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januaryembrs · 5 months

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THE KID SWINGS BACK | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [4]

Description: The THREE times things feel weird between Spencer and you because you're just best friends.

Length: 21k (this is HALF of what I wrote for this chapter before I split it into two parts :0)

Warnings: explicit hints of suicidal ideation, as I have said in the last two chapters, Bugsy has really struggled with losing Emily and has been in a bad place. it is mentioned once or twice but please read with caution if you feel topics of mental health, not vividly described but the effects of it, are mentioned. Spencer's addiction is also mentioned. Violence, blood, swearing, usual CM warnings. Also there is a brief mention of SA (bugsy gets spanked by a stranger in a casino), again if this is triggering please be cautious. EXPLOSION. Emily and bug argue + fight. Bug + hatch fight. Bugsy takes no prisoners in this one won't lie. Spencer and bugsy turn each other on accidentally.

authors note: this was supposed to be a lot longer (I've had to split it with the next part released in a few days time) and yet every time I tried to upload to Tumblr, it crashed because it was over 30k words ;-; OTHER HALF IS COMING SOON.

previous chpt | next chapter

‘If you take a swing, the kid swings back,

she say I’m not your punching bag,’

The one where Emily comes back.

She felt the headache as soon as she woke up. She’d experimented with Molly her first week of college, hated every second of it after she had prattled on for two hours to some other random freshman about the breakthrough research in enzyme-replacement therapy like she was catching him up on an episode of the Kardashians. She’d tried the odd few brownies, though they usually turned her stomach the next day and made her paranoid for about a week, before she swore them off entirely for their yummy, sober counterpart.

She should have known what to expect when she woke up, but then again, if she had been smart enough to pre-empt how awful she’d feel the next day, she probably wouldn’t have taken the little pink pill with a candied love heart on the top at all.

The duvet was soft against her face, and for a moment she didn’t care about anything except chasing the warmth it provided; just that she was cosy and it smelled nice, smelled familiar.

Her eyes pinged open when she realised that whatever that familiar smell was, it was very much not her own sheets. And she was very much not in the clothes she left the house in last night.

Bugsy sat up too fast, that much she knew, because in the time it had taken her to swing her legs over the edge of the bed, reach for the side table where she hoped to find her phone, a home phone, or just any working phone she could call someone off, she felt the room that smelled like a dream spinning around her.

Her legs turned to jelly, her stomach tossed with a mix of nerves and nausea, and, graceful as ever, she fell face first to the ground with a thud, smacking her temple off the corner of the bedpost on her way down.

“Fuck,” She whined, raising a hand to her brow that thudded with more than the side affects of last night, and she was quick to hear footsteps approaching as if in a half run. The door to the bedroom dragged on the thick sherpa carpet as it swung open, and she blinked wearily up at the culprit.

“Alright, up we get,” There were hands slipping under hers before she got a chance to see anything that wasn’t a blurry mess of brown hair and worried eyes, and it wasn’t until she heard his voice she felt herself sigh in relief, “Of course you wake up the second I turn around,”

“Sencer?,” She cleared her throat, hands latching onto his shoulders as he lifted her back onto the bed, “Spencer?” She tried again, her lips chapped, her skin clammy.

“Good morning, to you too,” His voice was soft, quieter than usual, like he knew just how delicate her head was and changed his tone accordingly, “Did you sleep well?”

“Morgan- where’s Morgan, I thought we…” She murmured, turning her head in confusion to the window where Spence had gone so far as to pull the curtains closed for her, seeing just the smallest crack of daylight filtering over the bed sheets. Her hands ran down his chest, her eyes lost and dazed, like someone had taken her batteries out, and Spencer took it as an opportunity to hand her the glass of water he’d got her and two advil.

“Morgan’s safe; he went home, he said he had a wonderful night,” Spencer lied, hoping she was just a little out of it that she didn’t catch him in it. She always knew when he was lying. But, as he’d suspected, she barely picked up on it, her lips pouting in confusion when she took note of the medicine he’d given her, “Drink up, Morgan said you did a lot of dancing last night, you’re probably dehydrated.”

“I did…” She echoed him, trailing off when the blur of the nightclub caught up to her, and she remembered exactly the last time someone had handed her a little tablet like those ones. Her heart plummeted, her eyes widening into saucers, and she swore she might have felt the glass crack beneath her palm with how tight her grip became. She looked up at him, and instantly picked apart the pity and the sadness swimming in his honey pooled eyes, “You know,”

He nodded softly, his hand coming up to stroke her hair away from her face, his gaze falling to where she felt something sore and achy forming on her forehead, bleeding into her brow.

“Spence-” Her own groan of pain cut her off when he brushed over the bump on her temple, and she understood she had perhaps hit it much harder than she’d initially thought.

“Let’s get you breakfast, and then we’ll talk,” He whispered softly, concern thick in his voice, and for the first time in months, she didn’t fight it. She just listened, and let him love her.

“God, I am truly pathetic,” She muttered, sipping her coffee with a scowl in between the maple ladened pancakes going down with a vicious chomp on her fork. Her other hand was occupied holding a bag of frozen peas to her head, where a nice dark bruise was spreading its way over the right side of her face, spider webbing out into a black eye.

“You’re not pathetic, everyone makes mistakes,” Spencer tried reassuring her, but he couldn’t help but smile as she devoured breakfast with the anger of a raccoon being dragged from a garbage bin, “You’re safe, that’s all that matters,”

She sighed, and Spencer didn’t actually think she had ever been so grumpy around him before, “Spencer, look at me,” He did, he had been all morning, but he did as he was told anyway, “I’m a federal agent who took molly from a frat boy all because I can’t just grieve like a normal person and cry my pathetic little heart out and be done with it. I crashed your night because I can’t even handle a little ecstasy without needing supervision and I just got into a fight with your bedframe,” She finished with a huff, dipping her next mouthful of pancake in the puddle of maple syrup she’d created on the plate, “And the fucking bedframe won.”

He smiled despite himself, reaching out to hold her wrist gently, making sure it was her turn to listen to him now, “Bug, I grew up being shoved into lockers and swirlied my whole life. I was the only kid in a classful of seniors that used to wedgie me so hard I had to have the school librarian, Mrs Addler, walk me between classes. Believe me, I’ve seen pathetic and you’re not- why are you crying, Bug, don’t cry,”

He remembered this bit, the mood swings, when he would pendulum between exhaustion and irritation straight into sadness and hopelessness, like there would never be an impasse between them unless he did more of the thing that had made him feel so awful in the first place. Still, he gently took the bag of now slightly soggy peas from her head, wrapping an arm around her back and scooching his chair to sit next to hers as she dropped onto his shoulder with a weepy sniff.

“I’m crying because I just thought of baby you all alone with Mrs Addler-” She sobbed loudly, and his heart bled out in his chest with warmth. No one had ever cried for him. “How could they be so cruel to you, I swear if we ever see those bastards, I’ll show them how we settled things in Russia-”

He chuckled, shaking his head, and she snuggled closer to him the way she had last night when the only thing keeping her on earth had been his body heat.

“It wasn’t all bad, she used to share her butterscotch with me,” He said with a small smile when she raised a wet glance at him.

“You know, you never have to be alone again, right?” Bugsy murmured, and he swore his heart might have just jumped right up into his mouth then and there, “You’re my best friend in the whole world, and I promise I’ll never leave you again. That was… selfish of me, I’m sorry I was so selfish.”

Spencer felt his throat tighten as he looked at her, innocent and entirely truthful, like he could ask anything from her right this second and her god’s honest words would be ‘Anything for you, Spencer, I’d do anything for you.’ He had never had anyone look at him like that, nothing even close.

“You’re my best friend too. And you weren’t selfish, you were grieving,” He choked out, and she tucked herself beneath his chin then, satisfied with the response, but his stomach turned sour when he remembered what he was going to tell her last night, what he should have told her months, years, ago instead of lying to her. Because he knew she would understand, knew she would get him the way no one else had even tried to, because she was just her. “I have to tell you something,”

She sat up straight, sensing the seriousness in his tone, and looked at him with imploring eyes, still sleep-addled and slightly wet around the edges.

He cleared his throat, “When I told you I was allergic to narcotics since I was born, that wasn’t entirely true, and I’m sorry I lied to you,” Her brows softened, creasing in a way that told him she was worried, or she knew where he was heading but couldn’t find a voice in her to say anything. He ran clammy palms over his pyjama pants, “There was a case, a while back, where we were tracking an UnSub to this farmhouse in the middle of Atlanta. Me and JJ got split up and the UnSub took me hostage in his father’s shed,”

She stayed quiet, but she quickly took his hand in hers when she saw him fidgeting with it in his lap. He smiled at her weakly, and squeezed her fingers gently, telling her he was okay to talk about it no matter if his chest was rattling and his face felt like fire.

“He was very sick, the UnSub. Tobias. He took on an alter of his dead father because he couldn't handle life without him. Even though his father was extremely violent and abusive, he still loved him enough to never want to let him go,” His lip pulled between his teeth for a moment, and he couldn’t look at her for what he was about to say, “Tobias tried giving me something to stop the pain of his father’s beatings when he would front and being a drug addict himself, the best thing he had was dilaudid. So, he gave it to me for the three days I was with him before the team found me,”

“Spence,” She said softly, knowing he would hate to hear an ‘I’m sorry’ because she hated those two words with a passion, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,”

“No, I want to, it’s just a little… fuzzy in parts,” He whispered, and she nodded, gently knocking her head against his jaw to let him know she was there to listen, “After the case wrapped up, everyone got home and just sort of pretended things went back to normal, even though I felt like I was drowning in everything that had happened, and the only thing I could think that had stopped the pain was the dilaudid. So I took more, and more, until I was using every other day, sometimes even at work to cope with the cases,”

“Did anyone know?” She asked, lips pressed tight as she scolded herself for talking, but he stroked her hand with his thumb to show he didn’t care if she asked questions, “Did Emily know?”

He nodded gingerly, “Everyone knew, but no one could do anything, or say anything, because otherwise Hotch would have to file a report on me, and I’d be forced to leave the team,”

“So no one helped?” She said, and there was an unexpected trace of anger in her tone that he knew too well. He’d be lying if he said that there were more than a handful of times when he was at his lowest he didn’t curse the team out for not giving a single shit about his condition. But when he’d sobered up, when he’d got clean and back to his usual self, he knew they were trying to do what was best, that they were in uncharted waters as to what would be the correct approach to helping him that wouldn’t diffuse a bomb that could ruin all of their careers.

“There was nothing they could do, Bug. If they said anything they would be just as liable as me for what I was doing, the same way Morgan and I aren’t going to say a word about what happened last night,” He pointed out, and she seemed bitter as if she knew he was right but hated the point of it anyway.

She held onto herself for long enough hearing that, and he saw it coming before it came as a shock when she threw her arms around him, hugging him tighter than she ever had before, not crying like she had been, but full to the brim of sadness and grief and mourning, as if she was trying to squeeze it all out of him so she could take it on for herself.

“You’re never going to be alone again, I swear, Spencer,”

And he believed her with everything in him.

–

Bugsy had been back in the field for five weeks now, looking healthier than ever thanks to Hotch’s insistence she joined Beth for triathlon practice despite the fact she really had started feeling more like herself.

It had only taken six months, but who was counting, right?

Sure, walking past Emily’s desk had stopped her in her tracks the first day she got back, and Morgan had quickly jumped in to distract her with a cup of coffee, leading her over to the kitchenette and far away from the empty table her sister’s things had once been on.

She was still adjusting to this alternate reality version of the BAU where Emily wasn’t there to protect her and watch out for her, and where they didn’t bicker about who got to ride shotgun with Hotch because Bug loved when he would drive fast (he pretended not to notice but would floor it when they hit the freeway), or when they would butt heads over who finished off the biscuits Emily kept in her secret stash (it was almost always Bugsy sharing them with Spencer and Penelope, when the three of them would gossip in Pen’s lair at lunchtime.)

She was adjusting, slowly yes, but there was one thing to keep her going, to keep her holding her head high as she walked past Emily’s picture on the way, full of smiles and dark hair the day she’d been instated in the bureau, her excitement tangible even through a piece of paper and a thin sheet of glass.

There was one thing keeping her going, and it wasn’t Penelope’s cheerful good mornings she showered her in the minute she entered the building, it wasn’t Beth’s runs that would take everything out of her even though she felt stronger than she ever had, it wasn’t Rossi’s insistence on cooking for her once or twice a week because ‘he had more wine he could ever need alone and she could stir the pasta while he chopped the meat’, and it wasn’t even Spencer sticking to her side like damn velcro since she had been back. Although, they played a pretty big part in it.

No, the one thing keeping her going was revenge.

Morgan had let it slip accidentally, the morning she had come back into the headquarters to fill in some forms with Hotch and Strauss before Hotch was reassigned to Pakistan, when she had slinked into his office with an apology ready at her lips for the way she had behaved, to which he was going to say he had no idea what she was talking about because that was how things had to be, only to find file upon file upon caseload on Ian Doyle splayed all over his desk, and she quickly realised Derek was not one to let sleeping dogs lie either.

And, reluctantly, he had let her help, because he hated the idea of them keeping secrets from her. Especially ones that involved them secretly tracking down the guy who killed her sister, who had threatened to abduct, torture and kill her if Emily hadn’t gone after him first.

Because Bugsy was always going to be her little sister, no matter how grown and headstrong and stubborn as an ass she was. And Emily had had zero intention of letting Bugsy come even close to danger at the hands of Ian Doyle or any other motherfucker dumb enough to think they’d get away unscathed making threats to her sister. Which was why Emily had been the one to track him down first, no matter who she had to trample on, what lines she had to cross.

And now it was Bug’s turn to reciprocate the favour.

The one thing that bounced around her head with every step she took across the BAU floor was how Ian Doyle would look when she dragged him to hell and back and everything in between, when she made him burn the way she had burnt.

Hotch had been away on temporary duty for the month, bar the occasional phone call where he checked in on her directly or through Spencer, and it wasn’t until she walked into Morgan in a blunt exchange with his own cell that she realised he was perhaps closer to coming home than she’d thought.

The man nodded, and bid the mystery caller goodbye before he flicked a look up to where Bugsy had entered his office with a cup of to-go coffee and an expression of intrigue.

“We got him,” Morgan said, and it was the three words she had been waiting to hear for two hundred and fifteen days.

They had found Doyle.

She was in the back of an SUV not even two hours later, strapped to her neck with tactical gear and two loaded pistols holstered at her hips.

“You’re sure you’re alright to do this?” JJ asked from her place beside her, noting the way the girl’s leg was bouncing, her fingers twitching as the three of them crowded around the screen linked to the surveillance camera set up outside Doyle’s apartment, Spencer and David watching an identical feed in the next block over, outside the safe house his son, Declan, was supposed to be in.

Only, when they’d arrived, the little blonde haired, blue eyed boy that was the only thing Doyle gave a damn about in the world was gone, two agents and his nanny lying dead on the floor.

“Put it this way, JJ, I’m going in after that son of a bitch whether you guys cover me or not, and it would be real nice to have back up,” Bugsy said simply, like she was reciting the weather, not ready to rain hellfire on anyone who got in between her and wringing Doyle’s neck.

The blonde woman exchanged a look with Derek, the two of them cautious about her behaviour, but thought better than to try stop her when she had just as much right as any of them for justice.

Before any of them could say another word, a car sped around the corner of the cul-de-sac, veering and wavering between parked cars, narrowly missing theirs by an inch, and red-blue blaring lights came racing after it within seconds, the siren full blast and no doubt waking the neighbours.

Or at least one neighbour in particular, as they spotted the curtains twitching in Doyle’s apartment, and they had their first sign of life in hours.

“He’s in there, someone’s in there,” Bugsy pointed to where the fabric moved in the dead of the night, unholstering one of her weapons and bursting the back door to the SUV open.

JJ clicked her radio on, speaking into her shoulder as Morgan was a hair width behind Bugsy, equally armed and ready, “We got movement on Doyle, we’re heading up to search his apartment,”

“Be careful, keep an eye on the kid,” Rossi ordered, he and Spencer adjusting their positions in their SUV, waiting for forensics to show up and investigate the nanny’s house. Spencer licked his lips nervously, and he could only imagine what was going through Bugsy’s mind at that moment, wishing more than ever she could have just stayed with him and let Morgan and JJ catch Doyle.

But she would never. She had nearly ripped Rossi’s head off for suggesting it even.

–

She’d seen him move up to the roof, had taken the stairs in twos, and she felt like kissing Aaron the second she saw him for all that cardio paying off a treat. She heard Morgan panting behind her, urging her to wait up so she wasn’t going in alone, but she didn’t listen, not when she was this close to getting that rat in her grasp and squeezing the life out of him barehanded.

She kicked down the door leading to the roof from the stairwell, her pistol drawn high and sharp and Morgan’s steps racing up behind her were the only sound for a moment.

He was here somewhere, watching them, god only hoped they had caught him unaware before he could call in his own backup.

Taking a careful step out onto the concrete, willing herself to take a deep breath and calm herself; she checked her nine o’clock, checked her three, before her boots crunched under her and she moved further out onto the roofing. Flicking a look around again, her eyes squinted against the moonlight that did little to no good, searching for even the smallest movements that would give him away.

“I heard you wanted to see me, Doyle,” She said loudly, hoping he would fit the profile they’d put together and want to tie up his loose ends once he realised who she was, “Truth is, I’ve been wanting to see you too,”

She had barely a second to react as she felt something hard slam across the back of her head, and she realised he had hit her with a rogue, loose pipe, hard enough for her to stumble forward, dropping her pistol when his body soon followed to tackle her completely to the ground in the effort to grab for the gun himself.

But she felt like body was alive with excitement, like the pain in her skull didn’t ache, didn’t matter, because she had him in her reach.

It took her barely a second to bring her elbow into his stomach, winding him hard enough he weakened his grip on top of her, then another hit square across his jaw, another to his temple, one to his already crooked nose and she threw a downward thump into his groin for good measure.

He hissed, cursing her something vile, and it was only then she saw the grey-blue eyes of the man who had killed her sister with no remorse, who had taken the person she loved unconditionally within a blink of an eye.

“You recognise me?” She said, a manic smile on her face as she raised the other gun from its holster, kicking him hard in the knee she’d seen him limping on, a bullet wound shaped scar giving his weakness away in seconds.

She wasn’t the only enemy he’d made in that business of his, but she sure as hell would be his last one.

He fell to the floor, his eyes wary as he looked up at the girl he had spent weeks collating photos of, the girl he’d had two of his best men tracking, snapping pictures of her going about her day to day life before he sent them to Emily. Because she would know what that meant no words needed.

This was her sister. Her little sister she had fought tooth and nail for, that she had given her life for. Her sister, who had the same rock solid loyalty to her family as Lauren had.

“Do you want to know where you went wrong, Doyle?” She asked, and her voice wasn’t calm like her body was, it was hiding the glee she was taking from his alarmed expression, like they both knew she was the last person he would have expected to be grabbing him in the night, “Your mistake, Doyle, was not killing me first,”

She raised her finger to the trigger, feeling for a second the same thrill as when she popped that molly just to forget everything that was happening. Because she had tunnel vision, and pulling the plug on Ian Doyle’s pathetic existence was the solution.

Until Morgan’s hand came over hers, and his voice was closer than she’d expected to her ear. She’d barely heard him creep up on her, she realised with a jolt.

“Don’t do this, kid,”

“He deserves it,” She spat, hating the sorrow in his voice when he pointed the gun away from Doyle who wiped his fingers beneath his nostrils and pulled back with a wince and a blob of blood over the back of his hand.

“I know he does. But we need to find Declan, and we can’t do that without him,” Morgan’s voice was deep and bitter, knowing full well he had to be the one to take the reins as much as he would love to just let her have at him.

Her nose scrunched in disgust when Doyle laughed at her annoyance, and she quickly holstered her weapon, pulling the cuffs out of her back pocket and helping Morgan yank him off the floor.

“I got some friends that would love to meet you, honey,” Doyle said through a wheezing breath, despite Morgan’s rough hands shoving him forward towards the stairwell.

She chuckled however, her face still bitter, her eyes something nasty and wild as she flanked his other side, “Don’t worry, I have some friends for you to play with too, Doyle.” She tightened her grip on his arm just to make it hurt, “I wonder how the Chernuses would feel about you and your men being so close to their turf. You ever fucked with the Russian Mob, Ian?”

His smile wiped clean off his face at that.

“How’s it going?” Hotch asked, and she barely had time to comment on the fact he looked rather dashing with a beard and a tan, or that he had lost ten pounds, before he was straight back to business, even after an eighteen hour flight.

“He won’t talk. He said the only person who could have helped us find Gerace would have been Emily.” She replied, rubbing her hands over her eyes with a huff, “Just another dead end,” She threw the file onto the roundtable, which was slowly piling up with documents relating to anyone Ian Doyle had ever had relations with.

Hotch’s face tightened. He took a single moment to enjoy the calm that overcame the room, took a second to enjoy the fact she was looking normal and healthy compared to when he had all but barged into her apartment to force her on a run.

Because he knew the normalcy they had found themselves in now was about to be flipped on its head, JJ confirming with a nod from the other side of the room that she was on her way.

He turned to look where Morgan, Rossi and Reid had walked in, Reid stroking a gentle hand over Bugsy’s hair where she hunched over the table and flicked through some files for anything to keep her mind off of going into that interrogation room and ripping into Doyle. She flicked a small smile up at him as he passed her, leaning over her shoulder to take half her workload off her.

She looked happier than she had in months, and he was about to take it all away again. Hotch swallowed the self loathing that threatened to choke him alive, and opened his mouth.

“Everybody have a seat,” The team looked up at him in confusion, but followed orders, JJ moving around the table to stand beside him, the same reluctant look on her face when she saw Bugsy’s frown.

“Why?” Morgan asked, seeing as no one else was going to, “What’s going on? Everything alright?”

“Seven months ago, I made a decision that affected this team,” Hotch began, his eyes immediately flicking to where the youngest Prentiss faltered, “As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilise her,”

Bugsy’s ears started ringing just hearing her sister’s name coming from his lips, said so casually and blunt that it felt like he had punched her in the stomach and she thought she was maybe over estimating how well she had overcome the grief.

And that hadn’t even been the worst part, she quickly realised. The doctors were able to stabilise her.

“And she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfiltration. Her identity was strictly need to know. She was reassigned to Paris where she was given several identities, none of which we had access to for her security,” Hotch said, avoiding the piercing eyes that were slowly melting between confusion to heartache to one she finally could land on, horror.

No one breathed for a moment, no one said a thing as the words sunk in, and she felt her entire body wash over with a gut wrenching numbness as it dawned on her what he was saying.

Emily never died on that table like JJ had said. She had never died at all.

“What?” Her voice was tiny and childlike when it came out, and she felt like she was stuck in the world’s worst nightmare, like she could claw and scratch and rip at her skin just to wake herself up from this terrifying dream where Hotch had lied and Emily had left her and everyone who was supposed to care about her had kept her in the dark.

“She’s alive?” Garcia asked, tears in her own green lined eyes, looking at Hotch with utter shock.

“But we buried her,” Spencer found it in himself to murmur, because none of this made sense and if any of what Hotch was saying was true, then he knew things were about to become really ugly.

“As I said I take full responsibility for the decision; if anyone has any issues, they should be directed towards me,” And it was only then he looked at Bugsy fully, properly, since he had opened his mouth.

He could have swore he had never seen such complete and utter betrayal written across someone’s face, let alone directed towards him. Because he knew that’s what it was. He knew he had taken every scrap and shred of trust she had placed in him since that day she ran away from her own wedding and found herself stuck in that very same office, hugging him tightly with her sodden veil and even more soaked white dress, he had taken everything vulnerable she had ever given him and spat it right back at her.

He felt like crying but before he could think too hard about it, he saw Emily walking down the hall and her own face was just as, if not more, devastated than his own and he knew he had to be the one to stay strong.

Garcia’s head snapped to the doorway, the sight of it leading Spencer and Rossi to do the same, and Morgan’s face morphed into anguish when he took a look for himself.

Because there, looking like a glowing beacon of everything they’d been missing in seven months, was Emily Prentiss, alive and well.

She seemed lost for words, her eyes falling to her sister who seemed to force herself to look up at her from where she was staring in wide eyed terror at the table, as if she was struggling to comprehend any of this, or like the building was falling down around her and she was in complete fight, flight or freeze.

But she did, she looked up at her after a second, her face unrecognisable to Emily for a moment, and it took all of three moments where she seemed relieved to see her, before it curled into a vitriolic anger Emily had never, never seen from her.

She looked like she was ready to kill her with her bare hands herself.

Penelope was first out of her seat, practically flying across the room to grab her close friend in a hug, a complete bubble of sobs and wails, her pigtails shaking with her rattling chest as Emily hugged her tight to her.

“Oh, my god, it’s real-you’re real- like I can actually touch you and you’re safe and not in that god awful box-” Penelope was a catalyst for the rest of the team standing up to take their turn crying on the woman’s shoulder.

That is, the rest of the team except Bugsy.

She remained in her seat, her gaze falling back to the mess of files that all of a sudden felt a complete waste of time, felt irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. Who cared who was Doyle’s financial advisor between the years of 2005 and 2007 when Emily was alive and they had known the whole time.

And the more she thought, the more furious she got. And then the more furious she got, the stiller she became; an atomic bomb ready to detonate at the slightest prod.

“I am so sorry, I really am,” Emily said as Spencer had wrapped his giant arms around her tentatively, smelling her perfume and feeling his heart ache with how warm and alive and healthy her body felt. “Not a day went by that I didn’t-”

But a sound cut her off, one none of them were expecting in the slightest.

Bugsy was laughing.

Not the sweet chirp she normally gave, or the hearty one that came from her gut that they hadn’t heard in months, but something manic. Something frenzied, beserk. Deranged.

Hotch’s head snapped to her, Emily’s too, though she had already taken note of the fact her sister hadn’t so much as moved from her feet, and stupidly she had hoped it was the shock sinking in.

But her eyes were cruel, her teeth more of a snarl than a smile and the laugh she gave was that of a person over the edge.

The straw that broke the camel’s back, she believed it was called.

“She never made it off the table,” Bugsy imitated woefully, her eyes snapping to JJ, who felt smaller than she ever had under the hatred in them, though the girl’s nasty smile hadn’t let up, “You are good, Jennifer. You really got me there, hey maybe if the agent thing doesn’t work out then acting is alway an option for you,”

“Bug-” Hotch started, only for her to stand up so harshly her chair nearly tipped back, but she didn’t seem to care as she rounded the table towards him in a bitter chuckle.

“And you! I didn’t know you had it in you. But very good, Hotch, very well played out. For a second I thought you actually gave a fuck about me,” She fist bumped his shoulder, a little harsher than something innocent behind it, before something spiteful settled in her tone, “But then again, you are nothing if not professional, aren’t you? I guess a suicide on your team would look terrible on your report card,”

“I think you need to calm down and let’s talk about this for a second,” Hotch tried to jump in, his brows furrowed enough to make him look annoyed but anyone with two eyes could see the worry that brewed there, that chased her as she retreated to where her jacket was slung over the back of her seat. She laughed again viciously, shaking her head. Grabbing her coat, she headed for the door where Emily stood helplessly, not knowing what to say for the best, and she thought for a minute her little sister was going to address her.

But she didn’t; didn’t even look her way as she approached, and it wasn’t until Hotch rounded the room after her with a fixed gaze she showed any sign of stopping. Not until he reached for her arm with a tight grip, a call of her name, did she even halt in her step.

“Stop, let’s just talk,”

“Let go of me,” Bugsy snapped, and it was the first time she actually gave way to the anger she felt, the amusement coming from a place of distraught long gone. She sounded pissed.

“Listen to me, we had no choice here,” Hotch barked, because it was the only way he could communicate when he felt this lost. And that’s what he was; he was losing her. They all were. “And I would have thought you’d be able to stop being so spoiled for one god damn second to see we were protecting-”

Her palm whirled around faster than he could have ever anticipated, slapping clean and sharp against his cheek, hard enough the air was sucked out of the room and his words died in his throat.

Penelope gasped. Spencer’s eyes widened. Emily took a heavy gulp.

“Bugsy!” Emily said in horror, and it was then her little sister’s eyes actually set on hers, every bit as cruel and hateful she’d expected.

“I want nothing to do with you, do you hear me? I don’t want to talk to you, or see you, don’t even speak that name, I don’t want it from you anymore,” Bugsy pointed at her with crooked, bitten nails Emily knew all too well, “You left me. You left me.”

With those three choked words, the other’s could only watch hurricane Bugsy whirl and burn and crash her way out of the room.

–

She sat on the steps to the federal building, perfectly dressed agents filtering around her with the occasional tut in disgust.

She couldn’t really blame them; her face was wet with tears, she was pretty sure there was snot running out of her nose hastily, and between her free hand, the other of which was pulling at her hair, was a cigarette that swirled its grey smoke around her head with a horribly addictive smell.

She heard footsteps approaching her from the back, different from the rest, and felt someone stop beside her, sliding to their ass on the step.

“Spencer, if you’re going to tell me this is taking seven minutes off my life then please can it wait for another day-” Bugsy started with a tearful cadence, only to be cut off by a woman’s voice.

“I was actually going to ask if you had a lighter,” Erin Strauss said, pulling her own menthol cigarette between her lips, and Bugsy dug around her pocket for the cheap ‘I <3 Virginia’ lighter she had snagged on New Years, clicking the flame out long enough for her boss’s boss to light the tip, “I heard you gave Aaron a shock,”

Bugsy stayed silent, taking a drag that burnt her lips and tasted awful, but it was the only thing she could turn to that would calm her even in the slightest, even if it was just the chemicals.

“Bit of an understatement,” She mused, exhaling softly with a frown, “Did you know?”

“Are you going to slap me too if I said yes?” Erin asked, and Bugsy gave a small, wet chuckle, shaking her head, “Would it matter if I did?”

“No, I guess not,” She replied, breathing in through her nose, “I want to feel sorry, but all I feel is just … empty. Why did JJ and Hotch know what happened to her but she didn’t think to tell her own sister?”

“Probably because you’re the one she loves the most,” Strauss picked over the hem of her navy blue midi dress that had been pressed neatly just that morning, and now here she was sitting on the steps to her building helping a girl in crisis chainsmoke, “It was how she ended up there in the first place, right? Because she wanted to protect you,”

“She left me torturing myself for months that her death was all my fault; believe me protection was not what I needed,” Bugsy said harshly, her final drag reaching the brown stub, and she scowled as she doubted it on the concrete floor below her, tucking her knees up to her face and resting her head on them.

Erin sighed, patting her on the back gently, not wanting to cross any lines for such a fragile girl, but not wanting to leave her entirely alone either.

“Our most basic instinct is not for survival but for family.” Strauss quoted, taking one more breath of her own cigarette before she squished it under her heel quickly. “Paul Pearsall,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bug asked quietly, tilting her head onto her cheek to look over at the woman.

“It means you can hate her as much as you can right now, but sooner or later, you’re going to need her, or she’s going to need you, and you’ll wish you never pushed each other away,”

2. The one where you pretend to be a couple.

Her hair was shorter, Bugsy noted, where she saw the back of her sister’s head from her desk. It looked nice, not that she would tell her that.

She wouldn’t tell her anything.

It had been eight weeks, three of which Bugsy had spent taking a leave of absence and been forced to see the designated federal councillor for her behaviour towards Hotch. She had gone to the handful of sessions to keep him off her back, but had stayed quiet for most of them, except the one where she got the psychologist to tell her the dirt on her recent, messy break up so they’d have something to talk about at least.

She had only really been speaking to Spencer the weeks since she had returned to work, had handed the slip of paper that declared her fit to work to Hotch with a smug look on her face, daring him to extend her sick leave as punishment for the tantrum she’d thrown.

She knew it was dragging, knew most of the team were at least trying to adjust to the shellshock of Emily being back from the dead, but then again, the rest of the team hadn’t been writing their own eulogy so the burden wouldn’t fall onto someone else if they ever found her unresponsive.

In the time Emily had supposedly been dead, her mind had wandered someone cold and dark and alone. Worse than any of them had ever thought it had been, worse than they gave her credit for.

Only for it to be fake. As though she was the star of her own Truman show, with a laugh track playing on loop in the back; her own friends, people she’d considered family, watching her kicking and screaming and fighting through every breath for some sort of relief from the pain, a pawn in their little sitcom of horrors.

Morgan had forgiven her sister with little resistance. She’d always known that, to Morgan, trust was higher than anything in his books. Yet with some soft words and tears shed, Derek had cracked and accepted Emily back warmly like nothing had happened. Rossi and Penelope had just been happy to see her, happy to have her back and very much not dead, so convincing them she was innocent had been no big feat. The only other person who had put up nearly as much fight as her had been Spencer. He had told her about the spat he and JJ had gotten into for being an accomplice to their pain, but even he was beginning to warm back up to her sister, not that she could really blame him.

Emily was putting in overtime trying to get back into her good books, while she couldn’t even stand to look at her without remembering how hard she’d cried when she realised Nico and Sergio would be in her apartment alone and confused if she had been sad enough to do something rash.

“Good Morning,” Emily’s voice was nails in a chalkboard, two arms winding over her shoulder to plonk two take out coffees in front of her and Spencer, one with his name written in black ink on the lid and the other with a dozen hearts dotted over the cup, a little doodle of a lady bug and a bumble bee cuddling. What she supposed was meant to be the two of them.

Spencer watched Bugsy fight the urge to roll her eyes, surprisingly somewhat progress for her since the first two weeks of Emily even being near her resulted in the two of them screaming at one another until they were separated. Emily was growing tired of being punished for trying to keep her sister safe, Bugsy was full of hatred for every lie they had told her.

But he saw the way she immediately knocked the coffee into the trash without a second thought, ignoring the fact she would need to take out a very heavy and wet bin liner later, if only to drive the point home to her older sister. I don’t want your charity.

Emily faltered for a second, her eyes snapping to him as if he could do or say anything to help her out, but he could only give her one of his awkward, straight smiles, because he had absolutely no intention of pushing Bugsy to heal any faster than she was doing like everyone else was, nor did he want Emily to feel like he didn’t care she was hurting too.

Emily gave a resigned nod, daring to pat her sister on the shoulder. “Better in the trash than thrown over my face, right?”

She moved away from the woman’s desk, shooting a disheartened look at Reid as she passed him and he murmured ‘thankyou’ for his own coffee, until the sound of JJ calling them into the round table room cut off whatever she was going to say back.

Spencer thoughtlessly handed Bugsy his own latte, smothered with caramel and cream the way he liked it, and she took an appreciative sip without a word.

He hadn’t brought up that night, hadn’t spoken about the way she’d pressed her lips to his for a split second the night Morgan had dragged her over to his apartment to sober up. And because she hadn’t brought it up either, he assumed she didn’t want to talk about it anymore than she wanted to talk about what had got her there in the first place.

He had helped her brush her own teeth more than once in the early days of her grief, hell he had even had her lips against his, so when she handed him the coffee cup back, he didn’t think much of it when he continued drinking the hot caffeinated goodness.

Bugsy was wired differently in his brain, everything about her was different than how he felt about everyone else. So if she didn’t want to talk about kissing him, if she wanted to forget it ever happened, then he would swallow his feelings and accept she didn’t ever want to do it again. If she wanted to keep the bond they had carefully crafted through days and months and weeks of being each other’s solace, then he wouldn’t fight it. Because he didn’t want to ruin it either.

He just nudged her gently with his shoulder as they meandered up the stairs to the round table room, looking at her with the puppy dog eyes that usually followed her around when she was in one of her silent moods.

“You okay?” He asked carefully, noting the way she tugged her files to her chest, smiling up at him nevertheless. Because she could never be mad at him, it was Spencer.

“You don’t have to do that, you know?” She said, lowering her voice as Morgan trailed behind the two of them his own mug of fresh brewed coffee sloshing in his hand, “Pretend like you don’t forgive her for my sake. I want you to be friends again if that’s what you want,”

She’d noticed his sheepish glances when he met Emily’s gaze, unmoving from her side like he wanted to make it clear he was there for her above everything else. But she saw how he would smile and joke with her sister when he thought she was in the bathroom, or when they would return from a crime scene, working together again like a well oiled machine.

They were still friends, even if she felt sick every time she saw her sister’s noir black bangs flick her way, even if her heart was aching and her chest heavier than she would have ever let on.

“But you’re upset with her?” Spencer muttered back, with a frown on his face, “I’m upset you got so hurt by the whole thing. I’m essentially hurt by proxy,”

She snickered, leaning into his side for a moment, pulling away when they reached Rossi’s office and began walking past the long window she saw everyone settling down behind, “I appreciate that, Spence, I do. But you were her friend first, and she’s my sister. It’s different for you guys. And it’s not like we’re dating, because then I’d be allowed to be upset if you were still friends with her,” She explained lightly, though she felt her chest pick up at the very fact she had let that silly little dating word slip past her lips.

She had no idea where they were. He was the only thing keeping her together some days, the only one who understood her for all her silly, complex feelings and didn’t make her feel dumb or crazy for feeling the world so deeply. He was special to her in a way no guy had ever even come close.

She just wished she hadn’t made such an idiot of herself that night with Morgan; wished she remembered anything of what was said or done, because things had felt electrified since then and she had no idea why. All she knew was she was falling harder for him every time he stood so close, or offered her his drink, or every time they had a movie night at his and fell asleep on his couch pressed together like they were meant to be that way forever.

He sighed, still stuck on the situation, and shot her a frown, “I’ll never understand the rules,” Though he hoped she didn’t see how his cheeks tinged pink at the fact she’d brought up whatever it was between them too.

Because he wasn’t entirely talking about her and Emily. Sometimes, he really didn’t understand the rules of telling your best friend you were in love with her.

The press was calling him “The Circle of Eight killer,” no matter how much media liaison JJ had tried to do to stop them from giving him notoriety and possibly boosting an already inflated ego. But the team had already managed to profile that the killings were some sort of ritual the UnSub was using to turn his luck on a gambling addiction, or whatever suspicion he had mentally linked from the victims needing to die and being dealt a royal flush.

“Eighty eight dollars, the UnSub’s getting generous,” She said grimly, her gloved fingers counting the wad of cash tossed over the victim’s body. Where they had usually found eight, single dollar bills and an eight card of any suit, his signature seemed to have changed on the most recent body and he had dumped a much larger sum of money, “There’s more remorse with this kill too; shot from behind so he didn’t have to see the victim when he did it,”

Bugsy slipped the cash into a clear baggie to send to forensics to see if they could pull prints, but then again bills usually gave a million possible UnSubs with how many people touched them. “There’s less rage here, an undoing,” Emily chimed in, her own gloved fingers checking the victim’s pockets for anything off.

When they were in the field, Bug could hold her eye rolls and sharp tongue and resting bitch face for the sake of helping the victim’s families find closure. Because, despite how much she seethed in private about how Hotch, JJ and her own sister had conspired without her, she knew she could choke it down if it meant she could help someone, if it meant no one else had to grieve as deeply and gut wrenching as she had when Emily ‘died’.

“There’s no sign of robbery either, wallet is still intact except his ID,” Spencer added, standing back from the body while Bugsy handed the evidence off to CSI and the chief on the case headed their way.

“Is it even the same guy?” Agent Goslin asked, looking between Hotch and Emily for an explanation, Hotch shaking his head with a stoney look on his already tired face.

“The ritual’s too similar to discount,” He said, Bugsy frowning and tugging her lip between her teeth in thought.

“The change in MO makes sense if the UnSub is still refining his system, maybe killing the cashier at the gas station didn’t work so he’s back to the drawing board.” Emily speculated, her little sister nodding along with her in the first sign of agreement she’d seen all day.

“Two eights instead of one could also be significant; I know in China the number eight symbolises prosperity, the more eights the better. As a matter of fact, in Chengdu, a telephone number consisting of all eights recently sold for over a quarter of a million dollars,” Spencer said, and Bugsy flashed a look up at him, her eyes thoughtful.

“In ancient Egypt, the number seven represented completion in this life while the number eight represented success through ambition and determination in your reincarnated life,” She replied, peeling the gloves down her hands as they clung to her skin with tight clamminess, “And the eight pointed star is associated with the Babylonian goddess, Ishtar, or the light bringer,”

He nodded with her and he hated to admit that he loved that she managed to fill in the gaps in his own knowledge, like they were two puzzle pieces finding a way to fit together; like they were two halves cleaved from the same brain that hadn’t stopped growing in the entirety of her twenty seven years.

That, and he’d always found her brain one of the most attractive things about her. One of the long list he could think of.

“Why would he be doubling up on his luck out here, away from all the casinos?” Emily asked, because she was trying not to stand in awe of her sister’s fat brain that rivalled even their pretty boy.

“There’s been another killing,” Agent Goslin stated, hanging up the phone with a tense frown on her face, “A guest in his room at the Sapphire Lady,”

“Same ritual?” Hotch asked without a pause, because they were on body number five now and they were barely closer to understanding him than they were a few hours ago.

“No. His neck was broken. And he was robbed of $50,000.” Goslin replied, shaking her head, “Strange thing is? The killer left another $20,000 behind with the body,”

“Money isn’t his motive here,” Bugsy input, crossing her arms while Hotch got on the phone to Garcia, “Atleast, not that guy’s money,”

“Garcia, is there a casino in the neighbourhood of Penrose and Morningside Avenue?” He asked, clicking the perky woman onto speakerphone.

They heard a quick clatter of typing, “Uhhh, No casinos per se, but there’s a private gambling establishment right around the corner.” She replied helpfully, with another bout of her long, delicately painted nails against her keyboard.

“Is it legal?”

“Yeah, but it’s ultra exclusive. They have a monthly high-stakes poker tournament,” She paused for a second, “Today being the day for the month, coincidentally enough,”

“Or no coincidence at all,” Emily said, as they began putting together exactly where this chain of events had come from.

��What’s the buy in?” Bugsy asked, though she already guessed the answer.

“Yikies, $50,000,” And with that Bug and Reid exchanged a knowing look, her suspicion confirmed, “But, it’s a million dollar guarantee if you win,”

“What time does it start?” Hotch asked, Bugsy already rubbing the bridge of her nose with her fingertip, willing herself not to be right about what they were going to do.

“Later this evening,” Pen replied and Hotch thanked her, hanging up the phone. A second of silence spread around the crime scene.

“So, if anyone’s got fifty k lying around, now would be a great time to share with the group,” Busgy humoured herself with a straight face, realising the paperwork that would almost definitely be declined if Strauss had anything to say about it the would enable them to borrow fifty thousand from the government.

Because if they missed their chance tonight, she had no clue when they would get another.

–

“Any luck?” JJ asked, Emily sat to her right, Rossi across from her. Spencer and Bugsy sat on the end of the table, the girl breaking a KitKat in half to share with him, which he accepted happily.

“No, they don’t want to allocate emergency funds for the buy-in, I’m still working on it,” Hotch said shortly, his phone blowing up with messages, no doubt needing a lot more details if they were really going to get the money they needed.

“Well, I can’t imagine why not, we’re only asking for fifty thousand bucks of taxpayer money, so that FBI agents can play Texas Hold ‘em,” Rossi drawled, shaking his head with a cynical humour that was all they had to hold onto while they waited in limbo.

“Hey, what about you?” Emily asked, something mischievous in her eyes as she watched David freeze in his seat, so like the old Emily that Bugsy felt her stomach turn.

“What about me what?” David said with a frown, pausing in his writing for a moment.

“You could stake us the buy-in,” She suggested, and the other three members of the team turned their attention back to Rossi’s palling face.

“You’re a best selling author,” Spencer chimed in, devouring the last of the chocolatey biscuit snack as she pulled another out of her bag.

“No,” Rossi replied, slightly wide eyed at the suggestion of it, to which Emily jumped in.

“Why not?”

“One, it’s against regulations and I’d like to hold onto this job for a little while longer.” David said, his arms out in a defensive stance towards the four people who suddenly felt like his kids asking for the newest IPhone on the market for Christmas.

“It’s a minor administrative violation,” Bugsy pointed out between bites, offering the second half again to her best friend who took it without delay.

She could have given the whole thing to him to start with, and had the first one for herself, it would have ended the same, but she liked sharing with him. She liked being the one to split things with him when he cringed in horror at other people touching his food.

“And, two, I prefer to spend my money on actual things, like single malt scotch, a fine cigar, beautiful artwork,”

“Poker chips are things!” Emily tried to reason, but it only ended with David scoffing in her cheeky, hopeful face.

“Maybe just think of it as a new experience, I mean at your age how often does that happen?” Spencer said innocently, licking the chocolate from the tips of his fingers, noticing how Bugsy tensed up and Rossi slowly turned in his seat to face the BAU’s youngest members.

“At my what?” He asked in an aghast tone, Bug grabbing onto Spencer’s forearm with a gentle squeeze.

“Reel it in, reel it in,” She whispered, and he looked at her with a lost expression, willing her to explain to him where he had gone wrong, because he knew she would, “What he meant to say was this may be our only chance to get this guy,”

David chewed his words for a second, as if he was trying not to bite at the kids who looked between one another hopefully, and he wondered if this was what being a father felt like; handing his credit card over to two twenty something year olds and watching his bank deposit plummet in seconds.

“All right. Fine.” He sighed heavily like he’d seen the fifty thousand burned there and then, “I’m a decent poker player, but I can’t promise that I can stay in the game long enough to…”

“You know what? I bet you’re a great poker player,” Emily started kindly, her gaze drifting over to the hazel hues that watched between them curiously, “But what if we sent in Reid?”

“I am banned from casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin and Pahrump because of my card counting ability,” Spencer said, and Bugsy rolled her eyes.

“They can’t ban you for maths, that’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,” She said, nudging his side with her shoulder, “They hate to see an underdog win, it’s Rocky all over again,”

“Tell me about it,” He murmured back, even though he had never watched any of the Rocky movies, he just liked humouring her.

“Look I know I’m not a genius like the boy wonder here, but poker is not black jack. It’s about bluffing; reading human nature, head games.” Rossi pointed at Reid, who badgered over Bugsy’s shoulder for the cookies she had packed in her rucksack, “The kid does not have a poker face.”

“Which is why we’re going to send him with someone who does,” JJ chimed in, and it was then that the youngest members of the team looked up from where they had cracked open the packet of chocolate chip delights, near identical looks of innocence painted on their faces, like they really were kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

Bugsy looked between JJ and Rossi, who had equal parts hopeful and worried looks on their faces, before she glanced over to Spencer to see if he had any explanation. He looked as lost as she did.

“Huh?” She asked cluelessly, as Rossi buried his head in his hands.

At this rate was going to have to remortgage his house for wedding number four, he thought sourly.

–

“I swear to god if this dress rides up anymore, it will be me who’s charging fifty thousand per head,” Bugsy growled, her hands frantically tugging the dress down her legs more. She couldn’t deny it was a beautiful dress, bunched around certain areas that made the most of her body, but goodness was it shorter than she would have ever picked out for herself. She was the last person to be a prude when it came to showing off just how alluring she could look when she made an effort, but this was something else.

It was a striking red, meant to match the ruby of her lipstick and the vermillion of the diamonds and hearts on the cards spread around the tables in the room, flushed in between little plastic chips worth thousands of dollars, handfuls of dice being tossed over the green velvet surfaces, deciding whether the players lost their cars or paid off their kids college fund.

They queued up to be patted down, as if they were heading through airport security or into a packed nightclub. A handful of bouncers waved metal detectors over patron’s clothing, dipping hands into coat pockets, trousers, even some shoes were ordered off in the name of a fair game. She swore she had never seen so many sets of weighted dice confiscated off one man who swore blind as he was kicked out.

