#found a line in my drafts and decided to complete it

[pyrrhicallyspeaking]

Begging at the Gates

I will meet Saint Peter before his lectern laden by his book of hallowed names and I will stand by like a dog in pouring rain waiting for the timbre of his voice to fall onto the syllables that bore the sum of this life given, taken, and returned so haphazardly it cannot resemble what once was His precious gift and I shall beg for forgiveness for being weak too fragile to hold the world in my hands and I shall beg for forgiveness, for being weak made this heart crave the gentle touch of a hand in His paradise, I remain in hunger and thirst may Saint Peter and all the holy angels and saints untie from me, the burdens of being named and let this dog howl and whimper no more for even God rests on the final day and who am I to be better than He?

[atxchiphxbix]

YOUR LIPS, MY LIPS

synopsis: It’s Sylus’s first birthday with you. As a gift, you decide to give him your first (and his too)

Content. mdni afab + f! reader, established relationship, virgin! sylus, virgin! reader, mutual virginity loss (but honestly only reader’s is noticeable) oral (f! receiving) fingering, vaginal penetration, sylus finishes inside, no protection, praise, pet names (sweetie, kitten, good girl) reader wears lingerie, implied that reader and sylus have both touched themselves before, this is honestly really soft idk

a/n: can we pretend that this isn’t late… I forgot to save half my draft, spent the next day crashing out over it, but at least i got it done. Also my first time writing Sylus.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you’re suddenly feeling nervous. Clammy hands, quick breaths, and shaky hands. Your heart thumps rapidly against the bones of your caged ribs, hard and fast and only increasing with the dwindling time that Sylus spends in the shower, he should be out any minute now.

Tonight’s the night, you tell yourself. Tonight’s the night that you allow yourself to be lost to Sylus. To be his completely and celebrate the first birthday you’ve spent with him.

Your eyes rove over the red-laced clad form of your body, hands adjusting the straps that cling tight to you. A crimson lace set that hugs your curves like a second skin. The stockings clench around the middle of your thighs so the plush flesh spills just over the edge. The set is perfect enough to accentuate your figure, eye-catching and elegant—like Sylus.

And despite your repeated words to calm yourself, you still can’t help but feel nervous. You’ve never done this before, dressed up, given yourself up, especially to the leader of Onychinus. To the most powerful man in the N109 zone. But you aren’t giving yourself up to that man — you’re giving yourself to Sylus, just Sylus. To your lover who has done nothing but make you feel loved and cared for, to the man who has proved his love over and over again in countless ways.

He’s never pushed you whatsoever, never overstepped boundaries, or tried to persuade you to do anything you were uncomfortable with. Even in moments during his vampiric schedule when you two found time to sneak away to share messy kisses full of teeth and tongue, he’s never escalated it to anything, always stopping (to which you find yourself disappointed) and excusing himself with a sweet kiss to your cheeks. Charming, as always. So this time, you should be the one to initiate, to show him that you’re ready.

That thought is enough to encourage you to slip into your shared bed, pulling the silky covers up to your laced chest. You still in that position, shifting slightly in different positions while you listen intently to the sound of the shower. The rush of water extends to your ears and the brief image of your lover under the wet rivulets of water immediately causes your cheeks to heat with familiar warmth and a pool of heat to bubble in you.

A flush rises to your cheeks, burying your face into the inky sheets at the scene your mind has just conjured up. You can vividly imagine water droplets cascading down his toned body, streams of liquid running down his length, and even the way he looks under the lights that most certainly illuminate the sheen of water on his skin. The thought is intoxicating, as are the many other thoughts you’ve had of Sylus.

Amidst your flushed cheeks and wild images blaring through your creative mind, you fail to notice Sylus exit the bathroom. His toned torso is on full display, comfortable in your presence, and a little too comfortable with the way his skin is open, offering you a clear sight of the dipping V-line as his towel hangs dangerously low. His crimson eyes are quick to notice you on his bed, covered with his blanket and face buried into the sheets. It’s clear that you’re not sleeping, and from the tint of rose painting your ears, he easily deduces that you’re blushing. Yet, from what?

His lips quirk into a soft smirk, a low chuckle rumbling from his throat that finally draws your attention to him. “You’re blushing, sweetie.”

Upon hearing his gravelly chuckle, a familiar one that never fails to send waves of shivers down your spine, your head snaps up to him. And if your cheeks weren’t burning red before, seeing him in his half-nude state certainly has caused your cheeks to be coated in the prettiest shade of red — a perfect reflection of his eyes.

“Sylus! Uh…” A quiet laugh (if you could even call it that) escapes your lips, suddenly feeling exactly like a bundle of nerves once again. “I’m not, I was just…” Your words trail off, brain blanking out on what to say. What does one say in this scenario?

“Hm?” He hums amusedly, that smug smile tugging at the edges of his pink lips (and your heart) his eyes crinkling in mirth as he observes you intently. “Were you hiding instead? I’m sure I can find you much faster than when you were looking for that brooch.”

His teasing tone immediately causes you to scowl, narrowing your eyes at him. If Sylus had any say, he would compare you to a kitten with its ears flattened back, claws out, and ready to swat at him.

“I’m not hiding!” You defend yourself indignantly, yet unsure of how to approach the situation. Of course, you could be upright and just tell him that you want him to fuck you and mark you up like he does in all your fantasies. Tell him that you have obscene thoughts about him in your mind, ideas that plague your dreams, all about him. “I just… have another gift for you.”

“Oh?” The soft words that leave your lips cause him to raise a smooth brow, stepping a stride closer to the bed. Closer to where your tantalizing body is hidden beneath his covers. Closer to your pulsing heart and warm body. Closer to the place where you long to have him. “Give it here then.”

He gestures with an open hand, two fingers beckoning you towards him in a silent urge to offer your gift.

“We-well…” You stammer softly, eyes zeroing in on a bead of water that breaks free from the trap of his silvery strands of hair, sliding down the length of his body, disappearing into the waistband of the towel wrapped snug around his waist. Even the simple, most natural action of a glob of water has your throat going dry, fingers itching under the sheets to fling them off of you.

And you do, slowly.

Inch by inch, you tug the blanket down to reveal the expanse of your body, laced in crimson, to the gaze of Sylus who stands a mere few feet away. His room is chilly but with the flush of embarrassment sitting heavy in your cheeks and warmth surging through your body, you’ve never felt hotter.

Once finally bare to his eyes, you will yourself to look at him. He’s suddenly closer than before, eyes dark as he stares down at you. His large hands are clenched tight and from the close distance, you can see the way his chest heaves, a difference in his normal breaths.

A beat passes. One. Two. Three. Before you hesitantly open your mouth, concerned if you’ve miscalculated the moment. “Sy-”

“Is this your gift to me, sweetie?” The man steps closer, hands almost reaching out to ghost over you but he doesn’t. Instead, he keeps his clenched fists down at his sides.

With a small nod, you finally sit up on your knees. Your hands reach out, easily clasping his and pulling him closer. You move closer, bringing his large hand to rest on your cheek, nuzzling into the warm palm of his hand that seamlessly encases your face. Turning your head, a small kiss is pressed to his inner wrist, reverent in its creation.

“Only if… only if you want to.” A soft whisper. A plea for his approval. An acceptance of your gift and trust you’ve placed into his hands. It’s okay if he isn’t ready but you want him to know that you’re ready. You’re ready to be his completely and wholeheartedly, in every way, his.

From your close proximity, you can see the way his Adam’s apple throbs, saliva sliding down his throat, mouth watering at the delicious sight of you. Clad in a shade that mirrors his eyes, batting your pretty eyes up at him like a kitten — it’s all he’s ever wanted.

Sylus is a gentleman. Never overstepping his boundaries, never asking for too much, always allowing you to take the relationship at a pace that suited you. But this? A special gift for his birthday, to lose himself to you completely, to devote himself to you more than he already has declared? It's his declaration to the world, to show everyone that he finally belongs to you and you to him.

So, with a reverent sigh, he allows his thumb to brush along the familiar skin of your cheeks, smooth and soft. The touch is familiar, so gentle and divine. But with the air charged with unspoken tension and his heated gaze, it's more intimate than a simple touch on your cheeks. His vermillion eyes smolder as he roves over your kneeling form. Your heart picks up pace, thumping faster than it's meant to against the curved bones of your ribs that hide your heart — bared open for him.

An amused chuckle falls from his lips, gravelly and grisly. He leans in closer, watching as your lashes flutter shut in anticipation of a kiss. The sight only makes his mouth curl into a satisfied smile, body heating up in a flush when he hears your words. You want to if he wants to? He’s been wanting for a long time, no, he’s needed you for an eternity. He’s desired every part you’ve bared to him longer than he can remember.

“I want you, if you’ll have me.” His sweet words are punctuated with the sweetest kiss to your hot cheeks. A stark contrast to the hardening length hidden by the towel. It’s so easy for you to get him worked up, and you aren’t even aware of it. Not aware of the effect you have on him, not aware of what your proximity does, or how many nights he’s spent bucking his sticky cock into his wet hands while he thinks about how gorgeous you are.

“I want you.” You reaffirm gently, cupping his warm cheeks. He pulls you in by your hips, leaning in ever so slightly so that his warm breath brushes across your lips. “I want this with you, Sylus.”

He groans softly at your keening words, tilting his head, finally pressing his lips to yours in a kiss. He takes his time kissing you, slow and steady, and so very like him. Sylus is a man who enjoys the finer things in life, savoring the mulled taste of wine or lavish silks. And what could possibly be more exquisite than his beautiful lover dressed up on his special day? This closeness of your first time together, an experience you both haven’t had, shaping and exploring the contours and creases of your love.

So, he kisses you slow, savoring the intimacy of your lips locked together.

“Gorgeous. You’re gorgeous in this, sweetie.” The words come as a groan from Sylus who moves on top of you, towel slipping dangerously to expose the prominent lines of his Apollo’s belt. “So perfect, for me, no?”

You fall easily onto your back, feeling exposed with the absence of the blanket, but Sylus quickly comes to replace that weight. Your hands find purchase on his broad shoulders, pulling him closer towards you as soft lips continue to gently press along yours in smooth undulations, soft swipes of tongue and teeth.

“Sylus, I- let me,” Broken murmurs escape your lips through his worshipful kisses, pushing him away so he sits up.

The soft towel finally falls from his hips, pooling onto his black sheets. Of course, the towel isn’t what catches your attention — rather, what it was hiding. Your gaze drops to the main prize, standing big and hard against his torso. You’ve imagined him plenty of times, large and girthy, but not like… this. It’s pretty, like the rest of him, perfectly proportioned to his 6’2 frame, almost elegant in the way the pink head dribbles pearls of pre down the throbbing veins that dance along the underside.

And perhaps it was because you’re breath caught in your throat, cheeks hot and mouth dry, eyes trained onto the way it throbs with ache that he finally speaks up, a low grin heard in his syllables.

“You’re staring, kitten.” The words ring true, you are staring, quite unabashedly. But he too, doesn’t seem to care, rather, he doesn’t act shy or nervous. Even in moments like these, even if it’s your first, Sylus will be Sylus.

“It’s just… so pretty.” Your whisper, hands coming up to run along the smooth crevices of his collarbones, fingers dancing down to the creases of his chest and abs. Your actions earn a low groan and shiver out of your lover, white hair falling to his eyes as his head falls forward, crimson eyes fluttering shut. “Can I touch you, Sylus? Can I make you feel good, my love?”

The honeyed words and praises that fall from your lips almost has him folding, almost. If he were anyone else, perhaps he’d have given in, but his desire for you overpowers his want for pleasure. After all, who would he be if he didn’t take care of you first, especially since this is your shared firsts.

“Not yet, sweetie. Let me take care of you.” He rebukes you gently, veiny hands rising to wrap around your wrist. He pulls you away, raising your chin for a kiss to soothe your adorable pout.

“No, Sylus. Let me take care of you! It’s your birthday.” You pull away, pressing light kisses down the smooth column of his neck, lingering along scars and every perfect imperfection that makes him — him.

The only response from Sylus is a light chuckle before your world is tilted on its axis and you’ve fallen under him once again. Smoldering crimson eyes meet yours, filled with mirth and amusement while he pins you down underneath his broad body. His lithe fingers find yours, lacing your hands together in a sweet embrace and he hushes your protests with a flurry of kisses.

“This is my gift, no? I should unravel you properly, won’t you indulge the birthday boy?” Each of his teasing words are punctuated with a trail of kisses down your body that has your breath hitching. Before you even try to argue that it’s his birthday, and you should be lavishing him in your attention and care, he’s claimed the final word, lightly kissing down the length of your hot torso. “Besides, this is my first time too. Let me learn you, sweetie.”

Instantly, you melt at his words.

You've imagined this countless of times in the quiet of your room, filled with the sound of your sticky fingers pistoning into the messy channel of your squelching cunt. Countless of times you've imagined how he would kiss down your neck like he currently does, sucking his gentle claim into your flesh. You've imagined his lithe fingers deftly unhooking your lacy bra, trailing hot kisses down the valley of your breast. You've always imagined the experience of being utterly loved by him.

The next feeling you receive from him is the wetness of his warm mouth, wrapping gently around a single nipple, suckling softly on the sensitive tit. His vermillion eyes look up to meet your gaze, the great leader of Onychinus, alternating his attention on your heaving breasts. His silky hair is ruffled with your fingers buried in the silver strands. But the sensations are muted with the unfamiliar length that presses insistently against your sopping clothed core, a reminder that he desires you just as much as you do him in this moment.

"Sylus," you plea his name softly. Instantaneously, he looks up, pulling his mouth away from your chest. A part of you wishes he didn't do so. The action leaves a salacious strand of his warm saliva connected to the tip of your nipple, hardening with the onslaught of the cold air in his room.

"Hm?" He replies quietly, continuing to mark your skin. His hands slide down your sides reverently, admiring every crevice of you. Unwrapping you like a dutiful devotee. With every article of lace that slips from your body, he explores the new expanse of flesh, memorizing every mark, every scar, every millimeter shown. "Do you want me to stop, kitten?"

Instantly, you shake your head, a light whimper slipping from your lips.

Pleased, he finally kisses down to the supple flesh of your inner thighs, mouthing at the skin that exposes itself from the crimson lace. Your needy pleas and whines fill his ears, waves of pleased hums course through him, vibrating against your thighs. His experience is few and far between (zero) but he knows you and that’s already enough for him to understand you inside out.

“Patience, kitten.” He chuckles softly at your pleas, eager whines filling him with an unfathomable amount of pleasure. Large hands knead the flesh of your thigh. Your lacy red underwear outlined your sopping core, drenched in your arousal that he’s so close to. His warm breath ghosts over your damp cunt, shivering in excitement and slight embarrassment. No one has ever gotten this close, this intimate with you, only him. It will continue to be only him. And though he crooned to you to be patient, he could feel his own patience disintegrate when faced with you, all spread out and eager for him. “I want to take my time savoring you, unwrapping you.”

It pleased him that could leave as many marks as he wished; no one else got to see you like this. He could dance his lips across your skin, planting seeds that would blossom later, bloom into hues of ruby and violet, reminders for the next time undresses you. No one else would see them except you and him. A secret buried deep inside when the two of you would soon connect. You would be reminded of the sparks shivering through your body where his lips sucked, and he would remember the pleasure that rushed through him as he marked you for himself.

"Can I take these off?" He speaks low and soft, nuzzling his pink lips against the wet lace, clinging pitifully to your pussy.

At your eager nod, he mouths at your cunt. A low groan cuts through him at the taste of you, leaking through the article of lace. Leaking because of him. It pleases him to see that he has this effect on you, having you spread open with legs hooked over his shoulders and flushed so prettily.

Innately, your hands bury into the strands of his hair, tugging and whining for his touch. He grants it to you through the fabric, tongue flattening against the lace, dragging slowly up until he suckles on your throbbing clit. A sharp gasp is elicited from your kiss-bitten lips, mouth falling open in a silent moan.

"All this for me, sweetie? How kind, a sweet cunt for a sweet girl." Sylus chuckles slowly, the sound vibrating through his lips and through your cunt, an action that sends shocks of sharp pleasure shooting through you.

“Mhm… for you, Sy. All for you.” You pant, hips bucking impatiently into his mouth.

A veined hand runs up the garter that decorates your thighs, raising just higher to hook over the waistband of your red-laced panties, tugging down to reveal his present.

"So pretty, kitten. You smell so good, so sweet.” With your legs thrown over his shoulders, cunt glistening in the low light, he admires you quietly, almost divinely in your presence. Your pussy on full display, sensitive bud throbbing and hole clenching around nothing. Drool builds up in his mouth at the delicious sight, unable to tear his eyes away. Embarrassment flushes through you, crawling up your spine to settle on your already-flushed cheeks.

His large hands raise, thumbs parting your slick folds, opening you up to feast on you with his heavy gaze. Your lover leans in, mouth open, coming closer until his nose bumps your clit, tongue dragging through your silky folds, and relishing in the gasp and moans that fall heavenly from your lips. Hands tug at his hair, whines and sweet sounds come from above him, raising higher in pitch when his thumbs swipes at your sensitive clit, rubbing in tight circles. Infinitely better than any of the times you’ve ever touched yourself.

“Sy- fuck!” You throw your head back, thighs threatening to close around his head. He could die happy like this, drunk off of your taste and love. He would give you the world on a diamond platter, each bite filled with nothing but love and security, it’s the least he could possibly give you after you’ve allowed him to take a sacred part of you.

The way you moan and quiver around him is a gift in itself, a gift to him that he takes readily without hesitation. Anything from you is a gift. And anything from you, is more sacred than his life in whole.

For someone who has never been in bed with someone, it feels like Sylus knows your body like the back of his hand. Maybe it’s his close observation skills. His vermillion irises carefully watch each and every twitch your body makes in creation to his touch. From a certain way you shiver when his tongue swipes at your clit, to the moan that tumbles when he dips his wet muscle into your tight heat. He notices it all.

His tongue expertly slides along your folds, scooping copious amount of your sweet slick onto his tongue while savoring your pitchy moans. Your lover laps you up like a man starved, tongue slipping along your damped folds, no difference between your sweet taste nor his drool. He relishes everything you offer him. From the way, your fingers tug almost painfully at his scalp to the unbridled noises that resonate through his room.

“Sy-Sylus, ha… please, I wanna make you feel g-good too.” Through your messy haze of pleasure shooting through your spine, you manage to find words that aren’t the broken syllables of his moaning name.

“You are, sweetie. You're making me feel so good, letting me have you so nicely like this. So kind, so sweet, aren’t you? My sweet girl?” His praises are spoken through milliseconds away from your soft cunt, diving back in like a dragon greedily guarding its most precious gems. After all, what gem is more precious than the one he has in his grasp right now?

You don't find it in you to argue, mind succumbed to the pleasure he so readily offers you. Your plush thighs, decorated with lacy vermillion garters, clench around his head, threatening to shut with the quick rise of your impending orgasm. It climbs rapidly, settling into the pit of your stomach, bubbling into hot sparks.

"Can I put a finger in, kitten?" He murmurs softly. His thumb swipes at your sensitive bud, looking up at your pleading expression. He clearly doesn't need your words, actions and your lovestruck expression etched onto your face is enough, but he wants to hear you. He needs to hear your confirmation, to hear that this moment isn’t one of his many dreams he has of you. Another when he gets to hear the melody of your heavenly mewls and the feel of your thighs against both sides of his head. He needs to hear that you need him just as much as he needs to in this moment.

“Yes, please, please. Sy, I want you, I wanna be yours.” With eager hands, your fingers wrap around his wrist that squeezes at the plush of your thighs, bringing it closer to your achy hole. Not only does he need you in this moment, you need him. It’s an act of reassurance, love, and trust that you’ve so generously given to him.

“You do, hm?” His smile returns, lovestruck and full of adoration. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll make you mine.”

With that, he slides a calloused finger through your folds, slick with his saliva and your own arousal. He takes his time, savoring your flesh and the feel of being the first man down here, with you. Your face contorts into one of mild discomfit as he slides a finger in, easing it into your virgin walls. His eyes never leave your face though, watching every twitch of your muscles and flutter of your lashes as your mouth etched to create the syllables of his name in a whine.

“Do you want to stop, sweetie?” He murmurs against your aching clit, in hopes of alleviating the discomfort of his digit.

And it pleases him. The way you immediately shake your head, quickly protesting that idea. “No! I can take it, Sy. I wanna take it for you.”

So he continues to give you what you want. With your slick arousal coating his hands, he pumps his finger gently along your gummy walls, lewd sounds of your squelching pussy reverberating throughout his room. He continues suckling on your sensitive bud, flattening his tongue against the wetness, slurping you up. It’s obscene, the sounds behind the closed doors. His groans, lewd squelches, and your moans — it sends all the blood in his body rushing south, to his already aching cock.

Your hips sloppily humped against his mouth, a physical beg to have his fingers stroke deeper into you. You already felt so full with a single finger, insistently prodding at your gummy walls until your back arches beautifully for him. Your fingers pull at his silky hair, toes curling, and your head falls back into the black pillows as your stomach grows taut and rivulets of ecstasy shoot through every nerve.

“Fuckfuckfuck, ‘s so good—”

You cum so suddenly it feels blinding. It feels like fireworks ignite behind your shut lids as you ground down onto Sylus’ face to chase the aftershocks of the high. His finger stills but your hips don’t, grinding onto his finger to catch the remaining effects of the hot sparks in your stomach.

"That's it, good girl. So good for me, sweetie, you came so beautifully." His praises are spoken through your quivering cunt, twitching at his smooth praise. "Good girl, it's okay, kitten."

He finally pulls away from your pussy, webs of his saliva stuck to your sweaty body. Sylus sits up on his heels, hand coming to wrap around the hard length of his cock, giving himself reprieve of slow pumps. Your eyes drop down to his shaft, angry and dribbling more pre from the turgid tip with every drag of his large hand. It looks heavier than earlier, even more delicious bucking in his fist.

His soft groans, twitching of his hips has a new wave of heat coursing through your body. You feel an indescribable urge to relieve him of the ache, to have him fill you up, and to love each other thoroughly once more. But before you can pull him on top of you, he speaks.

“We can stop he—”

“No.” Your response is quick, pulling him over you in a swift motion. You don’t want to stop. Rather, you want him inside you. You want to make him yours and you, his.

Your hand trails down his torso, fingers finding his hard cock that bobs eagerly when you gently brush along it. It’s hot and thick, sending waves of anticipating shivers down your spine at the prospect of having this part of him inside you.

But for now, you enjoy the way the leader of Onychinus shivers from your touch. His Adam’s apple bobs with the gulp of his saliva, low groans escaping him as you trail kisses along his neck. Your hands slide smoothly from his turgid crown and down to the base, giving him light squeezes that has his eyes fluttering shut and head lolling into the sweaty crook of your neck.

“Fuck, kitten. You feel so good…” His words escape as a breathy sigh, dwindling into low groans. He allows you this, just as he allows you into many things; his heart, mind, body, and soul. Whatever you wish for, he allows it.

“Yeah? I wanna make you feel good, Sy. Just wanna make you feel good.” Your response is whispered out, leaning up to lock your lips with his in a gentle kiss.

His hands, resting on your hips, drop down to your thighs to hook it over the curve of his waist. He sighs into the kiss, breaking gently with a long string of saliva connecting the two of you.

“Can I put it in then, kitten?” His hands capture your wrist, lacing your fingers gently together in an intimate embrace. The silvery strands of his hair fall onto your forehead as he leans down, pressing his temple to yours.

Your response is a nod, arms tightening around his neck when he lines himself to your quivering hole, already feeling himself shiver at the contact of your hot folds sliding along the length of his dick. You can feel the blood throbbing through the veins that run along the underside of his cock, warm and bobbing against you.

Gently, he finally pushes the tip in.

A sharp gasp is elicited from both of you. Your eyes instantly flutter shut, features contorting into a grimace at the large intrusion, pressing into the deepest parts of you. Sensing your pain, Sylus peppers kisses along your neck, fingers tightening on yours in a soothing hold, his free hand weaves between your flushed bodies to rub tight circles to your clit, alleviating your pain.

“Good girl, it’s okay. You’re doing so well, just breathe, just breathe.” His praises fall reverently, kissing away the pearls of tears that pool at the edges of your eyes, gentle and loving.

His praises continue as he finally bottoms out, filling your walls completely full of him. He pants against your lips, watching your expression form from one of discomfort to one of pleasure and love. He moves his lips down your body, sucking on your neglected tits to coax soft moans from you.

“Sylus… you can move, please.” Your soft plea has him folding immediately. Gentle, hoarse voice and a body that takes him in perfectly. You truly were made for him.

The first roll of his hips is meticulously steady in its movement, like he’s holding himself back, caging himself in. He barely pulls out, cool air meeting the slicked skin of his cock before he slides back in with a punctual sway. The simple movement makes you dizzy and numbed, oxygen flying from you, escaping in a soft blissed sigh, and mewls falling from your kiss-bitten lips. It feels euphoric to be split open by him and feel inches of his cock drag along your spongy walls, filled up by him. It’s like you’re ambling in a haze of heat, wandering through the fog of hot shocks of pleasure with his body securely locking you flush to him, and nothing but him in this moment, a satisfying overwhelming indulgence of his scent and touch.

“Oh,” you keen instantly when the tip of his dick delicately, repeatedly nudges that soft, spongy part of your walls. It has you raking your nails down his back, relishing in the presence of him, senses filled with nothing but him. “I love you, Sylus. I love you, s-so much.”

His swift thrust has your words getting caught in your throat, air knocked from your lungs from his punctual movements.

“Yeah? I love you too, I love you, I love you. Fuck— I love you. You were made for me, weren’t you? Made for me to love and cherish, made for me to have you like this?” The words are whispered out, barely heard over the obscene sound of flesh on flesh, wet and intimate.

You can only respond in babbles, murmuring mewls in a symphony of his name. Arms wrapped tightly around his neck and whimpering out your devotion. Heat simmers between your flushed bodies, the only space separating you two is the repetitive cadence of his rolling hips.

The two of you render speechless, allowing the harmony of bodies and reverberation of your shared noises to speak for itself. He pants softly into your ears, groaning sweet nothings at the feeling of your perfect walls hugging tight around his cock. It’s almost painful for him to pull out, instantly missing your sweet heat and that has him diving back in again and again and again, until he feels the aching knot bubbling in his stomach. A familiar and unwelcome feeling that has his cock twitching and pulsing. He doesn’t want to come yet, not without you. Not until you do first.

And as if sensing his dilemma, cock twitching inside your sensitive walls, your hands come up to cup his cheeks. Your lips raise, meeting his in a kiss full of tongue and teeth, messy in all its glory. He isn’t the only one close. Your nerves feel shot, ignited on every expanse of your glistening skin. You want him to cum, you want to come with him.

“Sylus,” you pant against his lips, “Can you— nngh come? I wanna feel you, Sy. Please come, I wanna fe-feel you.”

“Yeah?” He breathlessly chuckles through blissful, broken sighs of your name. “I’ll give it to you. Sh-shit, I’ll give it to you, kitten. I love you, fuck, I love you.”

Your words coax the knot in his stomach to unravel. And with a moan of your name on his lips, he buries himself deep inside you, spilling his warm seed into your fluttering walls. Your fingers card through his hair, gentle pressure guiding him to hide into the crook of your neck, which he eagerly does.

With his head buried in the crook of your neck, fingers rubbing light circles on your clit, and his hip rutting sloppily into your spent pussy, you quickly follow his lead. Your back arches into him, cumming with the sweetest cry of his name on your swollen lips.

Sylus doesn't stop.

Your lover continues to messily thrust up into you, hands gripping the soft flesh of your ass to keep you impossibly closer to his thumping heart. Even with your nails digging into his shoulders, even with your legs trembling around his waist, or the rapid pulsing walls that greedily milk his hot cum into your welcoming womb. Filled, and fucked back into you, over and over and over. He doesn’t stop.

Not until you’re sniffling his name and clinging onto him like it’s your life’s mission. Only then does he slow his pace, peppering kisses up your sweaty sternum until laying one to rest on your sweet lips.

Sylus stops to admire you, an act he performs every day with the utmost importance. His beautiful lover, dressed up for him, flushed the prettiest shade of red because of him, leaking his cum because of their passionate coupling.

“Sylus,” you whisper, the first to break the silence but not the touch.

“Hm?” His answer is soft, taking pleasure in your smell and flesh. The two of you are sweaty but it doesn’t bother him, never if it’s you.

“Happy birthday.” The words are spoken softly, mumbled against his flesh.

His response comes in the form of a soft ‘thank you, my love.’ Words that have your heart warming and cheeks flushing more than they already are. You press your palm to his cheek, cupping his face to pull him into a kiss that devotes your being to him.

He nuzzles into the crevices of your neck, panting softly in the intimate ambiance of his room, soothed by the beating of your heart — a remembrance that you’re here, with him.

It’s no secret that Sylus loves you. No secret that you’re his and he is yours. But in moments like these, just you and him, it feels so much more real, more intimate than anything he could have ever fathomed. Tonight is his day of birth, the first that he’s ever spent with anyone (not just anyone — you) It’s almost terrifying how quickly you’ve assimilated into his life, slotting yourself in because you belong with him — made for him in every way.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way, ruin him if you wish. It’s okay if it’s you.

This year, next year, and many lifetimes to come — he wants it all with you.

HAPPY (late) BIRTHDAY TO SYLUS

[novvabee]

And They Were Roommates 11

this sat in my drafts for a while because of the whole tiktok ban thing.

Summary: you prank James and it makes for a great tiktok.

word count: 1.5k

cw: swearing once or twice

The boys really didn’t understand what you were up to now. 

They understood the concepts of social media and partook in the occasional instagram post, but they were all so… different.

You knew that they went to a boarding school that didn’t allow any technology, and they were severely lacking in the pop culture department, but usually Remus could fill in the gaps for the other two boys. He was the one who had seen all the movies you’d reference or know about a celebrity that you were talking about. 

But when it came to silly trends and social media references, the boys were completely lost.

So, you decided to take advantage of their lack of understanding for a good laugh. Even though the girls also went to this boarding school, they still had a good understanding of the world. You and Lily would send funny videos or TikToks to each other, Mary would always discuss the latest celebrity tea with you, and Marlene would recommend new artists she found and send them to you to give a listen to. The point is, they weren’t as blind to these things as the boys were, maybe the boys were just heavily sheltered?

Either way, when you rounded them all up to explain that you wanted to do a silly trend, they looked at you in bewilderment. You had to explain multiple times what a “hear me out cake” was. You explained to them the premise, that there would be a cake that you all would take turns decorating with people and characters that you think were attractive and the rest of the group would have to ‘hear you out’ on why. 

You all compiled your lists and sent the pictures up to Remus’s printer in his room. You noticed the boys had far less than yourself, but that was ok, you were really just trying to prank James and send the video to Lily.

The other day he had scared the daylights out of you when you thought you were home alone. He thought it was hilarious, you did not, so you knew you had to get him back somehow and you knew he wouldn’t be expecting this at all. None of them would, and you were ready to show off your mischievous side.

You sat in the living room, cutting out your images and taping them to toothpicks to later pop in the cake. Remus and James were kind enough to run to the store down the road and pick up a cake. You laughed at the inscription iced on top; a generic “Happy Birthday” with balloons iced around the corners.

“It’s perfect.” you smiled up at them.

They set the cake on the dining table as you and Sirius made your way into the kitchen. You handed both Remus and James their pictures and set your phone up to start recording. 

“I still don’t really get it,” Sirius said from beside you, “Why do you have to film it? And why do you want to know who we find fit?”

You laughed as you hit the record button, stepping back and in line with the boys. “Because it’s just a stupid TikTok thing. I thought it would be funny.” you said, looking up at Sirius and batting your lashes, knowing he would go along with whatever you wanted when you looked at him like that.

“Fine,” he said finally.

“Ok, I'll go first,” you said. You pulled out a picture and stuck it in the cake. “James Sully.” You finished placing the picture of the blue avatar front and center.

“The Avatar?” Remus asked as James said, “Why is he blue?” to Sirius. Sirius just shrugged and looked to Remus for an answer. “He’s from a movie,” he explained.

“That thing isn’t even human,” Sirius laughed.

You laughed too, shrugging. “I mean he kinda is… and I thought he was cute ok?”

The boys shook their heads, if they didn’t understand the premise of this game before, they definitely didn’t now.

“Ok, ok,” Sirius said, “I’ll go next.” He picked out a picture and placed it next to yours.

“Sirius,” you said softly, “That’s a cat.” You stared at the picture of the gray tabby on the cake. And he had the audacity to poke fun at you for your ‘non-human’ character.

“Well,” Sirius began, “I didn’t have a picture of her so… this will have to do.”

“Didn’t have a picture of who?” James asked.

Sirius turned to James slightly. “Minnie.” He stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Sirius,” Remus sighed under his breath. James just burst into laughter, leaning on an unamused Remus for support. “What is wrong with you?”

You didn’t quite understand the joke, and you certainly didn't know who ‘Minnie’ was, but it was nice to see Remus and James giggle like that. Your plan was working, you were getting them all to loosen up a little.

James went next. He placed a picture of Princess Leia then stood back and said nothing. Maybe he didn’t get the rules of this little game. “James…” you began, “Why would we have to hear you out… she’s a conventionally attractive person.” you giggled.

He shrugged in reply. “But she's an alien right?” Oh but your ‘alien’ wasn’t ok… hypocrite.

“I mean, not really.” Remus said.

“Well she doesn't live on Earth.” James countered.

“Ok we are not arguing about Star Wars right now you nerds.” You laughed. “Go Remmy.” Remus placed an old photo of Jane Austen on the cake. “Wow… You really are a nerd.” you sighed. You stepped forward to go again.

You decided to play out your little prank on James now. You placed your picture on the cake and stepped back without a word, trying to contain your laughter. You caught the smile on Remus’s face.

“You want to explain that one?” Remus asked.

You shook your head. “Nope.” You answered.

It took all but a moment for James to realize who the picture was. “THAT��S MY DAD!” James yelled. There was a flash in your peripheral vision which turned out to be Sirius falling to the floor with laughter. You held it together for as long as you could, but the second James ripped the picture off the cake and turned back to you, you couldn’t help but giggle. 

“This is my dad!” James kept repeating, shaking the picture at you. Even Remus was chuckling behind you, Sirius on the floor almost in tears and clutching his stomach.

“Where did you even get this picture? What, I mean… How even?” James was at a complete loss for words and you were losing it. You would never tell him where you got it. Lily would get a kick out of this video for sure. 

“Well James,” Remus chuckled again from behind where you stood, nudging you aside softly to make his way back to the cake. “I have a feeling you’re not gonna like this one.” He placed a picture of a woman you didn’t know. She was beautiful, looked kind. 

For a second the room was quiet, James and Sirius trying to see who it was that Remus placed on the cake. Sirius burst into another fit of laughter as James shrieked “WHAT THE FUCK!”

You looked to Remus who was full on laughing now. James kicked Sirius in the leg. “Shut up! She’s basically your mother too.”

“Wait, that's James’s mother?” you said, quickly making your way over and plucking the picture off the cake, holding it out in front of you to compare it to James. You could see the resemblance now. You decided to play along with Remus now. “Huh, you know what Remmy, she is hot.” you giggled. If that were to come out of either Sirius or Remus, James definitely would have punched them.

Remus threw his hands up in defence. “She said it, not me.”

James shook his head, speechless. “Why.” was all he could get out.

“Well I couldn’t put Sirius’s mother, now could I?” Remus stated matter of factly. 

Sirius, who was still on the floor and struggling for breath, managed to wheeze out, “They did… all that… for a your mum joke…” He was definitely crying with laughter now.

“Oh no,” You said, the boys attention turning to you, “We didn’t work together on this.” you held out your hand in front of Remus and he took the hint, giving you a victorious high five. 

“Great minds just think alike,” Remus agreed with you.

James’s face was quite priceless, somewhere in between shocked and baffled. 

“I wanted to get back at you for scaring me the other day.” you explained to him. He seemed to come to understand, but still so confused and freaked out that you had a picture of his dad that you had never met.

James looked to Remus for his explanation, but Remus only smirked back at him. “I Just think your mum is hot.” Remus joked. James was on him in an instant, tackling him to the kitchen floor. Sirius had finally pulled himself together enough to sit up and start wiping the tears from his eyes. You sat next to Sirius on the floor and watched as James attempted to wrestle Remus to the ground, partially successful, but you could tell Remus was letting him win, his reward for putting up with you all calling his family hot.

You couldn’t wait to send this video to Lily.

if you've seen the tiktok I am referring to 💋 that is for you. I hope yall like this, its a short but sweet one.

taglist 💌: @too-efn-old-to-be-here @cometsghost @eeviee4 @giuli-in-earth @spicybearnaise @the-lavender-girl @adharalikethestar @champomiel @itsleroyposts @enamoredwithbella @babymash @ilovejamespottersomuch @liszblog @sammyreid @kiaslily @idkman5335 @willowlovestheweasleys @lady-balem @nislame @latenightreadingpdf @v-loves-frogs @meggishhhh @mooonyxoxo @sodavrr @notmonstersapocalipse @plk-18 @prettylittlewrites @darkloverfox @navs-bhat @lexi2005 @bache3 @koolayee

[munsonsmixtapes]

The Prophecy

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

After recommending a movie to you, Steve invited you you over to watch it with him and to his surprise, you agree.

