored stamp. At first glance, you expect it might be a neighboured kingdom. Instead, it was a letter from a citizen. A women under the name “Silvana”.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

ㅤㅤ For our dear King [Name] Evergarden…

Your highness, you may have heard this from word and word… there’s a thief roaming around the kingdom! He had stole many… food, clothes, and many more that we citizens lost.

We hope you’re able to capture him, from the suspects who had saw him told that he had a dark brown hair… we don’t know his eyes but he had a super power. It’s popular to be known as super speed, but they suspected it could be more. Unfortunately, he don’t know his name... We’ll inform you again, your highness.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤFrom:

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSilvana Gunnhildr.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You stare at the paper for longer then you’d thought you’d do. The pigeon was already gone, is it? You didn’t even care to noticed. You already pulled out an empty sheet of paper, trying to break the plans for capturing this thief you knew it’s probably the same one from your childhood. But you wrote the multiple ways you could possibly capture him, even if, he had powers you yourself cannot do.

Papers scattered around the room when you finally noticed the first tall candle was on its way before it died. Tired as fuck is what your body would say, you don’t know how long have you spend juggling both those stacks of paper work and your plan of hunting down this thief. You stood from your chair just to feel a weird feeling that twirling inside of your stomach.

You ignored it, well. That’s what you wanted to do. But you felt your body getting warmer, you clasped your hand to your mouth, your breath was slow but it was hot. A low whimper escaped your lips, it sounds… pathetic. Very pathetic. You don’t know what was in your mind, but you immediately touched your crotch.

Fuck it… you said to yourself as you sink at your chair once more, you shamelessly opened your pants. Your erect cock was already twitching—you felt your body getting hotter and hotter. It’s indeed shamelessly and unethical, but who cares at this point. You grabbed your now weeping cock and stroke it gently.

But no matter what you do, your cock just doesn’t want to cum. Frustration boiled you when you cried out, whining inside of the empty study, you gritted your teeth when you used your second hand to find your asshole almost like it was an instinct. You slowly inserted your digit, stroking your dick and playing with your hole both at once sure is difficult, but you can’t deny that the pleasure was good.

“Enjoying yourself aren’t you?”

You nodded. “Fuck, I can’t cum—” you paused whatever you’re going with the speed of light, you snapped your head to find the man just like the envelope describe; dark brown hair. However, you saw he had golden eyes that just straight up staring at your soul and his voice sounded… familiar too?

“Hello there, handsom—” You didn’t even think twice as you throw your sword at him then stabbed the wall, blood running from the man’s cheek, he stumbled back where the same cheek which bled was close to your blade.

With your right leg, you quickly pinned the man. You use your hands to held your sword, despite the heat still pooling inside of you, the fact that you can still act quick enough to someone disturbing you was scary. But hot—

“…Hector?” That name rolled off your tongue, your guard melted for a split second before your eyes set gaze harder.

Hector was that thief. That thief your people hate. Despised, you… actually liked him? No, stay focus. The thief looked at you, even if you’re the same height, he looked amused as he saw your chest raising slowly, your hot breath clasping with his own, a smirk played along his face. You raised and eyebrow and didn’t even tried to lower your guard.

“You’re red…” He commented, you bit your lip to held back a sound that made you pathetic when Hector’s palm moving down towards your crotch that’s already damped. “…And wet, guess that servant of yours really gave out a strong one. Huh~?”

“How about this,” Hector licked his upper lip the moment your stoic expression slowly melted after you unsuccessfully held back your sweet—sweet whiny voice. “You can’t cum, right? How about a hand, hmm?”

And now, what king wanted to agree to that? Unfortunately you did.

Well, there’s no choice really. You remembered that you had an event going later, and if you can’t cum now, how much of a mess would it be later? Definitely it’s not because you liked Hector.

Hector’s cock if compared to you sure is a difference, it’s scary that for something like Hector needed a cock that big. You bite in to the edge of your gown, Hector’s hand wrapped around your cock and his as he then carefully moved his hand, it was slow. Painfully slow. But you didn’t dare to complain, the whines and low moans was enough to made you sounded pathetic. Asking Hector, a literal wanted thief to go faster would absolutely be shameless.

You can’t see him in the face. Not like this, not with the fact your eyes were watery the moment his thumb rubbing against the slit of your glan. Hector was the one who kept his eyes on you, it was filled by mischief, when his hand was on the very bottom, he used his powers—his stupidly fast hand to go rougher on you.

It didn’t even take a second for you finally cummed—it was everywhere. White spilling to the sofa of your study as you continued to whine. Hector’s hand didn’t stop, even if you cummed. You saw it again; that lighting that mesmerized you even until this point on, even making you failed to realize that you already cummed the second time with a loud moan. That’s where Hector’s hand finally stopped, as his own cum sprout out.

Your legs trembled as you collapsed into Hector, your gown was covered by white so as the sofa. But hey, bonus points since you aren’t horny ask much. And maybe—the

“Your highness~? Hellooo?” Hector’s thumb circled around your cheek that’s still red, you wanted to slap him so much but you didn’t had much energy left. He chuckled at your weak form.

“Shut it…”

“Oh? What’s with that? I thought you’d be submissive longer~” Hector teased you, almost as if he wanted to grilled you so much.

You sighed as you straighten up, but the moment you about to slap him. A low creak came from the door and there it was, a female maid came to your study. Seeing your shocked face, she hesitant to even speak with you.

“You highness, the ball will be held in thirty more minutes. Some mages and other important people are on their way.” She explained, her tone was almost sounded deadpan. You were confused, Hector was with you… why doesn't she react?

Answer; Hector already ran out. The speed of light. You stood up, too fast that your legs trembled, you turned to your maid when you remembered again that you didn’t cleaned everything up.

“G–get… please, give me a moment!” You closed the door, fast. That was… embarrassing. You leaned to the door as you dropped to the floor. Hidding yourself on your knees. Hector… that asshole!!

“Don’t you think you’re a bit too much on him, thief?” Albert, somehow was beside Hector who sat on the grass hill where the Evergarden palace could be seen.

He laughed—a laugh that sounded rich as he stood up. “Noope, ah… such a shame I didn’t get to take anything in that palace,” Hector whined, Albert who didn’t look amused instead walked passed him. “Should I fuck him so—”

“HECTOR WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?”

[angel06babysworld]

CHILDHOOD!RAFE’S KINKS/TURN ON’S AND TURN OFF’S

turn on’s/kinks

➤ Her Wearing His Old Clothes

it’s more than hot—it’s nostalgic. she’ll walk around in one of his old t-shirts or hoodies, sleeves too long, collar stretched, and he’ll remember exactly when he gave it to her. he sees the years in the fabric, and it makes him feral. it’s like she’s wearing their history.

➤ Claiming What’s Always Been His

he waited. years. silently loving her while she dated other guys, called him her best friend, asked for advice about boys that weren’t him. now that she’s his, he’s not quiet about it. he wants to leave marks. wants to hear her say “i was always yours.”

➤ Bratty, But Just With Him

she’s sweet with everyone else—but gives him lip. rolls her eyes. tests him. and he lives for it. because it means she trusts him enough to push. and he’s been dying to push back. she gives him attitude, he gives her a reason to drop it.

➤ Innocent Touch That Isn’t Innocent

she touches him like she always has—hands in his hair, feet in his lap, fingers brushing his when they pass each other a drink. but now, it feels different. it’s not innocent anymore. and when she does it without realizing it? he loses it.

➤ “You’re the Only One” Confessions

he needs to hear it. that no one’s ever kissed her like he does. that no one’s ever made her feel like this. not just physically—but safe. full. his. he doesn’t want to be her first—he wants to be her last.

