#nobody is talking within me and it brings me terror | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

domjaehyun · 3 years

Text

pussy fiend (l.dh)

PAIRING ➢ haechan x fem!reader

GENRES & AUS ➢ smut, humor, fluff; college au, enemies to fuckbuddies to lovers, roommate au

WORD COUNT ➢ 68.9k total, in 2 parts (28.2k & 40.7k)

WARNINGS ➢ invasion of privacy, Haechan’s a sneaky little shit, cocky!Haechan, jokes about emotional manipulation, author pretends to know about stuff she doesn’t, mild dubcon

CONTENTS ➢ (mild) dubcon, bratty switches! boffum!, somnophilia, oral (receiving), allusions to a free-use kink but barely, rimming (receiving), creampie, dacryphilia, brief thigh job, praise, barely degradation but if you’re sensitive note that, some spit kink, panty sucking (?), Haechan’s a bit of a pain slut, fingering, biting

SUMMARY ➢ uhhh he likes you and is a fiend for pussy idk bestie

AUTHOR’S NOTE ➢ long time no see! please consider sending a donation/tip if you enjoy the fic! please do not get upset with me if you ignore the contents/warnings and get your feelings hurt; that is no one’s doing but yours. if you enjoy the fic, please consider tipping me here or here!! ALSO massive thank you to my love @ncteez for all her help with the initial idea and beta reading this monster for me :')

PART TWO FOUND HERE !!

“Listen,” You start off with a firm tone as you look out at your audience. “We need to address the elephant in the room.” You say as you shoot your tormentor a disdainful look, your frown deepening when he just smirks and winks at you. “Ever since Lee Donghyuck, also known as Haechan, has moved into this apartment, my life has not known peace. I truly believe there is a karmic imbalance somewhere in the universe now that he lives here.”

“It is unlawful—dare I say immoral, even—to have him terrorize me the way that he does. If we are to continue to allow him to run amok and unchecked, I do believe this could be the beginning of the end. I fear that snakes may begin manifesting in our home.” You finish your speech with a fearful shudder for dramatic effect, and look at your other two roommates for their responses.

“…We can’t kick him out,” Yena has the audacity to whisper loudly to you from the couch as if the four of you aren’t all well within earshot. “If he goes, Jeno goes, and we need their rent money.”

Jeno nods in agreement. “I would have to go, yeah.”

“…Fair point,” You mutter, frowning. “I suppose you can stay until I find someone better.” You narrow your eyes at Haechan, who wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“You’ll be looking for a while, babe,” Haechan replies, grinning as he leans back against the couch cushion, folding his hands behind his head. “There’s nobody better than me.”

“I would rather live with an undomesticated porcupine that panics and shoots quills at me every time I startle it.” You reply, staring him dead in the eyes and ignoring Yena’s amused but dismissive scoff.

“You’re so hot when you’re mean to me.” Haechan coos, and you grimace, glaring at him. “Fuck, just like that.”

“This is not a whorehouse!” You exclaim in alarm, hopping off of the couch to get away from a grinning Haechan. “Have you no shame?”

“Why are you talking like that?” Yena snickers. “All hoity-toity and stuff.”

“I don’t know,” You grumble, jabbing an accusing finger in Haechan’s direction. “He brings out the worst in me.”

“O…kay…” Yena trails off, looking around at the three of you and waiting for someone to say something. No one does, and she slaps her knees lightly and stands up. “Okay! Well…this is the beginning of our house meeting, and I brought in something called a ‘feelings stick’ so we can address our emotions!” She explains, handing Jeno a thick, almost cylindrical piece of wood with neon paint splotches on it.

“Uh…how do you use a ‘feelings stick,’ anyway?” Jeno asks as he turns the decorated piece of wood over in his hand, brows furrowed as he sizes up the stick.

“I saw it on New Girl!” Yena says, her excitement creeping into her response, and you smile encouragingly at her. “We start our statements with ‘I feel,’ and that way we, uh… feel more personally connected to the conversation or something.”

“Is that how they did it on New Girl?” Haechan asks, and Yena pauses to think.

“…It didn’t really work on New Girl, actually.” She recalls, and a silence fills the living room as you, Jeno, and Haechan look at each other.

“Maybe because this is an apartment roommate meeting and not group therapy?” You suggest helpfully, and Yena frowns at you, causing you to raise your hands in surrender immediately. “What do I know, right? Hey, Jeno, pass me the stick.” You say, taking it from his outstretched hand and turning it around in your palm. “I feel,” You start, looking at Yena for approval, who beams and gives you a thumbs up, “grateful to Yena for coming up with ways for us to communicate more effectively.”

“I feel appreciated,” Yena replies, smiling widely.

“I feel…a bit frustrated when Jeno leaves the toilet seat up sometimes.” You continue, and Jeno nods.

“I feel, uh, sorry?” Jeno says slowly, and when you nod and smile at him, he grins proudly.

“I feel heard.” You nod resolutely, your smile fading when you lay eyes on Haechan, who’s watching you with an expectant smirk. “I feel like you should move out.” You say plainly, and Haechan laughs, your words clearly not hitting him where you wanted them to.

“I feel so close to you right now,” Haechan responds with a teasing grin, and you narrow your eyes.

“I feel bloodlust.”

“Hey!” Yena whispers at you, but you ignore her.

“I feel homicidal.” You continue, still ignoring Yena when she whispers your name as a warning, your gaze trained unwaveringly on Haechan. “I feel like you get on my very last nerve and I feel like Yena and I should have just gotten a smaller, cheaper apartment so I wouldn’t have to put up with your incessant flirting, and I feel like if you try to use the bathroom while I’m showering one more fucking time, I’m going to squirt soap in your eyes.”

“I feel like you should lock the door, then,” Haechan counters smoothly. Your eye twitches.

“I feel like you’ve forgotten that Yena lives here and might need to use the bathroom while I shower.” You retort, and Haechan shifts forward, elbows resting on his knees as he stares you down with a challenge glinting in his eye.

“I feel like you’re not being impartial.”

“I feel like you’re a nitwit.”

“I feel…kinda turned on now, actually.” Haechan chuckles, his tongue running along his lip.

“I feel like violence really might be the answer sometimes, especially if the question is ‘what do I want to commit whenever I see Haechan?’” You snap, and Yena lunges at you, snatching the feelings stick from your hands before you can use it as some sort of weapon.

“I feel like this started out well and went sour quickly,” Yena says hurriedly, “and I feel like this meeting should be concluded and maybe tried again later.”

“I feel like you’re right,” You agree, casting one last disapproving look at Haechan before sighing heavily and pulling out your phone, preparing to scroll idly. As you settle into your spot on the couch and cross your legs, Yena leans against the couch beside you, already on her phone. Jeno settles in across from you on the opposite couch, tentatively lifting his legs to place them on the coffee table, and Haechan sits back in his spot beside Jeno, half-scrolling on his phone, half-watching you.

“So can we go?” Jeno asks, looking at you, and you shrug, gesturing at Yena with your thumb.

“Ask Yena,” You mouth, and he nods in understanding.

“Yena?” Jeno asks, eyes darting to you for confirmation, which you give via a small nod, “I was wondering if we’re free to go.”

“Sure,” She sighs, slightly deflated, and your heart pangs, feeling apologetic for messing with the house meeting. You genuinely didn’t mean to; Haechan just has a very specific way of getting under your skin and, unfortunately for you, he’s fully aware of it and exploits it at every opportunity, claiming it’s hot when you’re mad at him.

Your little back and forth with Haechan wasn’t actually always like this; when you two met last spring in freshman year, Haechan was a perfectly fine person to be around; clearly fine enough for you to agree to living with him. Somewhere down the line, his overall teasing remarks and flirtatious advances started becoming less general and more targeted. Specifically, targeted at you.

It wasn’t long before you grew aggravated with his direct advances and deliberately persistent attempts to hit on you, only made more annoying when you realized he flirted with a bunch of other girls. Your lack of interest only seemed to increase Haechan’s determination tenfold, a dynamic which only got worse once the two of you started living under one roof at the beginning of this school year. You’re now in your fourth semester of college and almost entirely sick of Haechan’s antics.

“Hey, do you know a girl named Heoni?” Jeno asks you, and you perk your head up at the name, smiling brightly.

“I do! She’s a sweetheart; isn’t she the girl in Mark’s art class that he’s, like, pretty much obsessed with?” You ask, and Jeno nods in confirmation.

“Yep, that’s the one. Mark’s asking if she would know anyone here enough to want to hang out later.”

“She definitely knows me enough, and I would hope she likes me enough,” You answer with an uncertain shrug. “If Mark needs it, I’ll come hang out. Aw, they fit together; she’s super cute, Mark’s super cute–”

“Please stop hitting on my friends,” Haechan groans.

“No.” You reply immediately, and Jeno looks between the two of you with a baffled expression.

“I–I thought–weren’t we just setting Mark up with Heo–” Jeno looks at you with his head cocked to the side in confusion and you put a finger to your lips, the male catching on several beats later, his confused expression morphing into one of understanding as he nods and says nothing.

“Why not?” Haechan complains, and you set your phone on your lap and look up at him with a smile.

“Because it clearly bothers you.” You reply, and Haechan huffs.

“Please?” When you shake your head at him, he sucks his teeth and continues, “I’ll just sabotage your every attempt.”

“How are you gonna do that?” You chuckle skeptically.

“I’ll tell them all that you’re crazy…insane, even.”

“They literally know me, Haechan,” You laugh as you rise from the couch and head past him to your room, shooting Jeno an amused look as he sits on the opposite couch. “Plus, isn’t there a thing that says crazy girls are good in bed?” Your journey to your room is stopped short by Haechan quite literally throwing himself at your feet, on his knees as he whines and grovels, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a fascinating sight.

“Please,” He begs, looking up at you pleadingly, “It’ll kill me if any of them get to be with you! Please don’t let me find out you’re going with any of my friends.” Haechan hangs his head sadly, and you fake a cough to hide your snicker, eyes darting to a very amused Jeno who’s got his phone out and aimed at you two, apparently recording for blackmail purposes.

You pat Haechan’s head in a sympathetic gesture. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He says hopefully, looking up at you, and you nod.

“Yeah. You won’t find out if I fuck any of your friends.” You say with a smile, and his quick shift into a panicked expression is instant, evoking yet another cough-laugh from you. “You might not want to ask Jaemin about me, then.” You warn him, and Haechan’s eyes widen in horror.

“What?” He exclaims loudly, and you step around him, patting his head again for good measure.

“Bye,” You coo, dragging out the word as you head to your room, relishing in the sound of Haechan’s alarmed, rapid speech pattern as he tries to make sense of what you’ve just told him.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

“I’m just saying that Jar Jar Binks has no visible sex organs–”

“Would you rather they be visible?” Yena cuts you off, alarmed yet amused as she looks over her shoulder at you, blindly feeling for her toast after the toaster goes off on the counter she’s facing. Pinching one piece, she winces, dropping it back in the toaster as she shakes her hand. “Why are you trying to see the sex organs of Jar Jar Binks, anyway? Do you wanna fuck him or something?” She laughs, and you shoot her a look, one Yena knows all too well to be the look you give before you choose chaos on purpose.

“Maybe I’m trying to be Mrs. Jar Jar Binks,” You reply with a sly grin, and Yena bursts out laughing. Your curiosity piques when Yena appears to spot something over your shoulder that makes her laughter build, turning yourself around in your chair a moment too late to see a freshly awake and washed up Haechan already moving to lean against the island next to where you’re sitting. A quick scan of his frame grants you a view of his black t-shirt, his grey sweats, and his–

“It’s nine in the morning,” You stress, looking away from him quickly and covering your eyes.

“Well, good morning to you, too,” He chuckles. “I can’t control it,” He defends himself, “but I see you caught an eyeful.”

“It looked at me first!” You yelp defensively, and Haechan laughs as he shoots Yena a friendly nod in greeting and slides his gaze back over to you, a mischievous smirk curling his lips as he wiggles his eyebrows.

“Anyway, is that why you won’t give me a chance?” Haechan asks with a sly, teasing grin, turning so his back is against the island and his elbows are resting on the surface behind him, giving him the freedom to observe you freely without having to crane his head. Thankfully, something about the shift in his position gives you the ability to acknowledge him without bearing witness to his…friend. “Is your type Jar Jar Binks?”

“The reasons why I don’t want to fuck you have nothing to do with Jar Jar Binks and everything to do with your personal character flaws,” You reply dismissively, turning away from him dramatically and focusing on Yena, who hands you a freshly buttered slice of toast and the strawberry jam.

“…Character flaws…” Haechan says slowly, a smile growing on his face, and you turn to look at him, giving him a judgmental once over.

“Yes?” You reply, confused. “What, was that too big of a word for you?”

“Character flaws as in personality traits…” Haechan continues, his smile widening even more, and you shoot him an annoyed glare.

“You take as long as you need to process those two words, Haechan,” You say as condescendingly as possible, baffled by how dense he’s being. His actions become clear when he grins triumphantly, leaning closer to you and filling your nose with the scent of minty toothpaste and the fabric softener he uses.

“So it’s not my appearance,” Haechan finally gets to the point, and you freeze mid-chew, annoyed you slipped up and even more annoyed that he caught it. “So if my personality was different, I’d have a chance…”

“No,” You reply quickly–too quickly, actually, if Haechan’s eyes lighting up with determination are anything to go off of. “No!” You try again, more insistently, but you can tell it’s too late as he pushes off of the counter and wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Too late! Gonna go study Jar Jar Binks videos and copy his mannerisms,” Haechan announces, heading back towards his room.

“You freak, I still won’t fuck you!”

“Can’t hear you!” Haechan replies in a sing-song lilt. “Meesa leaving…meesa plotting…meesa studying…”

“You’re doing it wrong!” You quip as he rounds the corner out of sight, and he pops his head back, puckering his lips at you in a smug little air-kiss.

“That’s what the studying’s for.” He shoots you a wink and disappears once more, leaving you to groan in annoyance.

“I can’t stand him, actually,” You groan, setting your toast back on the plate as you frown.

“I really don’t think I get why, though,” Yena replies, leaning her elbows onto the island on the other side of you, her head cocked to the side in confusion as she chews on a piece of cored apple. “I mean, you guys are actually pretty similar.”

You stare at her blankly. “…That is actually the most offensive thing you’ve ever said to me,” You deadpan, and Yena rolls her eyes as she laughs at you. “You should have just killed me when you had the chance–it would’ve hurt less.”

“See? You’re dramatic just like him!” Yena points out, and you glare at her until she backtracks, raising her hands in surrender. “I recant my statement.”

“Thank you,” You reply, disgruntled. You look around, craning your head to see down the hallway where Haechan’s and Jeno’s rooms are, and, seeing nothing, lean forward to speak in a lowered voice. “Listen–is he hot? Yes. Is he sex on legs? …Yes. Is it actually devastating how attractive he is? …Yes,” You say, your train of thought slowing to a stop at the growing smug smile on Yena’s face. “…Am I now realizing that I’m making the opposite of my point? Yes.” You mutter shamefully, hopping off of your chair to walk over to the fridge and pull out various fruits to wash, chop, and blend into a smoothie.

“I’m just saying,” Yena sing-songs.

“And you will say no more!” You whisper forcefully, and she rolls her eyes, biting into another piece of apple before she pantomimes locking her lips and throwing away the key. You reach to unplug the toaster and plug in the blender, struggling due to your lack of a visual on the outlets themselves. The plug scrapes and skids along the wall several times before you huff and give up, flinging the cord down in frustration and deciding to prepare the ingredients first and try again later. “Finding that socket is impossible,” You grumble. “This must be how guys feel during sex.”

“Can’t relate,” Haechan’s voice comes out of nowhere, and you shout in alarm, whipping around to see him beside you, fully dressed and opening the fridge to get a bottle of soda, grinning with satisfaction.

“Literally was not speaking to you.” You say, blinking impassively at him. “Wait, why are you dressed? It’s Saturday,” You ask, confused, and Haechan looks over at you while he twists open the cap on the bottle (you watch his hands working on the cap for an embarrassingly long time, but you’d rather stick a fork in an outlet than admit to that) and takes a sip.

“Going to the library,” He explains when he finishes swallowing, and, no, you did not watch his Adam’s apple move…oh, who are you kidding? “I’ll be back soon, babe; don’t worry.” He teases, and you echo him with a mocking expression as you tilt your head from side to side. “I’m such a fan of our little lovers’ quarrels,” Haechan muses as he slowly makes his way to the front door, walking backwards to keep his eyes on you. “So I can’t stay away from you for too long.”

“Do you ever cringe at the corny stuff you say?” Yena asks curiously, and Haechan looks over at her as he shakes his head.

“Nope,” He answers, popping his lips on the ‘p.’ “You gotta own the cringe.” He states as if citing a proverb, shooting Yena a wave and you a final wink before he turns and heads to the entryway of the door to put his shoes on and leave.

You wait to relax until you hear the front door shut fully and the locks click into place as Haechan locks the door behind him, slouching against the counter and huffing crankily. “I can’t stand him.”

“Sure,” Yena replies casually, “and you also weren’t ogling him like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankle while he was messing with that bottle.”

“…Have I wronged you or something?” You ask, confused, and Yena bursts out laughing. “No, I’m just wondering why you would say these things to me as if I have no shame. I have so much shame.”

“So much?”

“Too much, really.”

“I’ll pray for you.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

As you and Yena come home from the library, after shutting the apartment door, you’re met with a…funny little smell.

“It smells like Four Loko.” You whisper to Yena, whose nose crinkles as she registers what you just said.

“It kinda does.” She whispers back, and when your eyes narrow, hers widen. “Don’t make it a big thing,” She pleads and you wave your hand dismissively.

“I won’t,” You whisper, and Yena sighs in relief.

“Okay, good, because I thought you’d fly off the handle–”

“Why does it smell like Four Loko in here?!” You yell, storming into the living room.

“Knew it,” Yena sighs as she follows after you.

“It’s probably your fault!” You round on Haechan immediately, who raises his hands defensively as he sees your annoyed expression.

“You’re so hot when you’re mad,” Haechan sighs dreamily, and you glower at him.

“Still not getting your dick wet. Back to the issue–”

“I wasn’t trying to get my dick wet!”

“Whatever! Why does it smell like Four Loko?” You press, and Haechan shoots you a defensive look, his eyes wide as he shrugs.

“I don’t know!”

“Haechan, are you lying?” You narrow your eyes at him, and he just stares back at you intently from his spot on the couch.

“No.” He says calmly, and you get even closer, practically in his face as you stare at him, waiting for a sign of him about to crack.

“This is hot,” Haechan chuckles, his gaze dropping to your lips. “Are we about to kiss right now?”

“You wish,” You scoff, and Haechan nods.

“Sure do.”

“You aggravate me.”

“I know. It’s hot.”

“It’s hot,” You echo him with a mocking voice, and his brows furrow.

“I don’t sound like that.” He huffs, and you shrug.

“You do to me.”

“Well, I don’t know how, because I don’t talk like that–”

“Can we get back on topic, please?” Yena groans, and you look back at her with an apologetic expression, her fond smile showing you that you’re forgiven. One last glance at Haechan gives you the sight of him grinning at you, raising his eyebrows before puckering his lips in an air-kiss so quick that you almost miss it. Rolling your eyes, you stand up and walk back over to Yena, putting your hand on your hip.