This has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I have no idea why I never posted it.

Based on “The Prophecy” by Taylor Swift because that song is Steve.

Steve would be the first to admit that his sex life is nothing but vanilla. He’s always on top and always so sweet and gentle. But now he’s starting to wonder if that’s the problem. If that’s the reason why women don’t seem to want anything more than a one night stand.

He doesn’t get it. He used to be King Steve and now he can’t even get a call back? What the fuck is that about? He goes on a date almost every night and still somehow the only action he gets is with his hand.

The “you suck” side of Robin’s board is so full that she had to get another one and what started as a harmless joke has now made Steve start to think badly about himself. He used to have so much confidence and now it’s withering away bit by bit with each rejection.

He thinks all hope is lost until you walk in to Family Video. You’re all smiles as you ask him for a suggestion and he’s convinced it’s all a prank. It’s going too well if he’s being honest. You’re laughing at his jokes and genuinely seem interested in what he’s recommending. He’s now wondering if Robin put you up to this so he’d stop complaining to her about being single.

He decides it doesn’t matter and that he’s going to play along because you’re pretty and now he’s following you around the store like a lost puppy, holding a large stack of tapes that you’ve handed to him. Normally, he hates when people treat him like he’s their personal shopper but he’s going to let you do whatever you damn well please. You might as well tell him to jump because he’ll ask how high.

“Is this one any good?” You ask, holding up a tape to him and he audibly gasps. He didn’t think anyone hadn’t seen the movie so the fact that you haven’t is genuinely shocking to him.

“You’ve never seen the Princess Bride?” He’s acting like he just witnessed you commit a crime. Sure, you’ve heard of the movie and listened to people rave about it, but there’s something about it that turns you off.

“No,” you shake your head and Steve plucks the VHS from your hand and heads over to the counter with you following him.

“I can’t allow that. You’ve gotta watch it. It’s one of the best movies of all time. So, I’m renting it to you.”

“Well, maybe we can watch it together.” Are you…flirting? He hasn’t been flirted with in so long that he’s having a hard time telling whether it’s that or you’re just being friendly.

“Y-yeah. I’ve got whole movie theater in my basement. We can watch it there.” That’s become his make out spot when everyone found out about skull rock, but this time, he just wants to watch a movie with you.

“It’s a date,” you glance at his name tag to get his name. “Steve. Can I call you, Stevie?”

“You can call me anything you want.” He internally cringes at his words, but you seem so into it that he can’t possibly take them back.

“Well, I’m y/n, but you can call me anything you want.” The line completely goes over his head as all he can focus on is your name. He’s heard so much about you and now that he can put a face to a name, he finally understands.

You’re new to Hawkins and it’s clear that you’re the talk of the town as everyone seems to want a chance to either be you or under you. And he can see why. You’re sweet and very easy on the eyes. You’re probably the most stunning woman he’s ever seen and you’re flirting with him? He’s wondering if this is some sort of cruel prank.

You set your purse on the counter then pull out a notebook and pen from it before setting them both on the counter in front of him. “Here, write down your address and I’ll write down my number and you can call me whenever you’re available.”

He’s scribbling down his information so quickly that he’s afraid you can’t read it. But you read over the words without a word then scribble down your number before ripping off the piece and handing it to him. You then put your things back into your purse before pulling out some cash to pay for your rental.

“Oh, he’s always available. How does tonight sound?” Robin has inserted herself into the conversation and Steve really wishes she hadn’t. He can get a date all by himself thank you very much.

“Stop helping me,” he whispers to her and he really hopes you can’t hear him.

“Tonight is perfect,” you smile and Steve swears he’s already in love with you. “Call me when you get off?”

“Oh, he’ll be getting off, alright,” Robin says under her breath and Steve is quick to elbow her in the stomach.

“Seriously, stop,” he turns to her to give her a glare and you honestly just find their whole dynamic to be funny, like siblings. Steve slides the VHS across the counter to you along with your change and as soon as you’re gone, he’s going to let Robin have it.

They’re so engrossed in their conversation that they haven’t even noticed that you’ve left your purse. The bright pink thing is sitting there in front of them they’re not even aware, too caught up in their silly conversation.

“I’m helping you get laid and this is how you repay me?” She asks, leaning against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I don’t need your help,” he tells her as he heads over to the cart of returns to put them away and Robin follows.

“Clearly you do. Or else I wouldn’t have had to step in.”

“I was fine. I’ve still got it.” He honestly doesn’t know how he even got a date with you since he almost always flounders now. Maybe this will be the one that finally sticks.

“Good for you, dingus, you scored a date with the hottest woman in town. Maybe this time I’ll actually be able to put a tally in the “you rule” column.”

Robin knows that it’s a cruel joke to make when he’s so sensitive about the whole thing, but she can’t figure out why. Even thought hasn’t been and will never be attracted to him, she totally understands the appeal. He’s sweet and funny and much more intelligent than people give him credit for. She doesn’t know why he can’t seem to find someone to settle down with when that’s really all he wants.

She knows he’s not as happy as he lets on, that he’s much more lonely than he tells people he is. That he always goes out with his friends or is over at her house because his is far too big to be alone in.

That’s why he’s always got a girl in his bed so he won’t be going to sleep alone, but that’s how he always wakes up as they always leave him before he’s awake.

It’s not fair, she thinks. That everyone has seemed to have found his person but not him. He’s such a fucking catch so it just doesn’t make sense. She’s really hoping that maybe you’ll be the one.

“Fuck off,” he shoves her away with a laugh. He’s being a good sport about the whole thing, at least that’s what everyone thinks. No one knows that sometimes he’ll go home and have a good cry in the shower because of how alone he feels. And he feels so fucking pathetic for it, but it's the only way he knows how to cope.

The bell above the door jingles, signaling that a customer has entered the store. Steve and Robin turn to see Dustin carrying a stack of VHS tapes he's going to return. He's got a bright smile on his face as usual as he makes his way over to the counter where Steve meets him.

“Everyone’s coming over tonight to watch Star Wars if you guys wanna join,” Dustin says as Steve returns the movies to the system.

“I’ll be there, but Steve has a date,” Robin replies, patting Steve on the shoulder in a congratulatory manner.

“Right, with your hand, a sock, and a bottle of lotion, just like every night?” Dustin is wearing a knowing look and Robin is grimacing in disgust while Steve’s cheeks turn bright pink.

“No,” Steve glares. “With a girl. We’re going to watch the Princess Bride.”

“What’s her name?” He’s asking in a way that makes it seem like he doesn’t believe Steve, but he does. Dustin just likes to give him shit any chance he gets.

“Y/n.” Steve’s tone is smug and Dustin scoffs in response because now he really doesn’t believe him. There’s no fucking way that he scored a date with you of all people. Maybe back in his “King Steve” days, but definitely not now.

“Y/n as in y/n l/n? No way dude. She’s way out of your league.” Dustin is laughing now as if he’s just heard the most funny joke.

“Gee, thanks, Henderson.” Steve grabs the tapes now that he’s put them back in the system, then turns his back, heading for the break room because it’s time for his thirty. He doesn’t have time for this.

He can hear the two of them still yapping as he closes the door. He reaches for his punch card, punching that he’s on his break then grabs his lunchbox from the fridge before sitting down at the table with a sigh.

“She gave him her number and everything. And let me tell you, she’s even hotter than they say.” Robin had never seen you in person until tonight and she totally understands why everyone is head over heels for you.

“Don’t believe me?” She asks, eyeing the purse on the counter that you had apparently left.

“This could be anybody’s,” Dustin glares at her just as you enter the store again. All of the air is sucked out of his lungs as he’s come to the realization that you are in fact real.

“Totally forgot my purse,” you tell Robin with a little laugh as you grab the thing from the counter, slinging it over your shoulder. You then turn in Dustin’s direction, staring at him with your signature bright smile. “And who might you be?” You ask, and Dustin’s mouth goes bone dry as he looks up at you. You really are hotter than they say.

“D-“ he clears his throat before trying to introduce himself again. “Dustin.”

“Dustin,” you repeat and his name sounds so angelic coming from your mouth. “That’s cute. Well, it was nice to meet you Dustin and I'll see you, Rob,” you wave at her from over your shoulder like you’re old friends and yeah, she’s going to be thinking about that for a very long time.

You flee the store yet again and Dustin’s eyes are following you as Robin opens a magazine, staring down at the page to hide her blushing cheeks. He’s trying to figure out how he can become four years older while Robin is crossing her fingers that you’re also into girls.

They both know it’s pathetic, especially since you’re going out with Steve tonight, but they can’t help it. There’s just something about you that draws people to you, like they’re all sailors being lured to their deaths and damn if that isn’t a good way to go.

It’s the way you carry yourself, as if you don’t have a care in the world. And you don’t. You just go around with all of that confidence and maybe that’s why everyone either envies or wants you. You never pay attention to that, though.

None of them truly know you and they don’t care to either. You’re just something pretty to look at, someone who will look good on their arm, but the second they get you into bed or even hang out with you with everyone watching, they’ll leave you in the drop of a hat. Because really, all they want is for you to make them look good.

But Steve? He actually treated you like a person. He wasn’t falling all over you, just genuinely trying to help you find a movie. You’re not usually one to randomly ask someone out, in fact, the whole thing made you super nervous. But he was so eager to agree and that made you feel like your usual self again.

You've heard a lot about Steve. You know his reputation and how he's very popular with the ladies, so you're surprised that he's available on a Saturday night. You figured that someone else would have already snatched him up and put a ring on it. You're both about that age now so it's honestly surprising that he's single. How has no woman in Hawkins come to their senses and married this man? You suppose you should be grateful since you're the lucky woman he's invited over tonight.

Steve exits the break room as soon as his break is over still thinking about you and how he still can't believe how you actually asked him out. The prettiest girl in Hawkins. Maybe he really does still have game.

He makes his way over to Robin feeling more confident than he has a long time. She's scribbling something down in a notebook and he lets out a deep sigh. He was really hoping that she would have gotten bored of that stupid game by now. But apparently not.

As always, his love life has just become a joke to everyone. Because it's just so funny that poor Stevie can't get a date. He'll die alone while everyone else will end up with someone. That's just his fate, he thinks.

The rest of the night goes by so slowly. It's almost painful for Steve to look at the clock, watching the minutes tick by at a glacial pace. He has never been so eager to go home, actually wanting to be there for the first time in a long time.

He's so close to asking Robin to close up for him because he just realized he doesn't have anything to eat or drink besides shitty beer and a pizza that's been in his freezer since he was a kid. But he decides that he'll just hurry to the store on his way home because he's already had her close for him more times than he can count.

"Would it offend you if I picked out your outfit for tonight? Because no offense, Steve, but this,” Robin refers to his outfit. "Is just not going to cut it.”

“Gee, thanks, Rob.” He's already nervous enough and doesn't need Robin making him second guess what he's going to wear even though he was already going to anyway.

“I'm just saying, would it kill you to switch it up every once in a while?”

“Are you of all people seriously trying to give me fashion advice right now?”

“What's that supposed to mean?” She crosses her arms over her chest as she leans against the counter, fixing Steve with a glare. He doesn't actually mean it, he just suddenly feels a lot of pressure about tonight and he's taking it out on her.

"Nothing, I'm just nervous, alright?" He runs a hand through his hair and just by the look on his face, she can see that he's telling the truth.

"Thought you didn't get nervous." She's smiling smugly now and Steve really doesn't appreciate it.

He ignores her and rounds the counter, making his way over to the door, turning the sign to signify that the store is now closed. He's now counting the minutes until he's able to go home, actively watching the hands on his watch tick, tick, tick by.

"I haven't done this in a while, alright?" He asks as he locks the door. "I'm a little rusty."

"A little?” She scoffs and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Alright a lot.”

“You need to relax. It’s just a date.” But it’s not, not to Steve. He thinks this could actually be something and he hopes he doesn’t blow it this time.

“So are you getting out of here or what?”

“What?” The question genuinely catches him off guard. He didn’t think she’d actually want to close for him since she’s done it so many times in the past.

“I can hold down the fort. Go get the girl, Steve.” He smiles widely, before pressing a kiss to Robin's cheek before hurrying out the door to his car. For once, he actually thinks he has a chance and he’s totally going to take it.

[kisblle]

Dark Paradise IV

Pairing: Low Honor Arthur Morgan x female reader

Part One Part Two Part Three

Word Count: 7,396

Summary: You're reminded that happiness doesn't last forever, especially with Arthur Morgan.

Tags: Heavy angst, pnv, toxic relationship, smut, porn with plot, 18+, MDNI

Author's note: Sorry this took longer than usual to get out, I really wanted to perfect this one because I've had this chapter and the next in my drafts since I got on Tumblr, I just decided to merge it into this story line. Also life has just been so draining lately with my new job and all, I make a lot of money, but at what cost? I feel like I have little time for enjoyable things nowadays.

In a steady, unrelenting rhythm, Arthur moves inside you - again and again. His sweat slicked skin sticks to yours with each powerful thrust, droplets rolling down from his forhead not only from the intensity of your bodies merging, but from the thick, humid air that laces the land of Lemoyne.

He looks down at you gorgeous, wild, and undone. Naked as the day you were born, your hair sprawling like a halo across a patch of shaded grass on the bank of Ringneck Creek. Your breasts bare to the breeze, your warmth wrapped around him, pulling him deeper. The green hues of the grass blend beautifully with the glow of your skin, your eyes telling him everything.

Just the two of you, naked and untamed, lost in the wilderness like creatures meant to mate under open skies. Feral. Primal. Right. Wild. Just animals ritualistically fucking in nothing but the bodies they were born in.

With one final thrust, his eyes lock on your lip between your teeth. “I - I love you,” he gasps, voice breaking as he reaches his climax, pulling out to spill across your soft, heavy chest. He collapses beside you moments later, the earth cool beneath his back, breath catching in his throat as he stares up at the blue sky broken up by branches swaying in the soft wind above him.

Had he really just said that?

Your stomach flips for a moment before he exhales slowly, still smiling, before turning on his side to face you. You wanted to say it back, say those three little, enchanting words as he stares at you completely spent. But something had stopped you. The nerves maybe, or the way he had said it almost too casually, like it had slipped out by accident. But soon, you're not even sure why you're arguing with yourself. The moment fades, lost in the way his lips curve into that boyish grin. He doesn’t bring it up again, and either do you. But those three little words still hang at the end of your tongue, waiting for just the right moment to say them back.

“Lucky no one saw us,” he mutters with a chuckle, breaking you out of your daze. Without thought, he lifts up his hand and scratches his day old stubble before resting his hand on your thigh.

You arch a brow with wide eyes, “You said this was some secret spot you found?”

Arthur laughs, running a hand through his messy hair as he glances toward the pond that curls off the creek. He just laughs, “It's actually a real popular fishin' spot Javier showed me some time ago."

“You bastard.” You purse your lips, pressing a hand to your chest to try and protect your non-extistant modesty as you scan the nearby grass for your discarded dress.

But Arthur only grins wider. Catching your hand before gently pulling you back onto his lap, your bare body melting into him. “C’mon,” he groans softly. “Let’s enjoy it a bit longer. Take a swim? Cool down?”

And when you look into those deep pools of blue when he smiles at you with that chipped tooth grin - it’s damn near impossible to say no.

He holds you bridal style in his broad arms, standing up as he walks to the creek bank, wading in slowly before the sting of the cold pond water hits your bottom, and in a second he drops you from his arms. The chill of water making your nipples peak, catching the attention a a certain pair of wandering blue eyes.

It felt like living inside a storybook, a fairytale you never expected to be part of.

It hadn’t been long since Clemen’s Point, maybe a month and a half, but in that short time, Arthur had done his best to keep the promises he'd made to you. He cared for you in every way he said he would. Steadily and real, like he had promised.

When Sean died, he didn’t pull away like you'd feared. He held you close instead, comforted you not just with touch, but with presence and support.

And then, as the gang's luck soured further, Shady Belle became the saving grace that everyone had needed.

For the first time in what felt like forever, life had rhythm. You were still on chore duty most days, same as always, but Jack was home and safe, and the boys were mostly just laying low. A robbery here, a stagecoach there - even a fancy party hosted by some Brönte guy you knew little about. And for once, everything felt right. Right in a way your godforsaken life rarely allowed.

Maybe it had taken Arthur nearly dying to shake something loose, to snap the both of you into reality. At first, you kept yourself guarded, unsure whether to give him all of you. But slowly, in the quietest ways, you began to trust him.

Falling asleep in his bed. Riding along on his little side quests. The way he actually looked at you like he liked you - needed you, even.

It was such a stark contrast from the months before, it almost felt like he’d turned into someone entirely new, but not new, just changed. His rough edges were still there, his sharp tongue and occasional arrogance - but all of it felt familiar now. Manageable. Nothing you hadn’t already endured.

Arthur smiles as he lowers himself into the water, vanishing beneath the surface for just a breath before rising again, water trickling down his chest and stubble. He gives himself a quick, careless rinse - splashing under his arms, through his light facial hair, and even lifting the girth of himself to splash down there too...his version a bath apparently.

You roll your eyes before dipping lower, letting the cool pond water wash his spend from your body. The tips of your long hair dance across the surface before dipping beneath the waterline, the cool sensation absolutely heavenly against the humidity. You fall into the moment, letting the cool water baptize your skin, letting each curve of your body fall to refreshing sensation.

That is until a strong, wet hand seizes your arm and yanks you up with a jolt.

“Arthur!” you snap, voice sharp with surprise.

“Shhh,” he hisses quickly. “Someone’s comin’. Go hide behind that oak, I’ll grab our stuff.”

Without a second thought, you scramble from the water, feet slipping in the grass as you make for the tree. Behind you, Arthur snatches your disgarded dress with one hand and the rest of his belongings in the other. And just as he fumbles behind the large oak, two men mosey down the creek with fishing poles resting on their shoulders.

They’re too far to see anything crude, but Arthur is still smiling like he's gotten away with murder. Which he has....several times. The cowboy lets out a soft chuckle as you rip your dress out of his hands and quickly slip it over your slicked body, the fabric catching on your curved body from the droplets of water still scattered across your frame. The dress is all that hides you - no bloomers, no chemise, just the thin cloth of light blue dress, one that nearly matches the soft glow of Arthur Morgan's delicate eyes.

“That was a close one,” he laughs, pulling his corduroys over his bare hips, reaching down his fly to adjust his member as he smiles at you with a toothy grin.

Your lips purse under a furrowed brow as he buttons his pants, his eyes not leaving you as he reaches for your hips to pull you close. In a swift motion he pins you to the tree, locking his lips to yours as you wrap your legs around his frame. Wild and free.

You swear there’s a part of him that likes being nearly caught. No matter how much he insists it’s embarrassing, there had been too many close calls for it to just be an accident. Too many actual incidents for you to know that he really doesn't care if he gets caught anyway. Sure there was the incident with Ms. Grimshaw, but that incident with Dutch....that had been too far for you. Yet here he is again, with a grin and flushed cheeks. Like he’s chasing the thrill of being seen out in the open with you, doing something utterly vulgar with two sets of unknowing eyes just a few yards away.

Still, he doesn't care.

It's several minutes before his mouth leave yours, your lips sore and red from how he curls around you. He drops you to your feet, all smiles before he places two fingers between his lips, eyes still focused on you; whistling for that damn nag of his

-

By the time you and Arthur return to Shady Belle, the sun dips low behind the moss covered trees. The air is still thick, but the worst of the heat had passed. Your heart is still heavy and your mind still swollen frome those three little words he had said to you just a few hours ago - but you try and act like you hadn’t even heard them. Arthur dismounts his nag first, then takes you by the waist and lifts you down gently - hand lingering just a second too long as he palms your ass with a firm, deliberate squeeze.

You swat at him, “Oh, stop it,” you scold with a soft laugh, stepping ahead of him with your head turned over your shoulder.

He doesn’t apologize, just watches you walk away with a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, like he knows exactly who you belong to. Like he enjoys annoying you.

But the tender moment is short lived.

“Arthur,” a familiar voice calls out.

It’s Hosea, standing at the edge of the bridge, tipping his hat as you pass. Then his eyes settle on Arthur. “Mind if we have a chat?”

Arthur’s gaze flickers to you, almost as if he's asking for your permission. You turn over your shoulder with a smile, still not used to the way he's become almost so attached he doesn't want to leave your side. But with a raised brow, you smile. “I’m gonna find Mary-Beth.” Excusing yourself into camp without another word.

Arthur watches you walk away for a few beats too long, dazy smile resting on his face. Utterly hyptonitized by the way your hips swing back and forth, turned on knowing there was nothing beneath that dress of yours.

But Hosea’s already walking, motioning with his head toward the small dock poking out near the Lannahechee River.

The gunslinger follows, completely ignorant to whatever Hosea plans to chat about - his mind still only focused on one thing; you.

“What’s this about?” Arthur asks, half paying attention, half not.

Hosea doesn’t answer right away. Just stares out at the river, at the soft ripples reflecting the light of the dying sun.

“You remember Bessie, Arthur?” Hosea says finally, turning to the outlaw with a wise smile.

The gunslinger is taken aback, but he answers, "How could I forget?"

Hosea chuckles for a moment “Course you do.” His eyes seemingly fogging over like he's trying to recall a distant memory. "I remember when she nearly tossed your entire wardrobe into the Montana, claimed it was too smelly for her to wash."

Arthur lets out a soft humorous exhale, recalling the moment from his boy hood. "Woman knew how to make her point."

Hosea's eyes lose the memory, turning to Arthur with a stiff, serious presence. “I loved her you know." The old man waits a few long seconds before turning his gaze deep into Shady Belle. “And that girl of yours… she make you happy?”

Arthur scratches at his beard, caught off guard by the question. He might have been flaunting you around camp these past two months, sure. But that didn’t mean he wanted to sit around and chat about his relationship with you, especially not with his patriarch.

Still, Arthur follows Hosea’s gaze back toward camp, where your laughter carries from the porch. You’re leaned over with Mary-Beth, face glowing, mouth wide open in pure joy as you hit her arm in amusement.

God, you’re beautiful. You were finally starting to get that glow back you once had before he took it all away from you, all those months ago.

With a soft hum and a smirk he doesn’t even realize he's staring as if he's hyptnotized by your laugh. Shaking himself out of his daze before responding, "she's a fine woman.”

Hosea’s eyes flick back to him in a matter of seconds. “But do you love her?"

Arthur’s caught off guard again, brows furrowing as he tears his gaze from you and focuses back on the older man, his voice sharp and confused. "Now why you askin' me a question like that?"

Hosea just chuckles as he notices his son's discomfort, "Cause she brings out somethin' in you that we'd all thought you lost Arthur."

A line forms between Arthur's brows before Hosea lets out a loud exhale. "You were goin' down a bad path for a while son. We all saw how you treated her back at Horshoe Overlook."

A blush of embarassment creeps onto the cowboys cheeks, knowing Hosea wasn't wrong. But even more, recalling all the unwanted chaos and hurt he'd brought you by his actions, and how embaressed he was that he was even capable of such acts.

"I know," Arthur manages to say, voice low and rough.

"She's a good girl that one. Not like you and me." Hosea goes on, his voice soft but positive. "Reminds me of my Bessie."

The cowboy looks down at the tips of his boots before shaking his head back and forth, only looking back up at Hosea as his lips part. "Now I mean no harm, Hosea," he says, squinting slightly as he hooks his thumbs into the loops of his gunbelt. "But why we talkin' bout this?"

Hosea just shakes his head, turning his gaze back to the setting sun bleeding over the river. "I went to pick up the mail yesterday, Arthur," the older man says, straightening up a bit.

Arthurs lips part, but he doesn't make a sound.

Hosea hesitates, then reaches into his satchel, fingers lingering there a moment longer than necessary. "Now, I know you're a grown man." he says, voice low and rough. "And you don't have to listen to an old fool like me."

Slowly, he pulls out a letter, the edges brushing against his wrinkled fingers. Hosea studies the envelope for a long moment, thumbs gently tracing the smooth paper, as he stares at the handwriting. But finally, his gaze lifts, steady and weighted with meaning. "I'm trustin' you not to hurt that girl again," Hosea says, voice stern with something between caution and warning.

The old man presses the envelope into Arthur’s hands, his touch firm, before throwing him one last hesitant look. And before Arthur could even reply, the patriarch turns and walks away, disseapearing back into the heart of Shady Belle.

Arthur’s eyes drop, shoulders stiff as he stares down at the letter in his hands. That damned pale purple envelope. He doesn’t need to open it to know who it’s from, he’d recognize that messy curl of handwriting anywhere.

Mary Linton.

He sighs, long and tired.

What the hell did she want now?

Part of him wants to rip the thing to shreds and throw it into the river without even opening it. But the other part, the bitter, bruised part of him remembers her voice too well. Remembers that last day in Valentine, the look in her eyes before she stepped onto that train like everything she'd ever gone through was his fault.

And it pisses him off.

But worse.

It makes him curious.

His thumb runs under the wax seal, opening the letter against better judgement. And then he’s reading it, eyes skimming over Mary Linton's wonderfully messy handwriting like she was writing to him like they were twenty two again.

A thanks for helping Jamie.

Blaming him, again, for not being the man she could marry.

And a new request; come see her in Saint Denis.

Of course she’s in Saint Denis.

Out of all the places a woman of her standing could be, she just had to be in the same city Arthur was no more than an hour's ride from.

Of course it had to be like that.

It didn’t matter where she went. Mary Linton could’ve written from the edge of Earth, and she knew Arthur Morgan would find a way to get to her. That was the kind of man she had made him into.

Nothing more than a pathetic dog.

But this time, something felt changed.

He’s read that damn letter four times before he lifts his head up from it, holding it tighter than he should have. And as he walks back into camp, he can't help but to feel completely conflicted.

His heart doesn’t belong to Mary anymore, not all of it at the least, Maybe half. Maybe less. The rest... that part was yours. You’d stolen it so quietly he hadn’t even noticed how far it had slipped out of his control.

Hosea had been right, he had become a miserable bastard. But with you, things felt... less so. You made him better. Or tried to. And he wanted to be that man, for you.

But still.

He felt torn in two. Like a man wrestling with a giant.

He shoves the letter into his coat pocket, muttering a curse under his breath, as he trudges towards the center of camp. The cowboy grabs a bowl of stew from the pot bubbling over the open flame, and then a bottle of warm beer from Pearson’s wagon, doing his best to try and clear his mind, and fill his stomach.

He finds the table at the center of camp, empty besides a couple scattered dishes. It only takes a handful of minutes until his spoon is scraping the bottom of the tin bowl as he takes his final bite, but his mind is still caught in the mess of the past. Confliction and guilt tearing him up inside .

But then theres you - bouncing over, smiling like nothing’s wrong in the whole damn world. You drop into his lap with a laugh, arms winding around his neck, eyes soft and wide.

Still wearing nothing underneath.

Your fingers trace his chest, up to his chin, thumb brushing against the roughness of his jaw with a smile. You hesitate for just a moment before saying the words that have been eating you up inside since the afternoon.

“I love you too.”

Four words. Light and easy. But to a man like Arthur Morgan, it was nothing but bullets raining from your mouth.

The gunslinger stiffens. His brow furrowing, nose scrunching like he’s confused, irritated even.

“Why’s you say that?” he mutters, voice low and almost offended.

Your smile instantly drops, freezing for just a moment in his arms before slipping out of his lap and standing up. Blinking at him like he's pulled out his Cattleman's Revolver and shot you straight in the gut.

“Well... this afternoon...” you swallow uncertainly as a worry line forms between your brows, thumbs tangling together in something between frustration and worry.

And then, in the midst of everything, he remembers what he said when he was inside you just hours ago. Flushed and stupid, in the heat of the moment.

He hadn’t lied.

But he also never planned on saying those words so carelessly. Forgetting that he had even admitted that so recklessly to you. The words had flowed from his mouth like instinct, yet, he hadn't thought you'd take them seriously.

For god sake's he was balls deep inside you - you should have known better.

“Yeah, I remember,” he interupts you, much colder than what he means to be. “Just... don’t wanna talk about it right now.”

Your jaw sets and something tightens behind your ribs.

Don’t wanna talk about it?

Talk about what?

Could he not even say it to you?

You fold your arms, bitter laughter bubbling in your gut before you can stop yourself.

“What? Can only say you love me when you’re eight inches deep?”

Arthur rolls his eyes, sighing as his fingers reach for his temples, “You know that ain’t what I meant.”

But you do. You do know. Because this is Arthur Morgan. And no matter how much you love him, no matter how much he'd swear he's changed. He hadn't. Wouldn't. And more than likely - couldn't change. And tonight, he makes you feel like a fool for trying to believe otherwise.

Without thinking a bitter scowl deepens on your face as you grab his beer and dump what’s left of it on his shirt, dropping the glass bottle rather dramatically on the grass next to him. The stew stained tin clatters as he pushes back from the table, arms jolting as he tries to shake off the warm beer now soaking his chest. His jaw sets like stone as his eyes cling to you with nothing but frustration. But before he can say anything, you turn around and shuffle away with tears in your eyes.

“Stupid whore!” He barks after you, the words cutting much deeper than they would have just months ago, when things weren't so serious.

And it’s not until you’re far enough away to cry without being seen, that it really sinks in.

Arthur Morgan couldn't change.

...

It feels like he’d been punched in the gut.

Arthur drags himself up the splintered, rotting staircase of Shady Belle, the weight of everything on his shoulders making him feel that with any step he could fall through. And against better judgement, halfway up the staircase he yanks the damn letter from his pocket again, eyes scanning the words he already knew by heart.

Mary Linton.

God, he was such a fool.

Why hadn’t he just said it back? Why couldn’t he have been normal for once - just said I love you, kissed you breathless, carried you upstairs and fucked you so good you’d say it again and again until he forgot anyone else ever existed?

But no.

You had to say it then, when Mary was still sitting heavy on his chest like a ghost that refused to let go. Right when his heart was stuck in a tug of war. Unsure if he was ready to let go of the past or ready to start really choosing you.

And now, with you gone and that broken look still burned in his memory, all he had was silence. And no matter what the silence meant, he knew one thing.

That his small bed would feel much bigger without you in it tonight.

Arthur tosses the letter onto the chipped old armoire in the corner his room, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. He strips off his beer soaked overshirt, finding his way to his bed as his rubs at his temples. Everything from Mary Linton to you, running a marathon through his brain.

And it isn't more than a few seconds later that he leans back, trying to atleast dream to forget the day.

...

Arthur wakes up later than usual, head foggy, and eyes heavy. Light from the cracked window bleeds into dusty room like some open wound. He blinks, the slight haze from his tired eyes clearing just enough that he could sense movement.

His body stiffens.

You were there.

Standing near the armoire, you're wearing nothing but a thin, pale chemise that catches the light just right. Your nipples peak through the silky fabric in such a way that Arthur almost forgets yesterday as a whole. You look like an angel, something so pure, so opposite of the man he was.

But your eyes... your eyes were wide and wet, lip trembling as he watches you gulp in horror.

And in your hand.

That letter.

He sits up fast, breath catching in his throat. A surge of heat burning in his chest. Guilt, rage and shame. Twisting together into something dangerous.

Your eyes catch him, looking down at him as if he's shot you like some dirty O'driscoll.

“Came up here to apologize,” you gulp, voice cracking like you might break in two. “Don’t even know why" you nearly laugh as you roll your eyes to the ceiling. "Apologizin?...... Apoligizin' for tellin’ you I love you…”

You wipe several tears away with the back of your hand, trying to hide the emotion now lacing your voice. “Well now I know why.”

Arthur’s jaw ticks.

Doesn't speak.

After a nearly restless night, Arthur had decided Mary wasn’t even worth the trouble in the end. But if you were so damn hell bent on painting him as the bad guy then fine. He’d play the damn part.

He's always been good at it anyway.

He sneers as he gets up from the bed, angry that you were already throwing baseless accusations at him at the crack of dawn. But as heat stirs in his chest, he ruffles through his wardrobe anyway. Searching for some nice overshirt that he'd know Mary would at least appreciate, and maybe one that could teach you lesson.

For snooping. For touching things that weren’t yours.

It didn't take a scholar to figure out that he was pissed.

Not just at you for going through his things but at himself, for leaving the damn letter out in the first place. For getting close enough to you that stupid shit like this even mattered. It was Mary for god sake, it's not like she'd even ever want him back.

Just a game of back and forth that they'd always play, and he'd entertain.

You step toward him as he finishes buttoning his shirt. “Don’t ignore me,” you snap, voice cracking under the weight of every emotion you've ever had for him.

He turns to you slowly, something hard and venomous behind his eyes and the look he gives you is poisonous.

“You had no right to go through my things,” he growls, nose flaring like a wild dog. “Ain’t your business what I do. Think just ‘cause I fuck you that means you get to own me?”

The words were sharp, cruel, meant to slice deep. And as much as every flick of his tongue stabbed you, you couldn't help but to feel that he was lying.

You had seen it for a while now, last night even, when had asked you with his eyes for permission to talk to Hosea. Deep down you knew he was just projecting.

But you still flinch, lip trembling again, eyes wide with something between disbelief and heartbreak. Mary's letter still fresh on your mind, his words still bleeding you dry.

And without another word, he brushes past you, out his bedroom door, down the creaking staircase.

You don't hesitate to chase after him. Mary’s letter still crushed in your fist, your feet pounding down the stairs after him. You loved him for god sake, you refused to believe any of his fighting words. Refused to believe that he would choose some ghost of a woman over you.

He storms through the front doors like he was being chased by something a hell of a lot worse than the woman barely stumbling behind him. But your mouth still spits hell fire. "You goin’ to see her?" you accuse him.

He doesn’t answer.

Doesn't even look at you.

You follow him into the heart of camp, the morning air cool and damp against your bare feet. Your voice raising, louder now. Angry, so that anyone could hear.

“So all of this... nothin’ to you?!” Your eyes widen in worry as you march after him like a bat out of hell. "Jus' some waste of my time?"

People turn and watch, but Arthur doesn't stop. Face laced with an etched scowl, eyes locked on his Turkoman and nothing else.

"You bastard!" you shout, grabbing at his shoulder, trying to pull him back to you. Stop him from leaving. "Least look at me! Say it to my face! Tell me I wasn’t enough! Tell me you don’t want me.”

He turns so fast you take a step backward on instinct. His glare vicious, jaw clenched, nostrils flared. An entirely different man than you'd come to know...come to love.

“You weren’t,” he snaps, voice low and mean, like he wantsto hurt you. “And you’ll ain’t ever be her.”

Your mouth drops open, wind knocking from you like a punch to the ribs.

Sure, you’d never be Mary. But you swore that what you and Arthur had shared was more real than the dress sitting on your damn body, then the mud stained to his boots.

You had seen it. Saw it. Nursed it back from the fucking dead.

Just to lose him to some woman that'd never let him go.

In one last act, you grab at his shoulder, letting him hear your final plea as he starts to mount his horse. You heart nearly breaking in two.

"If you ride off to see her, I'm done, Arthur," you spit, voice shaking with a mix of fury and sadness. "I’m leavin'.... won't be here when you come ridin' back."

Arthur’s hand freezes on the reins.

Then, slowly, he looks down at you.

Sneering.

With a jerk of his arm, he violently pulls his arm out of your grip - hard enough to send you stumbling. You trip on a raised root, falling straight onto your behind in the overgrown grass. Legs cocked open pathetically, palms weighing heavy on the ground. Gulping like he'd shoved you down with the force of a million words.

He leans forward in the saddle, adjusting himself as his cold eyes stare at your sad excuse of a body.

“And where you gonna even go?” he asks, voice sharp and cruel, almost as a laugh because in reality he knew you had no one. He gives you one hard stare before digging his spurs into his nag. Leaving you with nothing but the echo of his departure, and the last pieces of your dignity.

For moments you sit there, on the knotting grass. Horses shuffling all around you as tears stream hot down your flushed cheeks, fists clenched in the grass, chest heaving with the reality of your situation.

Caught up in a mess of Arthur Morgan once again.

And the worst part?

He was right.

You had nowhere to go. And he knew it. Knew that you couldn’t go if you tried, no money, no family, just the familiarity of the Van Der Linde gang that was starting to eat each other from the inside.

But in a mess of feelings and tears, you feel the rush of a set of arms engulfing you into a warm hug. It’s Abigail Roberts, her frame slight but her hold firm. She sits with you, stroking your hair, whispering soft comforts even as her voice shakes with something that sounds like fury. “That no good son of a bitch,” she mutters, pulling back just enough to wipe away your tears with her thumbs.

Your eyes meet hers, they're icy and firm, telling a million stories but also a million warnings. “I love him,” you croak, barely able to get the words out.

Abigail had known that kind of heart splintering pain. She’d felt it more times than she could count with John. But you? Still young, still unshackled, no child clinging to your hip, no ring on your finger. The black haired beauty was smarter than what she gave off, she knew what had to happen.

“You gotta get out of here, darlin’,” she says, rising to her feet and offering a hand to help you up.

You sob.

That was your last promise to Arthur anyway, wasn’t it?

“He's right. Got no money. Nowhere to go,” you cry, shaking your head, voice breaking as all you wanted truly was to be gone. Forget him. Forget everything. Respect yourself enough to stop playing outlaw.

Abigail’s mouth tightens, leading you beneath the shade of her tent, easing you down on her cot. She rifles through her wardrobe as broken sobs escape your mouth. But in the midst of it all, she pulls out a thick, lumpy sock, and turns back toward you. “Was gonna use this for myself, once upon a time,” she says, tugging out a fistful of cash, slapping it on her hand a few times. “But it’s too late for me. Not for you.”