➤ Soft Mornings in His Bed

sunlight in her hair, her face on his chest, his name whispered like a secret—he never imagined anything could make him feel more grounded than that. she’s always been home. now she’s in his bed, too.

turn off’s

➤ Using “No” to Tease or Test Him

he takes consent seriously. if she ever says “no” or “stop” even as a game, it kills the moment. he shuts everything down. she’s the only one he trusts enough to go soft for—he needs to know her boundaries are real, not bait.

➤ Comparing Him to Her Exes

he waited his whole life to have her. he’s not interested in competing with ghosts. whether she means it as a joke or not, any mention of “better than him” or “you never used to—” makes his blood run cold. he’s not them. he never will be.

➤ Shutting Down Emotionally

if she goes cold, gives him the silent treatment, or acts like she doesn’t care when she clearly does—it tears him apart. he’s known her since they were kids, and he can read her like a book. pretending she’s fine doesn’t work on him. it just makes him panic.

➤ Flirting with Other Guys to Get a Reaction

she doesn’t need to. not with him. he’s been hers since they were teenagers. so when she flirts with someone else—whether to make him jealous or because she’s mad—it feels like betrayal. not hot. not cute. just painful.

➤ Acting Like “Best Friend” Is Still All He Is

he spent years hearing her introduce him as “just my best friend.” and it used to be enough—but not anymore. if she jokes about “remember when we were just friends?” or calls him that in bed? it kills the moment. he’s hers now. and he needs her to say it like she means it.

tags: @amelialovesrafe @alyisdead @illumoria @blissfulbutterfliess @sydneysslove @sc04 @matthewswifeyy @meetmeintheemeraldpool @icversvoid @honeyinthesummer @dolli333 @lolabunnyworldss @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @rafessbaby

[fligniuz]

Headcanon request: cuddling with clingy clingy clingy Luigi

clingy/velcro boyfriend luigi headcanons

warnings : sfw, very fluffy, decided to combine these asks since they were similar ^_^ i hope you both don’t mind!

tag list : @mangionebabymama , @mangobabygirl , @jenisaswift13 , @mangionesdaisy , @iinfinitelimits , @daydreamingwithluigi , @mrs-cactus69 , @straw8berry , @bean-is-reading , @luigis-wetdream , @difensore-del-popolo , @contrarianshitstan , @lilbadblueeee , @hiscalliope , @luiluvr , @mangionesdoll (comment to be added!)

☁︎ˎˊ˗ sends good morning + goodnight texts every day without fail

☁︎ˎˊ˗ likes to lay on your chest so he can hear your heartbeat, or he’ll rest his head between your thighs and lean back on your stomach

☁︎ˎˊ˗ has dumb nicknames for you… “my cinnamon apple”, shnookums, hot lips, babycakes. the list goes on and it will never stop because he is literally always thinking of new ones to tease you with

☁︎ˎˊ˗ random hug ambushes

☁︎ˎˊ˗ will pretty much ALWAYS fall asleep when you’re cuddling. it’s just second nature for him. he’s never felt more warm and at ease than he does in your arms

☁︎ˎˊ˗ uses the “sorry my partner said i can’t go” excuse even when you absolutely, without a doubt, undeniably said he can and totally should go. he just wants to be around YOU all the time!!!

☁︎ˎˊ˗ ^ his friends know full well that he is the obsessed one btw

☁︎ˎˊ˗ you guys might live together…but i know for SURE luigi will invest in those synced bracelets that long distance couples get, just so he can tell you that he loves you when he’s away <3 he’d want one of the bond touch ones because it’s sleek and looks similar to his fitbit

☁︎ˎˊ˗ hand kisses!!! cheek kisses!!! eskimo kisses!!! lots and lots and lots of kisses💚💚

☁︎ˎˊ˗ follows you around like a lost puppy. it’s the most pathetic (adorable) when you’re in a store together😭just stands behind you in sephora with his hands clasped in front of him that way he always does, looking around awkwardly while you swatch lipsticks on your hand

☁︎ˎˊ˗ cherishes the sound of his name in your mouth

☁︎ˎˊ˗ ^ also: melts when called baby or honey :3

☁︎ˎˊ˗ will find absolutely any way to bring you up in conversation, constantly wants to show people pictures of you, gets jittery and eager when people ask questions about your relationship

☁︎ˎˊ˗ prefers to be the big spoon, but really loves it when he gets to be the little spoon!! he likes how safe he feels with your arms hugging his chest and your face buried into his neck

☁︎ˎˊ˗ “where are you going? can i come with you?”

☁︎ˎˊ˗ god forbid you’re not holding this man’s hand in public for ONE second…he’s like a dog with separation anxiety. he tells you he feels lost without you. you tell him he’s a drama queen (he is)

☁︎ˎˊ˗ whines when you leave the bed to use the bathroom at night, and waits very very patiently for you to return

☁︎ˎˊ˗ ^ “i have to pee!” / “pee quickly🥺🙁”

☁︎ˎˊ˗ yaps a lot when you snuggle with him, just because he feels so comfortable and free to be himself when he’s with you!! he’ll tell you all about some new nerdy thing he’s doing or a video game he’s been playing recently, rubbing your back all the while

☁︎ˎˊ˗ ideal date consists of bed + you + some good food…he’s quite easy to please :-)

☁︎ˎˊ˗ has a scrunchie or some other little item of yours that he carries around for when he’s missing you (see why he needs the touch bracelet now???)

☁︎ˎˊ˗ likes having his face cradled

☁︎ˎˊ˗ if you want to make clingy luigi the happiest boy in the world, play with his hair <3 he will let nobody else but you do it. scratch his scalp and the nape of his neck, twirl his curls around your finger, pet his head—he’ll fall asleep, but not before murmuring about how much he loves you

^ divider by cafekitsune

[lilolebambi]

I MISS YOU, I'M SORRY. . . . C.S.

tw: mentions of self harm.ᐟ

It hurts. Mentally and physically, feels like your heart has been ripped out of your chest. It's been a month—maybe a little more. But no matter how long you wait for the day for you to wake and think of Chris and not feel anything, it never comes.

It was good, whatever you both had. And you miss it dearly, even with your friends telling you that he wasn't worth it. That you'll find someone better.

You lost a part of you. How could they just say that? Chris was the first guy you've been vulnerable with in years. You showed parts of yourself to him that you wanted to lock away from the world because it was him.

You want to rip your hair out, claw at your eyes, tear at your skin—anything that will temporarily get Chris out of your head.

You're so tired, so drained. It's a cycle.

Smoking to forget, drinking to numb the pain, harming yourself just so you can focus on you.

The entire situation makes you want to disappear off the face of the earth—and you'd say that you would go back in time. Undo every text, every photo you ever sent, every cute name that you called him... but it's Chris.

You're laying on the floor curled into yourself, sobbing as you go through your old texts.

You wonder if he does the same thing, wonder if he even thinks about you anymore or if you're just being insane and delusional over a guy that doesn't even want you anymore.

You were doing good. Barely glancing at his instagram account that you can't seem to unfollow—not adding to the pinterest board you made for the two of you when you first broke up, avoiding the playlist that you made when you got high that one time and you were thinking of him.

But then it hit you. Just like that, like a knife straight through your heart. You're never getting him back. Chris, the only guy that ever truly understood you. You're never getting him back.

You sob harder. Phone dropping from your hand as you curl deeper into yourself, sobs, and hiccups falling from your lips.

"It's for the better. If the universe wanted you guys together, you would be."

You remember vividly your friend telling you, and you remember just how vividly you freaked out then.

Just how you're freaking out now.

Hands clutching and grabbing at your shirt, kicking at the floor like a little kid.