“Only fifty? You could rinse them for a hundred at least,” Spencer replied, his arm entwined behind her back, if not to hold her up in the clunky heels one of the women on Goslin’s task force had loaned her along with the dress. She smirked at him, pressing herself closer to him when they both saw a dozen eyes shoot towards her as they entered the building, and he tightened his grip just the slightest with a calculating coolness.

He wished his cheeks didn’t feel so hot feeling her body so close to his, wished she hadn’t made such an effort to look the part of the expensive call girl they knew the UnSub had a history with, not because he didn’t like it, but because she made everything a little more difficult when she looked like that.

He was having a hard time trying to calm the way his manhood brushed against his pants whenever she showed some of that saccharine affection, even though he knew it wasn’t real. Or atleast, was an extreme version of the love she usually showed him.

The bouncers called them up next, and he let her go first, because getting her through would be easy. He was the one with the panic alarm disguised as a shot of Halitosis in his pocket.

Spencer would never admit that his eyes fell straight down to the curves of her butt that seemed to be spotlighted by that damn dress.

Why did she have to look so irresistible? He supposed that was the point; he was the mysterious young gambler that was going to keep them in the game long enough to spot the UnSub, she was the attractive, woman of the night brought only to boost his ego and as his good luck charm. She certainly wasn’t the only one, she’d already seen a handful of other women, tall as models and so toned it looked as though they hit the gym every morning and didn’t leave until sundown, primped and primed for their player’s delight.

They were ten times better looking than she was, but to Spencer, she was the only woman in the room who he was envisioning ripping that dress right off.

She was making it very hard, no pun intended, for him to accept the idea of them as just friends.

The bouncer patted her down, Bugsy flashing him a cheeky smile just a little too forced for it to be one of her real ones, when the woman patted around her waist and hips for any hidden pockets or stashed bills.

“You wish this was you, huh, baby?” She teased him with a wicked look in her eyes, and he could only smirk back, hoping his blush didn’t give him away as quick as he reckoned it did.

He felt his knees weaken, worrying he might just fall to the ground there and then and be forced to crawl towards her if he had any hope of getting into the casino alive, but even that sent a new wave of lewd thoughts through his head, and he was grateful when the other bouncer called him forward to inspection.

The muscled guy waved a metal detector over his torso, moving down to his trouser legs where he wondered with cynical humour if the rod he now sported in his pants painfully would set off the alarm. It didn’t, and he begged his crotch to let up even the slightest if he had any hope of keeping his head on his shoulders during this game, but the detector sprung to life the minute it waved over the alarm in his pocket.

He produced the medical looking device, one they’d already planned and checked for faults, showing the fake prescription clearly to the guard, “Halitosis,”

The guy seemed to frown, took another look over the gangly guy who was with a woman way, way out of his league. A woman who waited for him after her own inspection, a very real diamond necklace that had been a sixteenth birthday present from Steph around her neck, courtesy of her dad’s bank account and ten years worth of emotional distance. Whether he took pity on Spencer because Bugsy looked like the kind of girl who could chew up a guy like him and spit him right back out, or he really didn’t care about his medical condition, he didn’t know, but he waved him through without another thought, and they both took a sigh of relief.

“You want a drink?” He asked nonchalantly as possible, wrapping his arm around her waist again, and he tried to not let his flustered demeanour show when he found slits cut into the side of the fabric, and he felt the softness of her hips under his fingertips.

“My treat, to get you started,” Bugsy replied, something unreadable in the teasing of her eyes, and she leaned up to his jaw to steal a quick kiss there like any other girl wanting to be paid the full sum of her night would have done.

At least that’s what she told herself, pretending as if her brazen action hadn’t caused her heart rate to spike.

She got him an iced tea, because she knew he wouldn’t want alcohol, and got herself a half shot Moscow Mule, sipping the lime rim appreciatively.

“See anything yet?” She asked under her breath, one hand trailing over the back of his neck, playing with the curls that sat there with vixen sly eyes that scanned the room.

He forced himself not to moan at the sensation, and he worried it was too obvious to the other patrons in the gambling room just how easily he melted beneath her fingertips. He felt like a dog drooling after a bone, like she was shaking a lead in his face and asking for walkies, and he was panting beneath her, tail wagging and dopey eyed.

Not the look of suave, mysterious stranger they were initially going for when they were coming up with identities for their covers. But at least it sold the part of a man desperate to win the jackpot if it meant he could spend the night with the siren woman that clung to him with a giggly sip of her pink straw.

“No one looking particularly suspicious,” He noted; everyone was almost too good at a poker face, though he supposed that it made sense seeing the value of the prize pool, “You are getting a lot of attention however,”

And she was. In fact, he was quick to take her hand in his own free one when he saw a group of men dressed to the nines, solid gold rings along their knuckles, diamond encrusted Rolexs staring back at him from their wrists, their faces dead yet starved when they drank in every inch of her skin, their eyes falling to where her dress rode up high, as she had whined about the entire way there.

She chuckled, and something about it sounded like her own, not the woman she’d had to become for the evening, and she kissed where his jaw clenched in annoyance, “Not from anyone that matters, boy wonder,”

And he felt his heart rest for a moment, because as long as she was with him he knew he could shift that big brain of his into gear. He loved nothing more than the click he felt when he was with her, like their brains and bodies just seemed to bluetooth to one another and they weren’t Spencer and Bugsy they were just them. A since cell amoeba.

He smiled at her, and she preened under his attention, so genuinely her that he felt the vignette that had clouded his vision shift into focus, and he knew he could find their UnSub if she was there with him.

He sat at the nearest table to them that was about to deal in, and within twenty minutes he was racking up a nice, fat pile of poker chips next to his iced tea.

Bugsy knew he was a smart man, knew he was good at magic tricks, but if he had turned to her then and there and pulled a rabbit out her ear hole she wouldn’t have questioned him otherwise. Watching him play was something else.

It was entirely sordid, the whole hour of his first game was spent trying to keep her focus on any patrons sat at their table and the rest that seemed to be twitching, whilst also trying not to look awed at just how amazing his brain was when he won damn near every time.

But she did manage to rip her eyes off him when she could, not enough to seem suspicious, just enough to scan the area for someone who could be their UnSub, her eyes quickly jumping to the guy on the table across from them with a large magic 8-ball tattoo across his bicep, unsurprisingly already looking her head to toe as he waited for his hand to be dealt out. He winked at her, a smarmy, cocky grin on his face, almost too confident in his ability to be someone to turn to suspicions and rituals in order to win.

A serious contender, but nothing that screamed their UnSub.

She looked around a little more, ignoring the handful of men who tried to grab her attention, who thought they were somewhat validated or interesting for having her look at them for a split second. They were just part of the wallpaper compared to Spencer anyway.

It wasn’t until she spotted a guy in a baseball cap a few paces away from them fiddling with yet another magic 8-ball, though this time a key chain, giving it a gentle touch every time he picked up his hand as if it really had the power to change the values once they’d been dealt.

From the quick glance she got of his face, he seemed to be running on an hour’s sleep tops. His eyes were rimmed redder than her lipstick, and his hair was damp with sweat and grease against his temple.

Unstable if there ever was a man for the word.

She quickly looked back to Spencer’s cards, her hands weaving over his shoulders to rub his muscles gently, the signal that she’d seen something important masked as an affectionate gesture.

The House called the end of the round, Spencer being awarded a heaped pile of tens, hundreds even a small few thousands thrown in there, to which he collected onto his tray they had handed him at the door.

Bugsy leaned down with a girlish squeal, giving him another big, cherry lipped kiss to his cheek, to which he felt himself blush under immediately. Quickly dodging to whisper into his ear, it looked to the other patrons as if she was simply promising him an even bigger reward later for his winnings in exchange, “Nine O’Clock at table two, guy in the green jacket has an eight ball keyring he ritually plays with before drawing,”

Spencer nodded, standing from the table with his winnings, using Bugsy’s as an excuse to angle himself to where she was talking about. He pulled her to him effortlessly, his long arms wrapping over her bare back, his neck craning over her shoulder to serveill the table she had indicated, and she quickly hugged him back with that fake giggle of hers, her body pressing to his desperately like the other ladies of the night he had seen with men three times their age.

He clocked who she was talking about almost immediately, running a hand down her spine and squeezing her waist gently to let her know he’d seen him.

They moved in tandem, just like they always had.

A hostess came over to them, all big smiles and a tight fitted black dress, a log book in her arms of where everyone was sitting in the next round to keep a fair game. Bugsy took a look at him, wiping away the smudged lipstick on his cheek with a loving swipe of her thumb, nodding at him for a small bout of reassurance.

“I’m going to go get another drink, honey,” She said loud enough for the hostess to hear, as she flashed him a flirty smile, “Don’t forget to wait for your lucky charm,”

He bristled, a smile twitching at his lips at that, “I wouldn’t dare,”

Because her message was clear. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m updating the team.

She swanned through the crowd as if she owned the place, but then again a packed scene had never been an issue for her. She felt through her concealed inseam of the tiny cardigan she draped over her shoulders, until she felt the long bullet shaped object stuffed into a tampon wrapper that Penelope had geniously planted there to look like a feminine product.

Her own alarm, the one meant to let the team know they had sights on the guy and to be ready. It was Spencer’s that would give them the signal to enter.

She was fiddling with the damn thing when she felt it, a sharp crack across her ass as she was walking towards the bar, heard the laughter in the second she froze up.

Turning on her heel with a tight expression, the anger burnt hot in her eyes when she saw the guy with the tattoo who had been trying to get her attention not even a half hour ago, watched him sidling up to her with a conceited smile.

“So, has that twiglet over there paid for you in advance or are you going home with the highest bidder?” He said, his head flicking to Spencer who now sat at table two, counting his chips out onto the table and paying himself in.

She smiled at the assailant widely, and it would have been pretty had it not been for the crazy look in her eye that twitched when he made a move to step towards her more.

“I’m spoken for in advance,” She said lightly, eyes trailing down his outfit like she was trying to commit it to memory, over his defining markers like the slit in his brow and his tattoos that looped over his hands, “But I’m sure I’ll be seeing you real soon, sweetheart,”

And she flashed him a toothy smile again, yet something was wolfish about it this time, like she was ready to lunge for him there and then.

The guy wasn’t their UnSub but he had made it to the very top of her hit list in a split second decision.

She waltzed away, securing herself another Moscow Mule she had no intention of drinking, and headed back to where Spencer was being allotted his hand of cards. Their round started, Bugsy keeping a close eye on the UnSub who sat directly to Spencer’s right, and she found a little solace in the fact he couldn't have brought in any weapons since they had all been patted down at the door.

It didn’t shake the feeling of edge the guy with the tattoo had put her into when she watched their guy flick a look over Spencer’s shoulder to look her head to toe, glancing back at Spence who was already glaring at him.

“Is she part of the winnings?” The other guy to his right chimed in, sliding a stack of hundred dollar chips into the centre, two of the players already bust as they watched the others play on for the house.

She saw her partner tense in his spine when he heard the man’s drawling voice, and she knew he was struggling to keep a lid on the facade they were putting on for the evening.

Snickering, she ran a gentle hand through his hair, down the nape of his neck with a sickeningly sweet simper, “Sorry, boys. Only person who’s taking me home tonight is the pretty boy,”

One of the guys who had already busted out scoffed, grumbling under his breath, “Lucky fucker,”

And Spencer knew it too. He felt almost rejuvenated just feeling her near, a damn near cocky smile on his face when he pushed his chips into the centre of the table, barely flicking a glance at his hand when he realised he had almost certainly secured a winning run.

Maybe she was his lucky charm, he thought cynically. Maybe he couldn’t blame the guy to his right for carrying a silly little trinket around with him in the name of luck if he was no better.

“I’m calling,” The guy on the far right declared, shuffling two piles of his chips into the middle with the total pooling.

“I’ll raise,” The UnSub cut in, grabbing some of his black thousand dollar tokens and clinking them one by one next to his opponents, “Eight thousand,”

What a surprise, eight thousand, Bug mused, squeezing onto Spencer’s shoulder again as he was quick to match the bidding and then some with his own checks.

“$8,000, that’s fifty six months’ wage for the average person in Bangladesh,” Spencer said, doubling the bet with a flick of those long fingers of his. It was heinous how much his brain managed to warm her insides, Bugsy thought, hoping she kept her poker face intact, “Kind of makes you think, doesn’t it?”

The two remaining players, UnSub included, looked at him like he’d grown a second head, and Bugsy fought off the urge to laugh in their face, because for a minute he was so Spencer like all she wanted to do was quip something back equally as smart.

“Look, it’s eight thou’ to you, are you in or are you out?” The first man snapped, perhaps seethin with jealousy that the pretty woman wanted nothing to do with him or perhaps just pissed that the fresh faced teenager of a man was serving their asses up cold.

“I am in,” He moved some more chips towards them, his eyes falling back to the guy they suspected was their UnSub with a challenge in his eyes, “And I raise,”

“Three raise,” The dealer declared, and the first guy huffed in defeat.

“That’s too rich for my blood,” He growled, crossing his arms and flipping his dead cards over.

“Sir, are you in?” The dealer asked the UnSub, and for a minute his eyes snapped to Bugsy’s where she was keeping a calm look on her face despite the fact her insides were stumbling with nerves. But she never doubted Spencer’s maths, she would stake her life on it in fact.

“I’ll call,” The UnSub replied, flicking his cards over with another small token of a hundred, an okay run of cards but not an entire failure.

Spencer met it with a couple hundreds of his own, revealing his four and his eight that met the five, six, and seven he already put down. A winning flush. “Straight.”

Her smile was genuine, dazzling, when the pile of chips were pushed over to him, and she would have laughed with glee had the UnSub’s face not dropped into something devastated, borderline demented, when he saw his ritual had meant nothing. That he had lost despite killing his own friend and four more people as a sacrifice.

He was unravelling fast, and it was then Bugsy knew they had only moments to confirm he was their guy obsessed with his suspicions and that damn lucky number eight.

“I guess you won’t be needing this anymore, will you honey?” Bugsy reached over for the charm with a cheeky grin as the other patrons grumbled at their losses, only for the guy’s hand to come slamming down on top of hers with a brutal grip, hard enough she knew it was going to bruise by morning.

“Don’t,” He hissed at her, and it seemed to click with confirmation in Spencer and Bugsy’s mind there was no doubt this was their guy.

Spencer stood up to defend the woman, only for both of them to be grabbed by security second’s later.

“You’re going to let a man put his hands on a woman like that- would you relax I can walk,” Spencer snapped, watching the other security guard manhandle Bugsy just as roughly, pinning her arms behind her back, though she complied with a victorious grin, “Real tough there pal, grabbing on a woman half your size,”

“Relax honey, I got a taser in my pocket if they really want to behave like bad boys,” The bouncers looked at her in alarm, and it was the distraction Spencer needed to reach into his jacket and trigger the signal. She gave the three of them a shit eating grin, and Spencer thought he might just love her even more, “Don’t shit your pants, I’m kidding. I charge extra for the rough stuff,”

Spencer was still laughing when Hotch and Emily barged past them after the UnSub, who was by now leaving out the back door.

–

“Spencer, really, we can go back to the hotel and forget about it,” After revealing their cover with the bouncers, courtesy of one David Rossi and his famous face clearing their names, and the UnSub caught and well on the way to the nearest jail cell for questioning, Bugsy was more than tired and ready to strip out of the impossibly tight dress.

“I want to see this guy brought to justice, think of him as another UnSub,” Spencer said, his arms crossed over his chest as they sat on the bonnet of a squad car out the front of the building, the tournament slowly trickling to an end with its patrons leaving for the night.

She rolled her eyes, his jacket over her arms the only thing keeping her warm against the evening air. It would have been so much easier if they had been allowed back in, but FBI agents or not, the guards had clear rules against breaching the peace in such a high stakes game. A bad rep for having the feds show up on their busiest day of the year was not welcomed, just as much as they weren’t.

“Except he’s not murdered anyone,” She replied, eyes darting between the guests leaving with their earnings spilling out of their pockets, “He’s just some dumb asshole who can’t keep his hands to himself and- it’s him,”

The guy with the tattoos, Mike Folio as would later be printed on the police report, had barely a second to grieve his losses of the night before Spencer had him cuffed against the squad car, yelling and spitting about his rights as an American citizen.

It wasn’t until he saw the gorgeous woman donned in the candy red dress looking down at him with amusement that he felt the colour drain from his face.

“Hi sweetheart,” She smiled viciously, “I told you I’d see you again. Spence, read him the Mirandas,”

3. The one with the bank explosion

The tweed trousers irritated her thighs, the head band fluffed her hair away from her face in a way she kept trying to fix, and the brown pumps squeaked every time she walked, but her smile was dazzling nevertheless.

“Okay, the TV movie is at Hall H at nine, can we go to that?” Penelope asked, reading from the pamphlet as Bugsy and Spencer all but ran to keep up with her.

“Absolutely!” Spencer chimed in, “Do you think we can make it to the Captains of Enterprise at eleven?”

“Obvs,” Penny replied, fixing the bow tie necklace her and Bugsy had made not even the week before. She looked over at the younger woman, who had a matching K-9 pendant, because apparently FBI salaries did not take into account life sized robot dogs, “Thanks for coming with me,”

“Ofcourse, I’ve been knitting this scarf for weeks,” Spencer replied, his eyes falling down to where Bugsy donned a Sarah Jane Smith cosplay.

“Who are you going as?” She’d asked, the minute he’d asked her to go, because there were few things he did these days without her.

“The Fourth Doctor,” Spencer replied, because he had explained in length to her about the concept of regenerating and had even flicked on some of the newer series for her to watch with him, “Tom Baker’s Doctor, he’s a fan favourite,”

He showed her a picture of the time lord stood outside the TARDIS, a younger girl stood opposite him in a pink suit, large white peter pan collar hanging wide over her chest.

“Who’s that?” She asked, pointing the girl with the cute bangs and pleated skirts.

“That’s Sarah-Jane, or Sarah-Jane Smith. She’s one of the longest starring companions since she was the Third Doctor’s companion first and also was in the spin off show for her dog, K-9,” He explained, warming inside when Bugsy listened with raptured interest.

“So like, is she his girlfriend or-”

“No, no! The Doctor is often speculated to be asexual when it comes to relations with humans. Sarah Jane was one of his closest friends however, and in the Tenth Doctor’s third season he even comes back to rescue her from a wedding set up by one of his enemies,” He said, and her smile pulled out widely when an idea popped into her head.

“Well, can I be her? For your convention?” She asked, somewhat shyly, still a little unsure how the show worked in the fine details, “You know, since you saved me from my wedding?”

He paused, because she’d never really spoken about that day she’d jumped into his arms in the elevator, holding him to her like he was the only thing that made sense. Bugsy was like that alot; giving him everything he ever dreamed in the moment and then acting like it was never a big deal the next.

“S-sure! Yeah, that would be really nice.” He said, and she immediately started searching up what she should wear for it, “I didn’t really save you though, you know, you saved yourself,”

She snickered, nudging him with her shoulder, “You all saved me, I don’t know what I would have done if Em-” She stopped herself, swallowing thickly, and he saw the glow leave her eyes.

If Emily hadn’t been there.

Things were still awkward between them. There were no more catfights, thank goodness, though there also wasn’t any doting between the sisters anymore. It was like a clean break had slit between them. Emily had given up trying to warm to her, given up trying to get her to come around, and had instead taken the high road of waiting for Bugsy to make the first move.

But Bugsy was nothing if not stubborn. So Emily would be waiting a while longer.

“Hey, listen, next time I promise I’ll be the first one to object and then you can say I saved you,” Spencer joked, because he knew the subject of Emily stung her, because he knew she needed to stop thinking about it or she’d unravel into self hatred.

She chuckled aghast, “Next time? I was kind of hoping to keep the next one, Spence, whoever the unlucky guy is,”

He shook his head, a fake look of disapprovement, “Sorry, rules are rules. You wanted to be Sarah-Jane, I have to crash your wedding with the TARDIS I’m afraid,”

She laughed, resting her head on his shoulder as they flicked through the TV some more together.

“Well, I mean if those are the rules,” She simpered, snuggling under his chin, “Does this mean I get a sick robo-dog too?”

She looked every bit the part he would have ever expected her to look. Down to the maroon tie, and the white dress shirt, and the matching tweed blazer and pants that made her look embarrassingly hot.

He was about to tell her just how great she looked because she still seemed unsure, being a casual fan of the show not nearly as religious as some of the surrounding guests were, when Penelope cut them off in a near gutted voice.

“Oh my god,”

“Penelope?”

Bugsy and Spencer looked up to see Penelope’s ex beau, Kevin, dressed in a nearly identical outfit to her (though in Bug’s opinion he didn’t have the same pzazz as she did with the glitter and the sparkliness,) a red headed woman beside him donned in a police woman uniform.

“Kevin, hi, you came,” The blonde woman replied, her face mortified as she took in just how pretty the other woman was, “And you brought a friend, CSU technician Sharp, how are you?”

Hannah Sharp, from two floors below them in the BAU, grinned tightly, as if she could sense just how disastrous the situation had suddenly become, “I’m fine, uh, you?”

Bugsy gripped onto Spence’s arm tightly, hating the turn this was taking, every second of it.

“I am also fine,” Pen replied, though she looked as though she was ready to float outside of her body any minute now. “Okay, well, see ya,”

“You’re not gonna go in?” Kevin asked, his eyes crestfallen when he saw Penelope also grab onto the boy genius’ arm, and he cursed Spencer Reid for getting so many attractive women.

“Actually, we just went in and it’s super lame,” Bugsy interrupted, flashing a disjointed smile at the two of them, turning to usher her best friend away before he could call her out in her lie. “So we’re leaving,”

“Oh, okay,” Kevin replied, his date all but forgotten as the three of them made a sharp exit, a wince on the youngest Prentiss’ face when they got far enough that the girl could cringe in peace, “Well, great costumes,”

“Yeah, you too,” Penelope called back, her heels practically leaving tire marks with how fast she had sped away from her ex that was opening fresh wounds as they spoke. At work they were separated by a whole floor, so it wasn’t quite so scathing to see each other around or even hear of one another, but to be brought out in front of what she could only assume was his new woman was horrifying.

Bugsy was at her side immediately, grabbing onto her hand with a squeezing grip.

“Well, that was awkward,” Spencer noted aloud, and Bugsy lightly slapped his arm for him to shut up, her eyes wide with worry.

He looked at her in alarm, but her face told him everything he needed to know. Girl rules.

He hated girl rules. He never understood them.

“Oh my god, we used to come every year, I can’t believe he brought someone else,” Penelope sighed to the younger girl, who watched her with furrowed brows.

“Well you brought someone else,” Spencer pointed out, only to have his arm whipped at again in a chiding motion, and he watched Bugsy stroke Pen’s back with a bite in her tone.

“Girl rules, Spencer, girl rules,” He tutted at her, rolling her eyes as if they were a married couple and she was nagging him to wash the dishes.

Sometimes it felt easy like that with them. Like she really was just his best friend and not the only girl who held any sort of romantic connection to his heart.

“Yeah, someone I couldn’t possibly be attracted to,” Penelope stated, “Besides, he always thought the two of you were a thing anyway, oh god what if he thinks I’m your guys third-”

“Woah, woah, what?” Bugsy asked with wide eyes, “He thought me and Spencer were, like, dating?”

Penelope nodded, and Bugsy couldn’t even look at him without stumbling over her words.

“Well he knows we’re- like I mean we’re not even each other’s seconds so how could you be our third you know?” She said with a forced laugh, because she could feel her face going hot.

Spencer watched her tongue tie herself into oblivion, thinking of any and every excuse as to why she didn’t want dating associated to the two of them. Because how could she ever feel the same way? He was just him and she was, well, her. So incredibly, beautifully her.

It wasn’t until she bumped into an older gentleman waiting for his valet she even shut herself up.

“And I mean Kevin shouldn’t have just assumed- oh sorry,” She whirled around to apologise the man she presumed was a fan of the early seasons of the show, perhaps even around when they first aired, though the thought died in her throat when he turned around, “Oh, Rossi?”

David Rossi looked suave as ever in his age, a blazer thrown casually over his shoulder, a neat shirt and dress pants ensemble at his hips as he looked between the three of them, their costumes staring back at him entirely too colourful for a Saturday morning.

He sighed, hard.

“Why doesn’t this surprise me?” He asked with a tired voice, as Bugsy bounced back over to Spencer’s side with an incredulous look on her face.

“Are you here for the convention?” Spencer asked, excitement bubbling in his tone as Bug grabbed his forearm gently, already sensing Rossi hadn’t had nearly enough coffee to put up with them today.

“Who schedules a cigar aficionado event back to back with this?” Rossi asked, his eyes clamping on the pendant around her neck, “What is that, a robot dog?”

“K-9,” The three of them replied, and it was as if it tipped him over the edge, his hair growing whiter by the second.

“Kevin brought another woman, I’m plotting revenge. Do you want to help?” Penelope asked, her face still warm from running into the guy who was almost her fiance.

“Know where we can get any horse heads?” Bugsy asked, her expression lost in though as Penelope gasped, “What? I’m thinking go big or go home. Also, horse head in the bed means they can't have sex-”

“I’m taking that as my cue to leave,” Rossi cut in, just as his valet arrived, “Now you know I love all three of you, but this is Saturday, and it is my day off, so I’m going to love you from afar,”

He ruffled Bugsy’s hair fondly as he took his leave, throwing his blazer over the passenger seat and bidding them a wave goodbye.

They watched him go, wondering where it left them for a moment before Bugsy spoke up again, “So are we saying a definitive no to the horse head idea, because I’m sure I know a guy in college-”

“No, Bugsy,” Penelope hissed, her face scrunched in disgust, and Spencer swore she turned green, “Definitive no,”

–

They had been half way through breakfast when Spencer got an emergency call from Hotch for a team of serial killers robbing a bank downtown, hostages and guns on scene.

She had barely had time to whip the tweed blazer off her shoulders, keeping the shirt and pants on as Derek threw her a kevlar vest.

“It’s definitely them,” Will said in his soft Southern drawl, JJ embracing him tightly to her with a worried expression. It had been him and his partner first on the scene, though unfortunately things had not ended well for her when they had ran into the three UnSubs slipping out the back of the bank and had engaged in a shoot out; Will’s partner getting a bullet to the head almost immediately, and Will narrowly escaping unscathed, but not before he managed to gun down one of the UnSubs in the stomach.

So there they were, the UnSubs back inside the bank for safety since they were now surrounded by the city police, the FBI, the SWAT team and a handful of ambulances and medics on standby.

“I only saw the King and the Jack but I figured the Queen’s inside too,” He added, JJ peeling herself from his side as they headed towards the building.

“The media's calling them the face cards,” Hotch informed his team, all eight of them decked in their thickest vests and weapons loaded in full, “Seven bank robberies in seven months. They’ve killed one person at each robbery,”

“MO?” Rossi asked, now dressed out of his smart, Saturday wear and something more akin to his usual business attire.

“Single gun shot wound, each of the victims has bled out,” Hotch replied, and it wasn’t until they turned the corner towards the bank did Bugsy realise just how packed the street was with law enforcement.

Three or four choppers circled overhead with snipers and back up SWAT teams at the ready.

“Serial killers with a thirty day cooling off period, and we’re only just hearing about this now?” Emily asked in an incredulous tone, her voice raised to accommodate the shouting between other chiefs and their units.

“Headquarters characterised them as robbers first, killers second,” Hotch said, his hands on his hips as they all assessed the situation from afar. Naturally a few new anchors had pulled up to the scene as well and were setting up their equipment despite the officers trying to corral them away.

“Oh yeah? How did that turn out for them?” Bugsy grumbled behind her thick, dark sunglasses, biting her lip from saying worse.

“I disagreed with the original assessment, I was overruled,” Her chief shot back, because things had been just as cold between them since that day as they had with Emily.

JJ was slowly reaching out the olive branch in her direction, and if it wasn’t for Henry being so darn cute every time he begged ‘Buggy’ to come play with him, she reckoned JJ would have taken even longer to forgive as well.

“Why are we here now?” Rossi chimed in, eyes locked on Aaron’s frown, that seemed to harden every step they took closer to the bank.

“Because crisis negotiation is overseas.”

“What do we know about them?” JJ jumped in straight away with the problem solving, because even if they were out in the field and not in their pretty little round table room anymore, the UnSubs were still just pictures on a white board needing that red string to connect them all together.

“They’re organised, they're efficient,” Hotch fired off, mentally running through whether he had loaded the pistol he kept around his calf for emergencies, “Each strike lasts about two minutes,”

Derek’s face scrunched in confusion, “They gotta be scouting out the banks in advance, why haven’t we been able to ID them off of surveillance footage?”

“They hacked the security feed and turn off the cameras both during the initial canvas and during the robbery, until the masks come back on and then were allowed to watch” Hotch replied, and the eight of them slipped into the base of operation for the day; a wide trailer converted to house the high tech computers Penelope needed to keep an eye on the cameras with those magic skills of hers.

Bugsy’s eyes landed on the black and white feed of inside the bank, her heart lurching in her throat when she saw well over forty men, women and children lined on their knees execution style, facing the doors to the bank to act as a shield if the snipers did happen to get a shot through the windows.

The woman took the lead, a mask over her face with a doll-like expression on it, the other men soaked in blood as one fought to hold the injured one up for dear life.

“Why haven’t they cut the feed now that they’ve been cornered,” Derek said with a shake of his head, his lips pulled into a grimace, “Letting us see inside gives us a tactical advantage, they have to know that,”

“Unless they want the audience,” Bugsy suggested, watching the jack slowly growing weaker and weaker as they discussed tactics, “Although the only one who really strikes me as the attention seeker is her, he seems more prioritised with the other male,”

“The masks add to their narcissism,” Spencer input with a nod, “Their personas are the royalty of poker,”

“JJ, you, Bugsy, Reid and Prentiss, look at past robberies, that’s going to be our victimology,” Hotch ordered, and they did as ordered with little delay, heading to the office they had set up in the opposite trailer.

This was going to be a long day.

–

“I can help,” Bugsy offered herself before the team even had a chance to protest.

It hadn’t even been an hour into them pulling research from InterPol as to who their UnSubs were before they had made their next dramatic move; they had shot a hostage.

Which meant they needed medics in there fast, fast enough to save the hostage and the jack if it kept the king from unravelling into a massacre.

“What do you mean you can help?” Emily said with a scathing tone, “Bug, you can’t just throw yourself in harm’s way if you have no clue what you’re-”

“I did three years of a medicine degree alongside my biochemistry before I got bored of doing both and gave up on it,” Bugsy snapped at her sister, brows contorting into a harsher frown than she’d had in months. She preferred it when they weren’t speaking at all.

“Because you were bored?” Derek asked, his face incredulous at the gall of the twenty year old they’d plucked from college and sent into the midst of the Russian Mob five years ago, “Did you not have anything better to do like partying or making out with guys- a whole medical degree on the side is your idea of downtime?”

She shrugged, looking back at Emily with a glare who seemed to bristle at the information.

“Can I speak to you outside please?” Emily said in the coolest tone she could muster, though even that sounded like a bite.

Something shifted in the air of the tiny, makeshift office and the other inhabitants tensed up at the sight of the Prentiss women gritting their teeth almost identically, staring daggers at one another for a moment before they stood from their seats and waltzed out of the side of the trailer to where there wasn’t the bustle of squad cars or media to be seen.

JJ looked to Morgan, who looked to Spencer, who seemed to have paled for a moment, and the three of them were out of their own seats to linger at the doorway in case things really did get ugly between the sisters.

“Do you honestly think that throwing yourself into the line of danger today is a good idea or are you trying to hurt me to get back at me?” Emily seethed the minute they had stepped foot on the ground, and the scoff that left her little sister’s throat was something nasty.

“Oh, please, don’t make yourself sound so important.” Bugsy snapped, whirling around on her heel to glare at her sister, “I’m not doing any of this to get back at you, I’m trying to save those hostages in there-”

“So I just happened to have never heard about this medical side quest you set yourself on until now because, what, it just never came up?” Emily laughed, laughed, in her sister’s face, and Bugsy saw red even more, “I thought you were a better liar than that,”

“Maybe if you’d bothered to even speak to me before you needed something from me that day with the Russians then you would have known anything about me that wasn’t being your dumb little sister you can just walk all over like you’re my mom or something,” Bugsy’s voice was getting louder, and Emily’s smirk wiped right off at the sound of that, because she knew she could have been ten times a better sister had she not wanted to get as far away from her mother as fast as possible. “Same with Hotch, he never wanted much to do with me until his wife died and then who did he come to needing help grieving, none a single one of you, and who gets bitten in the ass and punished when I find out I spent seven months grieving like some idiot to that uptight prick who lied to me-”

“Do not speak about him like that,” Emily was shouting now too because Bugsy was truly holding nothing back on her.

“Why? Are you going to pick him over me, Em?” The younger woman snarked, her eyes hateful and narrowed, “Wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest given your track record-”

Emily shoved her, like, truly shoved her back and it robbed the words out of the girl’s throat. Yet it made JJ gasp where they were watching from the crack in the doorway, wanting to break them apart but knowing they needed to fix it for themselves.

The three of them hissed when Bugsy’s hand swiped against Emily’s cheek in a territory neither of them had ever wandered into. Emily was always too old to argue with her sister, too big to fight the way most siblings did with slaps and hair pulls and scratches, but Bugsy was a grown woman now; they both were.

Emily swatted the same back to her own cheekbone, after a second of shock washing over her face, and it was like they were two cats fighting in a back alleyway over a scrap of chicken.

Bugsy shoved at her around the tits, because she knew it would ache, Emily pulled at her braid with a yank that made Bugsy’s eyes water, the two of them banging against the wall of the trailer, their heads clunking together.

“Fucking punishing me after months like some insolent child-”

“I would never have left you thinking you were to blame for my death- I would never fucking do this to you-”

This was childish, entirely childish, playground offences and girlish curses in between. The worst part was they knew they could do much worse, they knew they could truly hurt one another if they wanted to. They were both trained to kill, and yet Emily had Bugsy grabbed in a headlock like they were two infants fighting over a sandpit.

Because they didn’t want to properly hurt one another in any way that would last. Never.

“Get the fuck off me or I’m punching you in the crotch,” Bugsy barked, trying to wriggle her way out of her sister’s freakishly strong arms with a frown, “EMILY- I SAID-”

“I was trying to protect you- just get your head out of your ass for two seconds and listen to me- I was trying to protect all of you-” But by the time Emily had somewhat gotten her to stop squirming, the girl had grabbed her by the calf where she had been forced to bend at a forty five degree angle, holding her one leg up off the floor while she sweeped at the second one to knock her off balance.

She had been known to shoot an assailant in the foot from twenty feet away to stop them from getting away, and yet she was resorting to simply pushing her sister over as a way to get one up on her.

She felt like she was ready to finger paint and take a nap time next; like they were about to be sat in the headmaster’s office and have their wrists slapped with a ruler for not keeping their hands to themselves.

But it worked, and in seconds the Prentiss girls were on the floor, puffing out of breath, Bugsy’s lip bleeding where Emily’s ring had caught it on the corner, Emily’s cheek red and raised from where her sister had a surprisingly strong right hook. They took a minute to breath, Bugsy glaring at the awfully clear blue sky, much too happy and cheery for the travesty that had been her entire day. And it was only then did she hear the other three members of their team exit the trailer, JJ going to help Emily up while Morgan's face appeared in the middle of the powdered clouds, something sad and sympathetic in his eyes and it was then that he held out his hand to get her up.

She didn’t want to, had every intention of laying there and staring at the broad daylight until she managed to float far away from there and from where her chest hurt with betrayal and her lip bled with lies.

He yanked her off the floor, offered her a cold can of coke for where she felt her lip swelling already, and she resigned to sit on the stairs to the trailer with her head in her hands until her temple stopped pounding or at least until she felt herself calm down in the slightest.

Emily shuffled to sit down next to her, her breathing still uneven but she could tell because she felt a tentative hand on her thigh rubbing gently, in the motherly way Emily had always watched her.

Because Bugsy had always been her baby, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

“Bugsy?” The younger woman huffed in indignance, pouting as she stared at her lap, because she felt the tears welling up already, “I’m so sorry I left you, you know I never, ever wanted to, you know that right?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice cracked as she finally looked over at her sister’s solemn face, “You told JJ and Hotch but you couldn’t even tell me? Did you just not want to come back for me?”

Emily’s brows pulled up into a sorrowful frown, and she felt her eyes start to burn too.

“No, that was never a part of it, I swear, there wasn’t a day when I didn’t want to come home to you,” She replied, taking a deep breath in through her nose as not to start bawling her eyes out there and then, “I had to tell Hotch and JJ as a matter of precaution, not because I wanted to tell them and not you. Bug, I missed you every day, I missed Niko and Sergio and those dumb documentaries you made us watch,”

Bugsy smiled despite herself, wiping a finger under her nose to stop the tears that had already started rolling there, “Well, I don’t know about Niko but Sergio missed you a whole lot,” She sniffled, rolling the Coke over to a cooler side to sooth her lip some more, “But I think he feels like you kind of abandoned him, and like you maybe don’t love him as much because he can be kind of annoying and, like, he’s real torn up about me telling him you died only to find your you’re not, like you can’t just do that to Sergio, Em, he doesn’t deserve that,”

Bugsy’s lip was quivering by the time she’d finished, but Emily chuckled wetly, wrapping an arm over her shoulder and pressing their pounding heads together.

“Are we maybe not talking about Sergio anymore, Bug? Are we talking about you-”

“No, we’re definitely talking about Sergio,” She cut in, wiping under her eyes with her sleeve, looking back up where Emily’s face was glistening with tears though it seemed like she had somewhat calmed under her sister’s gaze that wasn’t so full of vitriol hatred anymore.

Emily nodded, a humoured smile on her lips, “Right, okay, my bad. Definitely Sergio,” She held up her hand, stroking down Bug’s cheek for her where her tears had started pooling, “Well, I want Sergio to know that even if he is annoying sometimes, that there’s nothing that could ever take me away from him again, cause even though I’m not his mom, he’s still always going to be my kid, you know?”

Bugsy’s face crumpled in pain for a minute, sniffling and meeting Emily’s eyes, dark brown hues watching her sadly, imploring her to know how much her heart called out for her.

“Really? You promise?” Bugsy whined, and Emily nodded with a sad smile, stroking the back of her braid that looked a little ratted and wispy from where it had been yanked at. She took a shaky breath, looking down to her shoes where they scraped against the steps, “Well, I’m sure he’ll love to hear that, I’ll tell him when we’re home-”

Emily laughed, kissing her sister’s forehead, and pulling her into a side hug.

“Alright, tough guys. Let’s get back to working on the profile, Sergio can wait for a minute,” Morgan said, though his face fought off the smile that crept on his lips seeing two of his favourite girls finally at peace with one another.

Bugsy looked five years younger within seconds, and they clicked back into place, hopping up off the steps to get right to work, cursing herself for wasting so much time on silly things like hating her sister, because forgiving her felt cathartic in a way she didn’t understand she needed.

Maybe they had a chance after all.

–

Bugsy swore she would never have an optimistic thought a day in her life again.

Because just as they had thought perhaps things could look up; just as they had sent in a different agent medically trained enough to save the jack, their UnSub, that they’d identified as Oliver, had bled out before he could have done anything to save him. Without a second thought, the king, Chris, had shot the agent, and demanded he wanted Will next as retribution for his brother’s death.

They had of course turned down the offer in a heartbeat but the moment everyone turned their backs, Will, ten times the cop Bugsy could ever hope to be, had walked into the bank with his arms raised in surrender despite JJ screaming for him to stop from where Morgan and Hotch held her back from following him in.

Bugsy and Penelope watched from the CCTV in blood curdling horror when Chris put two bullets in him before he could even declare he was unarmed.

“Did you see where he was shot?” JJ asked, her tone empty, her eyes bloodshot where she had broken down into a fit of wails as soon as the gunshots had sounded through the street.

Bugsy opened her mouth to speak, losing all hope as soon as the bluebell gaze fell to her for an explanation.

“Is he alive or dead, Bug?” JJ snipped, but she knew she didn’t mean it, knew she was just worried out her mind and grasping at straws.

“I don’t know, I’m sorry,” Bugsy replied, Emily’s hand at the small of her back in a comforting gesture because she sounded scared. She wished Spencer was with her, he always knew how to make people feel better, but he and Kevin had gone back to their office uptown to use Penelope’s personal lair for better coverage on the BAU’s resources.

“He was wearing a vest,” Emily jumped in, because Bug was tense and upset enough as it was, “He might be okay,”

“Might be?” JJ said humourlessly, her face hollow with sadness, “Alright we need to get inside,”

“JJ, it’s too risky,” Morgan tried as the woman stood up, a new found determination, because she refused to accept her partner, the father of her child, was dead until she saw him in a body bag for herself, “We don’t have eyes in there anymore,”

Jennifer’s eyes welled up again, and she turned to their unit chief; he was the only one who could understand just how desperate she felt right now if there was even the smallest chance he could still be alive. “Aaron.”

Hotch took a breath, nodding to her with complete empathy, “Let’s go in,”

Bugsy leapt for the medical kit they’d kept in the cupboard, because if she could stop the bleeding as soon as possible he might have a chance. She was taken back to when she had gotten to Emily that night with Doyle, when she had nothing but the clothes on her back and a loaded gun to treat her sister with, when she had felt completely helpless.

She refused to feel like that again, not now she’d been lucky enough to get Emily back. She refused to let JJ and tiny Henry go through what she did.

Will wouldn’t die if she had anything to do with it.

“Seeing what’s going on outside doesn’t help us inside,” Spencer said, standing behind where Kevin sat in Pen’s office, his hazel eyes falling to the surveillance footage of the bank live streaming from one of the choppers, where the familiar woman he worried for more than he could ever tell her moved behind a SWAT unit towards the front doors, a large med kit strapped to her back, a pistol at her side.

He looked down at the blueprints of the bank because if he watched her get even ten feet away the bank he thought he might just throw up, even if there were four armed men shielding her.

“Kevin, can you possibly pull up each of the surveillance feeds prior to Will being shot?” He asked, quickly diverting his attention away from where they were at an impasse waiting for something to happen, Emily’s SWAT team moving slowly towards hers.

“Sure, what are we looking for?” The other man asked, his fingers sprawling over Penelope’s keyboard as he did as requested, playing the older footage on the opposite screen, though even he was getting cold feet watching their team getting ready to breach the perimeter.

“The female UnSub disappeared once before, if she wasn’t looking for an escape, what was she doing?”

Spencer paused, because he couldn’t help when his eyes flicked back to the footage of Bugsy shuffling closer to the entrance behind one SWAT agent, and the doors burst open, the entire street pausing for a second to see what the movement was.

The hostages. The civillians caught in the crossfire at the bank slowly trickled out of the doorway, their arms raised in peace, some crying in relief though there was no sign of Will anywhere.

This was bad. Though he felt utmost care that the hostages had been released safely, he knew that the UnSubs keeping Will meant one of two things. One, that Will was already dead and useless to them, or two, keeping him bleeding out as a bargaining chip was their final play. Meaning they had no intention of releasing him, otherwise they would be left with nothing.

If he wasn’t already dead, he would be any minute now.

Spencer’s chest crashed in devastation for his friend and his godson, though it soon took a turn of terror when it seemed the same thought ran through Bugsy’s mind and she began stepping forward towards where the hostages were shuffling out in floods of tears.

He saw Morgan and Emily yelling at her to stop, two of the SWAT team trying to follow her because they had no idea what had come over the twenty something year old rookie with a death wish. Spencer tried to ignore the way his chest clawed in horror, his eyes snapping back onto the surveillance of the female UnSub disappearing into the back rooms of the bank, completely ignoring the vault and the very clearly marked exit, meaning she had no intention of using either.

So what was she doing?”

Spencer felt his head rattling with a horrid thought, hoping his intuition was wrong when he held the blueprints up to the screen, his skin turning to gooseflesh when he realised just exactly where she had been dipping out to with that backpack of hers.

“Gas mains,” His voice was numb with fear, his body diving for their comm link to Garcia, where she sat in the trailer with Strauss and Rossi, watching the surveillance just as he was, “Garcia, get them out of there now,”

But no sooner had he said anything, Bugsy’s figure disappeared into the building, the SWAT team confirming that the entrance was clear, JJ and Morgan moving after her with their own agents protecting them.

But she was already inside, his head screamed at him. Even when he heard David’s frantic voice through the radio they had linked to their kevlars, “ABORT, ABORT!”

Even when he heard Hotch swear hastily, calling to his team to hold back, trying to yell loud enough JJ and her team could hear his orders to take cover.

Spencer couldn’t truly take any of it in as he watched the large glass windows wobble for a second, a shock wave of what he knew was about to come.

The lines went dead, and he thought for a second his heart stopped. Because he hadn’t figured it out fast enough, hadn’t warned them before she had chance to throw herself head first into danger the way he should have known she would.

Because Spencer watched the footage with a terror he had never known, not even in his eight years on the team, not even in his own situations as a hostage, not even when he was at his lowest and he thought the dilaudid was going to finish him off, alone and high in his apartment’s little bathroom, a burnt out drug addict who had so much going for him.

Spencer had never felt the sheer, spine-chilling dread that he did when he watched, useless and heart broken, as the bank went up in a colossal explosion, a plume of flames bursting out of every window, shattering glass and cracking the brickwork, hard enough he watched part of the building start to crumble inwards.

And Bugsy went down with it.

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vivid-ink · 1 year

Text

"The Love Shack" Part I - The Proposition

Relationship: Neteyam(23) x fem!Omatikaya reader(21) x Lo'ak(22)

Story Summary: You’d heard the whispered speculations and stifled giggles during the daytimes. You’d seen the furtive glances that the other women cast at Neteyam and Lo’ak through coquettish eyes, cheeks stained a blushing mauve as they exchanged coy smiles with the two brothers. And during the nights? Hell, you’d heard the moans and wanton cries for yourself… You were definitely curious, but did you have it in you to go through with their proposition?...

Warnings: Adult content 18+ MDNI Word count: 6.1k Content: Mentions of group sex, MMF threesome, smut, sex toy play, squirting

Author's Note: OMG I had to split this into two parts! It was getting too long to do as a oneshot. 😳 But here is the first part and build-up to the juicy as hell NeteyamxReaderxLo'ak threesome. Part II will be uploaded tomorrow! Enjoy Part I! Note: I personally don't use the term 'y/n' so in this story, the reader's name is Neyomi. The name is not used often, I just don't like the 'y/n' term.

You’d heard the whispered speculations and stifled giggles during the daytimes. You’d seen the furtive glances that the other women cast at Neteyam and Lo’ak through coquettish eyes, cheeks stained a blushing mauve as they exchanged coy smiles with the two brothers.

And during the nights? Hell, you’d heard the moans and wanton cries for yourself…

It was a mistake you’d made once, venturing out into the vast Pandoran woodlands after eclipse towards the old, abandoned outpost you knew the brothers had annexed for their use. You’d told yourself you had gotten sidetracked and lost. That you’d been so caught up in your own thoughts that you’d unintentionally veered off course on your forest stroll and found yourself in the outpost’s vicinity by accident.

You knew that wasn’t quite true. You’d been curious.

The other young women gossiped. Women from everywhere in the clan; warriors, hunters, weavers, cooks, gatherers, all sharing surreptitious murmurs about the nighttime activities that the olo’eyktan’s sons partook in with them. They whispered of the delight and the pleasure of their clandestine experiences with bothbrothers.

