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dadsbongos · 2 years ago

Text

my type?

4.3 K words

summary - Yuuji Itadori is a total knockout boyfriend - the only hitch? You’re nothing like his usual type of woman, and it’s making you unsure.

warnings - 18+!, femreader with jugs and vagene, p in v sex, unrealistic car sex, specifically stated that reader is non-tall with big tits, dumbification for both parties, squirting, non-curse AU where sukuna and yuuji are brother-roommates, unprotected sex

Itadori, Yuuji was an amazing boyfriend - something straight out of a top-selling shoujo manga.

Faithful and doting and affectionate. He handed over his hoodies the moment you mentioned an unpleasant breeze, he proudly held your hand in public, and he boasted about the very act of dating you to anyone with ears. But even those displays felt backhanded, the deeper you dug into your own mind. You had no real reason to complain about the situation.

And you especially had no reason when the cause behind your complaints would be so shallow.

You had an ass in the same way that everybody else did, but nothing comparable to the pin-up poster Yuuji tore down when you two started dating. Or his celebrity fascination, Jennifer Lawrence (which also mysteriously stopped being mentioned when you two started dating).

Rather, your body was much more endowed in ways that made Nobara tease as you passed lingerie stores with hot pink lighting and black walls and heavy busts plastered in the windows. She’d snag you by the sleeve and point, just to watch how you scoff and look away.

Yuuji pointedly ignores those stores. He ignores everything in relation to them.

You’d picked this shirt just for tonight. It dips low into your cleavage, just tight enough to still push up the tender meat of your breasts. Not to mention the color - deep crimson, Yuuji’s favorite. Well, at least the closest you’ll ever get to a favorite color with his indecisive nature.

Yuuji sits across from you at the scratched table. When his eyes aren’t scavenging the conveyor belt for small, shiny, colored plates serving anything that may catch his eye, they’re on your face. And only your face.

Normally something you’d absolutely cheer over - if this were a first date, but the fact is that this is one of many dates. And after so many dates that you can’t count anymore, you’re starting to want Yuuji’s eyes to drift.

You want him to look and you want to watch him sweat and go red. You’re starting to need it.

The need only grows more apparent mere days later.

Yuuji keeps his hands stubbornly on your hips, barely making an imprint from outside your clothes. But you choose not to make a fuss since he’s otherwise fully engrossed with keeping his lips pasted to yours. Your hands are sweaty and hot on Yuuji’s cheeks, you just know they are, but he doesn’t seem to mind when he lets you hold him close and grind on him.

Yet his palms are stiff against you. They don’t feel warm or cold or clammy or moist. They just… are. He chokes back every groan and huff and you almost feel embarrassed to be letting out hitches and breathy moans so freely in comparison.

Puffing your chest out, you can feel your breasts pillowing against Yuuji and you’re hoping to tempt him to move his hands up. Under your shirt and bra with bare skin on bare skin. The idea makes you mewl, dragging your hips harder against his and further pushing out your tits for him to grope.

And suddenly, his stiff hands are picking you up off his lap, sliding you beside him on your couch. Yuuji grins, standing and swiping his hands down the legs of his sweatpants before planting a kiss on your forehead, “Sorry, gotta pee.”

“Oversharing!” you call after his retreating form.

When Yuuji returns, he sits down and rewinds the movie you two had put on earlier. He frowns and murmurs about how much the both of you missed. When you don’t turn back to the TV immediately, Yuuji smiles again and kisses your cheek.

Your gut twists unpleasantly.

And that need festers into utter desperation by just the next afternoon.

“Hey, Yuuji,” you come up from behind your boyfriend, arms dangling over the back of his couch and framing his shoulders. You place your chin on his head, staring at the intense cooking competition he’s watching, “So, I know I just got here… but! I’ve got a small, teensy errand to run.”

“Mhm?” he tilts his head back to meet your eyes, “Want me to go with you?”

His offer has you nodding, trying to smother down the bright simper he threatens to drag out of you, “Yeah, if you’re not busy.”

Sucking in air noisily through his teeth, Yuuji gestures out to the show he lazes in front of, “I dunno, babe, I am watching TV.”

“Very funny,” you back away from his couch, already heading to the door to tug your shoes on, “Just saying, you don’t have to come with if you don’t want to,” Yuuji always wants to come with, you like that about him, “Just getting some new bras.”

Your current ones are fine, but maybe a stuffy changing room is that nudge he needs.

“Oh,” your boyfriend pauses, eyes widening, “Uh. You might want to take Kugisaki for that, she’d know more than me,” he can’t even look at you, “I’m not really the kinda person you’d want around for that.”

You almost ask what he means by that, but the rejection has fried your brain to a gray, crunchy crisp. The kind of fry that looks like it could flake apart with a harsh jab. Again, that terrible, awful knotting in your stomach returns, but you carry on. Because if you claimed to no longer need this errand ran, then he might know what your scheme was - and that was far worse than whatever this hell was.

So you nod slowly and meekly call out that you love him before exiting the door. He says he loves you more.

You really wish you asked what he meant.

Finally, desperation comes to a head when you meet Yuuji’s friend - Todo, Aoi.

Todo, Aoi, who stares at you - eyes narrow as he judges each wrinkle in your clothes and jitter of your muscles - then turns to Yuuji, and asks point-blank, “Did you lie about your type, then, brother?”

Yuuji rips the hand in his pocket out and cuts it across his neck in a slicing motion, mouthing a couple of rude ‘shut up’s. You lean into Yuuji’s side, squeezing the hand he lays in yours tighter. It isn’t sweaty. And it isn’t very warm, either.

Aoi doesn’t seem very upset at the idea, “I’m happy you’re happy,” you look down at your shoes when he glances back over at you, “I was excited when I thought we had the same type.”

No, you weren’t very tall. And no, your butt wasn’t exceptionally big. You fell on the more mediocre sides of those categories, the thing you excelled in (what you thought most guys were thrilled over) was having a large bust.

“Dude!” Yuuji hits Aoi in the shoulder. Hard, “Shut up!”

He squeezes your hand so tight you think it might bruise.

“Sorry, brother,” Aoi, you were warned, was extremely unusual - little to no boundaries and almost inept at social interactions outside of fighting. He does seem sympathetic enough, turning to you, “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

It’s all so sickening. How you wish Yuuji would hurry up and show interest in shallow things. How you place personal esteem on this whole fiasco. How right Aoi is. How badly you’re letting everything affect you.

The ringing in your ears, for example. The way you no longer think you can stomach whatever Aoi was cooking tonight. The shortness of your breath.

You try to push it down. Tonight is supposed to be fun.

Yuuji shoves his friend, much more lightheartedly than his previous blow, and goes to kiss your forehead - but hesitates. His smile is uneven, “Don’t listen to him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” he squeezes your hand, “I love you,” then, apologetically, he smooths his thumb over the sore spots where he clenched your hand, “I love you so much.”

And you know that. You know it like you know your favorite movie.

Tonight was supposed to be fun.

He loves you, you know that - what you don’t know, is if he wants you. Doesn’t he get sweaty palms like you? Doesn’t he feel his intestines tie into bunches of little knots like you? Doesn’t he get all hot in the face like you? Doesn’t he want you like you want him?

It’s humiliating to imagine that he doesn’t, and the mere idea makes you so nauseous you think you might hurl at this very moment.

Maybe your boyfriend just doesn’t find you as attractive as you want him to.

Maybe you should give up this repetitive scheme.

The car is quiet, unbearably so. Your knees are angled away from Yuuji defiantly, legs pushed to the far side of your seat so it’d be a hassle for him to reach out and hold your thigh. You used to think it meant something when he did that, but now it seems as though he’s doing it out of duty. Like holding the door for someone behind you. Or offering your seat on the bus to elderly passengers. Simple acts of simple kindness.

The most basic peacekeeping, if anything.

Yuuji peeks at you without turning away from the road, hands tightening around the steering wheel, “Are you upset?”

You could be snippy. You could even opt to not respond.

But you do neither, “Yeah.”

He sighs through his nose, “Seriously, don’t listen to Todo. He doesn’t know anything.”

Now, you’re a little snippy. To point out that Aoi’s being stupid isn’t uncalled for, but to claim he doesn’t know exactly what stupid shit he’s saying is.

“He has a point.”

“Huh?” Yuuji turns his head fully to look at you, something he only does because the quiet backroad home is empty, “What’re you talking about?”

Only flickering, crooked, rusty street lamps are witness to your impending breakdown. Your boyfriend returns his stare to the road. Crickets sing outside and the wind flattens over long grass that shines under moonlight.

“Yuuji,” sinking into your seat, you ignore his eyes, “You can’t seriously say you have no idea,” he’s quiet, lips pressed thinly, “Since we met, practically everybody has known your type. I knew you had a type! It was a shock to our friends when we got together! And now that we are…”

Pulling off into the grassy plain lining your way home, Yuuji slips the key from the ignition and unclicks his seatbelt to really examine you. His eyes scramble over you, every part the sensitive, concerned boyfriend you know and treasure. He pouts, but it’s in earnest; hurt simply because you’re hurt.

“And now that we are?”

“Why don’t you look at me?”

“I look at you!” he rubs the back of his neck, now quirking a brow at you, “I look at you all the time.”

“No,” you whine like a petulant child, hands coming up to cover your face, “It’s different!”

Aoi’s words just won’t stop creeping up your spine. Yuuji setting you aside on the couch. Yuuji insisting that you bring Nobara to a lingerie store instead of him. He was lying to someone, right? Was it to Aoi or you?

But everybody had seen that poster, and everybody could hear him declare his preferences.

“It’s way different,” you’re so humiliated you’re nauseous, your voice wobbles.

Yuuji tenderly takes your wrists, dragging down your hands. His smile is squiggly, brows high to his forehead, “Talk to me, pretty girl. You want me to look at you?” you nod, “So tell me what you mean by that.”

You almost hate how soft his voice is. It makes it so hard to be upset.

“I’m not your type,” your eyes trail the way Yuuji’s fingers dance around yours, “And every time I try to… you know, get you to think of me as something other than just cute or pretty - you turn me down. I feel like you don’t find me attractive.”

“Oh, like sexually?”

“Mhmm,” you nod glumly. When he’s quiet for just a couple of seconds too long, you ask, “Did you know what I was trying to do?”

“Kind of,” Yuuji’s cheeks are growing red, eyes now abandoning your entwined hands to stare out the windshield, “I do find you attractive - that’s a little bit of the problem.”

“What?”

He sucks in a breath sharply, engulfing your hands completely with his and squeezing (much more mindfully this time), “I’m crazy about you,” he can tell you don’t believe him, “It scares me a little,” he pulls his hands away and cradles his own over his lap, “I’m worried that if I give in, I’ll scare you off… like I’m too eager or something.”

“Yuuji!” you adjust in your seat, moving sideways and finally letting your knees face your boyfriend again, “You wouldn’t scare me off by being eager about my body! That’s a good thing, right? When we’re both into each other, that’s good!”

“No, I mean,” he’s gone rouge all the way up to his ears now, a fire bright in his chest, “I want you so bad it makes me feel like all my skin’s burning. My hands get all gross and sweaty so I have to wipe them on my pants, and- and I can’t think straight,” he’s still not looking at you, but the way he’s pressing his arms down on his crotch tells you he wants to, “Even now, I think I’m going crazy just imagining you…”

You sit up on your knees, leaning over the center console just to watch your boy squirm at the invasion of space, “Imagining me?” he nods shakily, “Imagining me how?”

He whines, turning his head and pressing his scorching face into your neck, “You know how.”

“Come on, pretty boy,” you kneel over the console entirely, squeezing behind the wheel to settle on Yuuji’s lap - slapping away his hands from the growing tent in his baggy pants, “Entertain me, please?”

“Imagining you under me, on me, between my legs,” his hands fly to your hips, palms slipping up under your shirt, and, God, his palms are sweaty, “Any way you’ll have me,” you cup his cheeks and press messy kisses to his lips. Yuuji’s hands roam further up your shirt, fingertips teasing under the cups of your bra, “Any way I can see your tits.”

“I thought you were more into ass,” your bravado falls under his admission, suddenly bashful.

Yuuji closes his eyes, swallowing hard while pushing his hands under your bra, he can feel his heartbeat all the way at the back of his throat. His rough palms cupping the soft, fleshy fat on your chest, “As if that matters,” his brows knit, hips subconsciously jerking up into yours, “I’m a horny guy: my hot girlfriend has big boobs, and I’m obsessed with her big boobs.”

“Just ‘cuz you’re horny?” you tease, grinding down on the bump of his hard cock. His loose pants let him spring up under your skirt, knocking into your panty-clad cunt.

“Nah,” his eyes flutter open, sweaty palms moving around your back and clumsily unhooking your troublesome bra. It takes him three tries, “I like every part of you all the time…” the tip of his tongue parts his lips in hard concentration, “Your whole body makes me feel like I’m full of bugs.”

“‘Full of bugs?!’” you snort, lifting your arms so Yuuji can yank off your shirt and bra in one ungraceful motion.

“In a good way,” he promises, eyes locked on your heaving chest. You can hear the thick breaths he struggles through, “‘m so nervous and horny at the same time, it feels like bugs in my stomach.”

“What’re you nervous for?”

“‘Cuz I wanna make you cum, but I’m worried I’ll cream my pants before we even get to it,” he finally looks into your eyes, he smiles at you with flaming cheeks and palms at your breasts, “It was so hard making sure I kept it together… Been jerkin’ off every night thinking of you - ask Sukuna, he’ll tell you. It’s been embarrassing.”

“Augh, Yuuji!”

“It’s true!”

It makes your palms hot and sweaty, the image of him so desperate. All for you.

“Hm,” you croon, grinding against your boyfriend’s cock, back arching to press your tits closer to his face, “Yuuji...”

Wrapping his arms around your waist, Yuuji sucks one of your nipples between his lips and laves it with his tongue. He bucks up against your wetting panties. Pulling away from your nipple with a soft pop, Yuuji stares up at you with another earnest, flustered pout, “Can you take it out for me?”

As if you could forget what he’s talking about, he humps you again.

“Please, take it out,” he cranes his neck to run his warm, wet tongue over your other, unattended nipple.

“Aw,” you didn’t think seeing your big, energetic boyfriend act so pathetic would set you on fire the way it does. One of your hands stretches down between you and Yuuji, wrangling down his pants with him lifting his hips to help, “Do you want me to play with your cock?”

He hums against your breast, nodding eagerly, “Yuh- yeah- ! Please?”

Your fingers wrap around the warm softness of Yuuji’s erection, thumb playfully nudging his mushroom tip’s slit. He throws his head back, ricocheting against the car seat headrest with a throaty groan.

Giggling, you lean in to kiss the sensitive spot just under Yuuji’s jaw, hand still working up Yuuji’s weeping cock, “Having a good time, honey?”

“Uh-huh,” he unwinds his arms around you to grasp your hips once again, fingers bruising at your sides, “Feels so good - so, so good…”

“Who’s making you feel good, Yuuji?”

“You!” his right thigh twitches under you, “You, you - ‘s always you!”

“Always me?”

His chuckle breaks off into a slack-jawed moan, “Said I jerk off to you every night, didn’t I?” he reaches for your wrist, “Wait, wait!”

“Were you…?” so soon?

“I told you!” now he’s the one whining like a petulant brat, “I don’t wanna cum before you, but you just make it so hard.”

So soon.

Your thighs squish around Yuuji’s, hips grinding on nothing - desperate in search of friction.

“You like that?” he sounds breathless, staring at you as you watch his bobbing cock. All red at the head and straining against your hand, “You’re so mean, babe.”

“I like it a lot,” you sit up, lips finding Yuuji’s drool-slicked ones, “I like knowing I have that effect on you.”

“Since I first saw you, I think,” he admits, hands skimming under your skirt now, “Can I… ?”

You nod, holding tightly to Yuuji’s shoulders while you lean on one leg. You could, theoretically, drag your panties down your lifted leg by yourself - but Yuuji stubbornly joins your hand all the way down to your ankle.

Before trying to slip inside you, Yuuji cups your hot sex. His chest tightens, middle finger shakily tracing along your soaked cunt. Tongue lolling back out of his mouth, Yuuji tucks your nipple back into his mouth when he inserts his finger in your hole. Trying to keep his mind as busy as possible so he can stop thinking about how badly he needs to bury himself inside you.

“Yuuji,” your breathing is ragged, already lowering yourself before he even pulls his finger out of you, “I’m so past ready.”

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles against the swell of your tit, teasing his teeth against the full flesh, “I dunno if I’ll be able to get in…” he chuckles to himself, lightheaded when he taps the head of his cock against your clit, “Might slip right out, huh?”

“Stop teasing,” you cradle Yuuji’s head to your chest, arms thrown around his neck, “You’re the mean one.”

“I know, I know,” he lowers in his seat, pressing himself finally, finally, finally inside your pussy. Your tits press even closer to his face when you gasp at the stretch, “I’ve been ignoring my poor pretty girl this whole time,” he says it so mournfully, so heartfelt, “So selfish, just thinking of my pride - I didn’t even wonder how my girl felt.”

“Ahh, Yuuji,” you moan, piercing your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I’m sorry, pretty girl,” he pushes down on your hips, lowering you on his stiff cock until your thighs are flush with his soft pants. They’re a little wet. You don’t care much, and you don’t think Yuuji does either right now. He screws up into you, one arm tight around your waist to pull you down into his thrusts and the other hand finding your slippery clit, “I’m so sorry, angel, can you forgive me?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” his fingers work quick circles on your nerves as he fucks you and you’re barely able to scramble together the words (let alone carry those words out in a sensible form), “Yes - ah! - yes, Yuuji!”

There’s something in the way he twists his hips this time because his cock beats into a particular spot that sends white sparks through your veins. You snap back, head hanging and forcing your bouncing tits directly in Yuuji’s face. Before you can even begin to beg, your big, energetic (and maybe a little pathetic) boyfriend is already nodding to himself.

“Right there, angel?” his fingers leave your clit to press down on where his cock batters your insides, “Is that it? Want me right here?”

“Please!” you squeal, thighs quivering and lungs fresh out of air.

“Uh-huh,” he keeps nodding, head too empty to realize he doesn’t need to anymore, “Uh-huh, anything for you… fuckin’ anything…”

When your lower half burns out, Yuuji keeps you upright - fully fucking up into you at that same spot he pushes down on your tummy. The need to cum burns every nerve in your body - it burns and burns and burns until it changes.

Something fuller and more familiar - in a more daily-life kind of way.

“Ah, Yuuji,” your hands perch on his shoulders, body bouncing with the weight of Yuuji’s hips slinging into yours, “I think- ! It feels like- !”

“Talk to me, angel,” dumbly, he looks up at you, almost snickering, “‘Entertain me.’”

“Feels like ‘m gonna pee,” you try warning him, you really do.

But something behind his eyes just shines brighter, grin widening and he actually laughs, “Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Fuck yeah,” he stares, wide-eyed, at where you’re creaming on his cock, “You gonna squirt on me, baby?” his foolish nodding quickens with his hips, “Squirt all over me, angel, I want it - want it so bad. Soak my car, oh,” his pretty mouth circles into an ‘O’ just at the thought, “Please, please soak my fucking car!”

Your head jerks back, nails digging into Yuuji’s shoulders, throat snapping raw as you cry out braindead mixtures of your boyfriend’s name and pleas for more and harder and his cum.

He moves the hand on your tummy to swish your clit and spread your mess as far as he can, mouth popping open almost instinctively just to catch stray droplets of your cum in his mouth. One day (tomorrow) he might regret (will definitely regret) intentionally making you spray cum all over his front, and even back, seats, but right now he couldn’t possibly imagine not doing it.

“‘m gonna cum,” he grits his teeth, moans choked back in his throat, “‘m gonna cum - where?” before he can ask again, you find the strength to swivel your hips down on him, “Inside?”

“Inside!” you sob, chest tight and eyes watering at the overstimulation of Yuuji still swirling a thumb on your clit, “Cum inside, Yuuji!”

“Fu- ck,” he squeezes the word out of his chest, seating you fully on his lap when his cock throbs. He juts his chin out towards you when he starts cumming, “Kiss me?”

And you waste no time throwing yourself forward to press chaste, sweet kisses on Yuuji’s drooling lips. He hums and whimpers into your mouth, greedily drinking in the taste of your lips on his. As if he’d been starved of it his entire life.

Yuuji keeps you against him, the both of you slowly coming back down to Earth.

His sopping pants are beginning to cool underneath you.

“Ugh,” you groan at the feeling, “I think we made a mistake.”

“Yeah…” Yuuji sighs, “Oh well. Can’t unfuck in the car now.”

You’re kind of dreading pulling off Yuuji’s soft cock - if you hadn’t done enough to ruin Yuuji’s pants before, then that most certainly will.

Yuuji sighs again, heartier, hands coddling your hips and tenderly rubbing circles into your bone. His eyes fall to your breasts and remain there, “I really am sorry, angel. I- I never, ever wanted you to feel like I didn’t want you.”

Because he does. Good, God, he always does.

Every time he sees you, his hands get all sweaty and his cheeks are hot and his stomach twists into jumbles of knots.

“It hurt,” you admit, “but it’s fine now,” you giggle at the idea of him apologizing over trying to be respectful, “It isn’t like you were being a dick, you know?”

“Yeah, but! Ugh!” he clenches a hand over his heart dramatically, frowning, “I hurt my girlfriend’s feelings. My sweet girl :( “

“You’re cute,” you kiss one of Yuuji’s fiery cheeks, “Okay, help me off.”

“Oh, yeah, huh,” he stretches over your shoulder to wring your panties back up your leg, “It’ll be unpleasant, but I think you need to wear these back to your apartment.”

“I’ll live,” you pick at the elastic to Yuuji’s pants and snap them back against his sweaty thigh, “Can’t be worse than this, pee pants.”

“Hey, it’s not pee,” he pouts once again tonight, “And be nice.”

You shake your head, leaning down to press your lips against Yuuji’s once again. Soaking in the taste like you’d been starved of it your entire life, “Never.”

#yuji itadori x reader #yuji x reader #itadori x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuji x reader smut #itadori x reader smut #yuji smut #yuji fluff #yuuji itadori x reader #yuuji x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut

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lingeriae · 5 months ago

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"because you're my wife."

the voice is aggressive and harsh, which isn't unexpected because of the person it comes from, but the words have you feeling warm even with the possessiveness and aggression that comes off of it, it still has you face heating up and your eyes averting from his ruby red ones that seem to see right through you.

sukuna's fist is clenched and his body is tense as he stands in front of you, unknown and unwanted emotions flowing throughout his body, his heart beating rapidly and loudly in his ears—he wonders if he's having a heart attack at the moment. his swallows as he takes in your beautiful side-profile, light hitting your sun kissed skin just right, his fingers itch with the need to grip unto you. to take you.

his throat feels tight.

your stubborn, reckless—smart but reckless. it gets on his nerves, the way you don't seem to care about anything, not even yourself. your defiant, especially against him. don't follow rules, and go by what you think is right, and no one, not even him, can get in the way of what you think is right. and it's funny, you're just a mere human, a bothersome woman. sukuna could take your life easily, he has no doubt you would put up a fight, but he could kill you.

that was the plan all along, marry a member of the zenin clan, get the information needed, then kill them.

but things had changed, a lot of things changed since he met you. you made sukuna...feel things. you were different from all the members of that shitty clan, with your hair that rose towards the sun, always looking neat with the little curly coils and always feeling soft to the touch, you didn't cease to amaze sukuna with the little way you styled it and with the way you cared it so delicately.

your fierce glare that rarely left sukuna's gaze, never backing down even when he gave you the most deadliest of looks that had anyone else cowering, those same eyes that allow him to see how vunerable you are when you let him have his way with you and show him how you truly felt at times. those plumpy soft lips, full and round, they felt like heaven against his own when they overlapped. your sweet fucking voice, always finding something to cuss him out about, always saying his name in more ways than once. shit don't let him start on your fucking body.

you made sukuna feel things, give him this warm and nice feeling inside and it makes him sick. everything would go according to plan if you didn't make sukuna fall for you—if you weren’t so you. that's why he can't kill you,

and that's why he's so fucking upset.

with your arms crossed over your chest, you unintentionally make the male infront of you glance down at your supple breast that sits temptingly against your bra, you suck your teeth in annoyance still refusing to look at him. "i was your wife before, and it wasn't a problem." before, before he fell for you. before he got infactuated with you.

his jaw tightens and he grabs your chin, forcing you to stare into his eyes. "i said what i said, you'e not doing that shit. you're gonna get fucking killed."

you drag your hand from his grip as if you were burned, returning his equally intense gaze and ignoring the way your panties seem to cling unto you. drenched with annoyingly arousal. "don't talk to me like im a fucking child, ryomen."

sukuna’s head tilted in brief wonder and amusement, astonished that you would spit his last name out with such venom, knowing he could kill you in a second. knowing that not only was it his name but yours.

he lets out a bitter chuckle, "stop fucking acting like it."

it's a silent battle between you and him after that. both of you silently daring the other to look away as you continued to glare at each other—a silent battle between husband and wife. a war between two faith-fucked lovers.

sukuna huffs out a breath, shaking his head wildly before cradling your delicate and god-like face in his palm—akin to some form of desperation.