You're not sure if you'll ever get better. But, you're sure if you do, you'll just end right where you currently are. Wanting someone you can't have.

nothing happened in the way i wanted, every corner of this house is haunted. —gracie abrams.

a/n: i still love you, i promise.

tags 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚: @inspiredangel @domizmez @drewswife @strnilolover @sirensdollesque @courta13 @mattslilies @sturns-mermaid @bluetalia @pair-of-pantaloons @y2kstarr @sugarraez @sweeethrt @moond0llie @ambi-squirrelly @wastelandzella @applecidersturniolo @riasturns @iloveduckssm @oopsiedaisydeer @sturnsflirt @cayleeuhithinknott @h3arts4nat @angelyearner @pink1man @mi-co-uk @slvt4subchratt @tezzzzzzzz @chrisbratt333 @izzylovesmatt @chrisowenmuncher

[seungiesz]

‧₊˚.FACE 2 FACE! bang chan x reader smau

4. the wank bank

“holy shit. jeongin i’m actually going to kill you!” you screamed as you shoved him forwards as he was making his way to the couch.

“a boy can’t make a joke on twitter anymore?” he asked, picking up the pace to avoid getting hit by you once again.

“first you’d have to be funny,” felix chimed in from where he was in your kitchen.

“anyways! back to important things,” jeongin said as he rolled his eyes and took his seat on the couch. “i’m gonna connect chris’s stream to the tv”

felix and you walked through your kitchen to join jeongin on your couch. at the same time you all heard the doorknob jiggle, causing you all to look over.

“daddy’s home!” hyunjin announced as he and seungmin walked into the apartment.

“great, now shut up so we can put big daddy chris on the tv,” jeongin responded.

“never call him that again,” seungmin begged as he made his way over to the couch, simply wanting to check out this ‘chris’ guy you were all watching.

and right on cue, jeongin was able to connect the stream to the tv and the five of you were finally able to see the chest of a man on the screen.

“alright guys, i’m gonna get started. today we’re gonna be making some simple spaghetti” chris started, as he moved back from his camera, revealing the apron he was wearing over a black crew neck and a pair of grey sweatpants. 

“ugh he has such a boyfriend fit on, i need him” you say grabbing onto jeongins arm and shaking it.

as chris eventually started to get further on into the cooking process, he began reading and answering questions from the chat.

“what’s my favorite game? i don’t really play any like that. maybe one day ill try it out,” he answers as he strains some pasta.

“y/n look it’s a sign, you should game with him!” jeongin pointed to the screen and looked at you.

“speaking of games, do you know the streamer ‘y/n’?” chan reads from his chat, causing all of you to freeze for a second. “yeah i’ve heard of her, saw some of her streams, she seems sweet, and she’s really funny.”

“holy shit chris actually knows who i am!” you freaked out, bouncing your leg out of anxiousness.

he continues on the stream, “i would love to collab with her, if she ever gave me the chance, she has this presence that kind of draws you in”.

you and jeongin are beyond fangirling at this point. felix and hyunjin just staring in shock, while seungmin is just laughing at the whole situation.

“i mean, it’s not like i’ve gotten the chance to talk to her. i guess i just kind of scare her away. you guys think if i dm her, she’ll just type back ‘ahhhh’?” chris giggles as he jokes around with his viewers.

seungmin just laughs harder, “oh he violated you. this is amazing. he might be my new favorite.”

“min, you’re so close to getting kicked out,” you warn him, causing him to only continue laughing.

from the tv you hear, “if i get 10,000 subs, i’ll dm her and ask to collab,” you freeze again. hopefully no one would actually do it, right?

you see a little animation pop in on the screen:

user jeongINyourmom gifted 10,00 subs

you slowly turn your head to the side, to see the culprit himself holding his phone, “yang jeongin i’ll actually kill you”.

“i’m just tryna help a girl out” jeongin puts his hands up in defense, barely hiding a smile on his face.

before you even got a chance to answer, you feel your phone go off. you look at the tv before checking it, only to see chris holding his phone up to the screen and showing his viewers that he did in fact dm you.

<<previous || series masterlist || next>>

tags=@atsumiez @camixiez @christ4ls @darling-eos @idiotmaterial @burntbag @iovemeorleaveme @hinanitiram @threevracha @nujeskz @inniesbestie @0sunshinecryptid0 @atinyniki @jiniretsleftear @skz8riley @otterluver05 @strawberry1143 @casewonnie @hannieslovebot @babigriin @yxna-bliss @akindaflora

[billthedrake]

THE FRAT HOUSE (PART THREE)

I leaned into Mike's body. I swear I'd already met twenty Mikes in this town. This one was way hot, on the older side in his early 40s but kind of looked young for his age. He had dog tags around his neck and had that Army or ex-Army look, hair still buzzed. Though maybe it was macho drag.

"He's good right?" he asked as he looked up from his boyfriend, Colin, who was slowly sucking my dick.

It was a great way to kick off a week at the beach.

I nodded. "Oh yeah. I don't even really like blow jobs."

He shook his head and gave me a deep laugh. "What dude doesn't like blowjobs?"

Mike leaned in. Our lips touched and parted. Dude's tongue slid in.

I moaned into that kiss. This was actually my first threesome, and I felt the thrill of Mike's strong hand wedge into my asscleft, rooting for my asshole with as much finesse as he had kissing me. Which was not a lot.

Colin pulled off and was now attacking his partner's dick. I leaned back and watched, and I think I gasped when I saw that cute blond pup deepthroat that hog like it was nothing.

Mike watched with a leer and looked up. "He can suck us off if you like, stud, or...." His hand hadn't left my ass.

I was a little buzzed from the bar, so it took me longer to pick up on the dynamic. Colin was the bait, and I was the catch.

"If you go easy," I said, which brought a smile to Army Mike's lips.

It wasn't just me being coy. I'd spent the last month trying not to be a whore. After my housemate and friend Alex topped me, I'd been horny as hell. Getting dick only made me crave it more, you know? I went on Grindr and found one top. He was a good lay, it was fun. But he was in an open relationship and probably wasn't my dating type anyway. Since then, nothing.

I was torn. Part of me wanted to go out and sleep around. Get Charlie Kenner out of my system, and just enjoy being 25 and desirable as fuck. The other part of me looked down on dudes who did that. Catholic guilt dies hard, and I still hadn't shaken off my conservatism as a closeted jock.

Now I was pulling Colin up for a kiss while Army Mike circled behind me, already lubing up my hole and teasing it.

****

Alex offered me the spare room in the beach rental. Charlie had originally planned to come but had backed off. A cut me a deal, payback for helping him with the home improvements around the house. I think it was also the gay big bro figure looking out for his little bro. Getting me out of my funk.

It's what I needed. I'm not a beach guy, but that first day on the beach I was surrounded by a fuck ton of hot guys. Gay guys, buff guys. Skewing older than my type maybe, but a range of bodies from great to perfect. I decided I was a beach guy, all right.

We went out for after beach drinks. Dinner. Drinks and dancing in the evening. We were two houses of guys who traveled together and hung out together. Me, A, my housemate John, and Zach and Daniel in one house. In the other house was Kevin Mulvaney, our hockey teammate Drew, and some other couple I didn't know - Randy and Will.

I didn't dance, other than the white guy shuffle at weddings. But this very cute guy my age and my height caught my eye. Blond, cute as fuck, he reminded me of one of my fraternity brothers. He introduced his partner. Oh well, but Mike's eyes were on me like a wolf, too. They dragged me to the dance floor. I went. They danced up against me, one then the other, then both. We kissed.

I decided then and there I was gonna go wild this week.

****

I tried to be quiet when I walked into the rental house after hooking up. Mike wasn't a great top, he's entered too fast and it took me a while to start to enjoy his dick. And he dropped some "bitch" stuff that was a turnoff. But it didn't matter. I decided loved having a threesome. Colin had sucked me off while I got plugged from behind. And just connecting physically with other men like that, spontaneous and no-strings, was exhilarating.