Lo’ak was playful and flirtatious in general, so you could easily see how he fit into the role of an unrepentant womaniser. But Neteyam? Neteyam, who you worked alongside nearly every day as his second-in-command during platoon hunts and warrior patrols… Neteyam, who was next-in-line to be olo’eyktan after his father, who commanded the respect of the clan and its council… Responsible, reserved and gallant Neteyam?

You hadn’t wanted to believe it.

So, when you’d found yourself near the old war outpost one evening, your tingling feet had carried you closer despite the admonition in your mind. Padding on silent feet towards the glow of firelight, the breathless sighs and blissful cries had echoed in the sultry air around you from within the outpost shelter. The sensual sounds had entranced you and you’d found yourself unable to tear yourself away from the area where you were hidden, something you recounted now with no small amount of shame.

And when the noises had ceased and three women had departed the outpost, closely followed by Lo’ak and Neteyam, the hitching breath that was your gasp had caught in your throat.

There was nothing illicit about what they were doing. Na’vi were passionate people; as long as there was consent and security all round, sexual freedom was embraced in their culture. You were just surprised by Neteyam’s involvement in such group liaisons. It was difficult for you to reconcile the charismatic and modest side of him that you saw in the daytimes with such lubricious nighttime activities.

After your inadvertent discovery, which had confirmed to you that the natter you’d heard of was true, you’d tried your best to forget about it. Neteyam was still the same man he was; charming, respectful and a great platoon leader. Nothing about how he chose to spend his nights should’ve affected the way you perceived him, and yet you couldn’t look at him the same way.

Every morning, Neteyam would discuss patrol plans or hunting strategy with you just as he always did, but you struggled to meet his eyes for longer than a moment now. He would joke with you and rib you, but your laughs were awkward and less carefree than before.

You were… disappointed? Not disappointed in him per se, just disappointed in general. Or perhaps envious was the correct word… Envious of the other women for having him… But the proud part of you refused to entertain the thought. You weren’t going to be jealous; it was beneath you. After all, Neteyam was your direct report and you were a firm believer that not screwing the crew kept things running smoothly.

He hadn’t commented on the change in your behaviour around him, but you knew he’d picked up on it. You would catch him from time to time watching you through his golden eyes, and though his expression was cool, there was enquiry swirling about in their depths, a certain scrutiny in them as if he was attempting to figure you out.

Things got even more uncomfortable when it became increasingly apparent with time that nearly all the other women appeared to have engaged in a dalliance with the brothers at one point or another.

It made you feel like you were on the outside of some big secret that everyone else was in on except you. But you dug your heels in nonetheless. You weren’t going to participate in these lustful group affairs where you would just be another body writhing amongst the others. You’d had your share of intimacy with men in the past and you weren’t a saint, but there was just something about sensual play in a group that made you uneasy.

So, when your best friend, Tula, came sauntering up to you in the pa’li (direhorse) pen that morning after receiving a lascivious grin from Lo’ak who was going past, you were immediately suspicious.

Narrowing accusatory eyes at your friend, who appeared almost giddy with contentment, you asked, “What’s all that about?”

“Oh, you know,” Tula trilled, aiming for a nonchalant tone and failing miserably when she giggled and waved at another young woman, Neneka, who winked at her craftily, “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Tula.” Her name was ground out from between your clenched teeth as you surveyed her calculatingly. You’d known Tula since you were both young children and you knew her inside-out. She was more like a sister really. Something was up and you knew it.

Thankfully, Tula was not much of a liar and the two of you never kept secrets from each other. She caved under the heat of your assessing gaze, “Neneka convinced me to go last night, alright?”

A shocked gasp left you and you ushered her to the side of the pen, away from the other warriors, “What? What happened to you and I sticking all this nonsense out together, huh?”

“Shh! It wasn’t even that bad. It was just some fun in a small group. Everyone had a good time.” Tula hissed in return, her ears flicking fretfully while she tried to placate you.

“Like a group orgy?! How many of you were there?”

Rolling her eyes with a long-suffering sigh, Tula grasped at your forearms to stop you flailing them about, “No, it wasn’t an orgy, it was simply some playful touching and massage. It was just Neneka, myself and Miria who went.”

“Let’s see, five people massaging private body parts together?” You spluttered incredulously, and when Tula didn’t refute your statement you took it as agreement and exclaimed in a cross whisper, “That’s an orgy!”

“Well it was worth it! Honestly, I understand what all the other women have been saying now. It was amazing. They’ve got these things, I don’t know what they’re called, these tawtute (human) things that hum against you-”

You could feel your eyes growing larger and larger as you listened to Tula, the sting of betrayal sharp in your chest. You and Tula had made a pact that neither of you would participate in these clandestine activities. You had successfully stuck it out together over the last few moons, despite all the others falling victim one by one to whatever enchantment the Sully brothers seemed to have cast over them.

Eywa, you wondered if their father, the olo’eyktan, even knew what mischief his sons got up to in the darker hours of eclipse…

“Oh, don’t look so horrified, Neyomi. It’s all harmless fun.” Tula chastised sharply, tossing one side of her braids over her shoulder and folding her arms across her chest.

“You didn’t even tell me that you were going.”

Tula’s hairless brows rose, her forehead crinkling in confusion, “You wouldn’t have wanted to go and I knew you’d react like this if I told you!”

Sniffing sullenly, your face twisted into an unimpressed moue, “So, did you sleep with both of them?”

Tula scoffed and adjusted her bow where it was slung around her torso. She pushed past you and began making her way back to her pa’li, “No, I didn’t. Miria might have chosen to explore things further with Lo’ak, but I was content to just experience those tawtute things.”

“Did Neneka sleep with Neteyam?”

Tula glanced back at you as you trailed after her and her expression gentled. Clearly she hadn’t missed the slight edge in your voice, “There was touching between them, but nothing beyond that. I don’t even think they kissed. It’s not always about sex, you know. Sometimes it’s just a comfort to find and bring pleasure to someone else without going all the way.”

“Right.” Something light unfurled in your chest at her words; what was it? Relief?

Saddling up her mount, Tula sighed as she watched you fiddle distractedly with the buckles and straps of your pa’li’s saddle. She reached out to place a gentle hand on your elbow, “If it makes you feel better, I hear Neteyam really only likes to watch. He isn’t quite as open with his affections as his brother is.”

Feigning casualness, you turned and shrugged at her, “What anyone else chooses to do with their body is not any of my business. I just feel the whole ruse is a bit much and not my thing.”

It was Tula’s turn to narrow her eyes shrewdly at you, “Yes, but I know your feelings for Neteyam make it all the harder to stomach.”

“I don’t have feelings for him.” You replied with a conscious effort to keep your tone even, “I just find him very attractive.”

Vaguely, you wondered to yourself if your former statement was completely truthful. The latter statement certainly was.

Neteyam was nothing short of beautiful in your eyes; he had a handsome face, was tall, broad and well-muscled. To be fair, Lo’ak was too, but there was just something about Neteyam that appealed to you a little more over his younger brother. As for not having feelings for him, you’d sounded fairly convincing, but the words had tasted like a lie on your tongue.

The snort that Tula emitted was far from ladylike, “You keep telling yourself that. I don’t know why you’re being so stubborn. You think he’s attractive, so wouldn’t it be fun if you came along and got to explore him in a more sensual light? He’s only your boss during work time.”

Rubbing down your pa’li’s legs in preparation for the long day ahead, you felt heat bloom in your cheeks and neck at the thought. You knew you were in major denial. The feminine side of you very much wanted to get to know Neteyam in that way, just not in front all the others, where you would have to share…

“No.” You countered, patting your mount’s muscular neck affectionately, “I’m not going to just show up and invite myself along.”

“But that’s what everyone does! You go along if you want to and bring anyone else who’s keen. You don’t need a personal invitation or anything. It’s free and easy. Come on, I know you’re a little bit curious.”

You were about to hiss a caustic retort at Tula about not wanting to be just another piece of meat in a line of women when a deep voice spoke from behind you.

“Who wants a personal invitation?” Shit. Lo’ak.

You startled and froze, feeling something clench uncomfortably in your belly at the scare.Your panicked response flew from your lips at the same time as Tula’s answer.

“No one!”

“Neyomi does.”

The incensed expression you shot Tula would have speared a yerik (hexapede) dead in an instant, but after a lifetime of knowing you, she was immune to your dagger-sharp glares and simply blew a raspberry in your face.

Lo’ak gave a dark chuckle, “Is that so?”

Sucking a slow and measured breath through your nose, you steeled yourself to face the younger Sully brother. Swivelling on your heels, your gaze locked with Lo’ak’s orbs of amber which glinted in the daylight, bright with mischief. He grinned, the pointed tips of his canines peeking out from behind his upper lip in a roguish smile.

“Nope, Tula’s lying. I’m not interested.” You stated matter-of-factly.

Tula crowed with laughter beside you, “No I’m not! Why would I lie? I’m trying to help you.”

“If it’s a personal invitation you want, you can consider it done.” Lo’ak added, “I think you might be the only girl left who hasn’t come by to take a look at least. You’re more than welcome to come and play.” He finished his sentence with a suggestive wink, which earned him an emphatic gag and eyeroll from you.

Despite your exaggerated show of repulsion, the good-humoured laugh that Lo’ak gave in response caused a flurry of involuntary flutters in your belly. Most of his dread-locked braids were tied back behind his head, but the few loose beaded strands bobbed and swayed as he laughed and you reluctantly admitted to yourself that he was just as striking as his older brother was.

Lo’ak’s jaw was more angular than Neteyam’s, sharper in the chin where Neteyam’s was squarer. His eyes were slightly more wide-set within a strong browbone. Neteyam also wore his hair differently in his usual signature loose braids, but aside from these differences, both brothers looked remarkably alike. Both as tall as the other and equally strapping. Definitely blood brothers; two incredibly good-looking blood brothers…

“For the last time, no.” You hissed with a scowl, the points of your ears pinning flat against your head, “I’m not going to be a part of some group orgy. It’s not my thing. I don’t like to share.”

Lo’ak’s brows raised at your last comment and he smirked, committing your remark to memory. You were too busy to notice the scheming expression on his face as you aimed several swats at Tula, who was now whining at you to loosen up and ‘let go and live’.

“It’s alright ladies, no need to get mean.” Lo’ak conciliated, watching as you snarled at a thwarted Tula who appeared very unimpressed.

A familiar hooting whistle sounded from outside the pen and it immediately caught your attention. Neteyam was rounding up the day’s patrol party for briefing prior to setting off. With a brusque farewell to Tula and a muttered promise to catch her later, you stomped off towards the rest of the hunting party where they were gathering. As second-in-command you were required up front with Neteyam and you didn’t want to keep him waiting.

Lo’ak, however, was having far too much fun with his joshing around. He caught up to you in a few long strides, walking alongside you, “I meant what I said. Your invitation remains open, if you change your mind.”

You pursed your lips at him and shook your head in vexation, “Piss off, skxawng.” There wasn’t any real heat in your voice though. He chuckled again.

You liked Lo’ak as an individual. He was amiable and had a great sense of humour. Though he could be annoying, as he was being right now, you could never stay mad at him for very long. He inevitably always found his way back into your good graces with a sharp quip or a good joke.

But just as you were about to put the morning’s conversation behind you and move on with your day, Lo’ak fired another crack at you, “Or maybe it’s the wrong brother asking.”

You should’ve scoffed at the quip and sauntered onward. Or just played it cool and laughed the statement off, but instead your feet faltered in their steps and you ground to a halt. You were anything but cool when it came to Neteyam. He was one aspect of your life where you could never feign anything other than what you really felt, especially when your emotions were strong.

The delicate points of your ears flicked self-consciously, the tuft of your tail ceasing its swaying to lie low and still by your calves. You turned wide eyes up at Lo’ak. It was the wrong reaction if you’d wanted to keep your secret and persuade Lo’ak otherwise…

A haughty smile split Lo’ak’s face from ear to ear as if he had just made the discovery of some rare species of exotic animal. He cackled before moseying onward towards the patrol party, calling nonchalantly over his shoulder, “I’ll let him know.”

“Lo’ak, no!” Rooted to the spot, you felt equal parts infuriated and equal parts stricken while you watched him disappear into the crowd of assembled warriors. Eywa help you… The last thing you needed was for Lo’ak to make things any more awkward than they already were between you and Neteyam.

Clenching your fists and pressing your lips into a tight line, you stamped your way to the front of the party to flank Neteyam in your usual spot by his side. You saw Lo’ak smiling smugly at you from the second row of warriors and your eyes narrowed to slits as you glowered back at him.

Seeing your disconcerted state, Neteyam’s forehead crinkled in question at you and he murmured, “Everything alright?”

“Yes, sir.” Your response was short and clipped.

An embarrassed blush was already colouring your neck and face after your exchange with Lo’ak, so you kept your gaze ahead of you, knowing that meeting Neteyam’s eyes would only increase the hot rush of blood to your cheeks. You could feel the familiar tingle of his calculating gaze beside you before a soft and husky chuckle left him. It was unexpected and you instinctively turned your head to look at him.

Big mistake.

Neteyam’s handsome face was peering down at you and a smirk was dancing across his lips. You felt your tummy squeeze and a burst of flutters erupted. By Eywa, why was he looking at you like that?... Great goddess, you were standing in front of the entire party and everyone was watching…

Clearing your throat loudly, you greeted the gathered warriors and called them all to attention, essentially forcing Neteyam to look away and begin his own address.

Neteyam briefed the party of the day’s plan: A patrol out to the southern-most border of Omatikaya territory. He’d already mentioned today’s patrol strategy to you the previous day, so his voice was drowned out to a hum in the background of your consciousness as your inner thoughts consumed you.

Fuck, if Lo’ak told Neteyam you were attracted to him, would it cause a conflict of interest in your professional relationship with him?... Would Neteyam be too uncomfortable to have you as his second-in-command?... You loved your work and you loved working with him. Eywa, the shame of being removed from your position would be mortifying…

The rustling scatter of the patrol party in front of you pulled you out of your thoughts and back to the present. You’d zoned out through the entirety of Neteyam’s briefing, you realised. The warriors were all making their way back to their pa’li now to get into their departure formations.

The sight of Lo’ak ambling towards you and Neteyam spurred you into motion and you strode away with a huff. You didn’t want to be caught in any more awkward exchanges today, especially in front of Neteyam.

Neteyam’s eyes trailed after your retreating form, noting the annoyed whip and lash of your tail. His gaze slid higher, appreciating the lithe length of your toned thighs and up further to the pert rounds of your bottom. He bit his lip and shook the gathering collection of unchaste thoughts from his mind.

Pulling his armguard onto his right arm and adjusting his cummerbund around his waist, Neteyam’s attention snapped to his brother when Lo’ak strolled up to him snickering. Neteyam put two and two together immediately, surmising that his brother had clearly ticked you off this morning.

“You better watch yourself, bro.” Neteyam cautioned mildly, “She’ll kick your ass, slice it up and serve it to you for dinner.”

Clicking his tongue with a cock of his head, Lo’ak agreed, “That’s why she’s your second-in-command. But hey man, she can kick my ass, and use and abuse it as much as she likes when we play in the evenings.”

That last sentence piqued Neteyam’s attention. His ears pricked upward in full focus, seeking more clarification from his brother, “What do you mean?”

“I told you getting Tula onboard was key.”

Neteyam eyed Lo’ak fixedly, “Has Neyomi agreed to come to next week’s meet-up?”

“Nope, she’s still being stubborn but she’s definitely curious. She was just asking Tula about last night.” Lo’ak informed. He gave a suggestive purse of his lips then and continued with a cheeky leer at his brother, “Although I might have discovered a few titbits that might sway her.”

***~~~***

The mossy ground was plush underfoot as Neteyam stole through the verdant underbrush on silent feet. Eclipse had settled over them and the evening atmosphere was alive with bioluminescence. A mild draught was swirling about and he lifted his chin and parted his lips, inhaling through his nose and mouth to scent the air lightly. The familiar smell of your sweet scent tantalised his nose and danced on his tongue, tasting a little like fresh fruit with a natural honeyed note to it that made his mouth water, and made rather carnal images fill his head.

Yes, he very much wanted to taste you… He wanted to taste the supple skin of your neck, to lick the tips of your fingers and kiss other more sensual parts of you…

Vaguely, Neteyam wondered to himself if you suspected at all how much his mind like to wander when you were near him during hunts and patrols. He wondered if you had withdrawn from him recently because you had noticed his subtle staring; he wondered if perhaps you had doggedly refused to come to the old outpost with the other women because you didn’t feel the same way about him.

But if what Lo’ak had tipped him off about this morning was true then the aforementioned reason was not at all the reason for your stubborn evasion. Hopefully his gentle plan to sway you would work in his favour and pique your curiosity enough to coax you into coming by.

He could see your seated form not far from where he was currently positioned behind some eyaye ferns. Your back was to him, your tail curled on the ground behind you, its tuft flicking intently back and forth while you concentrated on your task at hand. He could see a long branch protruding outward to your side where you held it in your left hand, while your right hand was making rhythmic strikes at its other end. It seemed you were crafting a new hunting spear.

Your aptitude for crafting tools and weapons was one of the many things that drew him to you. Your finished pieces were always well-made, intricate in design and beautiful to behold. You were also a proficient warrior; skilled during hunts with a good mind for strategy, and level-headed enough to hold your own in high pressure situations. He was fortunate to have you as his second-in-command. Those were some of your best character traits.

As for your physical traits, well… If Neteyam was honest, he had to admit that there wasn’t anything about your body that didn’t appeal to his male instincts. You were very appealing…

Deciding to make his presence known, Neteyam intentionally shuffled through the broad leaves of the ferns and cleared his throat lightly. He figured sneaking up on you and startling you wouldn’t endear him to you, which could be detrimental to the result of the little proposition he had to for you.

Your reaction was instant, your ears swivelling in his direction, closely followed by your upper body as you heard his approach. Your eyes widened at the sight of him, surprised, though you didn’t make any move to get up.

“Hey,” Neteyam greeted coolly as he strolled over to you, “Can I join you?”

“Ah, sure?” You replied, sounding a little uncertain, “Tula is meeting me here soon though.”

Biting his bottom lip and looking somewhat guilty, Neteyam shook his head with a sheepish smile, “Tula isn’t coming to meet you. I asked her to set this meeting up so I could catch you to talk.”

Puzzlement lined the contours of your face and you set the spear you had been carving down before you, “Why did you need Tula to do that? You could’ve asked me yourself.”

Neteyam emitted a short bark of laughter and pulled one of his hands down his face, “I would’ve if you hadn’t avoided me all day today.”

He watched you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, clearly caught out by the truth of the situation. Your attention returned to your spear and you picked the branch up again to resume your whittling. You murmured, “Ok, what’s up?”

“I should be asking you that. You’ve been more withdrawn than usual lately.” Neteyam began gently, “And then today you insisted on bringing up the rear of the patrol party instead of riding up front with me. You’ve barely even acknowledged me today.”

You shifted uncomfortably on your crossed legs, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“I didn’t think you were being rude, I just thought it out of character for you. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, nothing’s wrong.”

Neteyam wasn’t convinced. You didn’t appear to be lying and yet your response didn’t feel entirely sincere either. You still weren’t meeting his eyes.

Your behaviour had definitely changed around him in recent moons. It had started as mild awkwardness at first, but as the weeks had gone on it had become clearer to him that you were putting up walls and putting distance between the both of you. It was a perceptible contrast to your usually robust work partnership that was felt comfortable and strong in trust.

“Look, if I’ve said something or done something to upset you, you’d tell me, right?” He broached.

“Yeah, if it was reasonable and I wasn’t disrespecting your rank.”

Neteyam thought that was an odd answer. He expected a simple yes or no, along with a reason if applicable. He mused to himself, so whatever was bothering you… you obviously felt it was unreasonable to bring up with him…

“So you are upset about something. A work decision I’ve made?”

“No! It isn’t about work.” You were getting flustered now, which was something Neteyam wasn’t used to seeing on you. It was yet another hint that you were upset. You carried on, “It’s nothing. It’s a ‘me’ thing, no big deal. Everything is fine. I need to get back home.”

Half-finished spear in hand, you tucked your carving knife back into its sheath at your side and nimbly rose to your feet, making to leave.

Recalling what Lo’ak (and later Tula too) had told him, Neteyam resolved to get to the point. You clearly weren’t going to tell him, so he might as well come right out with it and ask.

Getting to his own feet, he quickly strode after you as you marched away back towards camp, “So it’s not because I haven’t issued you a personal invitation to come along to the outpost?”

Neteyam almost smacked into the back of you as you halted in your steps and whirled around to face him.

“What? No!” You almost shrieked, “Lo’ak is so full of shit! I don’t want an invitation to your guys’ love shack!”

Neteyam noted the purpling blush that was staining your cheeks and the indignance that was flashing in your wide amber eyes. You were beautiful in your bother. He couldn’t help it. He smirked, fighting the urge to laugh when his expression only seemed to aggravate you further.

“Love shack? That’s quite a good name actually. Maybe we’ll start calling it that.”

You blinked dubious eyes at him and your ears lowered a fraction. You huffed out a jaded laugh and gave a slow shake of your head, “Ugh I can’t believe you. I never expected group liaisons to be your thing. But it’s none of my business and you can do what you like. It isn’t my place to judge. It just surprised me is all.”

Neteyam took a tentative step towards you, “Why does that surprise you?”

You swallowed hard, noticing the way Neteyam had begun to close the distance between you. Part of you was regretting the way you had just run your mouth and admitted you were perturbed by his choice of nighttime activities. You should have just kept your gob shut and gone home. Now you were cornered and he was asking questions.

The mild breeze that had been blowing before had vanished and the air lay heavy and thick around you. You didn’t know if you were imagining it, but you could really smell Neteyam. A fragrant musk was pouring off him and Eywa help you, he smelled so good…

Aware that Neteyam was still waiting on an answer, and not wanting to appear affected by the close proximity you now shared with him, you spoke measuredly, “You’re just so polite and proper all the time. I guess I didn’t expect you to have such a wild streak.”

Neteyam took another precise step in your direction and he was close enough now that you could run the flats of your hands up his chest without any trouble. He was close enough that you couldn’t look at his face without tilting your head back. The atmosphere tightened with a type of enticing tension, cocooning you both in a tantalising void that made it very difficult to notice anything else apart from each other.

All Neteyam could smell in the humid air was you, the lovely perfume of your scent assailing his senses and making every fibre of his being ignite with desire. It made his blood pump fast and hot through his veins with the increasing pace of his thumping heart. You thought he didn’t have a wild streak?... Oh, how he yearned to introduce you to the red-blooded male that existed within him…

“The side of me you see when we work is only one side of me. I’ve got a fun side too.” Neteyam breathed softly and there was a gravelly note to his voice that you’d never heard before.

It was deep and captivating, and it breathed over you in hot shivers that made your nipples peak behind the covering of beads and leaves over your breasts. Ever so slowly, his head tipped downward towards yours and he took yet another step towards you, bringing the both of you almost front to front with nothing but a scant sliver of space left between you.

He continued, “Being my father’s successor demands that I maintain a certain conduct during professional and official clan affairs, but the mantle gets tiresome to bear. And I am just a man under it all, with needs and desires like any other.”

“Mm hmm.” Your acknowledgement was a wordless and breathy squeak. You felt as if you were caught in some trance and it felt like you were in a dream. Neteyam was gently sniffing you now, the lightly twitching of his nose tickling the skin of your temple and your cheek. The position put your own nose a mere inch or two from the skin of his neck and jawline and the musky scent of him was delectable in your nostrils and on your tongue.

“But my participation in these group liaisons really bothers you, why?”

Neteyam’s question wasn’t a rhetorical question, but there was a strange mocking hint in his voice that implied he suspected or knew the answer to his own question. You were unable to answer anyway. Your voice had abandoned you for the time being as a lump had taken up residence in your throat. You may have been unable to speak, but it didn’t stop your brain forcing you to confront the answer to his question within yourself.

You knew why Neteyam’s involvement bothered you. You were just in denial about it; too proud to admit that you didn’t like the idea of him mingling with other women because you were jealous. It was also true that you weren’t keen on group flings, but the main reason you had refused to go to the outpost until now was because you didn’t want to go along and see him and share him with others.

Neteyam hadn’t displayed any obvious interest in you previously, but it was evident even to you now that he was attracted to you. The concentrated muskiness of his scent was unmistakeable for what it was: arousal. Even with the intimate nearness of his frame to yours, neither you nor he made any move to touch each other with your hands.

Feeling a twinge of remorse for being judgemental and making presumptions about his character, a whispered apology fell from your lips, “Sorry for being presumptuous. I shouldn’t judge you.”

His response was equally quiet, “Don’t apologise, just come to the outpost tomorrow night. Consider this your personal invitation.”

Neteyam’s nose caressed the soft skin of your cheek and the action elicited an involuntary shudder from you. He stepped back a little to look you in the eyes and his own eyes were glowing bright. There was obvious desire swirling in their depths like heat through molten gold.

Despite the palpable lust between you, your conscience decided to make itself known and doubt began to stir in your gut, “I don’t know, Neteyam.”

“It’ll be just you and us. No one else.”

Oh… That proposition sounded rather tempting…

Neteyam’s use of the word ‘us’ reminded you that Lo’ak was part of the picture too. You, Neteyam and Lo’ak in a secluded space exploring the possibilities of sensual indulgence… You were a little shocked to find that the sentiment did not repel you. Instead, you felt a spear of anticipation low in your belly.

Seeing and sensing your internal deliberation, Neteyam gave a gruff chuckle and joked, “I outrank you. You have to do as I say as my subordinate. Just come to outpost tomorrow night. You’re free to do as you please and leave when you wish. It’s a safe space, I promise.”

Pursing your lips at his playful attempt to pull rank on you, you scoffed, “You can’t do that. You can’t make me come.”

You realised your poor choice of words too late, and it was clear that Neteyam had picked up on the innuendo as well.

A brazen grin flashed across his handsome face and it was the most conceited you had ever seen him look, “Oh, I’m sure I can.”

Parting your lips to object and make yourself clear, your words were stolen from you when Neteyam swiftly closed the gap between you to slot his lips over yours.

You stiffened in surprise for all but a moment before your legs turned weak and you sagged against him, the forward pitch of your body forcing one of your hands to anchor itself against his chest for support. It helped that Neteyam also looped a muscular arm around the small of your back, clutching you to him.

Eywa have mercy on you… The warm, moist draw of Neteyam’s lips over yours was intoxicating. You were hardly cognisant of the fact that you had dropped your half-finished spear from your other hand as your arms intuitively shifted to snake their way around his neck. Separating for a quick breath, you were about to lean upward towards him for another kiss when he moved to pull away.

You almost whimpered in disappointment. Maybe you did. You didn’t know. Still spellbound by the heady ambience, you gazed up at him speechless.

Neteyam chortled at the sight of you; eyelids a little heavy, cheeks flushed, lips parted as your shallow breaths puffed from between them. You looked ravishing and you had tasted even better. He raised a hand to cup your cheek and his thumb swiped in a provocative drag over your bottom lip.

“Just a little taste.” He crooned, and he let his hand drop then. He began to walk away slowly, but he paused a few moments later and turned to address you one last time, “Tomorrow night, paskalin (sweet berry). After last meal.”

You watched, rooted to your spot, while Neteyam disappeared into the luminous phosphorescence of the night.

Great Mother, what just happened?

Part II - Three is a Perfect Crowd HERE

Author's Note: Thank you to all of you who have read and enjoyed Part I! Stay tuned for Part II. You'll need to bring a towel for that... things get very, very juicy. Reblogs, likes & comments are always so, so loved! Let me know if you'd like a tag for Part II. 😄 Taglist so far: @teymars @eyweveng @leaveitbythewave @luvteyams @akiras-key @bajbr @questioningconstellationsstuff @reggiesslut @neteluvr @savvysscandles

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chocosvt · 1 month

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HER | part six (m).

✧✎ synopsis: wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader word count: 22.6k genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.

(!) warnings: drug use (weed, cocaine, ecstasy), wonwoo has anxiety + anxiety attacks + fairly dark thoughts, prescribed medication, gambling, intense language, infidelity, throwing up.

✧✎ a/n: just some quick things i want to make apparent!

the fic is told from wonwoo’s pov, not the reader’s!

all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates

any smut or potentially triggering scenes are NOT MARKED bc the content is already quite mature, so just plz be aware of that!

bolded and italicized text implies the characters are conversing in korean, tho it doesn’t happen often!

the fic in its entirety is 140k, so it has been split into 6 parts.

here it is... the FINAL part 😭 it seemed that a number of you were quite worried as to how i'd wrap this up, and i can finally give you the answer! :3 this has been an epic journey. thank yew for ur time 💕

more rambling continues at the very end. as per usual. again, a little bit more of an early upload! as a treat <3

⇢ part one | part two | part three | part four | part five ⇢ soundtrack for those curious! ⇢ read at ur own pace! :)

—SEPTEMBER 30TH.

The morning after was strange.

Early sunlight permeated through the living room’s white cloth curtains, dappling in water-like speckles against the glasses still held on his nose. For a moment, Wonwoo was frozen, as his mind made the shift from deep sleep to consciousness, though when he finally did awaken to find his blanket half-pushed off the recliner and the remnants of Chinese takeout left scattered across the coffee table, his lethargy started fading.

Vernon was gone.

Judging from the text on Wonwoo’s phone, the boy had quietly made his way out at around seven in the morning. It surprised Wonwoo to no end that Vernon could manage to sleep so little yet remain fully functional all the time. He seemed magic—or maybe it was something else that Wonwoo would be concerned to know about.

He spent some time cleaning off the coffee table.

Down the hall, his bedroom door remained closed.

When you finally did emerge, it was with the olive-green dress draped over your arm and the ivory heels in hand, which you proceeded to arrange on the small dining table by the kitchen.

Notably, however, there was something off about you, something that Wonwoo interpreted as nerves with an underlying awkwardness you didn’t typically, if at all, demonstrate. When he asked if you wanted breakfast and tea, your response was a tiny head shake and a poorly fit smile. Though, Wonwoo wasn’t going to paw at you.

He found that mornings always tended to be quite sobering, even if he hadn’t exactly drunk enough to make the room spin or swallowed some colourfully disguised pill on his tongue. Just the air was enough to rewire his head—that cooler, crisp air that he either loved or hated.

Undoubtedly, you had much to think about.

Wonwoo helped you get a hold of Princess using his phone, and the two of you watched television in silence while waiting for her to pick you up. He escorted you down through the pottery shop when it was time, and you sported very little shame, walking out onto the bright city sidewalk in just his t-shirt, clothes and shoes wrapped in your arms. Princess had this awfully perplexed look slapped onto her face while leaning over to nudge the car door open for you, and in that moment, Wonwoo was scared of how it all appeared and what might transpire now that the giddiness and frivolity from the night before had ebbed away. He didn’t regret anything, though. Not at all.

But, in truth, what the fuck even were you two?

And what was supposed to happen now?

—OCTOBER 3RD.

Since you had left his apartment in a daze that Saturday morning, Wonwoo hadn’t seen or heard from you. It was concerning him as time passed, he couldn’t deny it, but he also trusted you and wanted not to make you feel pressured into explaining yourself.

He was caught in a brisk walk along campus after leaving his early lecture, a warm coffee cup pressed against his lip that he had grabbed from the ground floor of SRX—they had been giving hot drinks away for free, and, consequently, it tasted like it. Nonetheless, the air was chillier by the day as autumn pushed its way in and decorated the walkway with dry leaves that rustled and crunched under his shoes. It was nice to have something hot in his hand.

He took a second to glance down at his phone.

Still, no messages from you, Wonwoo realized with a suckling sip of the very watery coffee, nearly tempted to text you himself—not anything pushy—just a simple reassurance that he was there for you if things weren’t going well.

Suddenly, however, Wonwoo had smacked into someone.

“Fuck—sorry,” he muttered, readjusting the computer bag slung over his shoulder and pushing up his circled glasses.

To Wonwoo’s complete and utter misery, he was unfortunately acquainted with the person he’d bumped shoulders, and now he was wishing that he had just kept walking like an impatient asshole.

Seokmin was standing before him, dressed in a similar-style woolen trench coat that his hands were stuffed into, the sun turning certain threads of his chocolate brown hair all shimmery. He hadn’t gotten back to Seokmin’s numerous texts ever since Wonwoo sent a brief, very purposefully vague message to the boy that night he ran out with you at the dinner party.

Now he was wondering if the shoulder bump was intentional.

“Wonwoo… uh, hey,” Seokmin stumbled.

Sniffling, Wonwoo let a second or two pass before answering.

He was still debating whether or not to walk away.

“What’s up?”

“You just get out of class, or?”

Wonwoo nodded. “Yeah—advanced stats.”

Seokmin flitted a barely-there smile, staring at his coffee cup.

“Is that the free stuff from SRX?”

“Indeed.”

“How does it taste?”

“Uh, watery… like shit, basically.”

Wonwoo knew—he fucking knew—that there was something buzzing on the tip of Seokmin’s tongue that he just couldn’t spit out. His absentminded expression and clear not-giving-a-damness about whether Wonwoo’s free coffee was actually good completely betrayed him. Not wanting to dawdle and get stuck in the mud of conversation, Wonwoo swallowed the lump in his throat, flashed his friend a tight-lipped smile, and pitched a goodbye, blandly wording it as, “I won’t keep you. Later.”

But Seokmin didn’t seem prepared to let that happen.

And Wonwoo’s eyes nearly rolled backward into his skull when the boy turned around and attempted to catch his attention again.

For some stupid, incomprehensible reason, Wonwoo stopped.

Maybe he knew the conversation needed to happen.

It only made him loathe the situation more.

“Yeah?”

Seokmin dragged a hand through his hair, brushing it up and down against the back of his head while he squinted at Wonwoo.

“I think… uh… if you’re not busy… I think there’s maybe some stuff we need to talk about. I don’t mean to like, catch you at a bad time or anything… do you wanna go sit at the picnic table over there?”

At Seokmin’s carefully suggested inquiry, Wonwoo followed the boy’s pointing finger toward the empty table placed on the large grass circle that the walkway wove around. With his grip hardening into the coffee cup, Wonwoo stopped to think despite knowing his answer.

“Okay… yeah.”

Wonwoo realized it had never felt this weird and stilted to sit down with Seokmin despite him being quite a reliable friend over the months, though Wonwoo was developing the sneaking feeling that his study buddy was about to deal an irreparable blow to their relationship. Seokmin’s folded hands were sitting atop the flecked, aged wood of the table, thumbs nervously twiddling, meanwhile Wonwoo remained silent to sip from his coffee that only became more and more tasteless.

Eventually, his friend seemed to find the words he needed.

“So, I don’t know if you’ve heard… but… Her and Mingyu are taking a break. They’re officially pressing the big pause button. I wasn’t there to witness the conversation, although I get the gist it was a pretty… uh, unpleasant talk,” Seokmin winced, bracing his teeth, “and… well, naturally, I learned that you were a big part of that talk, seeing how it looked and all—you and Her running out at the dinner party…”

He left what seemed like a purposeful pause, and Wonwoo assumed that he was supposed to feel pressured and jump to make a correction or provide an explanation, but he kept silent and rather expressionless. Ironically, Seokmin was the one to continue his spiel.

“Well, basically, there were some accusations thrown around as you can imagine. And I’m not sitting here to point a finger and question you to death about everything, but I just thought I’d give you the table—uh, literally—to explain what’s been happening.”

Wonwoo finally set aside his drink, then shifting off the strap to his computer bag, letting it fall down his shoulder. He didn’t make a huge, overwhelmed sigh even though his body was screaming for it, nor did he ponder abandoning the conversation despite the magnitude of everything Seokmin laid out for him.

Fuck—he hated being matured.

“I can’t speak on her feelings. But I like her.”

“Oh—you do?” Seokmin was astonishingly surprised.

Wonwoo shrugged. “Yeah.”

“So, then, does that mean—”

“Actually, sorry, I’m downplaying it like a coward,” Wonwoo interrupted, shaking his head, “I don’t just like her. I’m in love with her.”

It was then that Seokmin simply didn’t speak at all. His mouth had formed a hollowed shape, resembling something like a gulping fish, and Wonwoo capitalized on the silence to keep his thoughts fluent.

“I understand, okay? I understand why Mingyu is pissed. It takes two to tango, I get all that. And I know you probably want me to state my regret and all that so I don’t seem like such an asshole, but, honestly, I don’t really regret anything. Mingyu doesn’t care about her.”

Seokmin chuffed, rubbing at his chin. “Okay… I don’t know if I would go as far as to say that in particular. But you are admitting to it? I don’t know what it is you’ve done but you’ve done things with Her.”

“We’ve never had sex if that’s what you’re asking.”

“And—”

“We’ve never kissed, either… the only thing I was supposed to do was help her write that little love story. Which you set up, by the way. I didn’t know it would turn into this. I tried to get out of it.”

“I never thought she would stick it out.”

“I know.” Wonwoo sucked in his bottom lip, staring across the weathered wood at Seokmin. “You probably wanted her to drop it the second she mentioned it. I bet Mingyu thought the same.”

Seokmin scrunched up his face in disagreement. “That’s not necessarily true. She just fixates on stuff and then burns out after. She's always been like that, ever since I've known her. I figured the book would be no different. I thought it was something she needed to get out of her system, I didn’t think it would start rolling and—” he leaned forward into his palms for a moment, swallowing audibly. “Sorry, I just—I don’t get it, that’s all. I don’t get her fixations.”

“I think you’re just uncomfortable with her self-expression.”

“She—it’s not self-expression, though. Look, I know a pinch of what her story is about. It’s not about herself. It’s about Mingyu.”

“You think that just because she’s writing about someone else, there’s no pieces of herself in it? Her own feelings? Her own perspective? C’mon, Seokmin. You’re fucking smarter than that. You know what it's actually about.”

His friend’s eyes drifted away from him.

Wonwoo then cleared his throat. “Look, you don’t really need all the details, Seokmin. Like I said, I don’t know exactly how she feels about me. I can surmise. I can say we’ve had moments that we shouldn’t. But—genuinely—you probably know more than I do and you’re lying to yourself if you can’t realize that Mingyu is just some advantageous prick who makes her miserable.”

“Well, I think that—I don’t know if it’s really—”

“He walked into an opportunity with her and he knew it. His whole fucking life and career was basically set up for him the second he met her family. He’s beyond lucky Her ever looked his way.”

“Jeez, Wonwoo. Honestly, it’s not like that.”

“How is it not?”

Seokmin ran a hand through his hair, appearing flustered and without a tongue to make sense. “Just—okay—I’ve been around them a lot. I know how it seems from an outsider’s view. They can argue and push buttons. Their relationship isn’t perfect, but whose is? Mingyu didn’t just walk into the family asking for this and that—he’s never asked for anything, no handouts. Everything that’s been ‘set up’ for him was because Her’s family wanted it. They know he’s a good guy.”

The scoff shot from Wonwoo’s mouth like an arrow. “I’m sorry but, what do they want for Her? Were we at the same dinner party? Did you see her nearly burst into tears? She has to live life in this rigid box, trying to conform to everyone else around her. Don’t you think she wants to live her own life? Be her own person?”

“Of course, but—”

“No—why is there even a ‘but’?”

“I don’t think you understand. Her has everything she needs.”

“You mean, what everyone thinks she needs.” Wonwoo tossed his hand up in the air, laughing, while also getting the strong impulse to ring out his friend’s neck. “It doesn’t make any sense to me. How can you be so close to her, but you don’t realize how unhappy she is? You know what I think? You’re part of it, Seokmin. You're always in her business, hovering, watching, sewing seeds of doubt, shooting down her interests—and you disguise it as help. No one in that house listens to her. They’ve told her who she should be instead of letting her figure it out for herself. How can you be so complicit in that? She gets no support from any of you, about the decisions in her life that actually matter. And Mingyu—honestly, he can go fuck himself. He’s just as complicit as you. He’s soul-sucking.”

“God—sh-she’s an adult.” Seokmin was exasperated, his cheeks reddening like two ripe apples. “She doesn’t have to visit her parents. She doesn’t have to date Mingyu. Nothing is forced on her. No one is dragging her there. I help because I know what she's capable of. I know the perfect life she can have. Her parents know, too. But she just gets sidetracked! She gets wrapped up in stuff that doesn't matter! If she hates everything, she can easily walk away.”

“But you guys have made that so impossible for her.”

“How?”

Wonwoo proceeded to clench his fist up so tight he thought his skin might bleed, the edge of his knuckles pressing down on the table.

“She doesn’t know who the fuck she is.”

Seokmin instantly paled. He looked whiter than a snowflake.

“That’s like clipping a bird’s wings and then asking why it can’t fly away. Knowing who you are is such a big part of life. It’s arguably the foundation. What the fuck do you want her to do? I don’t even—I honestly don’t even want to look at you, Seokmin. Let Mingyu beat me up if he wants to—let it happen a thousand times—” slinging the computer bag back over his shoulder, Wonwoo was rising from the picnic table while glaring down at the stiff, empty-faced Seokmin, who had suddenly morphed from a friend to a bitter stranger, “—I don’t care what he thinks. It’s not going to change how I feel about her, or make me stay away. I’ve seen who she can be and what she actually wants from life, and it's not some snotty, vapid, copy-and-paste hell that her parents are forcing on her. But neither of you seem to give a shit. You’re both completely undeserving.”

Stepping away from the bench, Wonwoo tensed his jaw as the sunlight splashed over him, breaking in between the skeletal trees and their resilient orange leaves. “Got everything you wanted to know? Go run it back to Mingyu. I’m sure that’s what you were gonna do anyway.”

The anger in his chest felt like it was going to crawl out from his mouth and squeeze Seokmin into a ball, therefore Wonwoo exercised his breathing while on a strict path back down the walkway.

Abandoning Seokmin did hurt him more than he had thought, knowing he just lost a friend from his already very limited circle, someone whom he clicked with so readily. At the same time, however, there was a lightness about it. As Wonwoo’s frustration seeped out during the walk back to his apartment, some of the weight pressed into his shoulders released itself like water evaporating from a blacktop.

He just wished he could be at your side more than anything.

There was obviously a reason for your silence.

[ Wonwoo | 11:28 am ]: I heard about the break.

[ Wonwoo | 11:28 am ]: I’m here if you need anything at all.

…

[ Her | 4:05 pm ]: you talked to seokmin?

[ Wonwoo | 4:07 pm ]: Yeah. Never again.

[ Her | 4:07 pm ]: mingyu is so mad

[ Wonwoo | 4:07 pm ]: I figure.

[ Her | 4:08 pm ]: please avoid him if you can. i’m worried

[ Wonwoo | 4:08 pm ]: I’m not.

[ Her | 4:08 pm ]: wonwoo he’s seriously pissed

[ Her | 4:08 pm ]: can’t you hang out with vernon some more

[ Wonwoo | 4:09 pm ]: Seriously?

[ Her | 4:09 pm ]: yes

[ Her | 4:09 pm ]: mingyu got into trouble with dots and had a real big scare. so he doesn’t like to mess much with him or his friends. he'll showboat but that's about it

[ Her | 4:09 pm ]: well ik dots died but u get the point

[ Wonwoo | 4:10 pm ]: Fair.

[ Wonwoo | 4:10 pm ]: But I can’t just pull Vernon around as my Mingyu repellent lol. Honestly, if he wants to rock me, idc.

[ Her | 4:10 pm ]: well I do care

[ Her | 4:10 pm ]: ugh

[ Her | 4:11 pm ]: life has been sucking so hard lately

[ Wonwoo | 4:11 pm ]: I want to come see you.

[ Her | 4:11 pm ]: I want that too. but I need more time, k?

[ Wonwoo | 4:12 pm ]: I know.

[ Wonwoo | 4:12 pm ]: Here if you need me.

—OCTOBER 18TH.

For the past two weeks, Wonwoo had been walking around with the looming possibility of getting jumped by your six-foot tall, rather muscley boyfriend, and he was thus very relieved to have made it this far without eating a fist to the face. Well, now Mingyu was an ex.

Maybe.

The pause in your relationship read like a gray area that Wonwoo had been treading the thinnest eggshells on, prompting him to wait and hear the truth from you directly whenever you felt steady enough to tell him. He wondered if today might be that day.

Placing another strawberry onto the cutting board, Wonwoo chopped his knife through the leafy green bit, removing the stem. The cleaned-up strawberry was then dropped into a bowl of fresh ones that you had been picking away at for the past few minutes or so.

Wonwoo smiled while grabbing another berry to cut.

“I feel like this bowl hasn’t gotten any fuller, for some reason.”

Your legs were swinging as you sat atop the small kitchen island while looking down at his every movement with the knife. Once he dropped another cut strawberry into the bowl, you scooped it out.

“Just making sure they don’t go bad,” you responded, shrugging.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “The fruit you buy usually goes bad within the minute? Are you getting into a fist fight with it?”

You poked at his hip with your socked foot. “Well, you said you were cutting it for me. So can I eat it or not? I’m getting mixed signals.”

“No, of course you can eat it. I’m just teasing.”

“I don’t do too well with delayed gratification.”

Wonwoo smiled at you, proceeding to remove the last few strawberries from the basket to cleanly dissect their stems. He then turned around, tossing the cutting board and knife into the stainless-steel sink with a clatter. After washing his hands, he was back at the island, noticing that the bowl was now seated in your lap like a bag of movie theatre popcorn with just the perfect amount of butter and salt. For a moment, Wonwoo didn’t say anything—that focused look to your face as you ate the fruit he prepared was much too captivating. He wanted to catch one of your swinging legs, pull you right to the counter’s very edge and have you wrap yourself around him. He wanted everything with you.

In your earlier days together, Wonwoo used to be a lot more evasive about his staring (at least, that’s what he wanted to believe), but now he didn’t feel as required to be so painfully subtle and imperceptible about things. He let you snack until you were satisfied, the empty bowl then being exchanged with a damp rag to clean your fingers.

“So,” clearing his throat, Wonwoo braced his hands against the granite island and glanced at you from behind his glasses, scanning down the unbothered, relatively straight face you had, “everything going okay?”

Pressing your lips together, you nodded, making only an “mhm” sound that didn’t leave much to be interpreted.

Wonwoo saw the hands that plunged swiftly between your thighs, how you were quick to squeeze around them, like there existed something weighted and hidden.

He wanted to leave it up to your discretion—he really did.

“Okay, that’s good… just—uh, he’s not giving you a hard time, right? He’s not bothering you at all?” Wonwoo asked, adjusting the rim of the black beanie he’d thrown on to keep his messy hair tucked back. “I don’t mean to disinter anything. I’m only asking because I—”

“Because you care,” you finished his sentence quietly with a trusting and faint smile, “I know. Thank you. It is hard for me, though… I don’t know why this particular thing is so hard but it is.”

Wonwoo slid his hands together, moving them slow along the cold granite. “No… that’s understandable. I get it plenty.” Hell—he didn’t just get it—Wonwoo had miserably and insufferably lived it for damn near a year at that point. In fact, tomorrow would mark the day that he came home to this same apartment only to discover the interior stripped of all the traces, sentiments, and artifacts that breathed miraculous life into the girl he once thought to be his other half.

A whole fucking year without Jeanie.

How flipped things were. How oddly coincidental that he was now in the same space but with a new person to create everlasting memories. You had the most opposite personality and spark.

Wonwoo sighed. He got close to you, settling his hand atop your knee before gliding it underneath your thigh, gripping at you firmly and pulling you forward until he was bracketed in between your legs. Your response was smitten, and he couldn’t deny that he loved to practically see your heart beating under your chest in addition to sensing the warmth that flourished off your skin like you were sizzling in a pan.