“I don’t believe that Haechan isn’t to blame for this.” You huff, and Yena snickers in amusement when the male in question splutters indignantly, throwing his hands up in the air.

“I was out virtually all day! I got home like an hour before you guys came just now!” He replies, seemingly eager to clear his name.

“Well, maybe you came in and shotgunned a Four Loko or something!” You retort, and Haechan’s whole face scrunches up in disbelief and confusion.

“Do you actually think that makes any sense–” Haechan’s reply stops short when the bathroom door opens and Jeno comes out in a t-shirt and sweats and rubbing a towel in his wet hair, walking through the hallway but stopping in his tracks when he sees you’re all home.

“Hey, guys!” He greets you with a sunny smile, and you mirror his expression, his infectious happiness already getting to you.

“Hi, Jeno!” You and Yena greet him in unison, and Haechan and Jeno share a grin and friendly nod. “You wouldn’t happen to know why the apartment smells like Four Loko, would you?” You ask, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to explore every avenue of possibility.

“Oh, yeah! That was me,” Jeno replies, half-sheepish, and you falter.

“…Huh?”

“Yeah, I washed out a bunch of bottles I had lying around in my room so I could make more protein shakes, and a bunch of them were filled with Four Loko, so I just poured them down the sink. Sorry about it,” He explains, looking a bit downcast, and your eyes widen.

“It’s okay! It’s okay, Jeno, don’t even worry about it.” You rush to assure him, and he looks slightly less put out, a smile slowly returning to his face.

“Okay…cool.” He perks back up and jerks a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of his room. “Gonna head to my room and relax.” Once you, Yena, and Haechan have sent him off, Jeno waves and heads back towards the original destination of his room. Once you all hear his door shut, Haechan leaps to his feet and points an accusing finger at you.

“How does he get off scot-free, but you practically jumped down my throat?” He exclaims, and you stare at him blankly as you go to get the air freshener from the bottom cabinet under the sink and start spraying liberally.

“Simple; Jeno can do virtually no wrong,” You explain as you turn to spray the curtains, “and I find you aggravating.”

“But–” Haechan starts, but you spray air freshener in his direction to ward him off. “You can’t–” You spray at him again. “I just–” And again. “Can you–” And again– “Okay!” Haechan huffs, narrowing his eyes at you. “I get it.”

“Great.” You chirp. “Then go away.”

“I’ll be back,” He warns you, walking backwards towards his room as he keeps his eyes locked on you.

“Please don’t.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The cacophony of the main campus cafeteria is both disturbing and comforting, the din strangely familiar, commonplace even, as groups of friends huddle around the small tables with the occasional wobbly leg. Today is no different, as Haechan sits with several of his friends at a lunch table, raptly listening as they recount their experience at the grocery store.

“It was actually humiliating.” Mark recalls, a grave expression occupying the usually bright and cheery male’s face. “She was so sweet about it, but I could tell she was trying not to laugh.”

“Heoni is a sweetheart,” Jeno agrees with a nod. “She even helped you pick up some of the cans you knocked over!”

“I’m still lost on how Mark messed up so badly within five minutes of talking to Heoni that he knocked over an entire display section of canned peas.” Renjun says slowly, Haechan noticing his friend’s lips quivering as he, too, tries not to laugh.

“It all happened so fast,” Mark groans, leaning forward to put his face in his hands. A piece of his hair gets in his pasta sauce, but no one mentions it, the male already having gone through enough today. “She was there in the produce aisle and she looked so pretty and we were talking about art class together and walking around kind of aimlessly–kind of like a date, really–”

“Mark?” Haechan butts in, and Mark sits up, looking at him cluelessly.

“Yes?”

“The point. Get back to it.”

“Oh, right! Anyway, she laughed at something I said–God, she has the cutest laugh–and I guess I spaced out because the next thing I know, I’m on the floor, my butt hurts, and I’m surrounded by canned peas.” He finishes forlornly, and Yangyang’s mouth twitches as he prepares to speak.

“Mark bumped into an employee cart, jumped like a foot in the air, and landed at an angle, I guess, because he stumbled to the side and knocked over the whole display of canned peas.” Yangyang fills in for Mark, and, if the quiver of his voice is anything to go by, it was every bit as comical as Haechan is imagining, and he takes a moment to mourn not being there to witness it first-hand.

“Heoni took that can to the foot like a champ, honestly–” Jeno recalls with a wince, and Mark whips his head around to face Jeno (a little bit of the pasta sauce in his hair flies and hits Yangyang just below his eye, but Mark fails to notice) with a horrified expression.

“One of the cans hit her in the foot?” Mark’s voice is higher than Haechan has ever heard it, and it’s making the situation even more amusing, even Renjun having to disguise his laugh as a cough into his fist. Haechan and Renjun make eye contact and regret it immediately, looking away quickly and trying harder to hide their amusement as Renjun picks up a napkin, leans forward, and graciously cleans the remaining pasta sauce out of Mark’s hair. “Thanks, Renjun.” Mark sighs sadly, and Renjun nods in acknowledgment as he leans back in his seat.

“That sounded like a disaster,” Haechan exhales slowly, fixing his face into a sympathetic expression to comfort his friend. “That doesn’t really explain why Yangyang is limping, though.”

“Oh! It was just your roommate’s posts to her story on Instagram,” Yangyang replies offhandedly, not noticing the blatant confusion on Haechan’s face.

“Yena? She didn’t post anything today.”

“Not Yena,” Yangyang says, and Haechan’s eyes widen, barely registering Yangyang’s next words as he whips out his phone and opens Instagram. “She posted, like, an outfit of the day picture and some selfies, I think.”

“I can’t find them,” Haechan groans as he searches through the stories of everyone he follows to no avail.

“Oh, yeah! I was there when she got that skirt,” Jeno announces proudly as he starts to reminisce. “She and Yena lured me to the mall with them one time so I could be their bag boy, and I helped approve that skirt. It was a long time to walk around after them, but I got free food out of it.”

“Why can’t I find them?” Haechan asks confusedly, and Renjun leans over to look at his phone.

“Well, then you’re kinda to thank for this,” Yangyang says as he leans over to high-five Jeno. “You saw, man, I literally dropped to my knees in the middle of the grocery store.”

“Well, yeah, but I thought that was partially dramatics.” Jeno replies, confused.

“It kinda was–I had to commit to the bit, you know? The sentiment was real, though.” Yangyang explains, and Jeno nods in understanding before he reaches an arm around to rub Mark’s back comfortingly, the oldest male still visibly upset over his harrowing experience with his crush at the grocery store.

“Renjun, what’s her name on Instagram?” Haechan asks, and Renjun pulls out his phone to check, seeming to find it easily. “How come you found it so quickly, but I can’t find it at all–” Haechan stops mid-question as the answer becomes clear, and sighs, rolling his eyes. “She blocked me, didn’t she?”

“She definitely did.” Renjun confirms, and now it’s Haechan’s turn to receive a comforting backrub from Jeno.

“Fuck it,” Haechan mutters determinedly, picking his phone back up and opening his text conversations. “I’m texting her.”

haechan [12:43] unblock me on instagram

you [12:45] no

haechan [12:46] oh come ON what could you be posting on there

haechan [12:47] is it nudes… let me know i’ll make a burner acc

you [12:50] haechan you WISH i posted nudes publicly

haechan [12:51] i sure do.

haechan [12:51] would’ve made it a lot easier to jerk off last night

you [12:54] …if you ever wonder again why you’re blocked, just read this exchange over

haechan [12:55] COME ON UNBLOCK ME

you [12:55] no :/

haechan [12:57] fine. can you at least send one of your oh so elusive nudes

you [12:57] …

haechan [12:58] so i have something to remember you by

you [13:04] first of all: ew

you [13:05] second of all: we Iive together (unfortunately) so you see me all the time

you [13:07] third and last of all: i dont keep my nudes saved on my phone :/

you [13:08] try asking jaemin!

haechan [13:12] WHAT

haechan [13:13] JAEMIN?????????

haechan [13:13] NA JAEMIN?????

you [13:15] ??? yes?? is there another jaemin or smth??

haechan [13:17] WHAT

haechan [13:17] WHY THE HELL WOULD HE HAVE YOUR NUDES

you [13:18] LMAO byeee :)

haechan [13:20] YOU CAN’T LEAVE NOW WTF

haechan [13:22] ANSWER ME!!!

haechan [13:25] oh my god

haechan [13:27] ARE YOU SERIOUS 😭😭😭

“I’m gonna kill him,” Haechan mutters bitterly, and Renjun shoots him a bewildered look.

“Who are you killing?” Renjun asks, his question indirectly answered when you, Yena, and Jaemin round the corner, heading for their table. Everyone exchanges friendly greetings except for Haechan, who stares Jaemin down, the latter seemingly unaware of his new enemy. Yena doesn’t even stop to chat, dropping her bag by the spot Renjun’s made for her and making a beeline to get food.

“How was class?” Yangyang asks as he scoots over to make room for you; when you settle your bag in between Yangyang and Jeno to stake your claim on the spot, Haechan can’t help but shoot daggers at Yangyang, his earlier comment still ringing in Haechan’s head about falling to his knees because of you.

“Long,” You and Jaemin answer in unison, looking at each other and laughing, oblivious to the way Haechan’s eyes narrow at the male who’s placed his bag on the other side of Jeno. “Yeah… Professor Andrews would not let us get off-topic—no matter how hard we tried.” You groan, rolling your eyes.

“One of the main reasons education majors have it rough is because of Professor Andrews,” Jaemin gripes, and you agree with an emphatic nod.

“Okay, I’m hungry,” You complain, taking two steps towards getting your food before you pause, looking back at the table. “Oh, Mark! I saw Heoni earlier,” You say with a smile before a sympathetic frown appears on your face. “She was limping a little bit, so maybe you can do something nice for her, like carry her books to her next class!”

Mark’s eyes widen at your helpful suggestion, nodding distractedly and waiting for you and Jaemin to walk away before dropping his head to the table again and groaning.

“What if I broke something in her foot?” Mark worries, and Haechan notes that, yet again, Mark’s leaning forward has gotten pasta sauce in his hair.

“The can couldn’t have fallen on her that hard!” Renjun supplies helpfully, and Mark looks up at him with a forlorn expression. “It’s probably just sore right now; she’ll most likely feel better by tomorrow!”

“Yeah?” Mark mumbles, hope persisting even through his saddened tone.

“Yeah,” Jeno affirms comfortingly, and Haechan offers a sympathetic smile and a little pat on Mark’s hand.

Jaemin returns back to the table first, only having grabbed a bowl of noodles, and sits in his spot next to Jeno, ready to dig in. He, however, is forced to halt, forkful of steaming noodles halfway to his mouth, when Haechan scoffs.

“Is something wrong, Haechan?” Jaemin asks cautiously, clearly confused but not willing to make any wrong moves.

“Is something wrong, Haechan?” Haechan mocks Jaemin’s voice, ignoring Yangyang’s snort of amusement to continue on, “I can’t believe you’d even ask me—yes, something’s wrong!”

Jaemin looks from Haechan to his forkful of noodles, back to Haechan, and back at his noodles before sighing deeply and putting the forkful back in the bowl, looking up at Haechan.

“What is the problem?” Jaemin asks flatly, and Haechan huffs in disbelief.

“The problem? The problem is that you have my roommate’s nudes—you know…the girl you know I’ve been chasing after for, like, three semesters; does Guy Code mean anything to you?!” Haechan asserts indignantly, and Jaemin’s face scrunches up in confusion, looking around the table for assistance which, unfortunately, he doesn’t receive, given that literally everyone at the table is giving Haechan the same baffled look. Even Mark with the pasta sauce in his hair stares at Haechan with a deeply lost expression, oblivious to the way the pasta-coated strand of his hair starts to droop down towards his forehead.

“Haechan…what the fuck are you talking about?” Jaemin questions with a deadpan expression.

“What am I talking about, Jaemin?” Haechan sneers, and if he was glaring daggers at Yangyang earlier, he’s glaring grenades with the pins pulled at Jaemin, who sits in place, frozen with confusion.

Right on time, you and Yena both return to the table, both of you holding two hearty plates of food. “The lines were so long—what crawled up your ass and died?” You ask Haechan in confusion, and Jaemin turns to you with widened eyes.

“Why does Haechan think I have your nudes?” Jaemin practically pleads with you to get him out of this mess, and you look confused for a second before remembering your conversation with Haechan earlier and snickering.

“Haechan…you actually fell for that? Really?” You laugh, and now it’s Haechan’s turn to look baffled, his mouth opening and closing as he attempts to reply, but coming up short every time.

“You’re so mean,” Haechan finally manages to complain, and you shrug dismissively.

“Only to you.”

“So…I’m special?” Haechan asks, a little smirk already appearing, and you sputter out a laugh.

“Did not take you long to come back from that one, king.” You laugh, tacking on the nickname sarcastically, and Haechan grins.

“I’ll always come back for you,” He coos sweetly, and several gags of disgust sound out around the table.

“That barely makes sense.” You point out with a disdainful expression.

“It makes perfect sense.” Haechan replies, and you roll your eyes.

“Okay.” You agree.

“So it makes sense?” Haechan asks, and you stare at him with a blank expression.

“I will say whatever it takes at this point to get you to let me eat my pizza.” You say monotonously, gesturing to the slice you’re holding in your hand, and he nods in understanding and raises his hands in surrender, a pleased smile appearing on your face as you take a bite of your pizza. Conversation is made amongst the eight of you until Renjun turns to Yena with an abrupt change in conversation.

“You never got to tell us how class went!” He points out, and Yena looks up from her food to nod, swallowing before she speaks.

“I mean, it was okay; it was only entertaining because someone kept texting me play-by-plays of her sexting some guy.” Yena says with a sly smile as she stares pointedly at you, and you giggle mischievously, barely paying Haechan any mind when he cries out in pain like he’s been shot.

“You were sexting?!” Haechan squawks indignantly, and his question falls on deaf ears as you don’t acknowledge him.

“How did you get away with blatantly texting in class?” Jeno asks in confusion and you smile secretively.

“Sat in the back.” You explain.

“Communications major.” Yena explains for herself, and you snort in amusement. “We didn’t do much today as it is.”

“Who were you sexting?!” Haechan persists in a frantic hushed whisper, and you turn your attention to him finally with a somewhat exasperated expression.

“You don’t know him.”

“Try me!”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No, but here, I’ll throw you a bone; he was terrible.”

“Really?” Jeno’s instantly intrigued, and you struggle to hide your surprised smile at how eager Jeno is to engage in gossip or “girl talk.” “How bad?”

“Disastrous, Jeno.” You lament, and his eyes widen comically.

“I think it’s only fair that we, as your friends, get a similar play-by-play,” Renjun suggests, and you shrug and nod in agreement.

“I mean, there’s not much besides screenshots, and I’d feel bad for the poor guy if I showed you guys that, so I’ll describe as much as I can. He was the ‘I’m gonna rub your leg and kiss you on the neck. does that feel good’ type of guy, which, like…no, it doesn’t feel good, king. Firstly, this isn’t 4D texting…I can’t feel any of that. Secondly, I’m literally learning about assistive technology in classrooms right now… I’m not, like, finger-fucking myself in the back of Education 204.” You finish off your rant with a dramatic wave of your arm, and Jaemin snorts so hard in amusement that he has to scoot back, pinching his nose and exhaling in a wince.

“Noodle broth just went up my nose.” He gags, and you wince sympathetically.

“Sorry, Jaemin,” You mumble, trying to hide your amusement, and he sniffles twice, wiping his nose and mouth with a napkin.

“Another bad part was when he asked if you came,” Yena snickers, and you both start laughing, only for Mark to look between the two of you in a red-faced confusion.

“Are…are we not supposed to ask that?” Mark asks, worried, and you look at him with a slight shake of the head.

“You have pasta sauce in your hair.” You mutter, leaning over Jeno to get the red sauce out of Mark’s hair, and he frowns.

“Thanks. Why can’t we ask that?” He isn’t ready to drop it, you realize, Mark looking between you and Yena yet again.

“If you know she’s actually getting herself off, it’s different,” Yena explains, and you nod. “Otherwise, like if you just text her out of nowhere and you don’t know what she’s up to, you probably shouldn’t ask…”

“Y’know what’s crazy, though? He asked what I was up to, and I told him I was in class.” You recall slowly, marveling at his cluelessness.

“So he’s just dumb.” Yangyang says bluntly, and you open your mouth to protest, find no defense, and close it, drumming your hands on the table awkwardly.

“In his defense, I was kinda flirting,” You explain, jolting at Haechan’s dramatic wail of despair, rolling your eyes and continuing on, “and I know that a lot of guys aren’t good at responding to girls when they flirt.”

“Where’d you hear that?” Haechan exclaims defensively, and, instead of answering, you decide to make an example of him.

“Mm, I don’t remember, Haechan,” You lilt sweetly, and his eyes widen in surprise. “Maybe it’s kinda right, though?” You ask, cocking your head to the side in mock innocence, and you can watch his mind go blank, his eyes glazing over as he nods at you robotically, almost in a trance.

“Yeah, I mean—it might be right for, uh, some people.”

“Unbelievable,” Mark chuckles quietly, and Yangyang snorts.

“Very believable.” He counters, and you smile widely at Haechan as you lean forward, the male mirroring you instantly.

“Haechan?” You hum, and his eyes drop down to your lips. “Listen very carefully to what I’m about to say.”

“Okay,” He agrees, already hanging on to your every word.

“You are…the most…” You drop the sweet tone and return to your originally unimpressed affect, “easily manipulated person I’ve ever met.” Haechan blinks in surprise, looking at you with a slightly lost expression, and you can’t help but feel a little bad for how easily he caved.

“I–huh?” He mumbles, confused, and you look at him, genuinely in disbelief.

“At this point, I think your advisor encouraged you to keep studying Psych so she could study you,” You mutter, baffled, and Renjun snorts out a laugh into his fist.

“I have class,” Mark blurts out as he casually looks at his phone, now panicked, and practically falls over himself in his efforts to clamber out of the booth half of you are all squished into, tossing out apologies as he steps on and over people. “Sorry, guys!”

“Bye, Mark!” Several of you call out, and he turns to face you, waving with a smile.

“Shit, if Mark has class–” Renjun realizes aloud, and Haechan groans as the realization sinks in for him as well. “We gotta go,” He nudges Haechan, who frowns but ultimately gets ready with Renjun to leave.

“Are you coming?” Haechan asks Yangyang and Jeno, who shake their head.

“I have class in 30 minutes,” Yangyang explains.

“My class starts in two hours,” Jeno answers with a smile, and Haechan cocks his head to the side in confusion, opening his mouth to speak, but shakes his head dismissively, closing it.

Before leaving, Haechan looks at Jaemin, waits until they’re making eye contact, and points from his eyes, to Jaemin, to you, who hasn’t seen a thing.

“Stay away from her,” Haechan mouths at Jaemin with narrowed eyes before dragging a finger across his neck, much to Jaemin’s alarm. Renjun yanks Haechan away, but Haechan stares Jaemin down until the very last moment before they turn the corner.