There was noise coming from A's room. Fucking, muted sex cries. Good for him, I laughed to myself. I slid into my bedroom and closed the door. I had the small room. Like tiny, just room for a double bed and little else. I didn't care. I was in love with this place.

****

The guys teased me the next day. They'd seen me go off with Mike and Colin and had seen me grind on the dance floor. I had a way of feeling self-conscious, but I also knew that's why they teased me.

Kevin had done a 180 since he'd lived in the Frat House, as I affectionately called Alex's place. Kev and I caught up on the beach, sitting side by side on the big towels laid out. He was also fair complected and joked about needing the sunscreen. We even applied to one another. It was flirty in a fun way, but no real edge there. He'd moved on, I think. He was telling me about a guy he'd been on dates with and wondering why he always second guessed himself. I had ideas, but who was I to give dating advice to anyone?

After a while Kevin went to swim. I begged off, just too damn cold.

I ended up napping. I'd have to pace myself if I was gonna party all week. But the sun felt good and I dozed off.

A voice woke me.

"You're getting red," he said.

I looked up and there was my housemate John, getting up from under his umbrella and picking up his lotion. "Want me to reapply?" he asked. "You might want to flip over anyway."

"Yeah, thanks," I said.

If there was any revelation I had from this trip it was that John Harris had a smoking hot body. Not hunky-big like Charlie's or jacked like A's or beefy like Kevin's. John was pure Crossfit-looking strong and toned, sinewy shoulders, and thick arms. He was completely waxed for the summer and wore preppy patterned mid-length trunks that were out of place at a gay beach. They looked right on him.

Army Mike from the night before had big hands. But John knew what to do with his. I'm pretty sure my housemate wasn't making the moves on me. But, well, some guys just have the Touch. John was making me hard with his.

"There," he said, after a final rub and pat. "You can get under my umbrella if you want."

"Probably a good idea."

I was still getting to know John. I always thought of his personality as quiet and shy, but nice. I still had that assessment. He did some sales job for high-end home finishings. He admitted he'd always wanted to be an architect but his parents made him study business instead. "Of course my first boyfriend was an architect," he said with a smile. "Only I was too jealous of his job."

He was getting out of a long-distance relationship, and I told him about the background I had with Charlie.

"Sorry, Brian," he said. To the other guys, I could be Powers or "Bri." John always called me by my full first name.

"I'm still figuring out how gay dating works," I said.

"Let me know when you find out," he said with a smile. He was about three or four years older than me. "You're having fun, through, right?"

I wasn't sure if he was referring to last night's hookup or in general. Either way, the answer was the same. "I decided I was gonna let loose this weekend."

John looked around. "Good place for it. I may try to get out of my shell while I'm here. Derek was going to come out and join me, but that didn't work out."

I didn't want this to get into a bonding session over our break ups.

"What does getting out of your shell mean to you?" I asked. I was trying not to flirt too hard, and it was probably a question I'd ask Zach or any number of friends.

He laughed. "I dunno. I'm not get-my-dick-sucked-on-the-beach kind of wild, you know?... but I just wanna be open to experiences, you know?"

I did.

Our eyes connected for a second, and fuck that attraction was there. I didn't want Charlie Part Two, where I dated a housemate, and I didn't want Kevin Part Two, where I fooled around with one and dealt with the fall out later.

Thankfully, John averted his eyes shyly and chuckled. "You must get a lot of attention," he said, looking out at the waves.

"Enough," I said. "You must, too." I dared to scope out his body next to mine. "You got a killer bod, dude."

"Thanks," he said, looking back at me. "That's a recent development." He explained. "I made a new years resolution three years ago I was gonna go for the body I wanted."

"Who the fuck keeps new years resolutions?" I teased.

He looked at me and smiled. "I know, right?"

"That's awesome, man."

"I guess deep down I still feel like the scrawny kid, you know?"

I didn't have that issue, really, but I wasn't going to tell him that.

Anyway, just then, Kevin and A came up, dripping wet and grabbing their towel.

"How's the water?" John asked.

"Terrific," Kev said. "You should get in."

I watched John get out from the umbrella and toss aside his sunglasses. He was half way down to the water when I decided to follow him.

But as he jumped in and started dunking under and wading in the swells, I got in up to my knees and turned back.

It was too fucking cold.

****

I was sunburned of course. Not too bad, but I felt tired when we went out that evening. I got a second wind, though. I hung out mostly with Zach and Daniel and Drew. I think people thought we were two intergenerational couples. But that was OK. A lot of our talk revolved around the "daddy" type and the appeal to younger guys like Zach. I wasn't immune exactly, but it just wasn't my main thing. Still as we talked, Drew and I traded eye contact more than once. We'd hooked up a couple of years before, just a one time thing.

I had a feeling it was going to happen again. Just reading him and his eye contact. I'd enjoyed sex with Drew before, and in general he was a good guy. The perfect antidote to Army Mike, not coming on too strong.

We were low key in exchanging deeper looks. There's this thing where sometimes you can flirt with friends without being too serious, and maybe that was happening here. Besides nothing serious was gonna happen with Zach and Daniel there.

Drew talked a bit about turning 50 and the good and bad that came with that, and his goal to retire early.

"That's one of the hard things with the age gap," Daniel chimed in. "We're not going to be in sync when it comes to stuff like that."

Zach quipped, "You're not gonna be my kept househusband, babe?"

Daniel shot him a playful middle finger. "You can't afford me, honey."

"That's true," Zach said.

Zach and Daniel called it an early evening, at least early by vacation standards. I was this close to going with them, since I was tired, too. But I wanted to see if anything would play out.

Indeed, Drew and I flirted some.

"You've changed some," he said finally.

"How so?" I asked.

"You seem to know what you want, or at least know to go for it."

"What do you think I want?" I teased.

"To get laid this week."

"Is that not what you want?"

"I want to forget I'm fucking 50."

I patted his back. "You're a DILF and you know it."

"Thanks," he said. "Wanna go fool around?"

We went to his place. It was nicer than mine, the house and room. We kissed. Not romantically, but like we were play-acting romance. I missed it, and I'd learn Drew did too. We swapped oral and made out and finally 69ed. Drew's body was just as toned and DILF-y as I remembered it.

"Thanks, Bri," he said as he lay back against the headboard, naked and cock soft. "That was fun."

"It was," I said. I was pulling my shorts back on. It might have been fun to sleep in his bed, but I didn't want the gossip.

"I'm gonna miss you guys next year," he said.

"What? You're moving?"

He shook his head. "Not doing hockey this year. Blew my knee out. I figure I don't want a replacement before 60."

Man, the aging thing had hit him hard, but the knee thing sounded like it sucked. "You'll be part of the gang, though... if you want."

"Yeah," he said. There was something about his tone that said maybe he'd move on.

****

I got a run and a workout in the next morning. I stayed out of the sun mostly, though I hung out more with John under the umbrella. And before drinks, I headed back to the house early and napped to catch up on some rest.

Going out was a blast. I decided I wasn't going to hookup. But I sure got a ton of attention. I ate it up, and I made an effort to mingle and not just cling to Zach and Daniel.

I saw Colin and Army Mike. They were part of a gaggle of guys from another city. I thought of saying hello but figured that was silly. Colin did see me and flashed a smile my way and a wave before turning his attention elsewhere.

Guys said hello, some came up to me. Two things I'm not good at are flirting with strangers and gay humor. So I leaned into the jock thing, talking to these guys like they were my college buddies or teammates. I got some ribbing at first, but I stuck to it, almsot as an experiment. Crazy thing is, it worked. I had a bunch of conversations and got a couple of numbers.

"Someone's gonna get a big ego," Zach teased as we walked to the restaurant.

"Come on man, I've had a shitty year dating. Give me this." It was in a joking tone but true.