Wonwoo set one hand down on the counter, right next to your hip, while the other tended to the side of your face, his fingers running behind your ear and down the slender path to your silk-smooth neck.

“Look…” he breathed out, finding your eyes that were now a bit watery and tinged with stinging emotion, “I know it’s hard. And I would never rush you into figuring things out… but I like you…” Wonwoo swallowed, letting his thumb play with your earring meanwhile his deep voice triggered the sharp, raised hairs spreading down your arms like an electric current, “I love spending time with you—even just being in the same room as you, getting to stare at you—but I just—when I don’t know what you are to Mingyu, I don’t know what to do with us.”

You drew in an immediate breath, then releasing a quiet laugh mixed with a runny sniffle. “I-It seems like you know…”

He pushed both his hands into the countertop, smiling at you.

“Well, I know what I want to do…” Wonwoo murmured, gazing so intimately into your eyes as the oceans he urged to drown in, “but you have to understand my reservations about it. That’s all.”

Bringing a pinky finger to your mouth to nibble on, you nodded.

Softly, he pinched the bare expanse of your waist. You gasped.

“Because I do, in fact, want you.”

You didn’t say anything, although Wonwoo noted that you were staring back into his gaze with so many hues of simple human emotion pulsating behind your eyes—there was frustration, possibly at yourself and everything you couldn’t yet communicate, and twinkles of impulse that matched rhythm with your heart. Then, employing unforeseen abruptness, your fingers were running down the back of his neck all ticklish and he felt the warmth from your breath feather his lips as you moved in closer, smirking at him, hazy like a sunrise pouring its light through a thick cover of morning fog.

“If you can be patient for just a little longer, you'll have all of me.”

Thankfully (or maybe not so thankfully judging from the pure adrenaline coursing through his veins in a hedonistic, addictive sort of way) there were a few knocks at his door.

Your eyes rolled. “Is that your landlord or something?”

Wonwoo took a step back, letting you slide off the countertop while he adjusted his glasses and brushed down his t-shirt. How were you suddenly so casual? One second you were chewing nervously on your finger with the timidness of a newborn doe and the next—back to your typical self. He watched you approach the door, tilting his head.

“Uh, maybe? She usually texts me, though.”

“Or Seokmin with a batch of chocolate apology brownies.”

He chuckled, folding his arms. “Doubt it.”

Really, Wonwoo had no idea who it could be. It possibly was his landlord who had perhaps forgotten her usual warning text, or maybe his younger, sometimes irresponsible neighbour across the hall who would specifically ask to borrow his scent-free laundry detergent every now and then. As long as it wasn’t Lady Liberty on the other side (in Vernon’s tried and true nicknaming spirit) then Wonwoo had no reason to care.

“Welp,” you made a balmy, popping sound with your lips, “only one way to find out. I think I can smell the chocolate.” But once the door was pulled open, that little joking smile fell from your face concerningly fast, as though someone had plucked it right off.

Fuck—Wonwoo thought right off the cuff—it was Lady Liberty.

Your head quirked ever so slightly. “Uh, hello…”

Whoever the person was, they were just outside the threshold of what Wonwoo could see from his spot in the kitchen—except, now he didn’t think it was Mingyu at all, since your tone seemed more confused than anything else.

For a moment, Wonwoo just stood where he was, not particularly understanding why he couldn’t even twitch a measly finger.

“Hi—I’m sorry, is this the—is this—does Wonwoo still live here?”

From across the room, you shifted him a glance.

There was a heavy pause before you answered.

“… Yeah.”

“O-Oh, well… um… I’m so sorry, but are you living here as well? Is he home? I don’t mean to bother or anything. I guess I came by on a whim. It’s a little hard to explain… I can always come back later.”

At that point, Wonwoo was making his way beside you.

That voice—that delicate wispy voice, lighter than a tuft of cotton adrift through the breeze under a salt blue sky—there was such a familiarity about it that he was getting dizzier by the second. Your jaw was distinctly clenched as Wonwoo stopped at your side.

He took one look into the hallway and damn near fainted.

“What the fuck…” Wonwoo whispered, his mouth suddenly stark of moisture as he lifted a hand to grab the door’s edge, “Jeanie?”

“Uh, hey, Wonwoo.”

Wait—never mind, never mind—he panicked. Maybe he did want it to be Mingyu. In fact, Wonwoo would have anticipated Bohyuk showing up outside his door, or his parents, or his girlfriend of two weeks back in sixth grade who broke up with him over a juice box before he could guess that his ex who disappeared without a trace would be there.

It sounded borderline insane, but Wonwoo almost wanted to poke her just to test if she was even real. She looked real. She sounded real. You didn’t seem to be staring into empty space while side-eyeing him worriedly, rather you had very much acknowledged her. Wonwoo’s grip fastened to the door, then realizing he was using it as a personal crutch to keep him upright as his legs slowly regained their rigidity and strength. He also realized that you likely had no idea who she was until her name had been distantly tugged from his lips by his instincts.

Jeanie splayed out her hands in a demonstration of submission.

“If it’s a bad time, I can come back later…”

Wonwoo noted that you had taken a step away from the door, although you continued to stare at Jeanie with a countenance that refused to spoil much—it seemed inquisitive and curious but still hardened—the moment was probably overwhelming you, too.

He gulped dryly, flicking his eyes back to her. “Uh, well, I wasn’t even—you’re like, the last person I would expect to see and—”

“It’s okay. I’ll leave.”

Jerking back to you, Wonwoo nearly gave himself whiplash.

“Her—you don’t need to—”

But you shook your head.

Grabbing the cream purse off the couch and slipping back into your comfortable, clean white tennis shoes, you seemed eager to go while simultaneously jaded at the circumstances.

“No, don’t worry about it,” you stopped in front of Wonwoo, adjusting the strap wove around your shoulder, “this seems important, so… I don’t want to stand in the way of anything… I’ll see you later, ‘kay?”

Then, you turned to Jeanie, sticking out your hand. “Nice to meet you.”

She looked to Wonwoo for a split second.

“Um, yeah, you as well…” Jeanie eventually accepted the handshake, sounding breathy with nerves, “sorry about all this.”

While making your way to the staircase, Wonwoo quickly stepped into the corridor and waved at you, feeling his chest tighten.

“I’ll call you, okay?”

You flashed a transient smile. He hated watching you leave.

Jeanie was watching you, too, hands politely folded at her abdomen, bunny rabbit teeth digging at the skin of her ruby-stained and calloused lips. She had always been a chronic lip-biter—anxiety, thrill, or stress, Wonwoo vividly remembered the blisters she absentmindedly inflicted unto herself from the bad habit, similar to the scars marking the cuticle of his thumb. After a year Jeanie looked different no doubt, but she also reflected an unchanged image through her conserved, fidgety behaviours. She was shy like a budding flower kept just short of the sun.

“Are you okay if I come in?” Jeanie mumbled, hardly able to maintain eye contact with Wonwoo for no more than a second or two.

He stepped back, beckoning indoors.

“Yeah… that’s fine, I guess.”

“Looks pretty nice in here…” she remarked soft-spokenly, taking a moment to marvel the space she once came home to every day, although she couldn’t seem more like a stranger to the apartment even if she tried—like a magazine cutout slapped onto a novel.

Wonwoo rubbed under his nose. “Well… I make due.”

Her hair used to be a symmetric, blunt length with her chin, but she had clearly grown it out over the months. The black tresses thrived in long and loose ribbons down her back, shinier than sea glass polished by rough waves. She was never one to wear much makeup either—trimming her eyebrows, glossing her lips, and flicking on some mascara was all she really ever cared to do, and Wonwoo remembered being in love with her simplicity.

Jeanie proceeded to walk behind the couch, squeezing the back in her hands. She was so tiny. That hadn’t changed much. He could only stand in one place, keeping still, examining her every movement and fighting against the trillions of voices clawing to his mind’s surface.

“Feels strange to be in here,” she laughed, running her fingers along the couch’s fabric, staring around the space, “I think it definitely has more of your touch now… it was nice to see Saskia again, too.”

“Yeah.”

She stopped on him. “You look well. Healthy.”

Wonwoo squinted at her. “Why are you here?”

He didn’t say it in a rude, impatient way. Genuinely, Wonwoo wasn’t angry with her, not like he might have been a few months ago.

But he was confused and feeling increasingly anxious. You were gone, probably on your way back home, though Wonwoo wished you hadn’t left at all, even if it were to make things sticky and awkward. Your presence in a room was the comfort he badly, painfully missed.

“Sure,” Jeanie cleared her throat, “I’ll explain. Care to sit?”

Together, they nestled onto the couch.

Wonwoo was kept to one end while Jeanie sat more in the middle, pulling at the long, flowy hem of her fern-patterned blue dress.

He tugged at the rim to his beanie, waiting for her to speak.

The girl gripped onto her knees, poised a soft, gentle look in his direction while taking in a breath. Their nerves seemed to be coalescing like different colours bleeding from freshly soaked paintbrushes. If anxiety were personified into butterflies, the room would start fluttering.

“I guess I thought it was time. Taking a shot in the dark, I know. I didn’t know if you would still be here, but I got lucky…” she clutched at her dress, fingers pulling into the airy material. “Wonwoo, it’s not like I don’t think about you, or wonder about you. I know what I did, how much it hurt… then I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to come back to here, with you. But I processed it all and it became an itch I had to scratch.”

Puffing out through his nose, Wonwoo almost laughed.

“Yeah—you wanted to see if I, what? Threw myself off the building or persevered, becoming some big money writer?”

Jeanie blinked at him a few times, furrowing her neat, straight brow, with every hair gelled down perfectly in place.

Wonwoo shook his head, lifting out his hand.

“Okay, my bad. That sounded like such an asshole thing to say.”

“No, it’s okay. I get it.” Her cheeks flooded with a tide of rosy pink as she chuckled. “I-I just… well, you seem different now.”

He pushed up his glasses. “You think?”

“Yeah.”

“In a good or bad way?”

Jeanie clasped her hands together, thumbs tapping.

“Well, I guess you seem more... upfront, not as prevaricating. Maybe that’s how you’ve always been and I just never really saw it or you picked it up from someone else.”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Probably a bit of both.”

“I am sorry. I know it was all so… sudden. I know this is sudden. I thought about calling... my hands would just shake so much whenever I picked up the phone, getting all sweaty and stuff. It felt like something that I had to just do. And, well, once I was back in the area, I didn’t even want to lend myself time to dwell. I only came in yesterday.”

“You went back home, then?”

“I did.”

“I figured… well, I got the hint pretty clear when your mom sent me that email. It was only a sentence or two long, but it hurt like hell.”

“It’s what I asked her to send. It’s all I felt you needed to know.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

Jeanie sighed, “I feel warranted in what I did… even so, I-I think I owe you an apology. Because, well, you were and still are someone I regard highly. You were going through something pretty serious… I mean, it’s obvious you’re taking such better care of yourself.”

“It definitely hasn’t been linear.”

Tucking some hair behind her ear, the girl smiled. “Well, what in life really is? It only feels that way when you’re going straight down.”

He hmphed, thinking. “… Yeah. Really though, don’t worry about it. An apology isn’t necessary. You’ve always been too gracious.”

“I-I guess… but, I think it is, since—”

“Jeanie, c’mon. It’s really not. I was dragging you down.”

“Wonwoo, I feel like—”

“I’m telling you—”

“Well, I’m telling you and it would mean a lot if you just let me speak and get this off my chest. Please. Then you can have the floor. Tell me to package it all back up. Whatever it is you have to say. But I spent our entire relationship just listening and trying to understand you and interpret all your vague signals when I should have been trying to understand myself, and what I wanted. I’m not the verbose type, I know that. Going off on longwinded tangents about my feelings has never been something that suits me but I’m here now and I owe it to the girl who just sucked it all up, all the time, trying to be this perfect girlfriend for you.”

He managed a long, introspective breath.

Fuck—he really did owe her that. He owed her so much more.

“… Okay,” Wonwoo nodded complicity, “you’re right.”

“Leaving was the very last thing I wanted. I swear it. I agonized over the choice every day. But you didn’t even notice. That’s when I knew it was more than bad, and whatever it was you were going through was just pulling you down so deep, like a whirlpool. It’s like… I would talk to you, and there was no one inside. When I felt like you needed space, I gave you space. When I felt like you had something hard to say, I would sit with you all day, trying to ease it out, waiting for you to say it.

When you seemed so angry at yourself and everything around you—I-I don’t know—I tried to be the best thing for you. But I was hitting wall after wall. Sometimes I wonder how much of it was my fault. If I had just been upfront about my feelings then maybe things would have been… well, you know, different. I guess I never did say much because it seemed like the last thing you needed to hear, like I would be adding to your already massive collection of burdens. You have to understand, I felt trapped, Wonwoo. Like I was in a glass box or something.

I was decaying from the inside out. If I didn’t leave, if I didn’t make that split second decision to phone up my mom and tell her everything that morning you left for work—then maybe we would have gotten even worse. Maybe we would have just drowned. I don’t know. I’m… glad, relieved, happier than ever, that I don’t know what might have happened. And now that it seems we’re both… whole… I feel like an apology is just a way for me to say that if I had the steel to speak for the both of us, maybe we could have spared so much pain in between.”

Jeanie’s doe eyes twinkled with tears. “I thought that being apart might heal us both… I-I did it ‘cause—in essence—I did it because I cared, Wonwoo. About you. So deeply. But I also needed to start caring about myself, too.”

The corners of his mouth flitted in an unbridled smile toward the girl, his gaze admiring how the evening sunlight warmed up her cool-toned skin and shimmered through her strong, healthy hair.

“I know,” Wonwoo finally answered. “I’ve known for a while.”

Jeanie stayed for about an hour longer, until the sky started darkening. Together, they filled each other in on the breakages in each other’s distant lives, like a spider reweaving a gash through its cobweb. He was pleased to learn that she was doing quite well for herself—now moved out from her family house and living with her younger sister, Jeanie held true to pursuing her ambition of managing the library she had always adored coming to during her childhood (he remembered it specifically as “the one with the bean bag corner and the giant toy crate with the giraffe.”)

Wonwoo felt he didn’t have much to say regarding himself, however, he had plenty to say about you.

Rubbing at a strand of her hair, Jeanie nodded. “Yeah, I remember Her. She—like—she did scare me a bit… I don’t know—she really seemed to know what she was doing. I was a little envious of that. And she had really great style. She could pull anything off. She came in looking for a textbook one time, but I made my co-worker help her instead. I think I was too nervous to talk to her.”

Wonwoo had his legs stretched out onto the coffee table, hands settled on his stomach. Itching at his eyebrow, he smiled. “I probably would have done the same, back then. Honestly though, she’s nothing like what she seems. I can promise you that.”

Jeanie was quiet for a moment, adjusting the legs tucked up underneath herself. “So… you two are… you’re dating?”

“No… it’s weird. I wish.”

“I recognized her when she opened the door. I was pretty confused since… of all the people that you could have over… she seemed like the most unlikely candidate. I-I mean, I’m not saying that you could never—I’m not saying that it could never happen—”

He tilted his head at Jeanie, grinning slyly. “No, just say it. You didn’t imagine I’d ever even be able to talk to someone like her.”

The girl’s face flushed. “Well, you’re quite the opposites.”

“In some ways.”

“I don’t think she’d like me.”

Wonwoo pursed his lip in disagreement. “That’s not true. To be fair, you’ve ever only got to see one side of her. She’s trying to figure shit out just as much as we are. You never really stop, I suppose.”

He felt Jeanie’s gaze still on him for a few seconds, her mouth twitching into a delicate, sincere smile made brighter by her eyes. “So… you figure she’d like me? Even if she knew all the details about us? How rough it all was?”

Wonwoo crossed his arms, staring back toward her confidently. “I figure she’d probably like you more than me, actually.”

8:28 pm

“Hey, thanks for picking up.”

“Oh, no big deal. You called me at a good time. I was just about to start my skincare and I would have needed to sit for fifteen minutes doing absolutely nothing in a slimy face mask.”

“Sounds fun.”

“I’m guessing your conversation is over and done with.”

“Yeah. She only left like, five minutes ago.”

“And you didn’t want to sit alone in your bedroom contemplating the universe for an additional hour with all the blinds drawn? Woah. Wonwoo, I am impressed. Finger snaps.”

“Finger snaps.”

“So… am I allowed to know how the whole thing went or did you just call me to hear the sound of my voice?”

“Both. But mostly to hear your voice.”

“Okay. Enlighten me then.”

9:45 pm

“Anyway… yeah. The conversation went well. I still can’t believe she actually came back to see me. Like, what a mindfuck, you know?”

“That took a lot of courage from her part.”

“Yeah, it did. Makes me proud, though. To hear her actually speak her mind. She really was just trying to be the best possible person for me and the only thing that got her is heartbreak. She’s putting herself first, now. She’s spending a couple days in the city with her sister.”

“… Do you think that you’ll want to see her again?”

“I don’t know. Do I need to?”

“Do you?”

“No. I mean, don’t get me wrong, as much as it was a shock to see her again, there was great closure in it. If she had come to see me way sooner, no way would I have been open to it—I probably would have freaked the fuck out and had an anxiety attack or some shit—but I feel way better about everything now. I felt like I understood her choices, kinda like I was the one making them... but, you know, we’re evolved people at this point. We’ve veered onto two separate paths, neither one being greater than or less than the other… just different.”

“Right.”

“We just wished each other well.”

“No, that’s great. You put a bow on it. I just didn’t really know what the whole thing was gonna entail… so, yeah, I had gotten kinda worried… like—once I knew it was her—I thought she looked so perfect for you. You two just made immediate sense in my mind. She’s got such a sweet voice, and the kind, shy personality that everyone always adores. I think if you stuck her in a room with me, she’d hate my guts.”

“Ha—Jeanie hates no one’s guts. She’s got no room in her heart for that kind of stuff. You two are different for sure, but I think that’s what would make you interesting and attractive to each other.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. If it makes you feel any better, she didn’t think you’d like her either. But I told her you’d probably like her more than me.”

“What! She actually thought that? I mean, maybe I seemed a little damp when I left, but that was just my mind on overdrive.”

“Need me to arrange a date between you two?”

“Ha—she did have a great perfume on. Maybe ask about that.”

“Well, I will if I see her.”

“She doesn’t know about the book you were writing for her, does she? I can’t believe that’s been sitting on your laptop all this time.”

“No, she doesn’t. I used to sit there and stare at it every day, but I don’t think I’ve even opened the damn document in months… since I met you, my mind has gradually moved away from it, I guess. I think now it’s more of an effort thing. All the time I put into it. It’s like, if I delete it, I’m deleting that time from my life… does that even make sense?”

“Yeah, I know what you’re saying.”

“… Did you ever finish your book for Mingyu? I know you wanted it done before your anniversary in December. It seemed like you were on track to have it done quite early, with all that time you gave yourself.”

“I did finish it, actually.”

“No fucking way—that’s a big accomplishment.”

“Yeah. Now I’ve just gotta decide what to do with it.”

—NOVEMBER 3RD.

Wonwoo was fairly surprised that Princess had invited him to her birthday dinner at Terra Cotta. At one point, he wasn’t certain where he stood with your closest friend, even if his relationship with her presented itself as amicable on the surface—he always thought that maybe deep down, Princess really did despise him. Then Wonwoo wondered if you had nipped at the birthday girl into inviting him, although that didn’t seem like something in your character.

Through all his fretting, thumb-scraping, and late-night pondering in the shower, Wonwoo eventually came to the conclusion that was probably the simplest and most accurate: Princess just liked him.

A call from Vernon came through right as Wonwoo was getting into bed last week, to which the rambling boy had impetuously thrown out, “yeah, I got an invite to Her’s best friend’s birthday dinner or somethin’ like that—what was her name again? Penelope? The sexy dark skin girl with the braids? Anyway, I told her I’d love to go, but I’m gonna be out of town for a few days in November. Said I could hook her up with a couple MDMA bombs, though. Y’know, as a gift.”

Thus, that concluded the story of Wonwoo having to sit at a rather large and reserved candlelit table in an expensive, esteemed restaurant, surrounded by some friends and strangers alike, with a plastic baggie of hard drugs shoved into his pants pocket that he couldn’t stop worrying about. Vernon had wanted him to leave it with Princess when appropriate. Most people invited were going to the club later in the night—Room 319—which he figured could only be survived by going buckwild off ecstasy. As his knee continued to ricochet underneath the tablecloth, Wonwoo was soothed by your hand sliding over his thigh.

You gave him a solicitous glance, smiling with care. “Why don’t I just put it in my purse?” The offer was whispered amongst the conversation.

Wonwoo couldn’t help but flit his eyes around the table, ensuring no one was giving his general direction a lick of attention. The waiters and waitresses would pop from the blue every now and then with bottles that seemed glued to their hands, scouring for anyone who needed a top up on alcohol. His glass had been seldom touched for the past half-hour.

He sighed, shaking his head. “No, it’s fine.”

“Wonwoo,” you deadpanned at him.

“It’s fine.”

“Oh my God—just give me it. It’ll take me two seconds to dig it out from your pocket and shove it in my damn purse. Besides, I can’t enjoy myself when the anxiety is emanating off you in waves.”

His knee immediately stopped jerking. Wonwoo looked you straight in the eyes, the stiffness turning him into straw. “Is it really?”

“Yes!” You laughed quietly, your head hunkering down on his shoulder for a brief moment. “Now, give me it please. Pretty please.”

Sliding a hand into the smooth pocket on his pants, Wonwoo began fishing out the small plastic baggie while puffing, “fuck—alright.”

“Gosh,” he heard you mumble while discreetly taking the capsules from him, rustling them into your purse, “you could never be a drug dealer, could you? How are you even friends with Vernon? That dude probably walks around with sample sizes taped to his jacket.”

“It’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo was finally able to roll out his shoulders and relax—even give you a humorous little smirk, “I have a way better chance of escaping the drug dogs than he does. I’ll get a nice head start.”

His thigh was met with a slap before your hand pulled away. “I’m acting like I don’t know either of you.”

To be fair, Wonwoo couldn’t picture his bad-mouthed, fairly uncouth friend in a snotty establishment like Terra Cotta, especially considering his ideal places to eat were twenty-four-hour diners and cereal pantries belonging to girls whom he’d just slept with. The restaurant was no doubt beautiful, though it was definitely for the upper echelons who could not only afford it, but also act the pleasant, opulent guise.

At least the table that Princess reserved was a bit more separated from the other tables in the restaurant—it was close to a waterfall built into the wall, encompassed by all sorts of burnish-looking smooth stones.

Neither Seokmin or Mingyu were at the dinner—two absences that no one seemed to be questioning. To Wonwoo, that was a gigantic relief—he assumed you felt the same. Clara was there, seated further down the table, but Bells wasn’t. Seungcheol was an obvious guest, and besides you, he was the person that Wonwoo had spoken to the most since arriving at the restaurant—he’d even given Wonwoo the slip on his secret gift for his girlfriend, which was a two-week vacation to the Bahamas after the winter exam season.

Wonwoo was a little jealous.

He would love for you and him to vacation somewhere.

Maybe even take you back to South Korea.

“So, you guys,” Princess had started a conversation with you and Wonwoo from across the table, hands folded underneath her chin while she smiled kindly between you, “think you’ll come to the club after?”

You pouted at her, “we’re passing, babe. A million sorries.”

“Awe, that’s okay.” She reached across the pristine tablecloth to lay her hand over top yours. “You already took me out for my birthday, anyway. And let me vomit in your washroom for two hours.”

“Mmhm. You’d do the same for me.”

Princess giggled, her grin luminous and wholly genuine. “Oh, of course. I have already done it!”

“Well, you’ll have to tell me all about Room 319. The stories I’ve heard about that place—sounds like some shit from a movie.”

“Trust me, you’ll get the entire script in a bound book. I know the club thing isn’t for everyone—that’s why I did the dinner. And I’m doing cupcakes instead of cake! Remember those red velvet cupcakes we had that one night? And then that other night? Fuck—I couldn’t stop thinking about those damn things.”

“Oh, those were fucking delicious.”

“De-licious. Have you ever got to try one, Wonwoo?”

He swallowed, a bit jarred to be welcomed into their conversation that he had been happily listening to from the sidelines.

“I tried one. I liked it.”

Princess gasped at him. “Only liked? Be serious!”

“Well, ask me again later tonight. I wasn’t having it fresh.”

“I will be asking. How’s Vernon? I’m sad he couldn’t make it.”

“Oh, he’s fine. Sometimes he just mysteriously disappears from town for a couple days—I don’t ask because I don’t want to know. But, uh, he did leave me with a gift for you… if you didn’t already know.”

“Oh… oh! Right!” Princess straightened up, nodding. “Yeah, I remember. You can give it to me when we leave. Outside.”

“I have it actually,” you clarified, flickering a transient look at the tiny purse you had moved onto the table, “when we take a girl’s trip to the washroom, you can have it. The dose is pretty high. I know I don’t have to worry about you and this stuff, but be careful, y’know?”

“Of course. Just make sure you hide the purse in your lap when the waiter comes back. They love offering to take bags and satchels and all that stuff to hang in the coat room.” After clearing her throat with a sip from her pink, frothy champagne, Princess curiously poked at you two. “So, how do you guys plan to spend the rest of your night?”

Wonwoo opted not to speak.

You grabbed your wine glass, swirling the aromatic alcohol around inside while shrugging. “Not sure. It’s chilly out. Hope you don’t freeze your tits off standing outside in the mile long line for the club.”

“That’s what this push-up is for. The padding’s so toasty warm.”

Laughing with Princess, you ended up snorting.

Seungcheol, who was sat beside his girlfriend and had been occupied in speaking to a friend Wonwoo forgot the name of, finally parted from his conversation, turning his head at the last second to hear the giggling.

“Push-up? What are you guys talking about?”

You shook your head. “Nothing—just her bra.”

“Oh,” Seungcheol mumbled, “what about her bra?”

Princess smiled. “Just that with all this padding it’s got, it’ll keep me nice and warm when I’m waiting outside. Perfectly insulated.”

Rubbing a thumb and index finger along his jaw, Seungcheol grinned all relaxed-like while Princess rolled her dark brown eyes at his comment, the gold accents in her inner corners glimmering.

“I bet my hands would be a lot more efficient. Nothing warmer than skin on skin as they say.”

She shoved his shoulder half-heartedly. “Who says that? Now, bedroom eyes away before I make you wear a bag over your head.”

“I don’t see a bag here.”

“As the birthday girl, I’m pretty sure I can request one.”

The dinner officially wrapped up around ten at night. Wonwoo was able to reaffirm with Princess that the red velvet cupcakes were indeed moist and delicious. As everyone stood right outside the restaurant in the nippy, cold November weather, giving hugs and farewells to those who weren’t clubbing, he made sure to wish Princess probably the twentieth happy birthday she’d heard that night. He waited for you to give her another speech about staying safe but still having fun, sprinkled with lots of “I love you’s” and inside jokes that Wonwoo wondered if he would ever understand, before you two left on your own.

Each time he spoke, his breath would come to life in a warm wisp from his mouth, meanwhile the streets lights reflected in the melted snow all over the sidewalk he aimlessly wandered down, with you sticking close to his side. It hadn’t been a heavy snow, at least.

“Be honest,” you said, glancing toward Wonwoo, “how relieved are you that we’re not going to the club? On a scale of one to ten.”

“Is ten the most relieved?”

“Yeah.”

He looked at you, completely unabashed. “Ten.”

Kissing your teeth, you nodded. “That’s what I expected.”

“So,” Wonwoo hummed, stopping beside you at the intersection while waiting for the crosswalk light to change, “what now?”

Your eyebrows raised. “Still want to do something?”

As the cars whipped past, throwing up brisk winds and exhaust into the twinkling city atmosphere, Wonwoo shrugged. “The night is young.”

“What's on your mind?”

“We’re not far from Centertown. It’s maybe a fifteen-minute walk or so at this point. There’s a bar there I want to try. The Honeymoon.”

He was glad you didn’t seem opposed.

“Sure. I’m down.”

Once the crosswalk was open and the floods of people started pressing forward, there was somebody who passed them—somebody who almost went completely unnoticed by Wonwoo until his memory reloaded and he suddenly found himself pausing to observe over his shoulder.

You pulled at his sleeve. “What?”

“Uh, nothing,” Wonwoo replied, wetting his dry lips while heeding your polite tug, “the woman that passed us—she’s dressed exactly like this prostitute that Vernon told me he saw last winter, hanging outside Room 319. She has the heels and everything.”

“What the fuck. Really?”

“Mmhm,” he laughed, “he called her Pink Heels Lady. To be honest, I thought he was lying… but I’m pretty sure that was her.”

“Spooky. Coincidence or fate, do you think?”

Wonwoo glanced at you, seeing the intrigued smile on your face.

“I don’t know, actually,” he responded after the question hovered around in his mind for an oddly long second, deciding to pick up your hand in is, “I assume it’s just the universe working its magic.”

Wonwoo was never particularly into bars, although he could tolerate them much more than a club despite their parallels. The seedy lighting, deafening music, and signature throw-up gutter in the street or alleyway right outside the building was crucial to both, he had realized.

The Honeymoon was a newer bar that had garnered some notable buzz. It was less like a pub, being slightly more formal with a touch of modernity that had landed it just below presumptuous, in Wonwoo’s opinion. At least the music wasn’t overbearing, nor was there intoxicated, flush-faced men hollering at sports teams on televisions that would never hear them. You decided to sit at the counter, sliding onto the heightened chairs and leaving your jackets draped over the low backs.

You bristled, shaking out your shoulders. “I’m cold.”

Wonwoo cupped his hands overtop your icy cheeks for a moment, allowing some of his warmth to seep into your skin.

“A drink will fix that right up.”

“How are your hands hotter than mine? You’re always freezing.”

He smiled at you, letting you have your face back. “I can warm them up at will to your benefit.” Wonwoo joked, bumping his knee against yours. “What do you think of the place?”

Your lip pursed as you glanced around, examining the bartenders filling up glasses with their silvery, shiny spouts, and then over your shoulder at the numerous other tables occupied by the city’s strangers. For a frigid November night, it was quite full.

“It’s nice. The lighting is pretty. Reminds me of Alley Cat.”

“Oh, yeah. Vernon took me there once to celebrate my exams being done, then he got into a fist fight with this university student over something I can’t remember—smashed a glass on the dude’s head.”

Predictably, your eyes rolled. “Only Vernon is getting into fist fights at Alley Cat.”

Wonwoo chuckled. “Well, now he can’t get into fist fights there at all—management banned him and the other guy. Apparently, they’ve got this back wall of people who’ve been kicked out and he’s on there.”

“Figures,” you sighed.

“Oh my gosh! Wonwoo? It’s you!”

At the sound of his name being excitedly called, Wonwoo was soon met with the surprised but cheerful expression coloured to Sierra’s freckled face. He hadn’t forgotten that she worked there, but he was clueless about her schedule. She looked very pretty, glowing in a halo almost, with her coarse, reddish-brown hair pulled back slick into a ponytail and a crisp, clean black uniform tailored to fit her perfectly.

Wonwoo grinned. “Hey there. I didn’t know you worked tonight.”

Sierra set one hand onto the lacquered wood counter while the other stuck to her hip. “I don’t usually. Fridays are game nights with my little sister. But there was a call-in. A little extra cash never hurt.” The girl’s big, round eyes then flitted to you. “Her, right? I don’t think we’ve ever met formally. I know you’re one smart cookie, though.”

“I’d like to think so,” you answered, smiling back at Sierra, “you were at the party, weren’t you? The one Seungcheol threw this summer?”

She nodded, “I was. I made a few drinks here and there.”

“I never got to taste one,” you frowned, pouting.

Throwing up her hands, Sierra was quick to exclaim with her typical charisma and sugar sweetness, “what! Preposterous! I think I’m pretty wicked at it. What are you thinking of having?”

“To be honest, I’m not looking for anything too fancy at the moment. In fifteen minutes from now, I won’t be able to promise the same. I’d like to start off with a rum and coke, if that’s alright. For now.”

Sierra grinned. “No, that’s perfect. What about you, Wonwoo?”

He shrugged. “I’ll have the same. For now.”

“Well, for now, I’ll start you guys off with two rum and cokes.”

Leaning his elbows onto the countertop, he threw her a question.

“How’s it going with Carmen?”

While she prepared the drinks, Sierra blossomed into a smile. “Oh, it’s going great. She’s genuinely a blast. We’re going to the movies next week—that horror one is coming out, about the swimming pool—we think it’s gonna suck but that’s what makes it fun.”

Once Sierra slid you the cold glass, you tilted your head at her while fixing your lips around the black straw. “Who’s Carmen?”

“My girlfriend.” Sierra answered. “We met here, actually.”

“Ugh, no way,” you swooned, pressing a cheek into your hand as the next drink was given to Wonwoo, “that’s so fucking adorable. Does she ever tell you how beautiful you look in that all-black uniform?”

Giggling, Sierra wiped down the countertop and flushed. “I’ve heard it many times. It’s honestly just a t-shirt and slacks!”

“Well, you’re making it work.”

“Please—my face is heating up! You’ve got quite the gorgeous dress on yourself, you know. I always wonder where you get all your clothes. Wonwoo, have you complimented her yet, tonight?”

Mixing the ice cubes together to hear the satisfying clinks using his straw, he answered easily. “It was the first thing out of my mouth.”

Sierra nodded in satisfaction. “Good! Well, I won’t hover. But if you need any refills or have any questions, you can try to flag me down—or ask Jamie! She’s just down there. She’s great at martinis. Later!”

Once Sierra had left to busy herself with tending to others waiting service at the counter, you looked to Wonwoo, lips downturned.

“Jeez, she’s so freaking nice. How come I don’t have that kind of natural charm? Not that I’m not charming. But hers is so… magnetic.”

“Everyone’s got their natural quirks.”

“Yeah, well, my natural quirk is that I’m probably going to down this in the next two minutes. And then have three more after that.”

Wonwoo rubbed a hand to your shoulder, smirking into the glass that he raised to his mouth. “Just focus on the one you have now.”

3 more rum and cokes (+ 1 martini) later.

“No, no—but then, it gets even worse! Because not only had she been lying straight to his face the entire time, so was his best friend! They were seeing each other for weeks and weeks—he had no idea. What gave it away though, was the perfume. He was always telling her not to wear heavy perfumes and stuff because it will leave a scent on the sheets, but she messed up—so they freaked it, she spends the night, and then the next day when he’s over, he goes into his friend’s room looking for a charger and smells the perfume on the sheets! He puts it together! And then, and then—”

You paused, picking up the wide-mouthed martini glass to take a sip in the midst of your long-winded and passionate adultery story that Wonwoo had been struggling to follow for the past blurred time interval, the names now completely lost on his ears. There was hardly anything left in your glass, which led to your frustrated grumble, followed by an attempt to flag down the bartender, Jamie.

However, Wonwoo swiftly caught your hand despite his own impaired state, lowering it back to the countertop.

“Okay, I think that’s enough.” He pushed forward the cup of water he requested for you. “The least you can be right now is hydrated.”

Although you weren’t happy about his thwarting, you did yield to the advice and drink some of the water. Wonwoo knew he should probably have some himself after his own splurge on the bar’s pricy concoctions, but he still felt that he was holding up quite well. Before Jamie could whisk by again, he made sure to ask for another cup.

“So, what happened next?” Wonwoo nudged your elbow while you stared off cluelessly, urging you to continue the story.

“What?”

“He smells her perfume on the bedsheets. Now what?”

However, you were suddenly slumping forward, forehead nestled into your hands. For a moment, you stayed like that without word, until Wonwoo couldn’t help his concern and touched at your bare shoulder.

“Not feeling well?”

You shook your head, whining out, “no, no. It’s not that.”

He frowned, scooting to the edge of his chair and securing his arm across your shoulders. His voice was softer and closer against your warm cheek as he attempted to gauge that sour, twisted expression past your concealing hands, wanting to understand your hiding.

“Well, am I allowed to know what’s bothering you?”

Again, you remained silent, biting your lip. There was such tenseness in your body that he could simply feel with just his arm.

Wonwoo leaned back, instead tugging at your wrist. “Can I at least see your face? Please?” You didn’t budge. “Her, you’re worrying me a bit, here. Do you need me take you home—”

“Okay, I have something to tell you.” Breaking abruptly from your husk, you were now staring straight and square at Wonwoo with distinct inebriation cloudy in your eyes, although there was something else too that compelled Wonwoo to bite his tongue and listen. “Honestly, I think I’ve held onto this long enough. And, I’ve wanted to confess this to you for a while now, but there was just so much debris in my life that I needed to sort through first. But you’re beyond important to me, and I just think that it’s time you finally know… so, can I tell you?”

“Um…”

Wonwoo’s throat was suddenly bone-dry and his pulse had spiked to the point where he could feel a vein along his neck start throbbing—he even pondered waving down the bartender for another drink to pacify his growing nerves.

Ultimately, Wonwoo wouldn’t last that long. Pushing up his glasses, he nodded, noting that you hadn’t blinked once while you waited.

“Sure. Tell me.”

Your upper lip twitched.

“Mingyu’s been cheating on me, for two years.”

Wonwoo was quick to feel all his awareness become dull and drowned. He hardly registered his elbow shifting across the countertop, almost knocking over the glass of water onto the floor, nor did he realize the manner in which his mouth had subtly dropped open. You continued to stare at him with intensity, likely studying every tweak and fidget in his body language before swallowing deeply and choosing to continue the revelation.

He tightened up his jaw, trying to seem firm.

You looked ashamed of yourself as you admitted, “it’s been going on for two years, and I’ve known for about a year.”

“Really?” He answered, sounding mystified. “An entire year?”

“Give or take.”

Then, Wonwoo was shaking his head. His fist had clenched up tight, though it wasn’t the usual automated response that accompanied his anxiety—he found there was immediate distaste and anger swirling together like storm clouds in the pit of his stomach.

Your gaze was cast to the water glass on the countertop, which you moved away for no apparent reason, your expression emptied.

After a frail sigh, you continued, “do you remember that day I came into creative writing and got super upset at that guy for sitting in my seat? Remember how we talked about it at the nature museum, and I told you that I had a fight with Mingyu before going to class?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, that day, I tried bringing it up to him. And it totally didn’t go over how I thought it would. Mingyu denied it all… of course, I only had some vague but suspicious texts to go off of, which he explained his way out of pretty poorly. But I just accepted it for the sake of our relationship. And I never brought it up again until… you know.”

Wonwoo let a natural, stagnant silence fall in between you, meanwhile the encompassing atmosphere was kept flowing by the various conversations of those around you—seemingly happy—with plenty to drink as they kept warm from the bitter cold just outside.

He was biting his tongue, though he couldn’t hold the question any longer, piquing his, “do you know who he was cheating with?”

A huff shot straight through your nose.

“I know…” you mumbled, “and you know her, too.”

Suddenly, a name popped to his mouth without thought.

“Bells.”

When you didn’t confirm nor deny, opting to stare off to the side to conceal the emotion springing forth, Wonwoo knew it was solid truth.

“Fuck…” he cursed, grazing his hand across the smooth leg that was folded over your knee, “I’m so sorry… I’m at a loss for words.”

You could only sigh while a glossy film developed in your eyes.

“I mean, I’ve been through all the stages already—grief, denial, acceptance—whatever the other ones are—so I don’t know why I’m still getting so choked up about it. I obviously didn’t want to believe it… I mean, who the fuck does? Especially when you truly do have feelings for that person.” Shaking your head and sniffling, you exasperatedly flicked out a hand. “Her and her stupid sparkles. That was when I really started putting it together. Oh, I’m going out to play poker, babe! And the next day, I’m wearing his sweater, and I realize there’s these fucking little bits of glitter on it, inside it—it was like a fucking beacon that was just screaming at me—hey! Your asshole boyfriend is cheating!”

That was something Wonwoo had noticed himself, after Bells had bumped into him at the party—the girl’s adoration for sparkly clothing and makeup essentially left behind a glaring trail of glimmery breadcrumbs. Wonwoo had found them on his clothes once he took them off and could really see the fabric underneath the light. The confession suddenly painted your actions that night in a new colour.

Rubbing against your temple, you explained further despite the struggle to speak over that clogged sound coming from your throat.

“It’s not like I’m stupid, either, even if right now, in this situation, I seem like it. I know what Bells is like… she’s spoiled rotten—always has been—and is used to getting whatever the fuck she wants. But, you see, that’s the thing! That’s the fucking thing! Seokmin, Clara, Bells, even Princess—I only met them because of the webs my parents have in their business world. I was never really allowed to find my own friends. It really just shows how much they had a say in my life… don’t misconstrue, I truly do love Princess and she’s by far the most normal, grounded person amongst them. She actually listens, and cares. But I was only allowed to befriend her ‘cause my parents know her parents.

Mingyu seemed like the one person I was actually able to connect with on my own… but he’s honestly changed so much. It’s like, my parents were able to get their little fangs in him and warp him. And now… I really don’t think he loves me at all… I think he loves my image, and what I represent, and the opportunities that come with me… but, I don’t think he actually, genuinely loves me like he used to... like, back then, he was so, so sweet. He was always fumbling over himself, nervous, trying his best. I mean, you've read about it! He used to want to be an architect, Wonwoo. A freaking architect! He sketched all the time. He has a closet drawer full of sketch books from when he was younger. But everything's different now. He doesn't care. He hates when I bring it up! He hates me!

And I don’t just think—I know it, Wonwoo. He resents me, but he won’t let go. Instead, he just sucks the life out of me, like he’s trying to get me to hate myself, too. And I do. I guess, as long as I hate myself, it makes me perfect in their eyes. I’ll just keep letting them mould me until I feel complete.”

Wonwoo didn’t know what to do.

Hell, he didn’t even know what to say except for the fact that you were right—as long as you always felt subpar, or lacking, or frustrated with your drought of true identity, it would lead you back to the reliance you had on the deceptive characters in your life—it was nothing but a miserable cycle designed to bog you down and snuff you out. At least your tearful eyes had dried up.

You looked at him fondly, with a gentle smile. “That’s what I like so much about you… even if you didn’t intend to—which I know you didn’t, judging from what I’ve heard about you trying to avoid writing with me—” (he bit his inner cheek coyly, casting a somewhat anxious hand through his hair), “—you helped me realize parts of myself that were always there, but only needed some nurturing. You actually encouraged me. Supported me. And—okay—I know I said that I hate myself—but since I’ve met you, I’ve been replacing it with an understanding of my situation. I’ve been kinder. I’ve been more of myself. I like to think what we have is a sort of symbiosis.”

Wonwoo nodded. “I think you’re right.”

“Do you think that I’m… stupid… for staying?”

Immediately, Wonwoo’s face furled in disagreement. “No, no. Absolutely not. Mingyu’s been with you for so long. He has an integral quality in your life. It would be difficult to uproot yourself just like that. No one’s a better judge of that situation than you.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

As you relaxed back into the bar chair, Wonwoo could practically see this heavy, dark mist levitate from you and dissipate into the air. He knew that feeling of relief and inner freedom very well, and there was almost nothing that could compare to it.

Wonwoo then sipped from his glass of water, continuing to watch the stiffness melt off you like ebbing spring snow. "So, what was his response like? To your accusations? Was he at least honest?"

"Yeah, I got it all out of him eventually," you revealed with a very cumbersome sigh. "But he was deflecting like crazy... I'd never seen him like that before... he was fumbling his words all over, like he used to when we were first dating. But it was different. It wasn't nerves, it was just blind anger. He said I was no better. I mean, he's convinced we've had sex, and he wouldn't accept my denial, no matter what."

"It's not black and white," Wonwoo said, squeezing your arm, "it seems to me like a natural consequence. You felt trapped and alone."

For a split second, Jeanie flashed in his mind. A sear of guilt snapped through him. Mingyu would have much reflecting to do.

Nodding your head, you looked to Wonwoo and graced him with the words he may or may not have been waiting months to hear: "it's all over now—Mingyu and I—I made that extremely clear. And I honestly don't care what anyone else has to say. My mom didn't want to believe it... she's been acting strange since. I don't blame her."

In response, he merely nodded, warming you up with his gentle eyes.

But then he was shifting forward in his seat, elbows settled to the counter. Although it was quite late and he felt exhausted from drinking, his curiosity about a particular matter was still sharp.

“So… I’m wondering… what's your reason for writing the book?”

You gulped. “I wanted a way of looking back on everything. Seeing if maybe I could find myself somewhere amongst all those memories. Maybe when I started losing Mingyu was when I started losing myself. Maybe that's when I realized I was losing myself. Maybe that's when I realized I never really knew myself to begin with.”

He shrugged, his face colouring with admiration for you.

“Well... have you found something?”

Your only means of response was a twinkle-eyed grin.

The walk back to your apartment wasn’t as dreadful as Wonwoo anticipated, mostly attributed to the alcohol soaking up in your stomachs, keeping your blood warm even in the face of a tough, harsh wind. Back when it wasn’t so late in the night and his lips had yet to touch his first rum and coke, Wonwoo thought he would take himself home after seeing you off first. But now it was almost midnight, and he had this impending feeling of vertigo while he walked, and he was therefore very limp to fight the offer that involved a comfortable stay at your place until morning.

Wonwoo wasn’t exactly sure where he deposited his coat or his shoes, or even his phone—instead he found himself sitting at the end of your bed, listening to the muffled sound of a running sink behind a closed door as you were busy in the washroom.

He leaned over, removing the glasses already slid down his nose and rubbing a palm into his eye until stars traversed the length of his vision. So, Lady Liberty was a cheater. For the past two years. It did bring Wonwoo to wonder what else Mingyu had said during your argument. Did he ever give a reason for cheating? Did he feel boxed into a life that wasn't the enriching utopia he surmised it might be, but he was toughing it out for the sake of success? Was he cheating because he was mad at you or mad at himself?

Or was he honestly just an asshole?

The Mingyu he was familiar with was shifty, and hardened, and image-obsessed, and now Wonwoo knew for a fact he wasn’t delusional for feeling the tension between you and him whenever you were together. God—he could practically cut all the thickness in the air using Seokmin’s nose and serve it like pieces of cake. But Mingyu hadn't always been like that according to your allegories. Deep down there could still be traces of the man you fell in love with, flickering like shiny little minnows beneath murky, clouded water.

But it was too late now.

Fitting his glasses back on, Wonwoo rolled back the sleeves to his crisp white dress shirt, proceeding to take a gander around your bedroom that he hadn’t revisited in quite some time.

The running sink in the washroom across the hall was finally turned off, although Wonwoo had stopped paying attention to the background noise in place of reading your every detail off the walls. In minuscule ways, the room had changed. There were missing photographs from the dresser, your makeup vanity drawers no longer left ajar in your likely last-minuting rushing to ensure everything was perfect. The closet seemed cleaned-out. Emptier than it once was.

“I thought you might fall asleep.”

He jumped slightly, realizing that you were in the bedroom now, setting down your heels in the corner before making a stride toward the closet where the dress over your arm was hung back up.

Wonwoo bit his lip. “I questioned it.”

You smiled, and within that moment he noticed the long t-shirt you were draped in was the dark blue, logoed math shirt, the one you’d picked after sprinting back to his apartment amidst a rain storm. He felt something in his chest swell and ache in response to how pretty you looked wearing it. Wonwoo knew he was staring, blushing, but he didn’t care. You had two of his t-shirts now. He hoped that collection might continue growing. He hoped that you wore them until his scent was naturally replaced by the strawberry sweetness of your own.

“Thinking about anything in particular?” You asked, arms folded.