“I’m begging you…please stop using me as a way to piss off Haechan,” Jaemin asks you with a half-worried, half-amused expression. “He’s insane and he will attempt to harm me.”

“That sounds personal,” You hum, and he splutters incredulously only to stop when you laugh and pat his hand comfortingly. “I’ll ease off of it, don’t worry.”

“Thank God, because I don’t need to be part of Haechan’s you-related hit list,” Jaemin replies casually, and you pause, your cup halfway to your mouth.

“…His what?”

“It’s a long story.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

“Renjun, you get to bear witness to my newest plan,” Haechan states proudly, and Renjun just sighs.

“Oh, boy.”

“Aw, come on, can you at least act a little bit like you have faith in me?” Haechan nudges Renjun with his elbow, and Renjun sighs. Again.

“What’s the plan?” Renjun asks drily, and Haechan glowers at him before he launches into his plan.

“You know how we just did that reading on Pavlov and his dogs, right?”

“This is already going south.”

“Wha—why?!”

“You are not Pavlov. You are Lee Haechan, a sophomore in college who has done a fraction of the reading on Pavlov and a fraction of that fraction of the research necessary to conduct any worthwhile studies.” Renjun answers flatly, and Haechan just stares at him, shocked and wounded.

“Okay, that hurt–”

“I’m sure your ego will survive the attack.”

“–and I did do the Pavlov reading!” Haechan exclaims, indignant, but when Renjun fixes him in place with a flat and disbelieving expression, he starts to squirm. “I did it!” Renjun says nothing. “Okay, maybe I read most of it and left about five pages at the end.” Renjun blinks slowly. “…Okay, maybe…I read about three-fourths of the reading.” Renjun blinks twice. “Half?” Renjun raises an eyebrow. “A quarter?” His other eyebrow joins the first. “Okay, maybe I read the first couple of pages and got bored and fell asleep and woke up with a drool stain on the book that made one of the dogs’ face look all funny and it made me laugh.” Haechan finally confesses, and Renjun relaxes, patting his friend on the back.

“Good interrogation. You wouldn’t last a day in the CIA.”

“Can we get back to my point, please?”

“Go for it.” Renjun sighs, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head.

“I’m gonna listen out for every time she gets herself off,” Haechan’s voice is now a stage-whisper, pointing, for Renjun’s sake, in the direction of your room, “and every time she’s about to cum–”

“Do I really need to hear this?” Renjun squirms uncomfortably, and Haechan shushes him.

“Yes! Now listen. Every time she’s about to cum, I’m going to either ask her something through her door, text her, or even AirDrop her a picture of myself. That way she’ll get conditioned,” Haechan nudges Renjun with a secretive little grin, as if conditioning was the only term one needed to remember from Pavlov and his studies, “to associate me with her being turned on and then, when everything is said and done, the sight of me will have her practically flooding the place!”

“…It’s ironic that you’re a Psychology major.” Renjun muses after Haechan finishes speaking.

“Why?” Haechan asks, visibly confused.

“You’re easily the most insane person I know.” Renjun comments sadly, patting his friend’s knee sympathetically.

“Hey!” Haechan exclaims, offended, and Renjun shrugs.

“I just call ‘em like I see ‘em.” He says casually, and Haechan rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, whatever. I’m testing out my theory today–”

“I am not going to eavesdrop on your roommate getting herself off–”

“–on a more minor scale,” Haechan finishes, staring at Renjun incredulously. “Why would I want you to hear what the girl I like sounds like when she cums?”

“If the past twenty minutes were indicative of anything,” Renjun shoots back, “I cannot trust you to think clearly or rationally.”

“Your words wound me, Renjunnie.” Haechan lets out a quiet, dramatic sob, and Renjun sighs again—“Renjun, do you want to go home or something?”

“I’m so glad you asked, because yes, I really do–”

“Shh, shh, shh! I’m gonna text her every time she laughs at something so she’ll associate me with happiness and laughter.”

“Um–”

“Um, nothing, it’s genius!” Haechan asserts in a hushed voice. Listening out carefully from his spot on the living room couch, he waits until he hears the telltale sign of your laughter from your bedroom and types out a quick text, hitting Send and placing his phone in his lap.

“…Did you send the text?” Renjun asks, and a ding! sound rings out from the direction of your bedroom, your laughter, which had started to taper off, immediately cutting short.

“I sent the text,” Haechan says with a grin, and Renjun nods slowly, pursing his lips.

“What’d it say?”

“I just said hi with a smiley face,” Haechan replies, and Renjun stills, staring at him blankly.

“That’s it?” Renjun says, clearly in disbelief, and Haechan looks at his friend, eyebrows raised and furrowed in confusion.

“Yes, that’s it? Short and simple?” Haechan explains, lightly rapping a knuckle against Renjun’s forehead and making hollow thunk noises with every contact. “Anybody home?”

“Stop worrying about who’s at home in my head and start worrying about who’s at home in your home, because from a realistic standpoint, she would have answered your oh-so-lengthy and thoughtful text by now.” Renjun snickers, and Haechan jolts as if he’s been shocked, reaching for his phone and unlocking it.

“She read it but no reply.” Haechan informs Renjun, who shrugs.

“Okay, well! Back to the drawing board–”

“I’m gonna AirDrop her memes.” Haechan decides, and Renjun stops mid-sentence.

“…You’re gonna AirDrop her memes?”

“I’m gonna AirDrop her memes,” Haechan confirms.

“I might have to tell Mark to pray for you.” Renjun says, pressing the back of his hand to Haechan’s forehead. “You’re clearly sick.”

“Would you hush! I just sent her the perfect meme.” Haechan states, staring at the status of the AirDrop process with a hopeful gaze that falls as soon as the word “Declined” appears on his screen. “No way,” Haechan chuckles, sending you the meme again. Less time passes this time, the “Declined” showing up almost immediately, and Haechan’s face falls. “Renjun, I don’t get it! It’s the perfect meme!” He complains as he leans over to show Renjun, who looks at the meme, then at Haechan, then back at the meme, then back at Haechan…then at the meme again for good measure.

“Haechan?”

“Hm?”

“This meme isn’t funny.”

“What do you mean, ‘this meme isn’t funny?’”

“Well, you know this meme?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s not funny. Hope this helps.”

“…It doesn’t,” Haechan grouches, pulling up another meme to send. “Okay, I just sent another one–”

“Haechan.” You call out loudly from your room, and the male in question freezes.

“She doesn’t sound happy,” Haechan says lowly, a tinge of worry in his voice.

“Gee, I wonder why. Surely it can’t have anything to do with your harassment–I mean, your experiment.” Renjun deadpans, and Haechan narrows his eyes at his friend who is not being very supportive right now.

“One day, you’ll have to answer for your treachery,” Haechan hisses at Renjun, who raises an uninterested eyebrow, before snatching up his textbook from the coffee table and pretending to read it.

“Haechan.” You’re standing in the living room with your hand on your hip, your phone in the other hand, and Haechan looks up at you as casually as can be, attempting to be the face of innocence. “First of all, you know that your book is upside-down, right?” You point out, already bored, and Haechan drops his gaze down to his textbook.

Ah. So it is.

“Secondly,” You continue as Haechan turns his book right-side-up, “I am going to say this once, and for your sake, you’d better not make me say it a second time.” You walk right up to Haechan and Renjun, barely sparing your mutual friend a glance to avoid making him feel as if he’s caught in the crossfire. “Please stop trying to AirDrop me.”

“It’s a funny meme! What, you don’t like memes?” Haechan exclaims defensively, and you blink twice at him.

“Haechan?”

“Hm?”

“That meme isn’t funny.”

“Ha! That’s what I said,” Renjun chortles to himself, and you do spare him a glance at that, a small smile quirking the corner of your mouth upwards.

“No, but seriously. Stop sending me AirDrop request after AirDrop request,” You warn him, and Haechan splutters indignantly as if he hasn’t just been sending you AirDrop request after AirDrop request.

“What is the point of sending me unfunny memes randomly, anyway?” You ask, confused, and Haechan sets his textbook down, closing the book just a second too late to avoid your keen eyes. “Did…did that say Pavlov?”

“Uh…no.” Haechan lies.

“Renjun, did that say Pavlov?”

“Sure did.”

“Thanks.”

“Traitor!” Haechan whispers, scandalized, in Renjun’s direction, and Renjun just shrugs.

“Haechan, you know that’s not how Pavlov’s experiments worked, right?” You say slowly, trying to hide your amusement.

“No, he does not know.” Renjun betrays Haechan once again as he doesn’t even look up, tapping on his phone. “He didn’t do the reading.”

“Is that why you texted me when I was laughing earlier?” You can barely conceal your amusement any longer, your bottom lip quivering as you try desperately not to laugh. “Haechan, by Pavlovian studies, wouldn’t that have just ruined the positive effect the laughing had and, if repeated, would’ve made me associate you with my happiness being cut short or ruined?”

“…Um.” Haechan’s got nothing. Maybe he really should have done the reading.

“You know what the best part of this all is?” Renjun remarks, finally amused. “She’s absolutely right. That was in the reading.”

“We did a brief unit on Pavlov in one of my Education classes,” You explain to Renjun. “We didn’t go that in depth, but we got the gist of it.”

“I think people forget that Education is actually kind of just… a different avenue of Psychology.” Renjun muses, and you nod emphatically, your eyes wide.

“I say that to my friends all the time!”

“Can you two stop flirting, for Christ’s sake?” Haechan snaps, sighing heavily.

“Hey, Haechan?” You say sweetly, and he looks up at you with a bewildered expression, never having heard you speak to him in that tone of voice. “It’s so fascinating that you’re a Psych major.”

“Really?”

“Yeah; because you’re in-fucking-sane.” You quip, and Renjun looks up from his phone immediately.

“I said that earlier!”

“Stop kissing her ass.”

“He’s closer than you’ve ever gotten,” You point out, and Haechan’s jaw drops in shock and offense.

“I can’t believe this.”

“You know, they have places for people like you, Haechan.” You say with a feigned concerned tone.

“Yeah, it’s called an asylum.” Renjun supplies helpfully (or traitorously, depending on who you ask), and Haechan gasps as you burst into laughter.

“Renjun, I like you. Haechan, are all your friends cooler than you? Can you move in and replace Haechan?” You ask Renjun, and he smiles goodnaturedly before patting Haechan’s shoulder, the recipient of the touch staring at Renjun’s hand with disdain before shrugging out of the gesture dramatically.

“I’m flattered, but my dorm setup is pretty cool.” Renjun explains, and you nod in understanding.

“Shame. Haechan, do you need any help with that?” You ask, gesturing to his textbook, and Haechan just stares between you and Renjun, unsure who’s going to attack first. “Hello? I can help you with your readings! I can read it out loud and show you the pretty pictures and you can help me turn the pages.” You smile sweetly at Haechan, and Renjun bursts out laughing.

“She’s good,” He snickers, holding his side as he laughs, and Haechan just glares at both of you.

“I’m going to my room.” He huffs before standing up, snatching his textbook off the table, and striding off to his bedroom with his nose in the air, literally, but not before shooting you both scornful glances.

“…Now what?” Renjun asks when you two are alone in the living room.

“Peace and quiet, Renjun,” You say with a relieved smile. “Peace and quiet.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

“Yena!” You wail, throwing open your apartment door and shutting it behind you by lying against it and letting your weight push it closed. “Yena!” You cry again, toeing off your shoes after locking the door and shuffling sadly into the living room, where you see Jeno sitting on the couch, his legs propped up on the coffee table as he looks at his laptop. “Oh. Hi, Jeno. Is Yena here?”

“Hey! I’m not sure, actually. I got in about an hour ago and I haven’t seen her yet,” He answers, and you sigh loudly, collapsing on the couch next to him.

“Hi, sunshine,” A familiar voice sounds from behind you, and you groan, throwing your head back in anguish as Haechan walks around the couch, sitting on the other side of you.

“Dear God, not you,” You whine, and Jeno takes a moment to really look at you, the normally clueless male actually noticing something off in your tone.

“Hey, are you okay?” Jeno asks gently, nudging your knee, and your face twists up as you debate whether or not to tell Jeno—and Haechan, by proxy—what exactly you’re upset about. “If you wanna talk, I’m not busy,” He assures you, shutting his laptop and leaning forward to place it on the coffee table and wiggling his now free hands to demonstrate.

“…Fine,” You finally decide, shifting and angling your body towards Jeno, deliberately turning your back on Haechan, the sight of the male already pissing you off given the circumstances. “Jeno, you and I are about to become a lot closer as roommates and friends.”

“Oh, cool! Why’s that?” He asks curiously, and you pinch the bridge of your nose as you gather your thoughts to relay your tale of woe.

“You’re about to get exclusive girl talk gossip,” You explain, and his eyes widen in excitement and surprise, his whole body language shifting as he angles in towards you, now paying rapt attention. “You will not believe the fucking disaster of a hookup I just had.”

“Uh oh,” Jeno says, eagerly leaning forward to listen. Unbeknownst to you, given your deliberate obstruction of him from your line of sight, Haechan also leans closer to you to listen, eyes trained on the back of your head as if his visual of you could grant him real-life subtitles or something. “What happened? Who was it?”

“This dude from my Stats class,” You explain, waving a hand dismissively. “I don’t think you know him, so his name’s not important. It–oh, God, Jeno–first of all, he kept touching me like the dude was fuckin’ scared or something! Like I was a goddamn bomb he had to defuse or something, and super weak, soft touches does not a sexy hookup make.”

“Agreed,” Jeno nods in emphatic agreement. “You can’t be too scared; if you’re that scared, you should just not be hooking up.”

“Thank God you get it, because I’m about to scream. Jeno, it gets worse.” You say in a grave tone, and Jeno winces in anticipation, causing your fondness for the male to increase at his unexpectedly stellar gossip listening and contribution skills. “Jeno, I don’t think this dude had ever touched a clitoris before, let alone seen one.”

“No way,” Jeno gasps, and you can literally feel your anger subsiding somewhat as the male in front of you with a puppy-like excitement evokes an amused smile from you. “What’d he do?”

“At first he had trouble when he got his hand, like, down there, y’know?” You start to explain, and Jeno nods in understanding. “So I just let that go because the guy was clearly nervous in the first place, right? So I was trying to give him a chance to loosen up. So he starts, uh, rubbing, and…Jeno.”

“Yeah?”

“He wasn’t even close to anything of consequence. I couldn’t begin to wrap my head around what he thought he was doing.” You state, and Jeno snickers, evoking a chuckle of your own. “Then I get fed up pretty quickly of him rubbing my inner thigh in circles like he’s really doing something, so I shift my body under him so he’s closer to the right area–”

“Oh, that’s smart,” Jeno mumbles, impressed.

“Right? So I move myself and he moves his hand right back to where it was.” You say, thumping the couch once for emphasis that clearly lands properly as Jeno flinches at the sudden sound and movement. “So I got fed up again and grabbed his wrist and brought his hand, like, directly there, and even gave a little encouraging moan for when he was there—y’know, a little oh, yeah, right there, but…said all sexy-like, right? Jeno, guess what this idiot did.”

“He moved his hand away–”

“He moved his hand away! So I tried again, and he did it again! Like, how clueless can you be?! That’s like asking me where the bathroom is and I say, ‘Oh, it’s just down the hall to the right,’ and bring you to the door, and you…just turn and walk into the nearest wall and keep trying like a fucking Sims glitch or something!” You exclaim incredulously, and Jeno bursts into laughter, his eyes scrunching up in delight as he slaps his knee.

“I’m imagining it, and–I’m sorry, it’s not funny for you and he’s an idiot, but it’s such a funny mental image.” Jeno manages to get out, and you can’t even keep up your upset pout, your lips twitching with amusement from watching the infectiously happy male in front of you. “Okay, wait–okay. I’m good. I’m good now. Wh–what’d you do?” He finally manages to ask.

“I booed him.” You shrug, Jeno’s eyes widening as his jaw drops. “I literally booed him like it was Amateur Night at the Apollo Theater, and then I just left. If I’m not gonna cum—which I definitely wasn’t, if he had any say in the matter—then neither is he.” You huff indignantly, and Jeno nods in agreement, making you realize that he definitely helped you feel a lot better and more validated in your actions. You definitely didn’t expect the clueless, perpetually zoned-out Lee Jeno of all people to be an excellent contender for girl talk, but you won’t make the mistake of counting him out again. You’re about to thank Jeno for listening so well and making you feel better when Haechan speaks from behind you and you flinch hard, practically having forgotten he was still there.

“He definitely sounds like an amateur,” Haechan agrees, and you narrow your eyes suspiciously as you nod in agreement, waiting for the punchline to hit.

“…Yeah.” You say slowly, still watching Haechan skeptically.

“And an idiot.” He continues, and you grow even more suspicious.

“…Yeah?” You’re frozen watching Haechan, half-expecting and half-dreading the moment when he opens his mouth and makes everything worse—

“I definitely couldn’t relate to him,” He assures you with a small, confident nod and budding smirk.

“And there it is.” You sigh, both annoyed all over again and vindicated that you were right all along. “Haechan, now is not the time to gloat about your sexual prowess or whatever.” You warn him, holding up a hand to silence him and attempting to seek solace in Jeno, turning back to the other male, who is, to your surprise, shaking his head at Haechan as if also warning him against messing with you at the moment.

Impressed, you mentally give Jeno a point on a scoreboard of brownie points that you definitely just made up and will likely have no actual bearing on real life any time soon.

To your surprise, Haechan takes your hand in his, rubbing circles in the top of your hand that you reluctantly find soothing, and looks you in the eyes earnestly.

“Does the pretty girl not like being teased?” He asks, frowning in mock sympathy, and you scowl, yanking your hand free from his grip and standing up from the couch to head to your room. “Aw, come on!”

“Haechan,” You warn, whirling back around to face the aggravating Haechan and now worried Jeno, “I am annoyed, I am sexually frustrated, and generally not in the mood for your nonsense. Right now? Hell hath no fury like me. I’m going to my room.” You fire back at him, and he raises his hands as if in surrender.

“I was just saying–”

“I don’t really care what you were just saying.” You snap, and he licks his lips as his expression grows a bit more intrigued and his eyelids flutter slightly into the low-lidded sultry gaze Haechan has been known to give you, and you remember that he likes it when you’re like this. “You know what, Haechan? At this point, if you ever manage to get me in your bed and do as well as you’re always saying you can and will do, I will eat my words. I will have the fattest slice of humble pie. Okay? Until then, I am begging you to shut up.” You lecture, and Haechan just stares at you, mesmerized.

“…So I do have a chance.”

“Oh, my God, I’m going to my fucking room.” You growl, throwing your hands up in defeated frustration. “Thank you for your help, Jeno; it really means a lot to me.”

“No problem!” Jeno calls after you right before you round the corner into the hallway and make a beeline for your room, throwing yourself on the bed and screeching into your pillow, the fluffy down feather-filled cushion muffling most of your screams.

You lie there on your bed for the rest of the night, absolutely and painfully unaware of the plan Haechan is cooking up now that he believes he does have a chance with you.

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“Haechan.”

“Yes?”

“Are you sure this is even legal?” Renjun asks worriedly, stress shown plainly in every feature on Haechan’s friend’s face.