Your eyes are wide, still glistening, staring at the chunk of bills resting in her hand. Your lips parting as she attempts to slip the wad into your hand.

“I - I can’t...” you whisper, cheeks wet with tears and hesitation.

“No, you are,” she cuts in, firmer than you’ve ever heard from her. Something maternal in her tone, something resolute. “Trust me, a girl like you’s got a future. A bright one. Brighter than whatever all this is.” She pauses, her voice softer now. “And Arthur....better leave now before you wake up a few days late with a swollen stomach."

Your gaze locks with hers, wide and wordless.

Her words hit you harder than you thought they would.

And suddenly you understood.

It was time to go.

...

Twenty minutes later, you’re back in the room you’ve shared with Arthur for the past month. His clothes are still scattered around, his beer stained overshirt from last night crumpled at the foot of his bed. You wonder who’ll wash it now, it wouldn't be you this time.

You gulp and reach beneath the bed, pulling out the old suitcase you brought with you to Milwaukee all those years ago, chasing something better. It had belonged to your mother before Typhoid took her.

You pop it open. Inside: a few forgotten pieces of a past life. A locket with your parents’ faces inside. A shirt you never wore but couldn’t throw away. And a small black and white portrait from Blackwater, the one you took just hours before Arthur took your innocence.

You stare at the photo. Less than a year had passed, but you hardly recognize the girl in it. Smiling, light still untouched. So different from who you are now. Used and broken.

And before you pack the last of your things, you set the portrait on the table beside Arthur’s bed.

You wanted to forget him, forget the hurt.

But part of you, wanted him to remember.

Wanted him haunted.

...

Outside the rotting mansion, Hosea stands waiting. Pulling you into a soft, fatherly hug, his voice low with sorrow. “I’m sorry, girl,” he murmurs.

He’d seen it all. Last night’s heartbreak, this morning’s silence. He watched Arthur ride off, watched Abigail hand you that money with trembling hands and a tight jaw. Heard her beg you to go. Guilt weighing on his shoulders as he knew the cowboy would still be here if he hadn't handed him the letter.

But Arthur was a god damn adult. And Hosea had agreed with Abigail, better to leave now before other circumstances could tie you to him.

And as much as it hurt Hosea to see you go, he couldn't help to feel relieved. To at least know someone was getting out, someone good.

You swallow hard. Tears gone, but grief remains.

You weren’t just leaving Arthur.

You were leaving the only family you’d known for years. The people that had taken you in when you had nothing to show, and no one to care for you. Family more than friends at this point.

“Say your goodbyes,” Hosea says gently, rubbing your arm with his thumb. “I’ll take you to Rhodes. Buy you a train ticket to wherever you need to go.”

...

The streets of Saint Denis buzz with life, hooves clicking on cobblestone as the sun shines high in the midst of the Lemoyne sky. Mary Linton’s delicate arm loops through Arthur’s as they step out of the Rauler Theatre, both of them smiling.

Arthur could admit it, he’d had a good time. How could he not? Mary had once been his world. Maybe part of him would always feel something for her. But as they strolled toward the trolley stop, shoulder to shoulder through the heavy air of the city, something felt utterly different.

Hollow.

There was no fire in his chest. No ache. No heat behind his eyes.

It felt less like love and more like memory, a good time with an old friend. Sonething he could cheerish, but didn't need to survive.

And that’s when he remembered you.

The way you made his pulse jump with just your smile. The way your voice sounded like angel's singing, even if you were just telling him off. He remembers the way you smiled even when he didn’t deserve it. And then, above everything, he remembers the way you looked at him the last time. Eyes full of hurt, mouth trembling as he shoved you away.

While Arthur just didn't want to feel controlled, you felt betrayed.

And now all he felt was sick.

His boots slow on the busy sidewalk. Coming to a full stop without truly realizing where he was or who he was with.

“Arthur?” Mary’s voice breaks through his deep haze.

He blinks, realizing he hadn’t heard a word she had said since they left the old threatre. “Sorry,” he mutters.

She watches him for a beat, her chocolate eyes unreadable. “I said... is it too late for us?” Her voice cracking slightly, more a plea than a question as she holds his hands tighter.

Arthur inhales through his nose, heavy and ragged. He knew the answer. Had known it for a long time.

“I can’t lie, Mary. I... I got a woman back home” he says quietly, almost embaressed. Gently slipping her arm from his.

Mary’s expression falters for a brief moment, her face clearing from any found emotion. But in a few short seconds she grins with a sense of meloncholy.

“And I ain’t even really sure why I’m here,” Arthur adds, voice breaking with sudden clarity, the weight of his betrayal sinking in. “I shouldn’t’ve come. I’m sorry.”

Mary nods, her composure surprisingly steady despite the slight shimmer in her eyes. “Treat her better than me,” she says simply.

And in a second, Arthur turns and leaves, heart pounding, stomach in knots.

He’d fucked up.

But more than anything did he want to fix it.

Not with words. Not with excuses. But with a promise.

By the time he reached the jeweler, his hand was already on the wad of cash. He didn’t want something stolen. Didn’t want some rag tag ring from a fence.

No, this had to be real. Something with weight. With meaning.

Something that said: I’m yours. For good.

Something with a promise.

...

Back at the train station, the sky had started to turn grey. Rain slightly drizzling over the covered platform as Hosea tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle as always.

“Don’t cry,” he murmurs, a small tear falling down your cheek.

“I’m scared,” you admit, glancing down at the train ticket in your hand. You hadn’t told him where you were going. You figured it was safer that way, for everyone involved. Hosea hadn’t asked either. Maybe he didn’t want to know. Maybe he just didn’t want Arthur beating it out of him in the long run.

It didn't take much for you to imagine the storm of Arthur riding back into camp. Throwing tongue every which way when he realized his bed whore had gone missing.

The twisted thought slightly comforted you. You knew Arthur well enough to atleast know he would be mad at your departure, no matter what he had told you before he left

“You can always write,” he says, voice full of hope “Don’t know how long we’ll be at Shady Belle, though. You know Dutch.”

You manage a watery laugh." Oh, I know." You falter for a few moments as you gaze into the wisdom laced eyes of Hosea, his soft look sending you into a spin of tears. “I’m just scared of being…”'

"Alone," he finishes your sentence.

He chuckles. “We can’t be such a great bunch that you think there’s no one better out there.”

You give him a humorous look, tears still staining your cheeks. A happy goodbye. “You know that ain’t what I mean.”

The train’s whistle shrieks in the distance. Passengers begining to stir from their seats, grabbing bags, shuffling to the edge of the platform.

Hosea turns to face the tracks, then glances back to you. “Promise me one thing,” he says, his voice low and firm.

You look up, eyes wide like a doe.

“Don’t come back lookin' for us. Save yourself."

...

Arthur’s horse thunders down the muddy path toward Shady Belle, his coat soaked and his wallet a few hundred dollars lighter. The gold ring in his pocket - a golden band with a pearl in the center - feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds.

He imagined you wearing it. Naked on the banks of Ringneck Creek, riding him, the ring catching sunlight as your hand brushes over his hair.

Utterly his.

The camp is quiet as he gallops in. He doesn't even bother to untack his horse, too charged with excitement. He leaps off and storms through like a mad man, eyes scanning the outlaw camp for a sillouette of you.

You weren’t there.

But your strange dissapearence doesn't even register until two small fists beat into his back.

“You no good son of a...”

He spins, catching Abigail Roberts wrists mid swing. She thrashes against his grip, wild with rage.

“What the hell?” Arthur stammers, confused and surprised it wasn't you beating on him. He would understand if it was you, warranted in fact.

But Abigail?

“She’s gone, you bastard!” the black haired beauty snarls, driving her boot into his groin as hard she can.

Arthur collapses, wheezing as he drops her arms from his grip.

From across camp, John jogs over, pulling his wife's arms behind her back in anyway to control her outburst.

Arthur's painful wheezes dissapear in a moment's time, turning to an almost panic.

“What...what she mean? She's gone?” he coughs as he looks up at John for clarification, moving back to his feet.

John grimaces. “She’s gone, Arthur. She left."

Arthur froze.

Gone?

No.

You didn't know how to ride, wouldn't dare try to find your way in swamps like these. And above everything - you had said you loved him, just last night.

You wouldn't leave.

And he was ready now. Finally ready to love you back the way you deserved.

His stomach twisting, panic shifting to fury, anger.

He turned to John, eyes flashing. “Where did you take her? Couldn’t stand that I was happy for one good time in my life.”

John face drops, angry at just the accusation. "I ain't take nowhere," John sneers, continueing to hold Abigail back from trying to rip Arthur to pieces. "But I don't blame her for leavin' you either."

If John hadn't been using Abigail as if she was a human sheild, Arthur would have torn his brooding equal to shreds at that very moment. But before he could push the black haired woman away, a gentle voice cuts through the shouting.

Arthur turns, all eyes finding the small frame of Hosea Matthews. The old man sits at the dominoes table, calm as ever. Standing up and pushing his chair in without his eyes leaving the game.

"I took her to the train station in Rhodes," he speaks

Arthur’s anger breaks, replaced by something broken and raw. Lips parting.

“I told you not to hurt her,” Hosea says, eyes finally meeting the cowboys. More dissapointed than ever.

Arthur couldn’t keep his gaze. His eyes dipping to the tips of his boots. Shame rolling over him like a wave. If it had been anyone else -John, Bill, even Dutch, he’d have thrown fists.

But it was Hosea.

The one who warned him.

The only who told him to do better.

Arthur’s voice cracks as he breaks the silence, barely above a whisper. “Where is she?”

Hosea shakes his head.

“Gone, she's gone Arthur."

[cry4mina]

Heaven

(Nayeon x Fem!reader)

Word Count: 6.9k

Fluff/Smut

Summary: After being with Nayeon for a while, it's clear that she is your future. You both decide it's time to move in with each other, this fic takes place on move in day!

TW: Fluffy, cute, oral, fingering, a little nipple play, strap ons, teasing, lots of almost moments. Let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: @dovveri (the precious angel) had asked me to expand on this MONTHS ago and I took my sweet ass time (I stalled bc fluff is not my strong suit.) BUT it here now and I hope you enjoy it!<3

Also! Happy 6 Months to Cry4Mina! I know I say I'm grateful for all of you all the time but hitting 600 followers AND it being my 6 months of writing has really just been amazing.

Thank you all for taking the time to read my works, the support you've given me and all the love! I'm really looking forward to writing a lot of the drafts that I have, and interacting with everyone! I hope you all have such a lovely day/night and get you a little sweet treat! <3

The walls are blank. Every place where art once hung, now patched with tack and smoothed over. Boxes lining the small living room and parts of the kitchen…reliving some of the sacred memories built here when your phone chimes, interrupting the sweet thoughts. You to pull it out of your pocket to check the notification.

Nay: I’m outside baby (9:45am)

Not even bothering to reply, you just pull the door open to see a U-haul truck backed into the parking spot closest to your soon to be old front door and Nayeon no where in sight.

Looking around in confusion, you hear the clattering of the big metal rolling door on the back of the truck.

Eyes meeting the sound as it rattles, ascending upwards and stopping in place. A petite Nayeon lifting it and climbing into the back to push it all the way to the top, revealing the empty truck she rented just for the things you decided to bring along with you.

She leaves you completely breathless, per usual…but today, being the day you were moving in together, your heart throbbed with love and affection for your beautiful girlfriend.

White sneakers with long white socks up to her knees, black shorts that were intentionally too short, a top that had hints of purple and a trucker hat to finish the look off. Appearing as if she just got out of a photoshoot or filming a video or something more extravagant than helping you move.

Your jaw hit the floor as she half jogged up to you, and jumping into your arms and wrapping her legs around you, expecting you to hold her up while her forearms found their place on your shoulders and her hands were interwoven with themselves.

Being sure to catch her, providing some support from under her, she lean back and grabbed your cheeks, kissing them one, two, three times before completely beaming at you from the few inches she had of height on you in this position.

“Hi, baby!,the ” another kiss, this one on the lips, to taper off her sentence while her hands found their way around your neck once more.

“Hi, my love, you look amazing.” absorbing her like flowers take in the sun, feeling her skin on yours was magic.

“Only for you.” watching as her eyes convert to a half lidded seduction, her tone emanated a specific type of want that could only be translated privately, very very privately.

Nayeon reverts the seductive face, unwrapping her legs and stand on her own, keeping her hands connected around your neck and pulling you into an even bigger hug, fingers tapping on your shoulder blades to the song she was humming, before shimmying in your arms.

Both of you start giggling before she finally lets go of you, very obviously excited about this adventure you were going on together. Her hand finds yours, lightly gripping it and swinging it around while she talks.

“Okay, so the movers should be here any minute - we are loading what you’re keeping into this truck” pointing to the one that she pulled up in.

“And anything we are going to donate will go in the movers truck, they will drop it off and then we will go…home, the movers will meet us there and we will get everything organize. Sound like a plan?” the loving look she gives you when she says home made your knees weak, jelly filled joints fighting to hold the weight of the love you held for her every thing she did, but especially when she said something sweet or looked at you a certain way.

“Sounds good, babe.” uttered over the squeaking of the brakes from the truck of movers that just pulled up and her squealing at the sight of them.

The 3 men come over, asking you for detailed instructions on what to keep and what to put in the “donation” truck. Most of the things you were keeping was in boxes but you were keeping your king sized bed, Nayeon was too in love with it to even think about getting a new one.

“But it’s already broken in on my side, I don’t want to do that again. Don’t you like sleeping on a cloud? I can’t believe you’re considering a new one…” argued a few weeks ago when you half way discussed what furniture you wanted to keep.

Both of you decided the living room would be the focus first, you’d want a new couch if anything. Wanting to pick out the decorations together for each room would be a fun bonding experience and that was something you were very much looking forward to.

“Alright, we will get started.” One of the men said, walking into the living room and starting with the couch you weren’t going to keep, taking it to the donation truck while you and Nayeon focused on the boxes.

Slowly removing everything from the apartment until it was completely empty, you couldn’t help but have a little moment of sadness, not that you were upset about this new chapter in your life with Nayeon, but more so the memories of this apartment and what it meant to you.

Nayeon sees you staring at the bare walls and taking the last walk through of the place to make sure everything was taken care of. Waiting for you to have your moment, she doesn’t rush you, simply leaning on the door frame with her arms crossed, silently watching the emotions change across your face.

It’s an emotional transition, even if it’s a good one. This place was where you built your relationship, the foundation of the steady and healthy bond you and her shared. Moving in together was a massive step that you were more than ready to take, but you couldn’t help allow the nostalgia consume you for a moment as a few tears roll down your cheek.

Feeling her eyes on your back, the edges of your mouth turn up knowing the exact look she’s giving you before you even see it.

“I can feel you watching me” giggling through the droplets that threatened to drip down your chin, you try to wipe them before she can see.

“Don’t try to hide it, I know you’re crying!” she walks up behind you, giving you a hug from behind and resting her head on your shoulder blades.

Sniffling while trying to gain your composure again, Nayeon just holds you until your breath smooths out more. Rocking you from side to side in attempts to comfort you.

“Don’t worry, baby” spinning you around carefully so you can face her; she likes to make eye contact when she speaks.

“This is going to be great! And do you want to know the best part?” leaning into you, putting her weight on you to make you hold her back.

“What’s the best part, my love?”

“We get to do it together!” Nayeon practically tackles you to the ground, smooching you all over the face and tickling you in the process.

Rolling around and trying to avoid her hands as you both laugh, you love how playful your relationship with her is. She always knew how to make you smile, in every single way you could imagine.

Once she put a halt to the tickle fest she brought on, she was straddling you on the floor, hands resting on your stomach and your hands were on her thighs. You sit up, placing your hands on her ass and scoot her into you.

Faces so close you can feel her breath on your lips, you can tell she’s riled up from the way you’re looking at her and your hand placement, it was easier to get her worked up - easier than she would like to admit.

Reaching your hands up from your girlfriend’s thighs and trailing them up her chest, watching as her breath hitches when you pass her collarbones.

Gliding your digits up her neck and to her cheeks, you feel her flush - a noticeable wave of heat rushing through her.

Sight going from her lips, up to her eyes, and then back down to her lips again, you bring her mere centimeters from your mouth.

Her breathing speeds up.

Feeling her heart race through your fingertips, the way her eyes were locked in on you, and the way she held you close without an inch of wiggle room…you knew exactly what she was thinking about…and what she wanted.

“Baby” breathed to her, teasing her with your whispers and the distance between your lips.

Nayeon’s is completely enthralled, looking like she wants to beg for you to touch her. Eyes returning to their half lidded state from earlier, she starts rocking her hips on your lap, you stop her immediately.

“Not yet, baby. We still have work to do…and I want pizza for dinner.” kissing her forehead before standing with her still attached to you.

“You’re like a koala, you know that?” chuckling at her for not letting go of you, bringing her outside with you and locking the door.

She whines really loudly, “Fuck you, ugh”

“Whyyyyyyy? What did I do?!” gasped back in fake shock, you knew exactly why she was saying it. She rests her head on your shoulder.

“Because, you did that on purpose!” Pouting at the state she’s in.

“Did what on purpose, honey?” kissing her cheeks while walking her to your car that she was planning on drive to the new place.

Nayeon gets down off you and sticks her hands out for your keys with a fake attitude, you dangle them in front of her. She attempts to snatch them, but you’re too quick and she misses.

“Did what on purpose?” poking her chest lightly just to get a little rise out of her.

She leans into your ear closely, playing with the collar of your shirt before she speaks soft sultry words right into you.

“For making me wet and making me wait to feel you.”

Jaw dropping for a second time tonight, she kisses your check tenderly. Winking at you while she bites her lip. She takes the keys out of your hand and replaces them with the U-Haul keys.

“Last one home buys dinner!” rapidly getting into the car and backing out of the driveway.

Still standing in the same spot, unable to stop yourself from smiling at how goofy she is. Shaking your head while giggling, it’s impossible not to fall deeper in love with her by the day.

Turning around one last time, admiring what was home in the afternoon light before getting into the truck and going to what was your next chapter of life.

—

The drive wasn’t too long, maybe 30 minutes at most. Driving in silence, you’re excited to get settled in your new place. Living in the memory of when you and Nayeon toured the apartment you’d be moving into.

Hardwood floors, vaulted ceilings, massive windows that were floor to ceiling, and the lighting fixture in the dinning area that Nayeon fell in love with.

Remembering the way she exclaimed “baby, look at this!” At every turn, around every corner, you both knew this was the place you were going to start the adventure of living together.

The island in the kitchen was what you were particularly excited about, having more room to cook for her when you had a moment. She didn’t know that was the intention, but being able to surprise her with it some night would be great.

Turning the corner to the complex, you already see your car in the assigned spot. Nayeon is leaning on the drivers side door, scrolling through her phone when you back the truck in next to her.

“Ha! Dinner is on you tonight!” Happily skipping over to the drivers side door as you hop out of the truck.

“Yeah, yeah!” waving your hand and rolling your eyes before smirking at her.

“Pepperoni and extra cheese, please!”

“Alright, alright. Let’s go check out the place!” putting your hand out in front of her with puckered lips, waiting for your keys and a kiss, she’s happy to give both.

—

As you reach the elevator, you notice the weight of your keys is different. Looking down while stepping into the metal box what was going to get you to the floor you apartment was on - you notice a light blue key with an N and a heart on it.

Toying with the key in your hand, you look up at her to see she’s distracted and doesn’t know that you’ve noticed the cute little surprise she’s placed on your key ring while she was waiting for you to arrive.

“Baby” called to her softly from a foot away.

Nayeon looks over at you, eyes looking directly into yours and then down at the keys in your hands, showing her the one she placed on your keyring.

She smiles, pulling her keys off her belt loop, flashing you a key with your initial and a heart next to it, in your favorite color.

“I thought it would be a nice cute little surprise for our move in day.” intertwining her pinky with yours.

“Thank you, it’s so cute and thoughtful.”

The elevator dings, sliding the doors open and allowing you and your girlfriend to step into the hallway.

Taking the corridor to the right, Nayeon basically pulling you to the door of your new home. The door was black with shiny brass numbers reflecting back to you.

She slips her key into the door, the heavy lock turns and clicks into place. Nayeon looks over at you and smiles before pushing the door open and squealing in excitement, jumping in place. Gosh, she’s so cute.

Grabbing her hand before she can run inside, you pull her close to you, pressing your body against hers. She’s going to take this as you teasing her, but really you just had something you wanted to do.

“Wait a sec, I think we should be a little traditional about this.”

“Traditional?” Scoffed at you while her hands are wrapped around your waist.

“Yeah, traditional…” placing your hand behind her legs and scooping her up into your arms, bridal style, before she can protest.

Nayeon squeals at being lifted up but her arms instinctively wrap around your neck. When she realizes what you’re doing she starts giggling at the sweetness of the moment.

Unable to take her eyes off you as you take your step over the threshold into your new home. One of her rather large hands descends to your chest, placing it flat under your collar bone.

“Home.” said lightly under your breath but loud enough for her to hear you, panning the emptiness of the apartment you were about to fill with not only your physical things, but the love you had for each other.

Removing her hand off your chest, she uses her fingers to turn your head towards her and kisses you softly.

“Home.” Pointing one of her fingers into your chest, bring her lips back to yours.

Resting your foreheads together, you lower her legs to signal her to stand on her own. She whines in protest, leaning against you as she fights against regaining her balance.

“Are you ready?” Grabbing her hand, looking her in the eyes and smiling.

“Never been more ready, actually.” Kissing the top of your hand, grabbing her phone and checking her messages to see the other team of movers was outside and ready to move the furniture into your new space.

“They’re here!” Gleefully jumping in place again before heading for the door.

“Let’s go!” Following closely behind her and slapping her ass playfully.

Nayeon lets out a soft moan. Whipping around to look at you to see if you’ve heard, covering her mouth with her hand trying to hide her own shock and the flushing in her cheeks.

Eye widen as before you let out a thunderous laugh.

“Don’t worry, baby. We can take care of that later.” Kissing her forehead and leading her down to the elevator by her hand, with her trying to cover the flushed cheeks she now wears in embarrassment.

—

“Hmm…maybe a little more to the left? This doesn’t feel centered to me.” Nayeon is pensive, finger on her cheek as she asks the movers, yet again, to move the bed over so it’s perfectly centered in your new bedroom.

“Babe, it looks fine where it is!” Chiming in from the closet where you were hanging all of the clothes you had smartly packed on hangers so they’d be easier to deal with.

Organizing the closet so the left side was hers and the right side was yours, you could hear her sigh from the other room.

Picturing her exact movements in your minds eye, you knew she was shifting her weight from one leg to another, biting her pointer finger with her other arm crossed over her chest.

“Okay…I hear you…but what if we scooted it over just a little bit to the ri-“ sneaking up behind her and silencing her with a soft bite to the neck causing her to stifle a whine.

“I think it’s perfect where it is, Nayeon.” kissing her cheek before you turn your attention to the movers.

“Thank you so much for your help today!” shaking their hands as they leave the room and walk out the front door.

“Baby, I really don’t know if I like the bed in this position or not.” Nayeon’s hands are on her hips again, trying to figure out if it would look better centered on the other wall.

“Honey…we can rearrange any time we want. No worries, let’s just get the rest of the house together, okay?” you throw the sheets at her for her to make the bed she was scowling at and head back to continue what you’ve been doing in the closet.

Nayeon followed you into the closet, sheets in hand, with a pout that would make anyone drop what they’re doing to please her.

“What’s wrong, my love?” Pausing the organizing of your clothes as you spoke to her.

“I’m hungry and the bed is crooked.” she sighs and give a playful little stomp, throwing the cutest tantrum you’ve ever seen.

“I’ll order the pizza now then, okay?” pulling your phone out to send through the order you already prepared for the two of you.

“But what about the bed?”

“We can fix it later, okay? Just put the sheets on it and we will worry about it after dinner.”

Nayeon rolls her eyes and heads out of the closet to complete the task at hand.

After about 5 minutes goes by, a frustrated grumble echoes through the room, followed by shouting and sighing.

“Ugh! This bed is crooked! It’s not freaking centered!” Nayeon huffs as she finishes putting the sheets on, trying to scoot the heavy bed and frame over an inch or two to make it “centered”.

She’s so dramatic.

You adore this part of her.

“Let me see.” Finishing up the last of the closet and stepping out to see what she how “crooked” it was.

The bed was straight against the wall…there’s no way it could’ve actually been crooked. Giving her a side eyed glare, you lightly push her shoulder.

“It’s perfectly straight, what do you mean?” Chuckling at her while you put your hands up in confusion.

“No, it’s not! Look!”

Nayeon squats down in front of the bed, point and explaining how it’s not lined up with the floor boards and all you can do is admire how passionately she’s making her case about something so silly.

Just smiling, you walk up to her as she continues on her rant about the bed.

“So you see, that’s why it’s not straight because this is…not…” tilting her head up, eyes lacing every part of you as you step up to her and place a finger under her chin.

“I think it looks good, don’t you?” leading her to stand, her eyes still not leaving you.

Nayeon stutters through her mentions of now suddenly agreeing with you.

“O-oh, uhm…y-yes, I don’t t-think we should move it at all.”

She’s so cute.

Hooking a finger into on of her belt loop, tugging it so she somewhat falls into you. Using that to your advantage, swiftly turning and falling yourself. Landing flat with your back on the bed with her strategically on top of you.

Her surprised face hovering over yours, she hoists her leg over your torso, straddling your hips instinctively and putting you right back where you were only a few hours ago at your old apartment.

“Oops, wow! I can’t believe you would trip like that. So clumsy of you! Even if I do love meeting you like this…” tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear.

“And what if I meet you like this” leaning in and brushing her lips against yours, the warmth between her legs gives a flash of familiarity, and her sultry tone brings a rush of endorphins, melting your heart and ruining any sense of composure you had.

“I can feel your heart beating…do I still make you nervous?” whispered against your lips before connecting them completely.

Soft and slow turns into passionate and needy very quickly.

The steamy make out session escalated into you tugging Nayeon’s shirt off, trying to minimize the time your lips spent apart.

Nayeon’s tongue tracing your lips before she stood up and started undoing on your belt, the clattering of her impatience matching the buckle as it hit the floor.

Hastily unbuttoning your pants, tugging them down without hesitation. She needed you, rapid movements serve as proof of her hunger, the way she doesn’t care how aggressively she’s ripping the black denim off your thighs.

Haphazardly tossing each piece of clothing as she rips it off you, first your belt, then your pants, and your shirt following very closely behind, your hands helping discard the unwanted fabric.

“Finally…I get to have you how I’ve been wanting you allll da-“

The doorbell cuts her sentence off.

“You’re kidding…” Nayeon’s body tenses, sighing as she runs a finger down your stomach as she rolls her eyes in disdain at who ever just pushed the button that caused the chime that stopped her from taking you the way she had been imagining.

“That would be dinner.” Giggling at her frustration, only adding to it.

Nayeon just rolls her eyes and stands up, grabbing her shirt and throwing it on while mumbling to herself and mindlessly flicking off the front door before opening it.

You opt to just slip on a pair of black sweat pants and walk around in your sports bra, leaving your bedroom and hearing her say thank you to the pizza delivery boy before latching the door shut and locking it.

Grabbing some paper plates from the kitchen, bringing them to the empty living room and sitting on the floor next to Nayeon, and turning the TV on to put on a random YouTube video while you guys eat.

Taking a few bites and then looking over at her, you see she’s scrolling through her phone with an annoyed look on her face.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“What do you think about this?” Flipping her phone around to show a coffee table with a glass top made of light wood and gold accents.

“Oh that’s cute!” Leaning into her and scrolling to see if it had any matching sets.

“So I was thinking” she starts, “what if we did like a sage green with gold accents and with like light wood and a lot of plants for the living room.” taking a bite of her slice of pizza and doing a little happy dance now that she’s finally eating.

“I love that idea but let’s do a little contrast.” Clicking on the black version of the gold laced table and showing her.

“Wait…you might be on to something here.” Scrolling down and seeing the matching furniture that goes along with the table.

“I did save a couch I saw, let me find it.” quickly pulling up the lighter green couch she had in mind and showing it to you.

“Oh, babe, that’s perfect!” Leaning over and kissing her cheeks before taking another bite of your pizza.

“I think it would match so well with the gold accents and…” she rattles on about

Spending the entirety of dinner talking about placement and furniture, you find yourselves tired from a long day of planning, organizing and moving things around.

Taking it upon yourself to pack up the left-overs from dinner in the kitchen, you can’t help but wonder where your girlfriend has gone off too.

“Nayeonieeeeeeeee!” called out when you hear her cackle from the master bedroom.

“I’m in here, baby!” echoed off the walls to the empty living room.

“You better not moving that bed again!” Sliding the pizza box into the fridge, laughing to yourself about the joke you just made.

“I’m NOT! Ugh!” you walk into your new shared bedroom to see Nayeon on FaceTime with Momo, talking about the moving process and how smoothly it went with the company she recommended.

Catching her attention was fairly easy as you were still very shirtless and the sweatpants you wore to cover up were a little big on you, falling off almost so the waistband of your underwear was sticking out for her to see.

“Momo when you come over tomorrow, we will give you a tour! Besides we still have some…things to…” she’s staring right at you, eye shifting from your exposed waistband up to your bare torso.

An idea pops into your head, an idea that would bring her to her knees and back to where you were an hour or two ago.

Making eye contact with her while she zones out, you tug on the string that is keeping your sweatpants anchored on your hips, letting them drop to the floor before you step out of them. Her jaw drops at how suddenly exposed you are with only your panties and your bra covering you…for now.

Slipping your fingers under the hem of what was covering your chest, you slowly pull it off over your head, leaving you in just your underwear. Twirling the bra by it’s strap around your finger, you fling it at her, it lands on her legs.

Nayeon’s eyes bugged out of her head, like a cartoon character, as she sat up - readjusting her position out of what seemed to be a little bit of gay panic mixed with anticipation.

“….hey, uhm…let me call you back.” Nayeon quickly hangs up the phone as Momo’s protest began through the speaker.

“Wait! Nayeon we have to talk abou-” click.

You have her right where you want her.

She stands, hastily making her way over to you. Hands reaching out to make contact, she’s pulling you in close, laying her hands on your hips and tracing small circles that travel to your lower back and to the waistband she was just staring at.

“You have all my attention, honey.” kissing your cheeks, trailing feather-light kisses down your jaw line and onto the side of your neck before bringing her lips back to yours.

Within minutes of this sweet dangerous kiss beginning, you’d devolve into a melted version of your former self with only her name stuck in your throat and the flavor of her lips at the tip of your tongue as it familiarizes itself with hers again, noting every predicted movement and sway of her as she holds you in front of her.

Arms raising up and resting on her shoulders, your fingers weave with her hair, pulling her into your further and pressing your chest against her same purple shirt from earlier.

“Take this off.” parting from her for only a moment to give her the command to remove the article of clothing that was in your way before returning your mouth to hers.

Maintaining eye contact, she rips her shirt over her head, tossing it somewhere else and continuing on the entanglement you were creating with her, unsnapping her bra and letting it chase her shirt to else where.

Now shirtless with you, chests pressing up against each other, she takes charge. Leading you to the “crooked” bed and pushing you down onto the sheets, playfully.

“Finally,” she breathes, unbuttoning her shorts and letting them fall to the floor and kicking them out of the way.

“I’ve been thinking about this since I saw you this morning. And when you carried me over the threshold?” clenching her entire body at the memory, a familiar shutter cascades through her body.

“I never wanted you more than in that moment…except for maybe right now.”

Watching as she relaxes again, her hands on either side of you, and she’s making half lidded eye contact with you when she brings a hand down your stomach, ghosting it over your underwear and reminding your body of what it was feeling earlier.

Leaning down to kiss you again, she’s intensifying her touch on you. Rubbing your clit through the now damp fabric of your underwear and letting you moan and whine into her mouth. The touch is fueling every fire you’ve felt in the last 12 hours.

“Fuck…Nayeon” whined into her mouth as she pulls your panties to the side, drenching her finger in your slick, coasting it up and down your slit while you match her movements with your hips.

She spends a moment kissing and toying with your chest, flicking your nipples with her tongue, lightly grazing her teeth over them. She slithers back up to your face and kisses you again.

“Finally touching you after a long day of wanting to feel you like this…” bringing her hand up to lick your essence off her long digits.

“To taste you like this…” bringing her lips down to yours, kissing you deeply and letting your own taste linger on your tongue.

Usually being the one that maintains composure, you were finding it difficult to keep the pace steady, after all the “almost�� moments earlier today, you were having thoughts of just flipping her over and doing all the work.

Intense bodily reactions that are out of your control fling you into desperation, body begging for more of her touch, and gripping her harder to make sure she knows what you want, though it was obvious, your body language gave you away.

The rocking of your hips, the repressed moans, the less than pure lust that burned you from the inside were shinning through every single motion you made.

Nayeon noticed.

Her teeth graze your ear before she descended down your body with small bites, intentional swipes of her tongue and soft sweet pecks in between.

It wasn’t long before your ass was hanging off the edge of the bed and she was on her knees between your legs.

Without even looking at her, you can feel the smirk she has as she tugs on the elastic that was holding what was in her way up, and removes it - almost ripping it in the process.

“Damn, baby. You look so fucking good like this.” running her thumb up and over your clit a few times, teasing your entrance with every few passes.

Brain glitching under her touch, the cravings were too strong and you were too addicted to contain yourself any longer. Thrusting your hips down on her next tease of your entrance, her thumb slips inside you causing a guttural moan to leave your throat.

“Someone is eager.” giggled at you before removing her thumb, licking your slick off of it.

Whining in protest, you are about to beg for her when you feel it. The warmth of her tongue, starting at the bottom of your entrance and snaking its way up your folds and over your clit before latching onto it.

“Nayeon, ple- ooooh fuck!” hissed out in pleasure, hands flying up to the back of her head, wrapping her hair up in your hands and holding it into a makeshift ponytail as her tongue made work of you.

A delicate dance that she was more than good at, teasing and flicking at your sensitive bud before finally starting the pattern that she knew was what was going to keep you right where she needed you.

Sucking and smacking while she whirled her tongue in tightknit circles around your clit, completely focused on the way your back was arching, body twitching underneath her, and the sounds you were making for her.

Moaning her name, the breathy “oh fucks”, and the unprovoked “please please please” always made a mess of her underwear. She loved to hear you in this way, loved to have you in such a vulnerably delicious position to which she could bring you every ounce of pleasure you could ever want.

The build up ensues, the tightly woven tension in your core was stacking like tetris on the want that had been taunting you all day. Deep, primal yearning for your partner was all consuming and it was apparent that the feeling was mutual.

That’s when you feel it, her long pointer finger teasing your entrance, waiting for you to do exactly what Nayeon knew you would. Thrusting your hips down onto her finger and grinding onto it, doing the work for her while she quickened the pace of her circular movements on your clit.

The vibration of her chuckling with her mouth still attached to you was excruciating. Giggling at your neediness only made the desperation worse, vibrating and stimulating the very sensitive bud causing the pot to boil over, burning the coil that threatened to snap at any moment.

“Baby…oh fuck, I’m gonna fucking cum” pulling her head closer to you and grinding harder down on her finger.

Nayeon smiles, curling her finger up one, two, three times and then rips herself away from you.

Completely dismantling everything she just built, ruining the orgasm and sending you into a spiral of desperation and anger.

“Fuck, WHY would you do THAT?!” panting out furiously as you sit up on your elbows so you can glare at the cheeky smile she’s got plastered on her face.

Rolling your eyes and slamming yourself back down on the mattress, you hear the sound of leather sliding across the wooden nightstand. Nayeon stands, stepping into the harness of the all too familiar strap-on that was very present on nights like this.

The actual strap was different than your usual one, noting that the rings were more angular, the color of the leather was slightly darker, and you couldn’t help but notice the new attachment that was fixed to the strap that would go between Nayeon’s legs.

Slipping it inside herself with ease, a whimper leaving her lips while she buckled herself in and prepared for what was to come.

Feeling yourself drip in anticipation, the pooling of slick underneath you was rapidly growing out of control as Nayeon tugged your hips closer to the edge of the bed.

You could feel the tip of the familiar toy pressing against your folds as she leaned down and softly bit your chest. Shivers of anticipation radiated through your bones as you patiently waited for her to make the initial thrust that would turn into you becoming undone underneath her.

Breathing picking up for both of you, the tension so thick between you that every touch from her felt like jolts of static electricity that had the power of lightening.

“Baby…” unable to wait anymore, you had thought about her this way all day, on top of you with that half lidded smirk.

“Please.” Cupping her face, bringing her closer to you while lifting your legs up and wrapping them around her hips.

Taking the hint, she eases her hips forward, sinking her strap into you painstakingly slow, inch by inch until she was completely bottomed out inside you.

Moaning into her mouth as you continue to passionately make out, she takes it slow with you. Sensually rocking her hips gently and letting her hands wander your body while your tongues explored each others mouths.

Hardly any words shared at all, the moment too intense, and all too intimate to even think of exchanging witty banter. Hushed moans and whines filling the minimal space between the you and her, mixed in with the pure pleasure and the eager pants from Nayeon.