Slapping a guilty little grin on his face, Wonwoo shrugged. “No.”

But then you started striding toward Wonwoo, uttering out something half-whispered that sounded a lot like “liar”, and now he truly wasn’t thinking about a damn thing, not even his own breath, as you proceeded to slide your arms around his neck and seat yourself in his lap. He was frozen. You hadn’t been this fucking close to him since you two had cuddled during Seungcheol’s party.

But this was worse—this was full-throttle intimacy with your penetrative, fluttering eyes eating up his soul while your bare thighs squeezed the sense out of him, trapping him, testing him.

“Scared?” You whispered, moving your face in closer.

Yes—he was horrified—he couldn’t even speak with you smiling at him so innocently despite the flames you were igniting.

Though, when he felt a wriggle from your hips that seemed to push against him in all the right places, Wonwoo’s hands were immediate on your waist, tight and stilling, and he swore there was a vulnerable, pliant spark in your eyes that he had never seen before. Maybe Wonwoo could have been more polite about the approach, but after waiting so, so long, he felt like a rocket ship rife with fuel.

He kissed you.

In one decision his lips were pressed to yours, and in a kiss that was full of friction and earnest want, he could only dig deeper. Your arms curled further around his neck, to which you slipped in a quick, sharp breath before pouring yourself back into him so suddenly, mouths moulding again and again, spit slickening, noses bumping. He would have paused to take off his glasses, though Wonwoo was in no place to leave your lips for even a second—especially when your playful tongue glided with his and the world around him melted like wax.

Maybe he was biased (or maybe it was love), but Wonwoo swore it had never felt this right to kiss someone. He knew it, somewhere outside himself, far out in the ever-expanding universe and every other version that belonged, that this moment felt destined to happened. Wonwoo had never particularly believed in fate.

But then he wouldn’t know how else to describe you.

His hands itching to touch more of your skin had gravitated to the thighs clenching at his hips. Your warmth and smoothness only made him greedier. As the kissing became messy in the desperation, he couldn’t help but slide his hands to your ass, immediately kneading his cold fingers into the flesh, pulling, squeezing, pushing you closer into him because he quite literally wanted you to engulf his body.

Then, you were gripping at the back of his hair. You had opened up his throat for your wet lips to continue exploring, and Wonwoo felt every suckle and teething bite draw him further from clarity.

Each kiss slithered lower, until you were gradually lifting from his lap and placing yourself onto the carpet floor. Wonwoo had leaned back to tightly fist the bedsheets behind him, although he would never waver his lusted eyes from the sight of you between his spread legs, on your knees, palming him overtop his dress pants while biting your swollen, glistening lip. He almost wanted the camcorder to capture it.

“How does it feel?” You hummed, staying focused on each pressured movement your hand applied to his prominent erection.

Wonwoo chuckled, clearing the huskiness in his throat, “like I’m gonna die.” His head tilted back. “Holy shit.”

Flashing nothing but a conniving, pleased smile, you tended to undoing his belt buckle. Wonwoo was burning up. As you pulled down the zipper to his pants and helped him shift down the waistband to his underwear an adequate distance, he couldn’t process anything but the fact that he might burst like an explosion of confetti the second your hand would touch him.

Except, you opted to sit back on your haunches.

Tilting your head, you smirked at him.

“I would like a demonstration, please.”

He almost choked. “A what?”

“A demonstration,” you repeated, shuffling closer in between his thighs and gazing up much too seraphically through your lashes, “won’t you show me how you touch yourself, Wonwoo? Please?”

For the life of him, he couldn’t produce one stupid fragment of a sentence, or even a word. God—it didn’t fucking help that you took reign and offered to get him started—your hand carefully reaching past his underwear, gripping onto him gently to spring his erection free. A shiver surged throughout his body at the sensation. Hotness spread like molten lava across his face as the result of your lascivious, teasing actions stood leaking and stiffer than wood right before your eyes, which were agleam with thrill and haze.

You seemed as though you were going to pounce on him.

But he could visibly see you swallow the temptation.

“Aww, you have the prettiest dick I’ve ever seen,” you giggled, wrapping a hand around him that was soft and warm, “would it make you feel better if I started you off, then? Gave you some help?”

Wonwoo’s fists were tangled so intensely into the bedsheets he was surprised the fabric hadn’t disintegrated. Holding his breath, he watched you lean forward until your mouth was hovering an agonizing distance over him, only to produce a line of spit that dripped onto his head. His jaw unhinged in a groan. Then you began working the saliva along his shaft, pumping a hand up and down, occasionally flickering your thumb over the sensitive tip only to remove the contact so casually, likely knowing it would rip him apart.

“Your turn.”

He took a second to push up his glasses and shake his head.

“M’not gonna last long, you know,” Wonwoo grunted, at last heeding your request and beginning to stroke himself for your viewing pleasure, “especially after that big display. You fucking tease.”

With an arm slid over his thigh and the drool collecting in your mouth, you couldn’t have looked anymore dazzled by the thirst you were experiencing, your eyes refusing to part from every tug delivered by his own hand. It was a spell, and you were unapologetically under it.

“Mmm, a tease?” You purred, smiling. “I was just trying to help.”

“Were you?” Wonwoo scoffed, pumping faster while continuing to twist up the bedsheets using his other hand. “Rubbing your fucking spit into my cock is tt-trying to help me? Is that what you think?”

“Mmhm,” you answered, straightening up as Wonwoo felt himself become tenser, felt the pressure in his abdomen climb.

He shuddered, a groan reverberating from somewhere deep in his chest. The sound of his fist wetly slapping up and down consumed the room and Wonwoo knew it was only a matter of seconds before he lost it. You were basking in every sound and movement.

“Fuck, fuck, I-I can't—”

Suddenly, you’d pushed Wonwoo’s hand away. His stomach flipped upside down. Before he could recognize the brief loss and regain of pleasure, your suckling, wet, hot mouth was already sliding down around his erection, your grip fastening to whatever you couldn’t quite reach. Wonwoo bit his lip so hard at the sensation that something coppery-warm was tasted on his tongue, although that was the least of his concerns when you were throating him with messy desperation. His hand rested on your scalp, nervous to push your head down too firmly, but once he did, you moaned out so erotically around him that Wonwoo fragmented.

His hips bucked straight into your face while his fingers had tightened at the back of your scalp, feeling every intense throb expand against your throat, spurt after spurt filthy in your mouth. But you were diligent and zealous and Wonwoo knew you were swallowing it all despite the few tears trickling onto his pelvis. His length didn’t leave the velvet, pillowy confines of your mouth until every bit was expertly milked out from him, though had Wonwoo let his hand drift off your hair in case you wanted a breath.

With a hiccup and a wipe against your chin, you were tasting the bedroom’s heavy air and exhaling ragged as Wonwoo marvelled you.

“Trying to take my soul with you or something?” He huffed, using his thumb to remove some leftovers from the side of your lips.

You caught his hand in an instant. “No—” you piped up, quick to close your mouth around the digit and suck off whatever he politely removed, laving your tongue like you were licking a popsicle, “—I want all of it.”

He thought he might crumble, hearing you mumble such obscene words while tracks of tears dried overtop your cheeks, your voice sounding somewhat hoarse from the labour of taking him whole.

You were climbing back onto Wonwoo’s lap almost blindly, his next breath taken away by a passionate kiss you pushed so fervently onto his lips. There was another tangling of tongues, saliva mixing together, but neither attempting to take control— though at this point Wonwoo would gladly oblige to throwing you on the bed and twisting off those frustrating panties he imagined were sticking to you. He could feel your arousal dampening through the baby pink cotton as his length twitched back to hardness underneath you.

“Wonwoo,” you whined breathily into his ear while grinding your hips against him in search of friction, “I’ve got to tell you something I did.” You bruised up his neck with more kisses. “Something bad.”

His eyes were shut, hands continuing to grope your ass. “Yeah?” He mumbled, feeling your tongue drag across a vein in his neck. “You did something bad? What could that be?”

Your hands drifted down his chest, yanking open the buttons on his dress shirt in satisfying pops. Warm, feathery breath hit his ear. “That day I stayed the night in your bedroom… alone…” you kissed him on his mouth, letting it linger and last, “I couldn’t help it.”

Wonwoo had gripped the side of your face, meanwhile he rubbed underneath the waistband to your tiny, thin underwear.

“Couldn’t help what?”

He flinched as your hand sunk down to grab his cock.

“I touched myself,” you confessed just an inch from his face, “I laid back against your pillows, spread my legs all wide… I had my fingers stuffed so deep inside myself, but it still didn’t feel like enough.” Again, you were softly stroking him. Wonwoo continued to uphold that unwavering, painfully honest gaze you were pinning him in. “Nd’ I came all over your t-shirt, Wonwoo. I played with myself until my fingers were cramping and my legs couldn’t stay open anymore.”

He gulped—heavy—like swallowing a chunk of lead. His tender thumb grazed along your cheek and rubbed over your puffy lips. “I wanted to fuck you so bad that night,” Wonwoo soothed your confession with another, which was already quite obvious, “I dreamt about it. I wanted to bury myself so fucking deep inside your gut.”

You shook your head, eyes teary. “Why didn’t you?” He felt the delicate stroking motion along his erection come to a pause.

Wonwoo cradled your cheek. “It would have fucked everything up.”

“But I wanted it,” you whimpered. “I’ve been wanting it for so long and you just left me there. I would have been quiet. You could have put me face down in the pillows and just used me all you wanted.”

“No,” Wonwoo argued, “I would never want to use you. I want us to be together in everything. I know you wanted it. But lust makes you think different. Just like it’s making you think different right now.”

He softly slotted his mouth with yours, exchanging a much slower, sweeter kiss that lit a glow in his belly. You puddled right into the contact, curling your arms back around his neck to hold him tighter.

Much lighter kisses dappled the edges of your lips.

Wonwoo could feel you start to smile.

“I figured something was off the next morning,” he said.

You chuckled, “I didn’t know how to face with you without thinking about it. I felt so dirty. But in the moment, I needed something.”

He nipped down your slender neck, letting his hot breath and reverberating, husky tone tickle your skin until your hairs stood up.

“How wet were you?” Wonwoo purred, smirking.

Immediately, your hips were pushing down on him. “Soaked,” you then whispered, “I was making such a mess. I tried so hard to be quiet. But part of me wanted you to hear.”

Wonwoo’s hands drifted up your t-shirt, gliding slow against your stomach, coming to reach the plump, sensitive breasts that he could only surmise were waiting for his attention. He cupped them in each palm, giving a tender squeeze and pull that pitched your breath into a squeak. Caressing your neck with more wet, open-mouthed kisses, he felt the absentminded grinding reignite the friction between you.

“Did you touch up here, too?”

His thumbs brushed your pert nipples. He felt you shiver.

“Y-Yes.”

Tsking his teeth, he pleasured them with slow, rubbing circles that you mewled in response to. “You’ve got the softest skin. I could touch you until I die, and it still wouldn't be enough.”

“Mmhm,” he heard you exhale shakily, “I touch myself at home, too. Put my pillow between my legs. Pretend I’m grinding against you. Then let my fingers take me again and again until it hurts.”

How dare you fucking say that to him—how dare you put such an intimate visual in his mind to haunt him like a ghost to hallowed grounds. How many times had you done it? How many times had you stood right in front of him, smiling so innocently, despite knowing damn well what you had done to yourself the night before.

Wonwoo pinched your nipples, watching you flinch.

“Does it hurt right now?”

You nodded.

“Where?” He lowered his voice, sinking his hand back down the creases in your tummy until it paused right on your mound, his eyes trained to your suddenly very desperate, misty look. “Down here?”

“Yes.”

Holding eye contact with you, Wonwoo trailed his hand further along your panties until his touch was situated right between your thighs, directly feeling the wet fabric, the radiating heat, the aroused pulsations. Your fingernails were pricks in his shoulders.

“Fuck, you are drenched, aren’t you?” Wonwoo commented, rubbing his hand against you through the cotton material, your hips soon chasing the overwhelming pleasure. “Can feel you throbbing against my hand, you know that? Bet it aches so fucking good, hm?”

He grinned hard at your eyebrows knitting together. While he massaged you with one hand, the other gripped your chin where he pushed a hot, uncoordinated kiss onto your whiny mouth.

“Lay across my lap,” Wonwoo whispered in between the hasty break for air, “let me play with you instead, make you cum. Please.”

To his delight, your compliance came easily.

It didn’t take long for you to splay yourself in the desired position, with Wonwoo pushing up the shirt to bunch at your waist while your bottom was perfectly presented in his lap. He massaged you, leaning down to mark a trail of kisses along your lower back, along your ass—spreading you wide to see the large, soaked patch glistening on those easily rippable underwear.

“Just open your thighs a bit more,” Wonwoo instructed, to which you quickly listened, “fuck—perfect—all this, only for me.” He pushed his thumb against you through the panties and you instantly squeaked.

“Right?” He urged. “Is this all just for me?”

“Mmhm—yes, yes. I fucking promise. Just for you.”

Wonwoo bit his lip to stop the size of the immediate smile from breaking across his face. Your hips wriggled up as his touch drifted away.

“I need more,” you groaned in frustration, “please.”

“More here?” Wonwoo pulled back on one side of your glute to help reveal the sensitive area, then rubbing his thumb against your clit.

Your entire body jerked, and he noticed your fingers dig into the bedsheets, clawing them up. He figured the wet friction between his thumb and your panties was frustratingly amplifying every little sensation in a dull but very cruel way. He continued his ministrations, adding some more pressure for you to squirm and moan at.

“Does it still hurt?” Wonwoo asked, letting his other hand slide up your bare waist, the skin beginning to sweat and turn even warmer.

“Please,” you groaned, attempting to adjust your hips against the stroking from his thumb, “I feel like m’gonna fucking die, Wonwoo.”

“Still need more, then?”

“Yes!”

Deciding to throw you a bone, Wonwoo grabbed those thin, pink panties in his hand and helped you slide the constricting fabric down and off your legs. Once he spread you nice and wide, let the cold air ghost the slicken, swollen skin, you had gasped. For a moment, Wonwoo didn’t speak—he only stared at you with all the stars in the universe collecting behind his eyes, glittering like a snow globe—at how beautiful and exposed and needy you looked.

He let his fingers slide ever so slowly along your clit, drawing up to your hole, then pushing back down to hear you whimper brokenly.

Wonwoo swallowed the dryness in his throat.

“Do you have any fucking idea how beautiful you are?” He complimented, his fingers soaking in your arousal. “I knew your cunt would look pretty, but this is more than that. God…” experimentally, Wonwoo shifted a finger gentle into your opening, giving the digit a wriggle and few shallow pumps. Immediately your intense warmth clenched down tight before loosening, engendering him to effortlessly press in two more long fingers. “There you go… good girl…” he mumbled his encouragement as you gripped the bedsheets and moaned a guttural sound, “taking in my fingers so fucking well—they slide in so easy… make such perfect, dirty noises whenever they fill up this gorgeous cunt.”

His thumb touched at your clit, lending it some attention that had you twisting and bucking back to receive even more pleasure.

“God, Wonwoo…” you gasped, sounding lost to the ecstasy while letting him take his time with mapping out your inner walls with curious strokes, “that feels so fucking good. You have no idea. Feels like m’gonna pour all over you.”

He grinned, further stimulating your swollen clit, maintaining the pattern as you propped up on your elbows, tugged at the bedspread, and released a mellifluous, shuddering moan from your throat.

“F-fuck ye-yess…” you whined as his fingers squelched deeper and his thumb continued its circles, “yes, yes, yes, keep doing that—oh-oh, fuck! M’gonna cum all over your fingers—m’gonna make a mess!”

“That’s all I want,” he breathed, his chest tightening at how much arousal was pooling sticky around his digits, “that’s all I’ve ever fucking wanted—make a mess all over me, like the pretty, desperate girl you are. Let me see it. Let me feel everything. Cum just for me.”

Your entire body proceeded to seize, Wonwoo’s fingers now struggling to pump, as this striking wave seemingly coursed through you and resulted in heavy fluids wetting his dress pants. It took a moment for you to power through the pleasure, though Wonwoo was at least able to maintain his stroking gestures against your clit until he noted the sharp, almost spastic twitches in your muscles.

“That’s a good girl,” Wonwoo hummed in satisfaction while he gingerly eased his fingers out and left your poor, throbbing bud alone.

He smoothed his hand down your back, offering you a moment to relax, breathe, and ride out the electricity.

“Fuck,” you wiped at the sweat on the back of your neck, chuckling at the discomfort, “I can feel it all between my legs.”

Wonwoo smirked. Hard. He bent forward to peck your temple, then brushed his lips against your stinging hot ear. "How about I clean that all up for you?" The velvety whisper caused your body to jitter.

"Clean me up how?" You turned your head, catching his eye.

There was a swap of positions. Wonwoo lowered himself to the bedroom floor, the carpet spongey against his knees, while you lay down on your back and draped your legs off the edge of the bed. But he was hungry for you, and greedier than a treasure hunter, and you went limp as he hitched your knees over his broad shoulders.

Being face to face with your intimate heat was like the kiss of life—new energy was taking over him—giving him desire unlike any other.

He didn't know if he wanted to keep staring at you, your soft skin messy with slick and twitching anticipatorly at his closeness, or if he should stop prolonging the moment and just bury everything into you. Adjusting his glasses, Wonwoo licked his bitten lips. You were in the midst of shuffling up to your elbows, likely wondering what the hell he doing, staring between your thighs for so long.

But as quickly as you squeaked his name, it was interrupted by an intense gasp a second later. You leaned all your weight onto a single elbow, tossing your head back, panting for dear life as Wonwoo striped his tongue long and flat against your heat. His hands gripped your hips, sculpting them over your bone while he tasted your arousal, all sticky and musky and delicious to the point of addiction.

"O-Oh my god, Wonwoo," you cried, letting your body collapse onto the bedsheets, limbs becoming jelly, "that feels fucking amazing."

He licked into you like he were trying to reach the centre of a sweet, colourful jawbreaker. Every pass from his tongue was firm, encompassing, smothering you in pleasure and painting you with spit. But you reacted best when he toyed his ministrations around your sensitive clit—your back would jolt off the bed, arched, as your thighs hugged him tight—Wonwoo heard your begging akin to a distant echo. He would even smile into you, glasses all foggy, chin running in wetness, as you preached his name dumbly, losing your mind. Wonwoo pressed his mouth hot against you, flicking his tongue to your overstimulated clit, focusing hard on his pattern.

"Fuck, fuck!" You shouted, writhing into the sheets. "Please, Wonwoo. Please, please, please—I'm—I'm gonna cum! Please, just—k-keep—"

There was a surge of something warm and liquid that Wonwoo wanted to drink like a peach's nectar. You were throbbing right under his tongue and he loved it to a point that felt utterly insane. He didn't want to stop even if the world was ending. His face plunged in deeper, his hands grafting into your hips harsher, completely ignorant to your fingers pulling at his hectic locks of hair. Wonwoo only wanted you and nothing else and he was going to drown in it.

But you were attempting to sit up, your sweaty body becoming better at escaping his eager, hungry licks that dug into your slit, and once he heard you wince particularly sharp, he knew he had to stop.

He sat back, removing his glasses and wiping off his chin. You slid a leg from his shoulder, using a foot to gently prod against his chest—a light scolding for perhaps enjoying you a little too much.

"Are you starved?" You laughed heavily, gulping down a breath.

Wonwoo fit the glasses back to his face. "For you? Yes." He then licked at his teeth and lips, still yearning to find traces of your arousal, only to realize you were shaking. "Shit—I'm sorry if I hurt you." Standing up, he cupped your face, bending down to kiss you gentle on the lips over and over. "I'm so fucking sorry. You taste amazing, that's all. And you're so beautiful. I couldn't fucking help it."

With a giggle, you tousled his hair. "No, I'm fine. I like a little pain." Your eyes were back to shining. Then, you caught his mouth, stealing another kiss. "But I’m even greedier than you—," pushing yourself up, you nipped at his lips, “—and I want that pretty, long cock inside me to hit all the right spots.” The exchange had you seated back in Wonwoo’s lap, where your bare, soaked pussy was free to brush against his straining and achingly hard length.

“Yeah?” Wonwoo smirked, welcoming your spit-smeared mouth.

Feeling your hips grind against him, you purred, “yeah.”

“I’ve got no protection,” Wonwoo admitted in between the make-out session, hardly able to pry your lips from one another as you slid backward on the bed with Wonwoo climbing over top.

Helping to shove off his dress shirt and slacks, discarding them to the floor, you shook your head. “Don’t need it.”

Returning the gesture, Wonwoo had you fully undressed. The entirety of your bare body on full display felt like something sacred—an artwork that had been crafted with unimaginable attentiveness to every single detail, no matter how miniscule. He couldn't liken it to anything else in his life but a distant memory from childhood—a grand mausoleum that he found himself inside with his older brother, the ceiling intricately chiselled with angelic, satin-like bodies.

Your words seemed distant. It took a second for him to remember.

“Don't need protection? Why?"

As your hands locked behind his neck, pulling him down close, you dug into his eyes with an emotional gaze. “Finish inside me.”

He stuttered, furrowing his brow, “seriously? You won’t—”

“No. I’m taking precautions, you know.” Brushing at his dampened, thick hair, you asked, “have you ever had unprotected sex?”

Wonwoo scoffed, surprised at the inquiry, “yeah. But—is that—you really want that? With me?” He stared down at you intensely.

“I only want it if you want it, too.”

He nodded, biting his lip, taking a moment to examine your perspiring face alongside the the rising and dipping of your chest.

“I want it,” Wonwoo reaffirmed, “I definitely want it.”

Truth be told, a splinter of nerves had lodged into his chest at the thought of having to perform to your anticipation—Wonwoo was never really sure if he would ever get intimate with you—and as his gaze again streamed your body, he felt overwhelmed. But then your fingertips were stroking down his bicep, seemingly drawing out the forthcoming anxiety from him like you were pulling out a thread of energy, and the easygoing smile he was met with tamed his heart.

Wonwoo eased closer toward you, allowing your expert touches to be the guide. Your hand had returned to his length for a few more thorough and especially lentamente tugs, prompting him to hiss into your neck while very flushed shades of pink crawled up his face.

He felt himself throb, wanting to simply collapse against you and climax at your hand for the second time. To make matters even more complicated, Wonwoo felt you shift slightly, and then the tip of his impatient cock was suddenly gliding all slippery like butter along your folds. Wonwoo’s arms started to shake.

You laid your palm gentle against his neck.

“How’s that feel?” You whispered in a trembling breath, meanwhile continuing the heavenly ministrations of tracing your clit with his length. “I-I think it feels quite nice—getting you all wet.”

“Amazing,” he answered, pressing his forehead to yours and pecking at your lips, “you want me to take it from here?”

Keeping silent, your grip drifted from his erection and you seemed satisfied to let the control sway now that Wonwoo was adjusted. Just before he aligned himself, however, he looked at you and laughed.

“Can you push up my glasses real quick?”

You chuckled, “seriously?”

“What’s wrong with wanting to be see you properly?”

“Nothing,” you flashed a tender smile, then using your finger to help position the glasses back up his nose, “there you go.”

Wonwoo proceeded to slide himself inside you at a slower pace that allowed him to bask in the intimate sensation—he made damn sure every little squeeze, flutter, and convulsion your heat cushioned him with was felt—though that made it considerably hard for him not to release in pathetic fashion, before he had even made a good, swift thrust. You were soaking up the moment just as much.

He didn’t want to advert his eyes from the pleasure cascading like ripples across your face for even a second. Once he was buried in still and deep, completely stuffing you to the hilt, your breath had fogged up his glasses.

“Fuck—s-sorry—” you squirmed through the apology, your hips occasionally canting against his in unbridled twitches, “—I can hardly fucking think right now. Do you know how much you’re throbbing?”

He choked out a hoarse laugh, “do you know how insanely good you feel to me? Feels like m’gonna fucking break into a million pieces. ”

“I want you to break me into a million pieces,” you whined so needily, looping your arms around his neck, “fuck me, Wonwoo. Please.”

He was positive you had told him that in a dream once.

As euphoric as you felt clenching around him, Wonwoo truly did want the sex to last. His thrusts into your heat weren’t frantically impatient, rather they grooved incredibly, purposefully deep—each stroke was thoughtful but hard, slow but timely, and judging from your high-pitched keens and the nails scraping against his shoulder blades, he knew you were appreciating the moment just the same.

Wonwoo grasped your sweaty hands in his, your fingers interlocking tight, in order to hold them against the sea of silky pillows above your head. With another especially daggering thrust that made his teeth clench and his abdomen flutter, you had jerked and cried out his name, followed by a breathless, “rr-right there!”

A leg wrapped around his hips, your ankle digging uncomfortably into his side while he continued to push his length into the spot that was making you howl. But it was getting increasingly difficult to continue the tempo—your leg was tightening around him like a boa constrictor and your warmth was clamping down with plain strength, almost as though your body was attempting to lock him inside.

He merely squeezed your hands harder, losing his breath. “You’re almost there, aren’t you?” Taking advantage of another thorough stroke, Wonwoo had the bedframe thudding the wall, his words hotly pressing into your ear. “You’re trying to keep me suctioned in.”

Your whimpers were falling apart like crumbling clay. Wonwoo tried to understand what it was you were mewling at him, something involving his name, how good it felt, that he should keep going, meanwhile tears were springing to your eyes and wetting your glimmery cheeks. Wonwoo bit his lip. He was throbbing wildly inside your heat, knowing you were only getting dumber and turning incoherent as he speared you so intimately on his cock.

Wonwoo wasn’t going to last much longer and neither were you. He was already feeling himself burst and break—the convulsion ripped through him like a landslide and now your leg was fully hooked around his hips, pinning him against you while he emptied himself disgustingly deep inside your warmth.

The sensation must have triggered your own orgasm, because his cock felt like it was practically being suffocated as you squeezed down on him. Wonwoo thought he might blackout when you whined his name into the dim bedroom humidity, strung in a loud, trembling lilt that cracked beautifully in the middle.

Your arms were winding back around his neck, pulling his face to yours, a kiss crushed onto his awaiting mouth.

“I need more,” you panted in between the kisses, “don’t feel full enough yet. Cum inside me again, Wonwoo. Please, take me again.”

“Again?” He smiled, his glasses bumping your nose. You were completely uncaring, only nipping at him harder. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, “I’ve never been surer of anything in my fucking life.” Suddenly, you were wriggling underneath him, rolling onto your stomach, and repositioning yourself such that you were face-down-ass-up. With eyes twinkling bright in pure, carnal lust, you threw him a a yearning glance from over your shoulder. “Fuck me again, nice and deep like before." His heart shot into his throat. When you begged, it was like his world was shrinking into a bubble where only you and him existed. "Please—I need it before your cum starts leaking out. I need to be filled by you, Wonwoo. Please.” You looked like you might cry if he didn't oblige the plead.

And so he did, his fingers planting a firm grip on your strong hips.

As much as you were willing to take, he was willing to give, finding himself submerge further and further into the intoxicating nature of it all until he started to lose his mind—all he knew is that it was concerningly late at night, your bedsheets were sticky and ruined, and you had gone from being thrust into the pillows to slapping yourself down on his cock while Wonwoo hazily watched. He loved the sight of your sweat, your glowing light, your bouncing breasts and pleasure-drunk face far too much. At some point, you had slumped forward into him, spent to fucking hell.

With your chests were pressed together, his cock still throbbing and stuffed inside you, there was a moment of nothing but thick, laboured breathing and heartbeats synchronizing. He kissed your temple and wrapped his arms around you, proceeding to mumble something sweet and half-asleep that contained your name.

You had squeezed his length unforgivingly in response.

“Fuck—don’t get me hard again. I’m fucking exhausted.”

“I like when you use my name.”

He smiled into your cheek. “I can tell.”

Wonwoo had woken before you.

Mostly because the bedsheets had been gradually wrapped up and tugged away and progressively stolen from him during the night, letting the cool, morning air dust over him like spray from an ocean. You were a fidgety sleeper, he had realized, sometimes even a mumbler, although Wonwoo had never been able to discern what it was you were sluggishly declaring in your dreams.

He turned his head to you, saw the bare groove of your back, shapely like a flower petal, and your arm dug underneath the silk pillow, observing every breath your unconscious body took.

Then, Wonwoo was leaning over you, feeling his fingers sink into your fleshy waist while his lips touched a kiss against your warm cheek. He hoped you wouldn’t mind him using your washroom for a shower.

Afterward, Wonwoo retraced the apartment, finding his shoes a questionable distance apart—one stood square at the front door while the other was left in the hallway leading to your room. His winter jacket was tossed over the arm to the couch, meanwhile his phone involved a more in-depth search. For some reason, he’d left it atop a shelf beside the television, hidden by a clumsy stack of textbooks.

When he tapped the screen, it illuminated some text messages from Vernon that had been sent at around two in the morning—mostly inquiries about the birthday dinner and whether or not Wonwoo had bothered going to the famed and mysterious Room 319.

Though, he opted not to respond, realizing the details he wanted to share with his friend would likely require a sit-down discussion over burgers, fries, and sodas at Solar Pop. Making his way back to the bedroom, Wonwoo carefully creaked open the door to find you half-shoved onto an arm, making tired circles against your eye.

He smiled, coming to sit beside you, handing off the glass of water he poured for himself.

“Are you leaving?” Was the first question you blearily pieced together after accepting the water but not drinking anything from it.

Wonwoo shook his head. “No.”

You managed to sit up properly, the sheets settling around your hips while you continued holding onto the glass. For a moment, you seemed to just observe Wonwoo, your eyes still swollen from sleep.

“Where are you going, then?”

He furrowed his brow. “Nowhere,” Wonwoo laughed, pulling one leg up onto the bed. “I got up to shower. Went and found my things. Got a glass of water, which you’re now holding, by the way.”

You swallowed, looking down at your lap.

“Oh…” after a recollecting pause, you took a sip from it.

Wonwoo smiled, his eyes softening like fresh brown sugar, as he proceeded to unstick some matted hairs from the edge of your face.

“You’re a pretty big sheet stealer,” he said, continuing to spread his fingers about your features, removing fluffs and rubbing off bits of dried spit, “and you seem to like talking, even in your sleep.”

“Oh, yeah… I should have told you that.”

He shrugged. “It’s fine. I liked not knowing.”

“Did you?” With a laugh and smile, you drank some more water.

“Yeah. Because it’s you, it makes me adore it even more.”

“I don’t always mumble. I swear. Only sometimes.”

Wonwoo didn’t care. “It’s not a big deal.”

“I guess I should shower, too. Then I’ll change the sheets and get new ones on.” You abruptly raised the blankets at your lap, lifting up a leg to examine something Wonwoo couldn’t see. “Yeah, I definitely need to change the sheets… oh! And take my pill. Fuck. I can’t forget.”

“I can help with the sheets.”

“Okay,” you said while leaning forward to pull open a drawer on your nightstand, revealing a thin, silver cartridge of pills, “thanks.”

After you had showered and gotten dressed in a clean spare t-shirt, you changed the dirtied sheets to your bed together.

Then you and Wonwoo spent some time together in the open, bright living room, lounging on the couch. Maybe you had kissed a few more times, and maybe his naturally cold hands had found their way underneath your loose t-shirt to curiously massage and press along your pretty chest, and maybe you had kissed a little more after that while the sun rays slid up your sensitive skin.

You twisted away from Wonwoo’s lips with a giggle.

“M’kay, that’s enough, or else I’ll need another shower.” You grabbed at Wonwoo’s hands that had been squeezing your breasts.

Although he didn’t want to stop, he listened, relaxing against the pillow he had stuffed between his spine and the arm of the couch, now throwing an elbow behind his head. You were leaning back against him, getting comfy between his legs, and for a few minutes or so, the two of you gazed out those large, floor-length glass windows into the awakening, snow-capped city.

He felt you stir against him.

“You know… sometimes you don’t always speak English.”

Wonwoo itched his eyebrow, chuckling, “what?”

“Last night, like, when I was riding you—” your head tilted back onto his shoulder, beaming him a smile, “—you would start switching languages. In between English and Korean. It was so cute.”

“Oh, yeah.” He adjusted his glasses, staring down at you while his cheeks became rosy. “I don’t know, it’s just something my brain does automatically. I don’t always realize I’m doing it.”

You grinned; eyes sparkling. “When it feels too good?”

Ruffling a hand through his hair, he simply smirked at you.

“Having a front seat view to the most beautiful girl in the world riding me just happens to be something that makes me feel really good.”

You pushed your head up to kiss him, followed by a sweet and brief whisper that he smiled at, “compliment appreciated.”

A few more quiet minutes passed. Wonwoo thought he could spend the entire day just sitting on the couch with you warm in his arms, watching the snow tumble down like wisps of tender willows.

“Wonwoo?”

“Mm?”

You got quiet.

Then, your weight against his chest was gone, and you had half-turned yourself around to look at him, seeming nervous.

He tilted his head. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you answered, glancing down briefly before soaking him back into your agleam eyes. “I just want to apologize, actually.”

At that, Wonwoo stiffened. “Yeah? What for?”

With a sigh and another anxious moment to fiddle with the rolled-up cuff belonging to his wrinkled dress shirt, you were reserved.

“Ever since we fought, I can't help thinking about it. I mean, I’ve thought about what you said, and the fact you apologized, and explained yourself, and how you gave me time to process it all. You gave me so much grace, even when I felt like I hated you… but… I also said some hurtful things about you… I mean, back then I felt like you deserved it. And, I don’t know… maybe you did? Like, maybe we both needed to just be there, screaming at each other, digging our guts out, throwing up all this stuff to the surface because no one else has ever given us that freedom or made us feel like we could before. Anyway, I just feel like it’s only right that I say sorry, too.”

Scratching at his neck, Wonwoo swallowed. He never thought of it like that. “Uh, sure. If that’s what you feel you need to do. ”

“I’m sorry, Wonwoo. I really, truly am.”

He smiled, grasping at your hand and threading his fingers with yours. Pangs of regret were flooding your eyes, filling them up until they were undoubtedly teary and Wonwoo had to wipe it all away.

“It’s fine, I swear,” he whispered, moving in closer to you, brushing at your cheek as you sniffled. “Nothing has ever truly changed how I feel about you. You’re incredibly firm but sensitive, and have such fiery passion, and you’re curious about everything, and I know that it hurts so much to live without really knowing yourself. But I see you, and I feel like I know you. I never want to stop knowing you, alright?”

“Wonwoo?”

“Yeah?”

Your mouth pressed against his, and he tasted the salt from the tears that beaded down the slopes of your cheeks, warm with life.

“I love you.” He felt the whisper touch at his lips. “I really do.”

Wonwoo held onto your face like he was cradling a big pearl. “I love you, too.” Another kiss sealed the expression into felt, tangible emotion. “But honestly, you already knew that.”

Later in the day, you came up to Wonwoo as he ate lunch at the table, only after having disappeared into a distant office space further down the hallway. You dropped before him a clear, plastic duotang, which held a notably thick stack of papers that had quite a weight to it upon picking up. It only took a few flips into the papers for Wonwoo to realize that it was the completed book he used to proofread for you—a series of chronological memories between yourself and the boyfriend you had gradually drifted apart from.

True to your word, you had forged ahead and finished the book alone.

He was proud to hold the evidence.

Wonwoo asked what you planned to do with the book now that it was done. He even wondered if you might let him read some parts he never got to work on, though he understood if you preferred to keep the contents private. As he was in the middle of lifting a hot spoon to his mouth, Wonwoo suddenly paused at hearing your response.

“I think I’ll just shred it.”

You didn’t seem to care.

The decision came easier than pressing a button. There was only one copy of the book, apparently, and you had plans to turn all its pages into literary confetti. But that was a very you thing to do, Wonwoo had come to accept. Writing served many purposes, and it seemed that the purpose you had sought out was met. Somewhere, in all those paragraphs, sentences, letters, and ink, you found the fulfillment you had always ached for. At last, you struck a glimmer of promising gold after digging through all the haze and confusion.

“Sure,” he answered, “shred away.”

—8 MONTHS LATER. END OF JUNE.

“It looks so pathetic!”

“What?! No it doesn’t!”

Peeking up from the mason jar of earthy blue water he’d been swirling together using some dirtied paintbrushes, Wonwoo saw you seated across from him, talking to a very dismayed, upset twelve-year-old girl. Sierra’s little sister, Cora, had enrolled in his landlord’s ceramics class over the summer, and thus every Saturday evening she spent her time moulding unwilling chunks of grey clay alongside other similarly aged students. It was only Cora in the shop since she had been the last to get her teapot in the kiln, taking extra time with every minute detail.

Though, despite her care and attentive pace, Cora was still not pleased with the teapot, leading her to grumble and shake her head.

You were sitting beside her, a hand rubbing along the little girl’s back while she continued scrutinizing her creation. Ever since you moved into Wonwoo’s apartment back in May, Saskia had quite liked you more than her average tenant, and that somehow transformed into an offer to help her teach the summer ceramics class (with pay).

Wonwoo was always there to assist in the clean-up afterward—his favourite part was submerging all the greasy, bristly paintbrushes into a clean jar of water so that he could watch how their colours bled out in thin, swirling hues.

“No, no, no—it’s just bad.”

“I’m telling you. It’s not.”

Cora picked up the lid to the pot, then placed it back down. “There—look—it doesn’t even close properly. And the spout is not spouty enough… it’s too thick, I think. Hardly any tea will go through!”

“Well, I really like it.”

Tucking a tuft of poofy, rust-brown hair behind her ear, Cora gave you a suspecting and funny sort of look that made Wonwoo smile to himself. She was a very shy student, but she talked to you the most.

“You say that about everything I make,” Cora sighed.

“So what?”

“So…” she nibbled on her small lip, looking off to the side, “you have to say that, because you're nice. You’re like my mom. She says she loves everything I make. But then why don’t I ever love it?”

“She loves it because you made it, obviously. And she loves you. I think love changes how we look at things. Even the impractical.” Then, you picked up her teapot and moved it closer. “You know why I like this teapot? Because it shows you’re determined. I mean, look at all those bowls on the newspaper over there—you’re the only one who did the teapot! And you did it mostly by yourself. You wouldn’t even let me help you roll out the clay. So, that’s why I like it. Because I see you in it. And when you tackle it again, you’ll know what to do differently. Plus, you know you can ask me for help, right? You know I’ll always help you.”

The little girl’s freckled face suddenly became less twisted with judgement and frustration. She set her elbows onto the table, scratching at a Hello Kitty bandaid along the back of her hand, while you gave her hair a quick ruffle. Wonwoo started drying off the paintbrushes using paper towel before moving them into the cup labelled “clean” with a piece of tape.

“What should I do with this, then? If it won’t work,” Cora asked.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. But for now, just leave it with the other stuff. We’ll give it a nice glaze next time around. Make it even prettier. Then you can decide what to do with it—whether or not you want to keep it or smash it on the ground. It’s up to you, Cora.”

Wonwoo tilted his head. “Why don’t you turn it into a miniature flower pot or something? Fill it with soil and plant something in it?”

Cora raised her eyebrows. “I like that idea, actually.”

“Me too,” you said, shooting Wonwoo a sly wink that he smiled very stupidly at, “look at this guy over here. Lurking with his good ideas.”

By the time Sierra was available to pick up her sister, Wonwoo had officially finished cleaning all the paintbrushes and whittling tools, as well as replacing the tablecloth with a fresh one. The three of you stood at the base to the shop’s very small stoop, exchanging some general conversation while a sleepy Cora held onto her sister’s hand and leaned her seemingly heavy head against her side.

The sky was a tame yellow shade, not as bright as a buttercup, but something delicate of the like.

“Hey—I heard you guys are planning a vacation!” Sierra chirped, adjusting the car keys in her hand, “is that all true?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, flashing Wonwoo a soft smile, “uh, we decided that we’re gonna spend some time in South Korea. I haven’t visited his family at all. But, yeah. Gonna leave start of August and come back right before October. So, a pretty good chunk of time.”

“No way!” She exclaimed.

“We’ll see how it pans out,” Wonwoo commented, sliding his arm around your waist and digging his fingers into your hip. “But my brother won’t shut his mouth about meeting her. And my parents are obviously curious. Besides, there are some great places I want to show off.”

Sierra shook her head. “I’m jealous. And totally sure you guys will have a great experience together. We’ll miss you here, though.”

“Please do,” you laughed, and Sierra pinched your cheek.

She then looked down at her sister, who had her eyes shut.

“Okay, I’m gonna get this little dove home. Thank you so much for helping her at ceramics by the way. She talks about you all the time.”

“Really?” You touched at your face, seeming flustered. “Well, I love helping her out. She’s a sweet girl with a lot of will on her shoulders.” Lowering your voice, you moved in closer to Sierra. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for a cute gift she can have while we’re gone.”

After parting ways with Sierra and Cora, you and Wonwoo returned upstairs, back into the apartment to prepare for supper.

Both of you were feeling particularly lazy, and the shiny red tomato he was supposed to chop ended up being ignored in place of eating ice cream straight from its tub.

You were the one who grabbed it—Wonwoo was only following suit as he picked up a spoon and curved some out.

Something else interesting about you that Wonwoo had learned since moving in together was that you didn’t really care to ever sit on a chair, even when you were eating. It was either the sofa, the floor, or the kitchen table, in which you would be holding onto your food even though he always thought how easier it could be if you did sit down properly. The quirk was fun, nonetheless, and Wonwoo had admittedly started looking at the kitchen table in a different light after he proceeded to give you oral on it one night. Consequently, it bloomed a very dangerous habit between the two of you.

A habit that might become drastically less accessible once you two jetted off to his native country for over a month, confined between his parent’s cozy home where he grew up and the two-story apartment his wealthy brother and sister-in-law owned in the glittering heart of South Korea’s Seoul. He was nervous. You were nervous. But at least you were together.

Over the months, your parents had gradually come to accept him as your boyfriend, even if they weren't exactly warmed up to the idea at the start. Wonwoo revisited your home a few times alongside you to help in the explanations of your story and future prospects, although he partially understood that Mingyu was like a precious sapphire to your family and having him out so suddenly was hard to stomach.

He spent years nestling himself a comfortable burrow and smoothing out the bumps to make a crafty façade that, particularly your mother, couldn't help but outwardly adore. Like a son. Like Seokmin, too.

Wonwoo thought Mingyu might give him trouble.

In truth, he'd scarcely seen him, unless transient glimpses of his towering, quickly bustling figure from across a university campus or city street were noteworthy. Obviously, he wasn't inside Mingyu's head and he really had no inclination as to what the boy might be thinking on the occasion he spotted you and Wonwoo hand-in-hand at the park, or sharing breakfast at the café along Sunnyside.

But if Mingyu maintained even half the feelings that Wonwoo did for you, then he was positive it hurt like fucking hell.

Of all people, Wonwoo supposed he himself knew best.

—AUGUST 1ST.

“Wonwoo!”

He closed his dresser drawer, almost slamming his fingers inside. Your voice echoed from the living room, sounding hectic.

“Yes? What’s up!”

“The taxi’s here!”

Fuck. He immediately thought. The time was flying by.

Wonwoo had made a gigantic list of what to pack, but over time he kept adding and taking things away from it. Now, it was early morning, soft rain and cracks of bursting light coming down outside, and he was doing a final clean-sweep of the bedroom as well as his poorly scribbled list to ensure everything he needed was with him.

Quickly approaching the window, Wonwoo glanced outside to see the cab parked at the curb. Fuck. Again. Vernon always said he would happily provide you two a ride to the airport, but then the boy was unsurprisingly wrapped back into some trouble, and Wonwoo hadn’t seen his best friend in over a week.

Graciously, however, Vernon had given him a heads up and a proper goodbye beforehand. He’d even left him a voicemail to listen to, which immediately jumped into Wonwoo’s brain at random as he scrambled around the bedroom in search of his phone.

“Just give me one more minute!” Wonwoo shouted.

There was a pause on your end, and then a sigh.

“Do you need help?”

“No—all good. I promise. Can you let the cab driver know?”

“I will.”

“Thank you!” Wonwoo sang, finding the phone blended into his bedsheets, then proceeding to open his inbox. “I love you!”

“I love you, too!” You shouted back. “Just hurry the fuck up!”

He let Vernon’s message play while also tossing his suitcase onto the bed, stuffing in a few more last-minute grabs with utter clumsiness.

“Heyyy, Glasses! How are things? I’m shooting you this cute little message at arounddd—oh! Looks like it’s two in the mornin’! It’s two in the fuckin’ mornin’ and I’m pulled up outside this dude’s house all ‘cause he can’t pay me back for my good, hard services. It’s nothin’ serious, though. Don’t get all uptight like usual. You know I’m good at handlin’ stuff and keepin’ my cool. Probably my better qualities. Anyway, I’m bored as fuck. I’ve spun this Lloyd CD about four times and I just can’t listen to that dude anymore. He can sing, though.

I am pissed you’re leavin’ me. And I’m pissed she’s leavin’ me, too. You guys are what I look forward to whenever I drive down into that shithole city. Well, I think just about every city’s a shithole city. In fact, the city I’m in now is probably more of a shithole… Seokmin texted me the other day—said he wants to talk—which is vague as fuck and to be honest, I’ve been ignorin’ it ‘cause I can’t get myself to give a god damn. But maybe I’ll hear him out. That guy was a cutie, wasn’t he? I still think you’re a bit cuter. And better at mini-put.

I’ll miss you a lot when you’re down there… it got me thinkin’ about the night when we first met. The New Year’s Eve party. You remember that pretty well, don’t’chya? I saw you come in with those guys—they didn’t look like your crowd at all—but then after a while you were alone. Wanderin’ around. It didn’t even seem like you knew anyone else was there. You had the blankest look on your face. Like you were stuck in a loop and you didn’t even know it. I don’t know that I felt pity or anything… hell, maybe I felt a little. I just talked to ‘ya ‘cause I wanted to know if you knew where you even were.

You knew you were at some stupid, loud, awful fuckin’ house party jammed with unfamiliar faces. You knew how much you hated bein’ there. But I don’t think you actually knew how you got there, or why, or what was supposed to happen next. It kinda drew me to you. I wanted to understand it. And you gave me the weirdest look, too, when I stopped you. But once I got you outside, away from all the bullshit, you loosened up just a bit and I realized I was talkin’ to this smart, well-rounded, thoughtful guy who was just a little lost in the weeds.

I know you didn’t really care about me like that. I was just some jumped-up weirdo who could give you mint weed at a sweet price. But I still liked you… I dunno… other people see you differently when they care a whole lot, don’t they? I guess they see things about you that others can’t, or they know exactly what you could be when others don’t. They see stuff even you can’t see. It’s like a superpower, I think… my best superpower is probably makin’ girls giggle. I’ve got a lot of charm, wouldn’t you agree? Ha—anyway—stay safe on your trip, tell Her that I’ll miss her a lot, too—oh! Oh!

Fuck! That’s it. That little fucker is comin’ outside—he can’t resist his two am darts on the porch. God bless you, nicotine! Okay, uh, guess this is me hangin’ up on you. Later, Wonwoo!”

At that point, everything Wonwoo needed was packed. But he’d taken the additional time to complete Vernon’s voicemail, now sitting on the edge of his bed while staring out into the early, glimmering rain shower and the water droplets collecting against his window.

Then, Wonwoo glanced down at the laptop he had open.

He hadn’t written in… months. Not even months—it had been over a year since Wonwoo wrote. And, somehow, it felt good not to write.

It felt necessary to step away from the craft.