“Now you’re just being dramatic,” Haechan chuckles dismissively, looking around at his other friends for support and scoffing in surprise and disbelief when no one speaks up to defend him. “Some friends you all are!”

“I feel like as your friends we should be doing exactly what we’re doing right now and telling you this is a terrible idea–” Renjun persists.

“Okay, maybe if you walk us through the plan again, you–it…the whole thing won’t sound so…unhinged.” Yangyang says slowly, and Haechan hesitates, unsure of how exactly to take the seemingly supportive but somewhat backhanded comment.

“…Okay,” Haechan finally decides to ignore it and let it slide, feeling like he should keep his one vocal supporter—or, at least, not an active naysayer—on his side. “So, she has five different sex toys, all of which are stored in various locations in her room, which I’ve got written down on my phone.”

“This feels like a massive invasion of her privacy.” Mark groans, his expression anxious. “Yo, how did you even get this information?”

“I don’t even think I want to know,” Renjun sighs, his voice oddly muffled, causing Haechan to look over at him and roll his eyes at his friend, who’s buried his face in his crossed arms on the table.

“…Anyway…I’m going to sneak in and gradually hide all of her sex toys in my room, taking one every couple of days so she won’t catch on immediately.” Haechan explains, and Jaemin’s incredibly disapproving expression has Haechan rushing to defend himself. “I’m not gonna do anything creepy with them—”

“Is the ‘not creepy’ part happening before or after you literally steal her sex toys–”

“Renjun, let me finish! I’m literally just gonna hold onto them and wait for her sexual frustration to build to the point where she literally won’t be able to resist me anymore,” Haechan finishes proudly, and Yangyang, the very reason why the plan was even repeated, stares down at his folded hands blankly for what Haechan would consider an uncomfortably long time. “…So, Yangyang? What do you think?”

“I think,” Yangyang starts, “that…is a very bad idea. Zero out of ten, absolutely would not recommend it to a friend and, because you’re my friend, Haechan, I’m going to recommend, instead, that you do literally anything else at this point.”

“Look, I know it sounds bad, but I swear it’s not,” Haechan attempts to explain himself, but Jaemin finally pipes up.

“Maybe it sounds bad because it is bad, Haechan.” He says slowly. “The sheer fact that you gathered everyone—me, Yangyang, Renjun, and Mark—but neglected to include Jeno, your other roommate, speaks volumes.”

“Jeno has a big mouth.” Haechan mumbles petulantly, and Jaemin fixes him in place with a stern stare that gives Haechan infinitely more faith in Jaemin’s future in education.

“In this situation, I’m pretty sure that’s called a fucking conscience.” Renjun quips, lifting his head from his arms to glare at Haechan. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not, and I need you guys to have my back on this–”

“We do not.”

“–because I need someone to stand guard when I go in her room.” Haechan finishes, and Renjun bursts out into a fit of incredulous laughter.

“Absolutely not.” He says firmly when he’s finished laughing, and Haechan deflates, looking at Jaemin, who raises an eyebrow as if to say, what do you think? He turns his gaze to Yangyang who pantomimes wiping his hands clean and raising them in a manner that states, I want nothing to do with this. Haechan meets Mark’s eye and, at Mark’s uncomfortable silence, smiles hopefully.

“Mark? What about it?”

“I think…” Mark says carefully, “I would rather violate every last one of the Ten Commandments and directly flip off the sky.”

“You’re all horrible,” Haechan grunts in frustration, packing up his bag quickly and standing up, giving them all a disdainful glance before leaving the library.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Later that day, after reworking his plan slightly, Haechan goes into your room and enacts Phase 1 of his new and improved, slightly less alarming plan: replacing the batteries of the sex toys with completely drained ones.

Thankfully for Haechan, only two toys take batteries and, conveniently enough, they’re the same batteries Jeno and Haechan frequently blow through for their gaming controllers, the discarded batteries collecting in a jar by the kitchen trash can until someone in the house has any idea of how best to dispose of them safely. Haechan performs the switcheroo and quickly exits the bedroom, making sure to scour the house for any replacement batteries you could use.

Over the course of two and a half weeks, Haechan has sabotaged two of your toys with dead batteries, hidden the charger that charges two of your other toys, and simply taken your last toy when it became clear to him that the toy doesn’t take any type of battery that you all have lying around the house and that the charger cord for that toy is frustratingly commonplace.

Haechan has also, to his delight, noticed a significant shift in your mood, your demeanor gradually becoming easily frustrated and more irritable, and he figures it’s only a matter of time before he has you beating down his door for some…sexual healing.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The tranquility of your time alone in the apartment is promptly ruined when Haechan unlocks the front door and comes in to see you on the couch, comfortably reading a book.

“My favorite roommate,” Haechan greets fondly, and you barely spare him a glance as you wave half-heartedly. “Wanna do me a favor?” You look back up at him, slightly amused at the prospect of wanting to do anything for him.

“Whatever you’re going to ask, the answer is no.” You say nonchalantly, turning the page in your book.

“Help me dye my hair pink,” He continues on as if you haven’t spoken, coming to sit on the couch with you. You look up at him, blink slowly, and return your gaze to your book.

“Are you in the witness protection program or something?” You ask with a small chuckle, and he smiles, letting out an amused exhale.

“No.”

“Lose a bet?”

“No, I–”

“Are you having an impulsive episode? Are you prone to these often? As a Psych major you should know that these could be part of larger manic episodes, and–”

“No!” Haechan insists, cutting you off, and you place your bookmark in your book and close it, looking at him curiously. “I literally just thought I’d look cool with pink hair.” He mumbles, and you sigh.

“Let me see a picture.” You say, and he fishes his phone out from his jacket pocket, swiping a couple of times before he shows you a picture of a guy around his skin tone with a pretty shade of pink in his hair. “Oh. Yeah, that could look good.” You remark, somewhat surprised, and Haechan sits forward excitedly, already smiling at you.

“So you’ll help me?” He asks hopefully, and you raise an eyebrow in his direction.

“What’s in it for me?” You reply, and he grins, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Quality time with yours truly.”

“…How about something I actually want.”

“Fine,” Haechan frowns slightly, looking around the room thoughtfully. “I’ll do your chores for a week, not including dishes.”

“Mm…nope.”

“Aw, man! …Including dishes?” He offers, and you shrug, inspecting your nails.

“More.”

“You can have, uh…$30 worth of my meal points.” He tacks on in a last-ditch attempt, and your eyes widen as you turn to face him with a smile.

“Deal.”

“Really?” He asks happily, and you nod. “Holy shit.” He mumbles, surprised, and you snort, amused.

“I thought you wanted this outcome.” You point out, and he nods.

“I did—I do! I just…figured it’s better to expect disappointment.” He replies, and you shrug again as you nod in agreement.

“Fair.”

“So, when can you do it?” He asks, and you swing your legs off of the couch, planting them on the rug.

“When can you get everything you need?” You ask, and he sits back slightly to show you a black plastic bag with the name of your local beauty supply.

“I have it! I ordered the dye on Amazon and got the bleach from the beauty supply so someone could help me pick the right stuff.” He answers with a proud smile, and you can’t help but nod, impressed.

“Wow, you’re really being smart about this.” You praise him, and he practically preens under your praise, sitting up a bit straighter and everything. “Okay, go set up the stuff in the bathroom and let Jeno know we’re gonna tie up whichever bathroom you choose until we’re done.” Haechan nods eagerly and rushes off to do what you’ve asked, doing a little jump to click his heels together that has you biting back a laugh. “Haechan, change your shirt to something you don’t care about!”

“You got it!” He calls back, and you get up to do the same, placing your book on the coffee table.

Once Haechan has everything set up, you meet him in the bathroom, having changed into a random t-shirt you found in your drawer that’s already worse for wear with a couple of holes riddled in the fabric.

“Okay, how do you wanna do this?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“I mean, you can sit on the counter and I can sit in front of you?” He suggests, pointing at the chair you and Yena use to store your extra bathing supplies that don’t fit in the shower itself.

“Sounds good to me,” You agree, and he sets about moving your and Yena’s stuff off of the chair, setting it gingerly on the floor and carrying the chair over to the sink where you’re already sitting, stirring the bleach solution. “Sit,” You urge, gesturing at the chair in front of you, and he complies, settling down between your legs and pulling his phone out, scrolling through it absentmindedly as you start to part his hair and apply the bleach carefully and efficiently. “So, I never thought to ask; why’d you ask me to do this?”

“Well, I remembered when Yena dyed her hair towards the end of last semester and she said you helped her do it, so I figured I could try and ask you for help this time.” He answers, and you pause for a second, surprised he remembered.

“Oh.” You muse softly, and he hums in acknowledgment, leaning his head to the side so his cheek is on your inner thigh. You narrow your eyes suspiciously, but say nothing, continuing to apply the bleach, now going back to do his roots. It’s not until a couple of minutes later when Haechan nuzzles his cheek against your bare thigh and sighs dreamily that you decide to comment. “You sound like you’re in heaven.”

“Mm, if this were really heaven, I’d be facing the opposite direction right now, and we’d have a lot less clothing on.” He replies with a flirtatious lilt, and you scoff, bopping him on the head with the comb you’ve been using to part his hair.

“Pervert.” You scold, and he just chuckles, leading you to narrow your eyes and bop him again, the male startling this time and spluttering indignantly.

“What was that one for?” He asks with a laugh, and you huff.

“I didn’t even have to see you to know that you did that sleazy eyebrow thing that pisses me off.” You retort, and he chuckles mischievously.

“You know me so well.” His reply sounds smug, and you roll your eyes.

“Unfortunately. Now shut up and let me focus on this.” You mumble, tilting his head back slightly to check the front of his scalp. You can hear Haechan breathe in deeply as you lean over him slightly, his head turning inwards slightly when you release him, and his lips graze lightly against your bare inner thigh, the faintest of puckers giving you the suspicion it wasn’t just a little accident and making you freeze after you finish setting the timer for the bleach to sit.

“Did you just kiss my thigh?” You ask incredulously, and Haechan lets out what must be the guiltiest scoff you’ve ever heard.

“No?”

“You definitely did.” You insist, and he huffs, turning his head in towards your thigh even more.

“If I’d kissed your thigh, it would’ve felt like this,” Haechan counters, and leans in, pressing his parted lips to your inner thigh in a sudden, unmistakable kiss that has you gasping in surprise. His tongue peeks out to swipe along the skin before he sucks gently at the spot, releasing the flesh with a wet smacking noise (just in time, too, because you were about to let out a moan that would have made things awkward) and finishes, “and you would have known.” At your silence, he turns to look at you to see you still somewhat frozen in shock, his wet kiss mark practically burning a hole in your skin, and he smirks, standing up and pushing the chair out of the way to stand between your legs. “What?” He says softly, teasingly. “No witty remark? Nothing clever to say?”

“I don’t know–shut up–I didn’t like that.” You blurt out, caught off-guard, and he raises a brow in amusement.

“I don’t think I asked if you liked that,” Haechan points out, voice still soft as his fingertips ghost along your thighs. “So are you telling me you didn’t like it…or are you trying to convince yourself that you didn’t?” His face is dangerously close to yours at this point, his soft exhales fanning your lips with his warm breath, minty from the gum he’s chewing.

“I–you–shut up,” You mumble, moving to push him back with a knee pressed to his stomach. He catches your leg, one hand placed over your knee and the other cupping under your thigh right by your knee, and looks down at it then up at you with a small smirk.

“You know, I’ve always known you were stunning, but…” Haechan murmurs, moving his hand off of your knee and using the grip of his other hand to move your leg to the side, stepping back in between your legs. “I don’t think I ever noticed your eyes were this pretty.” He marvels softly, looking you directly in the eyes with a gaze both admiring and intense that unnerves you.

“…Is this how you flirt with everyone?” You reply, voice equally as soft but thankfully steady, your resolve having returned to you somewhat, and Haechan chuckles, looking down at his hand holding your leg before looking up at you, raising an eyebrow.

“Only the really pretty—stunning, actually—girls who, uh, live with me,” He replies, his hand slipping higher up on the underside of your thigh, “and who help me dye my hair,” Haechan leans in towards you, smiling when you don’t immediately lean back, “and who make very pretty sounds when I kiss them right here,” from his grip of your leg, the tip of his middle finger presses into the spot where his lips just were, heat flaring up there once more as you remember just how good his mouth felt on your skin.

“Oh,” You whisper, lost for words, and he chuckles softly.

“Oh,” He mimics you, leaning in even closer, and you’re a goner, you just know it, because he’s so close and maybe you do kind of want to know what kissing him would be like, and—

“Oh, my God.” Jeno’s cry rings through the house, and you both jolt in surprise, startled by your usually calm roommate’s sudden increase in volume. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”

You peek at Haechan who, you find, is already looking at you, his eyes trained on your mouth with a determination you don’t believe you can handle, so you push him back with your knee slowly, waiting for his gaze to drag back up to your eyes to speak.

“We, um,” You clear your throat and hold your phone up in his face, the timer now showing twenty minutes to go. “Have twenty minutes left.”

“I can think of what we can do to pass the time,” Haechan starts, a cocky little smirk appearing on his face, but you hold a hand up to silence him.

“Jeno is still screaming,” You point out, and Haechan cocks his head to the side, eyes widening as he realizes that Jeno is in fact still groaning and wailing in anguish. “So I’m gonna check on him. I’ll be back soon and if I’m not back, wash your hair out thoroughly and pat it dry with this t-shirt when that timer goes off.” You press the t-shirt in your hand to his chest and look at him seriously, trying to ignore the way Haechan watches you with his brows raised, smirking with his tongue pressed in his cheek.

Haechan nods in understanding and you mirror him, turning on your heel and heading to check on Jeno.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

“I’m back!” You say as you open the bathroom door to see Haechan sitting on the floor by the chair and scrolling through his phone. There are about five minutes left on the timer when you check and you sit in the chair, leaning over to check Haechan’s hair, which has lightened very nicely.

“Did you find out why he was screaming?” Haechan asks curiously, and you chuckle as you remember the conversation you had with Jeno.

“Someone spoiled some show he’s always watching, and now he’s super upset.” You answer. “It’s not funny, because he seems genuinely bummed, but it was just funny to me that, of all things, that set him off, y’know?”

“He is pretty chill,” Haechan seems to understand, amused, before his brows furrow in thought. “I’ll check on him when we’re done here; make sure he’s not about to Jeno Smash or anything.” He jokes, receiving an amused snicker from you.

“That would be nice of you,” You agree, removing your hands from his hair and tapping his shoulder. “Go wash it out.” Haechan obeys, standing up and heading over to the shower, and you scroll through your phone while you wait, trying not to stare at the way his back muscles move under his shirt, and how when he finishes, his head and shoulders are dripping wet, only further accentuating his back muscles. He turns and locks eyes with you, and you realize instantly that you don’t think you ever needed to see what Haechan looks like dripping wet for your mental health.

“…the t-shirt?” Haechan says, and you realize with a jolt that he must have been talking that whole time.

“Sorry, what? Spaced out.” You mumble, standing up and passing him the t-shirt just in case, and he smirks, stepping closer to you as he starts to pat his hair dry.

“I could tell; too busy checking me out to answer me, hm?” He teases, and you swallow thickly, attempting to come up with some sort of cover.

“Sorry,” You mutter, unable to come up with anything, and he raises a brow in intrigue as he finishes patting his hair dry, moving even closer to you.

“So you were checking me out?” He confirms, his eyes lighting up at your silence. “You can stop apologizing and make it up to me another way, y’know.” He offers, and you inch backwards ever so slightly, Haechan slowly but surely backing you up against the sink.

“I, um–” You stammer, truly and utterly lost for words as Haechan closes in, his damp, now blond hair steadily dripping water onto your bare legs. Each drop, lukewarm water now gone cold, is a reality check, the droplets traveling higher up your legs the closer he gets to you.

“You can make it up to me,” Haechan murmurs, placing his hands on the sink on either side of you and leaning in until your mouths are but a breath apart, “like this,” He breathes, and moves to connect your lips. You have about a millisecond to process that Lee Haechan is about to kiss you, and that you have less than a millisecond to figure out whether or not you want him to. His lips just slightly brush against yours before you can lean away slightly in favor of grabbing the t-shirt Haechan was using to dry his hair. You can feel Haechan watching you, his expression too amused and smug for your liking, but you refuse to look at him just yet, barely watching what you’re doing as you tousle Haechan’s hair, drying it some more as his hands busy themselves with gliding up and down your thighs.

”Stop touching me or you’re on your own for the rest of this hair adventure.” You huff, and he snickers.

“Fine,” He agrees easily—too easily—and moves his hands back to the counter top. Just when you’re about to look at him again, he leans in close to your ear, his smirk practically audible as he murmurs, “I know you liked that, though.”

“You’re annoying me,” You warn him, pushing him back slightly.

“I think it’s pronounced arousing,” He corrects you, and you blink at him impassively.

“No, I think it’s actually pronounced annoying,” You grouch, leaning over to reach for your blow dryer, looking back at him to shoot him a glare. “I can’t plug this in with you practically on top of me.”

“Then let’s stay like this for a moment,” Haechan suggests with a grin. “My hair can air dry.”

“No, it can’t,” You mimic his tone, pushing him back enough so you can plug your blow dryer in. “I have a book to get back to.”

“Fine,” He complies, tilting his head down so you can start blow-drying his hair. When you turn it off for a minute to check his hair, Haechan moves to say something, prompting you to turn it back on and blow air in his face. When you turn it back off, he tries again, only for you to turn it back on with a slowly growing smile. The cycle continues until you’re laughing too hard to work the buttons properly, Haechan’s frustrated expression slipping into an amused one as he watches your amusement. “I like seeing you smile. You have a cute laugh.”

You just side-step the laugh compliment, not agreeing with him, and pat his cheek twice. “You’d see it more if you weren’t so irritating.”

“All I do is flirt with you!” He replies defensively, and you look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Exactly. You’re a terrible flirt, you know.” You tell him, and he shrugs casually.

“Couldn’t be that terrible if I almost got you to kiss me earlier.” He points out with a cocky grin.

“That was a momentary lapse of sanity,” You defend yourself, Haechan snorting in amusement.

“Call it what you want, but I almost got a kiss,” He teases. You roll your eyes and pinch his ear, grinning when he yelps in pain, and guide him to sit on the chair, standing in front of him to start applying the pink dye to his now dry hair. You work in silence, Haechan scrolling through his phone until he nudges your hip with his phone to get your attention. When you look down at him, he shows you a video on his phone, letting you take it from his hand to watch as he says, “I thought you’d like this.”

It’s a TikTok of Brittany Broski, and your lips quirk upwards in amusement immediately, a laugh bubbling forth before the video ends, and you hand him back the phone with a smile on your lips.

“You thought right,” You say with a smile, and he grins up at you. “Brittany Broski is actually holding my mental stability together with old, weakening washi tape and Elmer’s glue.” You muse, and Haechan spits out a sudden, unexpected laugh.

“That doesn’t sound promising,” He snickers, and you shrug with a chuckle.

“It’s not, really,” You say honestly, and he makes a noise that should be sympathetic, but is too shaky from his laughter to sound as genuine as it should. “But she is doing her best, and that’s what matters.”

“Maybe I should study you,” Haechan jokes. “I could be your therapist for my Psychology final.”