Bliss drapes your body with each thrust Nayeon made, you gave a small gasp at each stroke she laid into you. Paired with her own sounds of pleasure, you were consumed by her.

“I’m gonna cum…fuck” whispered to her with intense eye contact that has her breath hitching. Her thrusts speed up, a steady crescendo building up higher and higher in both of you until finally hit the point of pure ecstasy.

Your vision blurs as your body trembles, moans escaping your throat in rapid succession. Drenched in ecstasy, you twitch and buck your hips, riding out the waves of your intense orgasm.

Nayeon glistens with a thin sheen of sweat as she maintains her rhythm. Despite your body clenching around the strap, making it challenging for her to continue, she perseveres undeterred, chasing her own pleasure while overstimulating you.

A stream of passionate words accompanies the matching sounds as you both murmur intensely to each other. Nayeon grasps your hands, pinning them above your head, her hips snapping faster and faster.

Watching her closely through your post orgasm haze, you observe her brows furrowing—a sign she's nearing her peak.

As her rhythm falters, you seize the moment. Using your legs, you swiftly roll her over, positioning yourself on top of her.

Grinding down on the strap, now building another orgasm as it rubs against all the right spots, you can feel her body tensing under you.

“Cum for me, baby. I know how much you wanting this all day.” Sultry tone sensually whispered to her as you begin to slam yourself down on her, letting the attachment do the work.

Her eyes roll back, body tensed, back arched as she releases- a mess created on the sheets. Her whimpers loud, hands grasping at you, trying to tug you closer to her and successfully doing so.

Her nails dig into your hips as she guides you up and down on her, mouths connecting, your hand crawling up to weave into her hair.

“Oh fuck…feels so fucking good” breathed against her lips, her hands snake under your thighs, stopping you from riding her.

Thrusting up into you, holding you up while you drape your body over hers, allowing yourself to untether and get lost in the moment.

“Give me one more, honey. I know you want to.” Followed by a few bites to your neck.

The want in her words were enough to send you over the edge once more. She wraps her arms around you, holding you into place while continuing to trust up into you, creating a plethora of sounds that would put any adult film to shame.

Slowly coming down, you bury your face in her neck and smile into her.

“Ugh that was so worth the wait.” huffed into her skin as she draws little pictures with her nails on your back, writing words like “I love you” and your name and her name with hearts.

“Are you writing poetry on my back?” quizzically asked with a hint of sleepiness as you sit up on her.

“I don’t need to write poetry on what already is poetry, my love.” sitting up to deeply kiss you and hug you, all while the strap is still inside you.

Standing up to go and grab another set of sheets, Nayeon takes a moment to clean the strap in the bathroom, dry it off, and put it back in the drawer.

Returning to the bed, you pull the sheets off, walking through your house to place them in the washer and flick it on before you return to the room.

Nayeon and you make the bed together, changing the pillow cases so they match the new sheets you just placed on them.

“Do you want to take a quick shower with me?” after finally placing the comforter on the bed.

Nayeon walks over to you, putting her arms around your waist and kissing you again.

“Absolutely” leading you to the bathroom so you can wash up together.

Turning to her after she turns the shower on, you smirk at her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she scoffs, pulling out some towels from the linen closet for you both to use.

“I just love you…also, I think the bed IS crooked…at least it is now…” giggling at her.

Nayeon just glares at you, you can almost see her eye twitch with rage when she finally exclaims:

“SEE, I TOLD YOU IT WAS CROOKED!”

[alicenpai]

the shadow and her living doll 🌹🌼 print for montreal otakuthon! come see me at next week from aug 11-13 ✌

you can grab it as a print here if you so wish ! WIPs & other thoughts under the cut

shadows house is such a fantastic series & i wholeheartedly recommend it... the story delves into super dark horror elements but doesn't present itself as a story with no hope. hope must be found and then tenaciously gripped with all one's heart, much like pandora's box. it tickles the victorian gothic part of my brain forever imprinted on me since i was 14 haha...

in the first draft i had marionette strings hanging above the characters (kinda reminds me of Erased.. since I just finished rewatching that ahaha...) & shadow puppet hands on the sides, almost as if gripping each character. i decided against it in the end, to let the characters shine in the spotlight (literally).

i also wanted a more active or lively pose, but kept in line with the stiff victorian portrait style, caused by long camera exposure times. i'm not sure if that worked out better bc i'm unsure if this drawing is interesting to people wahahaha.

initially i also wanted more of a dollhouse theme, but each draft got more and more muddy, so i decided to save it for another day (i'm around ch 90 in the manga, so probably a good call to save a more complex idea until i'm all caught up)

^ quick 5 min style test i posted recently! in that post i stated that i wanted to streamline and simplify my art style more, especially after the recent bunch of illustrations i did in the past winter that took way too long to complete, at the sake of my health.

im continually looking for areas to simplify more in my art, but one of the areas i will NOT skimp on is depicting fabric!!!!!

what also helped was working on my sense of structure in my spare time, so that i could be better at depicting form without relying so much on shading to show 3d forms. i love colouring, but i need to be working smarter, not harder from now on. using 100000 shades and highlights is just not feasible anymore wahaha.

in this drawing i loosened up with the bg and kept it rough, inspired by the wonderful xeroxed bgs of 101 dalmatians, and only implied details, rather than actually rendering all of them.

the tldr is that i draw too slowly i just would like to be able to make more drawings more often!!

[opiopal]

(I found this old draft from like, early December! I remember it was a practice at writing dialogue and a bit of angst? I just remember sitting in an art class and typing it out lol, But I decided to clean it up a bit and post! Since I haven’t been posting often and I have about 60 drafts lined up, lowkey I can’t tell if it’s any good or not, since idk if my skills have grown since my wattpad days. I would’ve fully rewritten it, but I knew it would’ve been a pain so I just spell checked and replaced a few sentences.)

•

•

(First scene takes place before lesson 16, second scene is during lesson 16. Also this is just a thing I thought of a while ago)

•CW: description of blood and dead body at the end.•

Mc has been staring at him for a while, hugging onto one of their pillows tightly, completely lost in thought. Mammon had brought them an extra cup of noddles, they had both just gotten back from RAD a while ago so they were reasonably hungry, and he apparently made two “by mistake” and just didn’t wanna waste it.(Mc thought it was a dumb excuse, but didn’t want to mention it and just accepted the food.) Though Mc had finished theirs a while ago, mammon was taking his sweet time, awkwardly staring down at the floor and occasionally flicking his eyes over at the human sitting no less then four feet away from him. It doesn’t cross their mind that he may be acting so awkward due to the fact that they have just been staring at him for the last ten minutes, but how could they really tell? Ever since they had made a pact with him, he’d been so awkward that it made levi look like an extrovert. As the seconds go by he wonders if he should question them, maybe there’s something wrong with them?? Why else would they be staring?? Or maybe there’s something on his face? Is his hair a mess? Is his shirt wrinkled? Why in the three realms won’t they just look away???

“do you like me?”

as they finally break the silence mammon chokes a bit, he coughs as his cheeks almost immediately get red,

“H-wh- I- What?!” “do you like me?” They asked it so casually, as if they were asking him if it were going to rain soon.

“O-of course I don’t!”

“then why do you hang around me?”

“because I HAVE to!”

“even at home?”

“yes!”

“how come?” They set their pillow to the side as they stare at him, he stammers

“I- well- because.. it’s… dangerous for you to be alone!”

Mc tilts their head slightly and furrows their brows, ”do you think your brothers would be a danger to me? Am I not safe here?”

“NO! I mean- uhm- obviously you’re safe here, I just.. you know I need to watch you!”

“but if I’m safe.. then why would you need to?”

“well-“ he pauses, his face somehow gets redder,

Mc smiles and scoots closer to him,

“you wanna know what I think?”

he side eyes them as they slowly start to smile,

“I think we’re friends,”

“PFFTT WHAAAT! NO! No. No we aren’t.”

“I think we are!”

“No” ”yes,” ”no-“ ”yes!” ”no!”

“Then I’ll ask again, How come you hang out with me?”

“I-“ as he pauses again to try and think of an excuse that wouldn’t cause anxiety or worry, he doesn’t want them to believe his brothers would hurt them- but he doesn’t want them to know the painfully obvious truth!!!! mc grins and wraps their arms around one of his,

“we’re frriendss~” they say in a sing songy voice, pressing their cheek against his shoulder. at this point he was so flushed you’d assume someone had came in and slathered red paint all other his face.

a bit of frustration creeps in as he yanks his arm from their grasp, and pulls them in for a tight hug as he avoids eye contact with them. If he can’t deny it, he might as well own it.. right??

“Well. I guess you WOULD want to be friends with the great mammon! It’s only natural!!”

a little surprised, mc giggles and wraps their arms around his torso in return,

“oh yeah, that’s totally it.”

“A- hey! Don’t be gettin all sarcastic!”

They turn their head to look up at him, at this point nearly laying in his lap. They stop giggling for a moment to smile at his face red face, they didn’t really mean to tease him, but he didn’t seem to be taking it to harshly. though still they apologize,

“I’m sorry, you’re right. Though you are a pretty good friend.”

“… really?”

his response surprises the both of them for a second, honestly he didn’t mean to say it, that was just an inside thought that managed to sneak out. He adjusts his arm to support the back of their head as he stares down at them.

“yeah, of course, I think you’re amazing mammon… and you’re doing a fantastic job… keeping me safe, that is.”

• •

That moment almost immediately enters his mind as he stares down at them, pulling their body closer into his chest as their blood slowly begins to soak his arms and lap.

he wasn’t doing a fantastic job. He didn’t. He hasn’t. Why would he let this happen? HOW could he let this happen? He’s holding his human, his mc, as his youngest brother laughs.

He can’t look away, his mind re-memorizing their face, their eyes looked straight ahead with no sign of life, unblinking. He cups their face, shaking them gently, wanting them to do something, anything. To laugh at him being so worried, to make a comment about all the commotion, to mumble something about Lucifer, to blink, to BREATHE, To do ANYTHING. he could feel their warmth fading away, they were so cold. They didn’t deserve to be cold.

His brain was so clouded that he hardly took notice of the door being opened and his brothers arguing coming to a stop, his head finally jerking up when someone spoke their name.

[simpingforstardew]

muse

pairing: sdv elliot x reader

synopsis: elliot is struggling with severe writers block; if only he had a muse...

note: a while ago i talked about having a derivative idea for an elliot x reader fic; here is that fic !! the premise is completely unoriginal, but i'll leave the references at the end of the fic to avoid spoilers hehe

warnings: i don't even know for this one gang, wholesome w/ an ending that could be read as spooky? let's call it a doomed romance !! tw/ relationships that are doomed by the narrative !!

word count: 1.5k

Adronitis

A heart so damaged; tender; sore—

You ever-blooming sycamore,

Through hunger pangs; my deliriousness,

I mourn my mortal catoptric tristesse.

With starving dreams, your warmth I crave—

I worship you, I must embrave,

Indulge me, lay your fear ahind.

Our sanctuary; your piece of mind.

My amorous famine demands more […more what?],

So I feast on your smile […] petrichor.

i am just writing this right niw so it

looks lije i am being pro ductive oh Yoba

andnow leahs comin g over this

is alll shit im jist going to star t overrr

“How’s the writing going, El’?” Leah peers down at Elliot with a smile, wiping the sweat from her brow. “We’ve been at it for a while without a break, you know?”

“Oh, Leah! It’s going splendidly, and yes, it seems we have…” Elliot coughs, avoiding eye contact while tearing the paper from his typewriter. “Why don’t we call it for today then?”

“Without showing me what you’ve done? C’mon,” she whines, “What do you have?”

Elliot and Leah had decided, sometime early last Spring, to meet in Cindersnap forest every Wednesday to work on their current projects. ‘Parallel play for artists,’ Penny once called it when walking Jas back to Marnie’s ranch. For Leah, this weekly rendezvous has (so far) allowed her to complete 2 clay sculptures, 3 wood sculptures, 23 drawings, and 8 paintings; for Elliot, the last few months has allowed him to create…

“Nothing,” Elliot sighs, packing his typewriter’s case with a frown. “I have, somehow, written nothing! I mean, I wanted to craft a Petrarchan sonnet, inspired by Poe’s romantic, yet macabre sensibilities. I ended up with trash I couldn’t even make hendecasyllabic. It’s embarrassingly Shakespearian and—”

“Whoa, whoa, buddy, that’s okay. That’s fine. I’m not sure what any of that means, but…” Leah scrunches her freckled nose, hoping to find the right words to calm Elliot down, “It seems like you’re expecting perfection from a first draft. Maybe we should call it for today, and you could revisit your poem tomorrow?”

“Yes, you are right,” the authors scowl softens; after a moment of meditation—feeling the summer breeze tangle in his hair—he looks towards Leah with a smile. “I will see you next week, Miss Faraday.”

Elliot didn’t return to his typewriter until later that week, deciding instead to bask in the sun’s warmth on the beach. The author sits on the pier with a contented sigh, the rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore providing a soothing backdrop to his afternoon reverie.

Even still, despite the Elysium that he has found himself in, Elliot cannot shake his frustrations; his linguistic discouragement plagued his every thought.

“Ahoy there, my boy! Perfect weather for fishing don’t ya reckon?” Willy smiles, closing the front door to the Fish Shop behind him. Elliot

“Ah, hello Mr. Tucker,” Elliot waves as the fisherman sits beside him, attaching a small blue tackle onto an impressively shiny rod, “I suppose it is, although I fear I don’t have my fishing gear with me today.”

“What’d I tell you about calling me that? No need to be so formal, son,” Willy chuckles, casting a line into the vast depths of the saltwater, “Say, aren’t ya usually off in town around this time? Feel like I never see you this early on a Wednesday.”

Elliot still had to adjust to the predictive routine of a small town, and the horrifying consequences of straying from said routine: becoming the topic of mid-afternoon gossip.

“Yes, well, I um—,” Elliot sighs, looking into the deep blue below as if the ocean concealed the antidote to writers block, “I have been, writing with Leah every Wednesday and… actually can I ask for some advice?”

“O’ Course ya can, my boy.” Willy nods.

“I have been… struggling lately,” The taller man slumps as he runs a hand through his auburn hair, his voice heavy with uncertainty, “I feel as if I have lost my spark, my… capacité artistique. I cannot, for the life of me, write anything of quality! I just… I feel broken, Mr. William.”

Willy takes a moment to think, slowly breathing in the salty air, “Hmm, I see your problem, lad— but it’s important to know yer not broken. Aye, nothin’ about ya is broken.”

A fish tugs at Willy’s fishing line: desperately; hopelessly.

“It’s like if yer pal Willy couldn’t fish anymore… I’d sooner swallow a sea urchin than lose my ability to do what I love,” Willy pulls the rod towards him, putting up a fight with whatever poor creature is on the other end of the line, “but sometimes it’s tricky doing what ya love 24/7, son! You got to remind yerself to take breaks, and…”

The creature is hurled out of the ocean, flapping helplessly as the fisherman releases it from his tackle. Willy holds the freshly-caught octopus up to Elliot.

“Remind yerself why ya love it!” Willy chuckles, before mumbling to himself about throwing his newest catch in a tank lest he ‘gets inked’.

As Elliot sits in contemplative silence, the ocean offering solace: the rushing winds, the distant cry of seagulls, even the smell of salty air. Over the last year and a half, he has grown to love it all.

As he rises to his feet, Elliot considers his friends’ advice. He certainly didn’t want to remain in this slump forever; so he needs to find a reminder of why he loves writing; a source of reinvigorating inspiration.

He needs to find a muse.

A muse in a village with a population of 27.

‘Well,’ Elliot thinks, slamming his cabin’s door shut behind him as he slides onto his desk chair. He sets up his Olympia SM 9 for the second time today. ‘If I can’t find my muse in life, I will simply create my muse in art.’

For a moment, the black page loaded into the typewriter stares back at Elliot, mockingly. Then, as suddenly as the crash of thunder that bellows from above, the author began to write.

Elliot bursts into the Fish Shop, his manuscript clutched tightly in hand, a triumphant gleam in his eye. “Willy, my friend, you’re incredible!” he cheered, his excitement palpable. “I truly could not have done this without your support.”

Willy grins, offering a sincere thumbs-up. “Glad to hear it, lad! So what was your reminder, eh? What got you back on track?”

Elliot coughs, a flush creeping up his freckled cheeks. “Well, you see… I made it up.”

Willy arches an eyebrow, bemused,“Ya made up yer reminder for why you love writing? Now, son…”

“No, no,” Elliot hastens to explain, “My love for writing is genuine. But my muse, my darling muse, is not.”

“I’m not following, my boy.”

“I have spent all night crafting the narrative of a completely fabricated person, it’s all here,” Elliot elaborates, “They’re genuinely kind, talented and hard-working, despite never being appreciated. They have the most charming mole on their neck, and they’re delightfully witty! After their grandfather passed away, they—”

“Son,” Willy interrupted gently, his tone tinged with amusement, “Yer a peculiar one, ya know that? How is this going to help with yer writing?”

“It does sound ridiculous, but dedicating my sonnets to this idealised character… thinking of them as I work on my novel… It has been phenomenally motivating!” Elliot laughs, re-reading through the pages before stopping in his tracks, “Oh, I do apologise old friend, I barged into your shop like a man possessed.”

It had been months since Elliot had felt such a fervent desire to write; his unbridled excitement was contagious; a smirk spreads across Willy’s face, crinkling the corners of his dark green eyes.

“If it were anyone else instead of you, I’d be furious, lad,” Willy chuckles, reaching into his mini fridge, “‘Ere, I whipped up too many crab cakes last night, and I know they’re yer favourite— consider it a gift.”

As Elliot arrives back at his cabin, writing snacks in tow, the muffled playing of his piano greets him. He chuckles softly, before preparing to shoo Harvey out of his home so he could resume his day of writing.

“Sincerest apologies, I—,”

“Oh! Honey, you’re back so soon.” Turning away from the piano, your eyes catch Elliot’s with a familiar warmth. You admire the way your boyfriend’s hair always forms delicate waves when exposed to the sea spray.

The author was struck speechless, his heart pounding as he stared at you with more focus than you have ever been subject to.

It couldn’t be real. And yet there you are. You. The muse Elliot had crafted— who's entire life was written mere hours prior on the pages that were now strewn about the floor— was standing before him in flesh and blood.

Every flawless detail exactly as he had imagined.

“Elliot, darling, are you okay?” Your smile becomes wry; nervous as to why your lover was acting so peculiar, his pale skin was now a ghastly white. “Would you like me to pour some wine? We can—”

Before your suggestion was made, Elliot was gone; the door slamming shut behind him.

note #2: okay if you didn't catch it, my inspiration was the 1960 episode of the Twilight Zone: 'A World of His Own', and (more relevantly) the 2012 psychological horror romcom Ruby Sparks !! if you check out either that episode or movie, pleasepleaseplease lmk what you think <33

[jeonginslefthand]

Harbor Lights ✨

Pairing: Hyunjin x female Y/N (Established relationship (BF x GF), idol!Hyunjin x photographer!Reader)  Genre: Straight fluff, wholesome romantic date fluff  Word count: 1.7k+ Plot summary: Hyunjin decides to take you on an early morning walk along the harbor bridge before he has to perform his idol duties (and possibly for a quick photo shoot with his fav photographer ;)) Warnings: None. Maybe some cheesy lines here and there but what’s romance without some cheesiness to it?  A/N: So this was a random idea that I completely wrote up at 3am (no seriously it was 3am when I wrote this—). Although this was a 3am idea, this is [mostly] proofread and has been through many changes and drafts. I’m still a little new to writing shorter fanfics like this so constructive criticism is welcomed! But other than that hope you all enjoy it and let me know what you all think.