“what is it going to take? to prevent you from doing this to-to stop you from going on this fucking suicide mission?!” his voice almost cracks.

sukuna ryomen’s voice almost cracks.

your hand is so little in contrast to his. it has committed less cruelty and faced less harsh treatment compared to his, yet you place your hands over his and caress them with such gentleness. such tenderness and love.

and sukuna’s heart cracks at the words that left your lips, inhaling sharply as if he had been stabbed in the chest.

“there’s nothing you can do, you can’t stop me from doing this. nothing you do or say will change my mind and that’s final.”

the king of curses forgets how to breathe.

#x black reader #x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jjk x black reader #jjk x reader #jjk sukuna #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jujutsu sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jujustsu kaisen #black reader #writtenbyjae

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winxanity-ii · 7 months ago

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FATHER, FORGIVE ME

ship: father charlie x fem!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 ( oral sex/f. receiving; overstimulation; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery ) word count: 4.1k a/n: ahhh….I just want to say I'm so thrilled with all the love and support for the mini Devotion series! It means the world to me to see you guys enjoying it as much as I do. And a huge thank you to everyone who wished me a happy birthday! I got drunk asf, and here's the rough draft I made while tipsy, lolol. Hope you all enjoy~ 😈✨..

★·.·´ɢʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇʀɪᴇ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

You wouldn't say you were a bad person.

Selfish? Maybe. Impulsive? Absolutely. But "bad" seemed a bit of a stretch.

It's just that, when you saw something you wanted, you didn't hesitate to take it—and, honestly, you had no regrets. Not until now, at least.

Sitting here, surrounded by the smell of old hymn books and dusty incense, listening to some wrinkly old man in a white robe drone on about salvation.

The whole thing was your mother's doing. She had this recurring phase, like clockwork, where she'd get bitten by the "Bible bug."

For a few weeks every year, she was the most devoted Catholic you'd ever seen. She'd call, text, guilt-trip—anything to get her kids back on the straight and narrow, even if just for a Sunday morning.

For the last seven years, you'd managed to dodge it. Moved out at eighteen and never looked back, leaving the duty of church attendance to your three other siblings.

Usually, someone would take one for the team and tag along with Mom until her enthusiasm fizzled out again. But this time, it seemed your luck had run dry—your sister had finally roped you in, and here you were, seven-year streak shattered.

You sighed deeply, eyes half-lidded as they flicked across the stained glass windows—all those saints staring down at you in judgment.

You couldn't help but think of all the things you could be doing right now. Sleeping, for one. Your bed sounded like heaven compared to the hard pew beneath you.

Or brunch with your friends—mimosas and laughter, not these monotone chants and the faint smell of mothballs.

Hell, you could've called Kevin over and gotten dicked down instead of dealing with this—

Your thoughts screeched to a halt, slamming against an unexpected sight.

The old priest, the one whose croaky voice was practically white noise at this point, stepped away from the pulpit. In his place was someone else—someone younger, someone whose presence commanded attention.

A man, tall, dark hair neatly combed back, with a crisp black cassock that hugged his broad shoulders just right. He moved with a sense of ease, like he belonged up there.

And damn, was he handsome. Handsome enough to pull your focus completely, which was a feat in itself given the circumstances.

Your eyes tracked him as he approached the podium, his voice replacing the rasping chant of the old priest. It was smooth, warm, resonant. Nothing like the man you remembered from years ago.

He spoke about community, faith, redemption—but all you could think was how someone like him ended up in a place like this.

You found yourself leaning forward, just slightly, as if drawn in by some invisible force. Your irritation melted away, replaced by a strange curiosity.

Maybe… maybe this wouldn't be the worst way to spend a Sunday after all.

The priest stood quietly at the altar, his figure framed by the soft light filtering through the stained glass windows. A faint scar traced its way down the right side of his forehead, a mark that spoke of some unknown hardship or past misadventure.

He was youthful but with the stillness of someone who’d seen enough to understand patience and humility.

With each breath, the man seemed grounded in his presence, shoulders relaxed but broad, the fabric of his robe resting comfortably against his chest.

His appearance was almost angelic, yet the subtle scar and the weight in his eyes hinted at something more complex beneath the surface—a man of God, perhaps, but one who had walked through fire to find his faith.

"Oh?" You raised an eyebrow in appreciation as you stared at the handsome man up there. You leaned over a bit to your mother, eyes never straying from his figure. "Ma, who's that? Is he new?" you whispered to your mother.

She looked up from her phone, Candy Crush flashing on her screen. You silenced the snort that wanted to come out. Looked like she might retire from church early this year, you thought to yourself, seeing her early signs of disengaging.

She glanced up at the front, giving a quick look before going back to her game. "That's Father Charlie Mayhew. He was brought in about two or three years ago, I think," she murmured absently, barely paying attention.

Father Charlie.

You watched as he spoke, his voice strong yet gentle, his eyes sweeping over the congregation with a genuine warmth. He wasn't like the old priest—this one seemed to genuinely care, as if each word held weight.

You wondered if that scar came from something dramatic, some story worth knowing. Your gaze lingered, taking in the slope of his shoulders, the way his lips moved with each word. Something about him felt... magnetic.

You found yourself sitting up straighter when the two of you made eye contact—he blinked, his words stumbling just slightly, a brief hitch in his otherwise smooth delivery. "I, uh... I apologize," he stuttered, looking off to the side, the tips of his ears turning pink.

You caught the way his eyes shifted nervously, almost as if he was trying to regain his footing. It was subtle, but you could see it—the way he tried to pull himself back together, to get through the rest of the sermon without any more disruptions.

He cleared his throat to continue, "As I was saying... uh, the importance of faith in our lives cannot be overstated. We must always strive to, um, to do what is right, even when it's difficult..." His voice trailed off slightly, but he managed to steady himself, his eyes avoiding yours as he focused on the rest of the congregation.

It made something stir in you, a mix of curiosity and amusement.

You bit down gently on your lower glossed lip, eyes trailing over his form, taking in every subtle detail. The way his hands gripped the edge of the podium, the faint flush creeping up his neck—it was all so telling.

He seemed innocent, reactive.

You smiled to yourself, letting your gaze linger as he continued, noting the way he seemed to avoid looking in your direction now, as if afraid that another glance might trip him up again.

Maybe you should pay a visit to Father Charlie—see if you could break that serene composure of his.

You could already imagine it—the way he might tense up under your touch, the way his voice might crack if you whispered something just a bit too forward.

The thought alone made your heart race, anticipation bubbling up inside you, like something in you just knew—he'd be fun to unravel.

You leaned back in your seat, a slow, satisfied smile playing on your lips. Oh, this was going to be fun.

The sermon ended with a quiet murmur of 'Amen' from the congregation, followed by the gentle shuffle of people rising from the pews.

You glanced around, watching as people slowly made their way to the exits, some stopping to chat while others lingered near the back of the church.

The old priest was nowhere to be seen, but Father Charlie remained, standing at the front as he spoke softly to a small group of parishioners.

Your mother, of course, made a beeline for him. You heard her voice carrying over the hushed conversations, gushing about how moving today’s sermon was.

You rolled your eyes, unable to help yourself, and slowly rose to your feet, making your way over with an almost lazy stride.

As you approached, you could see your mother perk up, her eyes lighting up as she turned to you. "Oh, there she is! Father Charlie, this is my youngest, ____." She gestured towards you, her hand lightly resting on your arm to pull you closer. "You've met my other children over the years."

You could see the change in Father Charlie almost instantly. His posture shifted, his back straightening just a little more, his eyes rounding as they landed on you. He seemed almost like an eager puppy, his gaze bright and attentive.

He quickly pulled his eyes away, turning back to your mother with a polite smile as he nodded. "Yes, I remember," he said, his voice a touch softer. Then he turned to you, his eyes meeting yours as he gave you a gentle smile. "It's nice to finally meet you. I don't think I've seen you here before... ?"

Your mother gave a sort of laughing scoff, waving him off as she caught his attention again. She chuckled, shaking her head. "Oh, Father, the day she willingly comes to church without an incentive is the day the devil is welcomed back into Heaven's gates."

You kept your eyes on Father Charlie, a small smile tugging at your lips as you tilted your head slightly. "Maybe I just hadn't found a good enough reason to come before," you said, your gaze locked on his, your voice light but carrying a hint of something more.

His eyes widened just a little, and you watched as a faint blush spread across his cheeks, his lips parting slightly as he blinked, clearly caught off guard.

Before he could say anything, your mother’s name was called from behind. It was one of her church friends, and in an instant, she was off, waving a quick goodbye and leaving you standing there in front of Father Charlie.

You didn't waste a second, taking a daring step forward, your eyes fixed on him. "So..." you said, letting your gaze roam over him before meeting his eyes again. "You seem awfully young to be running a church like this. I have to say, I'm impressed."

He looked bashful, glancing down for a moment before looking back up at you. "Oh, well, thank you. I just... I do my best," he said, his voice soft, the pink on his cheeks deepening.

You smiled, tilting your head just slightly. "Do you do one-on-one sessions, like other churches do?" you asked, your voice carrying a hint of mischief.

He blinked, clearly confused for a moment, before his eyes widened in realization. "Oh, you mean confessionals?" He nodded quickly, his expression shifting back to something more serious. "Yes, I do. In fact, I was planning on doing confessionals later today, after the services. Not many people take me up on it, but I think it's important to always offer the option."

"Oh, really?" you said, letting your voice drop just a bit, your head tilting to the side as you watched him. You let a small smile curve your lips, your gaze never leaving his. "Well, you wouldn't mind if I came to see you and... confessed, would you, Father?"

He stuttered, his blush deepening as he quickly nodded. "N-No, of course not. You're more than welcome to come by, anytime," he said, his voice a bit shaky.

You smirked, giving him a nod. "Perfect," you said, your voice smooth, before turning on your heel and walking away, back towards where your mother was waiting.

You could feel his gaze on you the entire time, the weight of his eyes almost burning into your back. And you loved it.

This really was going to be fun.

The church grew quieter as the service officially ended, people slowly trickling out while you lingered, waiting for your moment.

Eventually, you made your way to the confessional booth, the small wooden space feeling cramped as you settled in. The air was close, the scent of polished wood and incense hanging heavy.

You could hear Father Charlie shuffling on the other side, the sound of the door closing behind him, the rustle of fabric as he got seated.

You took a breath, letting the silence stretch for a moment before you began. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned..." you said, your voice soft, but there was an edge to it that you couldn't quite hide.

There was a pause before you heard him clear his throat, his voice coming through the small screen that separated you. "The Lord is always ready to forgive. Please, tell me your sins, my child."

You sighed, leaning back slightly, your fingers brushing against the hem of your dress. "I fear I desire a man that is just out of my reach," you said, your voice carrying a hint of frustration. "It's wrong for me to want him... but I can't seem to help myself."

There was a moment of silence, and you could almost picture the look on his face—concerned, earnest, wanting to help. His voice was gentle as he responded. "Desire can be difficult to control, but it is not inherently sinful. It is what we choose to do with that desire that matters. You must pray for guidance, ask for strength... and remember that God understands our struggles."

You hummed softly, your eyes half-lidded as you listened to him, but your mind was drifting. His voice was soothing, and you found yourself imagining what it would be like if things were different.

If there wasn't a screen between you.

If you could reach out, touch him, feel that innocence melt away under your fingers.

Your hand trailed down your side, your fingers brushing over your thigh as you let out a soft sigh.

His voice cut through your thoughts, sounding a bit uncertain. "Sister ____... are you alright? Do you hear me?"

You smiled to yourself, your mind made up. You leaned closer to the screen, your voice dropping to a near whisper. "Father," you began, your tone coy, "I must confess... I find it difficult to focus when you're speaking. You have such a... soothing voice."

His breath caught audibly, and you could almost hear the way he was struggling to gather himself. "W-What do you mean, sister?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly, laced with confusion.

"It makes me think... sinful thoughts."

You could hear the slight hitch in his breath, the rustle of fabric as he shifted. "S-sister," he stammered, clearly taken aback. "This... this is not appropriate."

You ignored his protest, your voice growing softer, more intimate. "You know, Father, I've always heard that confession is good for the soul. And right now... I think there's only one thing that could truly absolve me of these desires." You let the words hang in the air, knowing exactly what you were implying.

"Sister, this... this isn't..." His voice was shaky now, the uncertainty clear. "I don't think—"

"Come get me, Father," you whispered, your tone daring, challenging him. "You wouldn't leave me like this, would you?"

There was silence for a long moment, and then you heard it—the slow shuffling as he moved. The sound of his door opening, the soft creak of the confessional booth as he stepped out.

You pushed your own door open, stepping out into the dimly lit church. Father Charlie was standing there, his head downcast, his face flushed a deep red. He looked like he wanted to say something, but no words came out, his eyes flickering up to meet yours before darting away again.

You took a step towards him, your movements slow, deliberate—like a predator closing in on its prey. His breath hitched as you approached, his shoulders tensing. He cleared his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sister, I... this isn't right. We shouldn't—"

You reached out, your fingers brushing against the front of his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch. You let your hand slide down, your voice a low purr. "Father," you purred, your eyes locking onto his, "I want you to take me somewhere... push me to a higher calling, yeah?"

His eyes widened, the pupils dilating as he stared at you, his lips parting in shock. For a moment, he seemed frozen, and then, almost as if the word was pulled from him, he whispered, "Okay..."

His hand was trembling slightly as he reached for yours, and you let him lead you out of the main church area, his eyes flicking nervously around to make sure no one was watching. He led you down a dim hallway, stopping at a small door that opened into a cramped janitor's closet.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, you were on him.

You pushed him back against the wall, your lips crashing against his. He gasped, and you took advantage, licking into his mouth, tasting the hint of mint on his tongue as a low groan rumbled from your throat. His hands hesitated for a moment before resting on your waist, his touch light, unsure.

You deepened the kiss, feeling the way he shivered beneath your touch, your hands pushing up under his cassock, fingers skimming over the hard lines of his abdomen. His muscles tensed under your fingertips, a shudder running through him as he let out a shaky breath.

You pulled back, just enough to see his face in the low light, and he chased your lips, leaning forward as if he couldn't stand the sudden loss of contact.

You let out a dark chuckle, your hands coming up to cup his flushed cheeks, squeezing gently. His face was a deep shade of red, his eyes half-lidded, his breath coming in short, uneven pants. He looked almost dazed, completely overwhelmed, and it only made your smile widen.

Your thumb grazed over his plump bottom lip, pressing gently before dipping just inside his mouth. His eyes fluttered, his tongue flicking out hesitantly to brush against your thumb before retreating. You let out a soft sigh, a hint of a teasing smile tugging at your lips. "Oh?" you murmured, raising an eyebrow, your gaze fixed on him.

Charlie swallowed hard, his eyes locked onto yours, his breathing ragged. You stepped closer, rising onto your tiptoes, your lips just barely grazing his as you spoke. "You did so well during the sermon, Father," you whispered, your voice low and dripping with suggestion. "It makes me wonder... what could such a blessed mouth do somewhere else?"

His breath hitched, his eyes widening slightly, but he didn’t pull away. You gripped his shoulder, your fingers digging in just enough to make him shiver, and tugged him downwards. "On your knees," you said, your tone commanding, leaving no room for hesitation.

Slowly, almost as if in a trance, Charlie sank to his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. His gaze was filled with a mix of confusion, desire, and something almost like reverence, and it sent a thrill through you.

You watched as he knelt before you, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the part of him that knew this was wrong, that wanted to resist—but the desire was stronger, and he couldn't bring himself to stop.

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair, your touch surprisingly gentle. "That's it," you murmured, your voice softening just a fraction. "Such a good Father... doing exactly what you're told."

You took a step back, your eyes never leaving his as you moved to the nearest wall, leaning against it comfortably.

With slow, deliberate movements, your hands reached down, unzipping your mini skirt and letting it slide down your legs, pooling around your ankles. You made a show of it, your fingers tracing along your thighs, sliding over your hips, and letting out a soft sigh as you watched him.

Charlie's eyes widened, his gaze following every movement, his lips parted, his breath catching in his throat. The flush on his face deepened, his eyes locked onto you with something like awe, mingled with pure, unfiltered desire.

You smirked, lifting one hand and curling your fingers in a come-hither motion. He hesitated only for a moment before slowly beginning to crawl towards you, his eyes never breaking away from yours.

The sight sent a thrill through you, a shiver of excitement running up your spine. He reached you, his hands carefully coming up to rest on your legs, his touch light, almost reverent.

His fingers traced along your calves, moving upwards with a hesitant slowness that made you release a shaky sigh, your back arching slightly as his touch grew bolder.

His hands were trembling as they reached your hips, his fingers brushing against the edge of your underwear. He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking up to meet yours as if silently asking for permission.

You gave a small nod, and he let out a shaky breath, his fingers hooking into the waistband and slowly slipping your underwear down, his eyes fixed on you the entire time.

Once they were off, he shifted closer, his breath ghosting over your bare skin. He surprised you by gently lifting one of your legs, settling it over his shoulder as he pulled you closer, his face inches away from your most intimate parts.

He let out a deep, almost pornographic groan as he leaned in, taking a slow, deep breath, as if breathing you in. The sound sent a jolt through you, your fingers tightening in his hair.

Charlie looked up at you one more time, his eyes searching, as if asking for final permission.

You smiled, your fingers sliding through his hair before giving a gentle but firm scratch along his scalp, your silent approval. He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh before leaning in.

At first, his movements were hesitant, his tongue slipping out to give an experimental swipe. He was sloppy, uncoordinated, his lack of experience clear, but there was a determination in the way he moved, as if desperate to please.

You let out a soft hum, the sound encouraging him, and he grew a little more confident, his tongue pressing more firmly. He licked a long stripe up, his tongue swirling at the top, and you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

"That's it, Father," you murmured, your voice a soft purr. "You're doing such a good job."

The praise seemed to light something in him, a low groan vibrating against you as he pushed in closer. The sound made you gasp, your back arching slightly as the vibrations sent a rush of pleasure through you, your fingers tightening in his hair.

He grew bolder, his tongue delving deeper, slipping inside you as he began to eat you out like a man starved. He was messy, the wet sounds filling the small space, his lips and tongue moving with increasing fervor, as if the more he tasted, the more he craved.

He bullied his tongue into you, his nose brushing against you as he lost himself in the act, his hands gripping your hips tightly, holding you against him as he worked.

You bit down on your lower lip, trying to keep quiet, but the soft, wet sounds filled the small space, making it impossible to ignore.

Your hand moved up, your teeth sinking into the back of it as you stifled a moan, your thighs trembling as he continued. His tongue moved with determination, pressing deeper, swirling before retreating, then focusing on your most sensitive spot.

When his lips closed around your clit, giving a particularly hard suck, your vision blurred, and stars burst behind your eyelids. Your back arched, your body pressing against his face as the waves of pleasure rolled over you, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

Your thighs shook as you slowly came down, your body relaxing slightly against the wall. You let out a shaky breath, your fingers still tangled in his hair, tugging gently. You gave Charlie a small shove, pushing him back just enough.

He hesitated, his tongue giving one last languid lick, followed by a reluctant suck before he finally pulled away, his lips glistening, his breath coming in low, heavy pants. His bottom face was a mess, his eyes half-lidded, dazed as he looked up at you.

You leaned down, your fingers cupping the bottom of his face, your thumb brushing over his flushed cheek as you gave him a swift peck on the corner of his lips. He blinked, his eyes widening slightly, a blush deepening across his face.

Straightening up, you reached down, picking up your discarded thong, folding it neatly before slipping it into the pocket of his cassock. He stared at you, his lips parted, his breathing still uneven.

"Thank you, Father~" you purred, your voice dripping with satisfaction. You watched as his blush deepened even more, his eyes darting away from yours. "You know," you continued, your tone teasing, "I might just have to come back for confession more often."

He swallowed hard, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours, a mix of confusion and something darker swirling in them. You smiled, giving him a wink before turning on your heel, striding out of the closet, leaving him kneeling there, his breath still shaky, his face still flushed.

As you walked away, a satisfied smile playing on your lips, you couldn't help but think that maybe church wasn't going to be so bad after all.

A/N: hehehe, dont mind me, just wanted to see charlie's and y/n relationship in reversal...

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usedpidemo · 4 months ago

Text

Instant crush (Ive Wonyoung)

This world is really something else.

Eight billion people on this planet alone. Billions of planets among the cosmos. And even more stars to count.

It’s truly amazing knowing that you still haven’t found the one. At this point, you might as well shoot for the stars. Perhaps the one you’re searching for might be up there, looking down with the same longing as you have.

—————

Even down on earth, you’re still in good company.

Another clear night in the open fields, ripe for stargazing. Everyone’s brought their food, their sleeping tents, and their telescope, but most importantly: each other. It’s become your primary bonding experience over the last several months.

These days, however, you prefer gazing up at the stars by yourself. It feels more comforting to be alone. No one really looks for you or shows concern when you suddenly disappear from camp, nor do they wonder where you’ve gone when you come back. You could have been killed and there would have been no trace, no search.

If anything, you’re more surprised you still keep getting invited.

Nevertheless, the night sky looks especially lovely tonight, with the countless stars shining at their brightest. While your friends prefer searching for the constellations, you’d rather admire them through your human eyes.

Every now and then, you hear your friends from afar, celebrating as the occasional shooting star passes by. It only emphasizes the loneliness you feel on a larger, painful scale.

On nights like these, you make a wish. You’re not the superstitious kind, but the faith and desperation makes you want to believe. Doesn’t matter if not a soul hears you, your innermost desire rings loud enough to be felt. The tears in your eyes show.

As the night goes further along, you’re about to make your way back to camp. Even from several feet afar, you can see them start winding down, the lights from their campervans flickering off. Everyone else begins to pack their belongings and settle in, when suddenly, another meteor flies past, its glow brighter than any other. You can hear the commotion, their voices loud and ecstatic, claiming they’ve never caught a star this close until now.

Hell, you can see its physical properties with your own two eyes.

As the star descends at blisteringly high speed, you’re hit with the realization that it is, in fact, going to crash nearby. Sure enough, it passes through your line of sight with a blinding gleam before landing several miles away from where you were standing minutes ago. Immediately, a trail of smoke ascends to the sky, its exact location clear as day.

Given the circumstances, it’s your opportunity to finally be seen. To be the first. To be recognized as something more.

While everyone else in camp scrambles for their gear, you make a quick beeline for the crashed meteorite, having given yourself a significant head start. Based on how thin the smoke it left behind, you’d imagine it to be nothing special: just a regular space rock. As you approach the site, and see the shallow crater it made comparable to the average garden excavation, your assumptions would be confirmed.

However, a thick veil of white fumes surrounds the crater’s entire circumference, rendering any attempt to see the meteorite inside impossible. Common sense dictates that one should never touch anything foreign, especially if said object is of extraterrestrial origin. For a while, you contemplate the idea. After all; you may be dumb, but not that reckless.