“You’re aware that you’re, like, insane, right?” You laugh. “It’d be like the blind leading the blind.” You finish applying the dye and tilt his head this way and that to make sure you didn’t miss any spots with the dye, and pull off your gloves, throwing them in the garbage. “Okay, I’m all done with the dye,” You let him know, and he nods, humming in acknowledgment. You reach over him slightly to grab your phone, standing back up, and as you set another timer, you feel a slight tugging on your shirt. You peek down to see that Haechan’s finger is hooked in a hole on your shirt and he’s absentmindedly tugging as he scrolls through his phone with his other hand.

“Can I help you?” You ask, mildly amused, and he looks up at you, pulling his finger from the hole in your shirt, and grins widely.

“I don’t know,” He muses, slipping his phone in his back pocket. “Was just thinking.”

“I thought we told you to stop doing that.”

“Funny,” He replies sarcastically before he sits back in the chair and looks up at you. He really is painting an attractive picture, his legs spread as he watches you with a smile and an inviting look in his eyes. “God, I can’t take this anymore,” He complains, and all you get as a warning for what’s to come is the feeling of his hands sliding up the backs of your thighs, Haechan gripping your ass and pulling you in and down so you’re seated clumsily, one of his legs having wormed its way between yours and your chest pressing against his.

Your yelp of surprise rings out with his groan of satisfaction as both of you get the full sensation of your position, his firm thigh pressing against the seat of your shorts and your breasts pressed against his chest.

“Haechan, I’m gonna kill you.” You gasp, and he shushes you, hands moving up to grip your hips, fingers digging in with a desperation that takes you by surprise.

“You see how this…just feels right?” He murmurs, his voice strained, looking up at you, and it’s a testament to his looks that he can still almost pull you with his hair all slicked up and messy and not in the attractive way.

You don’t know about right, but it sure does feel good.

“Now if you just…kissed me,” He purrs, winding his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. You groan in protest, pushing his shoulders feebly, and he looks up at you, clearly unimpressed. “You know you could push harder than that. You like this, don’t you?”

“Let me go,” You huff, and he releases you immediately, raising an eyebrow when you don’t move yet. He winds his arms back around you and you splutter out a protest. “Haechan!”

“You literally didn’t move.” He points out flatly, bouncing his leg once experimentally and smirking when your hands fly to grip his shoulders, the beginning of a moan leaving you before you stifle it with an abrupt clearing of your throat.

“Haechan, I’m gonna leave.” You warn him, and he leans in, pulling you closer so you two are practically already kissing.

“Then go,” He breathes, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips as he waits before he shoots you a crooked grin and leans in to close the gap, your lips barely touching before your phone goes off with a notification and startles you out of your trance. “You’re such a tease,” He groans when you push yourself off of his lap, smoothing the invisible wrinkles out of your clothes before picking up your phone and checking it, trying to calm your pounding heart.

It’s just a notification from a food delivery app, but all this Haechan-induced stress has built up quite the appetite for you, so you decide you will take advantage of the little promo code they’ve offered you. Maybe a little…alone time, a nap, and a meal when you wake up. You’ve been pent up lately and haven’t had much time to yourself, not getting to get yourself off for over a week and a half.

“I’m not a tease, you’re just incapable of keeping it in your pants.” You shoot back, and he scoffs, standing up from the chair and moving over to you.

“I don’t think you even want it in my pants.” He counters, and you snort, amused.

“I ‘want it’ away from me.” You mumble, pushing him back with one hand. “Look, I’ll be back in a bit, probably around when the timer goes off. If I’m not, rinse it out.”

“Where are you going?” He asks curiously as you head for the bathroom door.

“Away from you,” You answer honestly, and Haechan makes a sound of hurt that you roll your eyes at before shutting the door behind you and making a beeline for your room to screech into your pillow. You lie on your bed for an uncomfortably short time before you hear your phone timer go off from the bathroom where you left it with Haechan, sighing and swinging your legs off the bed to head back to him. You take a breath to center yourself before entering the bathroom, and he’s just finished rinsing the dye out and is turning to face you.

“How does it look?” He asks, and you marvel at how…

“Good,” You answer, surprised at how even the color is and how nicely it flatters his skin tone. “Haechan, it looks really fucking good.” You say honestly, and he grins as he grabs the t-shirt to dry his hair. Something about the way his forearm muscles are tensing is too overwhelming and you find your gaze slipping to your phone which you pick up, immediately looking through your notifications.

“You look really fucking good,” Haechan replies, and you roll your eyes without looking up. A shadow crosses over your phone and a water droplet hits your screen, making you glower up at the grinning male in front of you.

“Haechan?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.” You scoff, and he groans.

“I was getting to you.” He laments. “I shouldn’t have let you leave the room earlier.”

“Let me–Haechan, you don’t ‘let’ me do anything,” You laugh incredulously. “As a matter of fact, I’m gonna let you finish your hair on your own. The hard part’s done; just blow dry it.”

“Aw, come on, I didn’t mean it like that,” He whines, and you shrug.

“Don’t care. Good luck with your hair.” You wave your fingers in a wave as you leave amidst his complaints.

Looks like your afternoon with yourself just got bumped up, you think to yourself as you head to your room and get to pulling out your vibrator.

“Huh…weird.” You mumble in confusion when it’s not where you usually put it. You go and look for your other toys only to see that all of them are completely drained and the chargers or replacement batteries are nowhere to be found. You work yourself up into a bit of a frenzy trying to find something you can use to get yourself off and stop abruptly when you realize that you have one very good lead as to what happened to them.

“I’m gonna kill him,” You spit, whirling around on your heel and storming out of your room to find the alleged culprit.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

“Lee fucking Donghyuck.” You stomp into his room, the door banging loudly against the wall from the force of your well-placed kick.

“Ooh, not the government name,” Haechan chuckles, and his nonchalance only enrages you further, the male in question lying relaxed on his bed. “And you kicked in my door? Someone’s not happy,” He sing-songs, and you could scream, you’re so infuriated.

“Shut the fuck up, you insufferable fucking twat, and give me my fucking sex toys back.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Haechan meets your furious gaze with an unbothered obstinance that, honestly, makes you understand why people kill people.

“I will kill you and they will never find your body.” Your voice is low and level, but you’re practically vibrating with energy stemming from your fury towards Haechan, your frustration about the fact that you so desperately want to throttle him even though he’d probably like it, and, if you’re being honest, arousal. You’re beyond sexually frustrated at this point, you have no form of release, and you’re not going to use your fingers like a fucking cavewoman; it’s 2022, for fuck’s sake.

It is also not helping matters at fucking all that Haechan’s position on his bed is disgustingly attractive and sickeningly inviting; his legs spread and his feet flat on the bed, he gives you a full view of everything going on between his legs, his light grey shorts leaving enough to the imagination to have your eyes greedily roaming his tan, bare thighs.

“Someone looks a little pent-up,” Haechan muses, straightening out his legs so they’re still spread somewhat, and you dig your nails into the palm of your hands, wrapping your thumb on the outside of your fist just in case you need to start swinging—which, if you two continue down this path, you will. He cocks his head to the side and it kills you how attractive he looks right now, his vibrant pink hair tousled off his forehead and you want to pull his hair so hard he moans—cries.

You meant cries.

“Maybe you should relax, practice some self-love.” The quirk of a smile at the corners of his mouth combined with the way he subtly flicks his eyebrow upward have you burning white-hot with rage as you storm over to his bed and slam his laptop shut.

“I can’t practice any fucking self-love, dipshit,” You sneer. “You’ve made sure of that.”

“Again—no clue what you’re on about.” Haechan must be a little bit smarter than you thought, because despite his sticking to his story, you do see a momentary flash of panic in his eyes.

“I will turn this room upside down and inside out until I find them. I will take a hammer to whatever fucking gaming console that is in the living room—“

“Okay!” He caves instantly, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, I have your toys.” He announces with a smug little smile that just makes you want to sock him directly in the jaw.

“You’re a fucking ass for taking them in the first place–not to mention a creep.” You scoff, placing one hand on your hip. “Now give them back.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” Haechan replies casually.

You blink twice. “What?”

“I don’t wanna give you your toys back.” He says simply, shrugging in such a lackadaisical manner that your indignation and fury are put on hold in favor of bewilderment.

“…Why not?” You reply, your tone far too flat for it to have any sort of inquisitive inflection, but it hangs in the air between you two, an unspoken demand for an answer.

“Did you know I’m bigger than the biggest toy you have?” Haechan inquires, his responding question a roundabout way of answering yours.

“I didn’t ask.”

“I know–I’m telling.”

“Well, stop it.” You huff, your mind making way for your frustration once more. He runs his fingers through his hair, and you falter for a moment, your mouth feeling drier than it was before. “Haechan, I don’t have all fucking day; give me my toys.”

“Or what?” He grins widely at you. “You won’t trash any of the gaming equipment because Jeno uses it too…so what’s your ultimatum, pretty?”

“Fine.” You practically snarl, breathing in deeply in an attempt to calm yourself somewhat. It fails. “I’ll just use your toothbrush,” You counter, smiling sweetly. “It’s the electric one, right? Interesting vibrations, but I bet I could make it work.”

“That’s the one,” Haechan confirms, his eyes now shamelessly eyeing you from top to bottom. “Do me a favor and don’t rinse it when you’re done.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You brought it up!”

“Yeah, as a joke, you little freak!” You cry, exasperated.

“Whatever,” He replies, having the audacity to look somewhat put out.

“I can’t fucking stand you, Haechan.” You growl, pinching the bridge of your nose to offset the headache you’re sure is coming on.

“Careful–talk to me nicely if you want your toys back.” He reminds you.

Your eye twitches.

“Fuck being nice; I’ll sue you.” You blurt out, and Haechan laughs at that, only further enraging you.

“Oh, yeah? Sue me for what?”

“Theft!”

“Right,” He drawls as he finally swings his legs off of the bed and stands up. “How are you gonna look when you’re standing in front of a judge and jury, whining and pouting because of a…Large Purple Vibrating Jelly Dong with G-spot Stimulation?”

“Hey!” You squawk, offended. “…The large purple one doesn’t have g-spot stimulation.” Your defensive retort filters out as a sheepish mumble when you realize the absurdity of your words.

“Fun fact: mine is large.” Haechan starts, and you groan loudly, pressing your hands over your ears, attempting to drown him out to no avail. “It’s firmer than that weird fucking rubber, silicone shit they use, and I can definitely stimulate your g-spot.” He finishes proudly, and you blink impassively at him, willing yourself to calm down before you do something you’ll regret.

“You’re not purple,” You counter, “and you can’t vibrate.”

“Slap a vibrating cock ring on me and I’m vibrating, baby.” Haechan answers so smoothly that you wonder for a moment if he practiced this. “Thankfully for me, my dick is nowhere near purple.”

“Wish it was,” You mutter bitterly. “Maybe that’d knock you down a few pegs.”

“I still have a fully functioning mouth and set of hands,” He points out, unperturbed by the dismissive scoff you let out. “You can huff and puff all you want; I could have you losing your mind if you just gave me a fucking chance–”

“Why the fuck would I give you a chance, you fucking dimwit–“

“I could go down on you for hours–“

“You stole my fucking sex toys–”

“The ends justify the means–“

“This cannot be real. There’s no way this is actually happening. Maybe I’m having a nightmare.”

“This is very much real life,” Haechan snickers, reaching for your arm with his index and thumb out as if he’s going to pinch you. Your body reacts before you even know what’s happening.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Haechan, I could actually murder you right now!” You yell, smacking his hand away from you. You don’t stop there, pushing Haechan’s shoulders roughly so he falls back onto his bed, his eyes wide in surprise and, if you’re not mistaken, unadulterated enjoyment. You pause, your gazes meeting, and you have never seen anyone look at you with this much blatant desire, let alone Haechan. “Is this seriously turning you on right now?!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about–“ He shifts slightly on the bed, adjusting his legs as if he’s uncomfortable. You look down at his lap and–

“Dude, your dick is hard!” You yell, and his eyes widen as he shushes you quickly, moving to sit up. “Don’t you fucking move.” You order, and he freezes, very visibly contemplating whether or not to listen, but he must finally see the very thin thread of your sanity pulled alarmingly taut because he obliges, reclining back into his somewhat vulnerable position.

You’re staring at Haechan, unmoving as you contemplate escalating to physical violence, and it hits you again, as he lies on his back on his bed and his eyes have this almost burning intensity to them as he watches you intently, that Lee Donghyuck is fine as fuck.

You’re talking, like, really fine–one of the finest guys in your year, for sure. You could even say top five, honestly–

…You want to fuck Haechan. You are coming to the full realization and stony, bitter even, acceptance of the fact that you are unequivocally turned on by Haechan and you would fuck him in a heartbeat if the circumstances were favorable for once. You could just be delirious, though; the pent-up sexual frustration building in you from this whole week could just be directing itself at the first attractive person you see, who happens to be the very cause of your lack of release this whole week. Now you’re angry again, but still turned on, but angry that you’re turned on, and this is such a whirlwind and your head hurts–

You haven’t moved or spoken in a while, you realize belatedly. You and Haechan have been frozen in the same positions, Haechan’s probing gaze somehow never faltering as he watches you tensely. You briefly scan your surroundings for something you can use to attack him without injuring anything but his pride, and your eyes land on his pillow.

Haechan follows your gaze, and his eyes widen in alarm. You both lunge for the pillow, and you realize a moment after you’ve grabbed it with one hand that Haechan seems very invested in keeping the pillow where it is, the male pushing it down in place. You yank the pillow roughly, shifting it a few inches, and keep yanking it as the two of you scuffle, both of you grunting with effort and muttering determinedly under your breath.

After what feels like ages of a stupid game of tug-of-war, Haechan seems to give up, shoving his hand under the pillow and removing it quickly, hiding his hand behind his back, but it’s too late–you’d know that specific shade of pink that you just saw a flash of anywhere.

“You kept my vibrator under your pillow?” You can barely contain your shriek of disbelief, and at least Haechan has enough self-awareness to look somewhat sheepish as he gets to his feet once more, now on the opposite side of his bed as an attempt to keep his distance. “Oh, my God.”

“Listen–”

“Under your pillow–”

“Keep your voice down–”

“It’s not like you’re gonna get fucked by proximity, or association, or osmosis or some shit–”

“Would you shut up?” Haechan hisses in the most irritated tone that you think you’ve ever heard him speak to you with, and it startles you into a stunned silence.

Haechan’s relief is short-lived.

“...You stole my vibrator…among my other toys.” You say slowly, staring him down and speaking as if he’s stupid. “You kept my vibrator under your pillow…and you think you get to tell me to shut up?”

“Look–” Haechan sighs, and now he’s pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No, you look, Mr. Sex Toy Stealer,” You snap irritably, and his jaw clenches as he visibly struggles not to roll his eyes.

You hate how attractive that was.

“I don’t know what you thought this was going to accomplish. Did you think this would work like–like…a kinky version of the Tooth Fairy or something? You’d sleep with my vibrator under your pillow and would wake up to your dick in my mouth or something?” You huff, brows furrowed in confusion and incredulity.

“No–”

“I’m talking, not you.” You glare at him, and he falls silent once more, visibly annoyed as he pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

Again–disgustingly attractive.

“Anyway,” You continue, “I can’t even figure out, for the life of me, why you’re so hellbent on sleeping with me. You hype yourself up to me all the time, talking about your stamina, your abilities, the size of your dick–you name it, I’ve probably fucking heard it.” You throw your hands up in the air exasperatedly, pointing at Haechan with a smug expression. “You know what? I bet you’re bluffing.” You muse thoughtfully, and you have to take a moment to thank the powers that be for not letting you miss out on his incredible, albeit slightly unexpected reaction.

His eyebrows shoot upwards, eyes widen, jaw drops, and Haechan manages to look offended, incredulous, and pissed all at once. You never expected your jab to receive such a rewarding reaction, and now you’re curious to see how far you can push him until he…well, you don’t really know what he’ll do, which is exactly why you want to find out.

“I am not bluffing.” Haechan says slowly, staring you directly in the eyes with a certain unnerving darkness to his gaze that you’ve never seen from him before.

“Mm, you probably are.” You hum thoughtfully, starting to walk around his bed towards him, Haechan only watching you with his same unreadable expression as you get closer and closer.

“Watch it.” He warns you, and your devilishly gleeful grin widens.

“Or what, Haechan?” Your voice is dangerously quiet to Haechan, sweeter than he’s ever heard you sound, and among his alarm and frustration with you, he feels his cock stirring in his pants with intrigue and arousal. “What is Mr. Pencil Dick-”

“Hey–”

“Sex Toy Stealer gonna do?” You’re even closer now, voice even softer and sweeter than it was before. Haechan is glowering down at you and you’re smiling sweetly at him, your mutual switch in demeanors not lost on the both of you.

“Pencil Dick?” Haechan scoffs, and you shrug. “You’ve literally seen my dick print.”

“So?” You reply casually, to which Haechan rolls his eyes. “That’s just a print. Could be a trick of the light.”

“You know good and well it’s not just a fucking print–” He growls, and you raise your hands in mock surrender.

“Fine!” You seem to acquiesce, and Haechan raises a brow, staring at you as if waiting for the punchline to hit. He is not mistaken. “Big or not, you have to know how to use it, and you…don’t seem like you do.” You’re blatantly lying now; Haechan does seem more than capable of using his dick, but you need to get under his skin the way he does yours.

“Fine.” He replies with an air of finality, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Fine?”

“You want your toy so bad?” He replies, wagging it teasingly in your line of sight, and your eyes narrow.

“Duh.”

“Come over here and take it from me.” If you were focusing on anything other than the hot pink vibrator in his hand, you’d have noticed the dangerous glint in his eye along with his challenging tone.

“Fine.” You scoff, striding over to him so you two are practically face to face. You reach for it, your hand level with his shoulder, and he moves it just out of your reach.

“Try again.” He sing-songs, and you growl under your breath, reaching for it again only for the same thing to happen. “Come on, pretty girl, I thought you wanted it?”

“Haechan, stop being an asshole and give it–” You huff, lunging for it another time, Haechan now holding the toy over your head just out of reach. “God, you act like you’re so fucking tall, dude. You’re fucking 5’9” on a good day.” You snap, and he glowers down at you, backing away with the toy as you follow, continuing to attempt to grab it. You’re under the impression he’s just being an ass by walking away from you, but he makes his intentions clear quickly as he wraps his arm around your waist and spins you around, pinning you up against the wall by his bedroom door without even breaking his stride. With the hand holding your vibrator that he doesn’t have placed on the wall to the side of your head, he pushes his door shut with one hand, the telltale sound of the door clicking alerting you to just how alone the two of you are now.

In the whirlwind of events that just happened, the only constant you can track is that Haechan’s eyes never once left you, the male staring you down intently with all the determination of a predator about to strike.

“All that shit you said to rile me up was cute, pretty girl,” Haechan says slowly, every syllable hitting you lower and lower on your body until they’re sending jolts of desire directly to your core, your throat refusing to cooperate as you attempt to swallow before meeting his gaze. “I wonder if you’ll think it’s cute when I have you crying and losing it on my cock in a moment.”