Stray kids masterlist

~~~

“[Y/N] wake up!!” 

You sleepily turn over in your sheets as your boyfriend shakes you awake. Usually, he’s in a rush to get to a dance practice or a recording session. He only has time to give you a small kiss on your cheek thinking you’re still asleep (you’re not though. All of his moving around naturally wakes you up). But this morning he’s up at who knows what hour trying to get you up for reasons you have yet to find out. 

“Hyunjin…” you sleepily say as you turn to check the time. 5:30 AM. Way earlier than when he usually wakes up. “Do you need me for something? Why’re you up so early?” 

“Come on, it's not that early.” Hyunjin pouts. “Get up and get dressed! We’re going somewhere special.” 

You sit up in bed looking at Hyunjin confused, raising your eyebrow. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see!!” Hyunjin teases. “Oh, and bring your camera with you.” 

Hyunjin leaves before you can question him further. He rarely asks you to bring your camera. That’s only reserved for special occasions like sightseeing on world tours and special dates. Maybe he is taking you to a special place for a breakfast date? It would be a miracle if he found a place that opened before 6. Maybe he wants to have a mini photoshoot? Hyunjin’s always saying you take photos like a professional (and always makes sure to get his good side). 

With all these thoughts running through your head, you get up from your bed and start getting dressed. You don’t put on anything too flashy, grabbing a hoodie and some oversized jorts. You top off the outfit with a pair of worn out Converse and a beanie. As you pick up your camera, Hyunjin comes back into your room with an even bigger smile on his face.

“Ready to go [Y/N]?” He asks.

“Yeah. You still haven’t said where we’re going.” You respond.

“We’re going on a little walk. I just want to spend time with my girl. It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

He has a point. With the next comeback around the corner along with prepping for the tour, it’s like he’s never home. You knew it wouldn’t be easy being with an idol, but deep in your mind, you wished you could spend more time with him during these comebacks. Although you would prefer not to be up so early, if it meant spending more time with your boyfriend then it’s all worth it. 

The two of you leave your cozy apartment and you start following Hyunjin as he walks. Wherever you’re walking must not be far if he didn’t immediately hop in the car (although technically this already counts as starting the walk). The two of you get a little further and see a bridge and a harbor appear. Hyunjin stops and grabs your hand as he turns to you. 

“We’re going to walk on the harbor bridge! I hear the view is breathtaking.” Hyunjin explains. 

“I feel I’ve seen this bridge before…” you start to look at your surroundings and see you probably passed this area a few times. 

Hyunjin doesn’t respond and he pulls you toward the bridge. You take note of your surroundings as the two of you walk on the bridge. There barely is anyone on the bridge. You see one or two people in workout clothes taking a run in the opposite direction. The two of you are practically alone and you start to understand why Hyunjin chose this place. The sound of the water flowing below you coupled with the chirps of the morning birds and the slow rise of the sun enhances the peaceful atmosphere. The warm breeze flowing along your neck gives you a feeling of comfort. You could take in the atmosphere for hours, wishing that time would stop so you could take in this moment with just your boyfriend.

You both find a stopping point in the middle of the bridge and you take a step forward taking in the view. Hyunjin was right, it was absolutely gorgeous. The sun perfectly hits the water to give it a subtle glimmer. There are two lookout goggles and a bench on the opposite side of the goggles. You and Hyunjin go up to the goggles and look through them to get a better view of the water surrounding you. As you back away from the goggles, you study the rest of your surroundings and think to yourself this looks like a scene straight from a painting. Just looking at what’s in front of you gives you the inspiration you need to snap some quick photos. 

You pull your camera out and start to take some pictures of the water. Hyunjin slowly sneaks up behind you and begins to cuddle you from behind. 

“Knew you wouldn’t resist the chance to take some photos!” Hyunjin teases.

“Shut up!” You respond. “I will admit, this is peaceful. I miss spending quality time with you like this.” 

Hyunjin doesn’t respond and embraces you some more, taking in the feeling of your presence. He didn’t need to respond. You knew he felt the same. The two of you sit in silence for a moment as your mind wanders off.

You turn to Hyunjin appreciating his beauty in this moment. The sun is doing wonders for him… you think to yourself. The rays of the sun hitting Hyunjin’s skin at the right angles make him glow brighter than he usually does. You’re hit with a wave of inspiration thinking of how you can capture this moment on your small camera. 

“Can you pose right here for a moment?” You ask pointing at a spot on the bridge in between the lookout goggles. Hyunjin smiles and quickly walks over to the spot with his back against the bridge getting in a casual pose. You hold your camera up adjusting yourself trying to find the right angle.

“You look so beautiful when you're taking photos. I don’t understand why this is just a hobby.” Hyunjin says. 

“And I don’t understand why you just paint as a hobby.” You respond still trying to get the perfect angle. “Your paintings are beautiful. Every time I see one I’m transported to another world. So what made you choose the idol life?” 

Hyunjin thinks for a moment before responding. “Because I love the stage. I love being up there performing, dancing my heart out. It’s something I don’t think I’ll fall out of love with. If I turn painting into a job, I’m afraid I won’t love it as much anymore. Nothing I make will feel like… me.” 

“And that’s how I feel about photography. Well, almost. Maybe as the years go on, I’ll feel differently and turn this into my side hustle. But for now, I want to enjoy this without worrying about how much money I can make out of it.”

You adjust some settings on your camera as you position it towards Hyunjin again. “Besides… isn’t it kinda hot knowing I only take pictures for you?” 

“Okay, there’s no denying that.” Hyunjin laughs. “But one day, promise that you’ll consider selling your beautiful pieces. They don’t deserve to be kept locked away in your computer.” 

“Only if you promise to do the same with your paintings.” 

“Hmm… maybe…” Hyunjin teases.

“Very funny. Shut up and hold still for a moment.” 

You finally get the angle you want and snap a few shots of Hyunjin. He changes up the pose a couple of times and you adjust accordingly. The rays of the sun continue to enhance his beauty as it rises. It’s like he’s naturally photogenic with his energy complimenting the entire scene. You finish taking the photos and show them to Hyunjin. He smiles appreciating the way he looks through your lens. 

“Okay, it’s your turn now!” Hyunjin smiles. “Go and pose on the bridge!” 

You’re hesitant at first, but you slowly hand Hyunjin your camera as you go to the same spot he was in. You’re not used to being in front of a camera, but you do your best to get in a comfortable pose. Noticing your struggle, Hyunjin walks up to you and helps you with the pose. 

“Just relax. Pretend there isn’t a camera. It’s just you and the harbor atmosphere.” Hyunjin softly says to help you relax. 

Hyunjin’s soft voice helps you relax, comforts you even. You look off in the distance zoning out for a moment until you hear a small CLICK!

“Perfect! Keep posing naturally like that. Like your beautiful authentic self. You look your best when you’re not worrying about what’s around you.” Hyunjin reassures you, continuing to make you blush with his soft voice. 

He takes a couple more photos and you go back to get your camera from him. You look through the photos, admiring the way your boyfriend captured your presence. It’s amazing how you’re able to see yourself in a different light (both figuratively and literally). 

“What do you think? I’m not as great as the professional [Y/N], but I think these do your beauty justice.” 

“They’re amazing Jinnie!” You respond. “A few retouches in Lightroom and maybe these will look almost as good as my photos,” you say teasingly.

Hyunjin laughs before responding. “How about we continue our walk darling? The rest of the bridge leads to the next city. It’s long but if you’re up for it I think it’ll be worth it.” 

“I think that sounds perfect!” You respond with a smile. 

The two of you finish your walk along the bridge. It took about twenty minutes to get to the end of the bridge to the next city and you take a photo with Hyunjin celebrating the moment. You notice a coffee house near you and politely drag Hyunjin for a quick coffee date and a bite to eat after all the walking. The two of you chat it up enjoying each other’s company, completely losing track of time taking in the moment. As Hyunjin is telling his stories from idol practice yesterday, he suddenly remembers he had his phone on silent and he pulls it out. He opens it to multiple missed calls from Chan and a few text messages from him. Hyunjin quickly gets up and you quickly follow him as he opens his phone to one message in particular:

BangChan: Hey! Are you coming to practice or what? 🤨

[jenn2sec]

English vers.

Based On My Dreams Series (MAIN LINE):

❝ Healing Trip ❞

start - thursday20022025

couple - bigbang(you decide who) x fem!reader

chapters summary - after your strong resistance against the abuse from your boyfriend's (now ex) family, you were suspended from school for a year, so what will you do during that forced break? of course, take a direct flight to korea to heal! lets see how lucky you will be with bigbang-boys!

note - chaotic, bad words, side characters, this post won't feature bigbang, but read on and make your choice at the end!, funny, quantum multiverse, alcohol

caption section - after reviewing and organizing more ideas for the plot, i decided to officially develop the Based On My Dreams Series into a long-form fanfic (when i say long, i mean it will have a more structured storyline). y/n is in the late twenties and about to enter their thirties, a third-year student majoring in film scriptwriting.

We’re always open to feedback and ideas to make the story better!

[ Before I could make sense of everything, my feet were already standing on his grave. ]

After reviewing the entire script draft for the short film, you sent it to senior H/n. Just thinking about it made you frustrated—why did you have to do his work for him? This was supposed to be his graduation project! Your head felt as hot as a furnace, yet you still had to sit in the library after your morning classes, rushing to finish his “problem.”

“That jerk…” you mumbled, slamming your laptop shut before quickly stacking up your books into a neat pile and dragging yourself out of the library.

Time flew by, and you were already close to completing your second semester of your third year in university. Just one more semester and another year, and you’d finally have that bachelor’s degree in your hands. Lost in your feverish state, you found yourself daydreaming about internships—completely unaware that the so-called "talented" senior you had just cursed was now striding towards you with an air of arrogance.

“Hey, y/n! Come here for a sec.” He waved a hand at you like an impatient boss calling over an employee just to scold them. Just great. You had only insulted him in your head a moment ago, and now he had appeared like a summoned ghost. With a deep sigh, you bit your lip and walked over.

"I really appreciate your help, but you should really reconsider $#%&—" He kept rambling, his words buzzing in your ears like an annoying fly. What was this? Was he actually complaining about a script that he got for free?

You were too stunned to speak. The only reason you put up with this lunatic was because he was your boyfriend’s older brother and the son of the head professor of your department.

Let’s see… He was the son of the department head but was still drowning in over ten failed courses, barely hanging onto his chance to graduate. And ever since you had visited your boyfriend’s house and discovered that both of you were in the same screenwriting major, more than half of his overdue assignments had magically ended up in your lap. Call you stupid if you guys want—at first, you thought dating someone from the same school would be nice. His mother was a well-respected professor, and surely his older brother must be talented too, right? Wrong. And now, your so-called “future brother-in-law” was acting like he was the professor and you were the clueless student, lecturing you in the middle of campus with no regard for your dignity.

"I am sorry, but I’m really exhausted. Can’t you see the fever patch on my foreh—" You weakly protested, carefully choosing your words to avoid bruising his ego, but H/n immediately cut you off, clicking his tongue and placing his hands on his hips.

"Y/n, if you’re going to do something, do it properly. You can’t use being sick as an excuse to hand in a script full of plot holes!"

You froze. Your face went blank, as if someone had just smacked you over the head with a hammer. You could only stare at this shameless man in disbelief.

"Hey, are y—" Just as you were about to snap back, your younger boyfriend suddenly appeared from afar, grinning as he approached. Without hesitation, he hugged you from behind and kissed your cheek.

"What are you two doing out here?"

Seeing your boyfriend felt like spotting a lifeline in the middle of an ocean. You turned around, ready to whine about your suffering, but before you could even speak, the brat jumped back in horror, shoving you away a few steps.

"Wait, you’re sick?! Hey, hey, don’t get me infected! I have an internship next week!" He hurriedly pulled a mask out of his pocket and put it on, while his brother scolded him for overreacting.

And then, just like that, he kept going. Your dear senior resumed his endless criticism of your script, delivering yet another long-winded lecture about character development and scene construction.

A childish boyfriend. A useless, arrogant brother-in-law. And you—sick to the point of collapse, with a very solid pile of books in your hands.

Yes. With a rage-induced fever clouding your mind like a drunken haze, you didn’t hesitate. You hurled the entire stack of books at that senior’s face, then grabbed the thickest one and jabbed it straight at your stupid boyfriend, who is gaping.

"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY SIGHT, YOU BASTARDS!!! ALL OF YOU, OUT! RIGHT NOW! F* OFF YOU MOTHER F******!!!!!!!!"

"That damn bastards….my gosh how can I know I’d break the library window! It’s all their fault! Huhuhu—" You wailed into your phone, sobbing so hard that your eyes were practically swelling shut.

On the other end of the call, your online best friend sighed. "So�� what about your ‘future mother-in-law’?"

The mere mention of that woman made you cry even louder. "That witch! She only acted nice because she saw me as her eldest son’s academic lifeline! But the moment I broke their noses today, she went insane and demanded that the school expel me! Huhuhu—!"

Your friend let out a long, tired sigh. "So let me get this straight… You got suspended for a whole year just for assault and property damage? That’s kind of harsh. I’d say one semester at most." You sniffled. "No, no. Before that, I went to the academic office and reported that entire damn family—especially that bastard H/n—for forcing me to do his coursework."

"WHAT?!" Your friend shrieked in shock before bursting into laughter. Meanwhile, you grinned victoriously.

"Serves those assholes right."

You don't mind graduating a year late, you're a pretty good student after all—it's basically a gap year. But that asshole? His record's been erased. And his mom? Suspended for a whole semester. Ha!

"Why do you keep listening to those gay dudes all the time?"

A slipper flew straight toward the speaker—unfortunately, it missed. You've heard this comment enough times to no longer take it to heart, but you still had to put up some kind of resistance. Your older brother kicked your slipper further away—specifically, out onto the porch—before lazily walking over to the fridge to find something to snack on.

Meanwhile, you sat idly on the sofa, listening to your favorite music: K-pop.

It had been a long time since you last had the chance to relax like this. Ever since you got involved with that damn family, even your holidays were spent helping H/n.

So now, being able to unwind felt a bit unfamiliar. You started feeling like you had rested too much—your hands and feet were itching to do something.

"If you're so free, why don't you go out or get a job? Doesn't staying home bore you?" your brother asked, plopping down on the couch with a bag of snacks. He grabbed the remote and switched the TV to some streamer’s YouTube channel.

"HEY!" You grabbed your other slipper and threw it straight at his face—this time, it hit. After a brief scuffle, both of you lazily slumped back onto the couch.

"Getting a part-time job doesn’t sound too bad—"

Suddenly, your phone rang. It was your online best friend calling.

And with just one phone call, your plan to get a job turned into a healing trip abroad.

The room you rented was in an apartment complex located deep within a neighborhood already slated for redevelopment. Despite this, quite a few people still lived here. Most people—including your online best friend—found the place too cramped and bustling, but you actually liked it. Having lived with your parents and brother your whole life, you never had the chance to "coexist" with strangers like this. So even though you felt a bit uneasy, you valued this experience—it was something worth having!

Your online best friend picked you up from the airport and helped you find a short-term rental. (You had decided to stay for an extended period, given that you had an entire year of free time.) After finishing the move-in process, she immediately switched into tour guide mode and took you on an adventure through Seoul.

This was only the second time you two had met in real life—the first being when she visited your country for a trip. Now, it was your turn to visit hers. Twice was more than enough to erase any awkwardness. The two of you went all out, exploring every corner, from delicious street food to fun entertainment spots.

“Lucky for you, you know enough Korean to communicate, right?” she asked, biting into a strawberry tanghulu—the popular sugar-coated fruit snack often seen in TikTok dance videos. You nodded slightly, using your own candy stick to poke at the hardened sugar stuck on your molars before replying.

“Just a little. I’m definitely not fluent enough to compete with the locals.” You joked, recalling how, during your first meeting, she had been too flustered to even speak English properly.

Both of you had made an effort to learn each other’s native languages, but for the most part, you still communicated in English for convenience, occasionally throwing in phrases from the second language. So naturally, she reacted quickly to your teasing:

"야! 놀리지 마!! (Ya! Don’t tease me!!)”

She laughed awkwardly at her own outburst, making both of you burst into laughter. Your attention was then quickly stolen by a brightly lit bar nearby.

“Hey, I didn’t know Aven Star had a branch in Korea,” you remarked.

“Of course they do! They even invite artists over all the time. Wanna go in? Who knows, maybe you’ll run into one of your ‘husbands,’” she teased, nudging your shoulder.

You were about to agree instantly, but one glance at your outfit made you hesitate. “I can’t. I look like a complete mess right now.”

“Excuse me?! Stop acting like a pick-me girl! You look amazing, so get in there and have fun!”

Well, if that damn family knew you were out here vacationing and enjoying yourself, they’d be fuming. Just the thought of it made you relax a little more and confidently step inside.

The moment you entered, your ears were greeted by remixes of old-but-gold US-UK songs, refreshed with an upbeat twist that made them even catchier. The dim, flickering lights were adjusted just right—not harsh on the eyes—but the place was packed. That was typical for this bar. You never went bar-hopping much during your school days, but if you did, Aven Star was always your go-to. It was surreal that your favorite club had somehow followed you across the world, making your healing trip feel even more complete.

You quickly let yourself soak in the atmosphere while waiting for your best friend, who was busy flirting with the bartender (and ordering more drinks for both of you). The tension in your body gradually melted away, your shoulders feeling lighter by the second. It was hard to believe this trip was already working wonders—on just the first day.

Then, out of nowhere, a cold liquid spilled down the back of your neck, soaking your entire back. A sharp shiver ran up your spine, triggering an instant wave of shock and discomfort that shot straight to your brain, making you yelp. Luckily, the bar was noisy enough to drown out your outburst.

Spinning around, you searched for the culprit—and found yourself facing a guy dressed in a breezy, casual outfit. His face was undeniably Korean, but he wasn’t bad-looking at all. In fact, when combined with his overall aura, he looked…pretty cool!

His expression, however, was hilarious. Though the dim lighting made it hard to see clearly, his wide eyes, hand-over-mouth reaction, and panicked mumbling made it obvious he was apologizing and checking if you were okay.

You were in too good of a mood to get mad. You were about to say something, but then you spotted your best friend scanning the crowd for you. With no time to linger, you flashed the guy a quick grin, leaned in slightly, and said a few words before slipping through the dancing crowd to rejoin your friend.

"________"

| If You Choose to Say Something Playful.

| If You Choose to Say Something Reassuring. [comingsoon]

_____

F i x a r a w S o f t e n

thursday20022025

23:46

︾︾︾︾︾︾︾

to speed things up and because my english isn’t really that good, i decided to use a translation tool to help with the language switch. a bigbangxreader fanfic operating on the quantum multiverse theory, why not?!

every choice you make leads you to a different person, opening up distinct storylines, what do you think?!

hope you all understand and enjoy ♡

[maeum-your]

pairing: park jongseong x fem!reader

synopsis: life with all its unexpected twists and turns decides it hates you big time. your best friend ends up taking you on a trip to italy to help you escape the cruelties of your existence for at least a couple of days.

when a handsome stranger saves you from some intimate time with the airport floor and you later happen to bump into him again at your hotel, you decide to spend more time together. is it wise to open up your heart to him?

starring: enhypen jay & sunghoon, ningning (aespa), soobin (txt)

genre: one-shot, fluff, angst, slightly humorous (to some) (perhaps)

warnings: no smut but there definitely is talk about the omegaverse (idk how that happened either), harmless making out, quite a bit of cursing, dysfunctional families, my restrained need to talk about my hero academia so mc mentions todoroki quite a bit lmaoo my bad

word count: 14.1k

a/n: happy comeback day 🎉🎉🎉

my first fic in two years woooo! i started writing this two summers ago but never ended up getting past the first draft. it took a lot of editing and revising to get it to where it is now and i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻

the location where this is taking place holds a very special place in my heart 💞

“and above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places.” - roald dahl

you had your palms pressed against the cool glass, mouth hanging wide open in wonder as you gazed through the window. wings broke through the cotton candy field of clouds, your final destination becoming visible at long last.

stiff limbs from flying for so long were quickly forgotten as you took in the scenery from above. a breathtaking tapestry of vineyards and olive groves stretched across the landscape, the late afternoon sun illuminating the waters of the serpentine river slithering through the city below.

everything just looked so very different from what you were used to. the skyscrapers and gray monotony of your own life disappeared to the far back of your mind.

“i knew you’d love it, but you literally have heart eyes right now. you better close your mouth before you start catching flies.“

the redhead next to you nudged you in the ribs, giggling at the wonderstruck expression on your face. “mission accomplished. just what i was hoping for.“

you rolled your eyes at ningning’s teasing smirk but couldn‘t stop your mouth from stretching into a big smile, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“oh, shut it, you.“

soon, you‘d made your way through security and headed to pick up your luggage. you hadn‘t really brought much—a single suitcase sufficed for the short stay ningning had planned. yet, you already found yourself wishing for more time in this special little corner of the world.

completely exhausted after a full day of flying and five layovers, yet brimming with anticipation, you stood waiting at the baggage carousel. it seemed to take forever, though you didn‘t mind, not much, whistling a jolly tune while tapping your feet, watching bags and suitcases of all sizes, shapes and colors get picked up by people just as varied as their belongings.

as you finally laid eyes on your rosé gold suitcase and moved to retrieve it, a collision sent you staggering. if not for a stranger with superhuman reflexes who had reached out and pulled you back by the waist after someone’s shoulder had slammed into yours with unexpected force, you might have ended up greeting the grimy verona airport floor with your face.

a silver-haired young man at a distance waved apologetically. “my bad!“ he yelled and then, addressing the mysterious stranger who still had his arm wrapped snugly around your waist, “come on, dude. our cab‘s waitin‘.“

your savior was donning a pair of gray joggers and a zip hoodie, the hood drawn up, sunglasses hiding his eyes as he bent his head to look at you. concern lined the features that weren‘t being concealed, lending him a mysterious air amidst the casual attire.

“is your shoulder okay? sorry about my friend; we‘re in a little bit of a rush and he’s a little… well, let’s just call him a high energy individual.“ with a quick bow, he darted off after the silver-haired man, leaving before you could utter a word in response. the kind stranger had gone before you could get a proper look at his face.

lucky for you, ningning had maintained her composure amidst the chaos and had swiftly retrieved both your suitcases from the carousel in the meantime. it was exactly what you expected from the hyper-focused and detail-oriented woman. you wouldn‘t be surprised if she could read an academic paper and understand all its concepts without struggling even in the middle of attending a death metal concert or riding a rollercoaster. she had always been nothing short of amazing.

with her hand on her waist, the redhead sighed as she glanced after the two men responsible for the commotion.

“that was one hell of a main character moment, huh?“

you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks, still feeling the lingering touch of the stranger and the faint scent of his cologne in the air.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

after picking up the keys for the rental car you had pre-booked through the company's website, you set off from verona airport. inside the shark blue volkswagen golf, the windows remained down to combat the stifling, humid air. normally, you would have minded—the hair sticking to your forehead and the beads of sweat forming—but here in verona, one of italy’s most historically and culturally significant cities, it felt liberating. it felt like freedom.

the breeze that flowed through the open windows swept away all the pent-up frustrations and stresses of the past weeks, carrying them far into the distance. in its wake, it left a sense of tranquility that you weren’t sure you had ever experienced.

ningning had a white scarf draped elegantly around her head and neck, its thin fabric fluttering in the wind. She wore stylish louis vuitton sunglasses perched on her nose and sported bright red lips that shimmered in the sunlight. ningning was the embodiment of the phrase "to go in fashion," effortlessly turning heads wherever she went.

you closed your eyes and let the crisp air tickle your skin.

passing through several charming villages, you eventually arrived at lago di garda. mesmerized by the lake of shining waters, you decided to take a leisurely drive around its perimeter.

a few windsurfers skillfully glided across the water, harnessing the wind's power, while most people were beginning to depart as the sun dipped low, casting an orange glow over everything. high-pitched calls echoed as seagulls swooped and scavenged. you couldn't help but burst into laughter as you watched one bold seagull snatch a sandwich right out of a tourist's hand, prompting a comical chase that ended in a flurry of french profanities.

by the time you completed your circuit around the lake, darkness had nearly enveloped the landscape. the sun had slipped behind the mountains, cooling the air. above, the moon shone brightly, casting a silvery glow that danced across the lake's surface.

the way up the winding road of the mountain might not have taken long but it sure wasn‘t relaxing either. your knuckles turned white from gripping the sides of your seat so hard as your best friend navigated the curves and twists of the road in the near dark. the hillside wasn’t secured at all and, if you were being completely honest, you didn‘t necessarily trust your best friend’s driving skills.

her reckless mode of driving stemmed less from any daredevil traits the redhead didn‘t possess and more from an earnest lack of skill. not that the overachiever didn‘t try to make up for it with rigorous practice.

a car came racing down the road at full speed, blinding you with its headlights. you squeezed your eyes shut. so this is how it would end? you were still so young and there was so much you still wanted to do… oh, no—would your mother throw away your psychologically large manga collection? you didn‘t want todoroki living inside a trash can.

through some miraculous maneuvering, ningning steered the car close enough to the edge that the speeding vehicle narrowly missed you. perhaps you needed to give her driving skills more credit after all. with a heavy sigh, you slumped back into your seat. todoroki was safe.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

“soobin, my man. how nice to see you! how's the family?”

checking in at the hotel took a little longer than it might have usually. ningning was happily chatting away with the blue-haired receptionist, whom she‘d known ever since he‘d started working there five years ago. her family had been coming up there for the past ten summers or so, enjoying a few quiet weeks together in the mountains. it was quite strange, actually, that you‘d never come there with them, but then again, your own parents had always liked to keep you where they could see you. you'd spent your high school summers with your nose in a textbook, as they forced you to attend summer school and other extra study sessions because anything less than a perfect grade was unacceptable.

with heavy eyelids and throbbing heads, the two of you headed straight to bed without having dinner at the hotel restaurant. you had bought a sandwich each at the airport to snack on during the ride, so you weren‘t really all that hungry. besides, there were still a couple of days ahead of you to enjoy all the delicious mediterranean specialties italy had to offer.

the mattress of the king-size bed was soft and bouncy as you flopped down on it. you sprawled out your tired limbs, feeling as if you were lying on top of a cloud.

ningning had immediately refused the idea of getting separate rooms or even separate beds. she had always been the clingy one, hanging onto your arm or cuddling up to you while watching tv. you didn’t mind; you enjoyed the feeling of someone actually wanting to be in your presence.

being apart even for just the night would probably not have been the smartest idea anyway. attached at the hip since the ripe age of five, ningning knew you as well as the back of her hand. if left alone for even a moment too long, she feared you might fall apart. and girls who fly together, cry together! or at least that’s what she‘d said. no solitary weeping for you.

sharing beds had been as much a regular occurrence throughout your friendship as drunkenly reading juicy omegaverse stories out loud at 3 a.m.

from the time she befriended you on your first day of kindergarten, when she'd scared off a boy who‘d been chasing after you with a worm, until now, you‘d been having weekly sleepovers.

as teens, there had occasionally been the unscheduled visit too, whenever having to deal with your controlling parents had gotten too difficult.

it just so happened that skillfully climbing out of your window and sneaking over to cuddle close under her soft duvets was the only way to calm the anguish tearing you apart like a feral beast. ningning would let you cry in her arms while you told her, in between broken sobs, all about what you had apparently done this time to garner your parents‘ disapproval. the arguments usually revolved around you not wearing the right clothes, not reading the right books, not getting the right grades, not having the right friends—you get the gist. nothing you ever did was right.

even so, within the next hour, you’d usually end up giggling uncontrollably as ningning made you watch an episode of how i met your mother or funny cat videos she‘d saved just for occasions like that. she was like a witch who could spirit away your worries with a wave of her hand.

what had happened this time, however, could not be solved by some simple quality time and extensive skinship. it had forced you to escape together, to run off to another country, even if just temporarily, taking a holiday in the comune of tenno situated near the foothills of the italian alps.

it was as if the majestic peaks of the surrounding mountains had put their protective arms around you, and the soothing breeze, carrying the earthy scent of nearby forests, lulled you to sleep. for once, you slept soundly, with no nightmares coming to plague you at night, nothing to disturb your peaceful slumber.

soft rays of sunlight danced along your skin, gently rousing you from sleep the next morning. as consciousness returned, you fluttered your eyes open.

beside you, the redhead stirred, grumbling something unintelligible before burying her face in the gigantic pillow. she was sprawled out across her mattress, clinging to the covers more than they clung to her. her tousled hair, evidence of a night filled with tossing and turning, revealed her to be an unexpectedly messy sleeper.

you patted her head with a fond smile before slipping away to take a shower. the cold water jolted you awake, breathing new life into your senses. today promised to be a good day—you could feel it in your bones.

squeaky clean and feeling refreshed, you opened the bathroom door, expecting to breathe in the calm morning air drifting through the open window. instead, you were greeted with a horrendous stench that made your eyes water.

ningning was holding up a spray bottle and waved it frantically, filling the room with a cloud of mosquito repellant that made you cough violently. you buried your nose in your shirt, shooting daggers at her with your eyes. your friend pointed to the dozen bites covering her legs and arms with a grimace. holy cow.

how had you not noticed them earlier? but then again, you‘d felt a little groggy and disoriented right after waking up, vision still blurry and that lightbulb up there not fully functioning yet.

throats all irritated and scratchy, you both struggled to catch your breaths between bouts of coughing. it was clear ningning had used way too much.

you gestured urgently toward the door, but ningning was preoccupied battling a tiny mosquito buzzing around her head. insects always turned your usually rational friend into a bit of a hysterical mess.

without hesitation, you grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the room.

before you could breathe in the fresh, fume-free air, however, your body collided with something hard. the girl who had been just inches behind you crashed into you, knocking you over.

“oh, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered, frustration bubbling up. why did your intuition about the trajectory of today have to be so far off?

your fall was cushioned by something soft and very much alive. holding your spinning head, you tried to push ningning off your back while simultaneously struggling to get up from whoever you had just taken down with you.

the frantic apology you were preparing got stuck in your throat as you looked down at the gorgeous adonis underneath you.

silky black strands of hair framed his sunkissed face, and his eyes were sharp and narrow. in theory, their design should‘ve made him look angry and serious, especially after being tackled to the ground so forcefully.

instead, he stared at you in wide-eyed surprise. “wait, aren‘t you the girl from the airport? i remember you. yeah, you were wearing a blue babydoll top, weren‘t you? you almost got knocked over.“

your eyes fell to the heart-shaped birthmark on his neck. realization dawned on you. you remembered catching a glimpse of that peculiar spot on his neck under the gray hood he‘d been wearing just a day prior.

“you‘re the one who saved me from falling.“

“i guess you came to take revenge on us.“ much to your surprise, he appeared completely indifferent to finding himself intimately acquainted with the floor. his laugh was rich and infectious, his eyes twinkling merrily. god, he was cute.

he promptly got up off the floor and extended a chivalrous hand to you, helping you up in one swift motion, the muscles in his arms flexing deliciously.

the strong grip on your hand and the gentle pull willed your face to stop mere inches away from his. you could feel his warmth radiating and caught a faint scent of his cologne. your eyes locked for a moment, and it was hard to keep a neutral facade—to act like this hadn’t just completely derailed your train of thought.

his surprise at the sudden proximity faded into something softer, the twinkling of his eyes reminiscent of the glimmering water of lago di garda underneath the evening sun.

this man had you writing poetry about him, and you didn‘t even know his name.

a cough interrupted the moment, drawing your attention. "i hate to interrupt, but technically, i’m on the floor because of you. so, can someone lend a hand before you two carry on with the romancing?“

heat seared across your face. you hurried to assist ningning, who had just borne witness to you drooling over some handsome stranger after you'd pushed her so callously to the ground. this man was undeniably good-looking, though, so you hoped she’d understand.

forget bros before hoes. as far as ningning was concerned, the more hoes for y/n, the better. you really were that bitchless. it wasn’t like you hadn‘t had your fair share of what you affectionately referred to as your gentleman callers, but unfortunately the only men you were attracted to were either fictional and/or two dimensional (literally). so you ogling at a living, breathing specimen of the opposite sex truly called for celebration.

another hand beat you to helping ningning up, belonging to a man slightly taller than the stranger you’d collided with. he possessed slender limbs, an elegant face with a mole beneath his right eye, and a rosy blush tinting his cheeks against silver hair.

he pointed to himself with a cheeky grin. “and i‘m the culprit of the hit and run. glad my man jay here,“ he draped an arm around the other man, “took such good care of you.“

although his words were aimed at you, his gaze remained fixed on ningning as if she were a rare gem on display. the object of his attention couldn’t help but laugh incredulously at the absurdity of the situation.

his friend, jay, freed himself from his grasp. “that’s not really something to brag about,“ he chided his friend with an exasperated sigh. “well, this is sunghoon, my idiotic best friend but i swear he‘s alright?“ the last bit came out more like a question.

was he really alright, like mentally, jay wondered as he watched his friend unabashedly checking out ningning from head to toe, the grin on his face growing impossibly wider, giving off an air of mischief jay had grown accustomed to over the years.

“and who might you be?“ sunghoon incquired in a sultry tone, eyes lingering a tad too long on the pink pajama shorts your best friend was still wearing.

“if i tell you, will you promise to finally stop doing that,“ she gestured to his face with a frown, “weird eyebrow thing you have going on?“

sunghoon, who had indeed been wiggling his eyebrows while squinting and puckering his lips, attempted to defend himself. "i was aiming for 'man of your dreams' but i'll take the feedback," he grumbled, straightening up and relaxing his features. when he wasn‘t contorting his face, he didn‘t look half bad—he was almost as handsome as his companion, though you were clearly biased in that regard.

ningning breathed a sigh of relief, as if finally cured of a long period of intense suffering. “much, much better. and, as promised, i‘m ningning. and,“ shifting the attention to you as she nodded in your direction affectionately, “this is y/n.“

“sorry, for earlier,“ sunghoon apologized impishly, rubbing the back of his neck after receiving a warning glare from ningning.

“no harm done.“

“a lovely name for a lovely lady,“ jay remarked with a charming smile. if he was indeed flirting, you were relieved that his approach was far more refined compared to his friend’s antics. a true gentleman caller indeed.

wait—he was flirting with you? the tingling sensation that swept through your body embarrassed you enough to avert your eyes at record speed. who would’ve thought that not only would you one day find a man you actually found sorta attractive, but that he’d also be trying to woo you with his irresistible charms?

lovely, lovely ningning, the incarnation of cupid herself, someone who knew you inside out, backwards and forwards, immediately picked up on the vibes. a cunning smile tugged at her lips.

“so,“ she clapped her hands together, “would you guys,“ stare lingering on jay specifically, “like to join us for breakfast? we,“ glancing at you, “would be glad for some company.“

you weren‘t quite sure whether to strangle ningning or kiss her. if she wanted to play matchmaker, right now wasn‘t really an appropriate time. a summer fling, or, god forbid, a summer romance wasn't really what you were looking for. you thought about the reason that had necessitated your escape in the first place and shuddered. 2d men would be a much safer option.

the redhead, noticing this, gave you an encouraging smile as she touched your arm. it‘s going to be alright, she seemed to say. the tension in your body relaxed slightly.

sunghoon, completely oblivious to the very obvious scheme ningning was planning, swung his arm around jay‘s shoulder, squeezing him way too tight. he stared him down with huge, unsettling orbs and an over-the-top smile. “we would love to. right, jay?“

not a single person in this hallway was being very subtle about their intentions. it all felt a little too bizarre to be real.

jay regarded you with an unreadable expression. his gaze lingered, unwavering and deep, as if trying to read you.

finally, his face relaxed into a pleasant smile. “right, sunghoon.“

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

“i like women with opinions. so hot.“

ningning glanced at you discreetly, her face a silent cry for help.

sunghoon had his head resting on his arms, looking dreamily at the redhead sitting in front of him. it wasn‘t that your best friend wasn‘t accustomed to attention from both boys and girls, but no one had ever been so weird about it. his excessive fluttering eyelashes and exaggerated sighs made it difficult to take him seriously, as if he were a man who'd just experienced the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life and was now asking for another round.

even jay seemed lost for words, shooting sunghoon some serious side-eyes, unable to flatten his facial expression into anything other than a mix of mortified amusement and concern for his friend‘s mental state.

“has anyone told you that you‘re a bit peculiar?“ ningning asked, taking a sip from her orange juice, her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized sunghoon.

“oh yeah, all the time, but it sounds so much sexier when you say it,“ sunghoon replied with a playful grin.

“okay, time to switch the subject.“ jay needed to cut off sunghoon before he‘d start spouting even more unhinged nonsense. “we‘ve established ningning is a pre-law student who can kick ass. so, y/n, how do you go about insulting stupid people?“

“oh, i might not say it to your face but i will use you for inspiration as a villain in one of my stories and make you suffer. like, a lot.“ you shrugged nonchalantly, as if that was a completely normal thing to say.

“creative, i like that,“ jay chuckled. “so i take it you‘re a writer then?“

wildly embarrassed all of a sudden, you played with the fresh strawberries on your plate. “not exactly. i‘m an english major and, well, i do enjoy writing in my spare time. but it‘s nothing to write home about, really.“

in truth, you had a few short stories published online and plenty of my hero academia fanfics on ao3, but revealing that would literally shatter your dignity into a million tiny, irreparable pieces.

“what about you?“ you quickly asked jay, shifting the spotlight away from yourself. you were accustomed to avoiding attention, fearing that someone (usually your parents) might uncover and critique your flaws. “let me guess. you’re obviously very knowledgeable when it comes to fashion, so… fashion design, perhaps!“

jay was impeccably dressed and styled. at the airport, he had sported a more relaxed and comfortable look, but today he was wearing a dark blue polo shirt, white shorts, and wristwatch that caught the sunlight. the golden earrings added a touch of chic to his ensemble.

what had really given you the notion in the first place, however, was the fact that he started meticulously analyzing the outfit of every single person in the room the moment you entered, providing a long-winded commentary about the latest fashion trends from all across the globe. you could only hope that the white shirt dress you had on was jay-approved.

“sooo close,“ he chuckled ironically. “it‘s actually business administration and management.“

this revelation made you tilt your head curiously. jay did exude a hint of businesslike demeanor at first glance, but his personality was far from aloof. you had expected something different, something more tailored to his personality, that‘s all.

it was nice to get to know what the two strangers at the table were like, and you listened fondly to the stories ningning was telling, even though you‘d already heard them hundreds of times. you starred in most of them anyway.

the only issue was that jay seemed very interested in you. why would this be an issue, a sane person might ask. a hot, fashionable man with good manners showing interest in you. boo hoo. go jump off a cliff.

you internally scolded yourself for being so tense, but it wasn‘t easy to just let go and relax. just how much of yourself could you give away without going from a hot mess to just straight-up professional problem collector? if only you had the superpower to come up with half-truths on the spot that could make you sound way cooler than you were, but you weren‘t ningning. you were creative, yes, as illustrated by your artistic pursuits, but that creativity needed to simmer and only came loose when it wanted to. you couldn‘t summon it in an instant. you probably came across like a proper snooze-fest with the way all of your answers were as specific as a fortune cookie.

if jay was deterred by this, it didn‘t show. he was like a gold digger searching for the treasure. in this case, something you could talk about without restraint. he sensed an active inner world and was convinced he just needed to show enough genuine interest to coax it out of you. if only he knew the right things to say—

“don‘t ignore me.“ sunghoon crossed his arms in front of his chest, pouting like a kicked puppy. “if i don‘t get attention, i‘ll die.“

“much better,“ he said solemnly, when everyone turned to him, swiftly ignoring the raised eyebrows.

“ningning. i need one of your sexy opinions. hotdogs? are they a sandwich?“

the redhead blinked blankly, momentarily forgetting to chew on her food. “excuse me, what?“

“is a hotdog a sandwich,“ he repeated as if it were the most normal question in the world.

“no? yes. no! what?“ you‘d never seen your best friend so lost for words. she opened and closed her mouth, spluttering in confusion.

“shouldn‘t it be though? there‘s bread on two opposite sides.“

“but a hotdog is just a hotdog, and a sandwich is just a sandwich,“ she contemplated, treating the question with more seriousness than the situation required.

“look,“ she said, pointing the fork at him, “one has two separate pieces of bread, and the other is a sliced bun.“

“yeah, they don‘t have the same shape either,“ you chimed in. “and a hot dog has the bread on the sides, but a sandwich has it on the top and bottom.“

“would you then agree that a hot dog is a taco?“

say what now?

he shrugged. “they‘re the same shape, so according to your logic, a hotdog would be a taco.“

ningning thought about this. “i guess it would be more of a taco than a sandwich.“

“that wasn‘t the point i was trying to make.“ sunghoon muttered displeased.

“actually,“ jay had pulled out his phone, “according to merriam-webster, a sandwich is defined as having two or more slices of bread or a split roll with a filling in between. this would mean that a hotdog is, in fact, a sandwich. however—“

“ha, i told you so. guess i know more than you after all, mon chéri,“ sunghoon taunted ningning, relishing in riling her up. did he know whom he was messing with? arguing with the redhead was as safe as juggling chainsaws.

ningning folded her arms. “that‘s literally complete bullshit. have they literally never seen a sandwich before?“

“if you would let me finish,“ jay raised his voice, lips pressed into a tight line, unamused by their bickering, “the washington post argues that classification can be done by applying the cube rule, which categorizes food by the placement of starch. and hot dogs are defined by starch on the bottom and on two opposing sides.“