Seeing as the smoke has no intention to dissipate, you may as well brave the storm. Worst case scenario, you disintegrate into ashes or die from poisoning, but you’ve got nothing to lose at this point. Still, the hesitation remains, as you constantly draw your hand and finger back the closer you get to touching the barrier.

There’s a still, small voice calling out to you, likely your subconscious, daring you to pass through the veil. Your heart wants you to take the leap, your mind tells you to stay back. It’s a surprisingly complicated conundrum.

In the end, the heart wants what it wants. It wants to venture through the unknown. It wants definitive answers. It wants you to take that leap of faith.

Slowly but surely, you slip your finger through the thick white veil. Your skin doesn’t disintegrate nor does it burn. If anything, you feel nothing at all. There’s no smell or sensation as your hand completely disappears beyond the barrier, then to your elbow, until your entire arm is consumed by the fog. Your body moves of its own accord, seemingly getting sucked into an entirely new world beyond the smoke.

As soon as you’re completely taken to the other side, the fog vanishes instantly. Your feet suddenly stop, realizing you’re no longer feeling solid ground. As the earth beneath you crumbles, it turns out you were one step away from falling in embarrassing fashion.

More importantly, there’s no meteorite at the bottom. It’s already cracked into pieces of dust.

So you look up again. On the opposite end of the crater, an unexpected sight takes you off-guard. There’s a woman standing there, completely in the nude.

You can’t help but call to her. “Hey!”

With her back turned against you, looking left and right, your cry falls on seemingly deaf ears.

So you try again. Same result. Completely ignored.

You’ve got no choice but to run around and approach her, albeit cautiously. Even in the middle of nowhere, the danger persists.

The woman’s eyes turn toward you as you reach her. Nudity aside, her appearance is glaringly pretty. An unnatural beauty that you’ve never seen before. Long black hair, pouty lips, and a pristine face worth dying for. She’s really heaven-sent.

However, instead of showing concern or worry, her expressions show that of indifference and apathy. A little curiosity, even. As if she doesn’t know what she’s doing or where she is.

“Excuse me.” You’re trying not to stare at anywhere else but her beautiful face, and even that gets your heart racing. “I’m sorry, but you’re standing out naked in the middle of the cold,” you tell her, slowly falling into temptation. Eventually getting the better of you, you give yourself a tiny glance of her boobs, hoping she doesn’t catch on, and thankfully, she stares idly, “You might need some warmth.”

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she merely blinks and watches you intently.

“Um,” you swallow, unsure of what to say or do, like anyone else in this situation. “Do you know where you are, miss?”

The woman continues to stare at you, occasionally blinking, before finally answering, “Planet 120121, codename Earth.”

Her monotone delivery and the peculiar string of words that came from her mouth take you aback. She continues before you’re even able to say anything, saying, “You are a resident species of planet Earth. Homo sapien. Codename Human.”

And she goes on by listing your complete biology, down to the smallest details. Your personal information, your biometrics, your history. Somehow, her voice saying your name sends shivers down your spine.

The revelation dawns on you, hits you like a truck. “You’re not human.”

Suddenly, before you can ask another question, you hear the shouts of your friends, having finally reached your location. They’re also calling for you, though not as lovely sounding as the alien right in front of you. You turn around and see as they emerge from the disappearing smoke. But as you quickly face her again, she has suddenly disappeared without any trace.

“There you are,” says one of them, the self-professed leader, before you can even react. “Thank God you were okay. We didn’t realize you left on your own, and lo and behold, you’re the first one in our group to discover a meteorite. Who would have thought?”

“There’s nothing here,” interjects another friend, surveying the crater with his camera and scanner, noting the lack of physical evidence. “That’s strange. Usually there should be a meteorite, but it’s just nothing but rubble.”

Unsurprisingly, they’re quick to jump to conclusions. Most of them. The leader narrows his eyes, though his voice remains pleasant and friendly, albeit incredibly shaky. “Look. I know it feels good to feel important, but how about you let us have a little peek? Promise, we’ll make sure you get the credit.”

None of them would ever in the slightest believe what you had seen even if you told the truth. If anything, it’ll be an excuse for them to finally ostracize you. Now you’re caught up in a rather inescapable situation with no clear outs.

“Um.” Your gaze avoids the four sets of eyes intently glaring, threatening to force information out of you with every step forward. You can’t do anything to save your life, including throwing a punch. You reason with them, “Look, I know this might seem hard to believe—”

“What? You broke the meteorite?” The leader interrupts, the three others right behind him, now visibly enraged. Besides the fun and fellowship, there’s plenty at stake. There’s money to be made. Fame and glory. It’ll be memorialized in museums and books. A lasting legacy broken with one simple mistake. “You just wasted us thousands, if not millions with your blatant stupidity—”

“Don’t. He’s correct; he doesn’t have a single trace of foreign material on him,” The guy with the scanner says, stepping ahead to protect you. At least someone in the party has a little common sense. “He’s correct; the meteor must have destroyed itself upon impact.”

You can tell by the leader’s disapproving stare that he doesn’t buy it. At all. Still, for his own reputation’s sake, and to avoid impulsively murdering someone in front of several eyewitnesses, he relents. As he walks away from the scene, you can see his lips moving, silently cursing you.

“Right. Let’s get back to camp and rest up,” he gathers the party and takes his departure, leaving you on your own to catch up.

Of course you don’t follow back. You spend some time looking around the crash site, searching for the mysterious extraterrestrial, but to no avail, having completely disappeared without a trace. It’s a reminder of not dabbling with strange elements you have little to no experience with.

Still, the alien’s strange presence stirs in your mind. Something about it felt human. It certainly possessed a body and spoke like your fellow man, even though its speech could have been ripped from any computer. Maybe it was indeed an alien; you’ve never seen a face like that, so captivating, so dreamlike, yet so familiar. It really makes you think.

Slap yourself a hundred times. It was a hundred percent real and not a hallucination or an illusion.

—————

A day later, you come home to your apartment. Life goes on. Turn on the TV, the noontime news is playing. You figure you’ll fall asleep on the couch after a little while. The night before, you didn’t have sound sleep, still reminiscing about your odd encounter and what it might have meant.

Suddenly, the sound of running water catches your attention. You never stepped foot inside your bathroom, at least not yet, nor were you willing to. No one else lives in this apartment as far as you know, and you’re no believer in ghosts.

So you grab an unplugged lamp from the living room and sneak around, quiet as a mouse. The bathroom door is slightly open as you approach closely, the sound of water growing louder. Someone is using your shower. Instead of rushing in, you wait on the corner, readying to strike at the earliest opportunity.

Your heart races wildly. Your breaths are muffled, deep, and heavy. The water stops, and you can only hear yourself.

For a few tense, lengthy minutes, nothing happens. The intruder has no intention of stepping out, even though there are no vents or openings where they can escape from. It’s an enclosed space. You can easily wait a bit longer, but your impatience gets the best of you.

So you haphazardly charge in, guns blazing, screaming at the interloper. “Get out of here.”

You don’t recognize who you’re screaming at, nor do you careYour vision straightens out, and you’re taken completely by surprise at your uninvited guest.

It’s them. Or in this case, her.

The woman doesn’t respond. In fact, she doesn’t react at all. No expression shift, no rebuttal, no displeasure, nothing. One of your bath towels is draped around her figure, and her body is soaking wet. God, she still has that alluringly gorgeous face, made even better now that’s in living color. You’re already regretting shouting in her face, even if it was in self-defense.

In your shock, you drop the lamp on the floor.

“I—I’m sorry.” You’re struggling to put the words in your mouth. There’s so much running through your mind right now, countless questions. But the most important thing right now is focusing on her. Something about this woman is inviting you closer. The last thing you want to do is push her away. “I—I didn’t realize—”

“Do not apologize.” The woman’s lips try to form some semblance of a grin, and fails. It’s as endearing as everything else you know about her, and so is her robotic speech. “As a matter of fact, I should be the one to apologize for using your water to cleanse myself. I can see why your species enjoys bathing in water. It truly feels refreshing.”

Your eyebrows narrow and your lips twist into a frown. “You don’t shower?”

“Our culture showers, just not in water. You wouldn’t understand.”

And you’re not going to try.

She steps aside, walking past you and out of the bathroom. “Excuse me.”

You allow her.

Following her back to the living room, you watch as the mysterious woman lets your bath towel fall freely to the floor. Before you get an extended peek of her bare body, she waves her dainty hands all over herself, manifesting a white dress set out of nothing around her slender figure, perfectly fitting to a tee.

In case you needed additional confirmation she isn’t human.

“How did you get here—”

“I understand that you have a lot of questions,” she interrupts, brushing a strand of hair aside, facing you with a proper, lovely smile. “And I wish to answer them, so as to not bring you any more stress. But I cannot. For your sake.”

“What do you mean—”

She lifts a finger, hushing you. “All your questions will be answered in due time. For now—” walking toward you, she puts her hands over your arms, “I would like to know you and this place some more.”

You don’t know what to say. This woman’s leaving you flustered and speechless. No one’s ever tried to get this close toward you, not a damn soul. Even a being beyond comprehension, it still feels real. You get a sense that she’s coming from a place of genuine curiosity.

“I—I don’t even know who—or what you are,” you tell her, tone low, overwhelmed.

“You can call me anything you desire,” she says, appealing herself to you with her pretty eyes. “Please let me stay with you.”

There’s no hesitation, no second guessing. There was never any opportunity to resist. “Of course. Please stay as long as you like.”

—————

The woman notices a photo in your bedroom. It’s not a family member or any close friend, but someone everyone recognizes. She’s everywhere you look: on billboards, in magazines, in commercials. You can’t really escape her, no matter how far you go.

She also happens to resemble the alien you’ve been talking to.

“Jang Wonyoung,” the woman mutters to herself, intently scanning the photo of the person she’s the mirror image of. That's your primary reason for attraction. Even as an extraterrestrial, her appearance is the embodiment of Wonyoung. From the face, to the voice, down to the subtleties. “Jang Wonyoung sounds like a cute name.”

“You’re not her,” you bluntly tell her, despite her appearance bearing the exact image of the idol. “You may look like her, you may sound like her, but you’re not Wonyoung.”

Even though, deep in your heart, you’re gonna start calling her just that.

“How long have you been together?” she asks, taking the photo into her hand, presenting a core memory. The idol Wonyoung poses with you as you take a selfie, fresh after one of their concerts.

“Oh—I wish. She’s an idol, I’m just a fan. She can’t date—at least publicly,” you tell her, amused by her lack of familiarity with earthly culture.

“An idol? So she’s a god presiding over this planet?”

“I mean—to some people, yes, but she doesn’t have powers or anything. She’s also like me. A human. A really gorgeous human, but just that.”

“I see.” Wonyoung takes another minute to look at the photo, intrigued. “Why is she given the title idol, then? Idols are usually reserved for gods.”

“Well, it’s kinda complicated,” you’re scratching your head, figuring out how you can simplify yourself without having to chat up an hour-long video essay’s worth. “But she’s mainly a singer, okay? She sings and dances for a crowd of devoted fans, and everyone loves her for doing that.”

“Sings and dances? Shouldn’t these so-called ‘fanatics’ be performing for her instead?”

You scrunch your nose and shrug, barely hiding your chuckle at her sincere naivety. She’s half-right in a way. “You’ll figure it out soon enough.”

Wonyoung follows you back to the living room, unsatisfied by how quickly the conversation ended. She shoots a cute pout that goes completely ignored. You call to her, asking if she wants anything to eat, but falls on deaf ears. Noticing the TV, she sets her eyes on the screen, her attention completely enraptured by all the fast moving action.

As expected, she doesn’t watch TV like any normal human. She stands directly in front of the screen, resting her hand on top of the panel. You can only assume this is her absorbing information. Strange, but nothing you haven’t seen in other sci-fi media.

And then, she begins to float a couple of feet off the ground. Her irises dilate before completely disappearing. Soon enough, objects in your apartment join her in the air moments later, including some of your appliances.

At first, it doesn’t seem remotely close to anything scary, only drawing your curiosity. But as she continues to absorb knowledge from the TV, a strange glow surrounds her body, her eyes glowing bright white. The lights in your apartment flicker on and off, the screen’s imagery changes to static, and all these other little tremors threaten to blow the place open. Nearly every appliance in your flat is going haywire from this sudden surge in power.

You have no choice but to step in before someone gets hurt.

“Wonyoung,” you’re calling to her, telling her to stop, trying desperately to snap her out this haze. She’s too numb to feel anything but the TV. Her body is surrounded with so much white light, it’s beginning to fill the entire room. An explosion is imminent.

You’ve got nothing left except to approach her, no matter how dangerous it may be.

So with one last desperate cry, you shout out Wonyoung’s name, reaching her with your hand from behind. All of a sudden, a blinding flash fills your eyes, leaving you temporarily blind—and rendering you unconscious.

But it works. The light gradually disappears. She falls to the ground, overwhelmed by all this excess energy.

Unfortunately, it comes at your apartment’s expense. To add insult to injury, the fire alarm in your apartment building activates, turning on the emergency water sprinklers. She’s left your entire flat a complete mess.

When you open your eyes, it’s raining everywhere; electronics everywhere falling apart, sparks occasionally shooting from the outlets and from tattered wires. Wonyoung’s lain unconscious in front of the TV, smoke coming out of the thin, shattered panel. Look around and see the aftermath; destroyed pieces of furniture, newly created holes in your walls, a clean break of your window, your life savings completely down the drain.

Still, none of those are your utmost concerns right now. You shake Wonyoung’s inert body, searching for any sign of life. Thankfully, she leans her head sideways moments later, staggered and confused.

“What—what happened?” she can barely open her eyes, let alone move her lips.

“Christ. Wonyoung, we gotta get outta here,” you tell her, lifting her off the ground, wrapping her arms around you. “You blew up my apartment and if anyone finds out, we’ll get in so much trouble.”

She ends up passing out again as you drag her outside your apartment and out of the building.

—————

Mercifully, it appears to be an isolated incident. No one besides you or Wonyoung were injured in some capacity. Still, you’ve come to the grim realization that never step foot inside your apartment ever again.

Emergency services rush into the building, while the police seal off the entrance for the other residents—at least temporarily. You’ve hidden Wonyoung’s motionless body behind a pair of sunglasses, hiding her behind some bushes at the nearest park, keeping yourself distant from her to avoid any suspicion. Your friends, devoted astronomers and stargazers, aren’t ready to accept the existence of alien life, much less the authorities and the public. Especially since her appearance is deeply tied to someone well-known, a star in and of herself.

Everyone knows the fire is coming from your apartment. The smoke from your window reaches up to the sky. So of course, when it’s time for questioning, all fingers are pointed toward you.

You tell them the exact same thing: a power surge, an electricity overload. Faulty cables and appliances. Whether it’s the police, the fire department, the medics, or the media. Anything to keep her existence hidden from the world. Sure enough, everyone buys it. Freak accidents occur all the time. It’s one of those days. Shit happens.

The only one who doesn’t look happy or at least concerned is your landlord, obviously. You’ve destroyed his property after all.

“I was gonna tell you to get out, but it looks like you’ve done that yourself,” he tells you, tone condescending, showing no empathy towards your situation. You can tell he’s wanted you gone for a while, but wasn’t legally able to.

“I was planning to move out anyway,” is your rebuttal, equally as snarky. Rubbing your arm, still wincing in pain from earlier. A lot has happened and there’s plenty more to do, but your first priority is Wonyoung. It’s been almost an hour since you’ve left her in the park.

So you run back to the spot where you’ve hidden her, only to find that she has completely disappeared. Panic sets in. Your search leads you to other parts of the city. Hours pass, with your efforts coming up empty. The sun is beginning to set, with you having quite the conundrum: she’s not only gone, but you have no shelter.

As fate would have it, you find Wonyoung in a different park on the other side of the city. She’s watching a group of skaters from afar, still wearing your sunglasses.

You call out her name, and she turns to you, her expression stone cold. She raises a hand though, presumably waving without actually motioning.

“Hey. I’m—I’m sorry for what happened back there,” you tell her, taking a seat beside her as she turns her attention back to the skaters. “Look. I know you’re upset that I left you back there, but you gotta understand that you can’t just do that. You were wrecking up my place. Well—you did wreck it, actually.”

“So is that what the smoke was about? I did that?” Wonyoung asks with zero awareness or alarm, as if she really didn’t know what she had done.

You gently nod, frowning. As much as you don’t want to, she has to know the truth. “Yes. You were scanning the TV, and you got into this weird state where you were floating. Other objects were starting to move too, the electronics were surging with power, and—” you swallow, your lips trembling, “you hurt me.”

Wonyoung’s mouth slowly drops at your confession in utter disbelief. She takes a moment to collect herself. Based on the frown on her lips, you get the sense that she’s feeling guilty, even if it wasn’t her intent. Even behind sunglasses, a tear falls from one of her eyes.

“I—I’m sorry.” She reaches her hand out to you, a familiar glow surrounds her, this time fainter than what you saw earlier. As she touches your arm, the gleam passes from her skin to yours. It’s a soft, warm, comforting touch. More than that, it’s a healing brush; your scars, scrapes, and wounds gradually seal themselves clean, curing any and all forms of physical pain. Then it stops. “I hope I can make it up to you.”

“What are you then? What planet do you come from?” you ask, finally removing the bandage that you’ve plastered between you.

“I cannot tell you that,” she says, blunt and to the point. “Our intentions cannot be made known by species other than our own.”

“You destroyed my apartment. You owe me an explanation,” you tell her, frustrated by her response.

Wonyoung gives herself a moment to think in silence. As the city lights turn on, she looks up. High in the sky, a shooting star flies by, similar to the one that led you to her.

“They’re coming,” she says to you, her gaze lingering on that falling star. Another one trails not too far behind. “Perhaps they’ve already arrived.”

“Who are? There’s more of you?”

She nods, confirming your answer.

“We’re a conquering intergalactic species,” she tells you, still looking up to the heavens above. By the weight of her voice, this is something serious. “We search for hospitable worlds we can inhabit and rule by slowly assimilating into their culture before destroying the host planet and reforming it as our own.”

“So you’re like a race of body snatchers,” you comment, staring at her side profile, unable to tell yourself you’re speaking to a hostile alien, even if it’s apparent by her outlandish diction. In your eyes, she’s still Wonyoung. You quip, “I can see why you would choose Wonyoung.”

“Yes. Upon further research, I can come to the conclusion that this Jang Wonyoung is an exemplary sample of the human race,” she tells you, smiling cutely. “It’s such a shame that humans like her must be destroyed along with everything else on this planet.”

“But why? Why destroy Earth?”

“It’s a planet that will ultimately destroy itself,” says Wonyoung, putting her head down, looking at the ground beneath. “And from what I see, the only way it can be saved is by wiping the dominant species from existence. Humans.”

“There are still good people. At times we go to war, at times we can be selfish—but we still come together in times of need. At the end of the day, we still need each other to survive.”

“Your friends—they seem to not trust you at all,” she says, referring to your fellow stargazers. “Why do you still call them your friends?”

It’s a question even you yourself are struggling to figure out. Maybe it’s all about the fellowship and camaraderie, but you’ve never once felt welcome or important. No one ever bothers to keep a lengthy conversation with you. You’re often forgotten and overlooked to the point where your presence is nigh-invisible. To them, you’re mostly just an extra body, sometimes a liability, as seen during the meteorite incident. And yet, you still ride along whenever they come calling.

“To be honest, I don’t really know,” you tell her, lowering your head while sighing wistfully. “It’s been really lonely these days, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Then why did you trust me, knowing now that I am your enemy?” she asks, staring at you intently.

“You’re not an enemy to me, Wonyoung.” You face her, tilting your head away from the ground, under the delusion that some part of her is indeed human. “I don’t care if you’re an alien or if you want to kill me. What’s important is that I protect you right now, even if that means dying or whatever.”

Everything boils down to a simple question: “Why?”

At first, you don’t really have a definitive answer. But looking at the splitting image of her, your favorite idol, you know exactly why. You smile.

“Because I like you, Wonyoung. I can’t help but think it’s you, no matter how much I try to deny it.”

“I am not your so-called ‘Wonyoung.’ You are beyond irrational.”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” you tell her, looking up at the stars. “I believe you’re here for a reason.”

“And what reason may that be?”

The question goes ignored, and for good reason: you don’t exactly know. However, as you grow more acquainted with Wonyoung, perhaps you’ll figure it out. Something tells you it’s divine intervention, an answer to your heart's innermost desires.

“Humans like you genuinely puzzle me,” she remarks, still watching you closely, like you’ve got something to hide. Secrets upon secrets.

“I feel the same way about us,” you quip back, quietly chuckling at her comment, because it’s true. Seeing how dark it is outside, you get up. “It’s getting late though, we should probably find somewhere to stay for the night.”

“I can take care of myself.” She says it exactly the way the real Wonyoung would—with a dash of sass and a charming attitude. Her body morphs into a clear formless liquid, showing you she can disappear and reappear anywhere at any time before transforming back into the girl of your dreams.

“I know, I know,” you tell her, reaching out your hand, undeterred. “But don’t you wanna see what Earth is really like before you destroy it for good?”

She blinks twice, contemplating the idea. “You’re right.”

—————

Wonyoung’s attention is scattered all over the place. Bright lights, big city, Wherever she turns, something new happens. Crowds going in and out of buildings, families bonding, everything else in between. There’s a childlike wonder in her eyes, in awe of our species and culture, seeing everyone from all walks of life grouped together.

She sees herself everywhere—on billboards, on the TVs for sale, on little posters. She sees the real one performing on screen, and recognizes why you and many others hold her in such high regard. In the same way she’s captivated you, it’s dazzling her too.

Maybe Earth isn’t as horrible as initially thought.

“Yeah,” you tell her, slowly tracing back your steps as you’ve realized she’s vanished again—a lot more than you care to count. Smiling from ear to ear as you look at the TV, then at Wonyoung, as if to say ‘I told you so.’

Wonyoung grins back. She waves her hands around like a wand, magically turning her little dress into an all-white jumpsuit, looking like a million bucks, as she should.

“Just had to rub it in, huh,” you remark, ogling her new appearance from head to toe.

She chuckles, placing her hand on your shoulder in the most attention-seeking way possible. She’s a natural at looking and acting hot, which doesn’t surprise you—it’s Wonyoung, after all. Seeing herself on screen has given her a template to follow.

“I bet you’re a little hungry now,” she remarks, whispering against your ear, her voice skin melting. Again, effortlessly seductive.

A million thoughts instantly come to mind, most of which are best left unsaid. But then you hear your stomach grumble, by far the most embarrassing to admit defeat. Of course she hears it, makes it a big deal by laughing heartily.

“Unfortunately so.”

“What is the best place to eat around here?” she asks, as if you’ve got a whole reserve of money lying around—which you don’t.

“You serious? I can barely find a place to stay, let alone something good to eat,” you admit, coming to terms with the fact you may be in serious trouble. Having vacated your apartment because of her, you’ve left most of your belongings behind, leaving with nothing but your phone, wallet, and the clothes on your back, which are in slightly poor shape.

“I see.” She presses her hand tightly on your shoulder, using her powers to transfigure your clothing into something matching hers. A fine, expensive two-piece suit. Still, it’s not changing your current predicament.

“I appreciate the thought, but let’s not get carried away,” you comment, holding your coat and examining yourself. “I mean, we’re still in public and it kinda beats the point of hiding you.”

“No one cares,” she replies back, glancing at the surroundings to back her statement. She’s right; everyone’s got places to go, people to hang out with, that you’re both merely passersby. However, you also notice a heightened increase in police activity. Cops everywhere in the wake of today’s incident, still fresh in your minds. It’s a crowded night with a lot happening. You can get away with almost anything—time to see just how much that means.

“All right. If that’s the case, then I sure wouldn’t mind having a lot of money right now,” you tell her, pulling out your near-empty wallet to see if she can make bread from stones.

Wonyoung shakes her head, more baffled by your actions than anything else. “What are you doing?”

“You said you could do anything and no one would bat an eye,” you say, hiding your rather selfish intentions from her.