“I definitely would be crying if I had to teach my aggravatingly flirtatious roommate how to use the alleged monster cock he’s got in his pants,” You retort, and by the way Haechan’s eyebrows shoot upwards, you get the feeling he didn’t appreciate that line too much.

So you continue.

“As a matter of fact,” You muse thoughtfully, struggling to hide the glee on your face at the sight of an extremely pissed Haechan, “I bet any tears I would cry would be in solidarity with all the gorgeous, gorgeous girls that you couldn’t make cum–”

“If you’re so sure I can’t make you cum, then let me try.” He proposes, a fire alight in his eyes that you find incredibly attractive and somewhat unsettling. “Otherwise, you’re afraid to put your money where your mouth is.”

“Mm, no thanks; I hate being edged.” You hum dismissively as you look down at your nails casually, and Haechan’s responding chuckle is filled with absolutely bitter amusement that has something very sadistic purring in satisfaction inside of you. “Plus, you have all of my toys, so I don’t even know how I’d get myself off.”

“Guess you have no other options then.”

“Guess I’ll go buy more sex toys.” You look up just in time to catch his reaction, Haechan’s frustration plainly displayed on his face, but even as he huffs and puffs about how difficult you’re being, he can’t stop staring at your mouth no matter what he does. A smile quirks the corners of your lips upwards as the realization hits that Haechan is almost entirely mesmerized by you right now, his lust and agitation battling it out so visibly that it makes a fascinating spectacle.

“If you seriously go buy another sex toy, you’re going to look like the biggest, most stubborn brat–”

“Speaking of looking, Haechan, you look like you wanna kiss me right now,” You taunt, a breathless laugh escaping you, and he glares down at you with a deeply annoyed expression, and you suddenly get it when he tells you that you look hot when you’re mad, because, fuck, he looks good right now.

“Shut up.” His reply is curt, more brusque than he’s ever been with you, and your eyes widen as a grin overtakes your face.

“Oh, wow, you do! Oh, you wanna kiss me so bad.” You taunt, leaning forward and staring at his lips the way he’s been doing yours, nibbling your bottom lip as you look back up at him. “Don’t you, Haechan?”

“I’m warning you,” Haechan replies slowly, deliberately, as he watches your lips with all the intensity and focus of a hawk. “Don’t play with me like that.”

“Who’s playing? I’m stating facts,” You counter as innocently as possible. “I’m standing here. Fact?” You ask, waiting for Haechan’s response. When he clenches his jaw and looks away from you, you tsk disapprovingly and hold his chin between your index and thumb, turning his face back so his gaze is on you. “This is the part where you answer, Haechan.”

“…Fact.” He says reluctantly, and you smile, nodding and moving his chin so he’s nodding as well.

“Good. You have my vibrator in your hand. Fact?”

“…Fact.”

“Good. You have me pressed against this wall. Fact?”

“Fact.”

“You’re getting it!” You say as sweetly yet patronizingly as you can manage. “You want to kiss me. Fact?” At his silence, you raise your eyebrows, rocking onto the balls of your feet to get in his face even more. As if he’s in a trance, his lips gravitate towards yours so suddenly, you’d swear you were both magnetic. A quick glance up to his face shows that his eyes are heavy-lidded, the visible parts trained on your mouth, and you lean in just a bit more, like you’re going to kiss him, making him move to meet you and fall right into your trap of following your lips even as you sink back down onto your heels. “Fact?” You repeat, and he rolls his eyes before his lids flutter shut, reopening them to stare you down with a dead set expression that thrills you. “Haechan.”

“Fact,” He practically spits out, and you laugh, delighted.

“You wanna kiss me so bad, it’s messing with your head.” You coo condescendingly, and Haechan groans, clearly aggravated. “Fact?” Haechan doesn’t answer, and you pinch his chin again, preparing to turn his head towards you again.

Everything happens very fast. Haechan sucks his teeth, mutters, “Fuck it,” under his breath, smacks your hand away from his face but grabs your wrist, yanks you towards him, and seals his mouth over yours in a heated, all-consuming kiss. Your attempt at a gasp is swallowed by his dominating lips as they move confidently against yours, his lips warm and smooth as they slot between yours and suck on your bottom lip.

“Haechan,” You moan into his mouth, and he groans in satisfaction, his free arm winding around the small of your back to pull you flush against him, the sound of your vibrator thudding to the floor barely registering as his lips greedily steal your every attempt to breathe. You’re left whimpering desperately for an opportunity to take in a gulp of air, and Haechan finally has mercy on you, breaking the kiss momentarily to allow you to breathe, which you do gratefully, breathing in deeply as he studies your face, your glistening, pouty lips, and your wide-eyed expression, your pupils blown wide with pure desire as you stare back at him. His gaze drops back down to your lips and he subconsciously licks his own, his grip tightening around your back and evoking a small whine of longing from you.

“Pretty girl,” Haechan murmurs, his lips teasing your own apart, “I’m gonna fuck you senseless.” The words leave his lips oddly like a promise, spoken with such determination that you swallow thickly, one hand coming up to clutch at his arm before you summon the energy to poke the bear once more.

“Are you sure you’re capable of that?” Your words come out breathier and huskier than you expected, your voice somewhat stolen by the passion of Haechan’s kiss, and he raises his brows, poking his tongue in his cheek before grinning and leaning back down to recapture your lips with his own. He nips and sucks and licks at your lips, his tongue parting the seam of your lips without even giving you a choice and flicking teasingly at your own, only pulling back so he can suck on your tongue or bottom lip.

“Gonna fuck you so good,” He grunts, whirling you two around and walking you towards his bed. When the backs of your legs hit the foot of his bed, his hands drop to your hips so he can lift you slightly and half-push, half-toss you onto the bed. You barely make it up from the initial bounce before he’s on top of you, his warmth and scent–which, you finally note, is intoxicating–enveloping you as he rests on top of you. “That you cry.” He finishes the sentence you didn’t know was incomplete in the first place, and a shudder runs down your spine when his spit-slicked lips kiss down to your chin, jaw, and neck, sucking and nipping harshly enough to have winces and moans leaving your lips freely.

Haechan continues to mouth at your neck while his hand slips between you two and runs up your side, cupping your breast over your shirt and squeezing, relishing the moan you let out. His lips attack your own again as his hand snakes up your shirt and strokes at the skin left exposed by your bra, his fingers pressing experimentally into the plushy flesh as his thumb swipes over your nipple, teasing the hint of the pebbled bud peeking through your bra.

Without another word, he sits up slightly, using both hands to push your shirt up and, once it passes your breasts, he switches to pulling it with quick yanks, not even giving you a chance to help before the shirt is hurriedly removed from your body. Haechan reassumes his position on top of you and attaches his lips to your neck, sucking and licking at the skin as one hand gropes at your chest eagerly but skillfully, knowing every way to knead and caress, every opportune moment to tug at your nipple through the fabric, and you have to give him props for that–if the warmth spreading throughout your underwear indicates what you believe it does, his ministrations so far have your underwear absolutely soaked with arousal.

His mouth travels lower and lower until he’s kissing the swell of your breasts, sucking wet patches of saliva onto your skin as one hand caresses your breast and your side. His touches are so distracting that you don’t even notice when he slips his hand under you to unhook your bra, the garment loosening out of seemingly nowhere before he’s pulling it off of you, thankfully more gingerly than he’d removed your shirt, and his lips are on your breasts without another moment of thought.

“Fuck,” You whisper in surprise as Haechan attacks your chest with wet kisses, surprisingly harsh sucking, and slightly gentler nipping. You can feel your eyes trying to roll back in your head from the pleasure, but, if you’re being honest with yourself, you want to watch him, Haechan’s full pink lips making for a very pretty picture as he sucks at your skin. He kisses around your areola, dragging the tip of his tongue around it teasingly as he watches your reaction. “Stop teasing,” You grunt, annoyed, and he chuckles.

“Just showing you what your toys could never do,” He retorts, and your comeback dies on your tongue in favor of the moan that bursts through when his lips fall to your nipple, the male swirling his tongue around the bud and sucking intently. The involuntary swear that falls from your lips only spurs Haechan on more as he shifts his weight slightly so he’s lying mostly beside you, one hand splayed across your stomach before he moves it downwards, fingers dragging so heavy-handedly that, if he had longer fingernails, you would see scratch marks beginning to form. His every move screams his presence, as if he’s reminding you that this is him doing this, no one–or thing, you suppose–else to give the praise of such pleasure.

As he sucks and licks at your breast, his hand slips under the waistband of your sweats, teases along the hem of your underwear, and dips lower to stroke languidly along the seat of your very damp underwear, even pushing in over your entrance to give you the strange but not undesirable sensation of his fingers, surrounded by the warm, wet fabric of your underwear, pushing into your entrance shallowly. A sharp gasp leaves you, and Haechan chuckles, his teeth biting down gently on your nipple as he grins.

“You like that, huh?” He muses, and you bite back the moan you want to let out as you remember he’s trying to prove a point and that you’d rather not make his job this easy. “Getting quiet on me all of a sudden?” He murmurs softly, too softly given the context. Your suspicions are confirmed when he, again, moves more quickly than you’re able to comprehend in the circumstances; he shifts back on top of you, maneuvers his fingers past your underwear, switches to suck on your other nipple, and starts to trace up and down your slick folds, finally pushing into you and providing you with some relief.

“Holy shit,” You gasp, your hips moving of their own accord as you try to lift yourself into his touch.

“You can keep that pretty mouth quiet all you want–I’ll just listen to how loud your wet little pussy is.” Haechan says smugly from around your nipple, and you’re about to fire back a retort, but he sucks particularly roughly on your nipple and starts to fuck you diligently with his fingers, the wet sounds of his fingers moving in and out of your core making your face burn with embarrassment at how needy you feel for him. “Try and stay quiet now,” He mumbles, the message seemingly for you but delivered almost entirely to himself, and he’s right–it’s almost impossible for you to hold in your whimpers and moans, his name even threatening to slip from your lips, but you thankfully hold that back.

When a swear almost makes its way out, you clap your hand over your mouth, and Haechan glares up at you with an affronted expression, his hand moving from your breast to grab the wrist of the hand covering your mouth and pin it beside your head, shooting you a challenging look that makes you think that maybe you shouldn’t try that again.

“God, fuck,” You groan, unable to hold it in any longer and, as if he’s rewarding you, Haechan speeds up the pace of his fingers, letting you buck your hips into his hand as much as you’d like as his palm presses against your mound, providing delicious pressure and relief to your clit as your hips buck and roll against his hand.

“That’s it,” He coos, your nipple slipping from his mouth in favor of praising you, and it takes an impressive amount of willpower not to melt at the positive remark, your eyes shutting tightly as that tugging sensation in your lower abdomen starts to build, your climax approaching quickly.

A low whine builds inside of you, increasing in volume the closer your climax gets, and when it hits, the dam bursts, and a number of sounds emerges from you, stuttered gasps and cries fighting to leave you first while your brain tries to keep them all inside, trying and failing not to give Haechan the satisfaction of hearing how much pleasure he’s giving you.

“See? Now, didn’t that feel nice?” Haechan lilts tauntingly as his hand releases your arm he’d pinned down, and your eyes narrow in his direction.

“Shut up, Haechan.” You grouch. “All you proved was you know how to finger someone.”

“Which is foreplay,” He points out. “Which most guys are shit at.”

“Guys are also shit at the actual fucking part.” You reply, surprisingly composed considering the foggy clouds of arousal swimming in your head right now.

“Fine,” Haechan counters, reaching down to untie the string on his sweats, and you swat his hand away with a judgmental look. “What now?”

“We’re not doing it this way,” You laugh, and he looks down at you, mildly baffled. “I’m on top. You’re only replacing my sex toy, remember?” You remind him, and he rolls his eyes before rolling off of you and onto his back.

“Kinda forgot about that,” He admits. “That was–you were–you are–so hot, it just slipped my mind.”

You let out a huff of amusement and sit up, preparing to straddle him even as he sits up and leans into another kiss, his lips moving against yours with a desperation that refuses to let you catch a breath, Haechan cutting off your weak moan as you attempt to pull off to breathe by cupping the back of your neck and pulling you down into another kiss.

“God,” You finally gasp when he releases you (or, really, you manage to release yourself) from the kiss.

“It’s pronounced Haechan,” The male under you replies with a cocky grin, and you shoot him an unimpressed look.

“First of all, you wish. Second of all, hurry up,” You huff, sitting back on your heels as he maneuvers himself into a sitting position, his back against his headboard. “Much better,” You murmur, scratching under his chin with one finger, surprised when he shudders in pleasure at your act that was supposed to be condescending. “Interesting,” You muse to yourself, and he glowers at you before pressing the head of his cock against your entrance, provoking an immediate gasp of surprise from you.

“You ready?” He mumbles, barely looking up at you as he studies the way his tip looks pressing against you, changing his grip so his cock is leaning more towards his stomach and using one hand to guide your hips so you’re rocking against his length, coating it with your arousal.

“Stop teasing,” You gripe, and he flicks his gaze up to you, studying your expression before looking back down. “My toy would never do this to me.” You get his attention at that, his glare up at you thrilling you as he sucks his teeth and positions himself at your entrance again.

“Your toy also wouldn’t know how to fuck the attitude out of you.” He counters, and enters you before you can reply, slowly but steadily filling you up. You hate to admit it, but he feels amazing, the sensation of his length gradually pushing into you sending pleasure signals all throughout your body and fogging your mind even more than it already was. “That’s what I thought,” He says, sounding smug, and you snap out of whatever reverie he placed you in to realize that your hands are gripping his shoulders, your head tipping back from the pleasure, and you struggle for a moment, but manage to compose yourself.

“Didn’t moan,” You retort, and he leans forward, trailing kisses up your neck.

“You will.” He sounds so certain that it almost frightens you, his hands moving to help guide you up and down his length, the feeling of him moving inside of you so overwhelmingly pleasurable that your eyes almost roll back in your head.

“Won’t,” You breathe, and he just shoots you a challenging stare. He starts to thrust his hips up, gradually fucking up into you, and you grit your teeth, struggling not to cry out at how good he feels. His every thrust is powerful and driven, his desire to prove something to you evident in his every move, but you can sense his growing frustration as you refuse to make any sort of pleasure-filled noise, the only acceptable sounds you’re allowing yourself to make being stuttered breaths.

“You know it feels good, stop being difficult,” He groans, dragging his teeth down your neck, over your collarbones, and to your chest, where he kisses, licks, and sucks at the skin, hands leaving your hips to press your breasts together and in his face, his lips immediately wrapping around one of your nipples and sucking.

“‘M not being difficult,” You grit out, and he rolls his eyes at you, releasing your nipple with a wet pop.

“Then tell me how good it feels,” He urges. You shake your head.

“Your ego’s big enough.”

“Tell me.” He presses.

“My toys don’t need their little egos fluffed,” You taunt, leaning down so your lips are almost touching. “I thought you were better than them?”

“God, you’re so–I can’t–fuck,” He stammers, his head lolling back onto the headboard, and you grin smugly.

“Haechan,” You purr, deliberately clenching around him and relishing in the choked gasp he lets out. “Are you gonna cum?”

“No,” He groans, but his body tells a different story as his thrusts up into you grow unsteady and erratic.

“If you cum before I do, you’re no better than my toys.” You tease, and he growls under his breath, stilling himself as he’s buried inside of you and breathing shallowly, his chest heaving as he, you assume, restrains himself from finishing. He lifts his head up from leaning back against the headboard and his eyes refocus on you, still hazy but there’s a steely resolve behind them that’s both impressive and intimidating. “All good now?”

“Yeah,” He exhales, and you tilt his chin up so he’s looking directly at you.

“Good boy,” You coo condescendingly, and nothing in the world could have prepared you for his reaction. His eyes roll back in his head, fingers grip your hips tighter, a tremor visibly runs through his body, and he groans loudly in ecstasy. “You’re a little slut for praise,” You marvel, and his gaze snaps back onto you immediately, closing his eyes and chuckling in a way that you both did not expect and do not believe bodes well for you.

“That’s it.” He looks up at you and pulls you off of him, setting you down next to him.

Haechan moves you the way he wants quickly—and, if you’re being honest, a bit roughly—so you’re on your back with him settled between your legs, and he lifts your legs so your knees bend and pushes them towards your chest, letting you hold them in the air as he strokes the underside of your thighs in rhythmic motions.

“You’re such a little brat,” He huffs, still sounding amused, and you smile up at him with a look of faux innocence.

“If you can’t handle it, you can give me my toys and I’ll be out of here.” You bite back with a sickly sweet smile, and he chuckles.

“You know what I think is the best part of fucking with brats?” He asks as if you hadn’t even spoken, and you roll your eyes.

“What?” You ask, and he leans over so you two are face to face, speaking his next words slowly and carefully.

“Breaking them.” The look in his eyes silences you, the intensity more than a little intimidating, and he studies your face before grinning and leaning back up, pushing your knees as close to your chest as you can handle. “Hold them.” When you comply, he mirrors your feigned sweet smile from earlier. “Good girl.”

“Oh, fuck off,” You snap, and he raises an eyebrow.

“I could fuck off right now, actually.”

“Great! I’ll just use my toys.”

“You’re not getting those back.” He says simply, and you splutter indignantly.

“What the fuck do you mean by I’m not getting them back?” You demand, and he stares at you blankly.

“I mean that you’re not getting them back. You have me now,” He answers you, smiling and patting you between your legs, his smile widening when you jolt from the sudden attention your clit receives from the less-than-gentle pats.

“I don’t want you,” You retort, watching as he lowers himself so his face is level with your body. “I want my toys,” You whine, and he mimics your whining tone, rolling his eyes.

“Too fucking bad.” He counters, and his mouth is on you before you can think of anything to say back. A whine escapes you immediately when he looks up at you with a challenge in his eyes, his mouth sucking and kissing at the fleshy folds just below your clit, and he makes a mini-spectacle of letting his tongue loll out, the pink muscle warm and wet against your core. He drags his tongue up your folds repeatedly, his actions getting heavier and more forceful when he nears the underside of your clit to deliver an almost electric jolt of pleasure to you.

It’s safe to say that you’re probably about to lose your fucking mind.

Haechan laps at your pussy greedily, fingers digging into the underside of your thighs roughly as he pushes his face between your legs forcefully, and his lewd moans of enjoyment have your face blazing with heat, suddenly deeply nervous as you remember Jeno’s one door down and, if he’s not wearing headphones, can probably hear you two. Two fingers press at your entrance, sliding in with ease, and you cry out weakly, your grip slackening on your thighs as you start to struggle in holding yourself open for the male currently devouring your pussy.

“You said you don’t want me, but that’s not true, is it?” He asks tauntingly, his fingers pumping in and out of you quickly, and you look away, embarrassed by how loud the wet sounds are of him touching you. “This pretty little pussy wouldn’t lie to me.” He coos almost fondly, leaning in and puckering his lips around your clit to give it little kisses that he has to know are only riling you up further, and sucking on it gently.

“Stop teasing, you assho–oh, fuck,” You inhale sharply when he takes your clit into his mouth and sucks hard, letting it slip from his mouth with a wet sound before spreading your lips and flicking your clit back and forth with his tongue rapidly, groaning in satisfaction as he watches your eyes glaze over with pleasure, your jaw dropping in shock. “Fuck,” You gasp, breathless as his fingers hook inside of you, the pads of his middle and ring fingers fucking directly into your g-spot, and he removes his mouth from you with a sloppy wet sound and sits up slightly, looking you directly in the eyes as he spits directly on your pussy, grinning when you gasp in surprise and mild disgust.