“so basically, what you‘re trying to say is—actually, i have no idea what you just said. i guess we just have to agree to disagree, sweetheart.“ sunghoon winked at ningning. she looked like she was about to jump at him and stab him with her fork.

ningning didn‘t lose. that was a fact. as a middle schooler, she‘d had a reputation for obliterating even the most raunchy, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, everything-phobic boys into submission. then, during high school, she‘d been known as the undefeated wrecking ball at every debate tournament, serving up verbal beatdowns like they were free samples at costco.

winning pointless discussions was what she did best.

the back-and-forth continued, phones were pulled out, receipts shown.

“yeah, i don‘t think i‘m as invested in this as they are.“ you said to jay, accompanied by a wry sigh.

“me neither.“

he was secretly glad it gave him the chance to return to the earlier conversation. what should he focus on? what moved you? you‘d been so humble about your writing; he was sure there must be more.

“you said you liked to write? any plans on becoming a published author then?“

a bitter laugh escaped you before you could stop it. you scrambled to cover it up by putting on a totally-not-forced smile. definitely not the best choice of topic.

you were the only daughter of an affluent family and expected successor to a big hotel chain. your parents had nearly combusted when you‘d chosen to study english at a smallish public university instead of sticking to the meticulously mapped-out 200-step life plan for you.

step one: no room for defiance.

step two: exceed perfection.

the arts were only ever desirable when they were being consumed, not pursued. they didn‘t understand that someone had to create that art in the first place for others to appreciate it.

writing fiction was akin to attending a formal dinner party butt-nacked, as far as your parents were concerned anyway. they judged your devotion to made-up stories as disgraceful.

despite all of your attempts to escape your so-called destiny, your parents never gave up trying to mold you into someone you weren‘t—an impossible version of yourself they expected you to eventually accept. your true personality was dismissed as “just a phase.“

desperately clinging onto your dreams, you knew that what had transpired right before your escape had the power to alter the trajectory of your entire life.

the room was quieter than a mime convention as you contemplated your life choices, wondering why there couldn’t have been an instruction manual for when shit like this happens.

jay furrowed his eyebrows. “parental issues, i assume?“

good thing your jaw was securely attached to your skull because— “how on earth? are you some kind of psychic or what?”

he gave an unperturbed shrug. “isn‘t it always parental issues, though?“

“true.“ you sipped on your water, eyeing him suspiciously. you couldn‘t believe you were that easy to read, more transparent than a freshly cleaned windowpane. mastering the art of hiding your true thoughts and feelings was the one superpower you had to learn in order to avoid nuclear-level arguments with your parents.

jay regarded you with an unreadable expression before his lips curled into a gentle smile, making you almost forget that you were supposed to be in full-on panic mode.

“so i guess you‘re here to forget all about that? tenno really is a beautiful place. it‘s so easy to put aside all of your worries once you‘re up here.“

“i think so too,“ you nodded enthusiastically, relieved that he wasn‘t going to press on about the whole parental issues thing. “it was all ningning‘s idea to come. she said she knew just the right spot, so here we are. i gather you‘ve been here before?“

“hundreds of times,“ he said. you noticed he had a tendency to trail off into laughter the end of his sentences.

“actually, i’ve been wondering—have you made any plans yet? sunghoon and i were going to walk to the art colony not far from here. not only is the route is lovely, but i think it might speak to your artistic side. what do you say?“

hell yes, you thought, but then remembered it was probably embarrassing to be so excited about spending time with someone you literally didn‘t even know.

“ningning?“ you tapped your friend on the elbow, prompting her to abrubtly cease arguing with sunghoon, leaving the silver-haired man to sulk.

“do you want to go with them today? they‘re visiting an art colony. we haven‘t planned anything, right?“

you tried to keep the pleading puppy eyes in check, hoping she hadn‘t secretly arranged any plans yet. looking at art? sounds perfect. looking at art with a hot guy? fucking amazing.

“as long as he admits that i am right,“ ningning rolled her eyes at sunghoon who regarded her with a scoff.

“you wish, mon chér—ouch.“

you had enough tact to pretend not to have noticed jay kicking sunghoon under the table.

“fine. you win this round, sweetheart.“

ningning stuck out her tongue at him and did a little victory dance. seemed like you weren‘t the only one in a good mood.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

the art colony was a medieval village named canale di tenno. as you strolled through its cobblestone streets, you immediately noticed the unusually tall stone houses, some four or even five stories high, every wall slanted and crooked. you admired their rustic facades and flower-adorned balconies.

you moved under archways and through narrow alleys, all leading to the piazzetta, the village square, where a few cozy restaurants were located. especially for someone from a big city, this small and rural village with its forty residents and handful of art galleries and shops felt like a 180 degree switch to the skyscrapers and anonymous crowds of seoul. vibrant artwork was displayed on most of the windowsills and you were welcomed with genuine enthusiasm everywhere you entered.

jay grew more and more attractive with each passing minute, acting as a tour guide and sharing his extensive knowledge about the village and its people with you.

he was now leading you through the historic house museum, known as the casa degli artisti, dedicated to the renowned italian artist giacomo vittone. the museum not only paid homage to his contribution to the arts, but the collection also featured works by other artists who‘d been inspired by the region.

the owner greeted jay like an old friend, patting him on his back as he gave him a hug followed by a kiss on each cheek. jay conversed in fluent italian, gushing over the new pieces of art that had been added since his last visit. your handsome stranger seemed to know a lot about many of the individual artworks and personally guided you through the exhibitions.

meanwhile, ningning and sunghoon seemed to be in their own little bubble, bickering for the majority of the time, but you could tell it was all in good fun. if you weren’t mistaken, and you rarely were when it came to your best friend, ningning had taken a liking to the silver-haired man. she did like being challenged, though not as much as she liked to win, and she was definitely more than capable of dealing with all the teasing and pestering he made use of to secure her attention.

you weren’t really focused on the pair, if you were being honest. you’d always been a fan of the arts, fascinated by the way literature and art intersected in many places.

you eagerly bombarded jay with question after question about the pieces, any traces of shyness had vanished, replaced by a thirst for knowledge. he smiled to himself and did his best to answer, happily delving into discussions about the color palettes and artistic forms with you, delighted to see you coming out of your shell.

after having gone through each piece in extensive length, you went into a tiny store selling art goods.

the moment you stepped in, your eyes darted from one corner to the other, heart swelling with joy, unsure where to look first. if you could have, you would have bought everything they were selling. each and every piece had been crafted by hand, none of that factory-produced stuff. all the goods were unique to the village, to that store. how you wished you could’ve properly supported the local community and all its artists.

fleeing home in a hurry meant you hadn‘t been able to exchange your korean wons to euros, and most places here didn’t have card readers.

besides, you were sick and tired of being reliant on mommy‘s and daddy‘s money. all you‘d ever wanted was to support yourself by writing novels. being dependent on your parents was one thing, but the thought of being dependent on… well, him. you shook your head to rid yourself of that painful feeling. real life could wait.

everyone ventured off on their own, taking their time to absorb the treasures inside the room for as long or as little as they liked.

at a table just behind the corner stood an army of little frog figurines made of clay, painted a muddy green. the whimsical creatures with their silly little faces warmed your heart. it was a bit strange; they were only frogs after all, yet you couldn’t help but feel an immediate attachment to them.

“they‘re beautiful, aren‘t they?“ jay appeared soundlessly by your side.

you nodded. he gently lifted one to his eyes and inspected it closely, focusing on a peculiar spot under its eye. “this one kinda looks a bit like sunghoon.“

“oh, i see it.“

you picked up another one. “and this one‘s you.“ the paint had chipped off a little at the neck in exactly the shape of a heart.

jay pointed to another one and said it looked like you.

you tilted your head to the side, staring at the frog with a puzzled expression. “how come?“

“it‘s cute.“

heat rushed to your cheeks. he looked straight at you, face completely serious.

you quickly averted your eyes. the intensity in which he studied you was too much. it made you feel a little self-conscious.

ignoring your erratic heartbeat, you continued going through the frogs, the perfect excuse not to look back up at jay. rather coincidentally, since you weren‘t really focusing on the task at hand, you found the remaining missing member of your little frog community. a tiny amphibian with lovely wide eyes bore a striking resemblance to your best friend. give her a wig and voilá—amphibian ningning.

not only did jay end up buying the four frogs, but he also insisted on getting lunch for all of you. ningning and you tried to protest, but sunghoon, already used to his friend‘s generous spending sprees, ordered an obscene amount of food as if it were the last time he would eat ever. ningning and you still felt bad about leeching off jay when both of your families were rolling in dough, but there was no point arguing with the man.

by the time everyone had finished, you felt like you were about to burst any minute. despite having to soothe your aching tummies, it was worth it. the polenta e funghi you‘d had… fucking hell.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

the way back to the hotel felt much more tedious than when you‘d walked to canale di tenno. the blisters on your feet screamed for mercy, unwilling to continue trotting under the glistening sun. your full bellies dragged you down, inviting you to lie down on the grass and close your eyes for a moment.

“how come you knew the owner of the museum so well?“ you inquired, curious to learn more about jay. you walked side by side, with ningning and sunghoon a little ahead.

“oh, i thought i mentioned it. he’s actually a distant relative of mine. i‘m not quite sure. i think he is my great aunt‘s husband‘s sister‘s husband or something like that? yeah, sounds about right.“ he rubbed the back of his neck. “he and his wife rejected the luxury of our family name and she moved here to live with him, where they'd first met and fallen in love. we haven‘t been here since they got married; i'm barely even allowed to mention him to my parents. we‘re not known for being very tolerant.“

he clenched his teeth. he hated how his family had acted. was acting. he liked his great-great-uncle, admired him even.

“i wish i had the courage to be more like him, to bravely go against expectation.“

you nodded thoughtfully. “sometimes our hearts don‘t want what others have picked out for us.“

he gave you a meaningful look, but you couldn‘t decipher it.

you were walking uphill now, labored breaths escaping you with every step. ningning and sunghoon appeared to be immersed in some conversation that required a lot of gestures, judging by their constant arm movements, but they were too far ahead, fueled by their competitive energy, for you to hear.

you watched their backs as you listened to the birdsong accompanying your journey. you closed your eyes for just a second, enjoying the lovely melody, but that was all it took. you misstepped.

jay‘s reflexes kicked in just a tick too late, and there you were, crouching on the ground, face contorted in pain, clutching your ankle. you tried to stand, but the sharp pain that shot up your foot forced you back down with a yelp. the pair ahead of you quickly rushed back to you upon hearing your agonized howl.

“let me take a look,” jay said gently.

reluctantly, you allowed him to examine your ankle, wincing as the prodded it with a gentle touch. “it hurts like a bitch.”

“it‘s swollen; i think you sprained it. you shouldn‘t walk on it, or it‘ll get worse.“

“oh, my sweet little darling! i’ll get you back safely, don’t worry. hop on.“ ningning stood with a slight forward lean, ready to receive the weight.

sunghoon affectionately tapped her head and chuckled. "it’s nice that you’re so concerned, but don’t you think it would be much easier if either jay or i carried her? not to brag or anything, but i'm pretty strong."

sunghoon‘s enthusiasm faded into mortification as he caught the warning in jay's eyes.

"or… jay can carry y/n since he is much, much stronger than i am. yes, big biceps and all that good stuff. loads of muscle. umm, if you know, you know.“

you probably had no choice but to continue the journey on jay’s back. putting pressure on your foot hurt so bad and bruises already started to form a purplish-red hue.

before you could even think about protesting, he effortlessly scooped you up and adjusted you onto his back. hands secured around his neck and shoulders, you could feel his strong muscles at work as he resumed walking.

despite the situation, you couldn‘t help but feel a little flustered being so close to him. ningning winking at you from the side probably didn‘t help much either.

jay didn't complain even once about the extra weight. on the contrary, he continued talking so effortlessly, as if he weren’t carrying an entire person on his back.

“you know, this reminds me of a hike i did in the rockies last year,“ he began, voice calm and steady. “except it was sunghoon who twisted his ankle, and i had to carry him.“

you laughed softly. “it‘s insane that you‘re not even breaking a sweat, especially, in this heat,“ you said, shaking your head in disbelief.

you felt him shrug. “years of hiking and a bit of gym time,“ he replied nonchalantly. “plus, i think carrying a beautiful girl might be giving me an extra burst of energy.“

it sure was a good thing that he couldn't see your face at that moment. your cheeks burned hot as he continued making light conversation.

jay‘s relaxed demeanor helped you forget the throbbing pain in your ankle for the most part, allowing you to genuinely enjoy the rest of the walk. with no need to focus on where you were stepping anymore, you could fully take in the view, catching glimpses of a lake glimmering through the trees.

when you reached the hotel, you experienced a confusing mix of relief and disappointment as jay gently set you down. “there you go, safe and sound.“

jay went to find some ice for your ankle, and ningning retrieved painkillers from her suitcase.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

for dinner, you indulged in strangolapreti—spinach and ricotta dumplings served with a sage and butter sauce—and some pollo alla cacciatora, hunter‘s chicken cooked in a tomato and herb sauce. jay used his perfect italian to inquire about the restaurant’s finest wines, settling on a bottle of teroldego rotaliano, made from grapes native to the trentino region. because of your stupid ankle and reliance on painkillers, however, you didn't have more than just a sip or two.

after a second bottle, some gelato and more ibuprofen for your ankle, the group decided to spend the rest of the evening playing card games, which led to some rather… let‘s say interesting bets.

"i’ll let you bleach my eyebrows and dye them pink if i lose."

"if i win, i‘m going to draw dicks on your faces."

“you have to do a hundred push-ups wearing a maid costume.“

none of the bets— or so you thought— ended up being actualized since you were far too gone far too soon. the moment your head hit the pillow, you drifted off to dreamland, the sharpie shlong on your chin moving with every soft snore.

stupid, fucking ankle. why won’t you work the way you’re supposed to?!

you felt bad beyond measure. the last thing you wanted was to spoil your friends’ fun just because your ankle decided to act like a major bitch right now.

during lunch the day before, ningning had suggested a drive down to lago di garda to explore the towns there, and you wished they would just go do exactly that today.

ignoring your pleading looks, they insisted on staying at the hotel with you but what kind of shitty friend would you be if you were to allow that.

“please just go and don‘t worry about me. i‘ll be fine here on my own. there’s plenty to enjoy—good food and maybe i’ll go chill by the pool or whatever.“

ningning, whose cheeks were stuffed with strawberries, making her look like a cute little chipmunk, shook her head vehemently. “how could we just leave you here? girl, i didn’t drag you all across the globe just to abandon you. nope, i‘m staying.” she motioned vaguely toward the guys. “these two can go, but i’m not leaving you, especially not when you‘re in such a vulnerable position right now. i really don't—“

you shot her a sharp look, halting her mid-sentence. you didn’t want to be rude, but your current predicament really was none of their business.

“yo, we‘re not heartless (well, not completely)… if you‘re stayin’, we‘re stayin‘.“ what sunghoon meant by that was that he was going to follow wherever ningning would go. probably.

you nervously looked between the three of them. “but ningning, i know you‘ve been wanting to visit sirmione. you‘ve been talking about finding that restaurant your grandma used to take you to as a kid, right?“

ningning pouted. it was true. in recent years, her grandma’s illness had prevented her from making the trip with the rest of the family and her passing still weighed heavily on ningning, who had cherished her dearly. the old lady had been your best friend‘s favorite person in the whole world. next to you, goes without saying.

“and sunghoon,“ you turned to him, “you were so excited when we made these plans yesterday. it’s your first time here so you haven‘t had the chance to explore the region either.“

jay hummed thoughtfully. “what about this: ningning and sunghoon take the drive down to the lake. i’ll stay with you. i‘ve been here countless times and have seen everything there is to see.“

now, see, you wanted to protest, you really did, but he did have a valid point. you were less concerned about him missing out than you were with sunghoon and ningning, and let's face it, the selfish desire to have him all to yourself was enough to make you waver. not only was he the most handsome man you‘d ever laid eyes on, including your 2d crushes—okay, maybe not as good-looking as todoroki—, but there was also something else simmering beneath the surface that you just couldn‘t wrap your mind around. you wanted to know what it was.

ningning caught your eye and smirked knowingly. yes, this was perfect. now she could leave you in good conscience. there was no way she‘d let you refuse now.

“have fun, you two,“ she hollered over her shoulder as she practically dragged a bewildered sunghoon away.

“poor ningning. i kinda feel bad for leaving her alone with sunghoon. again.“

you waved off his concern. “you should be worried for sunghoon‘s sake. trust me when i say ningning can handle herself.“

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

“guess you‘re stuck here with me now.”

you were both lying on sun loungers by the pool, enjoying the gentle breeze that swirled around you. you had brought a book with you, anne of green gables to be exact (one of your favorites), expecting jay to swim a couple of laps, but instead, he stayed glued to your side.

“poor me,” he said with a teasing smile, placing his hand on his chest in fake agony. “spending my time with a beautiful girl. life really gives the toughest battles to its strongest soldiers.”

you bit the inside of your cheek to keep you from grinning. “whatever.”

“what about this? we have some lunch and then—do you remember the lake you saw through the trees yesterday?—we can walk down there. it only takes five to ten minutes, so carrying you won‘t be a problem.”

“please don‘t! if you want to go, don't mind me. i‘ll be fine here.”

he wouldn‘t hear of it. “ah, ah, ah, no way! i‘m the one who really wants to show you the lake, so don‘t feel bad. besides, i’m a hundred percent confident you‘ve never seen anything that beautiful.“

“not even lago di garda?”

“not even close.”

he spoke with such confidence and self-assurance you felt it would be an insult to refuse.

the path to lago di tenno was a winding descent, flanked by dense greenery and the distant murmur of water. despite the uneven terrain and the extra weight he was bearing, jay‘s pace was unhurried and smooth.

as you approached the lake, the path leveled out and the view opened up to the sparkling water, an almost surreal shade of turquoise glistening under the midday sun. the lake‘s surface was remarkably still, only disturbed by the occasional ripple from a fish darting below. surrounded by the unbelievably clear water was a small landmass featuring lush greenery, known as isola di tenno.

standing there and taking it all in, you felt peace settle within you. the fir and pine trees of the surrounding forests climbing the steep hillsides lent an earthy aroma to the crisp air.

it was as if time had slowed down, the distant chirping of birds and the gentle rustle of leaves adding to the harmonious symphony of nature.

jay‘s lips curved into a smile at the sight of your awestruck face. “i‘m glad i was right.“

you stayed at the shore and watched him wade into the lake. the cool water rose slowly up his legs, glistening as it clung to his sunkissed skin. you had to force yourself to look away, feeling like some kind of creepy stalker.

you let him enjoy the tranquility of the lake as you sat on the blanket you had brought with you. opening your trusty sketchbook, you scanned the landscape, wondering how you could capture its divine beauty on paper. your hand started moving on its own, inspiration from all around filling your heart and soul.

a sudden voice made you jump. “i didn‘t know you could draw so well. but i guess i shouldn’t be so surprised. you really did seem to be into all the art stuff yesterday.“

jay was bending down next to you, water dripping from his hair onto the blanket, looking at the page. “this is really good.“

“you think so?“ you asked. he hummed as he dried his hair with a towel.

“i‘ve always enjoyed drawing and painting. when i was younger, i used to write short stories about my childhood dog, a bearded collie named conan—yes, i named him after watching detective conan. such a good show, by the way. have you ever watched it? i don‘t know if i‘m allowed to say this as an english major, but it‘s sooo much better than the original sherlock holmes stories. i mean, there are very different, but i guess what i‘m trying to say is that they really don‘t hit the same, you know. they‘re kinda boring, actually. all the media inspired by the original sherlock holmes is so much better. bbc‘s sherlock—“

you only realized you were rambling big time when you ran out of breath. the amused smile on jay‘s face made you wish the ground would swallow you whole.

“anyways, what i was going to say was that as i tried to bring conan alive on the pages, i thought it would be much better if you could see this silly little furball at the same time. so i started incorporating little illustrations of him every now and then.“

“i’ve never read the sherlock holmes books so i can’t really say much about them, but i did use to watch detective conan a lot as a kid (though i used to be kind of scared). conan always looked so cool fighting crime. i think it‘s an awesome name for a dog! do you,“ the eagerness in his voice surprised you, ”do you have anything you can show me?“

your hands were shaking. this felt a little too intimate, if you were being honest. still, he‘d been showing genuine interest—and hadn’t minded your ramblings—and you were in the mood to rave about your adorable dog.

“those are so cute. aww, look at his little scarf.“ he was swiping through your phone‘s gallery (a precarious situation considering the many bakudeku fanarts you had saved in your gallery) giving enthusiastic oohs and aahs when appropriate. there were so many drawings of conan. conan with his dotted red scarf. conan wearing yellow boots. conan chasing his tail. a leaf landing on conan‘s broad snout.

“i really think these are awesome. they seem to capture this little rascal‘s personality very well, and, oh my god, he is just so damn adorable. i wanna squish his fluffy butt cheeks.“

seeing this grown man get so excited about your doodles made you happier than you could‘ve ever imagined. this was exactly the feeling you wanted to evoke with your work. sure, most of your stories were primarily aimed at kids, but you believed that good children‘s books should be just as valuable to an adult, and illustrations played a big underrated role in that.

the fond, childlike look on his face as he studied your drawings started to overwhelm you. you didn‘t know how to react to praise, especially coming from someone who didn‘t know you very well so they had no reason to lie to make you happy.

you had to change the topic or you were legit going to cry. how embarrassing would that be, just straight up bawling because someone liked your drawings.

“what about you?“ you asked to push the attention away from you. “you said you were studying business administration. how‘s that?“

the mood shifted so quickly, it was like someone had flipped a switch. jay didn‘t look up from your phone, now looking at conan in a superhero costume with a serious, almost dejected expression.

giving the phone back, he blinked a couple of times as if trying to blink away unwanted thoughts.

“i mean, there are interesting concepts to learn about.“ he ran a hand through his still damp strands of hair and paused for a moment. “it’s okay, but that’s it, really. but i think you guessed that already.“ he smiled, but it didn‘t quite reach his eyes.

his gaze fixed on something far off into the distance. “there are quite a few jobs i can think of that i‘d rather do. fashion design, professional chef, hip-hop dancer... but unlike you or my great-great-uncle, i‘m not brave. if i‘d really wanted to, i could‘ve defied my parents and chosen a different path. i‘m a coward, y/n.“

you put a hand on his arm. “i don‘t know your circumstances in detail, but i understand that standing up for yourself can be more difficult than it seems. i‘m not sure what gave you the impression that i'm brave because i'm really not. despite everything, i‘m still nothing more than my parents‘ marionette.“

his sigh betrayed an uncharacteristically sorrowful heaviness.

“yet you still decided to pursue writing and drawing even though i can tell that decision must’ve not been an easy one. i know they mean well, my parents. they certainly think their plans will make me happy. i don’t think they understand. i’m not sure if i‘ve tried hard enough to make them… after all, how could they—“ his voice rose as he looked up at you with a furious expression, but he cut himself off, a horrified look on his face. he quickly collected himself again. “you know what? it doesn‘t matter. i don‘t want to think about it.“

you didn‘t press on. while you did want to comfort the inner child hurting so obviously inside him, to hug him and tell him he wasn‘t a coward and that he could be strong too, you felt like it wasn‘t your place to do so. he had set boundaries and you, practically only a stranger, weren‘t going to cross them.

it was interesting to see that your seemingly perfect stranger was not leading such a perfect life after all. you felt a little guilty, but it was reassuring in a way.

the silence that followed wasn‘t particularly uncomfortable though, both of you lost in your own thoughts.

the natural beauty and quietude all around you elicited a dreamy sigh from you.

"oh, why didn‘t i think of bringing a canvas and some paint down here with me? i guess i wasn't expecting to fall in love with this place so much. i just want to capture this moment for eternity, you know?"

"you mean like a picture?" he teased. you playfully glared at him. he held up both his hands. "kidding, just kidding. let me go grab one for you!"

as he began to rise, you placed a hand on his arm to prevent him from standing. his skin was cold under your fingers and the unexpected contact sent shivers down your spine.

"oh no, stay! please, i don't want you to have to walk all the way up there. we can just bring it tomorrow."

jay quirked an eyebrow. it took you a few seconds to understand that you had just insinuated he would have to carry you down here again the next day.

"ah, no, i‘m sorry. i kind of already forgot about my little handicap. you should definitely go do something nice instead.“

"but this is nice,“ he insisted. “something about the water and watching you draw so peacefully makes me feel at ease. life is going to be stressful enough when i have to return home. and simply said, i like sitting here and looking at the view." he winked at you and you suddenly felt a little braver.

"what was that? are you flirting with me, park?" you held your head high as you said this.

"and what if i am?"

your cheeks felt uncomfortably hot. even though you‘d responded to his wooing, you now had your tail between your legs and pretended to immerse yourself in your drawing again, doing your best to ignore the foreign feeling bubbling up inside your chest.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

late that evening, you lay in bed talking to ningning about your day.

she animatedly recounted the story of how they‘d found the restaurant she used to visit with her grandmother so many years ago. the owner had still recognized her, despite so much time having passed, and had prepared the most delicious lunch for them. sunghoon waited patiently—and surprisingly quietly—as the two ladies shared stories about ningning‘s grandmother. he even tried to cheer her up afterward by making a fool of himself in public (“he looked like he was doing a rendition of the ‘there‘s squirrels in my pants’ dance“) when she‘d started crying, suddenly overwhelmed by grief.

“he can be really nice when he wants to be. i think he‘s just a little,“ she drew out the last word, “bonkers, but our energies kind of match, if you know what i mean? he attacks, i strike back. he talks shit, i tell him why he's wrong. it’s like a game. there’s definitely never a boring moment when he’s around, i’ll give him that. oh, stop looking at me like that!“ she dismissed the smirk on your face. “it‘s really not like that. man, i saw him picking his nose, that shit turns you off. and when he came back from the bathroom, his fly was open. nothing romantic‘s going on here, i promise! but i do think we could be friends.“

she clapped her hands together, super excited all of a sudden. “enough about me. how‘s it going with your handsome stranger?“ she wiggled her eyebrows at you.

your handsome stranger. right. because that‘s what he was. no matter that your heart went into overdrive whenever he‘d look at you, and no matter how much he’d made you feel seen and appreciated, you had to remind yourself that you couldn‘t really know someone after only two days. sharing only carefully selected pieces of your stories with each other didn‘t make you close.

"i mean he is really cute," you admitted with a shrug, “but you know i can‘t. i am ‘promised‘ to someone after all.“ there. you finally said it. the issue you‘d been trying so hard to forget.

"so what? it’s not like you’re dating that dude. heck, you don’t even know him yet. i wouldn’t call it cheating if you were to have something going on with jay.“

"i know but it just seems… so pointless. you know i don't do flings but it's not like i can go on dates with him either."

when you‘d come back home, you‘d likely be getting married to someone you didn‘t know and there was not much you could do about it. you wanted to say no, heck you‘d said no plenty of times already, but it was more complicated than that.

“y/n, you can always just refuse.“

“you know it‘s not that easy…“ you clenched your fists. if only you‘d been born into a different family. or maybe if you‘d actually adhered to their life plan, you wouldn‘t be in this mess right now at all.

ningning placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "i’m sorry, i do know. i promise we’ll find a way for you to take advantage of his fucked-up situation but can‘t you still have a little fun before shit goes down? a kiss or two won't be the end of the world."

bearing that in mind, you came to sit by the lake the next day, trying to steal sneaky glances at jay while you worked on your canvas.

he was wearing a sleeveless shirt that clung to his toned frame, revealing muscular arms and broad shoulders. he had swept his hair back from his forehead, which highlighted his devilishly chiseled jawline and the intensity of his sharp eyes. every sane person would ogle at him, y/n, you told yourself. he was literally the dictionary definition of handsome and sexy, so of course you‘d stare. it was only natural. haha.

the majority of your afternoon was spent transferring your previous day‘s sketch onto the canvas and then painting over the delicate lines. jay kept you entertained, reading to you from his book, and discussing it with you.

while this might not have been a date it definitely felt like one. you read a lot of jane austen, for fuck‘s sake—you realized when something was romantic as hell. painting, reading, yapping, and all that with a hot guy. what a cruel joke. the universe seemed to have its fun taunting you, like dangling a carrot in front of a donkey.

do not be mistaken, you knew this wasn‘t love. something as silly as love at first sight did simply not exist, no matter what many of your favorite fanfics seemed to say. even suggesting you had a crush would be a crude exaggeration. but it was mutual attraction, that you were sure of, and it might have grown into something more, if not for the less-than-ideal circumstances.

what was strange was that after yesterday, jay seemed more restrained. after your little heart-to-heart, if you could even call it that, you‘d started noticing things. if you didn’t look away when his intense gaze fixed on you, you found something else there, lingering in the depths of his dark eyes. hesitancy. sadness. something that felt like… guilt?

you didn‘t know what it was, but this should‘ve been a relief. not that he was potentially struggling with something, of course, but if he‘d been flirting with you without restraint, you might have caved eventually, even though you knew it was wrong.

it was possible you might have just been misreading the signs. you had a more than vivid imagination, after all, which activated mostly in situations where more thinking wasn’t necessarily productive.

he might have just not liked the idea of getting too attached to someone he wasn‘t going to see again. with each stroke of your brush capturing the lake‘s incredible turquoise hue, you pondered whether to give him your phone number or not. the promise of a reunion might soften the unease in jay‘s eyes, you thought, but then again, would you even be able to keep it?

day four of your trip followed a similar pattern to the previous two. ningning and sunghoon ventured off on their own, though still lively “arguing“ with each other (they weren't fooling you), while you and jay walked down to the lake. talking and painting seemed to become your version of wining and dining.

that day, you had packed a second canvas, determined to teach jay the basics of painting.

“theory is important, but practice is where you bring it to life.“

you guided his shaky hands as he made his first stroke.

“start with broad strokes,“ you explained, demonstrating a sweeping motion. “don‘t worry about adding details yet.“

you kneeled behind him, arm draped around his shoulder for support as you leaned forward to place your hand over his.

he tried his best, but despite your brilliant guidance, his inexperience showed. years of looking into the theoretical aspects of art weren’t nearly enough to effectively apply all his knowledge in practice. he gained a newfound appreciation for painting after experiencing firsthand how challenging it could be. though he had to admit that you holding his hand so delicately was certainly distracting him as well.

if you hadn’t been so focused on keeping your racing heart under control, you might have picked up on the way he swallowed nervously.

on the fifth day, you managed to convince the group that your ankle was already much better.

you weren‘t exactly lying, but you weren’t being completely honest either. with rest, ice, and compression, the pain had improved significantly, but walking still wasn‘t as easy as you would‘ve liked.

the thing was, you just couldn‘t trust yourself around jay anymore. the urge to kiss him had completely spiraled out of control. it felt like what you imagined an omega would experience during their heat (not that you had any experience in that regard).

it was hard to keep up the facade of a calm, collected intellectual that was definitely not going insane over a man you’d met not even a week ago. to be fair, that facade had already started crumbling the moment you had outed yourself as a massive nerd, but still. this was worse.

showing him your drawings had been intimate enough, but then painting together—literally your own idea—the day before had been overwhelmingly, unbearably so. being so close to him, it had taken all your willpower not to seize him by his collar, pull him near, and passionately make out with him. but consent and having functioning brain cells were definitely more important, so you held yourself back—just barely.

his ridiculously charming smile, this sunkissed skin, his kind words—they had haunted you in your dreams that night. like okay, we get it. you want him. rein it in, cowboy.

so, for jay‘s own safety and also your sanity, you chose to endure the ache in your ankle as the group explored several towns surrounding lago di garda together.

for lunch, you grabbed fries from a booth and enjoyed them by the lakeside. that was until a seagull came swooping down with a squawk, startling you and causing you to drop your fries. ningning and you left the boys behind on the bench and hurried back to the stall for fresh, dirt-free fries.

"you still haven't kissed her?" sunghoon asked incredulously.

jay shook his head grimly. "i've already told you, i really shouldn't."

“but you want to?“ sunghoon pressed.

jay’s face contorted as if he were in pain. “yeah.“

"we‘re leaving in two days. if you want to kiss the girl, then kiss the girl, my dude. don‘t overthink it. it‘s not like you‘re pretending to be in love with her just to get your dick wet.“

"i didn‘t want to come here in the first place,“ jay said, choosing not to comment on sunghoon‘s blunt choice of words. “i wish i could take her out properly. buy her flowers. a kiss on the third date, if everything goes well and she likes me enough. not… whatever this is."

sunghoon seemed about to say more but quickly closed his mouth when he saw you and ningning approaching.

you stayed by ningning‘s side for most of the day, like a child hiding behind its mother, avoiding interacting with jay as much as possible. you could feel his eyes boring into your back as you walked ahead of him at a safe distance.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

the sky that evening was a canvas painted with the most breathtaking array of colors, transitioning from deep oranges and fiery reds near the horizon to softer pinks and purples higher up. you had dinner back at the hotel and were now sitting outside on the patio, drinking wine.

“oh, just imagine what the lake must look like right now,“ you mused dreamily, resting your head on your hands.

"why don‘t you go and see for yourself?" asked ningning, busy playing sudoku on her phone.

"i don't want to walk back alone in the dark. unless," you draped an arm around her shoulder, "you want to come with me."

ningning chuckled as she removed your arm. "do you know how many blisters i have from all the walking i've been doing?“

"i could come with you," came the suggestion from jay. all heads turned to him. sunghoon smirked at his friend. had he finally grown some balls?

you hesitated. was this really a good idea? you‘d been avoiding him all day for a very good reason.

but the sunset was so exceptionally beautiful; it might not be like this again before you left! oh, you‘d be fine.

so the two of you began the descent down to the lake once more—though you maintained a respectful distance to your companion. the scene was more beautiful than you could’ve ever imagined. the tranquil water of the lake mirrored the spectacular explosion of color in the sky. each ripple on the surface created by the evening breeze seemed to capture a fragment of the sunset, turning the water into a shimmering expanse of gold, pink, and lavender.

you were so entranced by the magical sunset that you momentarily forgot you were supposed to go absolutely feral for the man by your side.

it wasn‘t until the first stars began to twinkle faintly in the night sky, that you stopped walking along the shore taking pictures. the pebbles were cold against your skin as you settled down. siting there, you scrolled through the pictures you‘d taken, fireflies dancing around your heads as you admired what had just been lost to the horizon.

"back home, there is nothing nearly as pretty as this," you said softly.

"back home there is no one as pretty as you either."

you turned your head in surprise. now way you‘d heard him correctly. jay wore a serious expression, his gaze unwavering as he reached to cup your face, brushing a loose strand of hair to the side with his thumb. his eyes dropped to your lips.

“i know this is soon, but i’ll go insane if i don’t ask. can i kiss you?“

you blinked at him, your mind momentarily blank. there were things to be considered here but your brain did not seem to want to produce any thoughts, distracted by the sight of his plump lips and his soft touch. his thumb gently grazed your cheek.

"i only want to do this if you do too. i was trying to resist, but whenever i look at you, my heart starts pounding like crazy, and i keep on wondering if you taste just as sweet as you are."

"okay," you whispered against his lips, almost touching but not quite.

"i need a definite yes," he insisted.

"yes," you breathed out. "kiss me. please,” the last word came out almost pleadingly.

with that, he closed the gap and pressed his lips to yours. his movements were gentle, almost shy at first. jay moved his other hand to your cheek, holding your face delicately.

he let his forehead rest against yours, noses brushing against each other.

"wow," he breathed. you hummed in response, eyes still closed, trying to savor the moment.

you kissed him again, this time tangling your hands in jay's soft black strands while he let his wander down to respectfully rest on your waist. he responded to your kiss almost immediately, deepening it with much enthusiasm. lips parted and met with more vigor than before. the sounds that escaped your lips were all sorts of desperate as he caressed the soft curves of your body.

“finally, my omega is getting what it wants.“

you hadn‘t even realized you‘d said it until he pulled away, confusion in his eyes.

“what?“ he asked, still dazed from the kiss.

“oh, uh… have you ever heard of the omegaverse? a/b/o fics? well, how do i put it? humans are divided into alphas, betas, and omegas. and like omegas have these heat cycles, and when they go into heat, they need a lot of… um, GDDing or they‘ll go insane. good deep dicking? no? so, when they go into heat, they release all those pheromones which the alphas can smell and like they‘ll lose their minds if they don‘t do the GDDing immediately. and then there‘s knotting. that‘s when the alpha‘s penis swells and becomes engorged and then—“

“y/n,“ jay interrupted gently, rubbing his nose against yours affectionately, “i love your ramblings, i really do, and i promise you can tell me all about it later if you’d like. but right now, there‘s something else we could be doing instead?“

you swallowed nervously. “right.“

your own inner omega in heat activated again as soon as he started nibbling on your lower lip. you clung to him desperately, afraid he might let go, eagerly chasing his lips the moment he pulled away even just a little. he tugged you closer, positioning you to straddle him, allowing for a more comfortable angle to kiss. your head was quiet for once, allowing you to simply enjoy the sensation of being touched.

with his mouth on yours and his hands clawing at your waist, you never wanted this moment to end. the heat between you intensified, the world fading into a distant background. every touch, every desperate caress fueled a fire within you, igniting a longing that was almost scary, so intense and foreign was it.

eventually, though, you had to part to catch your breaths. jay rubbed soothing circles on your back with one hand, holding your face in his other as he stared into your eyes, whispering sweet nothings.

there were so many things you wanted to say, but didn't. thoughts of your fiancé back home flooded your mind.

jay continued to whisper sweet nothings as he held you in his arms, but there was so much that was left unspoken between you.

you needed to tell him. maybe he‘d know what to do, how to make this work. not now though; it‘d only ruin this sweet moment. you‘d do it tomorrow.

when each other's bodies were no longer enough to keep you warm, you decided to return to the hotel. he held your hand as you walked up the winding path, each squeeze communicating unspoken words, a silent exchange of emotions.

he bid you goodnight, his lips grazing your forehead. you were left a blushing mess as you went to sleep. ningning's light snores accompanied you as you were gradually transported to dreamland.

"what do you mean they're gone? how can they just be gone? they weren‘t supposed to leave until tomorrow." ningning said, her voice tinged with disbelief. soobin gulped nervously.

“i’m sorry, i don’t know the details. it seemed like an emergency,“ he replied, conveying what little information he had.

gone. they had left without a word. you felt your chest tighten as the reality of their sudden disappearance set in. the abruptness of his departure felt like a slap, leaving a raw, aching void where his presence had been.

“jay did ask me to give you these, though.“ soobin handed you the little frog figurines jay had bought on the first day. a small note was stuck to the underside of the one that resembled you.

i am sorry, please do not hate me. thank you for everything. you truly are special.

ningning and you had no choice but to spend the remainder of your last day alone. sulking by the pool, you lamented the short time spent together. one more day wouldn‘t have been much, but they hadn‘t even left their numbers or any other way to contact them. it was like a punch to the gut, not only to you but to ningning as well.

you wondered if there really had been an emergency. maybe you‘d managed to scare him away with your omagaverse talk. “you truly are special,“ you muttered to yourself bitterly. he probably meant special as in a fucking lunatic. god, who talked about knotting in the middle of making out? at least you hadn‘t gotten to mpreg yet or he'd have bolted immediately.

the next day you boarded an early flight back to seoul. you held onto a faint hope that maybe, just maybe, your mother would at least be relieved you returned safely. any normal parent would be concerned when their child disappeared for a couple of days without a word. only you didn’t have normal parents.

instead of relief, you were greeted with cold fury as your mother watched you enter through the front door. she barely spoke a word, grinding her teeth as she commanded you to go to your room, treating you as if you weren‘t a grown adult.

your room was your sanctuary, your safe space amidst the chaos that was your family. four large shelves divided into regular novels and manga held your literary treasures alongside funko pops of your favorite fictional characters (lots of todoroki and sailor moon). there had been instances where your mother had tried to throw everything out, hell, she’d even torn up some of your books, but you refused to let that force you into submission.

in one last desperate attempt to escape your situation, you chopped off most of your hair. if your “fiancé“ was anything like your, and presumably his, parents then he might just straight up refuse to marry you the moment he‘d see you. you thought the short hair suited you, but people could be incredibly shallow in such matters. you hoped this was one of those times.

“what have you done?“ your mother‘s sharp tone was a mixture of disappointment and outrage. she paced back and forth, gesturing to the remnants of hair strewn across the bathroom floor. “you knew how important today was!“

your mother took a step forward, her face flushed with anger. “you never listen, do you?“ she barked, her voice trembling. “you never consider anyone but yourself.“

you squared your shoulders, meeting her gaze defiantly. “maybe i‘m tired of trying to please you, mother.“

"i‘m trying to protect our family‘s interests,” she retorted, “and sometimes that means making sacrifices for the greater good. this merger with their family‘s hotel chain is crucial for our future. can‘t you see that?“

no matter how you pleaded or reasoned, nothing could sway your mother. you understood how important this merger was to your family‘s business empire, and you weren‘t so ignorant that you couldn‘t acknowledge the potential benefits. yet, you didn‘t understand why you were the one who had to sacrifice their own happiness for the sake of the family. one that had never cared about you, at that.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