“Oh, absolutely. But I cannot make something out of nothing. Unless you want me to turn your wallet into cash, in which case I can only convert it into the highest value of whatever currency—”

“Okay I get it,” you interrupt, unwilling to listen to all the needless semantics. So you look around and immediately find an alternative—an ATM. Taking her across the street, you lead her to the machine and point your hand towards it. “I suppose you could do something with this then?”

“You do recognize that this is a form of theft and is therefore punishable by law?”

“I thought you said no one cares,” is your reply, slightly raising your voice in frustration. “What the fu—”

“I was merely joking.” Wonyoung shakes her head, smirking at your now dismayed expression, much to her delight. “Hand me your wallet.”

After you do so, she slips your card into the slot and this is where the magic happens. Holding out her hand against the tiny screen asking for the PIN, a faint pinkish glow emanates from her hand before waning out. She correctly enters your number without having to ask, then withdraws the highest amount of cash allowed from the machine.

You squint your eyes looking at the screen, examining the amount of money left in your account as she places the cash into your wallet. Millions, where there wasn’t any. Wonyoung is truly a miracle worker, her powers vast and beyond measure. The possibilities are endless.

“Would you like me to withdraw some more?” she kindly asks, as if you’re a beggar asking for money. You can only stare at her, utterly shell shocked and in disbelief.

Trying to play it cool to futile results, you end up submitting in the littlest voice possible. “I guess we could withdraw enough just for tonight—who am I kidding, do it four more times.”

—————

“Good evening, sir. Ma’am.” The host of this five-star restaurant greets you with a customary gentle bow. It’s a place Wonyoung picked after going through the options on your phone. She already knows this city better than you do, and you’ve lived here for over a year. “Do you have a reservation?”

Even though you’ve warned her numerous times about the dangers of going out and about in public, she doesn’t listen, insisting you trust her instead. Seeing what she’s done with her powers so far, you’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. All this time, she’s never taken off the sunglasses you’ve given her.

You give Wonyoung a trusting nod. Let her do all the work. She gently presses a finger on her cheek, and out comes that familiar glow of energy bursting from her. The host blinks a few times before seemingly leading you inside without any further questioning. “This way.”

Finding a table for two, you scan your nearby surroundings; the chatter inside the restaurant going radio silent, leaving only the music. Her powers have affected everyone within her vicinity, turning them into mindless zombies. Everyone—except you.

With your safety guaranteed, Wonyoung finally removes her sunglasses. The way she looks at you with her own two eyes gives you butterflies in your stomach. You have to remind yourself she’s only a mirror, a phantom and not the real Wonyoung. And yet you can’t; you’d like to imagine this is how she would treat you in real life, superpowers or not. Only God knows how you really feel about her. She makes you feel special in a way that’s incomprehensible. It’s hard to act normal in her presence.

With her, you feel like you can do anything.

“Our order’s not gonna be ready for some time,” Wonyoung comments, her eyes skating around the place, ensuring no one escapes her mind control. Her strange dialect and behavior is the clear giveaway, no matter how much you spin it, even if she has incorporated some of your culture into her vocabulary. “So let’s pretend that you’re dating me. How would you satisfy me?”

“Satisfy?” Even though you understood the context right away, your mind is already going there. To places where it shouldn’t be.

“Yes. As in, how would you make a good first impression on me? Or her?”

Truthfully, you have no idea where to start. For one, Wonyoung’s a celebrity with a status only surpassed by a certain few in her profession. Secondly, you’re working the nine-to-five like most people in this country. There’s no buying your way into her heart, that’s never gonna happen. If anything, she could own you. She has an air of prestige surrounding her, one that makes her nigh untouchable and above everyone else. Sharing a moment, no matter how brief, is a privilege, a miracle in its own right; how much more that you’re out with her in public? It would draw so much attention that you could never live a normal life. Every little thing, every little action, every little mistake would be a damning attack on your character. Something you’re all too familiar with.

So even in a make-believe scenario, you just know you’d lose no matter what. Her question brings you back down to earth.

“What’s up? Was it something I said?” Wonyoung notices the sudden dour expression on your face.

You can’t even muster the strength to face her. Looking down at the table is the only thing you can do.

“Reach out your hand,” she asks, hoping to get to the bottom of your predicament. It falls on deaf ears, worrying her.

So she does it herself, grabbing you by the hand, diving headfirst into the recesses of your mind. Her body trembles, levitates above the ground as she runs through your memories, through years of images and moments, both the good and bad.

The emotion is too much to handle. She snaps her eyes wide open, tears falling from her eyes. It’s happening again: a powerful burst of energy ripples through the area, sending everyone and everything flying back. Anyone under her mental spell is taken back to reality, with seemingly no recollection of their actions during her control.

Immediately realizing what she’s done, she tries to fix everything by herself, ignoring that you were pushed back by her blast too.

“Wonyoung? What did you do?” you ask, before looking around and seeing the complete clusterfuck. Your concern turns to panic. “Not again.”

She’s too focused on correcting her mistakes to hear you. She immediately uses her powers to brainwash everyone again, placing a finger on her temple, resembling that of a familiar professor. Under her command, every person in the building autonomously works on cleaning her mess, though some damages, like the cracked walls and the broken lights, are far beyond fixing.

But the strain of using her abilities excessively catches up with her, causing her to snap violently before quickly collapsing to the ground. Soon after, everyone is freed from her mind control again.

“Oh God—not again, not again.”

While everyone in the restaurant tries to collect themselves and figure out what’s happened to them, you drag Wonyoung outside and conceal her behind the darkness of an alleyway, fanning her with a rolled up magazine to keep her conscious. Thankfully, she’s groaning audibly in pain, which means she isn’t as hurt as you initially thought.

Tilting her head to the side, unable to open her eyes, she weakly murmurs, “It happened again?”

“It happened again. We’re not doing this anymore. Let’s just find a hotel and call it a night.”

—————

You weren’t taking any risks this time. You’ve booked yourselves the cheapest, nearest hotel you can afford, even with all the money at your disposal. It’s not like you’ll stay here for days. After all, you’ve called in a favor: a friend to borrow their car, intending to drive as far away from civilization as possible.

Wonyoung has kept herself quiet and distant ever since. You can hear her mumbling something, but you’re unsure exactly what. She stares distantly at the wall, deep in thought.

“Get plenty of rest. We’ll be traveling quite a lot in the coming days. It won’t be comfortable, I tell you now,” you say, offering her a glass of water to recuperate.

Snapping from her haze with your voice, she turns to her side, seeing your kind gesture toward her. She’s unable to bring herself to look directly into your eyes, frightened about the possibility of hurting you again. She tries to reach out her hand, almost takes the cup from your grasp, but ultimately gives in to her doubt and pulls back, unable to accept your offer.

So you place the drink by her bedside and leave her alone with her thoughts.

After having quite the eventful day, the couch is looking like the most comfortable place to be in right now, even more than the bed. All of it is barely sinking in; you’re still under the impression that you’re in a rather elaborate dream that you’re more than ready to wake up from. Everything feels too good to be true.

Right as you’re about to fall unconscious on the sofa, you hear Wonyoung calling your name from the bedroom. You try to sleep it away, but she calls out again. So despite your exhaustion, you decide to check in on her.

She’s still sitting on the bed’s edge, her water partially consumed. You genuinely feel sorry for her. She can’t bring herself to look at you, but she does mutter a little ‘thanks’ in appreciation for your kind gesture.

Sitting beside her, your hand intertwines with hers. Warm, calming, comforting.

“It’s getting late,” you murmur, glancing at the clock set next to the bed, 10 minutes past 11 in the evening. Your ride will arrive early in the morning. What happens after, you don’t know. “Go to sleep, Wonyoung. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

“I don’t require sleep,” she tells you back, reinforcing her status as an alien.

“Well that doesn’t matter to me. You still need some sleep, for your peace of mind—and mine,” you reply.

Wonyoung leans her gaze in your direction, cautious, yet highly fascinated. Even after going through the depths of your mind, there’s still plenty that’s beyond her comprehension. Her observations have reinforced her opinion of you: that you’re truly one of a kind. An anomaly.

“You are quite the lonely soul, and yet you choose to be kind towards those that are cruel towards you,” she comments, softly breathing against your cheek.

“I wouldn’t say cruel,” you quip, meeting her in the middle. “That sounds a bit excessive.”

“Your memories—they only bring me anger and sorrow,” Wonyoung replies, narrowing her eyebrows thinking about them. “I cannot believe people would choose to hurt others without sound reasoning.”

“That’s just how it is in this world, sadly,” you tell her, blunt and to the point. “But regardless, Mom taught me that a little kindness goes a long way.”

“So, about this Wonyoung: what is it about her? Why are you so attracted to her?” she asks, and you’re staring into her eyes, pretending she’s asking this question herself directly to you.

You pause, contemplate your answers for a moment, before finally responding, “Aside from being the prettiest girl in the world, she just—seems like the ideal girl to me. I mean—she’s really beautiful, she can sing, she can dance, she can write lyrics, and she’s got this natural attitude about her that makes her the perfect celebrity. ”

“Your reasoning sounds—very superficial. Surely there’s something that resonates deeper than merely being a celebrity crush.”

You roll your eyes, feeling a little called out, and admittedly a bit ashamed, even if you’re staring down a phantom of Wonyoung. You’re taken aback by how real every word sounds from her glossy lips. It’s a wake-up call, a vicious but much-needed reality check.

“And as I go through your mind, you have nothing but shallow thoughts and sexual fantasies about Wonyoung,” she continues, using your hand as an outlet to dig through your brain and dissect you. “Perhaps that is why you have taken a liking to me as well. I just so happen to inhabit the form of your greatest desire: this woman.”

She’s caught you red-handed, and well, there’s no getting around it: you want Wonyoung more than anything, even if it’s an impossibility.

“Have I ever told you that your eyes can only see whatever they wish to see?” She’s leaning closer toward you, a bit too dangerous for comfort. “No other being in the universe can gaze at our true form other than ourselves.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but yeah—you do look quite a lot like her,” is your reply, like you’ve just uncovered a world changing revelation.

“Still, I can’t help but wonder: you like this Wonyoung for more than just her looks, but you can’t tell me exactly why,” she says, greatly fascinated by the intrigue.

“I have no idea either. Dead serious. If I knew, I would have told you by now.”

Wonyoung stands in front of you, still holding your hands. Closing her eyes, her powers manifest again, transforming her white jumpsuit into a little black dress, without any skirt, her slender legs in clear view. Smiling sweetly, she offers you an invitation, “What do you say you come and find out with me?”

It’s an offer you’d be hard-pressed to refuse. Forget that she’s an alien. Forget everything that sci-fi media has taught you about fucking extraterrestrial life. If you’re gonna go down, you might as well go down on a high.

—————

You both should be sleeping by now. Instead, you’re making a bit of a mess in your hotel room. Nothing a little magic can fix.

Wonyoung makes sure your gaze stays on her at all times. Any second thoughts disappear the moment she takes you by the hand, and makes you meet at her level. She’s mostly slender legs and arms, of raven-colored hair; it’s easy to imagine what’s beneath her sole layer of skimpy clothing.

“I thought you said I liked her more for something other than sex?” you ask, as if that’s gonna change what’s about to happen.

“Let’s just say I’m trying to appeal to your—hmm—” Wonyoung dips her head, plants her hands on her knees, crouching before you, the word having escaped the tip of her tongue, before she recollects herself. “Humanity.”

With a flick of her fingers, she unbuttons your shirt bottom to top, but you hold the middle button as her magic climbs halfway through your clothing. “No powers,” you tell her, shaking your head. “It’s not as good without doing it yourself.”

She blinks. For a moment, you thought you might have offended her. To your surprise, she gracefully straightens herself out. Without complaint, she takes hold of your fingers, parting them to physically undo the remaining buttons of your shirt.

Taking a moment to feel your bare chest behind your shirt, Wonyoung closes her eyes. She’s wearing a light yet aroused expression on her face—and she’s only touching you. You’re barely scratching the surface of how dirty you can get.

“Oh, that feels really good,” she coos, breathing heavily, her cheeks flustered and flushed bright red.

You caress her cheek, snap her from this haze. “You haven’t finished undressing me yet.”

In that moment, her eyes pop wide open, embarrassed in feeling herself so soon. “I’m sorry. This is all brand new to me. Our species don’t breed. We’re asexual—”

“Shush.” You place a finger between her lips. “We don’t talk a lot during sex.”

She mouths directly into your finger as if it were a microphone, speaking with a dash of urgency. “Then please show me. Guide me through this.”

“Of course.”

Planting both your palms on her cheeks, you finally muster up the strength to do something you never thought you’d ever do: kiss Wonyoung straight on the lips. It’s as romantic as you’ve imagined in your wildest fantasies. While you put all your passion into it, she remains frozen in place, unsure of how to react or what to do next.

You take notice, drawing back. “Do you feel it?”

“Feel what?” Wonyoung blinks again, her movements robotic.

“You’re supposed to reciprocate your partner’s feelings,” you tell her, placing your hands on her shoulders. “When I kiss you, give yourself a moment to let it simmer.”

She’s slowly nodding her head, listening intently to every word you say.

“Now are you ready?” You’re staring into her eyes, twinkling in the dark. You notice her head strengthening, determined to get it right this time.

“Yes. Please kiss me.”

And you’re more than happy to oblige. You grab her by the nape, slip your tongue between her lips this time. More than simply teaching her, you’re living out your innermost desires through Wonyoung. There’s so much electricity, you’re kissing her like your life depends on it. The sensation consumes you: tasting her sweet lips, pull her as close as you possibly can.

As you peek through one eye, you catch Wonyoung relishing in the moment too. Mirroring your hand, she’s gently tugging you close to her, your bodies dangerously close to intertwining. Her kiss feels incredibly warm, irresistible to the touch. Humming between your lips, you sense her fingers clutching deep into your scalp, wrestling for control over you.

A few more seconds interlocked and you would have pushed her hard against the wall.

Tumbling out of the kiss, you’re gasping for air, taken by surprise at how good Wonyoung is. It shouldn’t be; her lips are naturally designed to be smooched, to be felt.

“So what now?” Wonyoung leans back against the wall, still looking innocent and angelic.

You answer through action: coat, pants, shoes, and boxers quickly come flying off your body as you quickly undress before her. She takes a moment to stare you down intently, especially making your erection a point of emphasis. It should feel awkward, but it isn’t; if anything, you feel comfortable baring yourself like this.

Wonyoung pulls down one of the straps of her body-hugging dress, followed by the other. Gravity does the rest. Letting it fall down her slender legs, she’s reduced to—nothing. Only bare, naked flesh.

You can’t help but mutter out your thoughts to the wind. “God, you’re so fucking perfect.”

Likewise, you take a moment to drink in the sight of Wonyoung’s naked presence. You could honestly let her stand there and do nothing, and she would still end you every time. The thought greatly arouses you, your hand instinctively grabs your cock, begins slowly stroking right in front of her.

God, you really feel shameless right now. Your vision blurs, her presence far too divine to comprehend.

“What are you doing?” she curiously asks, puzzled—and a little amused—by your strange action. Her demure expression only serves to stir you further.

“Ah. Shit. I can’t help it,” you mutter, vacantly keeping your gaze at Wonyoung, mockingly shaking your wrists, playing coy to the fact she’s seemingly naive to your deepest intentions. Leading her back to the bed, you command her, “Get on your knees.”

She’s certainly pliant, down to do anything you say without a complaint. You take as many mental pictures of the scene: the prettiest idol on Earth, kneeling lowly before you, your cock inches away from her face. An unforgettable sight.

“You see this?” Pointing at your hard cock, aiming in the direction of her pretty lips. “I want you to put your lips between them.”

The instruction sounds ridiculous to her ears. “You want me to—kiss your penis?”

You nod your head, reaffirming your stance. “Yeah. Also, just call it cock for me, please.”

Wonyoung takes a moment, hesitant to follow through. You can wait as long as she wants, cupping her cheek and tilting her face up to meet yours. “Tell me if it’s too much. I won’t hurt you. Promise.”

Your little reassurance gives her the strength she needs.

The tip of her tongue peeks out, carefully approaching the bottom side of your shaft, shaking the closer it gets. The initial point of contact makes her flinch, pushes her away, jerks you violently onto the mattress. You barely manage to hold yourself together. If this is only a tease, you can imagine how the real thing would be like.

Then she tries again, swallowing up what fear she has left—and everything clicks.

The moment her lips part, making way for your tip, you almost lose control. It takes every last bit of your resolve not to unload right then and there. The sweet sensation of her lips feels even better on your cock than against your mouth. You’ve never felt this much ecstasy till now.

Slowly but surely, as her mouth fills itself with cock, her cheeks hollowing out, poking through her throat, she immerses herself in the feeling of taking you deep. Her nose is poking against your shaft; her bottom lip kissing the underside of your length. Little pleasing sucking noises escape her lips.

It’s powerful enough to make you question your knees’ ability to stay upright. A fistful of her hair is your only lifeline here.

Even in this unorthodox manner, Wonyoung seems to have a natural way to overwhelm your senses. But like always, she manages to straighten herself out, and gets to properly using your cock. All she needs is a single touch for her to understand everything.

Soon, she’s all over the place. Releasing you from her mouth at random intervals, stroking you with her deft, slinky fingers while twisting and licking every inch of your cock, before popping them back inside with the lewdest expressions imaginable. All this insane suction builds a violent, twisting knot in your stomach. It gets to a point where your groans of pleasure muffle her gentle hums of satisfaction.

You want her to stop, to keep her from ending you so soon. But the bliss is far greater and worth the early tradeoff. She appears so committed to the act, that interrupting her would be utterly disrespectful. Especially when your cock is so deep inside her throat, that unloading inside that mouth would be its deserved reward.

So you cling on. Cherishing the little glimpses of Wonyoung sucking you dry, relishing in what little you catch for as long as you can, because you know you’re on borrowed time.

“Fuck—so fucking—good—fucking—amazing—shit—” you sputter, watching her bob up and down your shaft, shooting you a stare back, seeking for approval, which you’d happily give—if you weren’t drowning in bodily pleasure. It’s unbelievable how natural she moves, as if she never needed help to begin with.

As your vision narrows, the only thing left that remains are blurs, flashes, vague images and sloppy sounds. Of brown eyes. Of dark hair. Of plump, swollen lips. Any moment now, she’s gonna get it. The friction builds, and builds, and builds, until—

“Wait.”

It’s the loudest thing heard in the room.

Wonyoung releases her velvety grip, but not without delivering one more parting shot: a slide of her tongue down to your base. You feel your whole world spiraling beyond comprehension.

At least you can save what little authority you have left.

Then you look at her, her face smeared in shades of you, and you’re already regretting not going all the way.

Too late for that, too late for everything. Your mind goes blank, unable to form a coherent train of thought, much less say a word.

Silence fills the room, with Wonyoung continuing to stare wide daggers at your soul, waiting in anticipation. Her breath barely a tickle against your skin, but still dangerously hot, sending chills all over your spine.

More importantly, she clears the fog in your head.

So you scoop Wonyoung off the floor, her slender legs wrapping themselves around you, then fall back onto the bed. Leaning back on the headboard, guiding her on top of your lap, making her straddle your waist, letting her above you. Her lips close the gap between you, sinking into you with a deep, passionate kiss.

The rest of the night could only be kisses and tender cuddles, and you would feel satisfied.

But as you spread your thighs wide, the pressure between you thickening, she leans to your ear, and gives you a simple request: “Let me feel every inch of you.”

In that voice—in that low, hushed, lethal tone—it’s a miracle you don’t come undone on the spot.

Bracing herself on your shoulders and chest, Wonyoung stares directly into your eyes as she sinks onto your lap. Taking her sweet time, leaving you on edge for a few tense minutes.

You never see it coming, no matter how heightened your senses are. Her eyes go shut; her mouth hangs, slowly goes slack, releasing a deep, prolonged moan. “Fuck.”

Slowly pressing into your clutch, ensuring every inch of your cock fills her cunt. She makes you throb uncontrollably as she bottoms out, muttering these quiet sighs and little gasps.

Reduced to nothing but ragged breaths, Wonyoung moves incredibly slow, like you’re both at a standstill. Carefully feeling every inch, every single pulse, every twitch of your cock resting deep in her pussy. You take lease of her back, then her tiny waist, running your hands over her skin, fitting so comfortably in your clasp, admiring her immaculate form.

Not once has your gaze ever left Wonyoung’s pretty face. You take note of all the fine details; every scrunch, every nerve, every shift on her lips, the flush running all over her features, and she conveys herself so easily. Though tense, you can tell she’s acclimating well, relishing the sensation of your cock deep inside her.

Your fingers burrow deep into her waist, inducing some pressure to make her move faster. And she does. Gets into a slow, steady rhythm, gently bouncing on your lap, giving you a glimpse of your cock disappearing and reentering her cunt. Little squats that ripple through your skin, making music of your flesh slapping hers. Spilling slick that spreads over your thighs. She’s so tight, and so positively dripping.

“Oh God—oh shit—” you mutter, resting your head on her lithe chest, admiring the view right beneath her head. You’ve almost forgotten she’s an alien with how well she fucking rides you.

“Should I stop?” Wonyoung asks, slowing her hips to a near crawl.

“No no. Keep going.” You look up at her, kissing on her neck, your bodies entangled in a passionate embrace. The bed begins to rock as she picks up the pace in return, crashing against your cock in violent waves that push your willpower to its absolute limit. “You feel so fucking incredible, Wonyoung. So fucking good—”

Even as you’re drowning in rapturous ecstasy, you get a sense that her face is loosening into a smile at your comment. You’re leaving marks on her neck and her collarbones—marks that will never truly disappear, even if she washes them away.

Her body, on the other hand, is going erratic. Rough. You lean back, content to watch helplessly as she rides herself to oblivion. Her fingers dig into your belly, forming small punctures in your skin. Fucking the words out of her mouth freely, throwing caution to the wind: “Fuck—fuck me—I love it—”

You can’t take it anymore.

Still, you try to endure, to stave off the knot in the pit of your stomach, desperate to savor what little time you have left. At the rate you’re going, Wonyoung’s going to incapacitate you a new one. Brain full of static, it’s only a matter of when, not if. Gears turning everywhere in your body, vision blurring out again, a familiar sight—

And it ends abruptly, just like that.

Balls deep in her cunt, your loud groan bounces around the four walls of this tiny bedroom, with Wonyoung sinking herself down to your hilt. Her chest heaving, your breaths heavy, it’s all too much. The hefty load of cum you blast inside her is alarming. Spilling onto the sheets, onto your thighs, keeping you bound together to the soul.

After quite the experience, Wonyoung’s all rosy cheeks and sweet smiles. As if she didn’t just give you the best orgasm of your life.

She carefully shifts herself off your lap. Thick streaks of your cum keep your bodies together, until they gradually break apart. Staring at the ceiling is the only way you’ll make sense of this, and even after, you don’t know whether you’ll regret it or not.

“I don’t sleep,” she says, and that’s all you needed to hear.

You cup her cheek, kiss her, and climb over her as you start making out into the dead of night.

—————

“We have to go.”

Wonyoung’s voice stirs you awake from deep slumber. Hours have gone by and the last thing you remember is kissing her on the couch between your last orgasm. Opening your eyes, you’re greeted by the bright silhouette of her slim figure draped in a white bathrobe leaning forward in front of the window, peeking through the curtains.

Gathering your bearings, you join her in scouting the situation. It’s dire. Half a dozen black vehicles parked outside the hotel with sunglasses-wearing agents asking everyone about seemingly suspicious activities, backed by men in hazmat suits wielding some kind of extraterrestrial radar technology similar to the one your friends were using.

Then you turn to one of the clocks, and realize you’re already 30 minutes late to the meeting point.

You face Wonyoung with a look of great concern and unease. “Shit.”

There’s no time to waste; your friend has already sent a few texts saying he’s already at the rendezvous as recently as 20 minutes ago. Going down to the lobby through the main points would be the stupidest decision you’ll ever make, and you’ve had your fair share of blunders. The last thing you’d ever want to happen is for Wonyoung to use her powers and blow your already failing cover, so that option is off the table too. The only way you’ll both make it out in one piece is through one of the fire exits and marked escape points.