"All right, Powers, just this once," he smiled. I do think Zach vicariously enjoyed me hooking up with guys. He and Daniel were monogamous and happy, but he'd had his single days, too, and missed the hunt.

I danced that night. Not well, but I just got smashed and enjoyed myself. And stumbled home, alone. I was happy.

****

Alex had been kind of missing for that first half of the week. I think maybe he'd found a dude he'd connected with. The second night out he'd gone off on his own, and on the third he stayed in watching a movie.

"You sure you don't want to go out, A?" I asked him.

He looked up with his sexy green eyes and flashed a smile. "I'm good, little bro. Just wanna enjoy some downtime, you know?"

But by day 4, the old Alex Ramirez was back, playing a competitive game of paddle ball at the beach, hitting happy hour with his hard seltzers, showing off his shirtless, jacked body. And he was in a social, talkative mood.

It was the day when we felt like a true posse. Nine dudes hang out and having a great time. I was the youngest, with Drew, Daniel, and that couple Will and Randy the older set, all at least 40. I was starting to enjoy the jokes thrown my way and was even getting into the catty gay humor of Will and Randy.

At some point, A went to get me another drink. I switched to hard seltzer, but I had to pace to keep from getting too sloshed. It was still only 6 o'clock.

"You having fun, little bro?" he asked.

"God yeah, A," I said. "Thanks for making this happen for me."

His hand rested on my back. Friendly and yet sensual. My housemate and I hadn't done anything sexual since we crossed that line a month ago. But the sexual attraction was still there and still mutual.

"It's nice to have some young eye candy in the gang," he said with a wink. His hand traveling lower.

The booze was relaxing me for sure, and A's hand felt very welcome. His touch was even making my nipples stick up in my T-shirt. My guard was down, which is why I said, "The House Bottom, bro?"

That caught him by surprise, but his smile came back. "I thought the idea offended you, little bro."

I shook my head. "Maybe at first, but I'll admit, it's been an inspiration some nights." I held up my hand in a JO motion, copying what Alex had done when he first mentioned the House Bottom idea. I hadn't really fantasized much about it, but the idea had stuck with me.

Alex leaned in and put his mouth to my ear. "Maybe you can pick the next housemate, little bro." We'd finally fixed up the fourth bedroom so A could rent it out. "Pick out a hot top for that hole of yours."

"Oh fuck," I hissed. It was wild fantasy, but A had a way of making it seem real.

He smirked when he pulled back.

Just then some guy came back. "Hello Muscles," he teased, running his hand up Alex's meaty bare torso, before flitting away.

Alex and I both laughed.

****

Dinner was a casual bite. I was hungry and scarfed it down. I stuck with soda water the next round when we went out for drinks. By 10, when Kevin and the other house were revving up to hit the club, Zach and Daniel begged off, saying they were going back to the house. They were in a very physical and affectionate mood, and I had a good idea they were eager to go have sex. Good for them.

Alex looked at me briefly, and then spoke up that he was gonna head back too. I took the bait and said I'd see the guys tomorrow. Hell, maybe sex was gonna happen with A, or it wasn't. Either way, some low-key bro time sounded perfect.

Alex must have been thinking the same thing, because as Zach and Daniel went to the privacy of their bedroom, A pulled out two seltzers and guided us out to the deck.

The air was cool, but I was loving just being here.

"You got some sun, Bri," Alex said.

I knew I was a little sunburned. "You always tan, fucker," I teased.

"Thank my Daddy," he said. I knew Alex had a lot of resentment about his father, so it was cool he was in a lighthearted mood that night.

"I'm definitely coming back here next year," I said, changing the subject. "Even if I have to save up."

"We'll work something out," A said. There were two sides to Alex Ramirez, one a money-savvy landlord who was fixated on building equity, the other a guy who liked to be generous with his friends.

We talked about general life stuff. I admired that A had his shit together and was a homeowner. I was saving money, but it'd probably be my 30s before I got real serious. Right now, I was just doing the career ladder thing and enjoying my 20s.

We talked about guys. Alex definitely had a thing for twunks, like young, college aged dudes, but he also realized maybe he didn't have the healthiest dynamic dating them.

"Maybe I need to expand my type, bro," he said. Then, "You think you could date a guy who's not a hockey dude?"

"Probably," I said. Then, "I don't know." A was perceptive. It wasn't just that Charlie had been my last boyfriend, it's that other than being into sex with guys, hockey was kind of my identity.

He laughed. Alex had a sexy laugh. "I just felt bad for that poor kid....Colin?"

I was caught off guard because a Colin had sucked my dick that week. Then it clicked. "Oh, Connor."

"Yeah, dude. Him. He was crazy about you."

"I know," I said. "I kinda feel bad about that."

"It happens, bro."

Just then the door opened, and John stepped out. He was in a "gay club" attire that seemed out of place on him. Super tight t-shirt, Chubbies shorts, and designer sneakers. If John dressed like that more, I would have noticed his rockin bod earlier.

He had a plastic cup in hand. John was a vodka tonic kind of guy. "Am I interrupting anything?" he asked. Perhaps he'd noticed A being close and flirty with me earlier.

"Nah, bro, come join us," A said.

"Decided not to stay out?" I asked.

John shook his head as he took a seat. "Wasn't feeling it."

A grinned and teased, "What's with the Chelsea kid get up, bro?"

He blushed. "I dunno, man. Figured I'd try to fit in, you know?"

"I like that preppy shit you got going on, John," I said. "Looks good on you."

"See? You're Powers-approved, buddy... doesn't get any better than that."

We talked a little and got a report. John was surprisingly shy when it came to pursuing guys. "I tried to talk up a couple guys, but I definitely don't have game," he said, laughing at himself. He took a sip of his drink and added, "Figured I'd come back here and see if anyone was on the apps."

"How long has it been since you've gotten laid, bro?" A asked with some real concern.

He laughed and shrugged. "Maybe 3 months. It's been a while."

"Fuuck, dude." Alex said. "Too long."

John kind of relaxed into A's easy going vibe. "Yeah. I need to get laid this week, for sure."

A looked my way and winked. "Well, Bri here's thinking of becoming the house bottom. Maybe he can help out."

I might have acted like a deer in the headlights, but that didn't compare to John's nervousness. "What do you mean?" he asked softly.

"Just a crazy idea Bri and I had," Alex explained. "He's a horny bottom bro, and could use some men to help him out."

Leave to A to make this happen. I had a chance to back out, or to say fuck off. Make it a joke. But I'd gotten prepped before going out and being around both these guys... yeah, the idea of making it with them was very appealing. My inner itch was kicking in.

I looked John in the eyes. "It's weird, right?" I asked. "But it'd be kind of hot.... if you were into it."

"Jesus, Brian, you're crazy hot," John said, his brown eyes getting clearly excited. He looked over at A. "You guys, um, done this before?"

Alex nodded. "Just once. Powers's ass is incredible, bro. You should try it bro."

A was laying it on thick, but his praise was getting me turned on.

"You should, John," I said. I was now enjoying being the hunter in addition to being the prey. "No strings, no expectations. Just dudes getting off."

He smiled but was clearly still shy. "Like, now?"

"Why not?" I teased. I stood up and undid my shorts. I had a jock strap on and turned to show off my ass. I flashed the guys for maybe five seconds then pulled up my shorts again.

"Fuck!" John hissed.

"Nothing like hockey ass right?" A said with a leer. He pawed at his crotch now.

John stood up. Very horny, in a way his mild-mannered personality didn't lead me to suspect. "Is Alex gonna watch?" He was stepping toward me, and tentatively reaching out to feel my chest. John was about 6 foot even and in his tight T-shirt I could make out the tight, sculpted brawn.

My mind flashed back to my first day here, and how much I enjoyed the threesome. "If it's OK with you, bro."