Besides, writing would always be there. Just because he hadn’t filled up a document on his computer with harmoniously arranged words, or penned anything down in the journal he used to scribble poetry in, that didn’t make him not a writer. In fact, it could be crucial to know when to step away from something—when to let go of an invisible weight keeping one from progressing. While he hadn’t thought about it in months, it floated to the surface of his mind that there may be something he should let go.

The unfinished book. 01.

Wonwoo deleted it. Simple as that.

Shoving the laptop into his shoulder-sling bag, Wonwoo made sure to knab his journal from the nightstand before he left, just in case anything did excite him with a crack of inspiration as he embarked on his newest chapter with you at his side. Rolling his suitcase hurriedly behind him, Wonwoo rushed out onto the street, feeling the rain graze his hair and skin, while you were leaned against the cab, arms folded and teeth anxiously raking over your bottom lip.

He peppered the cab driver in apologies while he helped shove the suitcase into the trunk.

“Liar—” you grumbled after sliding into the cab, undoing the buttons on your coat, “—you said one minute, not one lifetime.”

“I know, I know,” Wonwoo laughed, removing his glasses to rub off the mist and dew, “but that voice mail from Vernon distracted me.”

“Let me do it,” you said, taking his glasses with a sigh, “we should be fine. I know we’ll make it on time… I guess I’m just on edge.”

He watched you massage at the lenses gently with a sleeve. The driver climbed back into the cab, now pulling away from the pottery shop and driving toward the beam of light that sliced through the dense clouds, like the sun was handling a giant blade.

“Everything’s gonna work out, I promise… and I already told you that we’ll be staying with Bohyuk first, right? Him and Nari?”

Handing the glasses back to Wonwoo, you nodded.

“Yeah… god—I hope he likes me.”

“Oh, he will. You guys are pretty similar, actually.”

The look you gave him warbled slightly.

“What if that’s a bad thing? Every time you tell me a story about your brother, it usually involves you loathing him for something.”

“Those stories took place years ago.”

“But the feelings are still there, aren’t they?”

Wonwoo settled his hand over top yours, giving your fingers a soothing squeeze. He knew you wanted to make the perfect first impression. After all, first impressions were not something that could be easily taken back or erased, unless the people you were meeting were quite forgiving. And Bohyuk was fortunately the forgiving type.

It was only time that Wonwoo exercise the quality as well.

Leaning in close to your face, Wonwoo gazed into your eyes, watching their frantic nature become still like the surface of a calm pond.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, alright?” He murmured.

Huffing out an intense, long breath, you nodded.

“Alright… can I have a kiss, please?”

Lifting his hand to graze against the side of your cheek, he paused to admire your beauty for a moment, only to properly cup your face and push his lips to yours—which tasted sweet and balmy—before feeling you push back firm. He proceeded to give you another soft kiss for good measure, one that cured you to smile all fluttery and coy against his mouth until he was inevitably smiling, too.

In fact, Wonwoo only ever found himself smiling that hard when he was with you.

—END.

heyyyy :] ramble incoming...

first and foremost, ABOVE ALL ELSE, i just want to say thank you! i know this was a very, very long fic for me to be uploading on tumblr. this site is not the most fanfic friendly (or creation friendly for that matter) so stomaching the fact that this needed to be split up into so many parts was like a dagger to the heart! for those who decided to buckle up and lock into this journey, i honestly thank you so much <3 life was not always kind in the process of writing this (hence the fact it took me 2 years, plus some extra) but i was so dedicated to seeing this story through! a lot of the frustration i was feeling toward myself was funnelled into wonwoo's character, so this is quite personal :3

nonetheless, i hope there's something, even a single thing, someone else can take away from the story as well! both wonwoo and her as characters introduce their own unique themes--wonwoo (at the core) is more so about learning to let go in order to progress, whereas her is about using creative tools to help guide the search for identity. i think that writing has helped me learn a lot about myself (even uncomfy, icky things) so i wanted that to be represented through her.

of course, these are not the only things they stand for! but these are the elements i based their characters on, to which other concepts sprouted from. i also loved the idea of pairing someone as lost and misguided and emotionally stunted as wonwoo with this girl who seems so bossy and firm. at first he doesn't like it, but that was really what he needed to accept some of the flaws holding him back. idk if you're familiar with the EXCUSE ME! HE ASKED FOR NO PICKLES! meme but that's what comes to mind when i think of them xD

additionally: special shout out to vernon. he became a much bigger part of this story than i originally intended. he is in some ways wonwoo's foil. vernon knows he's flawed but that's sorta his strength and what makes him genuine. he witnesses wonwoo's entire journey, so at times he also feels like our role, the "reader" and gives wonwoo some wisdomy parting words without rly knowing it (but that's part of his charm <3 i don't want vernon's emotional intelligence to be underrated, which is also an ode to the conversation wonu & her have back in the museum. wonwoo knows there are different types of intelligence and emotionally he is lackinggg).

also small s/o to seokmin. SORRY! HAD TO DO IT!

this has been my slowest slowburn! i wasn't sure how late they were going to kiss. but i didn't want to force anything. i wanted to add the moment when i felt it was surely right! also, if you haven't yet listened to the playlist and you're curious, i recommend listening to the very last song, writer, by ellie goulding. i've been listening to that song for many years, and one day it hit me how coincidentally her lyrics overlap with some of the fic's storyline!

i think it adds a nice final touch <3

LASTLY!

upon contemplation, i will be uploading this fic to ao3 in the same chaptered format it's been posted here! i realize the convenience to bookmarking on that site (and it also doesn't give people's phones a heart attack when trying to read something lengthy) so i hope that appeases some of you who wish to reread with more leisure! i'll be under the username @/uglypluto!

i'll upload the final chapter (this chapter) to ao3 probably between late sunday & early monday.

THANK YOU x100! 💕

#seventeen scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen x reader #wonwoo x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo fanfic #svt scenarios #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen angst

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exlibrisseverus · 8 months

Text

The torn bond of friendship

The silence between us every time we meet makes my heart ache.

You avert your gaze just so you don't have to look me in the eye. I know that you don't hate me. But to be honest, I'd rather have your hate than your pity.

You wish things had gone differently. But I can't change for you the way you would like me to. Nevertheless, you are important to me.

(You always will be.)

[I tried to put myself in his shoes and that's how these few lines came about. The background in the illustration is a photo I took, it's the view from my window.]

The artist's commentary – psychological aspect/my two cents…

Nobody is perfect, no human being is.

Especially not adolescent teenagers who literally have almost no idea about life. Who lack empathy, compassion, maturity, experience and so many other things. All of us have certainly lost a friend at some point in our childhood or adolescence. Close friendships at a young age and the experiences associated with them can have a strong influence on our behavior later in life. All of a person's first intensive relationships with family, friends, etc., whether positive or negative, shape their world view and character immensely.

We can't expect a young person to be flawless and perfect. Maturity comes with years and experience. It is not uncommon for children and youth to be self-centered and egocentric, but that does not make them bad people. To a certain extent, selfishness is even important. As we grow up, we learn to act autonomously, make decisions and form our own opinions. It is clear that we can make mistakes during this process and possibly hurt others. We all make mistakes on our journey through life, that is part of growing up. That is a part of this life.

I have to remind myself each time that they were practically still children as at that time.

Sorry for my poor English, it’s not my native language. I do my best though. Thanks for reading 🖤

(Additional edit 10.02.2024 Tumblr confuses me a little bit, i was wondering why my previous image lost it’s quality after uploading. It took me too long to draw and i need to show the details. Anyways for better detailed view -> I’ve split the artwork. 😌)

#severus snape #severus snape fanart #lily evans #lily evans fanart #snape community #pro severus snape #snape fanart #illustration #harry potter fanart #snily #my art

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sleepsacked · 3 months

Text

for eternity, c.s.

+ college student!choi san x college student!afab!reader

+ part: 3/3 (this is all the previous parts put into one revised and extended part, so this CAN be read as a standalone!)

+ word count: 19.9k (english isn’t my only language so this is 90% edited to the best of my ability, i am so sorry for grammatical errors x)

+ tags: 18+, minors/ageless blogs dni! tags are below the cut, it’s a lot lol

+ summary: classic story of experienced reader corrupting innocent boyfriend who managed to end up together after being partnered up for a class project and explore their filthy fantasies together.

+ a/n: guys... i know. it's been two years since i uploaded on this story and trust me when i say there has not been a moment where i did not think about sitting down and uploading on here especially because i still get notifications of people re-blogging and liking the previous parts. with that being said, i revised the previous parts and fixed up my grammar and added bits of more plot to each along with adding what would have been stand-alone third part had i not decided to add all three/three and a half? (1, 2, 2.5, 3) parts together.

please show this some love if you can, and feel free to leave me any suggestions on who you wanna see me write for next... thank you all again for your extreme patience x

+ tags: semi-story building/plot, light humor, college au, virgin!san, experienced!reader, (tried to make it as gender neutral as possible), rest of atz making occasional appearance but mostly reader x san, clumsy/nerd!san, dry humping, grinding, panty stuffing? cum stuffing? hand.. grinding?, filthy makeouts, usage of pet names (babe/baby/love/sweet boy/pretty girl) a lot, teasing, sniffing..(?), vibrating dildo, body worship, hair pulling, cum play, size kink?kinda?, slight dom!reader x sub!san dynamic, slight serivce top san too lol, maybe dom san for a split second, nipple play, bed??humping??, cunnilingus, masturbation (m), panty usage(m) it'll make sense when you read lol, panty kink, begging, squirting, creampies yay, perv!san, slight corruption kink, imagination/dirty fantasy/sexuality exploration??, dirty talk, tongue play(?), whiny san yay, slight body image insecurity, slight relationship insecurity on san's part, reader is canonically on birth control ok, kinda fluffy, kinda realistic, reader and san have good communication okay, if i forgot anything lmk x

You and San had met in your graphics design class at the beginning of your third year of university, which was a class that had nothing to do with your major and was just some random filler class that fit into your schedule for some elective credits.

Although he had sat on the other side of the room, he had surely made a solid impression on you. When you’d see him stroll into class, you never failed to notice how his broad shoulders expanded as he fixed his bag from falling down his arm, or how his slim waist was accentuated by whatever pair of sweats he decided to wear that day. You also never failed to notice his slight resemblance between a fox and a cat, he was definitely mesmerizing to say the least.

It wasn’t until your professor assigned a partner project; and as if fate couldn’t have been anymore real- the two of you were paired together.

You had noticed that he hadn’t spoken much in class throughout the semester, listening intently to the professor’s lectures (or just really good at pretending), and occasionally getting up to use the bathroom. Because of these facts alone, you concluded that he was more on the reserved side of society and opted out for keeping to himself; finding a quiet peace in marching to the beat of his own drum… far from most of the guys you typically sought after.

You were familiar with guys like those who were in alpha tau zeta or beta sigma tau; the ones who were easy to bring to bed but awful to bring home to your parents.

“Hey, I’m Y/N. Looks like we’re partnered together,” you laughed lightly.

“San,” he lowered his head in a quick nod, gathering his backpack to place on the floor and scooted his chair to the side to welcome you. As you sat down, you stole a quick glance in his direction before situating yourself to move your focus to the professor and the instructions for the project that was about to take course over the next couple of weeks.

“Alright, well if there’s no more questions, you guys are free to go for the day. And again, please don’t wait ‘til the last minute to begin your projects. Make sure you and your partner are on the same page. Have a good weekend everyone,” your professor waved. As the class began to file out, you looked back at San, noticing how slow he was at making his way out.

“Are-”

“I-”

“You go ahead first,” you laughed lightly, taking note of San’s avoidance of eye contact and the light blush that began to creep up on his neck. He clutched his backpack tighter before letting out a sigh and finally meeting your eyes.

“I was just going to ask when you wanted to begin working on our project… I’m free on the weekends and I don’t have any classes on Fridays either,” his voice trailed off, his eyes averting to the wall behind you and then back to you again.

Oh, he is going to be the death of you.

You hummed. “Yeah, weekends work for me. No classes on Friday either so we can start tomorrow? You live on campus?”

“Yeah, I live in the Arts Hall,” San nodded.

“Really?” Your eyebrows raised, “I do too. Here. Lemme get your number and I’ll text you later and we can figure out a time to meet up! I have a meeting to go to that starts in 10 and it’s on the other side of campus,” you began to pull out your phone, opening up the keypad and handing it to San.

“Oh? Oh, yeah, okay, just text me whenever. I didn’t mean to hold you up,” he fumbled his words as his hand grazed yours after taking your phone from you. He typed his number and handed your phone back to you, you smiled as you took a quick glance at his contact name.

“san :3”

Cute, you thought to yourself as you gathered your belongings and got up from your seat.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m excited to start working on our project. See you around, San,” you looked at him one last time as you waved goodbye, walking out the door to head to your meeting.

You hadn’t texted San yet, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t been thinking about him the whole day. You were curious to know more about him, his shyness, how you never noticed that he lived in the same dorm hall as you. You figured it really wouldn’t be too difficult to talk to San and your curiosity was eating at you more than you liked to admit (it was definitely the raging hunger).

It was already past dinner, your meeting lasting longer then you had expected. You debated taking an Uber to that one pizza restaurant you’d been meaning to try out or to just head back to your dorm and make a bowl of ramen.

With San still on your mind as you decided on dinner plans, you realized you weren’t someone who was keen on taking the lead or being a more assertive person in a situation like this, so when you found yourself open San’s contact profile in your phone and hitting the call button, you were quite surprised.

As you were about to hang up after the first few rings you heard a faint greeting on the other end of the line.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Hi, I’m so sorry to be calling you right now… it’s Y/N-”

“Y/N? Oh, hi… hi… are you alright?”

Your chest squeezed at his sudden concern.

“Yes! Yes, I’m okay. Seriously, I’m sorry for calling so suddenly. I just got out of my meeting-”

“This late?”

“I know right… I just got out and I was about to head to this new pizza restaurant downtown and was wondering if you wanted to come with me. I know it’s a bit… weird considering we haven’t spoken to each other before today. But I figured we could talk about our project and set up a schedule to work on it or something? If you’re not busy right now, of course.”

You rambled, suddenly regretting even calling San in the first place and realizing that it was a bit awkward to invite San out to eat on a whim like this considering the circumstances.

There was a long pause.

“Actually, it’s okay if you can’t! I know it’s super late, and I called outta nowhere-”

“I’m down. Where are you at right now?”

“Passing the library actually...”

“That’s good, I’m on the 4th floor of the tech center, I’ll meet you at those benches in front of the library, yeah?”

“Uh… yeah, yeah, I’ll wait right here.”

San hummed, before hanging up and leaving you with your own thoughts as you walked back towards the benches and sat down, waiting patiently.

“How’s the practice for the showcase coming along?”

“Could be better, we’re still working on the chorus but can’t seem to mix the vocals right and it’s been pissing us off.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, you guys are perfectionists.”

“Well, of course we are Wooyoung! I’m sure you feel the same when you choreograph, right?”

“Okay, Yunho, that’s not even a good example.”

“What? It totally is! You can’t dance if the music is shit, so we have to make sure our music isn’t shit!”

“Mingi, shouldn’t you be worrying about, I don’t know, other shit?”

San laughed to himself, his fingers grazing across the keyboard as he finished typing up some discussion answers for one of his coding classes, doing his best to tune out most of the chatter that was happening amongst his friends.

His phone buzzed against the tabletop, his screen lighting up with an unknown number. His friends stayed enthralled in their conversation, paying him no mind as he answered his phone hastily.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Hi, I’m so sorry to be calling you right now… it’s Y/N-”

Wooyoung was the first to notice that San was on the phone, not even because he was necessarily trying to pay attention but he was about to ask if San wanted to join the rest of them heading to the cafeteria to grab a quick bite before it closed for the night.

“Hey guys, shh, shh,” Wooyoung whispered as he smacked Yunho’s arm. Yunho and Mingi’s voices died down as their attention fixed on San.

“That’s good, I’m on the 4th floor of the tech center, I’ll meet you at those benches in front of the library, yeah?” San finished with a hum before hanging up the phone, feeling three sets of eyes on him.

“So who was that?” Wooyoung’s lips fell into a coy smile, a tilt to his voice as he felt himself get giddy.

“Hm?”

“Don’t tell me…” Yunho’s hand slapped Wooyoung’s shoulder before giving it a hard grip, staring at San in disbelief. Mingi was the next to chime in, as if he felt the cue to get in on the joke.

“Finally, my man San, you shooting shots?”

San’s eyes closed, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose before letting out a soft sigh.

“It was one of my classmates, Y/N, she’s my partner for this project in my graphics design class. She called asking to grab dinner and talk about what direction we wanna go, nothing crazy,” San began gathering his belongings and stuffing as much as he could in his bag in one go before getting up and slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“Woah, woah, woah, kinda sounds like she’s interested, no?” Yunho wiggled his brows. San immediately shook his in disagreement, feeling the tips of his ears get hot.

“San, I mean this in like, the most loving way possible, but you almost never know when someone is interested in you and… well,” Wooyoung cleared his throat before continuing, “I think it kinda has to do with the fact that… you know… you’re a little bit of a late bloomer.” Wooyoung cupped his hands around his lips as he whispered the last couple of words in San’s direction.

“Alright!” San’s voice cracked, “On that note, I will see you guys tomorrow!”

“Be safe! Use protection!”

“To manhood!”

“Yeah! What they said!”

San continued to make way out of the building, not looking back at his friends as his face continued to heat up. The comments definitely made him nervous, he didn't think you were interested in him… right? You guys barely had a full conversation and only started talking this afternoon in class despite having been together the last month and a half in the same classroom. Was this how dating was like? Was this how people pursued each other? Was it not like best friends falling in love after years of knowing each other? I mean sure, yeah plenty of couples met in different ways, he was pretty familiar with romcoms and-

No! Focus! This is just about class, the project, getting familiar enough to get a good grade and moving forward to the next semester, no time for dating or romance, and certainly no time for sex.

San wasn’t too sure what happened next but suddenly he was lying on his back at the bottom of the stairwell, his bag barely cushioning his fall and hearing a faint yell of his name outside through the glass doors. Faint pattering against the concrete outside could be heard before the glass door swung open.

“San! Oh my god? Are you okay?” You kneeled next to him, awaiting his response.

All San could manage was a groan before he turned over on his side and slowly got up from the ground, reaching for his bag in the process. This definitely couldn’t be more embarrassing- actually, no, knowing him and his luck, it definitely could be more embarrassing in due time.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure? What even happened?”

“Um, actually, I don’t know…” his voice trailed off as he dusted off his clothing.

“What?” You laughed.

“Sorry, I mean, I think I was just lost in my head about something and must’ve missed a step.”

“Ah… lost in your head about anything in particular?” You moved to walk towards the door, reaching for the handle and letting San walk through first, his clumsy state a bit unpredictable for properly meeting up with each other.

“Thanks,” San quietly said as he walked through the glass doors and into the crisp, fall scenery that was draped prettily over the campus grounds. The trees began to lose their leaves and the colors that their foliage left painted on the ground was always the prettiest picture that San never got tired of.

“And no. Just regular thoughts roaming around in there, I guess.” You both continued to stroll down the path that led to the student parking lot, the soft crunch of leaves creating a comforting ambiance.

“Makes sense.” You paused under one of the light posts, the sun setting enough that the lights emitted a soft glow that accentuated all different types of contours on each of your faces.

“I can order the Uber, by the way. I wasn’t sure when you’d head down or what you wanted to do or anything but I can order it, I don’t think it’ll take long to get here,” You began mumbling as you reached for your phone in your sweater.

“Uber? We can just take my truck, no?”

“You have a truck?”

“Nothing fancy, trust me, it's an ‘06 model,” San laughed, wondering why it was so surprising he owned a truck. He motioned for you to follow as he continued the path down to the parking lot, you followed behind.

“But a truck?”

“What? A guy can’t own a truck?”

“No, it’s not that- I just mean, you don’t really seem like the truck kinda guy.”

San shrugged, “Gets me from place to place, plus she’s still kicking.”

San led the way to his truck that was parked conveniently in front of the entrance of the tech center.

“No way this truck has crank up windows,” You said in disbelief as you hopped in. “I haven’t seen these in like years, like years, San.”

He threw his head back as he laughed, giving you a shrug as you guys drove off with mindless chatter being shared amongst the both of you.

And that was how your relationship with San began; working as partners for a project (which you both aced) that soon led to hanging out at every free moment either of you had. Countless spontaneous dates throughout the course of those next few weeks of you inviting him out to eat dinner with you at that pizza joint. It wasn’t very much longer until San had finally asked you to be his romantic partner.

You were made aware of San’s inexperience, both in dating and intimacy, and honestly, it wasn’t something that was entirely concerning to you. You had a feeling that maybe his experience wasn’t… all there, and you were content with moving at a gradual pace, his pace. Quite truthfully, your pride and ego was well-fed knowing that you’d be the only one to share these experiences with your boyfriend for the first time.

Today, however, you had noticed a shift in San’s attitude and he was more clingy than normal; sticking to your side like glue whenever you went anywhere within your student living apartment. It started off with not wanting to let you get out of bed to use the restroom, clinging onto your waist tighter as you tried wiggling your way out of his arms and nuzzling his head in your neck with a low whine. Your head fell back against the mattress, letting out a sigh.

“Baby, what’s wrong, hm,” you stopped to look down at him as best as you could given your current state. You weren’t annoyed, by all means, but something was definitely bothering San and you were maybe just a little hurt that he was acting differently like this as a way to let you know. You wiggled around again, snaking your arm around his back and combing your fingers through the short hairs that were at the nape of his neck.

San nuzzled his head deeper into the crook of your neck, the feeling of his eyelashes fluttering against your sensitive skin giving you goosebumps.

“Nothing’s wrong… just- I don’t know. Just wanna be around you, s’all.” Sans lips grazed ever so lightly as he spoke against your skin.

You hummed in faux agreement, “Okay, whatever you say. Lemme get up and go pee, then I can make us something to eat and we can put on that one show you were telling me about the other day, yeah?”

San squeezed his arms around you tightly one last time, before he rolled over and laid against the bed, a pout forming on his lips.

“Fine, that sound’s good.”

You were bent over, looking in the fridge and wondering what the hell you were going to cook up. The groceries didn’t look promising, probably because there was a lack thereof, and it was enough to have you close the fridge and look for something in the pantry.

Suddenly, muscular arms wrapped around your body, one around your waist and the other around your upper chest. Light kisses were peppered and pressed against your shoulder and the back of your neck.

“Baby, can’t we just order delivery? I miss you and want you back in bed,” San voiced through his tiny ministrations on your neck. You couldn’t help but giggle at your boyfriend’s clinginess, this level of clinginess being a new side of him you had yet to see. However, you still tried your best to keep your composure, but his broad chest felt so warm against your back that you couldn’t help but indulge in his affection.

“You sure you're okay? You’re not running a fever? Or a concussion?” You tried to turn your head to face him, but his kisses were too distracting on your body and San always had a way of making you feel like he was worshiping you. His arms squeezed you tighter, pulling your ass to meet his crotch. He gave a little thrust and you felt his hard-on press into the clothed crevice of your ass. San gave you one last kiss before he rested his chin on your shoulder and looked at you with hooded eyes.

“Yes, love, I’m okay. I just miss you, “ San leaned forward, pressing your noses together before pushing his hips up into you again, his eyes fluttering softly before he looked back at you.

“So this is why you’re being like this, huh?” A small smile formed on your lips, quickly leaning in to peck San before pulling away. “You want me to help you out?” San turned his gaze away from you, the tips of his ears becoming hot and red, which you found more than endearing.

“Whatever you wanna do right now, I’m okay with, San. Just do whatever you think might feel good for you, okay?” You spoke softly, somewhat anticipating if your boyfriend was going to make any type of move. The farthest you had gotten with San was the occasional heavy make-out sessions with occasional groping- but he never reached to touch you where you wanted him most.

San released you from his grip, not speaking as he turned you around and gently grabbed your wrist. You looked at him, waiting to see if he was going to give any response but instead, he dragged you to the bedroom, leading you to stand at the edge of the bed before walking back to the door and quietly shutting it.

He turned back to look at you, his face and ears flushed before slowly walking towards you and standing in front of you sheepishly.

“You said I can do whatever I think feels good…?” San fidgeted with his fingers, pulling the inside of his cheeks between his teeth. You grabbed his hands, gently rubbing your thumb across the top.

“Whatever you want, baby. However you want, too… however you wanna use me, I trust you,” you brought one his hands to your lips, pressing gentle kisses before opening his palm and pressing your cheek against him. You heard him gulp as you briefly glanced down and noticed the tent in his sweatpants begging for some friction, alongside the faintest spot of pre-cum forming.

“May you bend over the bed?” He spoke softly as he looked at you, eyes glossed over with lust.

You smiled and nodded, lifting your head from his palm. Before you began to turn around to bend over the edge of the bed, you stood on your tip-toes, kissing the round little tip of San’s nose before you quietly cooed at him.

“Only because you asked me so kindly,” you placed a light kiss on his lips. You caught the way his nose scrunched as he fought back a smile. He knew you loved how well-mannered he was.

You turned around and bent over the edge of the bed, your clothed-ass on display for San. You weren’t sure what he had in mind as you laid in this position, but before you could ponder too long you felt cool hands push your shirt up a little so your waist was now exposed to the cold air and before San. You could feel your lover’s body heat behind you as he began to position himself closer to you. Soft massages kneaded their way into your hips and you couldn’t help but rest your forehead on your arm as you tried your best to look back and get a good view of San.

From your peripheral, you could see how timid he was. He stared down at your ass, lip between his teeth and stepping just right to get the angle he wanted behind you. The grip of his massages became harder before his hands stilled and you felt him roll his hips into your ass.

The pressure of his heavy, clothed-cock pressing into your ass had your mouth running dry. It had been awhile since you had sex, of course respecting San’s choices into wanting to take it slow (which you also had wanted to as well, thinking that the wait would most definitely be worth it). For some reason though, the idea of not going all the way right now felt far more intimate than the act itself and that familiar feeling of warmth rushing to your core was making your body become hot and bothered quick, insanely quick.

San hadn’t moved, just resting his weight against you, hips pressed firmly into your ass. His breaths were deep and slightly heavy as you did your best at turning your body to get a better view of him; trying to take in the way his cheeks were flushed and how his mouth was red and puffy from how hard he was biting it. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the way his straining cock met the curves of your ass perfectly.

“You’re doing good, baby. Just do whatever you think feels good,” You pushed your hips back against him, hearing him let out a sigh. “You know I'll be good for you, San.”

San let out a loud whine, running his hands up your back and raising your shirt in the process before lightly scratching his nails back down and hooking his fingers into your waistband.

“Y/N, can I- is it- is it okay if I take off your pants?” San rolled his hips against your ass again and you could tell he was trying to have some self-restraint, as if not to come too soon.

“Yes, please, fuck,” you groaned. San slowly rolled your pants down over the curve of your ass, pushing himself off you just enough to get them down your legs and helping you get them completely off before kicking them away from the bed.

“My underwear-“

“I know just- just let me,” San re-positioned himself behind you and when you turned your head to glance behind you, you noticed that San had also taken off his bottoms, only leaving him in his briefs and his sleep shirt which was mostly unbuttoned, leaving the expanse of his chest exposed enough to see the pink flush.

You turned back to rest your forehead against your arm, anticipating the feeling of San's heavy (and now more thinly layered) cock against your ass.

You felt the bed dip on the side of your head, you turned to see San’s hand gripping the duvet as his other hand found contact with your hip again. He rolled his hips into you and as he did so you felt your underwear shift up and put tension on your clit. San soon fell into a steady pace of grinding his hips against your ass, occasionally leaning down to place kisses on your shoulder and suck and nip at the back of your neck.

“Y/N, baby, you feel so good like this,” San nipped at your ear, letting out a soft moan when he looked down at where the swells of your ass slightly jiggled every time he rolled his hips.

“Yeah? Feels good?” You turned your head to look at him as best as you could, almost all his body weight was on you as he began to rut his hips against your ass. You pouted your lips at him, silently pleading for the feeling of his lips on yours. He leaned down and indulged in you, lazily moving his lips against yours. In the midst of kissing, you caught his tongue with your lips and began sucking lightly. You felt San’s hips stutter and he moaned loudly with his tongue still trapped between your lips. San suddenly pulled away, his hair matted against his forehead, shirt ruffled and lips puffy. There were traces of drool going down his chin and the idea of kissing him until he became a wet, whiny mess had your mind reeling.

“Something wrong?” You looked up at San, glancing down at the now more noticeable wet spot on his briefs, a mixture of your desire and his.

“Nothing, it’s just if I come, I wanna look at you. Flip over for me,” San placed his hands on your hips, “please,” shooting you a cheeky smile that had you giggling.

Once you flipped over, San positioned himself to where one of his legs was nestled between your thighs and pressed deliciously against your core. His head found purchase in your neck, attaching his lips and leaving love bites everywhere he could.

“You know, I've been trying not to come fast this whole time,” San breathed into your neck. “I’m just wondering how good it’s gonna be when we actually fuck,” he lifted his head to take a good look at you.

He hadn’t realized how fucked out you actually were and it was a mental image he wanted to keep stored in his head for as long as he could. This time you were the one getting shy, the idea of San fucking you right now, eager and clumsy, was too tempting. Your panties were sticky and truthfully it was starting to get a bit uncomfortable, but San had moved his attention back to your neck, softly rutting against your hip bone which had his thigh rubbing against your clit. You involuntarily rolled your hips against his thigh, letting out a feathery moan.

San’s head snapped up from your neck, looking down at you with furrowed brows as he pressed his thigh harder into your clothed-heat. Your eyes squeezed shut as you let out another moan, head turning to the opposite side from San in embarrassment.

“San-“

“I want you to do what feels good too,” his hand grabbed your chin, gently pulling your face to look back in his direction again. His stare was too much, his eyes averting from yours to your lips and back to yours before he moved one finger to the tip of your mouth.

As if on instinct, you opened and welcomed his index finger, gently sucking and rolling your tongue around the length while doing your best to maintain eye contact.

San's eyes were solely focused on how your lips were so perfectly wrapped around his finger as the rest of his hand maintained a semi-hard grip on either side of your cheeks.

“Fuck, I can’t do this baby, I wanna come on you. Please, can I come on you?” San’s voice quivered as his eyes made their way back up to yours. With your mouth still occupied, you nodded, moaning around his finger as a means of saying yes.

He took his finger from your mouth, gently wiping it on the hem of his shirt before reaching for his shirt collar and swiftly removing it from his body and throwing it at the foot of the bed.

“It was starting to get too hot for that. You feeling okay?” San spoke, throwing a quick glance at you before he shuffled around on the bed and placed his hands on your knees to spread your legs to make room for him.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” You shifted, moving your legs around so he could slot himself between you. It took you a minute to realize that San was more bare than you, something that rarely happened. San wasn’t shy or insecure about his body, at least you didn’t seem to get that impression. You knew he took good care of himself and his physique, working out as often as he could in between study sessions or dance practices. Yet, you had come to the conclusion that maybe he just wasn’t as comfortable being shirtless in a lounge setting than you had initially thought.

“Maybe, but you didn’t answer me. How are you feeling?” San laid more of his body weight on you and instinctively you brought your hands up to feel the soft flesh of his chest.

“Feeling like I'm gonna overheat in this thick ass shirt but I also don’t wanna take it off.”

His gaze softened, placing pecks across your face. He started with your forehead, leading to your left cheek and then your right. As your eyes fluttered shut, he gently placed kisses on top of your eyelids, following down your nose to your chin and then ending at your lips.

“You’re beautiful, baby. And I'll tell you a hundred times a day- no! a hundred times an hour if i have too.”

“Can I wear your shirt?” You smiled sheepishly.

His eyebrow twitched before he began to frantically nod his head, scrambling across the sheets to bring it up to you. You sat up enough to slip your shirt off and quickly replace it with San’s with ease. Thankfully, San wore pajama sets so the shirt was thin enough to not overwhelm you. San reached up to your chest, unbuttoning a few buttons on his sleep shirt that revealed just the right amount of cleavage for him to mess with.

Once settled back on top of you, he shifted his weight so that his cock laid right between your folds. the wet stains on both of your underwear making the fabric feel much thinner.

“Fuck, Y/N,” San placed one last kiss before looking down between where your bodies met, rolling his hips with purpose against your clit. The friction of the wet fabric and the pressure of the tip of his cock rubbing deliciously against your sensitive bud made you feel like you were going insane and soon enough you found yourself rolling your hips with his.

“San, baby, you’re doing so good for me, you know that,” you moaned, wrapping a hand in his hair and gently tugging. He groaned, this time pulling back far enough to slam his hips against yours.

You moaned as your back arched slightly off the bed- you weren’t sure what had come over San, but his energy had changed so much that you had forgotten he was inexperienced.

“I'm so good for you, huh?” San said through clenched teeth, rolling his hips harder and faster. This new found discovery of San enjoying praise did something for you, making your mind reel of all the intimate endeavors that would take place in the near future.

“So good you’re gonna let me come on you? Let me come all over your panties and stuff it back up in that little pussy of yours?” He was looking at you now, bottom lip glossed with saliva from sucking it between his teeth.

“Shit,” you raised your legs higher as you spread them out more, “are you sure you’ve never done this, San? I didn't know you could be so mouthy.”

San hooked one of your legs under his arm as he shifted to get a better angle to rub his cock between you.

“You’re the one and only, baby,” he laughed, “Didn’t know I had it in me either.”

You laughed, before wrapping an arm behind his neck and pulling him down towards you for a kiss. This one was by far the messiest kiss you had ever shared with San. As he rutted against you, his lips moved against yours sloppily. Thin trails of spit formed around your mouths as you sucked and licked against each other's tongues- San pulled away just enough to speak.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” his thrusts against your clit became rougher, the fabric of your underwear rubbing against you hard. You wrapped one leg around his waist, putting pressure on his lower back and pulling him closer to your body.

“I think I’m gonna come, Y/N, oh, oh fuck-“ you looked up at San, fingers still wrapped in his hair. his brows furrowed together, mouth falling into a small, cute ‘o’ shape, feeling his hips began to stutter.

“I know, baby, go ahead,” you moved your hips against his, “you did so good. Go ahead and give it to me.”

That seemed to set San over the edge, a high-pitched whine coming from his lips and you soon felt a warm liquid fall on top of your mound. You looked down to see San still coming, hot-spurts making their way through his briefs, the mental image of him coming inside and milking him dry making your mind reel. You moaned, bringing your hand up to his cheeks and pulling him forward in a lazy kiss.

You felt San’s hand make its way to the top of your waist band as he pulled away from you and looked down.

“I wasn’t joking about stuffing you with this Y/N,” San wiped at some of his come from your underwear with his middle finger before bringing it lower to your clothed-entrance. He prodded at the wet fabric, rubbing his come at where your hole was clenching eagerly to feel some type of release. You felt him push lightly against you, rubbing in circles his come-covered finger before applying more pressure. He quickly swiped up more before going back to your entrance and pushing his fingers inside you as best he could with your underwear still creating a barrier between the two of you. Your head fell back against the sheets and your hips moved lightly against his finger.

“San,” you moaned as a hand reached down to his wrist, holding it steady as your hips moved with more fervor. You felt his hand pull back as he shifted down to be face first with your pussy. Just as you were about to pout at the loss of contact, a harder pressure was applied. You glimpsed down through hooded eyes, taking your lip between your teeth as you saw San looking back up at you to gauge your reaction.

This time his palm was pressed against you, cupping gently and moving up and down slightly as if he were giving you a massage.

“Grind against me, y/n,” San spoke softly, turning his head and pressing soft kisses against the inside of your thigh. He pressed his palm harder against your clothed-heat, turning his attention back to you. Your hips moved on their own accord, the fabric continuing to pull and rub against your clit. Breathy moans filled the room and San used his free hand to rub gently into your thighs and waist, occasionally reaching up to your chest and grabbing roughly through your (his) shirt.

You felt his hand pull away again, only to be quickly met with a light slap, a jolt rushing through your body as you let out a gasp. Your hand reached for the duvet, twisting lightly in your palm as you craved for that feeling again.

“Harder, please, harder,” your eyes squeezed shut as you moved your hips closer to San’s face, your way of asking for some release. The knot in your stomach began to coil tighter, waiting to be pushed over the edge. San dug the heel of his hand against your clit, moving softly as you moved your hips at your own desired and eager pace.

“Oh- oh fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum,” your hand made way to find grip in San’s disheveled hair, grabbing at the base of his locks and tugging with just enough force. In the haze of pleasure, you could make a distinction of moans that weren’t your own and you had just enough time to look down in between your legs to see San with his eyes shut and eyebrows furrowed and he let out a whine. His hand pressed harder against your clit one last time before the tension in your stomach snapped and your hips stuttered against his palm.

San moaned with you, keeping his hand pressed against you as you rode out your orgasm.

“That's it, want you to give it all to me,” he turned his head against your thighs again, placing small kisses and bites along the expanse of the fleshy skin. The lingering feelings of your orgasm soon finished and you’d fallen into a comfortable daze, loosening your grip in San’s hair and softly running your fingers through it instead. Your eyes began to flutter, forgetting about the stickiness in your panties. You snapped to your senses when you felt San move forward, still between your thighs and closer to your clothed crotch.

He inhaled where you felt the wetness of both yours and his release was mixed together, letting out a low moan before he moved back up the bed so he was directly above you.

“You are such a perv for doing that, by the way,” you laughed as you ran your hands across his chest, taking note of the flush that was creeping up his neck.

“Hey,” he whined, leaning down to nuzzle into your neck. “You said I could do whatever I thought felt right,” you could hear and feel the pout in his voice.

“I didn't say I minded you being a little perv-y, if I wasn’t so sleepy right now I might try getting off again,” your arms wrapped around his back, nails lightly scratching up and down as you felt more of his body weigh against you.

“Is that so?” San spoke softly as his lips sucked love bites into your neck.

“It is,” you moved your head to the side, allowing more room for him to kiss and suck at your neck. “You know you sound cute when you’re all whiny, San.”

“Babe,” his voice dragged out as he rolled off you, embarrassed. Your laugh rang throughout the room as you turned to your side and reached out for San before he could make it too far out of reach.

“You know I'm teasing you, baby. Now can we clean up real quick before I pass out over here?” you placed a quick kiss on San’s lips before you began to get up from the bed, the stickiness between your legs becoming too unbearable.

San followed behind you quickly, grabbing your waist and pulling you in his arms.

“Thank you,” he whispered against your hair as he hugged you a little more tightly. You smiled against his chest as you wrapped your arms around his waist, this man was definitely going to be the death of you.

It hadn’t been very long since your previous intimate interaction with San, and you had noticed that he was much more keen on expanding and expressing his sexual interests with you. He was more clingy, and confident, and was constantly finding ways to express his sweet affections towards you, especially in the confines of your shared apartment.

He asked questions constantly about your own sexual interests, which you found both cute and endearing as most times (all the time) he’d stutter and get all flustered at the thought of even saying such crude things aloud so casually.

So today, when he asked you about your own self-pleasure experiences, you weren’t entirely caught off guard.

You both laid in the living room, sprawled on the couch, your head in his lap as his fingers softly scratched against your scalp. He was focused on something on his phone as you felt your eyes get heavier with the comfort of having your hair played with, the noise from the television being the right amount of white noise to allow you to doze off peacefully. San set his phone down on the arm rest, leaning forward slightly to get a glimpse of you.

“Babe, you still up?” San spoke softly, removing his hand from your head and bringing it to caress your cheek. You hummed, snuggling your head into his lap to get more comfortable.

“Hm… yeah, I’m up,” you muttered, your eyes finally blinking slowly before you shut them completely. You felt him lean back against the couch, hand still resting on your cheek, his thumb slowly running back and forth.

“Well if you’re up, like up up- awake up, then I have a question. Hm… something I’m curious about.” San spoke slowly, as if he was thinking of the right way to word his sentences so as to not come across a certain way. You nodded, having enough sense to know that your boyfriend wanted to talk to you seriously, forcing your eyes open as much as the sleepiness would allow.

“I’m up, I'm up… what is it, hm?” A silence followed as you waited for San to speak, you shifted in his lap so you were looking up right at him. his eyes focused on the television, but in a way that was zoned out and not actually paying attention to the content that was displayed on the screen.

“San?” your attention on him completely now, taking note of the way his eyebrows were furrowed together as his hand had slipped from your cheek amidst your shifting and was now lying comfortably across your neck. Hearing your voice snapped him out of his little daydream as he looked down out at you, the tips of his ears catching a blush.

“Oh, yeah. Um… I was just curious about- like- how do I say- uh,” his voice trailed off as he averted his attention back to the television. You waited expectantly, having an idea where this conversation might be leading to.

“Go on,” you spoke softly.

“Have you ever… touched yourself?” San whispered, as if speaking too loudly would get him scolded by the gods above. You couldn’t help but laugh, getting up from his lap and sitting up again on the couch to face him. Sleep was no longer something on your mind as your boyfriend never failed to catch your attention in conversations like this. He pouted, avoiding your eyesight and fidgeting with his fingers in his lap.

“Sorry baby, I don't mean to laugh. You’re just too cute when you get like this,” you leaned forward to place a quick kiss on his cheek before you leaned back and answered him properly.

“Yes, I have touched myself before. Who’s asking?” you teased.

San shot you a quick glance before facing forward again, shifting to sit up straighter. He cleared his throat before speaking once again.

“With a toy? Have you- uh- ever touched yourself with a toy?” His cheeks flushed as he moved his hands higher in his lap, crossing his legs. Your eyebrows raised, a slight smile forming on your face. You scooted closer to him, laying your head on his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his bicep.

“Yes and no. I had like... one of those little bullet vibrators a long ass time ago that Heejin got me as a joke but ended up throwing that shit away ‘cause… well… it was a bullet vibrator,” you laughed, leaning your head further into his space.

“After that, it crossed my mind to maybe get actual toys. Like a vibrating dildo or a butt plug or something but it’s hard finding good sites that sell that shit discreetly and adult shops are just so… I feel too awkward,” your voice trailed, looking up to see San looking back down at you, waiting for you to finish your thoughts.

“You know how you see those videos of coffee shop baristas and they’re like ‘what your coffee order says about you’ or ‘what you look like based on your coffee order’ and it's a bunch of stereotypes that are lowkey kinda true? Yeah, I feel like that’s what would happen if I went to a sex shop. I mean, I think my kinks are pretty tame compared to extremists- at least I think they are- but… still it’s just so awkward,” you physically cringed.

San nodded, laughing lightly at the comparison you gave between coffee shops and sex shops. You reached up to place your hand on his cheek and turned him to face you.

“Are you asking me because you wanna get one?” You smiled mischievously.

“Well, you see, I was asking ‘cause, you know-“ San fumbled his words.

“We can if you want… I don't really mind. Is that what you were looking at on your phone?”

San nodded, reaching for his phone again, and stealing a quick glance at you before unlocking it and leaning into you so you both had a clear view of his screen.

The next hour was spent between looking at options before deciding on a generic vibrating dildo, deciding that you could upgrade later if need be. The estimated delivery time was said to be a week, so to your surprise at checking the mail room downstairs three days later with a package, was exciting to say the least.

On the way back to your room, you pulled your phone out, opening your chat with San.

y/n: bb look!

y/n: 1 file attachment

y/n: it just came in the mail... ;-)

y/n: tbh i'm surprised it got here so fast?? then again it says it came from that one town we drove thru on the way to my parents so ig it wasn’t that far??

“Hold on guys, gimme one sec,” San panted, breaking away from his friends and their current dance session.

“Aw shit, Mr. loverboy over here gotta answer to his girl,” Yunho teased, nudging Wooyoung as they both laughed amongst themselves.

San shot them both a teasing glare before picking up his phone and opening your messages. As he was getting ready to hit send, another message from you was delivered and soon after a photo attachment.

y/n: 1 file attachment

y/n: san omg

y/n: why does this thing look huge

y/n: its kinda cute tho good job picking it out

y/n: baby hurry up and get home plsplsplsplpslspsl need u nowww

“Whatcha looking at?” Wooyoung chirped, swinging his arm around San's shoulders and leaning towards his phone. Before San could push Wooyoung away, he was already opening his mouth.

“Damn! Is that a dildo? Since when did you get all freaky on us, man? Coulda sworn you were still a virgin!” Wooyoung grabbed his phone, clicking on the image you sent. Your hand was delicately wrapped around the base of the dildo, which was an opaque purple shade (color choice courtesy of San). Your hands did the toy no justice, because you were right- it did in fact look huge.

“Ay man, gimme my phone,” San said in his most assertive voice he could muster, not even bothering to panic or make frantic moves at Wooyoung- knowing how his friend was. It didn't help that his cheeks were tinted with a light blush and he could feel his cock stirring in his sweats at the thought of you begging for him to come home so you guys could get play around.

“Hey, what happened?” Yunho came up to San and Wooyoung, looking between the two men. San’s phone pinged again with another message from you and Wooyoung took a quick glance, smirking, before handing the phone back to San.

“Well, our Sannie boy here seems to have gotten a bit mischievous these days, Yunho. I think we should wrap up practice early today, let him get back home to his girl,” Wooyoung said as he looked back at a confused Yunho.

San looked down at his phone quickly, wondering what could’ve possibly gotten Wooyoung to say such a response.

y/n: 1 file attachment

y/n: can’t wait to play w my sweet boy <3

The picture was of you already in bed, one of San’s shirts with some cute but simple black lace panties. Your knees were bent and the dildo was laying between your thighs as if to make it appear like you were wearing a strap-on.

San's eyes went wide, his ears feeling hot, and his stomach flipping knowing that one of his friends was well-aware about the kind of activities you and him were planning on having tonight.

“Oh yeah? I was actually planning on cutting practice early anyways. Mingi texted me asking if I could stop by the studio for some feedback on some of his and Joong’s songs for that showcase in a couple weeks,” Yunho eyed San carefully, who was staring at his phone screen intently. Wooyoung laughed as he caught Yunho's confused expression towards San.

“Alright, well I'm out then! I'll catch y’all later! I gotta meet up with Jongho and Yeosang for one of our CompSci classes,” Wooyoung headed for the door, grabbing his jacket and bag from the rack. “Oh and San, one more thing,” Wooyoung turned around, waiting for San to look up at him and properly acknowledge him. San's attention averted to Wooyoung, waiting for him to speak.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn't do... and trust me, there’s not a lot out there I wouldn't,” he shot San a wink before slipping out the door.

“That guy, man,” Yunho laughed, shaking his head.

“Well, I'm gonna head out? Just text in the group chat when you wanna meet up again, you know when I'm free. Or let Seonghwa know,” San spoke quietly, his mind still reeling on the fact that you were home alone right now, horny, waiting for him.

The feeling of his cock being constrained tightly against the band of his boxers turned into an aching sensation- god, he just wanted to be with you already.

“Yeah, I'll text you later,” the two men nodded at each other. San made his way to the door, and just before he had the chance to exit, Yunho called out to him.

“Ya!”

San turned around, looking expectantly at Yunho.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn't do.” Yunho smiled, waving San off.

“Shut up, Yunho.” San laughed, giving him the middle finger and shaking his head.

And with that, San slipped out of the practice room, making his way to his car.

You were laid in bed, scrolling mindlessly between social media outlets, distracting yourself enough as you waited for San to get home from dance practice.

[new notifications]

my bb: on my way home now, my love

my bb: ur kinda insane btw

my bb: sending pictures like that while im out

my bb: the guys ended practice early, had some other stuff they needed to do

my bb: ill be home in 5

You smiled reading the messages, excited to see your boyfriend after you’d both been busy with classes and any other extracurricular activities you guys were involved in, but even more so knowing that you were going to be able to try out your new toy.