“I don’t think your powers are gonna get us out of here,” you tell her, hastily packing what little belongings you have. “And I think it’s for the best that you don’t use them.”

“How come? Just give me a chance. I promise I won’t mess everything up.”

“How do you think they know we’re here?” you question her, unconvinced with the idea that she can somehow control her powers overnight. “It’s because they’re aware of your presence. Two random incidents of a similar nature happening overnight?”

“They were both accidents, okay? I’ve got it under control. Trust me.”

You still don’t buy it, insisting she keep her powers in check, at least for now. “Fine. But only when I tell you to. And only when I tell you to. Got it?”

Wonyoung nods, delighted that she’s gotten through you—even a little.

Taking the girl with you, you slip into the nearest fire exit of your hotel room’s floor, scurrying down the stairs as fast as you can.

By the time you reach the ground floor, you learn from Wonyoung that the exits are a labyrinth in and of themselves. You can be found anywhere at any given time. Your safety comes at a difficult choice: to rely on blind luck, or to give her the green light to use her powers.

Turning to Wonyoung, you can see her pleading with her eyes. To let her do her thing. The risk is far too great given the circumstances. And God knows if they’ve got an elaborate plan to isolate her and capture her, making your escape efforts all for naught. Nevertheless, you have to act quickly.

Backed into a corner, you give her a little nod, the signal she needs to shine.

And Wonyoung truly shines. As in, she tells you to cover your eyes before emitting a powerful flash of energy bright enough to cover a several mile radius. Even through your hands, the light proves to be blinding. Even as the dazzling gleam gradually fades out, you find it difficult to see, let alone walk straight.

Then you feel a sharp tug of your hand, your feet dragging along by its pull, before you realize what’s going on and you just start running. No other thoughts, only run, run like your life really depends on it. Eventually, your eyes meet daylight, and your sense of sight is properly restored.

She did it. Wonyoung got you both out of there completely unscathed. And she doesn’t collapse, doesn’t faint like she usually does after exerting herself. A miracle.

“What did you do?” you ask her, to which she replies with a gummy smile:

“Kept all their electronics and radars down for a while. Give or take, I’d say we have 30 minutes to an hour. They didn’t know what hit them, and they never will.”

That’s more than enough time for you to make your way to the rendezvous point on foot a few blocks away.

She turns herself into her liquid form, disappearing right before your eyes, but not without giving a request that you’re more than willing to do. “Lead the way.”

—————

You find your friend waiting by the restaurant’s entrance, bored out of his mind with all the waiting. He immediately spots you and rises from his seat, visibly frustrated. The poor guy went out of his way to travel from the countryside at your behest. “Man where the fuck were you? I’ve been here for almost an hour.”

“Sorry,” you tell him, pausing to catch your breath after all the running, your legs sore and aching. You’re still human, after all. “Got held up on the way. You know how it is.”

“Never changed after all this time, eh,” he quips, shaking his head, a little cross. “I should have expected this.”

“Fuck off, dude,” is all you can say, patting him by the shoulder. “I’m just glad you came on short order.”

“So you’re all alone? I thought you said you had someone with you.”

Looking around, Wonyoung is nowhere to be found. You weren’t all that worried; if there’s anyone who could look after themselves, it’s most certainly her, but the slight possibility of her capture still creeps in your mind.

Then you see her emerge from behind the corner of the store, waving at both of you. She’s hiding her face behind your sunglasses, her favorite accessory. “Hey boys.”

“Is that her?” Your friend points a finger at the woman, taken by surprise. “I didn’t know you finally had a girlfriend.”

You laugh the comment off. It was only a one night stand, you’re telling yourself. “She’s—not my girlfriend.”

“Really?” It sounds too good to be true, especially when he looks at her, a perfect match. “She’s certainly your type, all right. How long have you been dating?”

Nervously laughing, you struggle to answer right away. “Well—it’s only been—”

“Two days.” Wonyoung answers for you.

“Two days?” Your friend pops an animated expression, taken aback by the response. “No wonder my boy is down horrendous. My man got into his first relationship and already wants to take her for a cross country road trip.”

She smiles. Regardless of the situation, the one constant is the reassuring gleam of her lips. The moment it disappears, you know something has gone wrong.

Amused by his own remark, his ego partially stroked seeing that he’s made Wonyoung snicker, he hands you the key to his car, a four-door estate wagon. “I’ll need him back in seven days. Grandma’s gonna be mad if she finds out it’s not in her garage.”

That’s more than enough time for you to let the heat around you die down. Perhaps find the answers to many of your burning questions, and maybe change Wonyoung’s mind.

Giving him a friendly dap and a hug, you nod. “Thank you. Really.”

“Hey hey, no need to act soft in front of your girl,” he jests, turning his gaze to the woman, smirking, before facing you again. “Just don’t wreck the thing, all right? Especially after what happened to your apartment.”

He can’t help himself from poking fun at you when you’re already down. Even though it’s only been a day, the apartment explosion feels like a lifetime ago.

Hopping into the driver’s seat, Wonyoung waves your friend goodbye as you drive off, his shape shrinking smaller before disappearing entirely as she looks through the side-view mirror. The destination? Only God knows where. Even when she asks, you simply brush her aside, turning on the radio to keep the mood inside the car less awkward. One thing’s for certain: you’re never coming back here again.

So you drive. As much as you can, only stopping for the occasional refuel. The farther you go, the safer. It’s the only way you can keep Wonyoung safe. From cities to highways, from crowds to empty roads. Eventually you no longer get reception on your phone, rendering all forms of communication impossible. Hours pass; day turns to night. Wonyoung opens the sunroof to get a clear view of the starry skies, the pass of comets and shooting stars.

They’re calling to her. Her eyes gleam and dilate, as if the cosmos is speaking to her.

Pulling over at an empty motel, you can’t quantify how far you’ve traveled. But seeing as you’re surrounded by nothing but desert, you figure that’s enough distance to go off-radar. As you try to walk in, Wonyoung remains staring upward, stuck in one of those deep states again.

You call out her name, but to no response. A few moments later, she seemingly snaps from her daze, turning to you, but without saying a word.

Looking up to the stars, you ask her what’s going on. As you did to her earlier, she brushes your concerns aside, telling you there’s nothing to worry about and to focus on settling down for the night.

So you get yourselves a room, unsurprisingly with only one bed. Seeing as Wonyoung herself said she needs no sleep, you figure you can rest easily.

But you can’t. Not when Wonyoung’s cuddled up so close against you, your eyes only fixated on each other. With your gazes alone, you’re both saying a lot without uttering anything at all. She makes the first move, a quick peck of your lips, before immediately pulling away, and just like that, you’re completely disarmed.

Both of you being near naked already makes it easier.

You like Wonyoung when she bounces on your lap, gently moaning between hops and thrusts, every part of her ripped to shreds as you fuck her. She loves it when you run your fingers down her slender frame, brushing her long flowing dark hair, kissing her tummy and chest, taking solace in her warmth. Her pussy fits you like a glove—perfectly snug, perfectly yours. You love it when she’s making these incomprehensible sounds in your ear, delivered in the most saccharine tone you’ll ever hear. She loves it when you tell her she feels so fucking good, so fucking tight—loves it when you gasp in desperation, unable to break free from suffocating hold, resulting in your rapturous climax.

And it hits. Sends devastating shocks all over your body.

“God—please, let me cum all over that face—” you rasp, using the last of your willpower before your orgasm fully consumes you, calling to her gracious side, but to no avail. Wonyoung takes you for every drop you’re worth, riding you hard while you lean back on the headboard, staring down her tight figure, her stomach contracting between every crash of her hips on yours. She’s so consumed by pleasure to hear you, her eyes shut, biting down on her lip to keep herself muted as she keens out cries of ecstasy.

Even as your cock withers, she can’t bring herself to stop, instead using her powers to spring you back to life for longer. Her lust completely swallows you whole, so much so that you eventually fold and share in her passion, using each other’s bodies till you both give out and keel over.

—————

The day after, as you’re about to leave and drive to who knows where, Wonyoung grabs your hand and stops you. “We should go here,” she says, pointing out a specific area on the vehicle’s GPS. In what appears to be the middle of nowhere, being several hundred miles away.

“How come? We can’t drive there overnight,” you tell her. In a faster car, it’s possible, but your friend’s family wagon wasn’t built for speed.

“That’s fine. We don’t have to hurry, we just have to get there in 5 days.” She uses the built-in GPS to measure the average distance and speed required to reach her intended destination, and you see she’s right again.

You finally put two and two together, realizing this is where she’ll likely be picked up by her fellow aliens. You obviously don’t tell her that you know, because you know it’ll be best for you to keep silent about the matter. And if they leave without a hitch, it’ll most certainly mean you can return to a normal life sooner. You’re already dreading the days ahead. When she’s no longer with you, you’ll have nothing to lean on. Thinking about living without her bothers you greatly. At some point, you might try to change her mind and make her stay. You recognize that for your own sake and hers, it’s best that you part ways, but it doesn’t change the fact that letting go hurts. Maybe there’s a better solution that doesn’t involve having to say goodbye.

So keep those thoughts in the back of your mind, only focusing on the now. Making the most of her presence while she’s still around, but still keeping other options on the table.

The next few days follow a near-identical pattern: you drive nonstop, only pulling over for fuel, until you reach the next rest area by nightfall. Every night spent with Wonyoung is exploring each other’s bodies, putting her in positions you never thought you’d ever be doing with your favorite idol. At this point, you’ve deluded yourself into thinking it’s the real her, especially as she’s come and fully adjusted herself to earth’s culture, finally nailing her mannerisms and speech. Whatever you want to do, she happily obliges. Whether it’s on the desk, in the shower, on her knees, between her legs, or from behind—for anything and everything, Wonyoung willingly submits. It doesn’t help that her powers keep you up all night, and you’ve never felt any better waking up every single morning than with her by your side.

For the first time in your life, you feel like there’s someone who truly cares. Someone who makes you feel special, makes you feel alive. Now you understand that this was a fated encounter, destiny coming to pass. Intentional or not, she was meant to provide something meaningful: a purpose.

The realization hurts. You’ve already accepted that you have to let her go. You know that when she leaves, you’ll be left with nothing. And that makes it worse.

While Wonyoung sleeps peacefully in your arms, you give her a soft peck on her temple, gently brushing loose strands of her hair. Looking at her sweet face, you can’t help but start sobbing. Fighting back the tears as the end draws near, remembering what your friend said, to keep a cool face while she’s around—

But you can’t.

Your quiet sobs go unnoticed. Looking out the window from the bed, the sky appears dark and gloomy, with bright flashes of lightning passing between clouds.

The earth is going to cry on your behalf.

—————

You’re wishing the days lasted longer, but here you are, pulling up at the intended destination with hardly any drama. Like most of where you’ve been travelling these past few days, everywhere you look is nothing but empty desert and the occasional tree, even down to the tumbleweeds. As it turns out, you’ve arrived a few hours ahead of schedule. That’s what happens when you’ve been driving on empty roads. Admittedly, it’s a nice change of pace compared to the city. Less noise, less annoying people on the streets.

“So this is it, right?” you ask Wonyoung as both of you are stepping out the car, searching for any signs of life. Nothing. You might be the only two people to have ever willingly stepped foot on this place, considering this doesn’t even have a name on any GPS, map, or on Google Earth.

She nods in agreement.

“We’re just gonna wait here until something happens, right?” you add, almost slipping out the notion that you know she’s going to leave.

Having gone a few steps ahead of you, Wonyoung looks over her shoulder, catches you leaning by the car’s hood. “You’re going to miss me a lot. I will too.”

Your eyes go wide. Of course she knew all along. Either that or you’ve never been the best at keeping secrets.

“So what happens after? Will you try to exterminate all of us?”

“Truthfully, I have no clue.” Wonyoung turns around and approaches you. “We may be an invasive species, but we do not act until our judge gives his word to attack. But the chances of us sparing a planet? Next to none.”

“So you’re saying the odds are low, but not zero,” you remark, finding some solace in the fact. You’ve seen miracles happen, and you’re not referring to her.

She takes her place beside you on the car’s hood, drawing out a pair of sunglasses from the pocket of her pants. The same ones you’ve given her. Putting them on you, she says, “Protect your eyes, babe.”

Even now, Wonyoung makes you smile. Under her watchful eye and with her powers, she makes sure you’re not burning up under the sweltering sun. The last memory she wishes to impart with you is a reminder of all the good experiences you’ve shared with her. That in the end, she’s about as close to the image you’ve envisioned in her head.

No matter how distant she may be, you belong to her and she belongs to you. Your love for Wonyoung stretches out wider than anything in this universe.

Eventually the sun sets, and day turns to night. The entire time, you’ve never let go of Wonyoung—not until she says so, and she’s more than comfortable staying in your arms. You could honestly cuddle up with her like this no matter how long, God willing. She’s all you need to feel complete.

As the stars in the night sky come out in full force, Wonyoung gently disentangles herself from you as her body glows with a familiar pinkish light. Putting some distance away from you, she begins levitating off the ground. Large waves of dust begin to spiral in a circular direction, separating you further from her. You can’t see through the cloud of dirt other than her bright gleam inside the widening cloud.

Wonyoung floats higher and higher above the ground, met in the air by a faint silhouette in the shape of a UFO. It uncloaks itself and reveals its massive size, larger than the average commercial aircraft in every department. She gradually transforms into a form more resembling the aliens you’ve seen in other media; an incomprehensible silhouette of clear white energy.

Though you can barely fathom Wonyoung’s appearance, you can tell she’s looking down at you as her and the spaceship rises even higher. No matter how much you’ve been preparing for this moment, you’re still not ready to say goodbye.

All of a sudden, you hear gunshots. Ear-deafening pops and crackles. The roar of other vehicles quickly approaching. You look, and a half-dozen black SUVs are moving angrily towards the direction of the ship, with agents firing from their vehicles. Right on their trail are a pair of white vans. Stopping a few feet from where you’re standing, men in hazmat suits emerge from the vehicles and quickly grab hold of you, pinning you to the ground.

One of the men in biohazard suits is holding that same alien exposure radar you’ve seen before. “Dangerous levels of extraterrestrial radiation,” he remarks, evaluating his finding on a tiny screen. “You have no idea what kinda threats we’re facing. Who knows what these aliens have already done to you.”

Another agent is holding what appears to be a deadly weapon with the intent to kill. “Nothing personal, but this is for the good of our planet.”

There’s a lot happening all at once. On one hand, the alien is still high above the ground, seemingly frozen mid-air, along with their spaceship. On the other, you have several dozen government agents from an unknown branch trying to shoot the two entities down. And then there’s you, moments away from becoming forgotten forever because you spent a whole week with said alien.

You never wanted any part of this.

As the agent prepares to strike you down from behind, the bright glow in the sky flashes a blinding, colorful gleam of energy, drawing everyone’s attention—including yours. The alien descends down to earth by herself. Transforming into Wonyoung, her eyes gleam bright white, her body surrounded by a wave of power.

One of the commanders shouts to his men to open fire at her, but she takes no damage from any of their weapons. She lifts her hand, creating a pulse that sends everyone flying back, helping you escape your captor’s binds.

She steps forward and approaches you as you get up from the ground, but the agents won’t quit. Without concern as to you getting caught in the crossfire, more weapons are used, but she casually generates a force field around herself.

Her body is charging up with a colorful flash of energy, threatening to destroy them all. The only thing keeping her from ending everyone’s existence is your voice calling out to her.

“Stop. Please.”

In that moment, she sees you running toward her, and the fiery glow surrounding her weakens.

Suddenly, a loud bang rips through everyone’s eardrums. It’s a bullet aimed toward her, except your head is standing in the way.

Mere inches from ending your life, time comes to a complete standstill. Including you.

Wonyoung floats over to you, sees the tears in your eyes, your mouth wide, crying out in desperation. To keep her from going down a dark path. She interlocks your hand with hers, placing her lips against your ear, giving you a gentle kiss.

It’s a bittersweet sound. “Goodbye.”

The last thing you see before your world goes dark is a radiant flash of light. A glimpse of heaven.

—————

You expected paradise to be a land flowing with milk and honey, not a sandy beach along the coastline.

You also expected no pain, no more suffering, not a mild headache as you wake up. So no, you’re not there just yet. But this place might be the closest heaven can be on Earth.

The sun shines directly overhead as you wander around aimlessly in your new surroundings, confused and still reeling from whatever happened in your dream. Luckily, there’s civilization nearby, people included. A welcome sight for sore eyes.

Approaching a man who appears to be waiting for a bus, you go on and ask him, “Do you know where we are?”

He looks at you as if you’re a crazy person for asking such a question. “Eh? You don’t look like you’re from around here. We’re in Lagos, man.”

“Lagos?” Your eyes widen at the response, as equally as confused as he is. The bus arrives in time for him to leave you high and dry, but you follow him inside, still trying to make sense of where you are.

You ask the bus driver the same question. He gives you the same answer. You really are in Lagos. In a completely different country. A stranger in a strange land.

Upon arriving at the nearest town, you try to give the driver his fare, only to realize you’ve got the wrong currency on hand. But you still pay anyway, nonchalant about the amount, hoping off before he gets a chance to question you.

Soaking in the sights and sounds, the locals are conversing in a language you can’t understand. Even the signs are also a challenge to read. Why you’ve been transported here, you have no idea.

But not all hope is lost. Mercifully, the ATM you find still happens to be completely English. Checking your savings account, you can’t help but stagger back at how much money’s left. It’s more than enough to set you for this life and in the next.

In any other circumstance, you would have been pinching yourself, trying to wake up from this fantasy. But it’s not a dream. This is reality.

You’re in a better place compared to yesterday.

—————

It doesn’t take long to acclimate to your new life.

You learn the native language. You open up a small bakery in the heart of the city. The locals quickly accept you as one of their own; you’re in good company. For the first time in a long time, you feel at home.

When you’re not working in the city, you spend your nights staring at the beautiful sky. The little house you’ve bought resting on the hillside is ideal for stargazing. It also helps that Lagos is still a quaint, humble city compared to the metropolises of yesterday. Every now and then, a shooting star flies by; you’re wishing one of them is her.

You’d happily trade it all for a heartbeat. Just one more opportunity to see her again.

Several months go by. You read the announcement: she’s coming to Portugal for the first time, bringing the rest of the group along with her. It’s been a while since you’ve seen her in concert, so of course you’ve already got the day and date marked on your calendar, as well as the best seats in the house.

She’s still the same person you’ve envisioned in your head after all these years.

At points, you get a sense that she recognizes you with her occasional passing glances. Brief moments in time where you’re taken back: moments that you’ve never forgotten, not in the slightest. But that’s what they ultimately are: fleeting glances.

She may not even be looking at you to begin with. Still, a guy can dream.

After the show ends, you’re ready to move on. Live your life like everyone else. You’re no longer fettered by the past; you’re going to leave it all behind. Everything is new.

As you’re about to open the door to your car, you hear a gentle, familiar voice calling to you.

“Hey.”

You turn around. What you see leaves you completely stunned. Lo and behold, it’s Wonyoung. The real Wonyoung. Live and in living color. Smiling, standing a few feet away by herself, carrying an air of sweet innocence.

You can’t help but drop your car keys.

“I don’t think I know you, but I feel like I should." She picks up the keys off the ground, placing them back into your hand. "Let me get to know you.”

—————

(A/N: In case you're wondering where I've been for a month, it's because of this! This is the longest fic I've ever written, clocking in at barely under 15K words. I've had this idea of a first contact/alien story ever since Supernova Love released (the song and Wonyoung herself fits the tone/concept I was looking into, a godly being not from this planet), so this has been in the works for quite some time. I got way too invested in the story that the smut ended up half-baked, but I hope you enjoy the overall narrative regardless. I considered just posting this without the smut (as I had written the whole plot and edited before even writing a single word of smut, but still wanted to add some fanservice XD). Anyway, I'm looking forward to IVE Empathy; not a big fan of Rebel Heart, but knowing IVE, their title tracks never miss.)

(I'd like to give special thanks to @msafterhours for helping me with the ending, as well as offering general advice in fixing the narrative; this is my favorite fic I've written since Too many nights in part due to the greater emphasis I placed on the plot and characters. Thank you for reading!)

#kpop smut #ive smut #wonyoung smut #ive #wonyoung

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g1rlken · 6 days ago

Text

Last golden thoughts

Bucky Barnes x fem!exwife reader

*follows the original thunderbolts plot line and thunderbolts!Bucky

Warnings: minor spoilers, mild swearing, angst?

Word count: 4.7k+

summary: Congressman Barnes’ marriage did not end for the better only for his paths to cross again with his ‘wife’ in the most unpleasant fashion where he last expected her to be

an: you guys went crazy over this so I had to finish this in two days we are sooooooo back

—

As red guardian’s fancy, gaudy and however bulletproof-ish limousine made a flip at Bucky’s detonator. The relieved group of delinquents inside were overcome with shock, bracing themselves for the fall, gripping handles tightly as the surprisingly present airbags opened in their faces. Ghost was the first one out evidently being more equipped to exit in the blink of an eye. Others fell with a thud a collective ache in everyone’s joints, groaning trying to find their way out ever so impatiently. Ghost broke the door open as Bucky was getting closer. In the front seat red guardian needed most strength to be extracted out of the vehicle.

By then Bucky had reached with a task at hand, Ava and Yelena focused more on trying to get red guardian out, “Not cool man” Alexei said in his heavy accent to the long haired who they’d assumed was here to help them.

With a swift tug with his metal arm Bucky pulled the backseat door right off its hinges, before he could lean John was already on his way out, the person following John out made his eyes widen. “You?!” He exclaimed putting his hands on her shoulders instinctively but she brushed him off and got out herself. “Have you lost your mind?! Don’t tell me you were in the goddamn vault with these-“

Standing up on her feet instantly, trying to regain balance given her vision was a bit dizzy after going through a flipping car. “You lunatic-“ she lunged at him but she was still evidently dizzy and had weak steps, he easily dodged. “You could have gotten us all killed!”

“Stop, stop!” Bucky’s hands were surprisingly of a gentle grip on her shoulders yet again, wanting her to find her footing again. “Are you alright?” He asked scanning for major injuries, if he had known she was in the car he would approached in a way less reckless way.

“Get off of me-!” Taken aback by his might to just downplay the weight of the situation, falling into old habits like they were getting reunited or something.

“Husband mode eh?” Alexei commented with a snicker, Bucky took it well, someone else didn’t.

“He’s not my husband!” She barked almost instantly and pushed Bucky even further, even after he’d let go off her shoulders.

Another truck circled around them, “With me” Bucky told them expecting them to follow without much resistance was really some heavy wishful thinking.

The red guardian was already walking, a lot of faith in the metal armed man when Yelana stoped him by his arm, “And why should we just follow you after you crashed us?”

“Bucky you do realise you could get years for attempted murder on captain America-“ Jon was stopped mid sentence by the others taking an offence at him calling himself captain America and less bothered by the attempted murder.

“You were all being chased by trucks with machine guns and I’m sure more are on the way. This is the middle of nowhere if you have better options than getting in the truck you’re all very welcome to do so” Bucky said crossing his arms, the truck driver probably one of bucky’s favour agents got on his bike and left the truck for him.

Red guardian was the first to pitch in to agree with him, Yelena and Ava had their suspicions. “It’s the worse of two I suppose” Ava said with a sigh.

“It’s not like you have anything on us and we outnumber you so there’s that.” Yelana started walking as the rest followed, no obvious threat so far.

“If it’s our help you need Bucky you know you can just ask.” Walker said with his ever high confidence in himself, it never fails to be less staggering.

“Are you people actually considering this?!” Y/n was the only one who stayed put in her place not trusting everyone’s and especially bucky’s instincts to follow him into god knows where, “We can’t trust this man-“

“‘This man’ honey? Really?” Bucky quoted her absolute disregard for their history like he was some stranger she detested so much. He wasn’t walking back to the truck either, well aware of stubborn she was he was ready to let this play out for a while and eventually take matters, her, quite literally into his own hands.