"Sure," he hissed. Then he leaned in and kissed me. John Harris could kiss. An easy approach his slipped his tongue inside and softly moved his lips.

"I wanted to do that at the beach, Brian," he said.

"I did too," I admitted.

Now A was standing up. That big boner in his shorts as he stepped up to us. "So... you ready to be the House Bottom, little bro?" he asked.

"Yeah... only Kyle's not here," I teased. Kyle White was our other housemate.

A chuckled. "White would fuck you in a heartbeat, bro. You know that, right?"

I didn't. And I wasn't sure if Alex was just doing horny sex talk to get me going. I turned to John. "You OK with this?"

He grinned. "New experiences, right?" he smiled. I kept his eyes on me as he reached down and undid those chubbies.

"Whoa, Harris went commando," Alex teased.

I looked down and there was a nice piece of uncut cock standing straight up. Thick and meaty, maybe shy of seven inches. John Harris had a nice tool.

I gave the man another kiss, hornier than the first and then playfully patted his hard pecs as I leaned back. "Don't cum," I urged, then right there on the deck I squatted down.

Up close Harris's dick was even better. Full and heavy and rock hard. I licked and teased the length and ran my tongue along the foreskin. Meanwhile A was pulling down his shorts and jerking the length of his dong.

I took John into my mouth and then worked further. I was an OK cocksucker, since I loved dick, and Lord knows Charlie Kenner had given my mouth a workout. But I still could use more practice.

I was getting it now, working John's prick deeper with each bob. I pulled off and moved to A. I fucking made love to my bro's dick. Up and down, extra suction, a lot of saliva.

Then back to John.

"Let's go to the bedroom," he said, nudging me off. He seemed to like the naughtiness of doing it outdoors, but it was still out of his comfort zone.

Even as as John pulled up his shorts, I could see he had an incredible ass. I'd heard the guys talk about "top ass," and while I still didn't know exactly what made a man have top ass, I knew for sure Charlie Kenner was the ideal I had in my head - strong and muscular but not overly rounded. John Harris was a tauter version of that.

There was an awkwardness as we three filed into John's bedroom, A shutting the door behind us. But John stepped back up and claimed a kiss that got me very into whatever was going to go down. He guided me back to the bed, and as I finally sat back down on the mattress, the guy peeled down his shorts again, now kicking off his shows and stepping out of his shorts. He smiled down on me then looked over at Alex.

"What did have you guys done?"

Alex was now naked and sliding in from the other side of the bed, scooting up behind me and gripping my shoulders with his strong hands. "Little bro had a horny hole one night. I took care of it."

I leaned back into his grip.

John grinned. He was a cute guy. "Scoot over," he urged, then stripped off his T-shirt.

A and I made room in that queen bed, and it was soon a tight fit. Two hunks on either side of me, helping me strip off and taking turns kissing me. This was different than my earlier threesome. More playful, and the guys weren't a couple this time. I felt like the true center of attention. Hands pawing at my toned ex-jock body.

At one point I turned to kiss John. It wasn't like I craved affection with him more than with Alex, but John was an incredible kisser and that body was new to me. Fun to caress and hold.

A didn't feel left out. He felt up my ass and dug into the cleft before leaning over my shoulder. "Where's the lube, bro?" he asked.

John pulled back and went to find it in his bag. I guess he hadn't had the chance to use it yet. "I don't have any rubbers on me," he said sheepishly.

"It's OK, Bri's on PReP," Alex answered and took the lubricant from our housemate.

John had a sly grin as he got back in bed. He and I kissed while Alex fingered and slicked up my hole.

Finally I felt A scooted up closer to my back and guide that big stick into my crease. The penetration was OK. He went slow then rushed it. But the last four inches felt amazing. This is what I wanted with Army Mike. A top who didn't make everything an Alpha show. Alex now gently pumped me while his lube-slick hand slipped around my front, holding me steady.

I moaned into John's kiss. He finally pulled back to watch my face.

"Feeling good, Brian?" he asked. He was turned on and yet really wanted to check in with how I was doing.

I nodded. "Oh yeah," I hissed. "Fuck."

"So hot," John said.

"Bro's got a sweet ass," A said. "Gonna take good care of his brothers."

The fucking got quicker. I think Ramirez had one speed he liked for fucking, fast. But the side position was perfect to keep it from being too intense. I was experiencing both speeds at once, hot-to-trot Alex doing me urgently from behind and smooth John making out with me from the front. If there had been any stimulation on my cock, I might have cum from that combo.

Instead I just rode out that pleasure and the sensual feeling as A got his nut. It didn't take long. I felt his muscles stiffen against my back and his arm pull me back in urgent need. "Day-um, Bri," he cried against my neck, giving me a soft lick.

It was like time was suspended for a minute. A was trying to regain his regular consciousness, John was horny as hell now but waiting his turn. I was in fucking bottom heaven, even if in the back of my head I wondered if this was all a mistake.

It didn't feel like a mistake when A's long dick pulled out, slick with his seed, and I knew I was ready for Harris's thicker one. I pulled him to me in an unmistakable sign, rolling us back in the spot vacated by Alex. John came with, supercharged with lust and attacking my neck and body with soft kisses.

I parted my legs and wrapped them around John. It took him a second to find my hole, but he nudged in.

"God yes," he sighed, pulling up from my neck and looking down on me with pure appreciation.

"Fuck me," I urged. I held on to his Crossfit bod and felt that thick cock plow in. Not roughly, but he was going right for it. My hole was already loosened and seeded, and it had been three months since John Harris has been laid. I was reaping the reward.

The guy fucked hard. Not rough, not fast, but with real strength, a steady dicking that was gonna make me crazy. I did NOT expect John Harris to be an amazing top, and yet here he was on top of me and giving me an athletic shafting that was just right.

"God," I hissed. My p-spot was truly alive, buzzing and wanting more of the Harris treatment. The guy seemed to respond in turn, throwing more of his strength and weight into each thrust. Or maybe he was just feeling his need to get off inside me.

"That's it, little bro," I heard A say with excitement. Honest to god, I'd temporarily forgotten he was there, but he was now scooting up and kissing the side of my head, snaking his hand down. "...just like when you were in the fraternity house, taking brother cock." It was A doing his fantasy talk and doing it well, sending me to that place of sexual need. "One after the other..."

John grunted on top of me. A's words were tripping his wires, too, and I felt him get close to his orgasm.

With perfect timing, A's hand wrapped around my hard as nails dick. His palm was slick with lube and he drew it up and down maybe twice before I lost it.

"Oh fuck!" I hissed, and caught it in a whimper, trying not to be too loud as I came. Zach and Daniel were just two rooms down.

It was a simultaneous O. I wished sex could always be this good. John kissed me as he rode out his orgasm, then I met A's soft lips. We uncoupled, sweaty and my body cum-covered in John's bed.

A had a content, sleepy look as he slid out. "That was hot as hell, dudes... hopefully we can do it again."

"Yeah," John said, kind of dreamy in his expression and resting his hand on my bare, spermy chest. "If Brian here's up for it."

"Definitely."

We watched A slip on his shorts and pick up his T shirt before slipping out the door.

John looked at me and smiled. "I'm so fucking glad we did that, man. Incredible."

"Incredible for me, too," I answered. I looked down at my body. "I should get cleaned off."

"Yeah," John said, removing his hand to let me get up. "If you want to sleep in here, Brian... no strings, but it's been a while for me. I miss it."

"Be back soon, bro," I said.

I slipped out to shower off, just a quick rinse, and brush my teeth. I'd have to figure out how much to tell Zach. I shared pretty much everything with him, but I didn't want to make things weird with him, or for him to think less of me.

I wrapped a towel around my waist and made my way back to John's room. Who knew what this House Bottom business meant. If it was really gonna develop, or if it was just some wild Alex fantasy we played out tonight. But I loved sex with A and sex with John. They were my friends, my bros, and they would be, fucking or not. I decided not to overthink it, to just see where it led.