the restaurant picked out for this pivotal first meeting with the chosen family exuded opulence and refinement, its interior bathed in the warm glow of chandeliers that reflected off polished wood and marble accents. as you arrived, the other family was already seated at a table near a large window overlooking a serene garden.

the mother of your fiancé greeted yours with a firm handshake, her slender figure clad in a tailored designer suit and exquisite diamonds dangling from her ears. she stood up gracefully upon your entrance, obscuring your view to the man seated behind her.

"park jiyoung, meet y/n, my daughter,” your mother introduced, her tone awfully chippy. “unfortunately, there was an accident at the hairdresser‘s, so please excuse the hair. i‘m sure it will grow out soon.“

under mrs. park’s scrutinizing gaze, which rivaled your own mother’s, discomfort pierced you like a dagger.

"welcome, y/n, to our family. it's nice to finally meet you.“ the fake smile on her lips suggested she hadn’t yet quite approved of you as the most suitable match for her son.

“and this is the pride of our family, park jongseong. i believe you‘ve met."

she stepped to the side, revealing the man sitting behind her. he stood up and reluctantly stepped forward.

he was wearing a dark blue suit that elegantly emphasized his broad shoulders, while his neatly styled black hair gleamed under the soft chandelier lights. his eyes, dark and narrow, were cast downward toward the natural stone flooring. there, discreetly nestled against the skin of his neck, you saw a detail that momentarily froze time for you.

a heart-shaped birthmark.

memories flooded your mind — turquoise waters, steep mountainsides, fireflies swirling around your head, fingers digging into the softness of your skin. standing before you now as park jongseong, the man chosen to be your husband, was unmistakably your jay. the one who had kissed you and told you you were special.

the same jay now seemed less surprised than you felt. he avoided meeting your eyes, looking like a guilty puppy caught in the act, and a suspicion stirred within you that made your stomach churn. you felt sick. impossible, you thought. but looking at the man, no, the stranger in front of you, you weren‘t so sure.

his gaze darted around the room, landing everywhere but on you, as if unable to face the weight of your shared history and the unspoken questions hanging between you. every instinct in you yearned to reach out, to demand answers, to plead with him to acknowledge the bond that had once felt so real. yet, his avoidance spoke louder than words, filling the air with a painful silence that echoed the betrayal you felt.

had it all been just an act?

a/n: omg i love you sm if you made it to the end! reblogs, likes & feedback are always highly appreciated 🫶🏻 🫶🏻🫶🏻

ngl i hope y'all don't hate me for not making this a cute simple love story LMAOO i'm already working on a part 2

here are pictures of lago di tenno btw! i didn’t lie about the color

[therealvinelle]

From what I can tell, in the actual books there's just one line from Sirius saying Alphard left him some gold, and not much other canon mention of him. How did Alphard become such a big character in your fics/Tom Riddle's love interest?

You know, that's a very good question.

The true and full story behind how Alphard Black became an important character in our fics is laden with a lot of spoilers and back-and-forth, though I will say it wouldn't have happened at all if @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin hadn't already used him in When Harry Met Tom. When we later then needed to add a character for The Man Who Would Be King, Alphard's name lent itself easily and on discussion we found he was the only that really fit the role we needed a character to play. He went on to become a surprisingly large part of secret fic, now we've imprinted on him like baby ducks and he's in everything.

So, what makes Alphard Black so fitting for what we need him to be?

We have little to go on from canon, but compared to some of the other characters fandom has decided on characterisation for, we at least have something to go on when we make stuff up. Oh, we have to conjecture, fabricate, and headcanon away, and for every possible Alphard Black we draft up someone could have used those same clues to create a different Alphard, but we would both be following certain constraints.

By contrast, characters like Alice Longbottom or Abraxas Malfoy have very strong fanon characterizations, a lot read into them, but I'd argue we have just as much, if not slightly more, to go on with Alphard Black.

With that said, here is the information we have on Alphard and how Muffin and I used every bit of it to make up as much as we could.

Teen pregnancy 1.0: Pollux edition

Alphard's sister was born when their father Pollux Black was twelve, and his father married her mother. Going by his young age, I assume this was so Walburga wouldn't be a bastard. Walburga, by her painting's ravings, appears to have spent all her life in 13 Grimmauld Place, she feels a connection to "the house of my fathers" and always had a strong sense of Black identity she tried to pass on to her sons: I think it's a very fair assumption that the Blacks raised the baby, and not her mother's family (as her mother would have been in Hogwarts as well or else a statutory rapist, either case spells a grim homelife for Walburga).

Now, Alphard's birthdate is unknown since he's struck off the family tree, but it was sometime between 1925 and 1938.

Muffin and I have decided that he was born the next year, since this gives Tom a dorm mate, and more importantly it gives Alphard a teen father, one who learned nothing from last year and assumed no responsibility. Tom now has a fucked up dorm mate, and we didn't have to (completely) invent a character.

You now have two kids raised by family members not their parents since their father is a literal thirteen-year-old, and the generational age gap is so narrow that when Walburga starts school her paternal aunt Dorea is canonically a fifth year. They want for nothing materially and the family does step up, but the complete parental absence in their life has an impact.

For the sake of funny, we thought Arcturus Black, who is already raising Lucretia and Orion, is our candidate for raising his cousin's spawn. Now Walburga's marriage to her second cousin is to someone who was raised alongside her, which is funny and so awful. Another feasible candidate is Cygnus Black, Pollux's father and currently raising four kids, but... not as funny.

Teen pregnancy 2.0: Cygnus edition

Cut to 1951. Alphard is a happy bachelor, his father has stopped having kids (legitimate ones anyhow), Walburga's happily married to their cousin, and then... their brother Cygnus does a booboo.

Bellatrix is born, Cygnus is thirteen. Andromeda's birthdate is unknown, but must have been while he was in Hogwarts because Narcissa is born in 1955, while he is still seventeen.

The same problem as with Pollux arises with Bellatrix: who wants baby? And, as with Walburga, I think a fair argument could be made that the Blacks took her in, not the Rosiers.

There are many options here (and can't rule out the Rosiers), but I think it's fair to assume Bellatrix went to live with close family.

Per the Black family, this gives us three options that I find feasible: Walburga, Alphard, and Pollux.

I don't think it was Walburga, I think that would inevitably have come up in canon, either as Walburga lost her shit when Andromeda eloped, handled her grief differently after Regulus died if she had surrogate daughters, or Sirius had a different dynamic with Bellatrix. The Orion-Walburga-Sirius-Regulus family unit doesn't come across at all as having had three nieces raised alongside the boys, so Walburga's a no.

Which leaves us with Alphard, Pollux, someone in the Rosier family, or extended Black family raising Bellatrix.

Pollux, per his wild youth, might not be topping the lists. One could posit that Pollux wants a second shot at parenting and would take in his granddaughter based on this, but he already has Cygnus if he wanted a second shot at parenting. Still, he's a candidate.

So is Alphard, however, who is living alone and has no wife to worry about, no children of his own, and a pile of gold. Per his choice to give Sirius gold after he ran away, one can also assume he's one to come through for family, which fits with taking in his much younger brother's daughter.

TL;DR: we can't prove Alphard Black didn't raise the Black sisters, or at least care for them in their early years, but someone must have and it might as well have been him.

Let there be no pregnancies and no marriages

We then enter the bit that had Muffin go "oh, gay. I will use him in my fic" long before any of the detective nonsense to come up with the above, which is that Alphard did not marry. Now, that could mean anything, perfectly straight people don't marry and gay people do marry.

However, from 1938 through 1960, no Black heirs are born. Which isn't necessarily a long time, on the contrary, Cygnus has been supplying the family with children for years now, luck just had it so they're all daughters who can't pass on the family name.

Still, taking a step back, Orion, Walburga, Alphard, and Lucretia (who married a Prewett) are all adults who are just not having any children. The Orion and Walburga are perhaps not even married, we don't know when they married, and it could be they married specifically because neither of them had found anyone else to marry and there were no sons. Alternatively, they married earlier but then did not have children until they were in their mid-thirties. Considering Lucretia's childless marriage, it might be some Blacks struggled with infertility.

A bit of nerding about why I think Walburga waiting so long to have children is odd

The tldr for Western European demographics is that if you can afford to have children and provide for your family, you will marry and have children early. The upper classes have historically married and had children much younger than the lower classes because of this. The mother's education will also impact when she has children - higher education means having children later.

I think we see this reflected in the wizarding world, in that education is both low (arguably nonexistent, considering the curriculum at Hogwarts) and in magic making material considerations Muggles must make obsolete. And we do see a lot of young parents - Lily and James are both 20 when they have Harry, Andromeda is maximum 24 when she has Nymphadora Tonks, Molly Weasley is 20 when she has Bill, Narcissa is 25 when she has Draco, Fleur would have been 23-25 when she had Victoire, Harry and Ginny are 26 and 25 when they have James Sirius, Hermione and Ron are 26-27 when they have Rose...

Young is the norm.

And with the Blacks, who were lineage obsessed, and where Walburga is never reported to have had a career keeping her busy, I find it very interesting that Walburga doesn't have children until she's 35.

There are three possible explanations I can see:

Walburga and Orion didn't want to have children, and waited for Alphard or Cygnus to get on with it, only for Cygnus to only have daughters and Alphard to have no children at all (bit unlikely since they had two sons, a couple who pointedly did not want children would have called it quits after the first)

They had fertility issues

Walburga and Orion did not instantly marry, but waited for years until it became clear Orion wasn't going to find anybody else, Alphard apparently not either, and Cygnus said "fuck you all, I've contributed three kids already", at which point Walburga and Orion were both single, both cared about the lineage, and went for it.

We've gone for option 2 since it's just funnier to have a pair of cousins all over each other at Hogwarts, "Aren't they-" "Yes and they're very happy together :)", but I think option 3 is pretty feasible too.

Either way, you can read into Walburga and Orion from the late births of their children and you also get free Alphard characterisation, because his choice not to marry starts to look rather pointed.

Back to Alphard

While the Blacks were not dying out at the time, they also weren't swimming in children. Only Cygnus was passing on the family name, and that was exclusively to daughters, and he went on to have no more (legitimate) children after leaving school. Pollux wasn't having any more (legitimate) children, and while there are and grandfathers uncles on the family tree who could do the deed they were quite old, many unmarried, and most importantly they canonically had no children.

We're down to Alphard, Orion, and Cygnus having to pass on the family name, with Orion and Walburga a decade into their marriage with no sons to show for it. Sure, Cygnus could have sons, but that would be placing all their dragon eggs in one dragon basket (and indeed, he had no sons).

Why doesn't Alphard marry?

The family must have brought it up, if not pressured him. Alphard not marrying in a world where arranging a match would have been the easiest thing in the world looks to me like a deliberate refusal.

The giving of the money to the Sirius

This all brings us to the one thing we know for sure that Alphard did in his life: he willed money to Sirius after he'd been disowned.

We know Alphard was not a blood traitor prior to this, or he'd have been burned off earlier.

I frankly take this to mean Alphard most likely subscribed to pureblood supremacy, or at least he did not mind it enough to do anything else to cross his family. Giving money to Sirius isn't a political act, it's an uncle providing for a family member who has suddenly lost everything.

(And, if we assume Alphard himself is gay: it's an uncle who sees his nephew run away from home to be with his best friend, and perhaps drawing a few conclusions of his own about the strength of Sirius's friendship to James. There are many ways to interpret his choice to support Sirius financially, is what I'm saying.)

It also seems a distinct overreaction to me that Walburga would burn him off the family tapestry for something like this, and... it seems very much like one angry, mourning, woman's way of hurting a brother she can no longer confront. If she had been hoping Sirius wouldn't make it out in the wild and be forced to return, then Alphard giving him money would be a betrayal of the highest order.

Walburga putting a cigarette to her wallpaper isn't the same as the entire Black family disowning Alphard posthumously, it's an act of grief and anger.

Where we make things up wholesale

I'll go ahead and assume Alphard was gay, had a good and stable but slightly fucked up family life, and got overly attached to his dorm mate Tom Riddle as a stranger to all of this who perhaps seemed above it all. I also vote he raised Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Andromeda, because it's a more interesting option than Pollux. (In case you didn't notice, Muffin and I subscribe to the Black family being as fucked up as we can reasonably make them.)

Vinelle, what was the point of this?

My point is that we may not have any canon appearances to go on with Alphard Black, but we do have dates, biographical facts, what he did with his will, a few statements from Walburga's insane painting and other characters, and a whole lot of imagination. And an obsessive tendency.

And a willingness to say "Mm, no. Can't read. Sorry, that fact's just wrong." when we don't like things (more specifically, Sirius's phrasing making it sound like Alphard died not too long after Sirius ran away from home, which would make him dead for The Man Who Would Be King, a fic that takes place in 1982. We will assume Sirius meant "gave", not "left".)

Wee.

[veneritia]

when comes the dawn monthly update {01.30.2025}

First monthly update of the new year!

THE STATISTICS

the draft → 64,598 words * words written this month → 6,008 words average word count per session this month → 501 words words written this year → 6,008 words

* my draft is spread across multiple docs so this number may not be 100% accurate

STORY NOTES

We have another Nike POV scene! Ft. Nike being the complete opposite of a wife guy, and a grown ass man pouting over having to wear green because his wife told him to :( (but with everything the guy's been through, he deserves to pout)

Fenice comes out of the gate swinging and decides that the best way to build a base of power and influence is by alienating herself from potential allies. Don't worry, Leda is there to tell her that that's a stupid plan actually

New character unlocked: [High Commander Selene Doriaskora]

I've decided to lean a lot more into Fenice and Charles' relationship from this point on and put a lot more emphasis on the fact that 1) they've known each other since they were kids and are in fact the closest among the vi Aetier siblings, and 2) allying herself with Charles is Fenice's best chance of surviving the King's Game until she becomes a strong enough candidate on her own

I'm way too scared to go back into earlier chapters and fix them to make them fall in line with the new directions I'm taking because I'm afraid that I'll end up slashing 70% of them, so we're just gonna wait until I finish act 1 to do that.

EXCERPT

“My good lords and ladies,” she spoke, ringed fingers drumming staccato at the head of her armrest. “My Imperial father has sent me here with two missions in mind. The first is on a hunt.” She lets the word ring clear through the air, letting it sink into every person’s mind. “The man known as Isandros Deominos is to be  branded a criminal. An enemy of the state. He will be caught, and he will be executed as per the will of His Imperial Majesty. Those who are found to be aiding Isandros, whether it be harboring him, cooperating with his schemes, or failing to provide any information as to his plans or whereabouts, will be found guilty of treason and punished to the full extent of the law.”

Fenice sat back, her eyes hardened. “He may have once been a prince to all of you, but now he is simply nothing more than a man running on borrowed time. His fate is inevitable, and the Fortune-Weaver has turned her gaze away from him. Loyalty to a dying man will earn you nothing.” And then as if a page was flipped, or the mask changed, her face became warm again and Fenice smiled serenely at her audience as if she did not just condemn Nike’s brother to die. “But I am not just here as an executioner, no. His Imperial Majesty has tasked me with bringing peace and order to the land, and that is exactly what I intend to do.”

BLOG STUFF

Check out my 2025 resolution bingo for this month's WTW event! It features all of my writing goals for WCTD

TAGLIST (ask to be +/-)

@bloomingwrites @writinglyra @zmwrites @trapped-inadystopianovel @inky-duchess @aalinaaaaaa @seasteading @kaatiba @serpentarii @lazulis-stuff @sourrcandy @charlesjosephwrites @marrowwife @forever-and-almost-always @halcionic @caninemotiff @socialmediasocrates @zorya-km @smolandweirdwriter @floweryprosegarden

[j-trow-95]

2024 in review

Thanks for the tags @artsyunderstudy and @nausikaaa

Wow. 2024 has been ... a year.

I've spent this last year flip-flopping between periods of intense creativity and intense burnout. I've barely posted anything on here, and even less over on AO3, but I have been writing, and the plot gremlins have been working overtime when it comes to planning out where the WIPs are going.

Object permanence and keeping timelines straight in my head are things I struggle with, so I can't remember exactly when I actually achieved any of these things, but I did, and that's all that matters.

Huge thanks as always to Ashton for the incredible artwork in this fic, and for the beta help along with my editor Zoë, @cutestkilla and @iamamythologicalcreature

I posted one chapter of The Trails We Blaze, my 2023 @carryonthroughtheages fic, which is a SnowBaz/The Road to El Dorado au.

Simon and Baz have been through a lot together. Growing up as criminals on London's streets; surviving the Great War; dealing with a lot of repressed feelings. But after their latest con goes wrong, they're left with nothing but an ancient map, a signet ring of unknown provenance or value, and promises of a city that doesn't even exist.

Thrust into a world of adventure with danger at every turn, they're forced to decide how far they're willing to go for a myth, a fortune, and a chance at love.

This fic is going to be a real labour of love and I have big plans for it going forward. If you haven't started it yet, here's what to expect:

adventure across post WW1 England, France, and Spain

exciting action

political machinations

idiots in love pining for each other

epic romance (when they eventually get their shit together)

I know roughly how this is going to end, and I have a first draft up to the 'It's Tough to be a God' sequence (if you know the original film), but I'm currently trying to rewrite a large section of that draft. Discovery writing has been a massive learning curve for me, but I'm excited to get back to this fic and the characters.

Again, massive thanks to Ashton for the stunning artwork of Lauren. I never stop geeking out over the fact I get to call this incredible woman my friend, and that I get to actually look at my chaos gremlin MC anytime I want!

Most of my time writing this year has been spent on approximately the billionth rewrite of my original novel, A Survivor's Revenge.

I am desperate to get this story into the hands of readers, whether that's though trad or indie publishing, and so far I've had good feedback from my editor and alpha reader on the previous draft. But me being me, I couldn't leave it at that.

So now I'm rewriting the book and completely changing the way it's written. The shift from 3rd person/past tense to 1st person/present tense has finally got things moving in terms of developmental edits; the plot flows more smoothly, character interactions and growth are coming more naturally, and for once the villain motivations and plans are becoming clear! Praise the chaos gods.

Lauren Atkins is many things. Student. Daughter. Friend. But at her core, she’s a survivor. And she has one thing on her mind … revenge.

For the lovers of genre spanning sci-fi, morally grey main characters, full spectrum queer identities, and found family, A Survivor’s Revenge will have you asking, how far are you willing to go to protect the ones you love?

I went back and looked at some super old drafts of ASR a couple of months ago; after a conversation with my alpha reader decided to reinstate an old plot line that I'd shelved, and I am super excited to get back to this one. Lauren has become even more morally grey since I last handled this plot line, so things are going to get very bloody very quickly.

So the last two months have been spend sporadically rewriting this behemoth, and I'll be continuing that into January. Originally I was doing this as part of the PaWriCo writing challenge, but I don't think I'll manage to finish the full draft by the end of January. Currently it's sitting at 27.3k words, and if I wanted to hit par I should've been at 65.2k. So, likelihood of hitting 100k by 31st January is minimal.

This little floof is largely the reason for me falling behind.

Benjamin has been back in the vets consistently since the end of November for scans and surgeries, and now for an ongoing infection following the most recent surgery. It's safe to say my nerves and wallet are strained to the maximum, but he's 100% worth it.

So yeah. 2024 may not have been the most productive year for writing, but things have been happening behind the scenes, and I'm hopeful that I'll be able to share more in the new year.

I've missed interacting with people on here, I'm tired of just lurking. This chaos gremlin is back, baby!

Tagging (sorry if you've already done something like this):  @aristocratic-otter @blackberrysummerblog @bookish-bogwitch @cutestkilla @emeryhall

@hushed-chorus @iamamythologicalcreature @ic3-que3n @ileadacharmedlife @letraspal @orange-peony

@shrekgogurt @skeedelvee @theearlgreymage @you-remind-me-of-the-babe 

[planetkiimchi]

and they were roommates | l.dh

featuring: lee haechan x masc!reader, nct dream

warnings: a little (?) bit of gore, blood, and a “crunching sound” which in my head was bone breaking. swearing but not a lot, alcohol is mentioned, ynhyuck get really drunk at some point, the first line is a bit painful to read but that’s just what cold weather feels like, yn has major regrets quite a lot. y/n is oblivious but in their defense, donghyuck is really fucking flirty and the mixed signals are confusing to everyone. y/n doesn’t like coffee (deal with it) and eats pizza in the absolute weirdest way possible.

word count: 13882 words

playlist: nonsense by sabrina carpenter // photograph by ed sheeran // fallin' (adrenaline) by why don't we // sweet nothing by taylor swift // coffee shop by flowerovlove // really wanna dance with you by new rules

summary — lee donghyuck is the most flirtatious person you’ve ever known and he makes you feel welcome in the foreign country. it makes sense that you gravitate towards him, but what do you do when you realise you’re falling for him with every act of his?

a/n: this has been rotting in my drafts since march, and it really only made it out because of @winterchimez thank you so, so much to ally for reading this longass incoherent fic and allowing me to share this piece of my heart with you guys

if you liked it, REBLOG it.

THE BITING WIND BLEW HARSHLY at your cheeks, turning them redder than they already were. It felt as if there were a million shards of ice slowly chipping away at your skin, your skin cells freezing off your face.

What a warm welcome to Seoul, you thought sardonically.

You had enrolled in Seoul Institute of the Arts for one reason alone, and that was that the only cousin who was your age, Na Jaemin, had applied to go there last year. Having made an unexpected decision not to go into Neurosciences like the rest of his friends, Jaemin found himself blissfully alone and afraid to apply. He wasn’t planning on going alone, yet he desperately wanted to get in, so he had decided to turn to you for assistance.

That was the first time you had heard him admit that you were his favourite cousin (you probably weren’t). You had been on the other end of the spectrum at the time, completely unsure what direction you wanted your life to continue in. You had had no idea what to pursue, and had hence decided to make an impulsive decision to apply to Seoul Institute of the Arts with Jaemin.

To be very honest, you hadn’t expected to get in. It was a spur of the moment decision, and SIA was an extremely prestigious university. Your background in visual arts was minimal, so you were mostly relying on your extensive dance history to carry you through it.

Unfortunately for you, it worked. This was how you had ended up on the plane to Seoul a year later, your regret almost as bitter as the cold when you thought about how lonely you would be.

Your grasp of the Korean language was minimal, and you hated how the phonetic sounds differed just slightly, enough for you to get it wrong but not for you to understand why.

It was alright when you lived in the United Kingdom, because there you only had to say a few words in Korean to impress your non-Korean relatives. Privately, your mother had taken you out of the Korean international school when she saw that your Korean hadn’t improved in the slightest.

In Korea, you would be disadvantaged both by the language barrier and your lack of passion for your major. Besides, if the weather continued to be as cold as it was at the moment, you might as well have stayed in England. At least there, you could romantically share an umbrella with someone in the dreary rain. What could you do in Korea, huddle with someone as you ran from building to building while a flurry of white snow fell from the sky? How pathetic.

You were absorbed in your thoughts, feet carrying you mindlessly through the steps towards the arrival area. You struggled and stuttered your way through immigration with broken sentences, finally making your way to the taxi stand.

You were mentally preparing yourself to exit the warmth of the airport and face the freezing temperatures when you heard your name, face turning towards the direction of the familiar voice.

Jaemin ran up to you, the soft smile gracing his face as close to a wide grin as you could get from him. He threw his hands around you, hugging you tightly, and you collapsed into his warmth, so relieved that he was there. Maybe Seoul wouldn’t be so bad after all.

When he let go of you, composing himself, you took the time to scan the new faces. Jaemin hadn’t come alone; he had come with three other friends, who were all looking at you expectantly with welcoming gazes.

“I’m L/n Y/n,” you told them politely. “Jaemin’s my cousin, and my mother and his father are siblings.” With that, you ran out of things to say, and you stared at the group with an awkward smile as the silence turned thick with hesitation.

The silence was then broken by a rather cheerful individual amongst Jaemin’s friends, who said, “Shall we go? It’s late, and I’m sure you’re tired from the long flight. We’ll take a taxi back to the dormitory and show you your room. You and Jaemin are staying together, right?”

You nodded gratefully as the young man took the lead, and the rest of you followed suit. Jaemin reached out to help you with your luggage, but you shook your head. There was no need since you hadn’t brought much to Korea. You intended to buy anything you needed there since you assumed the clothes you needed would be quite different from those you owned.

You quickly came to realise that the young man who had just spoken was the only extrovert in the group. You and Jaemin were introverts and perfectly content to sit in silence. The others didn’t seem to make any attempt to strike up a conversation, letting the silence settle comfortably over you. However, despite being in the passenger seat and therefore the furthest from the rest, the young man simply wouldn’t stop talking.

He introduced himself as Lee Donghyuck who had graduated from the same high school as Jaemin. He and Jaemin had only met a month ago when they first moved into the dorm. You had had to make arrangements for your flight when you received the acceptance letter, so you were among the later few to arrive.

Although Donghyuck and Jaemin were essentially strangers, it wouldn’t have seemed so to a passerby. Donghyuck ensured that there was never a dull or awkward moment and that no opportunity to flirt with his friends was missed.

You had only known Donghyuck for an hour and yet you were already starting to like him. You relaxed into the seat, closing your eyes and exhaling in relief as the sound of Donghyuck’s voice prattling away filled your ears.

He talked during the entire ride, telling you about the rooming conditions—four to a room, and you were with him, Renjun and Mark, the other two in the car—, the professors’ reputations that he had gotten from the seniors, and the other three boys who were sleeping and weren’t able to pick you up.

Usually a talk like that would have drained your energy, using up all your social battery trying to think of a reply to keep the conversation going. However, the thing about Donghyuck was that he didn’t expect you to answer. He was perfectly fine with the sound of his voice being the only thing filling the silence, which made it much more bearable.

—

You only realised that you had fallen asleep when Jaemin shook your shoulder to wake you up. In the corner of your bleary vision, you caught sight of Mark paying for the ride, and you instinctively reached for your wallet before realising it was safely tucked away in your back pocket. Which you were sitting on.

Sighing, you silently apologised to your parents for not maintaining basic etiquette and insisting on paying, clambering out of the taxi with shaky legs, feeling a little tired (not that you would admit it).

You soon realised that Donghyuck was a clingy person. While you leaned on Jaemin for support as you wheeled your luggage along, he leaned on Renjun’s shoulder, upbeat as ever despite the late timing. The high-pitched voice that he used to talk to Renjun would have been cringey if it wasn’t him doing it. Somehow, when Donghyuck was doing it, it was cute and endearing.

The room that you were assigned was on the second floor, so you had to choose between climbing the stairs and lugging the heavy luggage up or walking out of the way to find the lift.

Obviously, as the lazy person that you were, you chose the former. With a grunt and a heave, you somehow managed to get the luggage up the stairs while Donghyuck cheered you on.

“You’ve got this, Y/n! I believe in you!” When he saw that it wasn’t working, he even threw in a little “Fighting!” and you smiled despite your exhaustion. You would have laughed if the ache in your shoulders wasn’t killing you.

Fortunately, that was the hardest part. The rest was easy—you left your shoes outside the door, placed your luggage at the side so you could unpack your nightwear and take the things you needed for your shower. Donghyuck, Mark and Renjun followed you inside while Jaemin retreated to his own room.

The room was surprisingly cozy, with enough space for a bookcase, desk, and four single beds. There was a mini fridge in the corner of the room, so that was what you went to first.

The guys had placed their personal belongings neatly, so you followed suit, taking out your personal items and setting your luggage upright against the wall. While you did so, Mark and Donghyuck used the two attached restrooms to get changed while Renjun sat on the floor and watched you curiously.

“Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking? You couldn’t have studied in Korea, surely. Jaemin didn’t exactly tell us much about you,” Renjun said.

“My mother grew up in Korea, and went to England to study. She met my father there, and I grew up in England, but I do know a little Korean,” you said with difficulty. “And you? Your name doesn’t sound very Korean either.”

“I’m from China but came to Korea because my grandmother suggested it. I actually came on a scholarship and went to the same high school as Donghyuck. All of us went to the same one, actually.”

You nodded in understanding. Understandably, people gravitated towards those they knew, especially in unfamiliar environments.

“Donghyuck actually initiated this. I’m not sure if you realised, but he’s very outgoing. He somehow found out all of our phone numbers, knew of my existence through passing me in the hallways, got Jaemin’s number from a mutual friend, Jeno, and created a group chat. Even now, I still think it was a lot of effort, but it seems to have worked. And, you know, it isn’t half as awkward anymore.”

That did sound like something you would expect of Donghyuck, you thought. As Renjun finished speaking, Donghyuck and Mark came out of the restroom, and you brushed past them as you went inside to take a quick shower.

—

The shower did wonders for your exhaustion. Your muscles didn’t feel half as tense anymore, and you actually felt fresh and comfortable in warm clothes. You rubbed your hair dry as you exited the restroom, glancing at the filled beds.

Mark and Renjun were lying in bed, and they gave you a quick goodnight as you made your way over to the last empty bed, right next to Donghyuck. He was dressed in a baggy hoodie, sitting hunched over at the edge of his bed, looking intently at his phone.

If it were Jaemin, who also happened to have a terrible shrimp posture, you would have tapped his back to remind him to sit up straight, taken his phone from him while setting it down on the bedside table and told him to sleep.

As it was, he was Donghyuck, not your cousin, so you didn’t have the right to do so. Instead, you snuggled into your bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin until you were nice and warm, shutting your eyes as you said, “G’night, Donghyuck.”

You didn’t see him raise his head and turn to see you, smiling when he realised that you had spoken to him properly for the first time that day. He whispered softly, “G’night,” and put his phone away. He let out a sigh of relief as he flopped onto the bed and fell fast asleep.

YOU QUICKLY SETTLED INTO A ROUTINE at the university. It was easy to do so when each of your days had a set schedule and things for you to do. It was never monotonous, but the structure helped to keep you going and not stop.

In the mornings, you woke up to beverages on the table, which Donghyuck bought for everyone. At first, he hadn’t gotten your order right. He had memorised the others’ orders during the month that they had been roommates before you arrived, but took a couple of times to get what you wanted right.

Coffee from Donghyuck looked something like this: a cup of steaming hot coffee would somehow make its way to the table in the mornings after you came out of the shower, or finished changing your clothes. The coffee was always accompanied by a note. For Renjun, it was a compliment, and it was often about how pretty his eyes were. For Mark, it was either a “you’re so amazing, never forget it”, or a “stupid fool”. There was never an in-between.

And for you?

Well, on the first day, it was a frappuccino with plenty of sprinkles on it, the sugar content so high you were sure it made up for the lack of actual caffeine in it. That gave you a sugar rush so bad you could barely sit still in lectures, knees constantly jiggling under the table.

You knocked over your bottle twice that day and even almost dropped your laptop on the floor because your knee hit the bottom of the table, causing your laptop to slip.

After that, Donghyuck realised sugar wasn’t your thing.

The second day, he went for an espresso that probably had eight shots in it. (It was then accompanied by a pickup line, “do you have a map? cuz i got lost in your eyes”. It was cheesy, but some part of your heart found it cute.) You recognised it as Jaemin’s order, and had laughed to yourself when you realised that Donghyuck wasn’t very good at guessing what you liked.

However, you stopped laughing as soon as you tasted the drink. The espresso was pure caffeine, so black and bitter you wanted to spit out every sip you took of it. You probably would have been better able to stomach a shrimp linguini that you were allergic to than you did the espresso.

That day was pure hell. Your classes didn’t begin until the afternoon, so the day began with a dance class. You missed your bus and had the taste of the espresso in your mouth while you suffered through your dance class. The teacher was strict, which you generally didn’t mind, but that day, it felt like he was out to get you. He corrected you at every turn, and you had every mind to quit.

Afterwards, you realised that you had forgotten to do the pre-reading for your class and had to rush it as you sprinted to the building, only managing to absorb at most a quarter of what you were meant to know.

To make things worse, you had gotten lost three times trying to find the classroom and were late and completely lost for the whole class. You eventually gave up trying to comprehend what was happening, instead leaning over to the seat next to you and asking your classmate to send you his notes.

He was a little confused, but he agreed, and that was how (you thought) you made your first friend outside Jaemin’s friend group.

It later turned out that his name was Jeno, and he was the mutual friend that Renjun had told you about. So he knew both Donghyuck and Jaemin, so all your pride in talking to someone new dissipated faster than the taste of espresso in your mouth.

Since you didn’t really have many other friends besides the “dreamies”, which was what Jaemin’s friend group called themselves, you had no one but them to complain about your terrible day.

Donghyuck learnt his lesson for the next time. The third time, Donghyuck bought you jasmine green tea with boba at 25% percent sugar because he “remembered that you didn’t like the sugar rush the first time”. He had circled the sticker on the cup in red pen so you could see the exact order and had written: without milk, because i'm not sure if you’re lactose intolerant.

You were glad that he had finally caught on and realised that you didn’t like coffee much. While you weren’t the biggest fan of tea, you did enjoy boba and that ended up being the most pleasant beverage out of them all. It was partly because he had considered your possible allergies and remembered your dislike of the frappuccino. But more importantly, you liked it because Donghyuck had put so much effort into trying to find something that you would like instead of simply asking you what you liked like a normal person.

However, even that wasn’t the end of it. Donghyuck could tell from your reaction to the drink that it wasn’t something you were expecting and was dead set on finding out your favourite drink order.

It took about five more tries before he finally found out.

It happened when Mark came to pick you up after your dance class, with Jisung (one of the dreamies) in the passenger seat and Donghyuck in the back seat of the car. You had all but collapsed into the seat, limbs tiredly splayed out across the backseat of the car.

To his credit, Donghyuck hadn’t complained about you taking up space, only shifting so that you could comfortably sprawl across two seats while he sat upright in his. When you stretched and knocked his jaw, he laughed good-naturedly and lowered the middle seat so that you could prop your head up and rest comfortably.

When you woke up, the car was parked in front of a convenience store, and Mark told you that Donghyuck and Jisung had gone to get some ramyeon and other items.

Despite Mark’s protests, you zipped up your jacket and climbed out of the car, intent on getting yourself a box of Nesquik packets to get your energy up after the long day.

You intercepted Donghyuck at the glass doors, dragging him with you as you made your purchase and held it in your hand sheepishly as you followed Jisung back to the car, waving your box of Nesquik packets at Mark in explanation as you entered the car.

Mark nodded knowingly, and as he started driving off, he asked, “You’ll make me a cup too, right?”

You nodded, replying in English. “Of course. That’s what friends are for.”

“Oh, so you’ll make it for me because we’re friends, not because you want to thank me for my driving services?”

“That too,” you shrugged. Donghyuck looked between the two of you, completely lost.

“Can I have a translation, please?” As Mark translated it to Donghyuck, you took note of the words you were unsure of, taking out your phone to note it down. You were too busy trying to catch what Mark said to notice the fond look Donghyuck gave you, mentally noting to help you with Korean when he could.

After that day, Donghyuck always made you hot Nesquik in the evenings, and you grew used to coming home to a hot steamy mug of the delicious beverage.

—

Amidst the busy classes, being with Donghyuck felt like the calmness of the deep waters in the middle of a storm. His presence made the mountain of work piling up feel manageable and made all your stress and worries seem trivial. Donghyuck made everything bearable for you.

Throughout the semester, you constantly had to translate different your pre-reading to English and record your lectures to come back to Mark to ask him for help. Mark probably learnt more from your lectures than you did, but it helped enormously.

Mark was always patient, never growing tired of helping you. When he couldn’t translate something either, you always fell back on good old Google Translate or simply asked the professor yourself.

Some of the professors spoke fluent English, which was a huge help, and most were willing to help you as long as you showed initiative in taking charge of your own learning.

One afternoon, you returned to the dorm with a cinnamon roll in hand and your papers in the other, looking for Mark to help you.

Unfortunately, Mark was away, having been called to help tutor another of his friends. The only one at the dormitory was Donghyuck, who was busy tapping away at his laptop. Disappointed, you turned to leave to find your professor instead when Donghyuck turned, seemingly having a sixth sense for your presence.

“‘Sup,” He nodded at the papers in your hand. “Do you need help with those, or…?”

You nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, I was gonna ask Mark for help, but it seems like he’s not here, so I’m going to find one of my professors instead. Or probably one of the other students, I don’t know.”

Donghyuck waved you over to the desk, and you pulled out a chair and sat down. He hummed as he read through the sheaf of papers before handing them back to you.

“I can’t say I’m very good at English, but I’m sure we could figure it out together. Anyway, we both major in Fine Arts, so it can’t be that hard, right?”

—

That was how you and Donghyuck ended up at the shared desk in your room, huddled over papers as you groaned about terminology. You didn’t understand why dance needed such complicated terminology; if dance teachers could “hm ah one-two” their way through their classes, surely you didn’t need your major to get a job in the industry.

However, Donghyuck refused to let you give up, guiding you through the questions one by one. The pre-reading was especially difficult, but when Donghyuck let you read it aloud and helped you with words you didn’t understand, suddenly, it felt a lot easier.

It helped that the professor had plenty of visual resources, and pictures and videos helped to attract your attention. Whenever there was a video of a certain dance technique you needed to know about, you eagerly clicked on it, grateful for the reprieve it offered from the constant onslaught of words on your screen.

Somehow, just like that, the afternoon passed by rather quickly, with both of you efficiently clearing everything that you needed to by the time Mark returned with takeout for all of you.

Donghyuck reached out to help taking the containers out of the plastic bag, hissing sharply and almost dropping the container on the table. “It’s hot!”

“What were you expecting?” You asked incredulously.

He shrugged. “I thought it would have cooled down on the ride here or something.”

Mark stared at him. “My car’s heated.”

The realisation hit Donghyuck like a truck, and you couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of you at his shocked face. “Right, shit. I forgot about that.”

You were doubled over in laughter, and Renjun had to shake your shoulders roughly to get you to stop. When you could finally stand straight again, you looked Donghyuck in the eyes and snorted.

“You’re pretty dumb for someone who knew all the answers to my homework,” you told him.

“Well, you’re pretty annoying for someone who just got my help for his homework,” he retorted.

You couldn’t argue with that. You made a face, to which Donghyuck made a face back, and you harrumphed and sat down to enjoy your takeout.

You noisily slurped your noodles, some of the sauce splashing on your face. Before you could reach up to wipe it away, Donghyuck reached for your chin, pulled you towards him, and gently wiped your face clean with his thumb.

You froze, caught in his gaze. The two of you stared at each other, Donghyuck raising his eyebrows and smirking, before you finally shook your head free of his grasp and moved back, flustered. You were sure that your face was as red as a tomato, but Donghyuck only laughed.

He laughed like it was nothing, and the careless sound of his laughter mixed with the look on his face made you smile too. You couldn’t help it, his happiness was contagious, and sometimes you found that Donghyuck made your life a lot more bearable.

“I'M BORED.”

Donghyuck was sprawled out on the bed, glasses resting precariously on the tip of his nose (he’d forgotten to wear his night lenses the night before). Next to him, Renjun was sitting on the edge of his bed, studiously texting Chenle. Even Mark, the most disciplined of you all, wasn’t doing work.

The room smelled of dirty clothes and… Chinese takeout? You cast a glance over at the coffee table that you ate at, and realised that there were still empty takeout containers on the table. You quickly went to throw them away, scrunching your nose in disgust at the sheer amount of hoodies piled up on bags, the backs of the chairs, and generally strewn about messily.

“Yah, Donghyuck, come and clean up your mess.”

Donghyuck looked over at your annoyed face and quickly got up, obediently putting his clothes away and throwing the dirty ones into the hamper.

“I’m going to bring these to the laundromat, why don’t you call the others over and we’ll have a pizza party? I don’t think any of us is in the mood to do work now.”

Donghyuck nodded eagerly. “Let’s do it. Y/n, what pizza would you like?”

“Jaemin knows. Just get whatever the majority wants and we’ll share.”

“Sounds good,” Mark chimed in. “And, Y/n, can you bring this too?” He handed you a bag full of dirty clothes and you shifted the hamper over to one side so you could handle both, and Renjun helped you with the door as you shuffled out.

—

When you came back, Jaemin informed you that he had ordered pepperoni for you, since Jeno wanted some meat, and Donghyuck had gotten Hawaiian and four-cheese for the others. They had bought the largest size, so hopefully it would be enough for all of you.

When the pizza came, everyone dove in with renewed energy, the lethargic boys coming back to life as they scarfed down the food. Donghyuck reached out to take a slice of your pizza, withdrawing when he realised that there were olives on it.

“What, you don’t like—what’s the word?” You asked.

“Olives?” Mark supplied.

“Yeah, olives?”

“Nah,” Donghyuck replied. “‘M not a fan.” Yet his face betrayed him, and you could see the longing in his eyes as he watched you eat your pizza, looking down sadly at his own.

“Do you want to trade? You can pass me the olives from the pepperoni, and I’ll take your Hawaiian as long as you keep the pineapples.”

“You don’t like pineapples?” Donghyuck asked, scandalised.

“Of course not, who does?” You looked at Jaemin. “Come on, Jaem, back me up on this. Besides, fruit on pizza is such a strange concept.”

“Tomato’s a fruit,” Jisung pointed out, mouth full.

You frowned. “Don’t talk with your mouth open. But okay, fair point, I concede. Fruit on pizza isn’t weird, just pineapple on pizza.”

“Hey!” You threw Donghyuck a triumphant grin, handing him a slice of pizza with the olives plucked off, heaped on your plate. There was oil dripping from your hands and mouth, so you wiped your chin with the back of your hand and got up to wash your hands. 

“Don’t touch my pizza,” you warned.

Renjun mock-gasped. “How scary!” When you glared at him, he quickly corrected himself, “Oh, I meant, ‘wouldn’t dream of it!’”, to which you nodded approvingly in response.

—

You returned to your seat only to find Donghyuck had started a new, heated discussion, and everyone was participating actively, except for Jeno, who looked content with stuffing his mouth and just listening.

“I think it’s fine if they separate the leaves, it’s just weird if they do it while giggling and giving each other flirtatious looks,” Chenle was saying.