“This pretty little pussy belongs to me now,” Haechan grunts.

“You wish,” You scoff defiantly, and he just shoots you a charming but wicked grin.

“You’re granting my wish right now.” He counters, and you prepare to snark back at him, but he delivers a sharp, abrupt slap to your pussy, causing a yelp of pain, shock, and, if you’re honest with yourself, arousal to escape you. “You like that, don’t you?” He murmurs with a devilish grin, smacking it again, and you whine, moving to close your legs defensively, but he swats both of your inner thighs as a warning, and you hesitantly keep them open, jolting as he slaps your pussy again. “Tell me it’s mine.” He orders.

“Nope,” You say stubbornly. Smack. “Fuck!”

“Tell me.”

“I don’t want–” Smack. “It’s yours!” You cry out, feeling the building of your next climax in your lower abdomen, that tugging feeling that intensifies with every slap of his hand against your clit.

“Whose is it?”

“Yours,” You gasp, and he brings the hand previously smacking your core—which, you note with a twinge of embarrassment, is absolutely glistening with your arousal and some of his saliva—to your clit, rubbing quick circles around the sensitive bud, and your climax is nothing short of explosive. Your eyes screw shut immediately as white floods your vision, and your whole body feels abuzz, alight with ecstasy, the pleasure so consuming you don’t even know what the sounds you’re making are, the only things you can make out being Haechan’s name and a number of swears. He helps you ride your climax out for as long as you possibly can, not letting up on his finger fucking or his ministrations on your clit, and only stops when you release your legs, attempting to curl in on yourself protectively.

“We’re not done here,” He chuckles, positioning himself on his knees between your legs and guiding his cock to your entrance. Your eyes widen in bewilderment and anything you had planned to say flies out of your mind as soon as his length pushes into you fully, stopping when he’s fully buried in you, the only noise you do make sounding like something between a slow, shaky intake of air and a desperate whimper.

“Don’t worry,” He says in a comforting tone as he leans down to your face. “You’re almost there.” You go slack in relief as he places a quick kiss to your lips before sitting back up and pulling out slowly, almost to the tip, before thrusting back in with a quick rolling snap of his hips, and you cry out in ecstasy, provoking him to repeat the action over and over until he’s fucking you at a steady pace.

“Oh, my God,” You whimper tearfully, and Haechan lets out a smug chuckle.

“You like that, hm? Yeah?” He mocks you as you whimper and nod desperately. “Like me fucking you nice–and–deep like this?” He punctuates his last couple of words with powerful thrusts, and you can’t help but let out stuttered whines with every thrust. “Where’s all that fire from earlier, hm?” One day, you suppose you’ll find it in you to resent the utterly mocking and condescending tone he’s taking with you; that day, however, is not today, nor is it in the foreseeable future, because you’re not even sure you’ll have enough brain cells left to process anger or anything other than being cock-drunk and fucked out.

When Haechan angles his hips so his every thrust has him rutting against your clit, you protest immediately, a sharp cry slipping from you as you swat him away in a panic.

“Not there,” You plead breathlessly, not knowing how much more your poor clit can take. Haechan coos at you in faux sympathy, reaching between you two. His hand makes a beeline for your clit, tweaking, twisting, pulling, and pinching the swollen bud as you squirm under him, desperate sobs of exhaustion and overstimulation leaving you.

“Not here?” He taunts you with a mockingly sweet tone, and you whimper, melting under his touch. “Isn’t this what you wanted? You wanted this, what’s wrong? You wanted to cum and I’m making you cum so many times–you should be thanking me.” He purrs, and at your nonsensical whining and babbling, sits up slightly. “As a matter of fact? When you cum, I want you to thank me.” He says with a smug grin, and you don’t even have it left in you to fight back, giving him a tired but emphatic nod in response.

“Close,” You gasp, your eyes rolling back into your head, and he grunts in acknowledgment, his length throbbing as your walls clench around him and urge him closer to his own release.

“What do you say?” He pants through gritted teeth, and you throw your pride out the metaphorical window, figuring you can do the walk of shame to get it later.

“Thank you,” You stammer, and your climax hits, your back arching off of the bed so forcefully your muscles practically scream in protest. Haechan’s powerful thrusts don’t let up until he’s finished climaxing, the only sounds to be heard now being the bed moving, skin slapping against skin, his breathless grunts, and your weakly repeated mantra of “thank you” filling the room as his thrusts slowly come to a stop.

Haechan pulls out of you slowly, both of you letting out a sound of disappointment as you lose the feeling of him filling you up and he loses the feeling of your walls wrapped around him nice and tight. When he’s sitting back on his heels, his length now fully removed from you, you weakly close your legs, not yet willing to admit that Haechan may have successfully fucked the energy out of you on a level your toys could never provide.

If you’re being really honest, you’re pretty sure most partners you could have in the future wouldn’t be able to fuck you as incredibly mindless as Haechan just did, and you’re extremely reluctant to say out loud or even acknowledge that Haechan really is insanely good in bed. You’re brought out of your daze by the feeling of something cold being pressed to your lips, your head flinching back before you look down the mouth of a water bottle and relax.

“You should drink it,” Haechan persists, and you sit up slightly, taking the bottle from him and sipping from it gingerly as Haechan moves to sit beside you on his bed. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” You mumble, silently surprised by how drained you sound. Haechan gets a bit of a smug look on his face that, for the first time in ever, you let slide because it really is deserved. “Hey, Haechan?”

“Mm?”

“You were right.” You bite the bullet, and his head whips around to look at you incredulously. “That was…good.”

“…Good?” He sounds displeased with your word choice which, actually, you can say is fair because he was so much more than just good.

“You were really fucking good, Haechan.” You admit, and he grins at you, visibly more content with your description. “Like…really good.”

“I know,” He says with a cocky little grin that sends a little flutter through your body. “Don’t doubt me next time.”

“…Next time?” You say, confused, and Haechan looks down at you with an equally confused expression.

“…Next time we…?” He gestures between the two of you, and you raise your eyebrows.

“Oh! Oh, no.” You laugh, and he stares at you blankly.

“What?”

“Haechan, that was great and all, but it’s not happening again.” You explain, and he huffs in disbelief.

“You’ve gotta be kidding.” He exhales slowly, and you pat his arm comfortingly.

“I am not.” You say calmly, and climb out of his bed to start grabbing at your clothes, putting each garment on as you find it and doing your best to ignore the way that Haechan stares at you incredulously the entire time. Before long, you’re dressed once more and are putting on a very brave face to hide how your legs feel like jelly, your brain feels like slime, and you fear that giving into Haechan this time may have opened a can of worms because looking at him on his bed is just making you want to walk, wobble, waddle, whatever word works, over to him and let him take you again and again and again.

“Well. Thanks, I guess. I want all my shit back, by the way, Haechan.” You say seriously, and he glowers at you.

“Yeah,” He mutters, and you nod, now feeling awkward. So you leave with a little wave and head back to your room, collapsing onto your bed and groaning at your sore muscles.

“Jesus Christ, he’s good,” You huff, a little mad to have the wind knocked out of your sails like that; you were hoping he was at least a little incompetent in some way, but he wasn’t.

You can’t even manage to stay up for any longer, your eyes sliding shut before you get a chance to shower, use the bathroom, or make yourself feel any less icky, your whole body feeling some horrid combination of sweaty, slippery, and sticky. The last thought you have before passing out entirely is a hope that maybe Haechan proved his point and has no further business with you for your sake.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Your not-so-productive work session in your bedroom gets a disruption in the form of Haechan’s loud groan in the living room. You sit in place for a moment, not sure if you should even bother engaging, but he groans again, and you figure whatever he’s up to is more interesting than the paper you’re supposed to be writing, so you shut your laptop and shift it onto your bed, getting up and padding into the living room.

“What’s your problem?” You ask when you see Haechan sitting on the couch, his head tipped back on the cushion behind him.

“This fucking level,” He groans again, running his hand through his hair so forcefully that you briefly wonder if it hurt. “I keep losing.” He practically growls, turning his head to the side to look at you, and you shift your weight from one foot to the other, meeting his stare.

“What level?” You ask curiously, and even though Haechan’s brow lifts in skepticism, he gestures at the television screen with a jerk of his chin, and you move behind where he sits, leaning against the back of the couch. His eyes follow you the whole time as you take your new position, his tongue trailing along his upper lip in a blatantly suggestive move that you pretend you haven’t seen. “Oh…simply just do not lose next time you try it.” You offer, your tongue in your cheek as you grin teasingly down at him. He glowers up at you, rolling his eyes, and you maintain your taunting smile.

“Listen, it’s harder than you think!” Haechan insists when he looks back at the screen, and you shrug, smiling innocently at him.

“I can’t relate; I am a winner and I excel at everything I attempt.” You hum pleasantly, and Haechan snorts in amusement, looking back up at you with raised brows. You look down at him as you mirror his expression, Haechan’s eyes pointedly gravitating down from your face to your chest, his tongue sneaking out to wet his lips, and you scoff agitatedly as you push the back of his head so he’s looking at the screen again.

“Yeah, how’s that manifestation working out for you?” He chuckles, and you gasp in offense, provoking Haechan to look at you once more.

“I hope your current save glitches and erases itself.” You say with a sweet smile, and his eyes widen fearfully.

“You’re evil,” He remarks in horror and awe, and your smile just widens.

“Maybe.”

“Fine then, winner, how about you come over here and try it?” Haechan waves you over, patting beside him on the couch with the controller in his hand and you shrug, figuring it’s a better way to procrastinate than just sitting around doing nothing.

“Okay.” You agree, making your way around the couch to sit beside him, and Haechan looks at you with a startled expression the entire time.

“Our first date,” He whispers in awe, and you grimace at him, shaking your head.

“Hard pass. I’m gonna go stare at my laptop and pretend my work is doing itself.” You say, and Haechan pulls you back down when you move to stand up.

“I’m sorry, it was a joke! Here, I’ll explain the game and the controls and stuff,” Haechan offers, and you eye him skeptically, but he really does launch into a comprehensive explanation of the game he’s playing, and you definitely have to ask more clarifying questions than you’re comfortable with, but he answers them patiently and seems appreciative that you actually care.

“You’re getting the hang of it!” Haechan encourages you, his eyes wide, and you can’t help but narrow your eyes at him.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” You huff, nudging him with your shoulder, and he laughs, his gaze still trained on the screen as you navigate through the game on a new save point Haechan set up for you so you could get used to the controls.

“I can’t help it. Who would’ve thought a pretty girl like you had a natural gaming ability?” He chuckles, and you try your best to shield your reaction to the casual compliment from Haechan, disguising the whine you want to let out with a small cough and clearing your throat.

Unfortunately for you, that compliment wasn’t as casual as you’d thought it to be, and Haechan’s eyes study your micro-reaction to the name, a small smirk curling the corner of his mouth.

Also unfortunately for you, the pet name has unlocked something in your subconscious, your mind now slowly filtering in memories of the time you and Haechan spent together just the other day; recollections of the sounds he made, the way he felt, his hands, mouth, co–

“Look out!” Haechan exclaims, pointing at the screen, and you yelp in surprise, quickly navigate your character away from the threat he brought to your attention, and take a second to glare at him.

“You scared me!” You complain, bumping into him with your shoulder, and he scoffs in mock offense.

“I helped you!” He corrects you, scooting closer to mirror your earlier action, sending you lurching to the side. He bursts out into laughter that he at least attempts to contain when you start whining, placing both hands on either side of your waist and pulling you back up to your sitting position. “You drama queen.”

“Takes one to know one,” You gripe, and he rolls his eyes with an amused grin as he removes his hands from you, both of you now incredibly aware of how your thighs are pressed up against the other’s. Haechan’s gaze lifts from your touching legs to study your face, but you’re deliberately trained on the television, waiting until his eyes flick over to watch the screen to swallow thickly.

His thigh is warm, you note internally with a groan; you can feel the heat radiating from him, even through his grey sweatpants—which, you also note bitterly, you should fucking hide from him, the clothing item never failing to drive you mad as of late. You’re snapped from your reverie as he hits your side with the back of his hand repeatedly, his words rushing out in a flurry as he gives you pointers you can barely understand, leaving you to just follow the directions he’s giving you. When the tense moment passes, you both relax slightly, slumping back, and his hand falls from where it was poised to smack your side to land on your leg, slightly higher than you’d say “harmless touch” territory encompasses.

You both freeze at the sudden contact, eyes moving to look at his hand on your bare leg—he has really nice hands, you bemoan internally—and you look up at his face to see that he’s already looking at you, his stare unwavering and unnervingly attractive, a small noise of surprise (something between a squeak, squeal, and yelp; overall, an entirely undignified noise that you wish you could take to your grave) leaving you as you avert your gaze immediately.

He calls your name quietly, his voice serious and tone lower than usual, and you should be ashamed of how quickly your body reacts to him, your core clenching around nothing as the familiar warmth of desire starts to build inside of your abdomen, preparing to radiate through your whole body. You try your best to pretend that you simply didn’t hear him, but your sharp intake of breath when his hand squeezes your thigh slightly most definitely gives you away.

“Pretty girl,” Haechan’s tone barely sounds any different, but after the events of the other day, you’re fully tuned into the subtle shift, this delivery more insistent, more dominant; this is a demand for your attention, an order to look at him.

“Hm?” You hum softly, not yet trusting your voice to speak above a murmur, and you can hear him suck his teeth—in annoyance or disappointment, you’re not sure (because you’re not looking) but you’re willing to bet it’s a mix of both.

“You know what I want.” His voice is still level, deceptively even, like the calm before a storm, and it takes everything in you not to melt into a puddle right on the spot, your eyes dragging over to meet his gaze as if pulled by magnetic forces. The two of you last through maybe a couple of seconds of eye contact before you’re moving, his relieved groan mixing with your desperate whine as you two practically lunge at each other, your lips meeting immediately and moving against the other’s in sync. His fingers dig into your thigh uncomfortably for a moment before he releases your flesh and pulls you into his lap so you’re straddling him.

“God, fuck,” He groans in delight, the words strained with the effort of keeping his voice down. His hands do all of the talking his mouth can’t, palms pressing against you greedily, heavy-handed against your flesh as he gropes your hips and ass, squeezing firmly with a pleased grunt.

One hand leaves your hips, snaking up your shirt to hook his fingers in your bra cup and yank it down forcefully, his hand slipping out to push the hem of your shirt up past your breasts, and Haechan latches onto your nipple without another moment’s hesitation, sucking and licking as your fingers curl in his hair, your hips rocking against him under the firm guidance of his hand. When a sharp whine slips from your lips, Haechan looks up at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’d better be quiet,” He reminds you, staring directly at your mouth. “Keep those pretty little noises to a minimum if you don’t want Yena or Jeno to come find us.”

You nod quickly in agreement and he grins, his pink tongue peeking out to wet his lips before he pulls you into a heated kiss, both of you taking the opportunity to make noises as you please, his pants and grunts of pleasure alternating with your moans and gasps in a composition of the most desperate of symphonies.

He sucks at your bottom lip, tugging it and releasing it repeatedly to cherish the weak whines you vocalize every time he does it, and your fingers curl even harder in his hair, your nails lightly but deliciously scratching against his scalp.

“Shit, pretty girl,” He sounds throatier than usual after a particularly pleased whimper escapes you, and he pulls back from the kiss, taking your chin between his thumb and index finger and shaking your head from side to side in an endearing yet deeply patronizing gesture. “If you keep sounding so pretty, I’m not gonna be able to stop.”

“Then don’t,” You urge him, your voice surprising you when you hear it, it now sounding huskier and far more breathy than you can remember it ever being, and Haechan lets out an appreciative hum that sounds a lot like a growl, pulling your chin down so your lips connect once more. You resume your previously slowed pace of rolling your hips down against his lap, your clothed core rutting against his concealed length as you do your best to silence your moans and other sounds of pleasure when his kisses travel down lower until he’s licking and nipping at your neck. “No marks,” You gasp out, and he hums in acknowledgment, albeit a bit of an annoyed sort, and he busies himself with licking and sucking along your collarbones before he decides he’s satisfied, tapping your hip with one hand to get your attention and gesturing for you to turn around.

Once you do, he pulls you back into his lap, fingers digging into your shorts to tug them down; when you lift your hips to assist him and sit back down, the sudden skin-on-skin contact has you gasping involuntarily.

“Look at you,” Haechan coos condescendingly, fingers trailing along your inner thighs and showing you his digits, now glistening with your arousal. “So messy,” You can hear the mocking pout in his voice and you’re both aggravated by his cockiness and deeply attracted to it. “If we were alone in the apartment, I’d clean you up with my tongue,” He whispers in your ear, and your eyes just about roll back into your head at the thought. “Lift up a bit for me, pretty girl; spread just a bit for me—just like that, good.” He instructs you gently, nestling his length between your thighs and using your arousal as lubrication to bounce you up and down, fucking your thighs and grunting in satisfaction.

“Haechan,” You whine, brows furrowed as you realize his cock is just out of reach of your core, unable to offer you any sort of stimulation.

“I could cum just like this,” Haechan groans, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say there’s a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Well, I can’t!” You huff, and he hums sympathetically.

“No?” He asks, and you shake your head. “Even if I do this?” He asks, his hand reaching around you to rub quick, forceful circles against your clit, his lips reattaching to your neck to lick and suck.

“Holy shit,” You moan, your breathing growing labored as your pleasure builds. Lifting your hips just a bit higher than he has been, Haechan uses your state of arousal as a distraction to slip his thighs from between your thighs, your only warning the brief moment in which the head of his cock presses against your lower lips before he slides in without warning, pulling you down onto his cock until he’s fully buried inside of you. “Fuck, Haechan!” You hiss, and he chuckles devilishly, pressing apologetic kisses to the back of your neck.

“Sorry, pretty girl; just wanted you to know I wouldn’t leave you hanging like that.” He exhales, and you grip the couch cushions on either side of you, using the newfound stability to start bouncing up and down his length, both of you struggling to hold in your sounds of relief.

“God, feels so fucking good,” Haechan grunts, fighting against his fluttering eyelids that threaten to close, the male desperate to remain observant as you ride him but combatting the utterly draining pleasure coursing through him. “Missed this tight little pussy,” He pants, bucking his hips up to meet your downwards movements and grinning at the choked gasp you let out, your labored breaths each ending in a small whine as you chase your release, both of you so deliciously close until—

“Fuck,” You hiss loudly, fixing your shirt and bra and moving to shoot off of Haechan’s lap as a door opens from Haechan’s and Jeno’s side of the apartment, Haechan yanking you back into place and burying his cock in your folds, shushing you insistently and picking the abandoned controller up, resuming the game from where you left off.

“Hey, guys–” Jeno greets you two, stopping short at the sight of what is unmistakably you sitting on Haechan’s lap. “What are you doing?” He sounds more puzzled than suspicious, and you thank your lucky stars that Jeno’s a little clueless at times. Thankfully, the angle he’s standing at only grants him the view of your shoulders and up, so he’s none the wiser as to what you two are actually doing.