“Don’t call me that!” The disgust on her face was as though he had committed at atrocity, the others had already started accommodating themselves in the truck for her to get her point across.

“You know all this anger really isn’t good for your health.” He told her, leaning a bit forward and she stiffened.

“You know what would be good for you? Letting me be” she told him uncrossing her arms and the last of her ‘loser’fest team were already walking into the truck.

“Why would you get yourself into this mess? You know you are better than this and please don’t tell me you were in the vault” it felt so natural to fall back into old habits for Bucky. The soft scolding with an undertone of concern and frustration. He didn’t miss this feeling of dread that he was yet again so close to losing her but he was grasping at straws into conversations with her, after the divorce she had blocked his number, locked their old apartment just recently because he kept finding reasons to visit her over and over. Even stopped all streaming subscriptions he couldn’t even work through without her so if this was the conversation he could make he’d take what he can get.

“You are the last person I’m answerable to.” She clarified him losing his keeping tabs privileges on her as their marriage fell. It was the least pleasant feeling to be harsh against anyone, even him, despite of what he did. But if it she acted even a bit less colder it would give him hope to no end. So she kept it up and walked across him, he stayed unmoving from her way and her shoulder brushed his somewhat rudely she didn’t even account it. He felt good about her casually striding against him as if his touch didn’t repel her anymore. Idiot.

Before she could climb into the back of the truck with the rest of them he stopped her getting inside himself first and swiftly started cuffing everyone, “hey what the hell” Yelena said struggling against him but those high tech binds were so swift she couldn’t retaliate in enough time.

“Come on Bucky you know me is this really necessary?” John scoffed trying to break free of the cuffs but or was no use.

“She was right” Ava said nodding at the woman standing outside the truck unfazed Bucky would pull this, trying to make the run for it into ghost mode but the cuffs kept her hands in place so she couldn’t even move forward in her projecting form.

“You, in the front” Bucky said looking back at her and she obviously defied it.

“Why?” She scoffed not wanting to walk into his plan after he literally cuffed all her acquaintances. “We are not your little evidential gifts against Valentina”

“She did try to kill you all” Red guardian chimed in as Yelena nodded about the fact.

“It doesn’t align with our principles if he is the one who turns us in, we could do it ourselves” the fact that ‘Congressman Barnes’ would get all credit for brining Valentina’s assets in after they risked their lives to get out really didn’t sit right with her.

“Why would we turn ourselves in at all?” Ava questioned not really into the idea of getting under oath whatsoever.

“Exactly. It is up to us what we decide not him” So glad the others saw her point at least now, despite of walking into getting themselves tied up.

“It really isn’t” he shrugged and pointed to another one of automobiles from vault’s base at a far distance. “Say no and I’d leave you all here to fend for yourself.” No one but her would be ready to call his bluff. He knew that she knew that too well that he would rather fight off nearly everyone in that truck than put her in harm’s way but he had to convince the others somehow and it seemed to work well enough as he got out of the back container to get into the driver’s seat.

“Why doesn’t she get tied up?” John questioned as she had to walk to the passenger seat on Bucky’s uncalled for demand.

“She is the missus!” Red guardian said stating the obvious and a shrug, already under the cool influence of Bucky to question it.

“They’re divorced” John pointed out

“Doesn’t seem like it was mutual” Yelena commented gaining a snicker from Alexei.

In the front, looking out the window as Bucky pushed it on the accelerator, “Where are we going?”

“New York” he answered her without much debate or resistance, if he were to recall there was never a time he could lie to her. He would never want to.

She didn’t have much questions to ask because she didn’t want to give answers to the ones he would ask back, not without consulting the rest anyways. Besides she would rather turn herself in than to afford another conversation with him. With a heavy sigh she looked out the window crossing her arms.

He looked in her direction, eyes softening despite the gravity of the situation they were in. The exhaust on her face was evident, “There are some pain killers in the cabinet.” He told her.

No response for her equated to her disinterest in taking them, he knew she hated any sort of antibiotics or meds just to push through her pain but it was worth the shot, as stubborn as she was he hates her open wounds. He opened the cabinet and got out the patching kit, whilst his other hand was still on the steering wheel. He opened the pack between his teeth and applied antiseptic on the patches, without asking he put it on her forehead where she’s seemed to have taken a bad hit. “Ow” she grumbled in pain but needless to say it was a required patchwork for the bleeding. “I’ve got it” she said taking it from his hand on her forehead into her own.

Her palms against his arm…he hadn’t felt it in so long. His hand was much larger in her comparison he’d always noted that. Being reminded of that again made him want to intertwine his fingers in hers and hope she could undo every moment he had to be away from her.

Eventually he took his hand away and put it on the driving clutch, even though it wasn’t a manual drive, he just couldn’t contain the life coursing through him after her hands touched him against. It’s these minuscule of interactions with her that gave him so much purpose. At first when he saw her in the flipped car he felt awful she was here in the first place but now he has her right next to him on the road to New York and he feels bad for wishing the miles are longer than they usually are.

“Hey this is not a manual drive” she was quick to pick that up when he didn’t take his hand off the clutch for a while being lost in thought, unrecovered from her touch.

“Oh” he nodded taking his hand off and back to the steering, “I know” he had to shift the conversation “You practised on our old manual when you were renewing your license right?”

“Your old manual was a good car” she said emphasising on ‘your’ given the fall out.

“I wonder why we let it go.” He was left bemused trying to remember what was the reason to let it go given it wasn’t a bad car.

“You wanted to let it go because it was taking up too much space in the garage after the engine got way too old to be repaired” She reminded him thinking back to it now, it had become an old junk but the two of them held onto it for quite a while. Working on it on the weekends, basically he’d work on it and she would keep the conversation. She had a joke that Bucky was pursuing his abandoned mechanic dream every weekend on that car, that black sleeveless vest top laying his biceps all bare and as hot as he was working on the engine she hated the grime and the smell of automobile oil, he would purposely encage her between his arms and kiss her all over, then shower together later. Snap out of it.

“Had a good run with it, it even had a cassette player system” Bucky looked at her but she wasn’t looking back at him. Clearing her throat she shifted in her seat, they got rid of that car before they had a conversation of getting rid of their marriage but maybe the forthcoming was evident.

“It didn’t have that you modified it that way because we had a lot of cassettes between us” she corrected him as her lips curled into a small smile.

“Oh right” he nodded mirroring her smile, it just happened with him involuntarily every time she smiled and this was his first time in a while. “I think I lost some from my set, I maybe have 10-12 tapes left which is crazy given my set had about a 100”

“How would you lose them you never took them out of the house?” She asked with a faux confused look on her face.

“Exactly! It’s like they just vanished” he told her shaking his head, “I think the house needs a bit going over for me to find them”

Just humming in response she leaned back in the seat as the two fell into silence again, it wasn’t comfortable but it wasn’t awkward either. Nostalgia was often ugly. Their minds were going through ugly sweet things, Bucky’s mind wasn’t going through nostalgia it was in its usual state: consistent reminiscing of their marriage. In his life he didn’t have much things to lose in the first place except for her, she was the last golden thoughts he could have before he’d sleep and the first before he’d wake up all day, everyday. He didn’t have much to think back to fondly but it changed when she walked out of his life.

As he drove through the terrains, glancing through both the side view mirrors then back at her, she had fallen asleep. Leaning against the window, her eyes closed with a completely serene expression on her face he hadn’t seen in so long. She had actually fallen asleep around him. The scene had a strange intimacy to him, the fact that her mind still considered him safe enough to fall asleep around. Even after all dodged calls and messages, all the get-outs, changing her ways to not come across him in the city, telling everyone her mistrust in ‘this man’ yet she could fall asleep with him at the wheel just like the old times.

When they reached the abandoned safe house Bucky didn’t deem it proper to wake her up when she was already so exhausted. The others tied up and over explaining the Bob situation did not let her absence go unnoticed “What did you do with her?!” Ava asked, high suspicions it wasn’t good.

“We should have listened when she told us to be careful about you, he probably left her back there” Yelena said with a scoff, such a decorated man stooping so low.

“Woah woah” Bucky was crazed at the fact that these people assumed that he would hurt her, of all people. “She is still in the truck, she was sleeping very soundly so I didn’t want to wake her up.”

The red guardian snickered, “A real lover!” He commented in a positive way.

“Grow a pair, Bucky” John scoffed leaning against his binds, the man was on the phone for a while and would’ve happily disregarded Walked’s comments anyways.

“Are you like the podcast men?” Alexei asked facing Walker.

“—What does that mean?”

“Toxic masculinity, not good, insecure—bad just bad, are you them?” Alexei listed off his

very accurate descriptions of men who run podcasts.

“Men who run podcasts aren’t all that” Walker said rolling his eyes at the man’s poor judgement of those guys. “Besides Bucky is not a real lover, he’s freshly divorced”

“Do you not see the wedding ring?” Alexei asked nudging in bucky’s direction, the thick gold band was hard to miss: by anyone.

“Probably just wears it because it’s real gold or something” which was a bit ironic because even as a separated husband he didn’t have one on.

“On his wedding finger?” Ava asked raising a brow as she indulged in the divorce too, tied up they had nothing better to talk about.

Before Yelena could pitch in her two cents too, Bucky got off the phone and started freeing the set of ‘thunderbolts’ out of their ties. Giving them a brief explanation of wanting to help Bob they were all on board, as they headed back down to the truck, it was empty. The back and the front, the highly trained ex assassin went full into visible panic mode with her out of sight. A specific drop of his heart only her absence could cause him to feel.

It was difficult trying to explain to the bunch of all-of-a-sudden-ride-or-dies god knows where she picked up from, that her husband of three years and counting with a small bump of divorce of four months would be the last person in this world to hurt her. However difficult it was he managed to get his point across and decided they were off to a detour before getting to Valentina’s HQs.

Once they loaded back in the truck he drove with determination to get where he had deduced he would find her. Their old apartment, she kept her original gear there. If there was one thing he knew about her she was to never back down from a fight, however big and impossible. That had been his biggest fright throughout their marriage, not a single bone in his body had moved on from.

Bucky thought he could fetch her back down himself but he thought wrong, apparently they did not trust him with her so all or thunderbolts went up the six story building. As expected the door was open, “How many times have I told you to keep this locked?” It really wasn’t difficult to fall back into old habits. Always leaving in a hurry, always forgetting to lock doors. He thought to himself but it wasn’t just about locking the door when he hoped the door was open.

“Again?!” She exclaimed walking out of the bedroom into the living fixing the belts around her gear, her old gear. The most trusted one. It was a superstition of hers really, Bucky knew it affected nothing no combat flexibility or space…it was just old. “How did you all not manage to lose him?”

“We didn’t know if you left or he did something” Ava filled her in about her doubting their capabilities to lose Bucky by choice.

“He wouldn’t.”

“—I wouldn’t!”

Both of them said at the same time.

To avert the sync she refocused on strapping her knives into her suit, in all places and possible belt gaps. “Hey, is that mine?” Bucky’s attention went to the set of two in her hands she was about to fixate.

“No it’s not.” Caught, she hurriedly tried to wrap it in her suit.

“Yes it is, those are mine!” He huffed; it had been a long while since he had to be in a position where he would need all his knives but he remembers and counts all the ones he’s had and he knew exactly which ones were missing, surprisingly right after the divorce. “That set is a wedding gift from Sam if I remember correctly!”

“Exactly! It was my wedding too I can keep them!” She stood her ground, well aware it was a set of two, one for him&her type but it was too beautiful to break the set and she wanted both those knives. He hadn’t noticed it this entire time.

“You don’t get to keep them both I get to keep one.” He argued, validly so. “I can’t believe you just took these both with you letting me know once”

“You never asked! All this time you kept coming at my place for the pillow covers, cushions-literally last month you knocked on my door because you thought I took the tv remote with me! You never asked about these” she pointed at the knives and somewhere along the lines both of them knew Bucky was just finding reasons to see her again and she was allowing it too.

“Wow” Yelena commented at the desperate measure. Given the time they were short on this bickering was too intresting to be stopped abruptly.

In the haste to keep the knives to herself in her suit dropped it, giving Bucky the leverage to pick it up and examine it. He bent down to get it and found stored cassettes in the coffee table. “You have got to be kidding me!” He exclaimed frustrated as he got out all the cassettes, he thought were missing. “You had these the whole time?!”

“—I must have packed them by mistake when I moved out” she shrugged trying to downplay how purposeful it was but he saw through it.

“These are all my classics, you didn’t even ask me before taking them in the settlement?!” Bucky huffed going through the tapes.

Cursing under her breath she face palmed herself, for some reason this day was getting way too long. “Look I know the divorce agreement never said-“

“I didn’t even read that” Bucky scoffed shuffling through the tapes he thought he had ‘lost.’

“You signed it without reading?” Surprised she raised her brows.

He put the box down on the coffee table and nodded with a shrug, making a mental note that he will come by at her place over and over for all the tapes and not just take them altogether. There were around 93 tapes in there which belonged to him. 93 excuses to see her. “It was you, I just trust you.”

“See!” Alexei cackled giving Walker a big pat on his back for being right about the lovers fact. “Very silver springs”

“Silver springs?” Yelena asked raising her brows at the refrence.

“Like the song.” Alexei spoke with his thick accent ‘Like zhe songh’ “Never get away from the sound of a woman that loved you” he even relayed the lyrics from the group, Ava nodding at the obvious relation.

“He still wears the wedding ring though” Yelena pointed out trying to frame the dynamics of who’s who for the song reference.

“He would be Stevie Nicks.” Ava clarified stating the obvious as Alexei smiled wide at her, nothing like someone getting the perfect reference.

“What the hell?” The ex wife in question did not take that insult lightly, she didn’t point it out all these months why he still kept wearing the wedding ring. “Real good manipulation tactics, Congressman Barnes.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” Bucky exclaimed unsure how he got under the bus even though the Silver Springs refrence say very right with him. Eire how that refrence came up when no one knew he’s been having sessions of that song in his car ever since she left.

“You need to take off that wedding ring and the whole oh-she-left-me boo hoo theatrics like it wasn’t a mutual decision!” She let out unable to keep it in after these months of heartbroken yet preserving congressman Barnes, all the press issues.

“You know it wasn’t.” Bucky shot back, “I just didn’t want to you to work for Valentina and look what you’re gearing up for! The woman who tried to incinerate you!”

“It was a miscalculation of the job I took up and I got myself alive out of that” it was so frustrating trying to debate this again.

“You chose working for her over me! Over our marriage!” Bucky’s voice grew a bit louder than when he said before and the others just witnessed this break out awkwardly.

“Shouldn’t we let them have this conversation privately?” John muttered looking for the cue to exit this scene.

“No.” Alexei, regardless of his fanboy tendencies towards Barnes, he was somewhat interested in witnessing this, he was the least tensed person in the room. Ava and Yelena didn’t want to exit for the sake of interjecting just in case.

“No I chose a life you couldn’t dictate!” She cried out just as intensely as his voice. “And do not put this on me as if you don’t know what you did.”

“I saved your life that day. Just like today.” Bucky said in a lower voice flatly. Very unbothered and cold to the notion of saving her life, it was such a given to him. She would put herself in such situations and he would just have to make do. Reckless with not much thought but he could always rely on himself to keep that head over her shoulder.

“You put me in danger that day!” The agony in her voice was so evident, “You let me work on that assignment for months and on the final day—you leaked my coordinates on purpose so that Congressmen Barnes can have the best packet, you wanted to Valentina dragged to court and you got that at my expense.”

Putting his arms on his hips; taking in a deep breath. It was planned yes, he gave the feds her location for the OXE group mission she was put on, he could have told her to never take up the job but it had already led to so many countless fights. She had helped him through his electoral campaigns, supported him through it all but it just wasn’t the right fit for her. Combat was all she had known life to be so far, so her let her have her gigs. However he didn’t realise she could also work for Valentina without much thought and by the time he could pitch in she had already accepted the joke. He could have stopped it then too, but he didn’t. There was a bigger gig for him in it, exposing his wife’s secret assignment is how he got Valentina into impeachment proceedings.

Bucky wasn’t proud of keeping it a secret from her the entire time she was working on that assignment but it didn’t prove to be non fruitful, “I am the one who had to bear the expense of you leaving because you didn’t have it in yourself to stay, you just ran. Like a coward. Like always.”

That was a poke at a really old wound, she wasn’t a habitual leaver but at times when stuff got emotionally thick her fight or flight response was not fight. The first time, before they were even together…she always stayed away and distant and after their job was done, Sam upholding the shield. She just left. Leaving everything between Bucky and herself to be unsaid and be lost in fragments of season he just went after her, got the girl and the resr was history. Wretched, domestic, sad, far, a marriage in their history. However she couldn’t stomach that, “You piece of shit-!” She lunged at him full force and he barely held up his defence. More than happy for her to have at it.

“Woah woah woah” Walker spoke as chaos erupted in the small living room itself, not even out in the field yet.

Yelena got a hold of her however Ava wasn’t into the idea of not letting her get her frustration out, Alexei pulled back away, “We are the thunderbolts. Thunderbolts don’t fight ourselves. Not like this.” He said as the fight seemed to break.

“I am no teammates with any of you, especially that man!“ anger still coursing through her she pointed at Bucky as Yelena kept swaying her farther.

“Yeah yeah I think he gets it” Yelena tried to soothe her anger down so he could move on from this outburst.

“Can we just move on with the task at hand?” Before John could even finish that sentence Bucky was walking out the apartment broodingly, slamming the door open out of his way.

She stayed in her place taking in a few deep breaths in order to process it fast enough as everyone left, Yelena stayed with her, nodding off to red guardian in a small look that said ‘I’ve got her.’ “You okay?”

“-Yeah…let’s just get going.”

Please let me know if this story is a drag…for some reason it seemed better in my head than this! Regardless tune in for final two if you liked it! ;)

tags: @blowingbarnes @pattiemac1 @scrumptiousloser @suffragette-cities @toaster-fork @accoochtrement @forthelovelyheart @western-nightss @itsmeamysworld @taniamunson @dakota-rain666 @seventeen-x @bvckys-doll

#bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #Bucky Barnes x ex!wife #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #Bucky Barnes x wife!reader #thunderbolts fanfiction #thunderbolts*#thunderbolts x reader #thunderbolts x you #Bucky Barnes thunderbolts

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lascvitae · 27 days ago

Text

❀ ༉ ‧ ₊ ˚ LIKE A FEVER

♯┆ you’re the coach’s daughter & karina is the skater who falls for you anyway. you were never hers to keep, but she loves you.

pairing. ice skater!karina x coach’s daughter!reader genre. friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending (thank faith bc yall almost didn’t get it), slow burn (kinda), mutual pining, forbidden love warning(s). cursing, cheating, kissing (making out), reader is in a failing relationship, this is a yearnfest man, coach is mean af, brief argument, suppressed emotions (karina my shayla 😔)

word count: 11k (this seems to be my limit chat)

“the more i hurt, the more i want you.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ katty ᥫ᭡: guysss when i tell you i sobbed while writing this like three times... (is an easy crier) but thanks for 600!!! (also i made a spotify playlist if you would like to listen while you read)

masterlist.

three weeks before regionals.

the rink is quiet this late at night.

you never even really plan to check on her. not really. you just happen to walk by the glass doors on most nights. most of the lights are off except for the spotlights above the center, casting shadows over the ice.

and there she was.

karina.

she was alone. as always.

the two of you weren’t very close, but you had conversations here and there. she was the type of person that focused on her passion more than anything else. it was admirable, really.

her movements were so sharp and precise. she was so clean it looked effortless. but you knew better. you knew the amount of hours she’s poured into every jump and every spin. you’ve heard the way your dad talks about her.

“she’s got the skill. but i need her to stop feeling so much.” he said once.

but you like it. the way she skates like there’s something breaking inside of her. that’s where the real beauty is.

you don’t reveal yourself at first. you just stand by the edge of the rink and pulled your coat tighter around your shoulders. the cold seeped in fast but you didn’t mind. not when you were watching her.

karina doesn’t notice you. or maybe she does and chooses not to look. she was always like that, distant but aware.

you wait until she finishes her routine, skates slowing to a stop in the center of the rink. she bends at the waist, catching her breath with hands on her knees.

that’s when you call out in a soft voice.

“your landing on the last combo was perfect.”

she was startled, head whipping toward the sound with wide eyes. her mouth parted like she was gonna say something, but then she just straightens and skates toward you quietly.

“i didn’t know anyone was here.” she says.

you hold up the water bottle in your hand. “i didn’t think you would still be here. but… i figured you forgot to bring this. again.”

she slows to a stop right in front of you, carving tiny shapes in the ice with her blades. you hand her the water bottle, fingertips brushing yours for a second.

“you always bring me water.” she mumbled.

“you never ask me not to.”

karina looks at you. there’s a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead. she stares quietly, face never leaving yours.

“i guess i like when you worry about me.” she says after a moment. and then she smiles.

you don’t say anything back. you can’t.

you end up sitting beside her on the bench near the edge of the rink. she unlaced her skates slowly, water bottle sitting between you.

“i didn’t mean to interrupt. you looked… kinda lost in it.” you say after a while.

karina glances up at you and tugs one skate off with a small grunt. “i always get like that when i’m alone. it’s easier to pretend that no one’s watching.”

“but someone always is.”

she freezes for a second and then her lips curl into a smile, an almost amused one. “yeah. like you.”

i’m not— i didn’t mean—”

“i don’t mind. i like when it’s you.” she cut in while shrugging.

you don’t know what to say to that, so you pretend to focus on something else. her shoulder was just barely brushing yours.

karina sighs. “coach is gonna kill me for staying this late.”

“he doesn’t have to know.” you laughed.

“is that the coach’s daughter helping me break the rules?” she turns to you with one brow raised.

“i won’t tell if you don’t.” you reply.

then there’s a pause. a long one.

then she speaks. “you’re always here.”

“so are you.”

“i have to be.”

“you don’t. not at this hour.” you argue.

karina looks down at her hands. “he says that i need more reps on my loop. and i can’t land it clean if i don’t fix my axis. so…”

she doesn’t finish the sentence. and you feel as if she doesn’t need to.

the silence returns. then, you carefully pull a pair of hand warmers out of your coat pocket.

you hold them out without saying a word.

“you… brought these?”

“i figured you would forget those too.”

she doesn’t take them right away. she stares at them then back at you. and when she finally reaches out, her fingers brush yours again. except slower this time.

“thanks. for thinking of me.” she says softly.

“someone has to.” you shrug, trying to play it off.

she gives you a quiet laugh. then she leans back on the bench, shoulder still pressed to yours with her hand warmers resting in her lap.

neither of you say much after that.

the silence is comfortable. she hasn’t moved for a while now. her legs were stretched out and her fingers were curled around the hand warmers you gave her. you think maybe she’s falling asleep sitting up. or just enjoying your presence.

either way, you don’t say anything.

but then your phone buzzes.

twice. three times.

karina jumps before you even check it, like the sound snapped something inside of her. she doesn’t say anything, but her body moves away from yours.

you glance down. a name lights up your screen.

your boyfriend.

you forgot he said that he would call. you forgot about him entirely for a second.

that realization makes your stomach turn.

“sorry. didn’t mean to—“ you mumble, silencing it.

“it’s fine.” she was back to the cold version of her you know from practice days.

she stands before you can stop her, pulling her skates back on. the laces are uneven and she doesn’t even fix them.

“you don’t have to go.” you say stupidly, as if it’ll make her stay.

but she’s already halfway to the ice again.

“i should run the routine again. i’m still shaky on the loop.” she calls out from over her shoulder.

you stay on the bench and watch as she glides back toward the center of the rink, phone buzzing again in your hand. the music doesn’t play. she doesn’t need it.

she jumps before she’s ready. the landing is clean but you can tell.

she wasn’t skating to practice. she was skating to forget you.