When San had arrived home, you were sprawled out on your stomach, a blanket draped over your lower half, the dildo and your phone momentarily forgotten. The faint sound of music flooded the room, your eyes closed as you quietly sang along.

San was true to his word because 5 minutes later he was entering your room, jacket and shoes already off, pulling his shirt over his head and discarding it to the chair tucked under your desk. The bed dipped as you felt a hand lay across your back, opening your eyes to welcome San laying down next to you, shirtless, in the bottoms he wore to practice and sweaty hair.

“Hi,” you spoke softly, shifting to face San as a hand reached up to cup his cheek. Your thumb ran along the skin, his eyes fluttering at your soft touch.

“How was your practice, hm?”

“It was fine. Probably one of our better ones in a while so I’m kinda pissed it ended earlier than I expected, but I'm home now so I’m not complaining.” He finished his thought with a kiss to the tip of your nose as his hand was rubbing up and down along your back.

“Well, I'm glad your home ‘cause that means I get to take all your attention.”

“Hm, so where is it? Where’s the- uh, you know…”

You smiled at San getting flustered over his words, leaning back to feel around the bed before you finally lifted the blanket to reveal the cute little toy. You reached for it, putting it between you and San as you looked back at him expectantly.

“Right here! Isn’t it cute?”

You rotated the toy in your hands, there wasn’t much to admire apart from the color and thickness and the handle with the buttons at the bottom. San’s cheeks were flushed as his hands traveled to your waist, gripping firmly.

“Yeah.. yeah it is,” he nervously laughed. “Did you... already put batteries in it?”

“Mhm, but I haven’t tested it out yet. I was waiting for you to get home.”

You pressed the tip of the toy into San’s pectoral, slightly shifting your hand around to press the power button at one of the lower settings, a faint buzzing echoing in your ears. San began to breathe heavier, his grip on your waist loosening as his eyes screwed shut.

“What… what are you doing?” San sighed, eyes opening slightly as he looked down at you.

“Do you trust me?” your hand stilled.

San nodded.

“Wanna hear you say it, baby. Do you trust me?”

“Yes, fuck, I trust you. I trust you so much, please." San's eyes screwed shut again. He didn’t know what he was begging for, he just wanted something. Since he’d left the studio, he’d been fighting down his boner the whole ride home, wanting to wait for you to play with him. It felt as though every bone in him was going to snap if he didn’t get some form of release, and fast.

You used your free hand to lightly push him on his back, soon adjusting yourself to swing your leg over his waist. You leaned forward, pressing a light kiss against his lips before you rested your forehead against his.

You had nudged your nose against his softly, a butterfly kiss.

“Then lemme take care of you, sweet boy.”

San let out a low moan, bucking his hips against you. You leaned back, pressing your weight against his cock, his chest heaving up and down quickly, arms tense at his sides. You let out a breathy laugh at his nervous reaction, suddenly feeling your own chest tighten with nerves. This was really happening, huh?

“Just relax, baby. I got you, okay?” You ran the toy that was still vibrating slightly down the middle of his chest, stopping right above his naval.

“If you don’t like something, promise you’ll tell me, yeah?”

“Yes, yes, Y/N I’ll tell you, just- just please-” you looked below where your crotch was on top of San. He still had his practice sweats on, his cock straining so hard in the confinement.

“Is it okay if I take these off you?”

You switched the vibrator off before tossing it to the side, getting up to stand at San’s feet which were hanging off the end of the bed. A quick yes was enough confirmation to slide his sweats off, once off your hand reached to his briefs, stopping just as your fingers hooked on either side of the band.

“These too?”

Another quick yes from San allowed him to be laying completely naked in front of you. His cock sprung, slapping against his naval, red and leaking with pre-cum- begging for some friction.

You crawled back up the bed, hands resting on either side of San’s head. You reached to his forehead to brush the hair that was beginning to curtain his eyes, feeling the sweat that was starting to form at his hairline. You leaned down, pressing your lips to the spot between his eyebrows and leaving a trail of kisses down to his cheeks and jawline before making a final round to his lips. His arms wrapped around your back, pulling you flush against his chest as his tongue slipped in your mouth.

You both stayed like that for god knows how long, lazily making out and groping one another, enjoying each other’s presence to the fullest. San pulled away from you, looking up at you with swollen, wet lips and flushed cheeks.

“Baby, I love kissing you so much, you know that, but my dick is so hard right now that I feel like I'm about to pass out,” he whispered, his hands pushing your shirt up and then making their way down to the swell of your ass.

You laughed, lifting yourself off of him to sit yourself in his lap but he stopped you before you could get yourself comfortable and situated.

“Wait! Wait... um- can you- would you mind taking these off?” San asked sheepishly, fingers hooking ever so lightly in the waistband.

You felt yourself clench around nothing, you and San hadn’t been naked in front of each other like this. Not in such a lewd position at least, so the thought had your mind and body raging with nerves and excitement. You moved quickly to rid your panties from your legs, your essence following along and smearing on the inside of your thighs. San's eyes followed your movements and in the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of his dick twitching against his stomach.

You climbed back on the bed, legs on either side of San’s hips, lowering yourself so the underside of San's cock was wedged between your pussy.

“Fuck,” San whined, hands finding purchasing on your waist again and making their way under the front of your shirt to grope at your bra-less chest.

You were embarrassed at how turned on you were, but before you even had enough time to register that, your hips moved along San’s length. Your slick made your movements easier, stopping yourself just enough that your clit teased against the head of his cock. You felt San’s index finger flick against your hardened nipple, your hips stuttering as you let out a breathy moan.

“Baby, you’re gonna be the death of me you know that?” You moaned again as San brought his thumb up to pinch your nipple. “So cute, so good for me. Always treat me so good, fuck, got such a pretty cock too.”

You reached to your side, grabbing the dildo and turning it on low. San's eyes followed your movement, you pressed the tip of the toy to slit San's cock. His body jolted under you, his mouth fell lax as his stomach tensed. Your free hand scratched lightly at his stomach, your other pressed the toy harder against the slit of his cock as you began to softly grind your clit along his length.

“Oh- oh my god- fuck,” San’s body shook as he let out a string of profanities. “It feels too good, y/n. I think I'm gonna come- fuckfuckfuck.”

“Go ahead, baby. You deserve it, go ahead and make a mess.”

You moved your hips against his length faster, loving the way his stomach and thighs were flexing underneath you.

“I’m coming, oh fuck, oh-” San’s arms flew over his face as he let out a long whine.

Hot, milky spurts painted his stomach and chest beautifully, a little bit shooting up underneath his chin and along his neck. you slowed your hips, taking in how fucked out your boyfriend looked like this.

You turned off the toy, setting it down next to you as you reached up to San, removing his arms from his face. His eyes were barely open, his whole face flushed as his bangs were matted against his forehead.

“Hey, you okay?” You whispered softly, planting a soft kiss to his lips. San hummed in confirmation, a soft smile forming on his face.

“Good, lemme clean you up real quick.” You leaned back, swiping your finger at some of the mess on San's stomach and bringing it to your lips. To your surprise, San’s cock twitched ever so slightly, still red and half-hard.

You got up to grab the towel from your desk chair, walking back and softly wiping at San’s stomach, chest, and neck. Once finished, you settled in bed next to him, laying on your side.

“You didn’t come?”

You shook your head no as your hand reached up to play with his hair.

“But don’t worry about it. Tonight was about you, okay?”

San pouted, and in a blink of an eye he was hovering over you. both of his hands planted on either side of your head, his half-hard cock weighing down against your mound.

“Lemme take care of you... I wanna play with you too.”

He sat back on his heels, his hands moving to your knees and spreading your legs apart so your pussy was on full display. Your breath hitched as you saw him reach for the toy, his hands twisting it around to maneuver the buttons on. The buzzing sound filled the room again and soon you felt a pressure against your clit.

Moaning, you looked down where San’s hand lay between your legs holding the toy. He was unsure what to do, it was clear on his face. You reached down to wrap your hand around his wrist.

“Here. Like this.”

You moved the toy along your folds; San shifted on the bed so he was now laying on his stomach, his face adjacent from your pussy, teeth between his lips as he watched intently how you moved his hand around to pleasure yourself.

He turned the setting up a notch with his free hand, before moving it to grab underneath your thigh and placing it over his shoulder.

“Is it okay if I put- hm... put it in?” He asked, placing a quick kiss on your thigh before he turned his attention back to your fluttering hole.

“Yes, please baby, please put it in.”

You moaned as his hand moved the toy just right and the tip of the toy prodded at your entrance. The grip San had on your thigh tightened as the toy pushed its way in slowly.

You couldn’t see, too enthralled in your own pleasure, but San’s hips had begun to rut against the bed. He’d been imagining his own cock in place of the toy, easing into you, stretching you out, making you shake, maybe even cry with how good it all fucking felt. He was eager to make you climax, so he continued to push the toy into you, giving the bed beneath him a particularly hard thrust as well.

Your walls fluttered against the toy, it’d been awhile since you’d felt so full. You’d touched yourself before but the width and length of your fingers was far different compared to how the toy felt inside you. Even far more different when it was your lover who was fucking you with it.

Your hand slid up your shirt, grabbing at your breasts as the other went to pull at San’s hair.

“Feels so full.” You moaned, your hips moving at the same rhythm of San’s hand.

“Wish it was your cock making me feel good, want it. Want it so bad, baby.”

You were close, so fucking close.

San began to push the toy deeper in you all while kissing and biting at your thigh.

“Fuck- faster.”

The grip on San’s hair tightened. The tension you felt in your belly ready to snap at any given moment.

“Like that?” San whispered, his hand pushing the toy in and out of you.

“Yes- don’t stop. please, please baby don’t fucking stop. I’m gonna come-” You squirmed along the bed, trying to move your hips along with the perfect rhythm that San had created.

You felt him press your hips down to still you, his head moving forward as you felt his lips place a feathery kiss to your clit before giving it a harsh suck. You finally snapped.

“Oh fuck I’m coming- fuck! I’m coming.” You whined as your legs tried closing in around San to snap shut.

San didn’t let up on the sucking, still holding the toy deep inside you trying to make the most of your orgasm. He moaned against your clit, releasing from you with a faint pop and leaning his head against your thigh.

You looked down at him as he pulled to toy out from you, his eyes admiring how wet you’d made it. As if his curiosity got the best of him, he brought the toy to his mouth and wrapped his lips around the tip. His eyes met yours as his cheeks hollowed out, pushing the toy further in before pulling out and licking his lips clean. He made his way back up to you, putting all his body weight on you and nuzzling his face into your neck, letting out a sigh of content.

“You taste good, babe, wanna eat you out next time,” San whispered in your ear, his tongue playfully licking at your earlobe.

“I don’t know how you do it.”

San lifted his head from your neck and peppered kisses all over your cheek.

“Do what?” He pushed himself off you, grabbing the towel you had used on him earlier and pushing your legs apart so he could gently wipe you clean. You used as much strength as you had left to bring yourself up to rest on your elbows, eyeing him.

“Drive me crazy, that’s what.” You laughed as your eyes trailed down to where San was laying earlier.

“Hey what’s that?” You pointed at the rather large spot on the comforter, San looked to where you were pointing, his eyes going wide.

“Holy shit… no fucking way.” Your jaw dropped in disbelief. “You came again? On the bed?”

“Well... yeah…” San mumbled, tossing the towel to the pile of discarded clothes.

You laughed, crawling your way across the bed to meet your boyfriend, arms wrapping around his neck as his naturally fell around your hips.

“You’re a naughty thing, you know that? Are you sure you’re a virgin?” You teased, no real malice or doubt in your voice.

You leaned forward to kiss the tip of his nose, catching the way his lips curved into a small smile.

“How ‘bout we run a shower and we can worry about the sheets later, hm?” San nodded at your suggestion, lowering himself to grab the back of your thighs before lifting you up.

Your legs wrapped around his waist as he began walking to the bathroom.

“Hey,” you spoke softly. He stopped in his tracks, moving his head to face you, waiting attentively.

“Just wanted to say I love you,” you kissed him, feeling him smile against your lips, the feeling never getting old. He pulled away from you, resting his forehead against yours.

“I love you more, pretty girl.”

The last time you and San had messed around was a lot farther than you both had gotten with each other, and the more that you guys explored and experimented with each other’s bodies, the more both of you found yourselves constantly looking for ways to feed each other affection.

San was aware of your sexual experience and at times when he was too lost in his head, he’d often feel insecure and wonder if the other people you’d been with were better- in any aspect really.

However, you constantly reassured him otherwise and for that he was more than thankful. Which led him to his current predicament.

You weren’t at the apartment, having had to run some errands for the day and San insisted on making time to hang out. He’d woken up too late that you’d already left to go do the things you needed to get done, so you suggested he just wait at home until you finished. Ever so quick to please, he found himself doing random chores around the place to keep himself occupied.

Today was laundry day, he dumped the basket of clothes on the bed that you had taken forever to fold (one of his little pet peeves but, still, he didn’t mind picking up the slack every now and then because he knew how busy you got.)

He hadn’t realized that the current load to switch from the laundry was your delicates (he zoned out quite a lot when he was left to his own devices), and for whatever reason he was feeling himself become more and more embarrassed as the seconds passed.

It was just panties, he didn’t know why he’d felt so shy about it. He’d seen you in your panties plenty of times, even if you were just lounging around in them. You were his partner, there was really no need to get all worked up, right?

No, there definitely was. He felt like a pervert feeling himself warm up at the thought of messing around with your intimate pieces of clothing without you here. But that feeling didn’t stop him from doing what he was about to do next.

He kicked his shoes off, making his way to your bed and laying amongst your sheets. Flipping over on his stomach, he buried his face in your pillow letting out a soft sigh. It smelled like you, sweet and safe, mixed with the stench of clean linens. He laid like that a little longer, the feeling of sleep trying to grasp him and almost winning. It wasn't until he shifted around to lay on his back that he noticed the tent forming in between his legs.

“Jesus…” he muttered to himself, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He was definitely more in love with you then he’d thought. You were always so understanding… so willing to let him explore his sexuality comfortably. but also so independent and level-headed, you just had so many qualities to you that he absolutely loved and made him feel loved and maybe that’s why just the thought of you drove him mad and never failed to awaken something deep inside of him. His heart swelled up each time you crossed his mind and for that he knew he was truly deep in some shit.

For fuck’s sake- he was getting hard just being in your most intimate spaces- without you even here next to him!

He closed his eyes, hands fisting the sheets lightly. He didn’t want to get off right now, at least not until you got back or something. But the idea of also getting off in your bed, while you weren’t there next to him was also kind of exciting. He laid still for a few minutes, mentally giving himself a time frame to see if his erection would go away and if it softened- then that was that; if it didn’t… well he’d cross that bridge when he got there.

And much to his surprise, it didn’t soften. Getting up from your bed, he paced around your room. He was really contemplating the idea of getting off, wondering if he should text you and ask; you know- for the sake of being polite. But that idea sounded stupid and truthfully, he couldn’t bring himself to ask, not wanting to face any judgment you might have (little to his knowledge, you found it hot that San had his little perv-y moments- but you weren’t going to tell him that).

Amongst his pacing, his hip bumped into one of your dresser drawers that had been left slightly open amidst your morning routine.

“Ah- fuck!” San grabbed his hip, rubbing harshly to soothe the pain. He looked down at the drawer he bumped into, noticing a mixture of patterns of lace and cotton intertwining with each other. His curiosity never failed to get the best of him, he reached for the drawer, hooking his fingers around the edge and pulling it open, bracing himself.

He’d already known what to expect when he opened the drawer quite truthfully, but god did he still feel a little shameful when he felt his cock twitch in his sweats looking at your panties that laid messily folded in the drawer below him.

He reached for the contents hesitantly, his eyes catching on a pair he remembered you wearing for one of your date nights. It was a black lace piece, the pattern soft and elegant like you, he thought to himself, with a tiny little pink rose placed atop a bow. that night you’d worn them, you and San were leaving a restaurant when your shoelaces had come undone- and ever the gentleman, San had offered to tie it for you. Insisting that he didn’t want you to bend down and worry about your skirt riding up or you flashing anyone, and maybe he’d taken a quick look up your skirt when you weren’t looking (you definitely noticed) but that was a story for another day.

Once he grabbed the panties, he noticed that the lace was a lot smoother in his hands than he thought, he wondered if you’d ever bought lingerie for him- or for your other past partners. He shook the thought from his head, not wanting to think about you being with other people right now- past or not.

His mind wandered as he remembered the first time you laid in front of him, in his shirt and panties, his hot come laying on your mound as you looked completely fucked out. San’s grip tightened around your panties as he debated this dilemma internally.

“Fuck it,” he muttered to himself as he closed the drawer with his other hand and made his way to your bed. He moved around, so that his body was half sitting up and half laying down against your sheets. If he was going to do this, he wanted to at least be comfortable.

His cock was throbbing and it was starting to be painful, that familiar wet patch seeping its way through his underwear and sweats as if welcoming him for indulging in his sinful desires.

He bunched his shirt to his chest and pulled his bottoms down to just above his knees; his cock slapping against his naval, red and shiny.

He let out a soft moan at the contact, mind turning to mush as the smell of your sheets was making him feel so… safe. He gripped himself at the base, bringing his other hand that had your panties to his nose. his hand flinched, his thoughts making him second guess himself one last time before he inhaled deeply, tightening his grip around his cock.

“Fuck,” he whined, inhaling your panties one last time before bringing it to the tip of his cock and slowly wrapping the fabric around himself. The feeling of the lace was different and for a split second his mind entertained the idea of what it’d be like to wear them while he got himself off to the thought of you, but he was too desperate now- the thought leaving his mind just as fast as it had entered his head.

He palmed the head of his cock, the lace rubbing against his slit, while his other hand tugged at his balls.

He felt dirty, filthy… utterly sinful. But he didn’t care as he kept stroking himself as he remembered the blissful look of you coming hard on that toy you’d both picked out. The hand that was tugging himself found his way up his stomach, lightly raking his nails against the skin before sliding under his shirt and stopping at his hardened nipple.

“Baby, please,” he whined softly. It was useless to beg, you weren’t there of course but he couldn’t help himself. He pictured himself between your legs again, this time having you ride his face. Using him however you wanted, his tongue prodding against your hole as he sucked and sucked and sucked against your clit.

He flicked his nipple before giving it a quick pinch, his hips jerking off the bed against his panty-covered hand. He moved his hand free from his chest, bringing it down to his cock so both of his hands were wrapped around his shaft. Your panties covered his tip completely as he began to rut his hips upwards, both hands moving along with his hips.

He was close, so fucking close and it was all happening to quick.

“Fuck,” San groaned, “fuckfuckfuck,” his hips moved faster as his imagination kept going on and on with different scenarios of how he wanted to ravish you. Images of him fucking you in every position you could imagine, ran through his head.

But the one that sent him over the edge was you on top, riding him dangerously slow, playing with your tits. In his head, you’d reached down and grabbed his chin, asking him so sweetly to look at you and open his mouth- and he did. you’d lean over him, letting go of his chin before making him stick his tongue out and grabbing the tip of it with your fingers and holding it firmly, leaning down and whispering obscene things to him- about him.

How he was so good for you, letting you fuck him dumb and never even imagining that he’d let you take control of him like this.

“Oh my fucking god I’m gonna come, please, oh my god,” San whined. “Wanna be good for you, so fucking good baby, please, feels so fucking good.”

His hips stuttered as his eyes closed shut, a deep moan coming from his chest. He opened his eyes enough to look down, he felt like he couldn’t stop coming, his come seeping through your panties and sliding down his fisted hands.

For his own, twisted pleasure, he continued to stroke himself. Swiping at some of his come and bringing it to his slit, running his index finger back and forth. His body shivered, he wondered to himself if he could come again- Maybe if he really tried, but he knew as long as you ran through his head, anything was possible.

However, he was snapped out of his post-orgasm daze when his phone began to ring. He searched the bed looking for the sound, finally grabbing his phone and seeing your name flash against the screen. His heart pounded against his chest as he hit the green button.

“Hey, babe, what’s up?” He cleared his throat in hopes of not sounding too… off.

“Hey, was just calling ‘cause you weren’t answering my texts- just wanted to make sure you were good.”

You mumbled something after that he couldn’t make out, hearing a faint honking noise in the background.

“Anyways, I'm on my way back to the apartment, but wanted to see if you needed me to stop and get anything? You hungry?”

“No, I'm okay, just drive safe. I miss you.”

You laughed.

“I miss you, too, baby. You okay, though? You sound kinda off?”

“No- yeah, yeah I’m fine! Was just dozing off waiting for you, s’all.”

“Mhm… right.”

Your voice dragged, not entirely convinced.

“Okay, well, I’m not that far so I'll see you in a sec. Love you!”

“I love you more,” and with that you both hung up.

San set his phone down, laying his head back against your pillows as he looked up at the ceiling. He felt himself soften in his hands, the lace of the panties laying across more of his lower half. He entertained the thought more adequately this time, wondering what it’d be like to wear something like this, how would he look if you fucked him stupid while he wore-

“What the fuck?” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head as if to rid himself physically from the thought. He got up, looking for something to clean himself with as he tried to figure out where to put your now-stained panties.

Once that was decided, he laid back in your bed. Shuffling under the covers and recapping everything that had happened within the last hour. He shut his eyes briefly and on cue, the door beeped, signaling you had just gotten home.

He laughed to himself both in disbelief and embarrassment, you were really making him question everything. But for some reason, he didn’t mind as long as it was you.

It had been a few days after you had run your errands and had come back home to San lying around (quite suspiciously might you add) in your bed.

You didn't want to press him on it, but that didn’t keep you from having your own suspicions. Letting whatever it was that he was hiding, to let it be. Which you figured it couldn't have been that bad to begin with regardless, just that he had maybe been a bit... mischievous.

But it was the thought of him being alone in your room for that long, and knowing him, he intentionally or unintentionally snooped around.

Today was a laundry day though, you had grabbed your hamper and dumped the clothes on your floor so you could separate the delicates and the colors.

Amidst your separating, you noticed the black lace pair you'd worn ages ago, on one of the first dates that you and San had gone on.

You guys were walking back to the car when he had stopped you, letting you know your shoelace had come undone. Just as you were about to bend down and tie your shoe, he stopped you, insisting you shouldn't because you were wearing a skirt and he didn't want you to be uncomfortable. As he fell to his knees, you shifted your legs slightly, moving one foot out so he could tie your shoe easier. In doing so, your skirt raised, allowing your underwear to be seen. San's head turned, taking a quick peek and trying to memorize the lace pattern that was laying across your skin. You definitely noticed, turning your head away and smiling to yourself.

You reached for the pair, wondering to yourself when it was that you had worn them, dropping them once you realized that the pair had faint, white residue. Your eyebrows furrowed as you thought of all possibilities as to why your underwear would have dry cum on them.

Did... San...? You wondered, before thinking of ways in which you should ask him about it, or even if you wanted to. You decided to leave it be for now, ready to be over with your daily chores for the day.

[new notifications]

y/n: babe~

y/n: r u ready

y/n: im abt to be there in 5 :]

San's phone buzzed from his shelf as he finished gathering up the rest of his items for your guy's trip. It was your first trip together, and he wasn't too sure about you, but he was definitely excited because this was finally going to be it.

You had both talked about finally going all the way together, and San insisted at least creating a little world away from the craziness of your everyday lives so he could fully enjoy you. You thought it was sweet and honestly, he was the only boyfriend you had who was so adamant on constantly trying to create the perfect atmosphere to show his deep love for you, and it made your heart swell every single time.

His phone buzzed again, he glanced down at his watch, seeing a new message from you saying you were here. He walked over to the shelf where his phone was, grabbing it along with his weekend bag and heading out.

You waited patiently in the car, your thumbs tapping against the steering wheel to the rhythm of the music playing in the background. You snapped out of your mindless daze when you felt a knock against the window, you turned your head, meeting San's eyes as he pointed to the back of your car, signaling you to open the trunk.

Moments later he was sliding in the passenger seat next to you, leaning over the console and placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

"Hi baby," he said as he leaned back and hastened his seat belt over his chest, securing it in the buckle.

You smiled, "Hi, how'd you sleep?"

"Good, I think," he reached for your hand as you put the car in drive, listening idly to where the GPS was telling you to go. "Missed you, was excited all night for this trip," he brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss.

You hummed, "You're awfully affectionate today, you really missed me that much, huh?"

San let out a light laugh, "I miss you everyday."

A comfortable silence shortly fell between the both of you as you continued to drive.

You pulled up to the Airbnb, which San had reserved for the holiday weekend. Calm waves hit the shore, and the sound of birds chirping echoed softly in the distance.

You put the car in park, nudging San slightly to get his attention.

"Look," you nodded your head in front of you. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Wow," San leaned forward in his seat, his mouth open in awe. "It is... can't believe we get to spend the holiday here."

"C'mon, let's go check it out," you smiled before stepping out of the car.

You made your way to the house, San following behind. You opened the door, taking note of the spacious interior.

You felt San's arms wrap around you, him leaning down and placing soft kisses along your cheek before making his way up to your ear.

"All this space just for us, hm," he poked his tongue out, laying a soft lick against your lobe. "Wanna take you on every. Single. Surface."

You leaned back against him, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of him being so close.

"Yeah yeah, you can after we get settled in," you hummed, pushing yourself off him and making your way further into the house. You set your keys on the counter, taking one last look at the Airbnb before turning back to San and making your way to the door. As you were about to pass him, your hands tapped at his chest before pulling him with you.

"C'mon, you nasty boy, let's unload the car," You said, a light laugh from San following shortly after.

You stepped out the restroom, your robe hanging carelessly around your body as you tried drying off your hair as best as you could.

"Babe, I still don't know why we can't just shower together," San grumbled from the bed.

"'Cause," you mumbled, making your way to your suitcase. "I still get shy."

You rummaged through your clothes, looking for some undergarments and a lounge shirt. Quickly slipping them on, your eyes caught a peek at that specific pair you brought with you. You turned around to quickly glance at San, seeing that he was sprawled on the bed, shirtless and in sweats. His arms were crossed over his face as he mindlessly sung to himself. You reached down for the pair, finally turning around and tossing them onto San's chest.

His body gently flinched at the contact in surprise, before he moved his arms down and looked at what was laying on his chest. His body froze.

"Y'know I'd been meaning to ask you if those looked familiar," You said as you walked over to the bed, climbing your way up to seat yourself in San's lap. He looked up at you, his ears and face turning flush as he hummed in response.

"I was doing my laundry before the trip and well," You reached for the underwear before dragging it across his stomach. "I like to separate my delicates and colors and such... and I couldn't help but notice those were dirty."

"I also couldn't remember the last time I had worn them, at least recently. Do you know what they were dirty with, San?"

He looked up at you briefly, his cheeks flushed and eyes full of guilt. Despite that, you felt him growing hard underneath you. you didn't give him a chance to answer before leaning down next to his ear and whispering, "They were dirty with someone's cum, baby... can you believe it?"

He let out a soft groan, his hands reaching for your waist before making their way down to your ass and gently groping you.

"Fine, fine. I'm guilty, you got me." His eyes squeezed shut as he gripped your ass more rough, before rolling his hips up into you.

You gasped, your chest pressing flush against San. "I wasn't expecting you to admit it so fast."

"Yeah, I know. I'm embarrassed, but right now I don't care. Just want you to touch me," His hands removed themselves from your ass before bringing them up to the back of your neck and pulling you into a kiss.

The kiss was slow and lazy, your hands making their way to lay gently on top of San's chest.

"Mm, babe," your voice muffled against San's lips, he hummed, pressing his lips harder and grabbing your ass tighter. You managed to pull away, pressing your forehead against his, opening your eyes slightly to see his eyes still shut.

"San," you whispered, pulling away completely to look down at him from being seated in his lap. You took note of the way his body stayed flush, the light sheen of sweat glistening in the dim light, his pink swollen lips, to the way his sweats were snug around his hard cock.

"Why don't you..." Your hands slowly moved around his chest, the tips of your fingers grazing his skin like a feather, before stopping at the buds of his nipples. "Why don't you show me how you made a mess on my panties in the first place, huh?" Your fingers moved on their own, lightly pinching the buds between them and giving them a soft tug, testing the waters.

San moaned, his shoulders squirming against the mattress, "S-show you? Yeah, yeah I can do that, j-just lemme- ah," He opened his eyes to look up at you, the glossy look he had during moments like this never failing to make you weak. He lightly tapped your ass, signaling you to get off him, in which you complied. You shuffled along the bed until your back was leaning against the headboard, your shirt scrunched to your waist leaving the top of your thighs exposed. San moved next to you, moving himself around the bed until he managed to squirm his way to lay between your legs, his back pressed against your stomach and his head resting against your shoulder.

"You..." San's hands found their way to lay on the sides of your thighs, gently squeezing. "You said to show you, so I just thought... that maybe this would be... the best view I could give you." San's voice barely above a whisper, his head turning to look up at you. You nodded, looking back at him, leaning in to give him a quick kiss, your legs bending to place your feet on his waistband, doing your best attempt at trying to slide his sweats down.

His hands wrapped your ankles, leaning forward and giving each one a swift kiss before gently placing them on either side of his hips and laying back against you. He shimmied his way out his sweats before kicking them to the edge of the bed, his naked body on full display before you.

"It feels nicer like this," San said, his voice having a gravel edge to it. "When I was in your bed, I didn't have the luxury to be naked like I am now.." his cock looked angry laying against his stomach, beads of pre-cum smearing against the tight skin of his lower stomach. You stared in awe, before looking briefly at San's face, his hair falling into his eyes. You reached a hand to lay in his hair, swiping the hair upwards and running your nails gently back and forth against his scalp. San sighed, his cock jolting against his stomach, his head following the caresses of your hand.

"Y/n... you know," San’s hands clenched repeatedly against his sides before reaching down to wrap around his length. “There was so much that I was thinking about when I was laying in your bed.”

His hands massaged his length slowly, occasionally reaching down to tug at his balls before continuing his ministrations on himself.

You felt the wetness growing between your legs, your eyes skimming every part of his body displayed before you. the sheen of sweat forming at the base of his neck and trailing down the wide expanse of his chest. Your hands moved to his shoulders, gently caressing down his arms.

You hummed waiting for him to continue, shifting your hips as best as you could in your current position.

“You were on top, riding my face, and I was letting you do whatever you wanted to me, it just- ah- felt so good... knowing you were so good- feelin’ so good and-” San let out a loud moan, throwing his head back against your shoulder, eyes screwed shut. his hands tugged harder at his length, his thumb playing at the sensitive slit.

“What else, hm?” Your hands made their way to his nipples, testing the waters again and gently grazing against the hardened buds.

San's body caved in on itself at the sudden contact, rushing to tell you to wait.

“You okay?” You managed to get out, feeling your chest squeeze.

“Sorry, yes yes, I’m okay, it’s just.. if you keep doing that I’ll come too soon.”

"Here, lemme get up."

San moved forward to let you move from behind him.

"Lay back."

His hand released his cock as he shifted around before finally grabbing a pillow and resting it behind his head. You shuffled to sit on top of him, not fully planting all your body weight down. San's breath hitched. Your hands reached for the knot of your robe, slowly untying it to reveal yourself before San and letting it fall down the expanse of your shoulders and back.

San's eyes focused on every part of you, the way your nipples were perked from being aroused and the slight cool air that was slowly turning hot. The way your soft flesh was flushed, the way your thighs looked caging his frame at his hips. But his eyes really caught focus on the way your pussy was beginning to drip with wetness onto his cock. "Is this okay?" You quietly asked, leaning forward to rest your hands on either side of his head.

"Perfect, you're perfect. It's perfect. C'mere." San reached around the best he could to pull you down to meet his lips by the back of your neck. His hands resting on either side of your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks as your tongues swirled around each other. You felt yourself relaxing, your chest pressed against his and finally seating yourself on top of his cock. San moaned, his hips bucking up quickly, the tip of his cock briefly rubbing against your bundle of nerves. You pulled away from his lips, meeting his eyes before resting your forehead on his.

"Did you want to... you know," Your voice trailed off in a whisper.

"Please, yes. Yes, did you-"

"We can stay like this if that's okay with you, I really don't mind."

"That's okay," San gulped. Suddenly feeling his nerves spike. He wasn't worried about anything other than cumming quickly. Which would be as expected, considering his circumstances. But he had some hope that he could last at least enough time to help you reach your climax. Regardless, he trusted you.

You pushed yourself up, suddenly feeling anxious. You reached down to grab at the base San's cock, lining it up with your entrance. You could feel San's eyes staring at where his cock and your pussy were able to meet. He felt heavy in your hands, each throb a reflection of his unwavering desire for you. You lowered yourself on him, your essence making it easier for you to slide down. It had obviously been a while since you had actual sex, and pleasuring yourself did not compare to the feeling of having the man you loved inside you. The tip of his cock had pushed through, you felt yourself clench around the intrusion. You and San let out a moan in unison.

"Why- Why do I feel like I'm gonna come?" San said in a strained voice as his hands fisted the sheets, stomach tensing beneath you.

"Just- Wait-" You breathed out, letting all your weight down on San's cock. The feeling of him stuffed fully inside of you made you feel dizzy nonetheless. San let out a long whine, he pushed himself up from the mattress to meet your body, pulling you in a tight hug.

"I love you so much, so so much. You don't even understand." San grumbled into the crook of your neck, placing kisses along the spot where your ear and neck met. You let out a needy whine, reaching your arms around his back to embrace him as well. You moved your hips as best as you could given the current position, grinding in small circles. San pulled away, one of his hands reaching to grope at your chest.

He leaned down, kissing along the valley of your chest that led down to your nipple. His mouth closed around the perked bud, his tongue swirling around delicately. You let out a moan, your hands reaching up to take hold of his hair, nails gently scraping against his scalp before gently tugging at the roots.

San's hands reached around you again, his nails softly scratching down against the expanse of your back before finding purchase on your ass. He gripped the flesh with firmness, pulling you down as he tried to buck up into you. The tip of his cock grazed the cervix ever so slightly, causing you to let out a sharp whine.

"Sannie, baby, do that- do that again." That was the first time San heard you call him that. It triggered something in him, but he couldn't quite explain it. He brought your hips down again as he bucked up into you, leaning forward and clumsily capturing your lips in a kiss.

His cock twitched inside you, it didn't take much to know that he was close. You were honestly surprised that he had held out this long but then again you two had fooled around before this so how surprising could it really have been. You pulled away from his lips, leaning in for one last peck before moving your hips with more fervor.

"C'mon baby, I know you're close. It's okay, you can let it out."

If you had to ask San to relive one moment from his life again before he died, he'd think he'd confidently say that it'd be this moment. He actually might be dramatic, it would probably be an entirely different moment, but his mental, his senses, his heart, was so consumed with the thought of you that he was sure that if he died right now, he’d die a happy man.

There was something about the way that you always softly demanded him or guided him during these intimate moments- there was a gentleness mixed with a sternness in your demeanor that drove him insane.

He gave one last buck of his hips, the plushness of your ass jiggling slightly against his hands before he felt the tension that was in his balls release.

San held you close, his head falling on your shoulder and leaning into the crook of your neck. The loud groan being the only thing that you could hear, you felt your body shudder at the feeling of hot ropes of cum painting your gummy walls. You sat there on the bed in each other’s embrace for what felt like an eternity, San was the first to say something.

“Baby.”

You hummed, your hands rubbing up and down his back, your fingertips grazing his skin with the softest caress you could muster.

“Can I eat you out?”

“What?” You pulled away to look San in the eyes, only to find him avoiding your gaze.

“I’m serious, I know you didn’t get to… finish and I don’t really care that you know…”

You shook your head, moving to get off him to lay down. The feeling of his cock instantly slipping out of you having your pussy clench. You were stuffed full of him seed, not realizing how much he’d actually came until it began to dribble down the insides of your thighs.

You settled on your back, eyes shut from shyness.

“Fuck,” You heard San whisper as he turned his body to get a better view at you. His hands grabbed at your knees pushing them forward to your chest.

“Hold them for me.”

“No way…”

“What?”

“I still can’t believe you’re this nasty, San. Are you sure you haven’t been jukin’ me this whole time?” You let out a breathy laugh, your pussy clenching again as San’s hands massaged the back of your thighs before dragging them closer to your pussy.

He laughed with you, his pointer fingers spreading your lips open. You couldn’t help but moan, feeling his seed dribble down.

“Say you want it,” San said, pausing his movements.

“What?”

“Say you want it- tell me how bad you want it,” San’s eyes stayed focused on the way you kept clenching around nothing.

This was definitely new, San never feigned feeling some type of way about always falling into a more submissive role during your previous intimate times together. You could confidently say this was a type of reassurance he wanted. You felt yourself gulp, eyes screwing shut once again.

“Want it…” You mumbled. Before you even had the chance to repeat yourself louder, you felt a sharp sting on your inner thigh which ignited a surprised yelp from you. You hadn’t expected the palm of his hand to meet so harshly with your skin.

“Sorry I-”

“It’s okay, San. I promise it’s okay- God, please do that again, want it so bad. Want you so fucking bad, please. Just fucking do something.”

San couldn’t understand what he was feeling, seeing your fucked out face, squirming and moaning for him to touch you. It was always him that was left to this role, and don’t get him wrong- he definitely enjoyed it. You made him feel safe and comforted, but prior to this trip when he had wondered about your previous partners and finally losing his virginity to you… he really couldn’t help but wonder how he could make you feel that same safe feeling during sex that you never failed to make him feel.

He wanted you to crave him the same way he craved you.

He quickly maneuvered himself to be eye level with your core and wasted no time in wrapping his lips around you. His tongue poked and prodded at your hole, tasting himself on his lips. He pressed his palms down into your thighs trying to spread you out the best he could as he continued to suck and lick at your most sensitive parts.

“Wait, oh fuck- Don’t stop.” You threw your head back into the mattress, you could feel your clit throbbing as you tried bucking your hips up into San’s mouth.

“Right there, you’re doing so good, baby. Right there- fuck-”

San felt his chest grow in pride, continuing to lick and prod at your clit. His tongue swirled around the overstimulated bud, he could feel your legs switching between relaxed and tensed. He pressed his tongue flat against your core, letting you grind against his face. He was determined to make you cum without his fingers.

“Oh my god- I’m gonna- Shit, I’m coming baby, I’m coming, ooh my god,” You let out a long whine, trying to shut your legs around San’s head but with no prevail.

It happened suddenly, your orgasm crashing down and in a blink of an eye you felt one of your things being pressed open while you felt fingers enter you.

“Wha-”

“Gimme one last one, I know you can.”

Somehow San had moved to be parallel from your laying body, hovering above you as best as he could while his fingers drilled into you tight cunt.

His eyes focused on your face, the way you struggled to keep your eyes open and your eyebrows were pursed forward. There was no real rhythm to his fingers, part of him had only vaguely remembered how people fingered each other in videos. And even he knew those weren’t good examples to go off of.

“Come on, baby. I know you can cum for me one more time.”

Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, and suddenly all you could feel was San in every one of your senses. His smell, his body heat, his presence, his gaze on you… he was clouding every bit of your mental. The knot if your stomach was ready to snap, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to try and tell San that he was hitting that sweet spot. Could he even tell? You didn’t think so, but you could tell this orgasm was going to be different from all your prev-

“Look at you, holy fuck-” San began rubbing your clit quickly. “Baby, you’re fucking squirting for me.”

Your ears were ringing, and truthfully you could barely hear what San was saying. Your mind was entirely clouded, and you didn’t even have the strength to respond. Your body shuddered, and all you could muster up was weakly wrapping your arms around San and pulling him down on top of you.

“Hey, you okay?” San’s voice never failed to show his concern as he tried turning in your grasp to get a look at you.

You weakly hummed in response before speaking, trying to wrap your arms more comfortably around him.

“Feels like… feels like I’m on a cloud. Don’t want you to leave me, feels good. Here- Feels good you’re here. With me.” You rambled, fighting to keep your eyes open.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby.” San whispered, softly kissing the first piece of skin his lips could reach. He moved one of his hands to rest at your side, caressing his thumb back and forth lightly.

“Was it too much? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” San mumbled into your skin.

“Shh.” San looked up at your face expectantly.

“I like this side of you, too, it was perfect, Sannie.”

He smiled, leaning back down to give you a swift kiss.

“You did good for me, by the way. And of course, always an overachiever…” There was a tilt to San’s voice as he spoke.

“Me? That’s definitely you, I was fine with not finishing after you came.”

“Oh really? Well, I wasn’t,” he playfully retorted.

“And this is why you’re mine, because you treat me so well,” you smiled, eyes still shut.

“And on that note, lemme get you cleaned up.”

“I don’t wanna take another shower right now, can we at least nap for a little before we do? I genuinely can’t feel my legs, I think.”

“Fine, but I’m setting a timer for an hour. At least go pee.” San got up, his bare body facing away from you as he reached into one of his bags that was placed on one of the chairs in the corner of them. He walked back towards you, opening a package of wipes, gently wiping at the insides of your thighs as best as he could. He reached down to grab hold of your hand, tugging slightly to pull you up.

“An hour…” you echoed with a slight pout, looking back at San.

“Two at most.” You felt a content smile creeping on your face.

“Hold on, I’m gonna carry you, m’kay?” He reached hold of your back, lifting you so you could wrap your legs around his torso as he walked to the bathroom.

He placed you on the tile floor, stepping away and shutting the door behind him.

“I’m gonna strip the bed sheets, we might have to run into town to grab some detergent to wash… Lemme know when you’re about to come out though so I can grab your robe.” San’s head peaked through the door, giving you one last smile.

“Thank you.”

And with that he closed the door behind him.

You woke up to the alarm San had set going off and feeling insanely hot, your robe was exposing your naked body underneath and your legs were tangled with San’s.

In fact, most of his body was practically smothering yours and though you loved him dearly, you needed him to get off of you to cool down.

You did your best to wiggle yourself free, but to no avail, San’s arms stayed holding you tightly.

“Why you trynna run away from me, huh?” San grumbled against your hair.

“I’m not running away, you’re literally a furnace.”

You tried kicking the blankets off with the little leg strength you had. San threw his leg over yours, pulling you as close as possible. Both of you fell into a fit of laughter, trying to squirm for freedom.

“San, let. Me. Go.” You laughed, pushing your body weight against him to free yourself from his hold.

“Never.”

“Please.”

“Nope.”

“You said we would only take a nap for two hours and then rinse off.”

“I know what I said.”

You laughed, eyebrows raised at his sudden sassiness.

“So since you know, let’s get up. You wanna run into town later, right?”

San hummed, his hand coming up from holding you to push your robe further off your back. His lips began softly kissing at your hot skin.

“Lemme have you one more time before we shower.” He grumbled, his lips now puckering to suck love bites against your shoulder. His hips pressed forward and you felt his cock begin to get hard against your lower back just above the swell of your ass.

“Seriously.” You moaned in disbelief, pushing your hips back to meet his. His teeth nipped at your skin, not hard enough to cause you any pain but enough to feel yourself getting aroused.

“I’ll make it quick, I promise.”

“Fine.” You huffed out, letting yourself relax your body into San’s, letting him touch you however he pleased.

San was right, he made it quick. He had his way with you while you guys spooned, thrusting his hips shallowly against your ass as he hit all your sweet spots. This vacation was definitely going to have both of you spent, and with San’s new found stamina, you were unsure if you were really going to be able to keep up.

It wasn’t long until you guys finally found the courage to get up and rinse off, deciding to finally make your way into town and grab a few things from the grocers.

“You said we needed detergent, yeah?” You said, pushing the cart down the aisle as San focused on items on the shelf.

“Yeah, detergent and then whatever snacks you want.”

“Snacks… okay, you want me to meet you in the frozen section?”

“That’s fine. I’mma grab some fruits and other stuff then head that way.”

You hummed, making your way to the other side of the store to select your items.

Five minutes, maybe ten at most, had passed until San finally made his way back to meet up with you. Reaching the cart, he dumped his items in.

“Ready?”

“Yeah let’s-” You stopped, eyes falling on two bottles of lube that San had thrown in with the rest of his items that consisted of sugary snacks and fruit.

“What?” He paused, waiting for you to finish. His eyes trailed down to what you were looking out before continuing, “Look you can never have too much, okay? Also, I made a promise when we first got here.”

And with that, San walked his way to the front of the store where the registers were, turning around briefly to motion you to follow before walking again.

When you guys had gotten back from the store, you both decided to put in a frozen pizza in the oven and ate quickly, finding refuge on the couch shortly after to relax. You guys had the bed sheets in the washer, currently laid up on the couch. The television played some movie that San had decided on, something about volleyball, you weren’t tracking too much to be quite frank.

You laid on top of San, feeling his heartbeat pound against your ear. His hands gently scratched against your back, as if he were to press any harder you’d break.

“Y/N?” San softly spoke, his hands stopping in place.

“Hmm..” Your eyes fought to stay open, exhaustion and content consuming your body after the day’s events.

“Everything was okay, yeah?” San’s voice trailed off, almost as if he felt embarrassed to even ask you. You knew what he was implying. You lifted your head to look him in the eyes.

“It was perfect. I’m glad you trust me, San. Seriously. And I’m so glad you let me love you the way you needed and let me show you how much I love you.”

San’s lips fell into a soft pout, he felt a lump in his throat. He didn’t say anything, instead he pulled you down for a tender kiss. It was sweet, there was no sexual intentions behind this one, just pure unadulterated love from the both of you.

“I love you, like a lot. Like for eternity, even.” San said as he pulled away from the kiss, smiling up at you.

“I love you for eternity, too.” You smiled back, giving him one last peck before laying your head back on his chest and succumbing to the sleepiness that slowly invaded your mind.

And the rest of your time on your vacation get-a-way was spent like that. Spending time with another, sharing affectionate moments and sweet words. San was true to his word, he took you on every surface in that house that he could defile you on. The kitchen counters, the table, the couch, the shower, even the stairs. He’d gone through a bottle and a half of lube since he had purchased it that first day there and you were more than sure the way he was fucking you, in all these different positions and with his stamina in mind, he was surely going to end up putting a baby in you.

One thing you had begun to realize about San though- well, a few things- was how he loved coming inside you and watching you push it out. As if he couldn’t wrap his head around that all of that seed was really his. Also that he really liked making you squirt- it wasn’t something you’d known before that you were capable of doing, so to have a guy who had very little sexual experience, make you do that, was truly mind-boggling.

After your vacation, you noticed your energy shift between each other for the better. San had passed his horny phase, and overall had just enjoyed being romantically intimate just as much as he enjoyed being sexually intimate. Not that he hadn’t been that way before, but it definitely felt more comfortable to express those sides of him naturally. You both brought out new sides of each other and to be able to express that so comfortably and safely was more than perfect.

Time had passed and yet another school year had finally come to an end, summer was approaching quickly.

“You heading back home for the summer?” San asked as you guys strolled along the trail that went through the campus park. His hands played with the ends of your hair as you walked, his eyes looking at you expectantly.

“Hmm, I thought about it, my lease ends right before summer starts so it at least gives me time to really think but, honestly I don’t wanna…”

“Come with me.”

“What?” You stopped walking, turning to look at San.

“I mean come with me for the summer. I’m going back home and we have a spare room if anything since my sister doesn’t live at the house anymore…” His voice trailed off as his hands removed themself from your hair, bringing them forward and stuffing them in his pockets.

“Well… I mean, are your parents okay with-”

“I already asked them… last month. And again last week, I didn’t tell them it was for sure though because I wasn’t sure how to bring it up to you but if you do decide to come, they’re okay with it and they’re super excited to meet you. No pressure though.” San chewed on his lower lip, avoiding your eyes.