John went to wash off and brush his teeth. Within five minutes he was naked again and slipping in bed next to my nude body. We spooned. John seemed to love feeling up my abs.

"You OK, man?" he asked softly.

"God, yes," I said. But I got a vibe. "Did the House Bottom talk freak you out?"

He laughed softly. "Nah. But you're the last guy I'd expect with a wild side."

"I could say the same about you, bro."

He patted my chest. "It's fun. Going all out for rebound sex."

He was talking about himself, but I realized it applied to me too. I still missed Charlie Kenner, but that night, falling asleep in John's arms, I missed my ex a little less.

[lafortezasboy]

PARTY 4 U.

charli xcx

— summary: one night after the kingdom goes quiet, silent confessions are spilled to one another and you two are stuck like glue forever…until news broke out that belaware kingdom has came to visit. and for what? an arranged marriage? and she hasn’t told you? what hurls down between you and sophia? shouldn’t she have told you before you fell in love with her?

— warnings/tags: gn!reader, princess!sophia, sophia x prince…, angst, use of “yn”, not proofread

— a/n: not proofread…this also like. fell off. this didn’t give me the GUT wrenching experience i usually get whilst writing angst so… i 100% apologize.

— divider creds: @/saradika-graphics

the kingdom was quiet tonight. after a long day of working to grow crops after winter, everyone was in their houses before sunset and fast asleep. though, you and sophia stayed around. despite working your butt off, sophia wanted to have fun with you before the night ended. the both of you managed to head towards your guys’ spot; the lake. this peaceful place was one of the very first moment you two met. with a gentle waterfall and the glowing fireflies, it was a perfect night.

“you’re not going to dive in there, are you?” sophia asks as she walks down the dirt path behind you.

you scoffed lightly, “of course not. i didn’t bring a towel with me.” sophia only rolled her brown eyes, watching as you dusted a spot off a boulder for her. she moved to sit down, smoothing the back of her dress to sit properly. she turned her head and looked at you sitting on a much lower boulder beside hers.

“you worked good today,” she complimented, a hand moving to the top of your head. you turned your head towards her, crowning your head up just a bit.

“you saw me?”

sophia hums with a small giggle. “you’re easy to spot. plus, your mom hollering at you to plant the pumpkin seeds on the right instead the left?” she shakes her head with a smile and looks off at the waterfall, fingertips gently massaging your scalp, “it was quite silly.”

your head followed her gaze and looked at the waterfall with her, hearing the water pour heavily into the lake. the gentle mist erupting made it even more magical to the eyes. your eyes wandered and a memory popped up.

“do you remember when you pushed me in?” you asked her with a smile as you pointed into a familiar spot just at the edge of the lake where the water met the dirt wall that built up.

sophia let a loud laugh, the sound of it echoing off of nearby trees. “you had soaked clothes the whole way back to your house!” she exclaimed, remembering the memory clearly. you scrunched your face at the feeling of the wet clothes stuck on your body and the unbearable sounds of your pants sloshing.

“it wasn’t funny,” you argued back, a smile gracing your lips. was it the memory or her laugh? “i was slouched outside the whole day trying to wring out the water which was not fun. it had my back aching for days,” you exaggerated.

sophia’s loud laugh died down, soft giggles coming from her lips. “oh, cmon. it couldn’t have been that bad,” she said, looking down at you. looking back up, a small silence passed by between the two of you before sophia looked away.

“and there,” she directed, her finger pointing at another spot from across where you pointed at. “when we made each other flower crowns,” sophia reminded the two of you. you hummed softly, the memory replaying in your head.

“mine sucked.”

“i still wore it though.”

“i still don’t know why.”

“‘cause i liked you.”

silence passes by before your head registers her words. you can tell her own words surprised her.

“i- i meant like — like, i liked your craft. y’know? like- like it- it wasn’t that bad so i wore it,” sophia stuttered out nervously as she tried to defend herself. her cheeks were tinted with blush, her ears going red as her eyes widened slightly. usually the composed and confident sophia you knew suddenly vanished. she seemed vulnerable after expressing her emotions.

“do you still like me?” you asked, your voice small as you looked up at her. sophia paused, staring down at you before she swallows nervously.

“n- no! i mean, that was so long ago. we were kids i—”

“sophia.”

when you stated her name in that tone, she knew you knew the truth. you only wanted her to confirm it for you.

“okay, yes — but that’s not the point! the point was that i—”

“like me,” you interrupted, finishing her sentence. you didn’t even know it, but your cheeks were hot and as red as hers.

“and you still do.”

you felt the corner of your lips curl up before you stood up, arms around sophia as you lifted her off of the rock and spun her.

sophia let out a small squeal when you lifted her off of the boulder, her legs kicking up so they weren’t touching the ground as her arms held you tightly around your shoulders.

“yn!” she exclaims, adrenaline rushing through her as you spun them. though, sophia couldn’t deny the excitement. laughter came from her lips again before you eventually settled back down on her feet. she looks at you, her lips parted as small and gentle pants came out before she gently shoves your shoulder.

“warn me before you do that!” sophia exclaims, trying to look tough and annoyed. you knew she wasn’t. you heard those laughs — she enjoyed it. though, you completely ignored her comment and look deeply into her eyes.

“tell me, soph,” you whispered, “what are we now?”

sophia blushed and wraps her arms around you to bring you two closer again. “what do you think, goofball?” with a much more calmer hug, the silence returned. she gently nuzzled into the crook of your neck where it met your shoulder, breathing in your scent. the silence between you two was gentle, quiet, and loving. something you knew that you two would always have.

two months since you two became official. everyday you two hung out the chance you two had. when she wasn’t busy, when you weren’t busy, you two would go around the village and to the lake to spend time together. sophia was probably one of the best things that could’ve happened to you. she listened, understood, and helped you. she was caring, sweet, loving — literally everything you would’ve expected. this week, she was busy and you knew better than to push her to leave her royalty duties to fulfill yours, so you did busy work yourself.

you worked around the village. carrying crates, feeding the animals, playing with the kids — literally anything to keep yourself busy.

“did you hear that the family of belaware is staying for a few days?” a man spoke up to his friend. you carried a crate filled with freshly picked fruit by their conversation, stopping to include yourself in this news.

“for what?” you asked the question the man beside the other was going to ask.

the man circles his drink in his bottle before taking a swig. “i heard that they’re here for an arranged marriage. the princess is finally old enough.”

you felt your heart drop. the princess? out of the laforteza’s family tree, sophia was the only daughter. you thanked the man for the new information before rushing to place the crate of fruits in the bakery. why wouldn’t sophia tell you about this? she would’ve known by the time she turned 20, right? she was 22 now — she’s been holding this off for two years. or maybe she knew. this was messing your thoughts up. you knew better than to lash out at her and burst into the castle like a madman. you’d look crazy. you couldn’t confront her either. maybe that’s why she’s so busy this week. she and her family are preparing for their visit.

after two days of hearing the news, you really tried your best to ignore the fact that the whole town was talking about it now. no one knew about you two which hurt a bit more. they only saw you as sophia’s close friend. you knew better than to just straight up tell them “i’m sophia’s partner!” whenever they brought up the marriage. commotion rushed through the crowd after you finished feeding the chickens. stepping from the wired gates, you watched as two big carriages rolled through with majestic horses with beautiful tamed hair waltz through before coming through a halt. you stayed back as you watched the horsemen hop off of the animals and headed to the carriages. opening both of them in sync, well dressed men and women scurried out of the stuffed ride before walking to the royal men who cared for the castle and royalties.

you were outside of your house on the doorstep, watching as the kids fooled around and played in the neighborhood as you picked at a piece of long grass. you tried so hard to desperately get the image of the prince you knew sophia would be married to in your head, but you couldn’t. he had much more money than you, much more handsome. he lived up to what you think is her parents expectations: a royalty.