───────────────────────

the next day, somehow the rink feels colder.

maybe it’s the hour. or the way that karina doesn’t look at you when you walk in with your father. or it’s the silence that feels too heavy in between your steps.

she’s already on the ice when you arrive, pacing through her warm up jumps with clean movements. it was like last night never happened.

you sit off to the side as your dad steps onto the ice with his clipboard in hand.

“all right. start from the top. don’t drop your left arm on the entry again.” he calls, already stern. karina doesn’t reply. just nods once, jaw set. she adjusts her gloves and glides into position without a word.

the music starts.

you watch as she moves like she’s made for this. every jump makes her look as if she’s gliding. she doesn’t miss a beat.

but you see it. the way her chest rises too fast in between movements and the way way she hides the pain in her arm.

your father doesn’t.

“again. you were two seconds late on the last transition. don’t let the emotion get ahead of your technique.” he says the moment the final note fades.

she doesn’t argue. she just bows her head and skates back to the start.

you don’t say anything.

another run through. another correction. another sentence with barely contained frustration in your father’s voice as karina pushes herself harder, and faster. her blade slipped slightly on a landing and she hits the ice with a thud.

you flinch. but he doesn’t move.

“get up. you’re fine.” he says calmly.

karina pushes herself up slowly, lips pressed into a thin line. she doesn’t look at him or at you. you can see her hands shaking.

“i understand.” she says softly. and then she says it again in a quieter tone. “i understand.”

and she tries again.

it breaks something in you.

she finishes the third run perfectly. doesn’t collapse this time, but her breaths are harsh now. your dad claps his hands together once.

“better. you can take a break.”

he walks off the ice like it’s another day, already reaching for his phone. the door slams behind him.

only then karina sits down, curling slightly forward with her gloves gripping her knees. you don’t even realize you’ve moved until you’re walking down the bleachers and stepping quietly onto the mats just off the ice.

“i’ve been here the whole time.” you say.

her head snaps up.

“i saw all of it. how hard you’re trying.” you continue.

karina doesn’t say anything at first. just looks at you with her eyes wide.

then she whispers. “did it look like i was good enough?”

you walk closer and kneel next to her.

“it looked like you were breaking yourself to be.”

she wasn’t used to being seen like this.

“i don’t want you to skate like that. like you’re trying to prove something to him.” you mumble.

“i’m not.” she lies.

you don’t say anything for a moment. just reach into your bag quietly and pull out the same bottle you brought yesterday. it’s refilled and a little colder this time.

you hold it out to her without saying a word.

she stares at it like it’s a peace offering from another being.

“you need to hydrate. even perfectionists have to drink water.” you say softly with a small shrug.

karina laughs breathily. her fingers graze against yours as she takes it and she doesn’t let go right away.

“i’m not perfect.” she mumbles.

“you kind of are.” you reply before you can stop yourself.

she looks at you, then down at the bottle in her hands. then back up.

you don’t have to be perfect all the time. not around me, at least.

is what you wanted to say. but instead you just stay silent.

karina swallows like she’s trying not to say anything.

“hey. i brought this.” you say in a slightly playful tone.

her eyes flicker to it and her lips twitch barely. you catch it.

“you brought snacks?”

“maybe.”

“i love chocolate.” karina mumbles as she takes it slowly and unwraps it with careful fingers. she breaks it in half and holds one piece out to you.

your chest squeezes.

you take it.

she eats her half like it’s one of the first real things she’s had in hours.

“thanks. for not leaving.” she says finally.

“i wouldn’t.”

“i know. i think i needed someone to stay anyway.” she glances down at the bottle.

“then i’ll stay.” you nod.

and you do.

you sit side by side on the cold bench. karina’s finished the chocolate, skates finally unlaced and resting beside her. her legs are pulled up onto the bench as if she’s disappearing into her hoodie.

her phone buzzes once between you.

“my ride’s late.” she mutters, her thumb tapping the screen before she sets it face down.

you nod with your hands in your jacket pockets. “i can wait with you.”

“you don’t have to.”

“i want to.”

karina doesn’t argue. she just looks at you with an unreadable expression.

for a while, it’s quiet again.

“you were always watching me.”

you look over at her with a startled expression. “what?”

she smiles a little. “yesterday. at practice. today too. i can feel it.”

you look away. “you’re kinda hard to miss.”

“i noticed you before that.” she says. almost too quietly.

your heart skips a beat.

she leans against the bench with her head tilted up. “you came to one of my meets last year. sat way in the back and didn’t talk to anyone.”

you froze.

“i didn’t think you saw me.” you admit.

“i always see you.” she says and the words land with a softness that makes your heart race.

you open your mouth, searching for something to say.

“my dad expects a lot from you.”

she just stays quiet.

“the way you don’t fight back. it’s the same way i used to be.”

“do you ever wish you could quit?” you ask.

karina turns her head, looking at you. “every day.”

you look down at your hands. “but you don’t.”

“no. because i still love it. even when it hurts.”

you nod quietly.

“does anyone know you feel like that?” you ask.

she shakes her head. “no. i don’t tell them.”

“but i tell let you.”

it comes out as a whisper. you’re too surprised to say anything.

then the sound of a car pulling into the lot breaks the moment.

karina doesn’t move right away, she just watches you like she’s still thinking about saying something else. but she doesn’t.

she stands, slowly grabbing her things.

“i’ll see you tomorrow?” she says.

“yeah. tomorrow.”

and as she walks away, you feel that feeling in your chest. the feeling of someone slipping through your fingers even while they promise they’ll stay.

───────────────────────

it’s past nine the next day when you find her again.

the rink is empty and the lights are dimmed to half their usual level. her bag is forgotten on the bench and there’s a single light glowing from her phone screen. it was probably another missed call or her ride running late again.

she was alone in the center. there was no music this time, just her blades breaking the silence.

you don’t call out.

you sit on the same bench as before and unzip your jacket. you pull out a small paper bag and inside is a chocolate croissant you picked up earlier.

she doesn’t notice you until she slows down. she does one last spin and then she slides to the edge of the rink, brushing the hair from her face. that’s when she sees you.

her eyes widen and her chest heaves from the effort.

“you came back.” she said breathlessly.

“you’re not hard to find.” you tease gently.

karina steps off the ice carefully, taking off her gloves as she comes over. her cheeks are pink from the cold.

“what is it this time?”

“guess.”

she sits next to you again, closer than before. your knees almost touch.

she peeks into the bag and smiles slightly.

“you remembered i like chocolate.”

“i remember everything.” you say before you can stop yourself.

she looks at you and there’s something soft in her expression. maybe grateful or just stunned.

she slowly takes a bite and you watch her shoulders relax with the first chew.

neither of you one talk for a bit.

“you don’t owe me this, you know. the snacks, waiting, or the way you look at me.” she mumbled.

“i’m not doing it because i owe you anything.” you shrug.

“then why?”

“because i want you to feel like someone’s always there for you. no matter what.”

karina looks down at the half eaten pastry in her hands with an unreadable expression. no one’s ever done that for her, you realize.

just stayed. showed up. believed in her even when she wasn’t performing.

she swallows hard.

“thank you.” she whispers.

you could tell her it’s nothing. that’s it’s easy. that you would do it a hundred times over.

but you don’t.

she leans just a little closer this time and her shoulder almost brushes yours. you pretend not to notice.

she was slowly letting you in. it was pieces of her that she hopes you’ll handle carefully.

and you will. every time.

───────────────────────

the next day, you return to the rink again.

you were going to give her space but something in your chest pulled you back.

when you walk inside, karina’s already on the ice.

alone again. no music or audience.

you don’t even have a chance to say anything before it happens.

she goes into a spin too fast, and the blade of her skate catches wrong.

you hear the crack of impact before you see it.

karina hits the ice hard.

you froze with your breath caught in your throat.

she doesn’t get up right away. she just lies there, chest rising and falling.

then she slowly pushes herself to sit.

and you see it.

it wasn’t pain.

it was frustration.

she rips off one of her gloves and throws it to the side. her other hand slams against the ice. the sound echoes like a gunshot in the empty rink.

“stupid, i’m so stupid. why can’t i just—“ she mutters before choking on the words. her other glove comes off and her hands clench into fists.

you’re moving before you can think. sliding open the door to the rink and stepping out toward her.

“karina.”

she tensed.

you see the way her back straightens and her breathing stalls. she turns her head with wide eyes, like she didn’t know that anyone was watching.

you kneel beside her carefully.

she doesn’t look at you.

“i’m fine. i was doing fine. i’ve done this a hundred times.” she says quietly.

“i know.”

“i can’t afford to mess up right now. not when regionals are in three weeks. not when— not when everyone’s already waiting for me to fall.” her voice cracks.

your heart twists.

“i’m not.” you respond.

she finally looks at you.

this time, you see it all. the exhaustion just behind her eyes.

“i’m not waiting for you to fall. but i’ll be here to catch you if you do.” you say without thinking.

something breaks in her expression.

“i hate crying.” she says.

“you’re not.”

“it feels like i am.”

you pull down the sleeve of your jacket down and gently press the fabric to her cheek, wiping away a tear.

“you’re allowed to be human, karina.”

she closes her eyes.

and for the first time, she leans into your hand. not all the way, but enough to let you know she’s tired of being strong alone.

she doesn’t say anything for a bit after you wipe her tear.

she just sits there with her fists clenched and jaw tight.

but then she shifts, and you know she’s trying to get up.

you offer your hand without saying anything.

she hesitates.

for a second, you think she might not take it.

but then almost reluctantly, her fingers slip into yours.

her hand is cold and her grip is too gentle for someone who just punched the ice a minute ago.

you pull her to her feet and settle her when she wobbles.

she doesn’t let go right away. and neither do you.

you’re closer than you’ve ever been. her face is still flushed from skating and her lips part just slightly when she looks at you.

“thank you.” she whispers.

you almost respond, saying something too honest, but that’s when your phone buzzes.

you both look down at the same time.

it’s your boyfriend.

you freeze. and karina notices.

she drops your hand before you can even react and steps back like she wasn’t just unraveling in your arms seconds ago.

“i should… i should get back to it.” she mutters, brushing her hands off on her

“karina—”

“it’s fine. you should take that.” her voice returns back to neutral. it’s not angry, but it’s distant.

you glance down at your phone again.

when you look up, karina’s already lacing her gloves back on.

you don’t stop her.

and somehow, that hurts more than the distance that she just put between you.

because now you know what it looks like when she almost lets someone in.

and what it feels like when she slams the door shut just as fast.

───────────────────────

the rink is even colder tonight.

you’re not here just to watch this time. you’re here because you couldn’t stay away.

karina hasn’t looked at you once since yesterday.

you came in quietly, settling into the middle row with a blanket around your shoulders and a box of fruits in your lap. you didn’t expect her to notice you.

but you still hoped.

she steps onto the ice like nothing ever happened.

she’s different today. you can see it.

she’s trying harder. like she’s trying to prove something.

you watch her routine in silence. it’s the same one she’s been perfecting for weeks. there’s no music, but you know it by heart now. you could probably hum the entire song if she asked.

she doesn’t fall this time.

but her landing is shaky and her spin is off center. her arms falter for half a second in the last sequence.

she finishes with what would be flawless from anyone else’s eyes.

but when she stops and lets out a heavy exhale, you can tell she’s not satisfied.

you wait until she comes off the ice and tug her sweatshirt back over her training top.

then you call out.

“that was beautiful.”

karina looks up so fast you wonder if she ever knew that you were here.

you hold up the water bottle and the fruits you packed earlier. strawberry and banana slices with two small chocolates tucked into the corner.

she walks over slowly. almost cautiously.

“i didn’t know that you were coming.”

“didn’t want to miss your performance.” you shrug.

she sits next to you on the bleachers. you hand her the box and she takes it wordlessly, taking the top off of the container.

“you’re really good, karina.” you say softly. maybe a little too soft.

“like... i don’t even know anything about skating but i can feel it when i watch you. that’s gotta mean something.”

karina froze mid bite.

you glance at her but she’s not looking at you. just staring down at her fruits.

“…what?” you ask.

“no one’s ever said that to me. not like that.”

“really? you’re one of the best.”

“your dad is always too focused on what needs to be fixed. where my lines are off and where i’m not centered. he says praise makes you soft.”

you feel something in your chest. then you nudge her with your shoulder.

“then i’ll do it for him.”

that makes her look at you. her eyes are slightly wide and her expression is unreadable.

you smile. “i’ll be your fan. i’ll even be loud and annoying. if you want me to.”

karina looks away but you still catch the shade of red rising to her cheeks.

“you’d be my audience?”

“i am your audience. right now. front now.” you say.

she hides her laugh behind a sip of water. then she asks.

“will you stay if i go again?”

you nod without a second thought.

you stay in the same seat while she steps back onto the ice and it looks like her entire body is lighter. you didn’t know it was because of your praise.

when she begins again you catch her stealing a glance at you during the first spin.

then she does it again during the glide.

you wave.

and she almost stumbles from smiling too hard.

karina finishes her routine again and this time, she nails it.

everything was flawless.

when she comes to a stop in front of you, she doesn’t say anything. she just looks at you like she’s searching for something in your expression.

you don’t hold back.

“that was perfect.”

“you think so?”

“i know so. you were scary good. i got chills.” you hug the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

karina lets out a soft laugh and looks away, but she’s smiling. her shoulders lower like she’s allowing herself to feel proud for once.

she walks over to the edge of the rink and sits beside you again. this time she sits closer. her thigh brushes against yours and neither of you move away.

you offer her a chocolate from the snack box. she takes it.

“i’m serious. you skate like your entire heart is in it.” you say.

her smile fades, but not in a bad way. it turns into something softer.

“it is.”

you look at her. you’ve never seen someone work so hard for something that almost no one praises them for.

“you should be proud of yourself, karina.”

she doesn’t respond right away. she just eats the chocolate in silence.

maybe you lean a little closer than you should.

maybe she does too.

because you feel something change again.

she turns her head to look at you.

and the way she’s looking makes your stomach do a thing.

like she’s never had someone talk to her like this.

like no one’s ever stayed.

“i like it when you’re here. i skate better.” she says suddenly.

you smile and your heart does a weird skip. “then i’ll keep coming.”

karina’s eyes flick down to your mouth for a second too long.

and then, you see it happen. the moment she remembers.

your boyfriend.

your father.

everything that makes this too complicated.

she pulls away slightly. but it’s enough for you to notice.

you don’t know what you did wrong, but she’s straightening her spine again. putting space between you.

“you should probably head out soon. it’s getting late.” she says. her voice was too polite for you to like it.

“karina—”

“your dad doesn’t like when you stay late, right?”

you pause, reading her face.

it’s completely changed. her composure. she’s still distant.

the softness is still there, but it’s tucked away.

still, you try.

“i don’t mind staying.”

she stands up anyway, avoiding your eyes.

“i’ll lock up after i’m done.”

then she’s skating away again.

but as she gets back into position, her gaze flicks to you. just once.

like maybe she wished you would stop her.

but you don’t.

not this time.

───────────────────────

the next night, you show up again.

you don’t say anything.

you just walk in with your tumbler of hot chocolate, blanket folded over your arm.

karina’s already skating when you get there and her movements are sharp but you can tell that she’s tired. her routine looks less precise, like her mind is somewhere else.

you settle into your now usual seat and wait, wrapping yourself in the blanket. you don’t cheer or wave this time. you just watch.

when she finishes the routine and finally notices you, she doesn’t look surprised.

she just comes to a stop and lets her hands rest on her hips while panting softly.

“hey.” you say.

she skates over slowly.

she doesn’t sit next to you this time. just leans against the railing while looking down at her skates.

“you didn’t have to come again.”

“i wanted to.”

karina doesn’t reply.

you hold out the tumbler. “it’s hot chocolate.”

she glances at it then at you. then, she reluctantly takes it.

you watch her sip it slowly.

“you don’t have to be alone all the time, you know.”

karina’s shoulders tense.

but she doesn’t look at you. she just stares at the ice, jaw tight.

“it’s easier this ways.” she says after a long pause.

you’re caught off guard by the honesty. “easier?”

“no one expects anything from me when i’m alone.”

there’s something about the way she says it. like she’s told herself that a thousand times before.

you want to reach for her. but you don’t.

“i expect something from you.”

she looks at you. almost defensively. but your gaze is soft.

“i expect you to take care of yourself. to eat. to rest. to let people care about you.”

karina swallows.

you think she might say something, but instead she just looks down.

“you have a boyfriend.”

your stomach twists and you look down at your hands.

“i know.”

“you’re the coach’s daughter.”

“i know that too.”

silence stretches between you. and then she whispers.

“i can’t let myself like you.”

it’s the closest thing to a confession she’s ever given you. and you’re afraid that it’s the closest that she ever will.

your heart breaks in two.

you don’t know what to say. you don’t even know if you’re allowed to say anything at all.

so you just sit there with your fingers trembling inside the blanket.

she takes one last sip of the hot chocolate then hands the tumbler back to you, fingers brushing yours like she doesn’t mean to. but maybe she does.

then she skates away again.

the sound of your heartbeat is louder than her blades cutting across the ice.

“karina.” you call out, voice echoing through the empty rink.

she doesn’t stop.

you stand up. “karina, wait—”

she’s still skating. even faster now.

it stings. the way she shuts down, like she’s trying to outskate the things you make her feel.

so you raise your voice.

“why do you keep doing this?”

that makes her stop abruptly. her skates carve into the ice, and send up a sharp spray of frost. she turns to you with an unreadable expression.

“doing what?”

“this.” you gesture between you both. “one second you let me in and the next you’re skating away like you hate me.”

she exhaled hard, looking away. “i’m not doing anything.”

“yes you are. you talk to me, open up, and then remember i’m someone you shouldn’t like and you shut down again. every single time.”

karina’s jaw clenches.

you step closer. “i’m not trying to confuse you. i just want to be there for you. and i thought… i thought maybe you wanted that too.”

“i do. god, i do. but what do you want me to with that? you have a boyfriend and your dad hates me. this isn’t about just skating anymore.” she says, voice cracking slightly.

you pause.

“i never said it was about just skating.”

karina looks at you. her expression softens but you can see something else in her eyes.

she shakes her head, scoffing slightly. “you don’t get it.”

“then make me get it.”

“i can’t! because if i say it out loud then it’s real, and if it’s real then i’ll want something that i can’t have.” she nearly yells, voice echoing off the walls.

the silence that follows is so loud that it hurts.

she blinks fast like she didn’t mean to say that.

and you just stand there, stunned.

“karina…”

her name comes out softer now.

she looks down at her skates, biting her lip.

“i think you should go.”

your throat tightens. “do you really want me to?”

karina closes her eyes.

“no.”

but she turns away anyway.

and this time, you just let her skate.

because now you know. she’s not pushing you away because she doesn’t care.

she’s pushing you away because she does.

───────────────────────

the rink feels colder again.

it’s not the weather. it’s the emptiness.

karina gets there late, hoodie pulled tight over her head with her headphones in. her water bottle is half full.

but when she steps onto the ice, the first thing she does is look at the stands.

you’re not there.

she pretends that it doesn’t bother her. pretends that she doesn’t notice.

she warms up and does her stretches, then she goes through the footwork section of her routine easily.

but when it’s time to start the real run through, she hesitates.

you’re still not there.

there’s no voice cheering her on softly.

no tumbler clutched in your hands.

no little smile whenever she glances over her shoulder.

she tries to push through it, starts the routine anyway. but halfway through the first turn, she tumbles. her balance slips and her hand scrapes the ice hard, making her curse under her breath.

she gets up and starts again.

falls again.

but it’s worse this time.

she sits on the ice for longer, breathing heavily. her eyes are unfocused and for the first time in weeks, she feels it creeping back in. that voice in her head that tells her she’s not enough. that she’ll never be enough.

she presses the tip of her palm against her forehead.

she doesn’t cry. but she’s close.

and then she reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone.

your name is right there, but she doesn’t call.

she just stares at the screen for a long, long time.

her thumb was hovering over the call button.

just one tap. but she doesn’t do it. she locks the phone, puts it back into her pocket and stands up.

this time, she doesn’t try the routine again.

she just skates in slow, aimless circles.

alone.

two weeks before regionals.

it’s been a week.

seven days.

karina counted them all. skated through every single one one of them like it meant nothing, but it did. she just got better at pretending it didn’t.

there was two weeks until regionals now.

everyone’s tense and the rink is busier than usual. there’s more skaters and more pressure but tonight, she’s the only one left. again.

she’s been pushing herself too hard. trying things she shouldn't be attempting this late. her left ankle’s bruised and her back aches. her music plays on loop but none of it feels right. nothing has felt right ever since you stopped showing up.

she doesn’t expect to see you again, which is why when she hears the door creak open mid routine she doesn’t stop right away.

it’s only when she glances toward the stands and sees you with your blanket, tumbler, and uncertain smile that she fumbles a landing.

not enough to fall. but just enough to feel it. just enough to feel everything again.

you stay quiet for a moment and just sit there.

karina lets out a shaky breath and skates to the edge, stopping right in front of you. neither of you say anything right away.

you hold out the tumbler.

she hesitates but takes it and wraps her hands around it like she did before.

“you’ve been pushing yourself too hard.”

she looks at you.

“noticed that from your seat?” she says, trying to sound teasing but it comes out tired.

“i noticed from not being in it.” you reply and her chest twists.

she leans against the edge of the rink, back against the wall. you lean forward next to her, elbows on the railing.

“i didn’t think that you would come back.” she admits.

“i wasn’t sure if i should.”

“why did you?”

“because you looked like you needed someone.” you shrug.

she glances up at you, something vulnerable showing in her eyes.

“i always do.”

that breaks something in you.

yet, neither of you move.

she sips the hot chocolate and you rest your chin on your hands.

“i missed watching you skate.” you whisper.

karina closes her eyes for a second, as if she’s allowing herself to believe you again.

“i skated better when you were here.”

you heart stutters.

it always does when she says that.

karina doesn’t look at you when she says it. she just stares down at her hands, thumbs moving over the tumbler. she looks small like this. not because she is, but because she’s tired. tired in a way that you’ve never really seen her before.

“then i guess i should’ve never left.”

she looks up. your stomach makes you feel weird in the way it always does when she looks at you like that. and she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it.

“you skate like you don’t even need air.”

“i don’t. until you’re not here.” she says quietly.

there’s silence after that. you’re not sure of what to say next.

“i brought you chocolate.”

karina lets out a quiet laugh.

“you remembered?”

“of course i did. you barely eat.” you say this time.

“that’s scary.”

“what is?”

“being known.”

the way she says it makes it seem like it’s a luxury she doesn’t let herself have.

you don’t reply. you just pull out the bar and hand it to her.

“then i’ll be careful with you.” you mumble.

and that is the moment she knows she’s completely fucked.

because you’re kind and careful. and also someone else’s. and her coach’s daughter.

and she’s still never wanted to kiss someone more in her entire life.

she doesn’t say anything after that.

just keeps her eyes on the bar of chocolate like if she looks at you again, then something might break.

you don’t move either. you just sit there.

you can hear her breathing. see the way her fingers tap against the tumbler, then stop, and then start again. she’s fidgeting and that alone is strange.

“were you okay? the days i didn’t come.” you ask softly, breaking the silence.

her eyes drop.

“no.”

the honesty stings.

but she doesn’t apologize for it.

she shrugs a little, like she’s trying to play it off. “it was just… harder.”

“i’m sorry.” you nod slowly.

“i didn’t want you to feel like you had to come.”

“i didn’t. i wanted to.” you say, meeting her eyes.

her breath catches. you notice but you pretend not to.

“i used to wonder if i actually helped at all. or if i was just a distraction.”

“you weren’t.” she says immediately with no hesitation. “you aren’t. you’re…”

she trails off.

“i’m what?”

she looks back at you, but she looks scared.

“you’re part that makes it hurt less.”

and that does something to you.

you don’t say anything. you can’t, really. not when your throat feels tight and your chest is full of something you can’t name. or you’re too scared to.

so you reach over slowly, placing your fingers over hers.

she doesn’t move. her hand stays beneath yours, still and warm and trembling.

and for a moment, neither of you breathe.

then your phone buzzes on the bench behind you.

karina pulls her hand away before you could even blink.

you turn around, already knowing who it is.

karina stands and grabs her bag without saying anything.

you wish she would. you wish you could.