“But there’s no other reason to do that than to flirt!” Donghyuck cried out.

“What’s going on?” Renjun, bless his soul, explained the perilla debate to you while Donghyuck and Chenle went at each other’s throats. It turned out that the perilla debate was very simple: if your significant other helped to separate the pesky perilla leaves for your close friend to eat, was that acceptable?

You cocked your head in confusion. That was a topic up for debate? It was simple enough to leave people alone to eat, especially if they were both people you knew and trusted. If you could bring them out to eat together, what was the reason for you to prevent interaction between them? If you were that sensitive, you might as well not have invited them to eat at the same meal.

You voiced out your thoughts, but Donghyuck wasn’t having it. “It’s just dumb. Why was your significant other paying attention to the friend? They should be paying attention to you!”

You gave him a hard look. “Seriously? It’s not like you can forbid interaction between two people you love. You just think it’s weird because you’re an outrageous flirt, and in those circumstances, you would definitely be doing it with an ulterior motive.”

Chenle and Mark nodded in unison. “Face it, Hyuck, your opinion is just wrong.”

Donghyuck pouted and turned his back to you all, furiously opening up the food app on his phone and tapping away.

Jeno leaned over his shoulder to take a peek and began laughing uncontrollably, almost choking on the food in his mouth. “He’s ordering a dish with perilla leaves on it to prove his point!”

The entire room burst out into laughter, and you were so loud you heard a knocking on the door as someone told you to “shut the hell up, it’s already 10pm and some people want peace and silence.”

Subdued, the laughter died out, but wide grins remained on your faces as you watched Donghyuck in amusement, intent on proving his point and unwilling to give up until he had showed you all.

The food arrived faster than you had expected, and Donghyuck ran to the door to receive it, laying out the bowl and showing everyone the perilla leaves.

He handed Jaemin a pair of chopsticks and pointed to the dish. “Okay, Jaemin, you’re going to pretend that you can’t pick up the perilla leaves, and then I’ll swoop in and save the day.”

Jaemin immediately shook his head, vigorously expressing his disagreement. “I’m not getting dragged into this stupid shit. Jisung, take the chopsticks.”

Jisung crossed his hands over his chest, waving away the chopsticks. “Why don’t you pass it to Y/n? He’s the one who started this whole thing, after all.”

You were shoved into the seat opposite Donghyuck, a defeated sigh leaving your lips as you took the chopsticks and tried to pick up the perilla leaves with your chopsticks. You didn’t even have to fake a failed attempt to pick it up; your chopstick skills had never been good, so no matter how you tried, you couldn’t pick it up.

Seeing your genuine struggle, Donghyuck took the chance to expertly pick up the leaves and separated one piece from the rest (show-off). “Ahh,” he said, and you opened your mouth instinctively.

“Is it good?” He asked sweetly, and you nodded dumbly. It was actually pretty good, but you didn’t know why. You had never liked perilla leaves much, but maybe the way Donghyuck was looking at you or the pressurising gaze on your back made it taste a lot better than you used to think it did.

“That’s good, Y/n-ah.” He reached over to brush your hair out of your face, but it just flopped back down in front of your eyes again. He giggled, and that was your breaking point, and you broke out of character, laughing into your palm as Donghyuck shrugged as if to say, See? “I told you, it’s an intimate gesture!”

You shook your head exasperatedly. “If you say so, Lee Donghyuck.”

You went back to eating, peeling off the ham and cheese from your pizza to save for later. It was your favourite part of the pizza, so you didn’t want to waste it.

“Y/n…” Chenle’s warning tone made you look up in fear.

“Yes?”

“What in the world are you doing?”

“I just like ham and cheese,” you replied defensively. “Is there something wrong with that?”

Chenle shook his head exasperatedly. “No, just- that’s the weirdest way of eating pizza I’ve ever seen.”

“Well,” you said, licking your fingers clean, “Jaemin used to separate the gummies into flavours and pass me all the strawberry ones when he was little because he hates strawberries, so you should give me a pass for this one.”

While Jaemin tried to defend himself against your sudden jab at him, Jeno set up his computer on the table and waved everyone who was done eating over onto the bed, using his mini projector (he was a film major) to project his screen on the wall.

“What do y’all want to watch?”

“All of us are dead,” Renjun said without hesitation. You and Jisung looked at each other nervously, not being lovers of horror movies and especially hesitant because of the zombies in the series. However, you were outnumbered 6 to 2, so you settled in under the blanket and drew it up to your eyes, prepared to scream if anything scary happened.

Jisung didn’t join you, probably to hang onto whatever shreds of fragile masculinity he still had. You had thrown away all of yours because it wasn’t like you could control your fear anyway. You preferred to scream in comfort, thank you very much.

The episode started out surprisingly tame, so you lowered the blanket and leaned forward to get a better look.

Donghyuck let out a little “oof” when you rested your chin on his shoulder, but only scooted backwards so you could have a better view.

You were just starting to get absorbed in the story, thinking that maybe it wasn’t so bad after all, when one of the girls was turned into a zombie.

“Fuck!” You screamed, leaping back as the girl’s neck cracked at an unnatural angle, blood dripping from her nostrils and mouth. You cowered under the blanket that you had hurriedly pulled over your head, shuddering in fear with your hands clasped tightly over your ears.

You were still trembling when you finally decided to peek out from under the blanket, meeting Mark’s and Donghyuck’s concerned eyes with a reassuring smile.

“I'm all right, y’all. Just surprised.”

Mark snorted. As if. But he didn’t challenge you, instead asking, “Why the hell do you know fuck in Korean and not ‘delivery service’? One of them is clearly more commonly used than the other.”

“Yeah, and that’s fuck. I think you forgot that we’re all still teenage guys and male youths. Swearing is part of our vocabulary.”

“Fair enough,” Mark conceded.

Donghyuck, on the other hand, came closer to you, back pressed to the wall as he rubbed your back comfortingly. “Do you want to watch something else?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s alright. It’s actually interesting, I just get grossed out.”

Donghyuck nodded in understanding. “I'll sit beside you, and when the scary scenes show up, I'll cover your ears so you can pull the blanket over yourself. Sounds good?”

You nodded.

The episode continued, and you successfully made it three entire episodes before you got another jumpscare, and Donghyuck did as he had promised, wrapping your head tightly in a hug so you couldn't hear a single thing.

He squealed, “cute!” when you were scared and hugged you tightly. He covered your view so well you didn’t even need the blanket to hide the scene from yourself.

Donghyuck ended up hugging you for the rest of the night, and you leaned your head on his shoulder and squeezed his hands extra tightly whenever something happened, shutting your eyes when you heard any crunching sound.

Just like that, you made it through one season of “All of Us are Dead”, falling asleep past midnight with your only friends in university in your room, with someone by your side embracing you as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

—

While you were asleep, the others cleaned up the mess that they had made, throwing out the empty pizza boxes and takeout utensils, wiping the table clean and moving all clothes to one side.

The dreamies from the other room left after bidding Mark, Renjun and Donghyuck goodnight, while the remaining three in your room took turns showering in the toilet.

When Donghyuck, the last of the three, came out of the toilet towelling his hair dry, he realised that you were lying across two beds, blanket kicked off your feet.

He hung his towel up and went over to you, sighing as he placed his hands under you and tried to lift you up.

However, he forgot that you were both taller and bulkier than him, and staggered back when he tried to carry you. He rested his hands on his hips, staring down at you as the gears whirred in his mind, trying to figure out a way to move you.

Mark’s eyes flitted open, and he had a clear view of you and Donghyuck from his bed. He saw Donghyuck struggling but chose not to say a thing, waiting patiently for Donghyuck to make another move.

With a soft groan, Donghyuck hefted you into his arms and staggered around the bed before dropping you back down, in the correct position that time, on the right bed.

Luckily, you were fast asleep, so you didn’t wake up. Mark reached over to Renjun’s bed and nudged him awake, whispering, “Bet you 10,000 won that when they end up together, Donghyuck will kiss Y/n first.”

Confusion flashed over Renjun’s face before he understood. He hadn’t realised that Donghyuck was clearly interested in you, hadn’t even known that he was interested in males until Mark pointed it out. But once it had been brought to his attention, it seemed as if it had been clear all along.

“He’ll never confess aloud, I bet Y/n will have to make the first move,” Renjun countered.

“We’ll see,” Mark said. Renjun agreed, and soon the room fell silent as all four occupants drifted off into dreamland.

THE NEXT DAY WAS A SATURDAY, so everyone woke up late. By the time you opened your eyes, it was 9am, and you were the second one up. The bed beside you was Donghyuck’s, and it was empty.

Donghyuck didn’t seem like a morning person to you, so you were surprised that he had left the dormitory room so early in the morning. You blinked tiredly, hauling yourself out of bed to get breakfast. The sound of you rummaging through the mini-fridge for food must have been quite loud, because Mark woke up and stared blankly at you, eyelids drooping sleepily.

“What’re you doing?” He mumbled.

“Looking for ingredients to make breakfast with. We only have ramyeon, but I’m pretty sick of that.”

“Hyuck works at his mom’s bakery on weekends, there’s probably food there. If you’re hungry, just head over and get food from him. He’ll know what we like, and you can buy whatever you want.” With that, Mark fell back asleep before you could ask him to tell you the address.

Just then, a yellow-coloured post-it on the table caught your eye and you went over to take a look. It said in neat handwriting, “y/n, i’ve left for work. if you want to come over to café 127, you can study there and we can take the bus back to the dorms afterwards. it’s pretty close by,” and the address, signed with “yours, hyuck.”

“Huh,” you said, tucking the note into your pocket after looking up what bus to take to get there. It was only a couple of stops away, awfully convenient, and you weren’t going to give up the chance to study.

You changed into presentable clothes, grabbing a coat and your wallet before heading out of the door.

—

The café was bigger than you had expected. It was really close to the university, and located on the streets, so you couldn't possibly miss it. You loitered outside the café for a bit, debating whether to go in.

A flash of movement caught your eye, and you saw Donghyuck flitting about, taking customers’ orders.

Inhaling deeply, you squashed your nerves and calmed yourself down, going inside.

The café smelt like… Donghyuck, oddly enough. It smelt like vanilla essence and chocolate chips, and the same scent of perfume that Donghyuck probably used. You must have unconsciously associated the scent of Donghyuck with home, because entering the café felt like coming home to warmth after a long, cold day.

You grinned at Donghyuck and waved at him, taking a seat by the window. You placed your bag on the seat and went to buy yourself something, queueing in line behind two other people.

When it was your turn, your gaze flickered downwards, darting over the black, dapper uniform Donghyuck was wearing. The simple apron that bore a golden-brown logo on the right side wouldn’t have looked half as good on anyone else, not that you would admit it.

“Morning, Hyuck. I’d like…” your voice trailed off as you realised you didn’t even know what they sold. You peered into the display case, seeing fudge brownies and cinnamon rolls for sale.

Donghyuck’s mother bustled past, giving Donghyuck a few orders when she caught sight of you, stopping short in her tracks with a delighted gasp.

“You’re such a handsome man,” she told you. “You look like a prince!”

“Mum,” Donghyuck whined. “He’s my friend, you’re embarrassing me.”

Donghyuck’s mother laughed, and her mannerisms were exactly like Donghyuck’s. Her face crinkled up and her eyes disappeared into a line, and even the sound of her laughter was exactly like her son’s. Mama’s boy, you thought to yourself.

“Silly boy, of course you’re handsome too. After all, you are my son.” At that, even you broke into laughter. That must have been where Donghyuck got his confidence from. Donghyuck rolled his eyes and asked you to get on with your order.

“I’d like a cinnamon roll, please,” you decided, and paid for it. 

“You just like cinnamon rolls because you're basic,” Donghyuck teased, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“And what about it?”

Donghyuck raised both his eyebrows at your defensive tone, but he didn’t take the bait, instead handing you your change and order. “Have a nice day, prince.”

You shot him a confused look, then realised he was teasing you for what his mother had said about you. “You too, pretty boy.”

It was good that you had turned around so you couldn’t see how furiously Donghyuck blushed when you said that.

—

You wouldn't have realised that it was past noon if Donghyuck hadn’t tapped your shoulder, wrenching you out of your focused state and drawing you back into reality.

In his hands, he was clutching a muffin, which he placed in front of you along with a mug full of steaming Nesquik. “Eat first, don't be so concerned about your work,” he chided, and you rolled your eyes but thanked him anyway.

When you gratefully bit into the muffin, you felt melted cheese oozing out of it, and you pulled it away from your mouth, staring at it in amazement. You took your time, savouring every bite of the muffin. It was still warm from the oven and tasted heavenly.

You spotted a few pieces of ham inside the muffin, and realised that it was a ham-and-cheese muffin! You hadn’t seen that in the display case earlier, so perhaps Donghyuck had baked it himself.

You made a mental note to ask him about it later, returning to your work with a full stomach and heart.

—

As you got up to leave, collecting your mug and the plate to return to Donghyuck for them to wash, you realised that there was a little sticky note on the other side of the mug.

It read, "for my prince. study hard <3", and you couldn’t help the blush creeping across your cheeks. You felt your face heat up as the corners of your lips lifted up into a smile. He’s so stupidly pretty.

—

Donghyuck came home smelling like pancake batter and cinnamon rolls, which was enough to confirm that you were down horrendous for him.

When he slipped into bed, his voice was slightly husky from talking the whole day as he took down orders. “Good night, Y/n.”

Instead of answering, you rolled over to face him, asking, “Do you think I'm handsome?”

Donghyuck hesitated for only a second, but it was enough to make you nervous. Why didn’t he want to respond? Was it because he didn’t like you, or something else? Your mind conjured up endless unreasonable questions, almost going crazy with the silence that was thick with tension.

“I think you're attractive, definitely. Why, are you feeling insecure?” He asked. “I hope you know that when I saw you at the airport, my first thought was ‘Shit, my position as the visual in the group is being compromised.’ I don't think you have anything to worry about.”

You were still dissatisfied, so Donghyuck approached you as if to inspect your face, and pointed at his eyes. “I'm wearing my night lenses now, so I have 20/20 vision, and as a self-proclaimed expert, I declare you a ten out of ten. Happy?”

You laughed softly. “Yes, Hyuck. Thank you.”

Donghyuck permitted himself a small smile, reaching out to ruffle your hair. “Silly prince. Now can you go to sleep?”

You nodded. “Night, pretty boy.”

The answer came almost immediately. “Goodnight, my prince.”

IT ALL WENT DOWNHILL FROM THERE.

Ever since the realisation that maybe, just maybe, you liked Donghyuck (just a little bit), everything had gone downhill. You couldn’t do a single thing without Donghyuck at the back of your mind. If you so much as walked beside him, your mind went crazy with thoughts of him brushing his arm against yours intentionally, how close you could walk next to him without being too obvious about it, how beautiful he was when he laughed or made a joke that no one laughed at.

Your mind just couldn’t shut up. Yes, you understood that you had a silly little crush. Yes, you knew that Donghyuck was gorgeous. Yes, you were one of his best friends and therefore, saw him relatively often. No, that did not mean you needed him to occupy every. Single. One of your thoughts. You were perfectly fine without the presence of Donghyuck in every crevice of your mind, thank you very much.

However, your subconscious disagreed, and continued to torture you with thoughts of Donghyuck kissing you or brushing your hair out of your face. It was too much for you to take, especially when Donghyuck seemed oblivious to the effect he had on you.

At present, his face was slightly flushed, and sweat was beading on his forehead. He was clearly tipsy, swaying on his feet as he leaned on Renjun’s shoulder. He took Renjun’s chin and turned it towards himself, as if to kiss him.

Renjun tore himself away from Donghyuck so quickly that Donghyuck should have gotten whiplash, disgust evident on his face. “Argh, don’t kiss me!”

You felt the green monster slowly loosen its grip on your throat, slinking back in shame as you breathed in heavily. What was wrong with you? There was no reason for you to be jealous. Donghyuck was just like that, he flirted with anything that had a pulse and couldn’t confront his feelings. You knew it, and yet you didn’t want to accept it.

Stinging from his rejection and very much drunk after all the alcohol he had drunk, Donghyuck was even whinier than usual, if that was possible.

He leaned on Mark’s shoulder, and soon it became a game of “Pass the Donghyuck”, and he was shifted from one shoulder to another until he had made one round from Mark’s shoulder all the way to yours.

The weight of his head on your shoulder was refreshing. It felt like you could finally think, and the fog of your crush had lifted just enough for you to realise that the Lee Donghyuck was drunk and clinging onto your shoulder.

His glasses were slipping down his nose, and you wondered why he had even worn it in the first place. You reached up to take it off, but he shook his head vigorously. “Can’t… see without ‘em. Everything’s so… blurry.” He heaved and you stepped back quickly, afraid that he would puke all over you, but he only stumbled into your arms.

You caught him, breathing out a sigh of relief. The club was terrifyingly loud and you wanted to go home.

Empty bottles littered the counter, shot glasses teetering dangerously close to the edge. You pushed the glasses in and one toppled, and you clumsily reached out to catch it before it fell, but missed. Luckily, Mark was still sober and his reflexes were fast enough for him to catch it when it rolled off the table, falling straight into his hand like that had been its trajectory all along.

Your limbs felt as heavy as lead, a feeling not unfamiliar to you. It always felt like that after a long, tiring day of dance lessons. But the feeling was somehow… different. It felt like you had lost control of yourself and it scared you. You didn’t want to lose consciousness.

“Mark,” you called, too soft for him to hear. You were tired and it took almost all of your energy to call him again, louder that time. “Mark!”

Mark turned and his smile dropped when he saw Donghyuck and you, so drunk you might’ve passed out if it weren’t for the adrenaline rushing through your veins. You felt like you were in a limbo, halfway between wide awake and unconscious, too drunk to comprehend anything but also too excited to go to sleep.

“I want to leave this place. And I think- I think Hyuck should go home too.”

Mark looked around anxiously for the others. Jaemin was sitting in a corner of the room, clearly feeling out of place. The club was too loud for both of you. At least Chenle, Jisung, Renjun and Jeno looked like they were having fun dancing, but you remembered Renjun had looked more at home when Donghyuck was leading the conversation.

Everyone wanted to go home. You were a lightweight, and Donghyuck had simply let loose and gone crazy on the vodka, but it was enough. You needed to leave, and you recognised that. It was past 3am on a Sunday night, and you all had to go home before your classes the next morning.

Mark went to collect the rest of the dreamies, and when Chenle tried to make a fuss, Mark whispered something in his ear that pleased him greatly. Without further protest, soon all the dreamies were gathered where you were and you could leave.

You all had trouble getting out of the bar, let alone getting into the car. You, Jisung and Donghyuck were stumbling like drunkards, relying on the support of your friends to get you to walk. Jaemin held on to you tightly, gripping your elbow so hard you thought it might leave marks.

His lips were pressed into a thin line, annoyed that you had drunk so much even though your alcohol tolerance was low. It was like you were children again, and you were playing video games late into the night even though you had school the day after.

Yet, even after all those years of you making stupid decisions, he was still there for you when you came crashing down. Maybe you really were his favourite cousin, after all.

The designated drivers, Jaemin and Mark, brought three passengers into each car. You and Donghyuck were meant to be split up so there were more eyes to look after each of you, but Donghyuck grabbed hold of your wrist and refused to let go.

Jaemin let out a sigh. “Jeno, you go with them.” He was the third least intoxicated and among the strongest in your group, so he had a higher chance of being able to handle the two of you.

Jeno guided you into the seat, where you collapsed, finally making yourself comfortable. You removed your coat and draped it on the head rest, while Donghyuck snuggled into your lap.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

Donghyuck nodded. “Has anyone told you you’re really pretty?”

You laughed. “Yeah, your mum.” Donghyuck cringed, and you quickly clarified. “Donghyuck, your mother literally told me I look like a prince. I’m sorry, but you can’t top that, though I’ll give you extra points because you look cute when you’re drunk.”

Donghyuck let out a little giggle and snuggled into you. You’d forgotten how clingy he got when he was drunk. “Life is so tiring,” he told you matter-of-factly.

“I agree.” Your eyes shut and you leaned your head back, the muscles in your back relaxing.

“Shh,” Donghyuck stopped you, pressing one finger to your cheek. You assumed that he had meant to silence you and placed it against your lips, but he was so drunk that his hand-eye coordination wasn’t the best. “Don’t interrupt.”

You snorted, amused.

“As I was saying, life is really tiring. It’s tiring being this handsome, it’s tiring having a crush on my roommate and not being able to confess it because I’m a coward, it’s tiring having to work instead of staying home, and it’s tiring pretending that I’m perfect.”

“What was the middle one?”

“It’s tiring having to work?”

You raised your eyebrows sceptically. That wasn’t what you had meant, and he knew it. Sure, you were drunk and could have imagined it, but you were pretty sure Donghyuck had just confessed that he liked one of you. And since he only had three roommates, you had a 33.3% chance of being the one he liked.

The odds were good, but not entirely in your favour.

Donghyuck’s forehead was sweaty and his hair was sticking to his face, so you gently brushed it out of his face, and he gripped your wrist so tightly you questioned if he was indeed drunk. If he were sober surely he wouldn’t have had that strength, but he definitely had the guts when he was tipsy.

He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, and your heart shattered inside.

Honestly, you would have been happy if he was sober. Perhaps then everything would be truthful and genuine and not the manifestation of sober thoughts, but a conscious choice. Because drunk decisions did not mean that Donghyuck would have done the same if he had been sober. You knew that he probably would not have, and that hurt deeper than you would care to admit.

Donghyuck was so oblivious to the effect he had on you. He could be making you go crazy inwardly and not care, but the moment he was drunk, he had the audacity to flirt with you. He had no care for your feelings at all, and you hated it.

If only he would really, truly love you, consciously and deliberately so you would never have to reassure your insecure thoughts. And that was something that you hated Donghyuck for, that he never wanted to commit and instead flirted with everyone like that would make him feel any better.

It wouldn’t, and you knew that all too well.

—

“Spin the bottle! Spin the bottle!”

You, as well as the others, were eagerly chanting as Donghyuck looked sceptically at the bottle. The table surface was rough, and the sound of the bottle spinning grated on his nerves, but he wanted to be a good sport.

He spun the bottle, biting his lip as he rolled his eyes back, and they landed on you. You could have sworn he winked, but you had no time to process it, not when your friends were cheering so loudly.

Shit. It had landed on you.

Donghyuck didn’t hesitate, leaning in towards you and tipping your chin up. He saw the reluctance in your eyes and stopped, resting on his heels.

“Are you okay with this? If you don't want to, we can stop it now,” he said, loud enough for your ears alone.

You gulped. “I'm… I think I'm fine.”

He grinned. “Then kiss me back, okay?”

And his lips were on yours. He tasted like cherry vodka and sprite and cinnamon all at once, and you didn’t know you had it in you to kiss him back.

When he pulled away, you missed it almost immediately.

“This isn’t any fun. Let’s play truth or dare instead,” he said abruptly, averting his eyes. Unlike when he had kissed Renjun, he didn't wipe his lips, and it took all of your self-control not to read into that.

You made yourself comfortable and reached for another glass but Jisung tapped your hand twice. “I think you’ve had quite enough.”

The thing was, you couldn't help it. If you didn’t have enough alcohol in your system, you would have the sobriety to overthink every single little thing Donghyuck did, and you needed a drink (or several) to remain sane.

Jisung gave you a long, hard look and an accompanying sigh when you brushed him off, but he remained silent when you poured yourself another glass and downed it, the clear liquid burning its way down your throat and lighting you up from within.

“Truth,” you heard Donghyuck say.

“Do you love him? Not just infatuation-wise. Do you see yourself in a relationship with him?” Mark.

“Dare.”

“Answer the question.”

“I-” The hesitation was enough for you to be interested in the conversation again. If Donghyuck had given his usual lighthearted response, you would have thought nothing of it. But for him to stop and actually seriously think about it… whoever he liked must have really made an impact on him.

You reached for the bottle again. This time, it was Jeno who stopped you. “It’s quite enough. Your cheeks are red, and you can barely keep your eyes open. I don't want you to get liver failure from one night out, or we’ll never be allowed to bring you out again.”

You pouted your lips at him, and Donghyuck spoke again. “Yes, I think I do.”

It was a pity that you had forgotten the question by then. It was also a pity that your eyes were barely open, for if they were open you would have seen Donghyuck’s fond look and how his eyes crinkled up when he looked at you.

—

When Mark turned around to get you out of the car, he found both you and Donghyuck asleep. 

YOU JUST COULDN'T ESCAPE HIM. It wasn’t until you were consciously avoiding Donghyuck that you realised how often you saw him. Your dance classes never collided, but many of your lectures did. Sometimes, you would see him entering the lecture theatre and would studiously look away so he wouldn’t notice you were there. Not that it worked much, but on some days, he was a little more aware and would walk past you to sit with his other friends.

You were in the library that afternoon, headphones in, Mark and Renjun sitting opposite you. Everyone was quietly doing their own work, and whenever you looked up from your work, it was only to ask Mark a question.

Renjun was actually done with his own work, because unlike Mark, who always volunteered to take on extra tasks, he had a perfectly reasonable workload. And unlike Donghyuck, who signed up for social events even when his pre-reading was piling up, he was disciplined and knew how to prioritise. And unlike you, he actually understood everything that the professor was saying.

So, really he was only there to keep you two accountable and to make sure you didn’t get off track. He was reading a book, and you guessed that the unfamiliar characters on the cover were in Mandarin.

It was peaceful, at least until Donghyuck came.

“I brought you a ham-and-cheese muffin,” he said, setting the paper bag down as he slid into the seat beside you. “I got you boba too, but the librarian didn’t like that, so I left it in my bag outside. I had to convince her that I wouldn’t eat the muffin inside, but I’ll let you know that it’s still warm, so you can make your own decision.”

He winked at you, and your heart fluttered. Be still, my heart.

You bit into the muffin, and the flavours exploded in your mouth as you realised how long it had been since your last meal. You hadn’t had proper lunch that day, just brunch at 10, so 6 hours had passed since you last ate. You had forgotten this whilst studying, but your stomach gladly welcomed the presence of more food.

“You haven’t eaten since brunch, have you?” Donghyuck asked, as he saw you stuffing the rest of the muffin into your mouth. You shook your head guiltily, trying to catch the crumbs falling from your mouth.

“Chew slowly, don't choke. I’ve still got boba for you later, remember.”

And your heart warmed despite your vow not to let Donghyuck charm his way into your heart anymore. “Thanks,” you mumbled, voice muffled by the food in your mouth. You swallowed it quickly, but by then he had already turned away from you.

—

“Wait, don't you have a class in five minutes?”

It took you a couple of seconds to process that Mark was talking to you. You looked down at your watch and found that he was indeed correct. “Shit, yeah. Hyuck, isn’t that the class we both take?”

Donghyuck’s neck jerked up so quickly you feared he might break it. “You're right! We’ve gotta run for it. See you later, Mark, Renjun.”

He was out of his chair before you could say anything else, pulling you away as you ran outside. Donghyuck slung his bag over his shoulder, and you ran out into the cold with Donghyuck by your side. It was freezing cold and your lips turned numb almost immediately. The snow was heavier than you had realised, and you sorely missed the comfort of the heated library.

You were huddled closely to Donghyuck, pressed up against him as your legs moved in tandem, generating heat that you were grateful for.

“Wait,” you said, grabbing Donghyuck’s hand to stop him just before you entered the building. “Look!”

Like a child, you stuck out your tongue and waited for a snowflake to fall onto your tongue, shivering slightly when it did and melted almost immediately. You looked at Donghyuck, embarrassment warring with the need for attention, and were met with Donghyuck’s chuckle.

“Cute.”

It was one word, but it felt full of fraught emotions and possibilities.

—

You sighed in relief, collapsing in a tired heap on the chair, your cheeks and the tips of your ears still red from the cold atmosphere outside. Donghyuck noticed, of course. He reached out and cupped your ear in his hands, his palms radiating heat that made your ears feel less like frozen popsicles and more like a part of your body again.

“If I kissed you, your cheeks would definitely warm up too,” he said suddenly. You would have protested, but you weren’t fast enough to prevent him from placing a kiss on your cheek, which immediately warmed up in embarrassment.

“See! It worked.” You didn’t admit it aloud, but you agreed.

Donghyuck’s kiss was a reminder of what you had been thinking when you first arrived in Seoul. You had thought then that Seoul was nowhere as romantic as London, because you couldn't share an umbrella with your love interest in the rain and get soaked together.

But when you looked down at your coat, slightly wet with melted snow, and pressed a hand to your cheek where Donghyuck had kissed it, you realised that maybe Seoul was more romantic than you had given it credit for being. You had been too quick to judge and were lucky that you hadn’t said it aloud, or you would be eating your words.

—

You were starting to get bored and your fingers hurt from typing. At least you understood most of what was happening, but you were still starting to tire of the professor’s voice. The next time you would be doing anything interesting was in a month, and you didn’t understand how you were expected to pay attention until then.

You were really only paying attention so that you didn’t fail when you had to write your thesis next week, but even you needed a break.

Donghyuck must have read your mind because he pushed a reusable covered cup over to your table, pointing at the attached note. Through the clear container you could see the boba at the bottom, brown sugar coating the sides. You poked the straw through the hole in the cap and gratefully drank it, happy for the explosive taste of sugar in your mouth that distracted you from the boredom of the class.

A note fluttered onto your table and you picked it up in curiosity. “are you a prince (왕자; wangja)? because i want ya.”

That was when your heart stopped. Donghyuck didn’t speak English well, and you knew that. You had spent enough time with him to see how he struggled to understand you when you spoke with an English accent instead of a Korean one. Yet, he had written you a pickup line in Konglish.

What does that mean? He had to have asked Mark about it. He must have premeditated it because there was no way he had spontaneously come up with that while waiting in line for your drink.

What does that mean? The mixed signals he was sending you were about to drive you crazy. You were overthinking every detail of it, and you hated it. Why had he put in the effort to write something you were familiar with? A line you would understand and be able to laugh at? Was he hinting at something more, or did he just do that to everyone?

What does that mean? The question was running laps in your mind, as it had been since Donghyuck had kissed you at the bar. You had both been flat-out drunk, so you wouldn’t have been surprised, but he didn’t seem to want to talk about it.

Maybe that was the problem; the lack of communication. It was hindering the relationship from progressing and causing your heart extreme emotional pain. Perhaps it was time for you to do something about it.

DONGHYUCK WAS THE WORST TEASE YOU KNEW. He exited the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, hair still dripping wet as he ran a hand absently through it, wiping his hand on the towel.

Your heart was beating so fast that you were sure you would need someone to call an ambulance if you didn’t stop hyperventilating.

Fortunately (or unfortunately) for you, Donghyuck seemed to notice.

He walked up to you in one fluid motion, wrapping one arm around your waist as his other hand tipped your chin up. His cockiness was getting to you, and you simply couldn’t stand him anymore. You threaded your fingers through his hair, bringing his face closer to you as you kissed him.

The hand around your waist slackened in shock, and his eyes were still wide with surprise at your boldness. But you didn’t care, and when you didn’t pull away, he gladly closed his eyes and deepened the kiss.

Your clothes were wet, and so was the floor, but you couldn’t care less because you were kissing the Lee Donghyuck, prettiest boy in the universe. The one who spent a week trying to get your beverage order right and clung tightly to you when he was drunk, the one who took every opportunity to flirt with you but softened when you were scared or tired.

He called you a prince just to rile you up and pecked your cheek when you were within range, and you loved him more than just a little bit.

“You like me?” Donghyuck asked in disbelief when you pulled away.

You traced your hand over his jaw and pressed your forehead to his. “I hate pineapple on pizza, but I’d eat Hawaiian pizza if you asked me to because you’re Donghyuck, and I’d do anything for you. I would eat your olives if you gave them to me, always. I don’t know how you haven’t noticed yet, but yes, I like you, Lee Donghyuck.”

He was rendered speechless, which were two words you would never have thought would be used to describe Donghyuck. The chatty boy had fallen silent, and you found that you missed the sound of his voice.

“I like you too, L/n Y/n. I would run with you in the snow if it meant five more minutes with you. Even if my fingertips were freezing off, I would watch you catch snowflakes on your tongue and wish you loved me back. I would kiss you while drunk a million times if it meant there was the smallest of chances that you would love me back.”

The sound of the door opening didn’t stop you, but it did stop Renjun. He hovered in the corridor as he looked between you and a towel-clad Donghyuck, debating whether to tell him to stop dripping all over the floor or leave you two alone. After a few seconds, he decided to take refuge in Jaemin’s room, leaving you two to your own devices.

Donghyuck would have stayed and held you in his arms forever if you hadn’t tapped his shoulder and asked him to get changed.

“Why feign decency at this point?” He had quipped, and you had grabbed hold of his shoulders, turning him around to face the bathroom and shoving him towards it. He had stumbled, catching himself just in time to flip you off, and you settled on the floor, laughing as he disappeared into the bathroom.

—

When he reappeared, he was so eager to see you again that he slammed into you, causing you to topple onto the bed, Donghyuck’s hands on either side of your head being the only thing preventing him from falling onto you,

You booped him on the nose and burst out into laughter at his confused face. Your laughter rang true and clear in the room, and if Donghyuck had a photographic memory, he would have replayed it in his head a million times. His eyes were filled with delight and love as he watched you slowly lowering himself next to you while you rolled over to face him.

His hand traced lazy circles down your arms, from your biceps down to your elbows, where he began drawing hearts around the scattered scars that covered your elbows.

“Tell me all about your scars.”

You had gotten that one from falling down as a kid, eager legs slipping out from under you when you forgot that you had rollerblades on, landing on your elbows and knees. Sure, you had worn elbow guards, but they had been too loose for you back then, the hand-me-downs slipping downwards as your elbows scraped against the pavement.

You remembered staring at your arms in wonder, the scraped skin stinging but not hurting enough for you to cry. You had winced at the dirt and blood covering the wound, dusting yourself off as you stood up. You had cried when your mother cleaned the wound with saline, wincing sharply and then jerking your arms away while she held tight, cleansing the wound, until you realised she was only trying to help you.

Perhaps that was what love was like. Sometimes, you didn’t realise it was for your benefit until someone else guided you to it, and you ignored what was staring right at you until it waved its hand.

Donghyuck listened. He didn’t speak, and the silence was oddly inviting. The words spilled out of your mouth like a torrent, not a second of hesitation keeping you from being vulnerable with him.

It was the same for Donghyuck.

You heard of the times he felt overshadowed and overlooked, when his older brother knew how to do everything and his younger sister followed in his footsteps. He constantly compared himself to them and others around him, never feeling like he was enough.

You heard of the times with Mark, his first friend, who used to hate him. Donghyuck had reached out multiple times to Mark, and each time he was met with coldness and annoyance. He had only ever heard Mark give monosyllabic responses and had been surprised when he had first heard Mark say a full sentence.

Yet, Donghyuck could grow on anyone. And soon, they graduated high school together, headed to the same university where they would pursue their interests while their friendship only grew stronger.

You heard about Donghyuck’s experience at parties, waking up in somebody else’s bed, hammered with a pounding headache and utterly lost. He told you how he had sorely regretted all the drinks, hurriedly getting out of bed to get as far away from the memories as possible.

Once, he was almost taken advantage of. He had woken up in a bed with a girl by his side, ill-clad with her gangly limbs all over his body. He should have at least known her name, but he didn’t even recognise her face. When he tried to peel her off of him and get dressed, she forced herself on him, and it had taken all of his drunken strength to get away.

He didn’t need to be drunk to tell you stories, because he could consciously decide to be open with you, even while sober. You didn’t either, but you were glad that you no longer needed alcohol to stop you from falling head over heels for Lee Donghyuck.

After all, he was there to stay.

RENJUN'S HUSHED WHISPERS SOUNDED URGENT even to you, causing you to open your eyes even when you wanted to seal them shut and fall back asleep.

“Good morning,” you cooed, placing kisses on each of Donghyuck’s moles. He blinked his eyes open sleepily and stared at you through half-closed eyelids before shutting them again and snuggling in closer to you.

“It’s too fucking early to be awake, go back to sleep.” Donghyuck said as he slid his cold fingers under your shirt, wrapping them around your torso as he hummed to himself. “You’re so warm…”

You shivered at his touch, jerking back in shock. Donghyuck whined softly and continued nuzzling his head against you, and you relented, moving in closer towards him while he smiled against your neck.

You caught snippets of Renjun’s conversation with Mark, hearing words like “half-naked”, “still dripping”, and “couldn’t even come in to sleep”. It didn’t take a genius to guess that they were talking about you, and the unabashed excitement on Mark’s face confirmed it for you.

You pried Donghyuck’s fingers from your skin, pushing his head away while he murmured in protest, flinging the covers off of you.

“Argh!”

“Sorry, Hyuckie.” You quickly grabbed the blanket and tucked Donghyuck back in, and he frowned at the absence of your heat, turning away from you sulkily and curling up into a ball. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, brushing his hair out of his face, gravitating towards Renjun’s conversation as it got clearer and easier to understand.

“Are you talking about me?” You asked, and Renjun almost leapt from his chair in shock. His mouth was comically open, and his eyes were wide in surprise.

“When did you wake up?”

“Just,” you assured him, taking your seat and resting your head in your hands. “So, what about me?”

“We made a bet,” Mark said, a little too quick to throw Renjun under the bus. “We wanted to guess who would make the first move. I said Donghyuck would because of his personality, but Renjun said he was too much of a coward to really do anything about it.”

“Technically, you’re both right. Hyuck did make the first move, but I kissed him first, so I think I deserve some of that credit too.”

Renjun’s head bobbed up and down so quickly you were afraid his neck might break off. “Y/n’s right. Since he kissed Donghyuck first, you owe me. 10,000 won, remember?”

Mark’s mouth opened and closed as he stared at you, flabbergasted, before he finally gave up on trying to form words and reached into his pocket instead.

As Renjun counted the money, Mark fixed you with a hard stare. “If I’m broke, you’re paying for the next meal.”

“Deal."

—

Donghyuck left the house wrapped up in thoughts of your mouth on his. He couldn’t believe that someone like you would like someone like him. It had, quite literally, never occurred to him that you might like him back.

From the first time he had set eyes on you that winter evening, seeing you next to Jaemin and the resemblance in both of your eyes and hearing your English-accented voice for the first time, he had loved you more than he should have.

He grew to like all of you, the parts of you that drank Nesquik (like a little kid) when you were tired, that craved boba but held back from buying it because it was “unhealthy”, the parts of you that hated pineapple on pizza and thought he was an idiot. He loved when you were scared of the most trivial things, only to do risky shit when you thought no one was looking.

Most importantly, he loved the way you smiled with all your heart, your mouth open wide and your lips stretched wider than he thought was physically possible. Joy was written in the crease of your smile and the folds of your skin, and he loved every part of you.

He loved you so much, in fact, that when he reached into his pocket to send you a text to tell you he missed you, he realised that he had forgotten his phone amidst the residual shock he had woken up in that morning.

When he heard his name, he whirled around at the familiar voice and saw his saviour running toward him with a Tupperware in one hand and his phone in the other, hair sticking up in all different directions, still wearing pyjama pants.

“Y/n,” he breathed out. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?”

You ran your hand through your hair in response, shoving his phone into his hand.

“I… saw that Mark had cut some fruits for Chenle, and I know that you’re bad at taking care of yourself so… I brought it for you. Don’t worry, I’ll cut more for Chenle later, he’ll just have to deal with not having them in his favourite container.” The words came out all in a rush, between pants and wheezes. Running clearly wasn’t your speciality.

“I wasn’t worried,” Donghyuck said. “And thank you.”

“Someone’s got to love you right, even if that means reminding you that your body requires nutrients to survive,” you muttered, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Is that so?” You nodded sagely, and he laughed, and somewhere in your mind, you managed to conjure up the word pretty.

DONGHYUCK WAS SO COCKY. You had always known it, but seeing him leaning languidly against the opening to the small photo booth, curly hair falling into his eyes, peering through his lashes as he watched your every movement, you were reminded of it.

Each of the eight of you were clutching your graduation hats, Jaemin, Jeno, Renjun and Jisung hovering outside the photo booth while they waited for you to browse through the frames.

Everyone was dressed in their graduation gowns, having rushed to take a picture at the nearby mall the second you had all received your diplomas. Chenle had insisted that four-cut photos were a tradition, and you didn’t want to miss out on the chance to take more photos.

After taking the goofiest photos ever (Jaemin had had lots of fun posing, and you had a bruise on your hip from falling into the “door” frame), the gang decided to let you and Chenle pick a frame and print it out.

“Quickly,” Jaemin’s voice called. “Y/n, what exactly are you doing? It doesn’t take that long to click an option!”

Mark left you and Chenle to choose, going outside the photo booth to pacify Jaemin.

Finally, you and Chenle managed to agree on an option that both of you liked, and the machine began whirring as it spat out the eight copies. You snatched them from Chenle, whistling as you exited the photo booth, waving the photos triumphantly at the rest.

“Done!”

All of a sudden, Donghyuck started cooing, “Aww, you want to kiss me so bad.” Before you knew what he was talking about, he tiptoed to reach your lips and gave you a quick peck.

“What?” The realisation dawned on you a moment later, remembering how you had puckered your lips while whistling. Donghyuck, ever the opportunist, had obviously taken the chance to kiss you again. “Hyuck, you kissed me. I don’t think I’m the desperate one here.”

Donghyuck would have responded if Renjun and Chenle’s hands hadn’t appeared out of nowhere, shoving you into the photo booth. The last thing you saw before they drew the curtains shut was Jaemin with his arms crossed over his chest, smirking at you.

“Guess we’re stuck together, then.” Donghyuck didn’t seem thrown off in the least, quietly clicking through the options before he settled on one. The timer beeped, and you followed Donghyuck’s lead to make a heart.

You posed a total of three times before Donghyuck ran out of ideas, and he stared at you as the countdown grew louder. Three, two, one…

“Kiss me back, Hyuckie,” you murmured as you tilted Donghyuck’s chin up to meet yours. The light flashed, and you reluctantly pulled away to check the results. The pictures turned out adorable, and you slipped it into your wallet and grinned at Donghyuck.

“You stole my line!”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Well, you were wrong about the perilla debate, so I think it evens out.”

“What do you mean? We’re together now, aren’t we? Therefore, it must have been because I separated the perilla leaves for you that one time, which makes my stand the correct one.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway because neither of us were in a relationship at the time,” you reminded him. Renjun and Jeno heard only the tail-end of your conversation as you exited the confined space, and they sighed tiredly.

Seeing their reactions, you couldn’t help but laugh. You loved Lee Donghyuck so fucking much.

- fin -

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