“yn, dear?” your mother called from behind you with a cracked open door. “are you dressing up for the ball on friday evening?”

shock when through your body at her words. a ball?

“what’s the ball for?” you asked her.

“well, king godfrey and queen carla wanted the town to head to the castle for a proper kingdom welcoming to the yenwen family.”

you blinked a few times at her words before looking away. so that’s the surname she’ll have?

“i’m not going,” you declared, turning your back onto your mother. she slapped your back in order for you to look back at her again.

“you are going,” she chose for you. “i can’t be going around without my child with me. who knows? maybe you’ll find someone for you who can help me, too.”

there was no way out of this. you knew she was right. the whole town and maybe even the kids would be there. you know that your mom is ashamed of not bringing you to events like these. you only huffed in slight annoyance.

“fine.”

before friday could come, you and your mom spent a few hours in different stores in order to pick out the right ball fits for the both of you. eventually, you found something suiting that wasn’t too flashy or too dull. it was just right. as for your mother, she found a dress that was also the same as yours; not too dull, not too flashy. as much as you tried to avoid this day, forcing days to go by slower by not doing anything and barely going to bed, it came by quicker than a second. you looked in the mirror with the outfit on your body. it was like something in you clicked. you suddenly disliked this outfit. it looked bad. on you. you had to push that thought out, though. the stores were closed early, you couldn’t back out anymore, and you already bought this. you didn’t know why you changed your mind on it. maybe because it would’ve looked better if it were a royalty. something that you’re not.

after walking your mom down to the castle, something bad swarmed your stomach. you haven’t seen sophia in a week, and you’re seeing her now. something inside you fueled you with rage. maybe it was because she didn’t tell you about this. she should’ve known, right? she couldn’t have just been told about this last minute last week.

the ball was crowded, jazz music playing and gentle chatter was heard from every direction of the room. eventually, your mother left your side to head to her friends, ones you would consider aunts. now that you really didn’t know what to do, you stayed by the drinks, pouring yourself one as you moved to stand by a nearby wall. everyone looked so lively, chatting amongst one another as they laughed and cheered and clinked glasses together.

“boo!” a voice from beside you spoke. your head turned to see sophia. she looked different tonight. her lips were much more pigmented, her hair done in a bun. her dress was white and knee high with thin shoulder straps and white gloves. her boot high heels seemed to make her look much more taller. her eyes scanned you shoulder to toe.

“i’ve never seen you look so formal,” she commented, looking back up at you.

“i’ve never seen you so glammed up.”

sophia blushed slightly and she nods. “yeah. my mommy made me look extra glam tonight.”

silence passes by. this time, it was uncomfortable. something that’s never stood between your guys’ relationship. not even as kids.

“you’re marrying someone.”

“i’m marrying someone.”

sophia looks at you, her eyes swarming with guilt. “look, i- i really wanted to tell you,” she immediately said. “but i just…i just couldn’t. i wanted this moment to last and i would’ve told me parents —”

“you told me you told your parents about us.”

another moment of silence passes through and you felt your heart shatter. “you lied to me?”

“i didn’t want to. i really didn’t — yn you have to believe me.”

“no!” you bursted lightly, looking around. you didn’t want to cause a scene. “sophia, you lied to me anyway! you kept this away for like — two years?” you guessed, looking at her conflicted expression. you paused. “how many years,” you asked, much more of a statement than a question.

“i- i didn’t know it was going to be so soon.”

“sophia. my question.”

she looks at you. she felt vulnerable and small. “i’ve known ever since i was sixteen. my dad and mom were searching for kingdom with worthy men — that’s why it was so delayed. i thought that they wouldn’t have found one but they did i —”

“when did they find belaware.”

sophia didn’t want to speak. she truly didn’t. everything was begging her to not say anything more and just push it away, but she couldn’t keep pushing away your questions.

“a month before we got together.”

silence passes through. it felt as if it were just you and her in this little bubble of hurt.

“i’m sorry,” she cracks through the silence.

you didn’t know how to feel. hurt? angry? disappointed?

“sophia — you knew before we got together,” you stated her words, “you knew that you were going to have an arranged marriage, yet you had us date for two whole month? i know it isn’t a lot, but it truly was everything. every little date we had? you made me fall so much more deeply in love with you. i really thought that we could’ve had a future.”

“did you even see one with me?” you asked her. “despite knowing this whole marriage thing,” you added in, “did you even see a future with me?”

sophia shifts nervously again, feeling her eyes sting. “i did, but…”

“but what?!” you interrupted her, wanting her to rush her sentence out.

“but i knew it wasn’t possible!” sophia said, her voice shaking slightly. “you’re not a royalty! i knew it from the start when i liked you! i knew i couldn’t have it with you because you’re just some dumb townie i fell in love with!”

silence passed by again you felt felt your head start to hurt. it started to hurt so bad that your eyes began to hurt as well.

“so you let me fall in love with you, only to end up having me find out about you marrying someone this week?” you asked quietly. “sophia, you could’ve told me.”

“i didn’t want to hurt you.”

“it hurts more now than it probably would’ve before.”

sophia didn’t say anything more. it would’ve been better if she told you earlier on when she knew. that way, you two wouldn’t have gotten so attached to each other like you guys have. so that you two wouldn’t have had to share thoughtful memories that you knew would last a lifetime. after realizing she wasn’t going to talk anymore, your feet began to move.

sophia shakes her head and grabs your wrist. “no- no, no, no,” she repeats, holding you tightly and trying to bring you closer to her. “don’t go. please,” sophia begs, her voice quiet and…scared. “don’t let this happen.”

you looked at her, your heart aching, stomach twisting, eyes welling. “i can’t stop it,” you whisper, your hand going to her wrist and prying her fingers away.

without saying anything more, your feet rushed you out of the ballroom, hearing the king announce something for the people. you knew he was going to announce the marriage of sophia and the prince. you felt sick. you ended up heading outside and back to your house. your hands angrily pried the outfit off of your body. how were you supposed to act? you knew that at this point you couldn’t live with the fact that sophia was going to be married with someone else. someone that wasn’t you. the only thing you really could have done was leave and live some place else. some place where it was just going to be you and your thoughts. just — somewhere where you won’t hear news about any kingdom and their families or even about war.

within a few hours of contemplating, your hands were immediately grabbing your leather bag as you stuffed your clothes and items inside. you grabbed all necessities that were yours and made sure to write a note to your mother. you knew she would disapprove of this, especially leaving her. but you just couldn’t do it. with a big bag filled with needed items, you grabbed your horse and began to lead it out of its stall before you stopped.

“wait a moment,” you told your horse before fleeing the stalls.

you headed towards the lake. maybe one last time staying here won’t hurt. you know the parties the castle throws lasts about a whole night or two. you didn’t know how long you stayed as the sound of people erupting from the castle. already? looking at the crowd from afar, you couldn’t help but wonder why. did the king call the party off? was the family too tired? before you could even go back to looking at the lake’s water, rain began to pour from the dark skies. you looked up before it began to rain a little harder.

you stood up from the boulder and brushed your hair out of your face. it was unexpected.

you turned your back, looking up and you saw…the princess. why was she here?

“i called off the marriage.”

— final a/n: this is SO BOOTY OH MY GOD. okay…whatever…i kind of liked it though. i wish i had more words to make this feel more angsty and tear worthy, but i don’t think it was. i think it was the arguing part where i was super sloppy at. i don’t write arguments…at least, not when it’s me writing the other side of it, ykwim. so i apologize if this is sloppy and messy and just all in between ☹️ oka, bai!! i love you guys and thank you!! :3