“thanks for the snack.”

and then she’s gone.

───────────────────────

the next day you show up earlier.

you don’t pretend it’s not for her anymore. you’re sitting in your usual seat with your blanket, tumbler, and snack beside you as you watch the skaters rotate through their drills.

but karina doesn’t come out right away.

you see her peek through the glass from the hall. you catch her gaze for a second, then she disappears.

she doesn’t return until everyone else is wrapping up.

and even then, she still doesn’t look at you.

she glides past the bench, focused with her headphones in. you try not to take it personal, but it’s hard. her eyes don’t meet yours once.

you wait until she finishes her routine. she lands the last jump perfectly. almost too perfectly. like it’s anger and not focus pushing her through it.

you stand when she skates off.

she walks past you like she didn’t see you at all.

so you follow.

“karina.”

she doesn’t turn around.

“hey— stop.”

she finally stops by the far end of the rink right by the locker hallway, but she doesn’t face you. she just stands there with her fists clenched at her sides.

you take a step closer. “are you avoiding me?”

she exhaled. “i’m not avoiding you.”

“you literally didn’t look at me all night.”

“that’s not avoidance.”

“then what is it?”

“It’s self preservation.” she snaps.

you froze.

her chest is rising and falling quickly, eyes glossy with something she’s trying hard to suppress.

“karina.”

“i can’t do this. not when i know you’re gonna leave again. not when i know who you go home to. i’m trying to stay focused. this—“ she gestures between you two. “— this messes with me.”

“so what, you’re just cutting me off?”

she looks at you like she wishes she could say no. but she says nothing.

you shake your head. “you don’t get to push me away just because you’re scared.”

“i’m not scared.” she says too fast.

“then what are you?”

silence.

she looks at you and it breaks something in both of you.

“falling.”

your heart drops.

“falling. and you’re not allowed to catch me.”

neither of you move.

everything feels louder now. her hands are shaking again and you want to grab them, tell her you're already falling too, even if you’re too much of a coward to admit it yet.

but your phone rings again.

and this time, she doesn’t wait for you to answer it.

she just walks away.

───────────────────────

the next day is cold. like always.

you’re already in the stands when karina steps into the rink, tying her jacket tighter with her head down. she’s barely slept either, but she’s used to that.

then she sees you. and her heart stops.

you’re curled up on the bleachers in the same blanket, but you look different.

you’re always soft and always quiet, but this time there’s something hollow behind your eyes.

they’re puffy. and red.

your smile is barely there.

she sees the dark circles immediately. and the way you’re not waving or calling out to her like usual. you don’t even look like you’ve eaten anything.

karina slows to a stop in the middle of the walkway, just staring at you.

she can tell that something’s wrong.

and then the sound of your father’s voice cuts through the silence.

“again!”

karina flinches.

he’s not yelling, but his tone is sharp, cutting in that way only coaches can be.

disappointment wrapped in professionalism.

“you’re stiff. you’re late on your rotations. you want to fall in front of the judges? pick it up. again.”

she doesn’t respond. just nods. she’s good at taking hits and pushing through.

but even from the bleachers, you’re watching every second like it physically hurts to witness.

karina’s eyes change to you between jumps, just once, for a second.

and you’re already looking at her.

your eyes crack in heartbreak.

like it’s killing you to see her go through this after the night you just had.

she lands the jump. barely.

your father says nothing this time, just mutters something under his breath and walks off toward the office.

karina exhales and then she looks at you.

that’s when she realizes. you weren’t just tired. you were crying.

all night.

and somehow, she knows it wasn’t just about him. it was about her, too. about everything you’re not allowed to say. about everything that she made worse by pushing you away.

her throat tightens and you try to smile at her.

you don’t even think before you stand. you just move, blanket slipping off your shoulders and your feet hitting the bleachers faster than they should. your heart was pounding in your throat like it wants to say something first.

by the time karina’s stepping off the ice, you’re already waiting by the edge with your arms crossed.

she sees you and it wrecks her.

you can tell by the way she hesitates just for a second. the way her eyes linger on your face then drop to your hands. they’re empty.

she unties her skates slowly, like she’s trying to draw out the seconds. maybe she’s hoping that you’ll leave.

you don’t.

you crouch down beside her instead and she still doesn’t look at you.

“i brought water. it’s in the stands.” you say quietly.

she doesn’t respond.

“i couldn’t sleep.” you add.

she exhales shakily. “why are you here?”

you swallow. “because i can’t not be.”

her fingers pause on her laces.

“i kept thinking about what you said. that you skated better when i was here. that this messed with you.” you continue, looking at her hands instead of her face.

she doesn’t say anything.

“do you think it doesn’t mess with me too? do you think that i don’t feel it? when you look at me like that? when you won’t look at me at all?” you whisper.

she finally looks up. and it’s all there.

the hurt. the want. the grief of something she hasn’t even let herself have yet.

“i don’t know what i’m allowed to feel when it comes to you. you’re the coaches daughter. you have a boyfriend. and i’m just—“

“stop.” you interrupt. “don’t do that. don’t reduce yourself to that.”

karina flinches.

“last night we got into an argument. i told him that it wasn’t fair. that someone else— you— make me feel more in the ten minutes after practice than he has in months.”

her lips part. she looks like she’s trying not to break.

“you’re the only person who sees me for me.”

karina swallows hard. “you can’t say things like that.”

“why not?”

“because i want to believe them.”

you both fall silent.

you don’t touch her. you don’t move. You just sit in the silence, watching the way her eyes glisten and dart to the ground like she can’t bear to look at you for too long.

“i kept waiting for it to go away. whatever this is.” she says finally.

“and?”

she looks up.

“it never did.”

your breath hitches.

neither of you say it. you don’t need to. it’s the distance neither of you dare to cross yet.

“i skated better when you were here.” she says again. like it’s a confession now.

“and i broke when you weren’t.”

this time, you don’t look away. and neither does she.

she stands first.

you think she might reach for you, but her arms stay at her sides. her fingers twitch like they want to move but don’t know how to move without ruining everything.

“i should go.” she says quietly.

“my ride’s waiting.”

you nod slowly. “okay.”

neither of you move.

there’s a second where it feels like she might stay. like she might say screw it and finally do something reckless.

but she doesn’t.

she looks at you like she’s memorizing you in case this is the last time she gets to.

“you make things better. just by being here.” she says almost too softly to hear.

and then she turns.

no goodbye. no wave.

when you finally stand, your hands shake.

because you know it’s not over.

but it hasn’t started yet, either.

it’s just waiting.

like you are.

one week before regionals.

you’re curled up in your usual spot with a tumbler of tea between your hands.

karina’s been skating for over an hour. and for once, she hasn’t looked your way.

you don’t blame her.

not really.

you told him the truth two days ago. you ended it.

but endings don’t mean freedom. not when guilt clings to you.

you’ve barely talked to her since.

not about it.

not about anything.

but you’re here. you’re always here, and she knows that.

when her routine finishes you stand without thinking, legs sore from sitting too long. you meet her by the edge of the rink. the way you always do.

you offer the water bottle without saying a word. she takes it with tired eyes, lips parted like she might say something.

but she doesn’t.

“you’re sharper today. your landings are cleaner.”

“thanks.”

just that. no warmth behind it.

you swallow it down and try again. “do you want to run through it again with music? i can play it for you.”

she hesitates before shrugging. “if you want.”

it stings a little. but you press play anyway.

and as she skates, you watch her the way you always have. you’ve seen it a million times before, but it still knocks the wind out of you every time.

because she’s beautiful.

because she’s yours in all the ways that don’t count.

and it’s killing you.

when the music fades you’re already moving to meet her again. she unlaces her skates in silence.

you crouch beside her like you did the last time, and you’ll probably keep doing it until she tells you not to.

“you don’t have to keep showing up.”

“i want to.”

she glances at you quickly.

“you’re going through stuff too.” she says.

“so are you.”

for a second, she just stares.

“does it hurt?”

“what?”

“the breakup.”

“yeah.” you don’t lie.

she nods once. slowly.

then she says your name like it’s fragile. like if she speaks it too loud you might shatter.

“i hate that it hurts. but i don’t regret it.” she mumbles.

you stare at her.

and you know. you know she’s not just talking about the breakup.

you know she means this. you. whatever’s going on between you two that neither of you fully touch yet.

“me neither.”

she doesn’t touch you.

you don’t ask her to stay.

you just sit side by side on the cold floor of the empty rink, hearts quietly breaking for each other in a way that feels like a promise. even if neither of you said the words.

it happened four days before regionals.

it was so fast that you barely registered it.

your dad’s voice was sharp as it echoed through the rink. words like focus, sloppy, and disappointment cut through the air with every frustrated step he took.

karina stands perfectly still on the ice, arms stiff at her sides.

she doesn’t look at him.

she doesn’t look at you either.

“again. and this time, land the jump like someone who actually wants to qualify.” he barks.

you open your mouth like you were about to say something. but you don’t. you know better than to poke the fire when it’s this close to regionals. so you stay still and bite your tongue until it tastes like metal.

karina just nods quietly.

like always.

like she’s learned to.

she runs the routine again.

it’s not bad.

but it’s not perfect. and he lets her know.

another critique and another sigh. then he walks away without even a good job to soften the blow.

you hear the door to the rink slam shut behind him.

and then it’s silent.

karina glides off the ice and sits on the bench without a word, untying her skates with trembling fingers.

you approach carefully.

she doesn’t look at you.

“i can’t do this.”

it’s so quiet you almost miss it.

her voice breaks on the last word, and she’s leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, hands gripping her hair like she’s trying to hold herself together.

your chest hurts.

you kneel in front of her without thinking.

“karina—”

“i can’t breathe anymore. every time i mess up it’s like— he looks at me like i’m wasting everyone’s time. like i’m not worth it.” she chokes out.

“hey. that’s not true.” you whisper, reaching up slowly but not touching her.

tears fall down her face, but she doesn’t wipe them. “i’ve done everything. i’ve pushed myself so hard i can’t even feel my legs anymore, and it’s still not enough.”

“you are enough.”

she shakes her head. “i’m so tired. and i don’t even know why i’m still trying. i keep thinking maybe… maybe if i do it perfectly, just once, someone will finally say i did good.” she whispers, voice trembling.

you feel your heart break. because you know that feeling.

so this time, you do reach for her.

you hand lands lightly on her knee. “i see you. i’ve seen you this whole time.”

karina finally looks up.

it looks like she’s been holding this in for years.

“you skate like it means something. i don’t care if you fall or if it’s messy. or if my dad doesn’t say anything. i’ll always think you’re perfect.”

she blinks and more tears slip down. then her lip quivers.

and then carefully and hesitantly, karina leans forward and rests her forehead on your shoulder. its not a hug but it’s close.

you don’t move.

you just stay there with her in the silence, letting her fall apart without asking her to stop.

because she’s always been the strong one. and maybe this once she needed someone to hold the weight.

───────────────────────

it’s late when your phone buzzes.

you’re still awake, staring at the ceiling. you’ve been replaying the moment in the rink all evening. the way her forehead pressed to your shoulder like she was scared to go any closer.

you reach for your phone.

karina are you still up?

you sit up instantly.

you yeah. are you okay?

there’s a pause. it’s long enough that you start to wonder if she’s fallen asleep.

karina can you come over? i don’t want to be alone tonight.

and in less than fifteen minutes later she opens the door in an oversized sweatshirt and leggings. her hair was pulled back messily.

you love her so much in that moment it actually hurts.

“hi.” you say softly.

karina steps aside to let you in.

“you didn’t have to come.”

“you asked.”

she doesn’t argue.

her skates are drying by the heater, and sits cross legged on her bed. you follow hesitantly, leaving just enough space between you to make her feel safe.

“thank you.” she mumbled.

“for what?”

“for being there today. i don’t think i could’ve kept it together if you weren’t.” she shrugged.

“you don’t always have to keep it together.”

“yeah. try telling my brain that.”

“he was hard on you today.” you say after a while.

karina nods, looking down. “he’s always been that way. but i guess it hit harder today.”

you watch her for a moment.

“i already think the world of you.” you say without thinking.

karina blinks, breath hitching.

and she leans in. just a little.

“if i ask you to stay… will you?”

you don’t hesitate.

“i’m already here.”

and you don’t know what time it is now.

only that the world has gone still.

karina hasn’t moved in a while. not since she adjusted the blanket over your legs. she’s barely said anything, really. but she hasn’t stopped looking at you.

and you haven’t stopped pretending you don’t notice.

you should go.

you tell yourself that again and again, but instead you turn your head and find her already watching you. her lips were parted like she was about to say something but changed her mind.

“what?” you whisper.

she shakes her head. “nothing.”

you hesitate.

“you can say it.”

karina’s eyes search yours, and for a second it looks like she might. like she’ll confess something. or maybe let go of something she’s been holding in for so long.

instead, she mumbles. “i skate better when you’re here.” she says again.

“i’ll be here. if you want me to.” you say.

“that’s the problem.”

your heart stutters.

she doesn’t explain. but she doesn’t have to.

you’re the coach’s daughter and she has a championship to win. and yet, you’re here.

and she wants you.

you’re both still sitting close, knees brushing under the blanket. close enough to kiss if you leaned in just a little.

and maybe she’s thinking the same thing. because she leans in.

barely.

barely enough that it could be a dream.

your breath catches.

your eyes flutter down to her mouth. and she hesitates.

she sits there, fingers twitching like she wants to reach for your hand.

but instead of kissing you, karina leans in further and folds herself into you.

her arms go around your waist, gentle and unsure.

her face buries into your neck.

and you hold her without saying a word. you let her heart beat against yours. your fingers find the edge of her sleeve and just stay there, gripping gently.

you don’t move after that. neither of you do.

you’re half-asleep when you feel her exhale against your neck.

her arms tightened slightly around you, and her forehead rests just beneath your jaw now. her warm breath fans your collarbone.

“i don’t know how to stop wanting you.”

you freeze. not all the way, but enough. enough that your breath stutters.

you don’t breathe for a full second after she says it.

you wonder if she even knows she said it or if it slipped through the cracks of exhaustion and everything else that she’s been holding in.

you feel her body relax against yours a moment later. her breathing slows. she’s asleep.

and you’re still wide awake, repeating her words in your head.

you close your eyes and press your cheek lightly to the top of her head.

“i don’t want you to stop.”

she doesn’t stir. she doesn’t answer.

maybe she won’t remember the words she said. maybe she won’t remember yours. but you will. you always will.

───────────────────────

the rink is full of silence. when you arrive you just stand there and watch her for a moment.

karina is skating slow mindless loops, nothing like her usual precision. she’s moving like she’s trying to outrun invisible. you know what it is. because you heard it.

your father’s voice still rings in your ears, loud and relentless. it was another round of “you’re still not landing clean” and “if you’re gonna do that tomorrow, don’t even bother showing up.” it was another night where she nodded without speaking, biting her tongue hard enough to keep the tears from slipping out.

you didn’t interfere. you never do. but you watch. you always watch.

and maybe that’s why you’re here now, stepping through the gap in the railing and walking out onto the empty rink.

she doesn’t notice you right away. her eyes are focused elsewhere and her gaze is distant. you wonder if she even feels her skates gliding beneath her anymore, or if she’s somewhere else completely. a place where no one’s yelling.

you kneel at the edge of the rink. “karina?”

she slows instantly, head snapping toward your voice like muscle memory.

“hey.” you say softly.

she looks at you for a moment.

“you— uh— your dad said that you left.” she says. her voice is quieter than usual.

“i came back.”

she skates closer, finally stepping off the ice. she doesn’t sit, she just stands in front of you while hugging herself.

“you saw.”

“i did.”

karina lets out a humorless laugh and looks away. “whatever. i’ve had worse.

“that doesn’t make it okay.”

her eyes flicker back to yours. there’s a flash of something there but she looks down quickly, beginning to untie her boots.

“you were good today. better than good.”

“not good enough.”

“for him. but you don’t skate for him.”

her hands fall away from her laces. she straightens slowly and finally looks at you. there’s something about her expression, like she’s trying to figure out whether to let this moment happen or shut it down.

“and who do i skate for then?” she asks. your heart skips. “i don’t know. but when you skate, i can feel it. the emotion. it’s indescribable.” you mumble.

karina swallows.

you take a step forward, closing the space between you.

“but i can see it.”

“you always show up when i need you most. even when you don’t know it.” she whispered after a bit.

“what, are you keeping track?” you laughed.

she hums. “maybe.”

you don’t know that she cried last night. that her hands shook as she held the letter. she read the email from the coach six times before your dad finally admit that he recommended her. that she almost said no.

almost.

you also don’t know this might be the last time she skates in front of you.

not yet.

“you nervous about tomorrow?”

“you’re the one competing.”

“yeah, but… i skate better when you’re here.”

there it is again. the quiet truth that she keeps letting slip piece by piece.

you don’t know how to answer, so you just stay silent. karina’s blades click softly against the ice before she kicks them off and pulls on her sneakers.

then she’s looking at you again. the look that always makes your heart clench a little too tight.

“you ever think about what happens after regionals?” she asks suddenly.

“like nationals?” she hesitates.

“no. i mean like… after us. after the season ends.”

you pause. “i haven’t. not really. why?”

but she’s already looking away, shoulders tense in a way that makes your stomach twist.

“you okay?”

“i just… it doesn’t matter.”

it does matter. you know it does, but you don’t push. instead, you laugh quietly.

“you’ll win tomorrow.”

she laughs a little brokenly. “that’s not what i’m worried about.”

you don’t ask what it is. because maybe you’re scared to hear the answer.

karina fiddles with the edge of her sleeve with her eyes fixed on the rink, but her focus is elsewhere.

“you sure you’re okay?” you ask again, softer now.

she inhales. her throat bobs as she swallows.

“i got an offer. to train in america.” she says finally.

“america?”

“yeah.”

“for summer training?”

“no. like— move there. train full time. i’d be part of a national development program.”

your stomach drops. “oh.”

“it’s… huge. like, dream level. career changing.”

“wow. that’s amazing.”

and it is. it is. but you feel the words hurting in your throat like they’re glass.

karina’s fingers flex against her knee. “i leave monday.”

silence crashes over you.

“oh.” you say again, because it’s all you can say. your voice barely comes out. she finally turns to look at you. and this time, she looks right at you.

“i wasn’t going to tell you. i didn’t want to ruin tomorrow. but then you showed up and i… i needed tonight.” she says.

your heart twists.

“so this is goodbye?” you ask and you hate how small you sound. karina’s jaw clenches. “don’t say it like that.”

“how am i supposed to say it?”

you get ready to leave and she follows.

“i didn’t ask for this. i didn’t want to leave. but your dad— he pushed for it. he said it was the only way i’d make it.” she says.

your eyes sting. “and you didn’t tell me?”

“i didn’t want to make it harder.”

“it already is.”

she’s standing right behind you now. you can feel the warmth of her breath on your shoulder.

“i would stay. if i could. i almost did.” she whispers.

you turn to face her and she’s right there. closer than she’s ever been. her eyes flick to your lips once and that’s all it takes.

you kiss her.

it’s instinctual. you don’t even mean for it to happen. you just do it. a gentle kiss pressed to her lips.

she goes very still.

you pull back the second you realize what you’ve done, already panicking.

“i— i’m sorry. that was— god, i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have—“

she grabs your wrist and pulls you in again.

she pulls you back in like she’s starved for you. your back hits the rink railing with a thud and the cold metal shocks you through your shirt, but you don’t even register it. not when she’s kissing you this messily, frantically, and desperately.

her hands are everywhere. gripping into your hair, hugging the curve of your waist, keeping herself against your hips like she’s scared that you might disappear if she lets go. and maybe she is. maybe she knows.

“karina—” you gasp in between kisses, but she cuts you off with another kiss.

“i shouldn’t. you’re the coach’s daughter. i shouldn’t—“ she murmurs against your lips, but she doesn’t stop.

she pulls back long enough to look at you, eyes revealing that she’s trying to memorize this moment. and then she kisses you again. harder.

her hands slide under your jaw, cupping your face like it’s fragile, even though she kisses you like you aren’t.

the railing rattles under your grip as your body arches into hers, needing her closer before this all slips through your fingers.

because she’s leaving soon. because this ends soon. and you both feel it.

that’s why she kisses you like this. like she’s trying to carve the memory into her brain. like she’s terrified that this might the only time that she’ll ever get to touch you like this, and she needs to make it count.

“i’m so scared. i could win everything and i’m scared of what happens if i lose you after.” she whispers, forehead against yours.

you don’t answer.

you just hold her tighter.

you stay like that. pressed between her and the railing until the lights in the rink finally begin to dim for the night.

and she pulls back, with teary eyes.

“come tomorrow. please.”

you nod.

three months after regionals.

karina didn’t mean to come back to korea for long. it was just a short break so she could breathe again. she told everyone it was to reset. to clear her head before the next competition cycle. but no amount of sleep, early morning runs or phone calls with her mother, can ever fix the ache that settled in her chest three months ago.

not since she left you.

now she walks through familiar streets with a scarf tucked around her neck, hands in her coat pockets. she doesn’t tell anyone where she’s going. just says she’s going out for a bit and slips away before anyone can ask too many questions. her feet know the route before she does. every turn.

the closer she gets to the rink, the quieter her thoughts become. she pauses at the entrance for a long time, fingers stuck at the metal door handle. thr old banner hanging above the entrance has started to peel at the corners and a few letters faded. but it’s the same. everything is the same.

except her.

when she steps inside, it hits her all at once. the soft echo of her own footsteps against the floor reminds her of it all. this is where she became who she is.

and this is where she left the person who made her feel like herself.

she doesn't lace up her skates. doesn’t even sit down. she just walks the edge of the rink slowly, one hand following the railing. she can see her reflection staring back at her in the glass. she’s more tired and her eyes are flooded with something deeper than exhaustion.

she stops near the bench where she used to sit after practice. the same bench where you handed her water bottles, chocolates, and hand warmers. the same place where she started to let herself hope.

her chest tightens.

she doesn’t know what she was expecting. a sense of closure? a ghost of you?

but instead. you’re really there.

like no time has passed at all. like a prayer she didn’t know that she was still saying. and she can feel herself breathing again.

at first, she thinks she’s imagining you.

you’re sitting on one of the benches, and your coat is pulled tight. your hands tucked into your sleeves and there's a water bottle resting beside you.

her heart stutters.

she blinks hard. more than once. and you’re still there.

she opens her mouth before she can stop herself, voice shaky and unsure for the first time in months. “…y/n?”

you look up. and that’s all it takes. karina swallows hard, taking a step forward. “is it really you?”

you nod slowly. like you can’t believe she’s real either.

“i didn’t think you’d be here.” you say quietly.

“i didn’t think you would.” she answers. “i was just just… I was passing by. I didn’t mean to—”

“you always pass by when you’re thinking too much.”

she huffs out a breath that was almost a laugh. her eyes are glassy now and she tries to blink it away but it clings.

“you look the same. but different.” she says.

“so do you.”

she hesitates before asking. “can i… come closer?” you don’t answer right away. you just shift slightly to the side on the bench to make space for her. that’s all she needs.

she walks across the empty floor slowly, skates swinging from one hand. she sits beside you, like the months between now and the last time meant nothing. or maybe they meant everything.

she finally breaks the silence with a voice that was barely above a whisper. “i skate better when you’re here.”

you turn to her and she’s already looking at you. “i don’t know why i said that,” she adds, flustered now.

but you do. you know exactly why.

you lean your shoulder against hers and she leans back, like muscle memory.

neither of you speak again for a long time. but the familiarity of the silence is inevitable. like no matter how far you run, this was always where you’d end up.

sitting next to each other.

taglist — @saysirhc @prologue-ae @yuyuy90

#like a fever — yjm #aespa #aespa imagines #aespa x fem reader #aespa karina #aespa yu jimin #karina x fem reader #karina x reader #yu jimin x reader #yu jimin x fem reader #wlw #wlw post #wlw yearning #sapphic yearning #angst #hurt/comfort #slow burn #angst with a happy ending

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