You grabbed his wrists, taking his hands out of his pockets and bringing his hands to your lips, giving each one a soft kiss. Your eyes met his, and you found him looking back at you fondly with a faint blush creeping on his cheeks. He was trying hard to fight the smile that so desperately wanted to be on display for you and only you.

“Well, then. I would love to spend the summer with you and your family.” You pulled him forward to kiss his lips quickly, before pulling away and leading him down the trail of the park.

This upcoming summer was definitely going to be one to remember, and you were more than excited to spend it with the one you loved most.

#ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez choi san x reader #ateez choi san #choi san x reader #choi san #san smut #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #ateez #vasco🐰

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madridfangirl · 2 months

Text

A Weekend in Ibiza - Part 3

(Jude Bellingham blurb)

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 4)

4k words. Jude*female reader. Smut & suggestive language.

A/n - When we don't get Jude holiday content, we make shit up

..................................................................................................

Jude stared at the blank screen after she hung up on him. In utter disbelief.

He really thought he was in. The wine & note was such a master stroke. A public message but one only she would understand. That, coupled with the song, was absolute pants-dropping stuff. Proof that he could do more than just think with his dick.

He had been quite proud of himself for coming up with it. And, unless his radar was completely broken, he had sensed a change in her tone & voice too.

But poof. The pat on the back was clearly premature.

Fuck this shit.

Determined to go back to how smooth & satisfying this vacation was going till this morning, Jude returned to the club. And to the set of women he was holding off when he thought he was gonna be otherwise occupied.

His mates could see he was off the rails tonight. Grinding & grabbing freely. Caution out of the window. High on loads of tequila and some other emotion he wasn’t in the mood to share, not even with them. They let him be, only intervening when he was gonna end up with someone in the club’s loo, and sending them back to the villa.

As a gorgeous & supremely enthusiastic woman bounced on him that night, throwing her head back in pleasure, screaming his name, Jude laid back and shut his eyes, imagining those sounds in another voice. Later, he crashed on the living room couch, face down, drifting to a restless sleep.

You woke up the next day, still undecided, but glad that you had held off last night. And not jumped into something without thinking it through.

Kicking yourself for avoiding outdoors all day yesterday, you booked a long snorkelling & island hopping trip, soaking in the sun and the glorious water. And kept your phone on airplane mode. Afterall, this was meant to be a relaxing holiday in your dream location. Ibiza wasn’t going to be just about him. Heck, you didn’t even know he existed till yesterday morning. Peaceful times.

Amidst the fun & frolic, though, his thoughts kept creeping up. You couldn’t shut him out, much to your surprise & dismay. This was strange & unusual, but you fought the feeling.

Till you got back to your room that afternoon and succumbed to checking his Insta. The real meaning of the phrase ‘dropping to one’s knees’ became all too clear in that split second.

He had uploaded a set of rigorous workout photos. In a sleeveless black vest and the tightest pair of training shorts you had even seen. Sweaty thirst traps, basically. The comment section had exploded, as did your ovaries.

You had meant what you told him yesterday - casual sex had never appealed to you. Hook-ups were not your cup of tea. You had been in two relationships previously and sex had happened only after an emotional connection. It had been a while since then but you had never felt such a NEED before.

This guy though - the pull you felt towards him, the way your body responded to just his thoughts, the desperation you felt to get his hands on you (& yours on him) - it was an unearthly feeling. Like all the forces in the universe had aligned to bring you two together.

His persistent attention was flattering, you couldn’t deny. For some unfathomable reason, he really wanted you.

It was high time to admit, that, you wanted him too.

And what better place to get this anomaly out of your system than this faraway exotic land, where no one recognised you. What happened in Ibiza could literally just stay in Ibiza.

This realisation gave you new found clarity, and courage. Still not enough courage to call him though - you opted for texts.

‘9 pm tonight? My room?’

You’d rather die than go to his villa, that much you were set on. God knows what all would have happened there.

He saw the message after a few mins, around 6 pm.

‘Why wait till then?’

You took in a few deep breaths. Shit was getting real.

‘Ok. Room 209.’

‘Will be there in 20.’

20 mins. He was gonna be here in 20 mins. Million dollar question - what to wear? But but, this wasn’t a date. So it didn’t matter that you hadn’t packed anything worthy of a date night with someone like him. It was just gonna be a night with him. And for that you knew exactly what to wear. After all, you didn’t believe in half measures.

The bell rang, and there he was. Dressed in a tucked in sheer blue shirt and tight white pants.

Tall, handsome, and so big. Towering over you.

You let him in & shut the door, leaning your back against it.

While Jude leant against a nearby desk, facing you. Blatantly checking you out, surveying your skimpily clad body. Trademark cocksure smirk & posture, like he always knew it was only a matter of time before you’d fold. And he’d get his prize.

You almost wanted to shoo him out right away, just to see the expression on his face.

But, he looked SO SO DELICIOUS right now that your throat felt dry and you started to wonder why he wasn’t all over you already.

‘So, how do you wanna do this?’

You shrugged and said abruptly, wanting him to get on with it.

He chuckled loudly, lips curving into a gorgeous smile. Plump, lush, pink lips claimed all your attention as he sauntered over to you, placing his hands on the door, caging you in between.

You turned your face and crossed your legs as his hot breath hit your cheeks, overwhelmed by his proximity. Soft lips pecked your neck as he moved to whisper in your ear.

‘Wanna get you nice & ready for me. Yeah?’

You nodded eagerly, and he smiled against your cheek, moving to your ear again.

‘Say the word and I’ll stop.’

Before you could respond, he gripped the hem of your kaftan and lifted it over your head. Your arms moving up involuntarily to do his bidding.

Leaving you in your new turquoise blue bikini set. The one you had bought on a whim but never did have the guts to wear. Until now.

He hummed appreciatively and his eyes turned a shade darker as they raked your form.

Jude kissed the pulse point on your neck and licked down in a straight line, shoving his tongue in your belly button.

You mewled embarrassingly, trying to pull him up to your boobs, needing his touch there. But he just shushed you and smiled against your skin as he kneeled down. THE BASTARD.

Deft fingers removed your bikini bottoms, leaving your core bare to him. Cool air & warm breath hit you there, making you shiver in anticipation.

It was killing him to not just take you then & there, but he could tell you were too tense. He wanted you pliant & needy, for what he had in mind tonight. This seemed like the best way to get there quickly.

His head nudged between your legs, spreading them apart. His mouth found your clit, sucking & licking softly. You flinched, trying to close your legs instinctively but his hands grabbed your thighs, hooking one leg over his shoulder to give him better access. Grabbing his hair with one hand and the door knob with the other, you held on for dear life as his tongue slid down your folds.

This was not an activity he did often, or at all. But what he lacked in experience & skill, he made up with eagerness and effort. Your helpless moans massaged his ego, providing extra motivation to elicit more such sounds. Your trembling thighs cocooning his head perfectly. Your wetness tasting bitterly sweet on his tongue. Your fingers digging into his scalp, trying to push him into the right spots & angles that drove you wild.

And wild you were. Moaning with such abandon, right on the door - half the rooms in the corridor would have heard you by now.

His mouth was heavenly, but his eyes were another story altogether. Shimmering with hunger and pride - for reducing you into a mewling mess. His mouth fucked your core but his eyes were fucking your whole being, reaching the depths of your soul.

But then, he slowed down. Not stopping fully but not going nearly as fast as you needed. Keeping you on the edge.

‘Tell me.’

He rasped from between your legs, voice muffled.

‘That fucker - you didn’t go with him, right? Say you didn’t let him touch you. SAY IT.’

You wanted to choke him with your legs for choosing this moment of peak vulnerability to make you admit this. CONNIVING BASTARD.

‘I’ll keep you like this all night if I have to, baby girl.’

His silky, smooth voice was filled with promise. His slow strokes accentuated your agony.

‘I HATE YOU.’

You groaned, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being right.

‘Tell that to you body.’

‘FINE. HE DIDN’T TOUCH ME. HAPPY NOW?’

Jude paused completely. Forcing you to look into his eyes. When you did, a strong hand spanked your butt, on the leg that was hooked over his shoulder. You gasped for air, the shock and sting and pleasure making you nearly double over.

He resumed his work with renewed vigour, each stroke a power move now. His hands gripped your ass, keeping you in place, the force sure to leave marks, which was probably the point of it.

You cried out as his relentless moves forced your body to reach its peak, faster than usual. The familiar sensation built in the pit of your stomach, travelling through your lower body and releasing through your core. Into his waiting mouth.

He lapped you up, but didn’t stop, applying more pressure than earlier to your most sensitive spot, as if testing the limits of your body. You struggled against his grip, in vain, and the overstimulation made you climax again, quickly.

‘P-please…wait…’

Your choked voice got his attention. Unhooking your leg slowly, he stood up, wiping his face with the back of his hand, letting you rest against him. Your drained body falling into his warm, worked up, still fully clothed one. His fingers clearing sweaty strands of hair from your face.

Time stood still for a minute, as he swayed you a little in his hold.

Then, the sharp sting on your butt made its presence known. The fog lifted from your head as you remembered how he basically played you. Manipulated you into admitting something you never would have otherwise. Was that his plan all along?

But he made you feel so good.

Fuck that. He made you lose a point in this battle of wits and you hated losing. It was time to regain control.

Jude felt a soft but firm hand push at his chest. He stepped away, blinking in confusion.

‘I need a shower.’

You said curtly. And the insufferable boy smirked again, cocking his head.

‘I’ll join yo..’

‘NO.’

You cut him off swiftly, enjoying his mouth opening & closing like a buffoon as you sneaked out of his hold & walked to the washroom. Only to be stopped by a strong grip at your elbow.

‘Be back in 10. Or I am coming in.’

‘No you’re not. Also, FYI, if you are expecting me to return this favour at some point tonight, that’s not gonna happen. I don’t do that…stuff.’

You marched to the washroom, locking the door behind for good measure. It took quite a few splashes of cold water to counter how hot you were still feeling, especially between your legs.

You stared at your dishevelled reflection in the mirror, closing your eyes and reliving his touch. Very aware that you hadn’t felt pleasure like that before. And he hadn’t even properly taken you yet.

Somehow, by satisfying you, he made you even hungrier for him. You wanted more, so much more. His mouth, his hands, his body, at all your sensitive spots. And you wanted to touch him too, so so badly.

The need for him overtook all your senses & you marched back out. Stopping at the door with the near pornographic site in front.

Jude had stripped to his briefs, glorious hard muscles on full display. And was gulping down a bottle of juice from the mini bar. Little droplets escaping from the corner of his mouth, sliding clumsily down his chin, on to the pool of soft hair on his chest.

He stopped when your eyes met, intrigued by your feverish expression.

Time to drop all pretenses.

Taking off the only garment you had on, your bikini, you swiftly walked to him, as his eyes widened, glued to your chest.

You pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed and climbed into his lap, guiding his large palms to your boobs, moaning as they squeezed you firmly.

His mouth was still slightly agape, forming a delicate O, making his glossy lips all the more edible to you. Then, he gazed into your eyes, his hands still groping you thoroughly.

‘Who are you, and what did you do to the girl I met yesterday?’

Great question, you couldn’t believe yourself either.

‘You killed her, with all your naked hotness. I WANT YOU.’

He just moved his hips so his crotch brushed against you, demonstrating with HARD evidence how much he wanted you too. His fingers pinched your hardening nubs, as you fell into the crook of his long neck.

‘Juude.’

His whole body jerked, having waited so long to hear his name from you.

‘Touch me, please.’

He followed through, like his life depended on it. His warm, strong hands roaming your bare back and his wet sultry mouth tending to your front. You gripped and pulled and bit at whatever of him you could find access to, as your nails dug into his rippling back muscles. He left his fair share of marks as well, paying special attention to your neck and chest. Your lips crashed into each others, FINALLY, as your tongues clashed for dominance, his winning eventually as he left you breathless & dizzy. Your indelicate movements in his lap driving him nuts throughout. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore, groaning into your ear.

‘Need you…right now.’

‘Umm-hmm.’

Jude grabbed your face, lust dancing in his eyes.

‘You ready to take me, yeah? Like a good girl?’

You nodded & braced yourself for what was coming. He wasn’t gonna go easy, not after you made him wait so long. The thought both excited & unnerved you.

Next second, he tossed you from his lap on to the bed, his large frame looming over you. Your hands moved to grip the sheets but he flipped you again, to your hands and knees.

‘But…’

‘Shhhhh.’

You wanted him face to face, so you could feel him close, so his eyes could fuck the depths of your soul again. But his need was more primal right now.

His finger prodded at your core, checking your readiness. Finding you dripping wet but still too tight for his liking. He added another one to stretch you further, burying them in till his knuckles.

Jude leaned over your back, stroking your boobs with his free hand, kissing your shoulders, whispering in your ear.

‘Breathe. Relax for me, doll.’

You would have given him the world at that moment if he had asked like that. He should have been a hostage negotiator, with that honeyed charming convincing voice.

He felt your walls unclench in real time, cooing appreciatively in your ear.

‘Such a good girl.’

That felt like a bigger validation than graduating top 1% of your class in uni or landing a high flying consulting job. Both of which were your biggest achievements. Till that point.

A minute later, he was running his covered tip up and down the edge of your folds. But his own need didn’t allow him to tease for long, and he entered half way in with a single thrust, pausing to let you adjust.

Your hands and knees gave away at the intrusion as you fell face down into the pillow. It had been a while and his size didn’t help either. He placed a pillow under your lower waist to lift your ass up, giving him the angle he needed. Then pulled out & thrusted again, going three quarters in this time.

You already felt so full, biting the pillow to curb your moans.

‘Just a bit more, yeah? You’re doing so good. So good for me.’

Enchanting you with that silky sweet voice, he thrusted in again, entering fully. So deep, you could almost feel him in your throat. He stayed still, letting you get used to him. You desperately reached behind with your hand, looking for some contact, and he held it firmly, giving it reassuring squeezes.

Jude felt like his head would explode any moment with arousal. The shifts in her demeanour, from sweet & coy one moment to this wildfire he had met today, were giving him sexual whiplashes. He was worried he’d burst too soon, given how painfully hard he already was, & embarrass himself.

Unable to wait any longer, he started moving inside you. Slow, deep, rhythmic strokes, driving you mad. One hand balancing your ass, while other moved underneath to find your clit. Doubling your sensations to ease his path. As you moaned his name like a chant, the sounds making him harder.

Chasing his release like a mad man, his hips picked up pace soon, as did his hand. You cried into the pillow, feeling hot all over, as he played your body like a fiddle, for the second time tonight. Your head started to spin, as he pounded you mercilessly into the mattress. Your legs started to shake & your walls started to clench around him.

‘Not yet.’

He commanded hoarsely, denying you the friction of his hand anymore. You whined, and tried reaching down with your own hand, but he grabbed it mid-way.

‘I said, NOT YET.’

You mumbled some gibberish into the pillow, which he didn’t bother to register. Too far gone by this point.

Suddenly, you felt his weight on your back, crushing you further into the mattress. His voice in your ear wasn’t silky soft this time, it was downright menacing.

‘What did you call me yesterday, a little boy fresh out of his teens, huh?’

You desperately shook your head, having no memory of it. But he remembered. Every. Single. Word.

The force of his next thrust made your voice choke in your throat. Burning your insides. The pain unlocking a different layer of pleasure. He was all-consuming. All around you. Deep inside you. Your existence was anchored on him, everything else blurred into the background.

‘Still think so?’

You had lost the ability to think or feel anything, other than the sensations he was giving you.

‘I…I don’t. Please Jude, let me….I can’t….pls…’

The helplessness in your choked voice gave him the final nudge he needed. His strokes became sloppier, deeper.

‘Now, doll. Let go now. Cum for me.’

Right on cue, you let yourself go. Almost embarrassed at the timed precision with his command. The delicious squeeze of your walls & your cries tipped him over the edge too. He continued to stroke lazily, letting all the pent up need release. Then crashed on top of you, panting into the side of your face, still buried to the hilt inside.

‘H-heavy.’

You struggled underneath, with whatever minuscule energy you had left. He caught it, pulled out slowly and rolled off you, smiling contently, tracing lazy patterns on your sweaty back.

While he dispensed off the condom, cleaned himself & put on his briefs, you stayed out like a light. Only coming to life when you felt a wet towel between your legs, kicking it away instinctively given how sore you were. Faintly hearing a light chuckle somewhere.

Jude let you be for a few minutes. But when you still didn’t move, he wrapped an arm around your waist, slowly turning you to face him. You groaned at the light hitting your face.

‘Heyy, you’re ok?’

You hummed and snuggled into his warm, broad, inviting chest, shielding yourself from the light.

‘Let’s get some food into you, yeah?’

Food arrived 30 mins later, by which time you had recovered enough to realise he couldn’t answer the door. Couldn’t be seen in your room. While he argued you looked too fucked out to get in front of the waiter right now.

You won the argument, shooed him into the washroom (as he tied the bathrobe tightly around you), and collected the food-table at the door itself. The room was too much of a mess for anyone to see.

Both ate in peace, falling into a comfortable silence. You, in particular, were shocked at yourself, at how easy you felt around him. Given you had no experience of such arrangements while he, well, his was a different story altogether.

You wondered at what point he’d wanna leave, and how come he hadn’t done that already. But he was showing no signs of wanting to leave. It was 10 pm, and they ended up putting on a random movie on Netflix, snuggled together in bed. The movie ended at 12, and he still didn’t make a move.

‘You could leave if you want to. It’s fine.’

He looked at you curiously. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was hurt.

‘Do you want me to leave?’

No. Not at all.

‘Isn’t that what you’d normally do?’

He shrugged, and you didn’t push it further. Falling asleep into his comfy arms. While he stayed awake for a bit, gazing at you & questioning his unusual behaviour tonight. Finally drifting off to a peaceful sleep.

You were awoken way too early the next morning, with his kisses on your shoulder.

‘It’s 6 am. Let me sleep.’

‘Are you still sore?’

Of course. He wanted another tumble. Is that why he stayed? You tried to be mad but your voice betrayed your excitement.

‘Just a little. Not much.’

He smiled that gorgeous smile, drawing one from you too. And got on top of you, granting you your wish of being face to face with him.

Your bodies moved in sync, as if already in tune with each other. Unlike the rush of adrenaline last night, this time was slow & soft. Him being mindful of the residual ache in your limbs. His pace & force never exceeding a certain threshold. Your hands wrapped around his shoulders, as you pulled him down for a kiss, gazed into his beautiful eyes and shut out the world. If this was gonna be the last you ever see of him, then you wanted to commit every inch of his handsome face to memory.

‘How long are you here for?’

He asked suddenly, pulling you out of your trance, while still moving inside you.

‘Till tomorrow morning.’

‘What are you doing today?’

You had booked a day long tour today, filled with activities.

‘Nothing.’

His eyes twinkled happily, turning you into mush.

‘Good. Let me just sort out a few things & I’ll be back in a couple of hours, yeah?’

His mouth reached your breasts, sucking & nibbling in tune with his thrusts, making you work extra hard to string words together.

‘W-we can’t go outside.’

‘It’s fine, we’ll stay here.’

‘You don’t hv other plans?’

He very much did. Infact, the plans were heavily dependant on him, & he’d have to go sort it out soon.

‘Nope.’

‘Okay then.’

You closed your eyes, as he rocked you to ecstasy.

..........................................................................

I died a few times while writing this.

And I still have plans for the last day / final chapter. Someone kill me.

Would absolutely love to hear your thoughts here / in inbox. Thank you for the feedback and interest in this story - it kept me motivated to turn it around soon.

#jude bellingham #bellingham #jude #real madrid #jb5 #jb #jude fanfic #bellingham x reader #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham imagine #Jude bellingham blurb

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awkness · 2 months

Text

Serial killer! Platonic! Yandere Older Brother & Genderneutral Teenage Reader (Part 2)

(Part 1)

As reader tries to adjust to their new life without their father, a number of concerning incidents occur, including off-putting behavior from your brother, prevents that from happening. But despite everything, you make a new friend. Surely, this can only mean good things for you, right? Things must be looking up!

Content warnings: implied murder, manipulation, domestic abuse, briefly mentioned alcoholism and child abuse, and general yandere shenanigans. If I missed anything here, please let me know :3

Authors note: lmao I have no excuse for being this late I'm just slow. This was originally supposed to be the last chapter but it got too long so I had to split it up. It feels like a bit of filler but I promise we'll get to the good stuff soon it just needs some set up. Part 3 should be the last part so I'll try not to be too slow uploading (<- lying)

There were very few things about your father you liked, but his house was one of them. It was something he had inherited from his father, who Ben would inherit as soon your father could be pronounced legally dead. It came with a master bedroom, two normal bedrooms, a bathroom, a living room, a kitchen, the basement, and an attic.

The attic was something you had always been fascinated with as a child. It was spacious, fully insulated and even had an openable window. It could have been a bedroom all on its own. As a child, you had often daydreamed of moving your stuff up there, utilizing the bigger space for blanket forts and storing all the toys your little heart could desire. In reality, it was used in the same way the basement was, except it stored much more valuable items. Holiday decorations, clothes, old valuables that had no room to be displayed, and whatever family heirlooms your late father kept were shoved up above your head, taking space that could have been used for you. You had thought you had grown out of this fantasy, content with the room you had, but with your father gone and your brother running the house, the childhood dream had crept its way back into the front of your mind, tempting you with visions of a bigger, cooler room.

So, after working up the courage, you finally asked Ben if you could move up there. It surprised you just how easily he said yes.

And now you're here, Ben helping you sort through trash and treasure alike as you both clear out the room.

You pulled an unlabeled box from the seemingly endless pile, the top covered in dust and cobwebs. You try not to think about how many spiders are in the room with you now. Cleaning them out will be a trouble for another day.

The box opens easily, cardboard weak from age, a musty smell emanating from within. You look inside, only to be left dumbfounded. Why were there women's clothes in here?

"Hey, Ben, do you know whose clothes these are?"

Ben looks up from his own box, a vaguely confused look on his face. As he makes his way towards your box, you watch it drop into a frown.

"Those are moms."

"Oh." Is all you can say.

An awkward moment passes between you two as Ben stares into the box, face strange as he becomes lost in thought. You decide to break the tension.

"Why do you think he kept them?"

He looks away from the box and towards you, his body slowly beginning to relax.

"He was always a sentimental man, I guess that's reason enough for him."

You let out a snort. "What's there to be sentimental over? She cheated on him, divorced him, and then dumped us on him. She's not exactly a woman worth pining over."

"I'm not arguing with you, but you remember how he was. Couldn't ever let anything go."

He began rummaging through it, quickly getting to the bottom before closing it back up.

"Nothing but clothes. We should probably donate this."

You give a nod as you watch him put it in the growing donation pile. That was going to be such a pain to bring down to the car.

Instead of thinking about that, though, you turn your head to the box that Ben was searching through before you called him over.

"Is this one mom's too?"

Before you get an answer, you take a peek inside, only to once again be at a loss for how something like this could be in your home.

Inside was an assortment of strange objects. A broken polaroid camera, a stained photo album, and an array of metal objects like locks, deadbolts, and... were those shackles?

Before you could make out any more objects, Ben had made his way to you and reached over to close the flaps of the box.

"I doubt it, probably just more junk he couldn't throw away."

He turned around to you and smiled, hands holding the flaps shut.

"Want to do me a favor and go start bringing the donation boxes to the car?"

"Ugh, why do I have to bring them down?"

"Because you're the one who wanted to move up here."

You glared at him as his smile turned into an amused smirk, before you finally gave a huff and picked up a box from the pile.

"Jerk."

"Brat." The smile never left his face.

With only moderate trouble, you navigated your way down the stairs and out the door, making your way to the car. Unfortunately, you had only realized you forgot the keys when you tried to open the door to pop the trunk open.

You quietly mumble curses under your breath as you set the box next to the car, ready to make the trip back inside. Instead, you go completely still as you catch a look at the people across the street.

It was a small group of high schoolers your age, maybe older, who go to your school. They were standing the the yard across the street, a few houses down, talking together to throwing glances in your direction. Your ears strain as they try to make out their incoherent babble. They couldn't have known about your situation, could they? Or at least, what the official story was. It had been over a month since that happened, it doesn't make sense that they would be talking about it now. But you were just moving boxes out of the house such a short time after it happened. That looks suspicious, doesn't it? Of course it does. Why did you have to ask to move into the attic now?

You had been standing like a deer in headlights, openly staring for what felt like minutes before one of them seemingly made eye contact with you. You avert your gaze down as you feel your cheeks grow hot and your hands grow sweaty. A chorus of laughter erupts from the group.

Without thinking, you rush up to the door, fling it open, and slam directly into Ben as he was carrying. You hear it hit the floor as you speed walk past him.

"Wha- Hey! (Y/N)! What happened?"

You didn't reply. You barely even heard his words. Panic had fully taken over and kept you moving away from Ben, away from the door, away from the outside world, and all the judgemental people it contained.

You finally make it to your room, shutting the door behind you, and seating yourself on your bed, trying to get your bearings.

Tears begin stinging your eyes as your shaky hands try and wipe them away. You wonder if they were still laughing at you.

A soft knock comes from your door, and your body shrinks inward, unprepared for the upcoming talk.

"Kid? Can I come in?"

You don't reply. You know Ben is going to come in anyway.

He waits a beat before opening the door, his face the picture of concern. His footsteps are quiet, and his movements gentle as he sits next to you. You find your body leaning away from him.

"Want to tell me what happened?"

You shrug, turning your head away from him. Even if you did want to talk, you couldn't trust your voice right now.

"Alright, that's fine, we can figure it out together. Was it something to do with mom's clothes?"

You don't move. Maybe if you don't answer, he'll leave and let you deal with your embarrassment in peace.

"The attic?"

A pause.

"Something in the box you were carrying...? Or maybe something outside?"

You stiffen, and immediately try to make yourself relax. Maybe he didn't notice?

"Does this have something to do with the neighbors?"

Oh. Nevermind.

Despite your best efforts, your body language must have given you away again. You hear the bed creak as he gets up, the blinds rustling a moment later as he gives a huff.

"It's those kids across the street, isn't it?" His voice takes on an edge of irritation, and you feel yourself curl inwards again.

The bed shifts as he takes his seat next to you again, a comforting hand placed on your shoulder. His voice takes on the softer quality it had before.

"I can't help you if you don't help me, kid. Did they talk to you?"

You shake your head, trying to talk, but finding the words stuck in your throat.

"They-" Your voice falters and you clear your throat, barely able to speak above a whisper.

"They didn't have to. I could see them looking at me and laughing, I knew they were talking about me, just like all the neighbors do whenever they see us. It's like they know. And these-"

You sniff, snot beginning to run and throat burning as you talk. Ben squeezes your shoulder, and you continue.

"These people go to my school, Ben. They know me. When I have to go back, they'll talk and tell everyone and the whole school will know what happened. They'll treat me different, they'll ask questions, and I won't know what to tell them-"

Your quivering voice finally gives out, and you cover your face. Ragged, irregular breaths come out as you try to force back the wave of emotions you've just unleashed. Gently, Ben pulls you to his chest as he rubs your back, murmuring gentle reassurances you couldn't quite hear.

Moments pass until your breathing finally evens out, eyes dry but still red and puffy. You slowly pull back and he lets you, his face full of worry. His hand still remains on your shoulder, an ever-present weight.

"You've had this on your mind for a long time, haven't you?"

You give a feeble nod. The thought of having to return to school had been weighing on you, but you hadn't realized how bad it had been until now. The thought is almost enough to send you spiraling again.

"I don't want to go back."

Ben gives you a smile. "You don't have to."

Your mind freezes for an instant, any and all thought muddled into incohereency.

"What?"

"Why don't I sign you up for online school this year? I remember you talking about wanting to do it a couple of months back, so why not now?"

"I..."

Your brows furrow. You did tell Ben that you wanted to do online school a couple of months ago before summer started. But this wasn't a new wish. You had been dreaming of being homeschooled since you had dreamed of living in the attic. Troubles in finding friends and fitting in had always followed you throughout the years until you realized the futility of it all, and only dreamt of a home where you didn't have to leave, and Ben and you could spend your days in peace. But the reality of your father's abuse had made school a begrudgingly safe haven of yours and you had slowly given up on that dream, too. But now that it was fully within your hands, you found yourself hesitating. Why? There was no monster in your home anymore, you were safe, and there's no reason to say no.

"I don't know."

He smiled.

"It wouldn't have to be permanent, just for this year. And if you don't like it, I can reenroll you back into your old school, so your options are always open. Plus, you're right, (Y/N). I know how cruel kids can be, especially when they're confronted with situations and people they don't understand. I don't want you to face that if you don't have to."

You gnaw on your lip, unsure of what to say. Ben was right on all accounts, the things he was saying made sense, and yet you couldn't find yourself saying yes. Why couldn't you let yourself have this?

"Can I think on it?"

Ironically, it came out of your mouth before you could think at all.

He nodded, his good-humored smile still on his face. You let out a small breath, so glad to still see it there.

"Of course, kid, it's a big decision. Take your time."

He gave your shoulder one last pat before getting up.

"I'm going to move the rest of the boxes in the car and go drop them off. You want me to pick up dinner on the way back?"

"Yeah, I'm fine with whatever."

"Alright. Rest up, I'll be back soon."

Unable to say much else, you nod as he gives you one last smile before he heads out the door, closing it behind him.

You rub your eyes, your body slowly unwinding from the tension just moments prior, until it gives in and you lay down on your bed.

With nothing else left to do, you crawl under your covers, the familiar comfort of the soft and worn fabric soothing your nerves. Distantly, you hear the sound of Ben's footsteps as he makes his way back and forth from the attic, the familiar and comforting sound lulling you into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning was pretty uneventful. Ben was off at work while you continued clearing the attic, sorting out the junk and keepsakes, only occasionally getting scared by the stray spiders that had made their home in the crevices between the boxes.

By noon, everything was sorted, with the only thing left being to take the boxes to be donated or tossed in the trash. But you needed Ben to help you with that, so you found yourself heading down to the kitchen, heating instant noodles in the microbe, wondering what you were going to do until he got home.

Around this time is when you usually went to go check the mail, but since yesterday, the thought of having to leave the house left you with an uneasy feeling, tension building in your spine and shoulders the longer you thought of it. A part of you was ashamed that you couldn't even walk out to the mailbox without it being a big deal, and another, much larger part, found immense relief in the thought of abandoning the task altogether, and not having any more chance encounters like yesterday. The more you considered it, the more you found your body sagging in relief. Yeah, Ben can grab it when he gets home, you're sure he wouldn't mind. It's no big deal.

The microwave beeps and you grab the noodles, all thought of the outside quickly leaving your head.

You had just dumped the flavor packet in when you heard a knock at the door.

Your heart, ashamed you were to admit, skipped a beat, and you froze mid-action, breath catching roughly in your throat. Who could that be? Maybe that was Ben, and he had just forgot his keys? No, that's stupid, he wouldn't be home this early, and he never forgets his keys. With no other answers coming to mind, you quietly set the packet down and got up to the door to peek through the peephole.

On the other side of the door stood one of your neighbors, a kid your age. You see him the most often out of all of your neighbors, often doing yard work and tending to the flowers in his front yard. He was also the guy you caught staring at you the most. Well, maybe staring wasn't completely accurate, but whenever you looked his way, you two would usually make eye contact before one of you shyly looked away. You didn't know why, and it played havoc on your nerves. He wore a hoodie despite the summer heat and had an envelope in his hand. He looked nervous.

You pull away and bring your hand to undo the locks before stopping.

For one glorious, tempting moment, you picture yourself turning around, going back to your noodles, and taking them upstairs and away from the door to eat in peace until Ben comes home.

Instead, you undo the locks and open the door.

Your neighbor looks slightly taken aback like he didn't expect anyone to answer. You try not to notice.

"Hello?" You ask.

"Oh, uh, hi! I'm Alex, your neighbor. I live right next to you, the house to the right, well- uh, my right, your left. The one with the red car and lawn gnomes out front?"

He gestures sheepishly towards his house, face nearing the complexion of a tomato.

"Nice to meet you, Alex. I'm (Y/N)."

The social protocols of politeness take over, unable to fully pay attention as your mind stalls, still in a state of shock from the anxiety of the situation.

"(Y/N)? That's a nice name." He smiles at you before quickly looking at the ground.

He hands the envelope over to you, speaking as you look over it.

"Uh, I just wanted to drop this off. I think our mail got mixed up."

Sure enough, the envelope had your brother's name and address on it.

"Oh, thank you." You say lamely.

For a beat, you wonder if you should say something more. It felt wrong to just leave the conversation as it was and close the door, but what else were you supposed to say? Before you can think about it, he speaks again.

"I, uh, wanted to say that I heard about what happened to your dad, and I'm sorry."

Again, your heartbeat skips, and you stiffen, body alert, eyes wide. You probably look like a deer caught in headlights in front of him if he wasn't still looking at the ground. The thought would embarrass you if it weren't for the sharp spike of adrenaline hitting your veins.

"I... I had a dad like him too."

And just like that, your body pauses its panic response, and you find yourself fully focused on him as he continues.

"I thought it would be easier after me and my mom moved away, and it has been, but those kinds of experiences don't just go away, and I wanted to say that you aren't alone."

You still felt a little wired from the previous scares, you you felt a strange sense of ease slowly pass through you at his words.

You stare at him, as he stares down, no words passing between you two before you finally speak.

"Thank you."

You only hesitate for a moment before continuing.

"It has been rough, but it's been more of a relief than anything. It's nice not having to hide away in my room until he leaves."

He looks up, a small smile gracing his face as he finally relaxes.

"Yeah, it's nice not having to check to see if he passed out in the house again."

You find your lips quirking up. "Or having to check his pulse when he is passed out."

"Not having to worry about him throwing a fit whenever he runs out of beer despite him being the one who drank it all."

"Not having to constantly hide food in your room so you have a supply when he does throw his tantrums"

Alex gave a disbelieving laugh.

"Yours let you get food out of the kitchen? There was a lock on the fridge and pantry when I lived with mine."

Your smile widened into one of disbelief, amusement, and shock. "What the hell? Why?"

"Kept getting upset that the food would go missing. Worst part is, every time he got blackout drunk, he'd binge eat, pass out and get mad at us for eating all the food."

You couldn't help it. You started giggling, and he started giggling, unable to react in any other way to the absurdity of it all.

"Sorry! I really shouldn't laugh-" You began, failing to stifle the laughter.

"Don't be!" He said. "He's a stupid guy, you should laugh at him."

You both share the moment, the laughter slowly dying down as you both take your first good look at each other. In this moment, you see something you can't help but talk about.

"Is that a minecraft necklace?"

He looks surprised, but pleasantly so. He glances down before holding it up with a grin. The pendant was the shape of a creeper head.

"Yeah, I'm a big fan!"

He puts it back down and his demeanor changes back to being sheepish, but not painfully so like he was before.

"I have minecraft for Xbox and a spare controller at my house. If you want, you can come over and play?"

It was your turn to be nervous again.

On one hand, you wanted to say 'absolutely'. You couldn't remember the last time you got invited to hang out, and the thought of something as normal as playing a video game with a friend was something you needed. Well, maybe you couldn't call him a friend yet, but you feel like you could, given enough time. Plus, after being so afraid of your neighbors and leaving your house, having someone come up to you and act so warm and friendly made you feel soft. It was hard to say no to that.

On the other hand, you had the nagging, unnameable feeling that Ben would be, upset, but you couldn't think up any concrete reason as to why. In fact, if you focused on that feeling too long, your mind went blank.

Sure, you were going about out of the house without him knowing, but Ben has always been supportive of you. Sure, he's never really discussed rules about going over to a friend's house because the situations never come up, but he's fairly easygoing. You were sure that if you explained why you went, he would be understanding. Happy, even.

Plus, you were only going next door, you had your phone on you, and you would be back before Ben came home, so it's not like he had to even know what happened. Not that you wanted to lie to him, but something about that option comforted you more than any of the other things you listed.

Discomfort pushed aside, you gave a smile back to Alex.

"Sure thing, let me grab my phone."

It could have been the perfect hangout. Alex's mom was nice, bringing you two snacks and telling stories from Alex's childhood despite his embarrassment, as you two hung out in the living room while he helped you figure out the controls. Soon enough, you two were building a base together, laughing at each other as a creeper or sneaky skeleton would get kills on you both.

You were halfway through making the third story of the base when your phone started ringing. You felt your heart drop to your stomach when you saw Ben's picture on the screen.

"Shit."

You immediately pocketed in and got up.

"What's wrong?" He paused the game and looked up.

"I wasn't supposed to stay so late, my brother's probably home by now."

You went over to the window and peeked through the blinds, and as fate would have it, you saw his car in the driveway.

You hear Alex speak from the couch, voice slightly concerned.

"You're not going to get in trouble, are you?"

That was the question, wasn't it?

"I... don't think so. Maybe? I've never been out late before."

"If you want, I can come with you and explain what happened. I'll take the blame."

Despite your growing worry, you felt a pang of gratitude come through. You gave a small smile.

"That's okay, he'll probably be a little mad, but I don't think it's that serious."

You headed to the door, Alex following behind.

"Hey, on the chance you don't get grounded or whatever, here's my phone number."

You look back and see him scribbling on a piece of paper before he hands it over to you. You take it and look at sloppy, but thankfully still legible writing, and give a bigger, more genuine smile.

"I'll text you later. If I still have my phone, that is." You joke, or at least try to.

He gives a smile and a wave as you turn back and exit the front door.

As it closes behind you, the warmth of the interaction slowly leaches from you and leaves you feeling cold and rattled.

You didn't fully believe the things you said to Alex. You had no real idea what Ben would like because you had never gone against what he said before. The thought alone turned your stomach into knots. It was simply how you two functioned, Ben was the one in charge and made the big decisions, and you listened. Sure, he never had any explicit rules about this, but that didn't mean anything.

As you made the short walk to your home, you began strategizing.

You should do damage control right away, start apologizing straight away, and let him know where you were and what you were doing. Wait, should you mention Alex? At that thought, you shoved the paper with his number deep in your pocket. You didn't want Ben to see it.

Before you could think about it anymore, you were at your front door. Your back tensed, and you hesitated only a moment before opening the door. Waiting would only make it worse.

Before you can fully step in, you see Ben pacing the kitchen, brows furrowed, face strained. As soon as he heard you, his head whipped up, and you felt yourself freeze like a rabbit spotted by a wolf. Frozen, unable to do anything else than stare.

"(Y/N)?"

Just like that, you were broken out of your trance, finally allowed to move again.

You step in all the way and close the door behind you.

"I'm sorry! I didn't think I'd be out that long, I wasn't keeping track of time, I-"

Your voice died the moment you looked back to Ben's face, his features looked so... angry. You've never seen him look at you like that before, never seen him look like that at all. It set off a loud, blaring warning in your brain that something was wrong, and that you needed to leave. But that was crazy. This is Ben, your brother, you were fine.

You tried to start again.

"I was..."

It tapered off as you saw him move towards you, movement swift and robotic as he kept his attention on you. Without thinking, you shrunk back.

"Ben-"

Before you could finish he's in front of you, grabbing your shoulders so tightly it's borderline painful. You grip his arms, weakly trying to push away, knowing better than to seriously try.

"Where were you?"

There was such a dangerous edge to his voice that you couldn't think, couldn't look away. Your breaths came out shallow and your voice so tiny you could barely hear it.

"With the neighbors."

That only made him angrier.

"What neighbors? We don't talk to the neighbors here."

Oh, you were shaking now.

"With- with the neighbors right next to us, the Rogers. I was hanging out with Alex-"

"Who the Hell is Alex?"

His grip got tighter as he shook you, and you could feel the bruises forming. You started pushing at him again, but your arms trembled so badly you might as well not have tried.

"B-Ben, it hurts."

Your voice was so thick with emotion that it was hardly coherent, but Ben understood.

His face blanked for a moment, body shocked to stillness as you continued to try and leave. Then, without warning, he let you go, turned his back and walked a few paces away from you, pinching his nose as he let out a sharp breath.

You listen to him as he takes deep breaths while you rub your sore arms, snot beginning to run as your eyes turn wet. As you step away, you feel your back pressed against the door, and you have the fleeting idea to open it and run away. You realize what you're thinking, and the idea terrifies you so deeply you stay rooted to the spot.

Finally, Ben turns back, face still hardened but not as severely as before.

"Who's Alex?"

You sniff. You really didn't want to do this anymore.

"He's the neighbor's kid. Our mail got mixed up and he brought it over to me, and invited me over to hang out."

You probably should have stopped there, but some scared, hurt part of you needed Ben to understand that you didn't mean this, it wasn't your fault. Your voice cracked as you continued.

"I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry. It was only supposed for a little bit, I didn't think I would be over for so long, just an hour or two. I- I didn't mean for this to happen, I should- I should of called you."

You stopped, but only because the shaking in your hands had spread to your voice, and you didn't think you could keep going without sounding like a complete mess.

His face didn't soften for a moment, staring blankly as you had gone on. After it ended, he closed his eyes, rubbed his face and gave a sharp sigh.

You couldn't read him when he looked away. Was he calming down? Did that make him more upset? Every second that ticked by frayed your already worn-out nerves. You were only one yell away from bursting into tears.

He looked up again, face the same as it was before.

"Do you know what it's like to come home with the door unlocked and see you missing, with no goddamn clue where you could be? What was I supposed to think? You didn't even pick up your damn phone!"

He stopped, took a breath, and then continued, a dangerously calm edge to his voice.

"And then you tell me you decided to stay over at a stranger's house without calling me? A person you only met today? They could of been anybody, anything could happened to you. I thought you had better sense than that."

It stung.

"I'm sorry."

It sounded small and pathetic, even to your own ears.

He let out a sigh.

"Go to your room. We'll talk about this more later."

You don't think twice. You rush away on shaky legs to your room and quietly close the door behind you, afraid of doing anything else to set him off. The bed lets out a soft creak as you sit down. You gather your quivering hands in your lap and look down on them, not sure what to do with yourself.

Before you can think about it any further, you hear the front door open and slam shut, then the car turning on and driving away.

As it quiets down, you can't help it. Stifled sobs climb their way out of your chest, feeling like they're choking you until you can't resist anymore. You collapse on your bed, openly crying until you exhaust yourself to sleep.

The next morning felt almost surreal. You woke up to hearing Ben walking about the house as he did his morning routine. Usually, you would be out of the room right now doing the same, with you both then sitting down to eat breakfast together until it was time for him to leave. This time, you stayed in bed the entire time, idly scrolling your phone as you listened to his footsteps.

A part of you expected him to knock at your door, and ask you why you weren't out yet. Instead, you heard the sizzle of eggs hitting a hot pan as they cooked, and after a short few moments, the front door opening, closing, and locking behind him. The familiar sounds of the car's engine slowly faded away, and you finally got out of your bed, ready to start your day.

You decided to text Alex. You were hesitant to give the details of what happened, simply saying that Ben was upset and things were tense, and thankfully, Alex never pushed it. Instead, he started sending you memes and talking about his ideas for the minecraft world you both started. It was surprising how easy it was to talk to him, the conversation going for hours before he had to leave to help with dinner.

When it was time for Ben to come home, you scurried back to your room, feeling relieved but guilty when you closed the door. On one hand, you could still feel the fear you had last night, and you had no idea what to do with it. It was perplexing and off-putting, and thinking too hard on it made you feel like your brain was turning to static, so you opted to not think about it at all, which meant avoiding your brother as well.

But the guilt wouldn't let you be. It turned what should have been the comfort of your room into a place of wrongness, that you were doing something awful by keeping yourself here and not going down to see him like you usually did. Your lip began to bleed, and only then you realized you had been chewing on it since you heard Ben's car pull in.

You contemplated texting Alex for a distraction as you heard him make his way into the house. And then, step by step, make his way way to the hallway, and then to your door.

And then, the knock.

"Can I come in?"

You don't know if you want to answer, so you don't.

"I know you're awake, kid. Your lights on."

Thoughts raced through your mind as you tried to figure out what to do. For a moment, your mind latched onto the idea that you could pretend to be asleep, but you immediately shrugged it off. This was going to happen anyway, might as well happen now.

"Come in."

The door opens, and you see Ben, completely exhausted, his gaze nervously flitting towards you and the floor as he carried a fast food bag in his hand.

"I brought dinner."

You instinctively perk up at the mention of food, and he takes that as a sign to step closer and sit on the far side of the bed, bag between you two, as he clasped his hands together. His leg starts to quickly bounce before he stops it.

"Figured I'd pick up something on the way home. Didn't feel like cooking.

You nod, even though there's something in you that compels you to do or say more to try and ease his nerves. Even now, after what he did, you hate to see him upset. You try to push the urge to comfort down as you pointedly look away.

Both of you sit in silence while looking anywhere but at each other. In your peripheral, you can see him fidgeting with his hands.

"I know I scared you last night, I just-"

He nervously shifts in his seat. His voice is halting but sincere.

"It worried me, seeing you gone. You mean so much to me, (Y/N). Ever since you were born, I've been there to take care of you. I can't remember a time without you, and I don't want to. You're a part of me, without you, I... I don't even know who I am."

You look over at him and freeze. You're big brother, the man who protected you and cared for you your whole life, is bunched in on himself, face strained and twitching with barely contained emotion as he doggedly stares directly ahead, like looking at you would hurt him. His eyes are red and dark circles frame them. You swallow, years of experience screaming at you to reach over and comfort him, but instead, you sit, never once looking away as he continues talking.

"I shouldn't have done that to you, kid. I should of known better. Should of contained myself. I try so hard for you, but there's times it feels like it isn't enough, and it keeps me up at night."

He sniffs, and your eyes begin to blur.

"I never wanted to be like that in front of you, you didn't deserve to see that. I-"

He wipes his hands over his face, taking a deep breath as he tries to collect himself. After a beat, he uncovers his face and finally looks at you.

"I'm sorry."

It was like a spell had been broken. You found yourself pushing a food to the side and leaning against his shoulder. He hesitantly wrapped his arm around you, and when you didn't resist, he reached his other arm around you, pulled you into his chest, and began softly rocking you back and forth.

You feel the rise and fall of his chest, and it feels the same as you did as a kid when you would run up to him when something scared you, or when you felt your emotions overwhelm you. He would hold you tight and it felt like you were in the safest place in the world. The relief of that feeling after everything you had been through was like coming home.

Still safely tucked in his arms, you spoke again, voice more quiet and child-like than you meant it to be.

"Promise me you won't do that again."

The mere thought of him acting so uncontrollably and violently towards you was enough to make you nauseous.

He squeezed you tight.

"I promise, kid, never again."

You nodded, unable to reply. The both of you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity before he slowly began letting you go.

After getting fully untangled, you rub your eyes, a feeling of exhaustion settling in as your stomach rumbles.

"I'm hungry."

"Hi hungry, I'm Ben."

His reply is so quick, you think it's automatic for him.

You shoot him a glare, but it's undermined by your smile. He returns it with one of his own.

"You wanna go down and eat? I got you a milkshake too, it's down in the kitchen. But might be a bit melted by now."

You spring up, fast food bag in hand as you make your way towards the door.

"Why didn't you say so, let's go!"

You hear him let out a chuckle, and you let out one reflectively, too.

You both share the meal together, talking and laughing late into the evening, until it was finally time to sleep. You drifted off easily into a deep, restful sleep, finally at peace.

#yandere #yandere platonic #platonic yandere #yandere original character #yandere oc #yandere x reader #x reader #gn reader

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