“I won a bet,” Haechan lies smoothly, looking over his shoulder at Jeno as he bounces his knees twice, his length pushing into you insistently. “She has to sit on my lap and be my good-luck charm while I play.” Haechan wraps his arms around your frame and hugs you tightly, swaying you from side to side with a big grin.

Two can play at that game, you think, and send a tight-lipped smile Jeno’s way, settling down harder onto Haechan’s lap and clenching around his length, your smile turning genuine as Haechan cries out through gritted teeth, the sound appearing to Jeno as one of pain from your forceful wiggling, but is actually one of almost overwhelmed pleasure, one hand leaving the controller to pinch your thigh, the sneaky act of revenge eliciting a wince from you that has Jeno’s brows furrowing in concern.

“Can you two be nice to each other? I don’t wanna come home to a crime scene.” Jeno asks worriedly, and you two nod quickly, far too quickly for both of your liking, but Jeno, yet again, notices nothing, shooting you both a friendly wave. “Okay, see you guys later; I’m going to the gym.”

“Bye!” You call after him, waiting for the door to shut and lock before you sigh in relief, your body going slack.

“We’re not done here, pretty girl,” Haechan taunts, his hand moving to your clit to pick up where he left off in rubbing quick, tight circles, and your sharp moan of surprise spurs you back into action, your hips lifting back up as you resume riding him, both of you wordlessly agreeing to keep an ear out for Yena.

His free hand moves from your hip to slide up your shirt, pinching, tweaking, and tugging at your nipple, the added stimulation too much for you to handle as your breathing picks up, quiet but desperate whines and pants of Haechan’s name and swears falling freely from your lips while your climax washes over you in waves, each rush more powerful than the one before it.

Shortly after you hit your peak, Haechan’s shuddered groan from behind you lets you know he’s coming right after you, his length twitching as he pulls your hips down, stuffing himself inside of your wet warmth fully and moaning as he releases inside of you, his legs trembling under you as his climax runs its course. Only when he’s sure he’s finished cumming does Haechan ease you off of his length, trying (and failing) to contain the appreciative moan that threatens to slip out when he catches a glimpse of your bare folds, glistening with a mix of his and your releases.

“So much for ‘that can’t happen again,’” Haechan chuckles as you both pull your pants back up.

“…Okay, but it really can’t this time.” You say seriously, turning to look at him, and he raises an eyebrow as he steps closer to you, tucking a finger under your chin and tilting your head up.

“How about that rule starts tomorrow? Come hang out with me in my room.” Haechan says in a suggestive murmur, smiling as your conflicted expression turns pensive.

“What are we doing in your room?” You ask slowly, and he shrugs.

“I’m gonna play more video games,” He says honestly, and you scoff lightly, rolling your eyes at his blatantly honest answer. “However, if I look over at my bed and there’s a very pretty girl lying there with a very pretty pussy for me to eat–”

“Haechan–” You protest immediately, cringing with a grimace at his crass language, but you can’t deny that something inside of you just stirred at the notion of Haechan’s head between your legs.

“–then maybe I’ll just have to do something about that,” Haechan continues on as if you hadn’t said a word, locking eyes with you and raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“…Maybe.” You answer after thinking about it, and Haechan grins triumphantly. “I’m gonna shower first, though. If I feel up to it when I’m all done, then…yeah. Starting tomorrow, though, no more fucking around—literally.” You say seriously, poking his chest with one finger, and he shrugs with a devilish little grin.

“No promises.” He’s turning and heading off to his room before you can even get a word in edgewise, causing you to huff in agitation and head off to your room to get ready for your shower, in which you contemplate whether or not you should go to Haechan’s room after you get out.

(You do, in fact, go to Haechan’s room. You also, in fact, decide to sit on his bed and watch as he plays some game on his computer. Maybe you space out a couple of times while he’s playing because you’re staring at his hands and the way his fingers move across the keyboard and the way his veins flex and tense under his skin, and maybe you don’t.

Maybe at one point, Haechan finds his eyes wandering over to you more often than not, and maybe, when he ultimately gets kicked from the game for being idle, he takes the opportunity to make good on his word and remind you of what it feels like to have his head between your legs.)

i hope you liked part one! part two is already written and will be up in exactly a week! again, if you enjoyed the fic, please consider tipping me here or here!

#haechan smut #lee haechan smut #nct smut #hyuck smut #donghyuck smut #lee donghyuck smut #OKAY UH. HI AGAIN Y'ALL

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obxsummer · 3 years

Text

By Your Side // John B Routledge

john b routledge x reader

warnings: physical violence, angst

part of #obx2celebration

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ask me anything

a/n: y'all please keep in mind this is fictional. i know the process of what happens in here would never happen in real life but that's the fun of it all :)

summary below the cut to avoid spoilers

summary: seeing your boyfriend in prison was never easy, but seeing him in the medical wing leads to a heart to heart in each other's arms.

The weight in your chest was getting heavier and heavier with each breath you took. It felt like you would never catch a break, never be able to breathe fully ever again. Ever since you and John B returned to the Outer Banks, it felt like it was one thing after another that just caused more and more trouble for the two of you. Nothing was worse than the look on his face when the cops finally cornered you and your friends. You had gripped John B’s hand as long as possible before he was torn from your grasp.

The whole day seemed like a blur then, but the soreness in your throat was still there from where you screamed at Shoupe and Deputy Thomas for how they handled John B. It was unforgivable, burned in your mind on repeat as you watched the scene over and over again with your heart cracking a little more each time. Regardless of the fact that your boyfriend was being arrested and charged for something he had nothing to do with, you couldn’t get over the fact that he was being shoved around and literally beaten by the people who were supposed to protect and help you. Needless to say, anytime you saw Shoupe or Deputy Thomas, your glare was enough to make them wish they hadn’t stepped foot in your path.

You were a mess without John B. Normally, the two of you were attached at the hip, but being without him was never this hard. The lingering thought in the back of your head kept reminding you that he wasn’t safe, he wasn’t home. Every minute he spent in prison was a minute you didn’t sleep because you were so worried.

Kie had done her best to try to console you. JJ had spewed crazy plans that only made you more upset because you knew none of them would work and John B wasn’t getting out unless you exposed Ward. Pope was silent, lurking in the shadows at the loss of his best friend. He clung to Kie in hopes that they would all figure something out soon enough.

The Chateau was nowhere near as comforting, even with all of your friends scattered across the house at every second of the day. You had visited John B each chance you had just to reassure yourself that he wasn’t gone completely. You would do anything to be in his arms, to hold him and just tell him everything would be okay.

Walking through the doors of the county jail, you moved without words to set all of your stuff on the counter that you couldn’t bring through. The lady behind the desk, Beth, was the only saving grace you had found in the chaos of this mess. She was the only one to treat you respectfully when it came to anything revolving John B. Although she never outwardly stated it, she believed your story, and that meant more to you than she would ever know.

“Hi, Y/N,” She greeted with a small smile. You returned the gesture and accepted the visitor lanyard she stretched out to you. Walking through the metal detector, you followed her back through the hallways. You had slowly gotten used to the cursing and yelling that followed your arrival. Beth was the Director of Visitor Safety throughout the building and in the short time you had known her, she had pulled many strings in regards to you and John B. Within the first two days, she had realized how uncomfortable it was for the two of you to sit and stare at each other with everyone listening. (And yes, she meant everyone because nobody could be in the presence of a “cop killer” and not be amazed).

Beth led you into her office with a smile and shut the door behind her as she left to grab John B. You were more than grateful for her help with everything. Had Beth not been there the day you walked in with tears streaming down your face from the anxiety and terrifying aura of the whole idea, you didn’t know what you would’ve done.

Glancing at the clock, you noticed more time had gone by than usual, and the sound of yelling that emerged had your heart sinking. You stood up, fingers twisting into the torn bandana fabric around your neck out of habit as you stared at the door in worry.

Beth appeared in the window a second later before opening the barrier and looking at you. “Come with me, hurry.” You followed her without another word, keeping close so you wouldn’t lose her. When she diverged off the normal path, you knew something was really wrong. She led you down a separate hallway, scanning her badge when necessary until big letters above the door told you this was the medical bay.

When you made it past the door frame, your eyes instantly landed on the bright orange jumpsuit that your boyfriend was clad in before noticing the expression of terror on his face as he sat on the bed. “John B!”

Wide brown eyes met your gaze in a split second before John B was shoving the nurse’s hands away to catch you the moment you collided with him. You could hear Shoupe, who had been standing nearby, let out what sounded like a sigh of relief before he mumbled something about filing a report and left the room.

“Are you okay? What the hell happened?” You asked John B once you leaned back, hands still grabbing his uniform as if he would disappear through your fingers.

“This is my daughter, Macy,” Beth introduced the nurse standing close by as she avoided your question. “We’re gonna hang over here for a second. If you guys need anything, let us know.”

The two of you gave Beth an appreciative nod as she stepped aside with her daughter. Turning back to your boyfriend, you caught the bruises covering his neck in the light. “JB…” Tears burned your eyes as your fingers glazed over the marks which made him wince. “What the fuck?”

Your boyfriend pulled you back into his chest, fingers running through your hair as he took a deep breath. Nothing was more calming to him than having you in his arms. Being able to actually hold you, feel your skin on his, was healing to him. “Doesn’t matter,” He mumbled against your hair as he recognized the comforting smell of your shampoo. “So glad you’re here.”

The small sob that escaped your throat didn’t surprise him much. John B wasn’t oblivious to what was going on to you without him around. It broke his heart that he couldn’t be there to talk you through it all. Most of the times you came to visit, you were constantly holding him in some way just to feel his skin on yours.

“What if something worse happens?” You choked out through shaking breaths. “John B, you’re not safe here. This isn’t fair. I’m not losing you in a prison of all places!”

“It’s gonna be fine,” He hummed as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’m gonna be fine, babe. We’re gonna figure it out.”

“I’m ripping Shoupe a new one,” You grumbled as you reluctantly let go of him to look at the bruises lining his skin. You let out a teary sigh before your boyfriend brushed the salty drops from your face. “I’m getting you out of here. I’m going home and I’m literally… I don’t know, I’ll find something, somehow. I’m not standing here and letting this happen.”

John B couldn’t keep the smile from forming on his face as he kissed you softly. “I don’t want you doing anything besides taking care of yourself, okay? Please. For me.”

You huffed but nodded regardless. “Whatever, JB.”

“I’m serious!” He argued as he placed his hands on your cheeks to get your attention. “Please. There’s no point in tearing yourself apart without me.”

“Fine, then tell me what happened.”

John B rolled his eyes and sat on the edge of the bed before grabbing your hips and situating you to stand between his legs. His fingers squeezed your sides before he spoke up, “I think your dad has someone on the inside, here, and he’s trying to get rid of me and make it look like an accident.”

You blinked for a moment as you processed before you nodded slightly in agreement. “I wouldn’t put it past him.” You struggled with the idea that this was all your father’s fault and the guilt in your chest was getting worse each second. “I’m sorry, JB.”

“It’s not your fault,” He comforted as he squeezed your hips again in reassurance. “Come on, babe. You know that. I would never blame you for any of this. We just gotta get some evidence to end it, okay?”

“Y/N.” Beth’s voice interrupted your thoughts as you looked up at her. “I’m sorry, honey. We gotta go.”

You nodded slowly, hands intertwining with John B’s as you pressed one last kiss to his forehead. “Promise me you’ll be careful?”

Your boyfriend smiled slightly. “You know careful’s not in my vocabulary.”

Flicking his cheek gently, you smiled as you stepped out of his grasp to follow Beth back out while Macy attended to your boyfriend. Your thoughts were running, but one thing you knew for certain. You would get John B out of prison if it was the last thing you did.

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mikimagines · 3 years

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within summer blooms. (which taunt you.)

nagito k. / fem ghost! reader.

tags: angst, no happy ending, right person wrong time, major character death, hurt no comfort (kinda).

writting is not checked: we die like ghost! reader.

(reader is the former ultimate gardener, yes…it’s important to the story.)

small inspirations from animes you might know! (or not.) ; tbhk (mitsuba/kou and…tsukasa) and madoka magica. …mostly tbhk.

this was requested by @adelia-chan ! ☆ thank you!

—

nagito always had horrible luck.

no matter where he went, it would end in ways that nobody has seen before. it was a shame to be unlucky, but with the ways of luck, things never change, not even for the victims of despair…

yet, trapped inside of hope’s peak academy was a strange yet non surprising way he got trapped. summer break was coming sooner than expected, so most students rush to do something to celebrate on their finale exams; college exams. leaving lesser students to do all of the cleaning, which nagito was one of them. . .

and when nagito was finishing up his duties it was only him left, and everyone always forgets about him so the school was left to close for the afternoon. it was stupidly his luck, that left him in this way and staying over night might get him in trouble, so finding a way to get out would be the most important.

and to his disappointment, every door was sealed shut. not even with any of his tricks it wouldn’t work. although he did remember when he did knock down a door accidentally, due to his luck. so the student council has to make all of the doors: “nagito-proof” it makes him a weridly thankful that they could name something out of something he did.

which during his entire rant, on how thankful he is to be part of such a delight indeed, a ghost, who was actually in the middle of going to her (old) garden saw the pale-haired boy infront of the door.

you weren’t really into the fact that he was rambling into something, you just had to make sure he was ok. yet, you forgot that people have known to be afraid of ghost…which you are.

“hey, are you ok?” you replied to the boys, thoughts of respect.

and yet, you were scared.

if he gets scared like the people, who you simply need to know if that they remember correctly that it was you, their friend.

…

and if they don’t, it wouldn’t end that much well for you. especially with the stupidly naive deal you made to see everyone again, family, friends. it was your only chance, so taking it would be a final way to say goodbye.

correct?

—

it was a silent pause into nagitos thoughts. it was extremely his bad luck knowing that he is stuck inside his school, know with a ghost who is in front of him, with concern in their eyes.

“hey…hey! are you ok? the more you stare at me the more my flowers are going to wilt!” you snarled at the boy, not knowing what to do.

it was only a few minutes anyways and he finally spoke even with all the questions his head.

seeing ghosts face to face are a thing that nobody has truly seen.

yet to him, he has seen one. not only is that “unlucky.” it is truly lucky. maybe he can learn more about death more. he’s not afraid of it, maybe.

you facepalm at the boy, currently you were going to get to your garden, and now your stuck with a person who isn’t even afraid of you.

he was just shocked. your smirked for a little, taking that way, since nagito has wasted 30 minutes of your time. it would be better to do the same, yes?

and to your shock as well, he agreed to you taking him to your “garden”, unlike any other average student, example: your very own friend, they think your “garden” is truly where you are going to drag them into the same fate as you.

so they leave…well run away from you, leaving you alone, once again. is this just your loneliness, maybe just a eternal curse you will have until you truly pass on.

and for nagito, he just…agrees like a lost puppy dog that wants to know everything about you. this is a rare time that nagito has now seen in his life. which was you, a finally seen not as a scary illusion from guilt. but as a new friend.

ah, you couldn’t think that much about him, it was only your first time seeing him, and you barely had any time.

being the anniversary of your death soon and soon enough the time you truly have to go, any finally rest for another life.

finally, you went to your small garden. it was blooming more than normal, as the suns blesses with its shine and “love.” it was a easy job. it was your garden obviously, a place full of memories, a place where you could be happy with everyone.

and with nagito with you and him listening to every word your saying, it gives you happy memories. the things you truly wanted to do one last time with everyone, wouldn’t it just be so great?

“hmm…are these roses?” nagito asked during your rambling while watering your bonsai.

you put down your watering can and got ready to ramble about the flowers and the meaning of them.

until you saw nagitos bleeding finger, and was getting on your precious daisy’s, which wasn’t exceptional to you as you scolded the laughing man like a mother.

time passed fastly after that, faster than you can imagine, also you promised to get him out of the school so he can get to his apartment before his classmates start a search party.

yes, even if the barely care for him. it was still needed. no matter what. you sighed, once more you took him to the opened door from a security’s guard (which you accidentally scared.)

and waved goodbye.

—

after that fateful afternoon it was a shock to see nagito stay a little more while at the school, most thought he was up to something big, while the class just took it off as him finally getting “a touch of grass” — hiyoko.

also you both actually introduced yourselves, although you were seemingly confused on how he’s the ultimate “luck” he didn’t seem that much lucky to you. and for you, introducing yourself as the (former) ultimate gardener was easy to figure out due to context clues.

it was slightly embarrassingly, only for you… yet nagito just clapped it off as you still being a symbol of hope.

ah, anyways…

—

it’s been about 2 weeks since the fateful day you meant with nagito. (and more importantly, the day you have to go soon.)

he was almost like a close friend, honestly. every time after-school he would come and visit you and your garden and even learned much about how plants have meanings.

yet, you were on the clock. you had been trying for months just to actually get your friends to remember you, yet it didn’t work. all you did was hurt your friends more and more with just being a ghost.

why?

because of guilt.

once someone goes, you can’t see them again, nor can’t say your true feelings or even be with them, not even a hug or a laugh.

they just, disappear. and so with you being a ghost, they think it’s their mind taunting them for not saying goodbye.

or the feeling of self guilt; like it’s their fault.

yet for nagito, he’s just so confusing never scared of anything and you know much about him even when he shows his true personality.

and yet, harm can come in many ways. horrible ways that you can’t say it. you can feel it. so why not just say your true feelings?

…

it’s that easy! right…?

—

exorcists are dangerous to ghosts.

they bring harm and fear to the ghosts and with no mercy in some ways. which brings terror and puts the ghost in ways that they are not ready to say goodbye yet;

or truly pass on,yet some are kind and want to help the ghosts. but flowers aren’t truly that perfect. no matter how kind they look.

take a example, roses. they look pretty, and yet so dangerous that it would harm the ones who dare to touch it.

it was actually the same with you and the ultimate exorcist. as she has had complaints about you in the past, an extremely confused ghost.

yet she gave you time to truly say goodbye to your friends, and of course you accepted the final days you can see everyone and try to talk to friends and family.

most would see this as a blessing, yet to your friends they truly thought you were just there to give them more grief to your death.

(they didn’t know it was truly you, so it gives them a point or two. but they are actually a little stupid..so take off a point.)

and that stupid exorcist, she knows. she knew that you were going to fail anyways and is a entire master at gaslighting you.

and today, you weren’t going to fail. one more time, just one more time!

but you failed.

again, and again.

no matter how hard or how kind you look. it never works. even when nagito tries to calm you down and even tried to talk to them, they would just find him even more scary to the experiences of seeing you.

and today.

the final day you can try to talk to them.

you failed.

you…failed.

like shattered glass, it was giving you more despair, and it gets more shattered everytime until the sunlight, the memories taunt you.

the car crash, the everything.

why…how.

it was just all over your mind, no one was their to be with you anymore, since nagito went home for the day, which will be the last day he will truly see you.

…

why?

I’ll recommend asking the exorcist.

—

note: this will be a little, uncomfortable(?) and it’s not that important to the story at least. so if it does, please skip.

it was truly a painful experience.

you couldn’t do anything about it, because she was just too fast.

all you could do was scream for no one, the exorcist had you by the heart. it was unavoidable. you couldn’t say your true feelings yet, you couldn’t say anything.

maybe, if you weren’t such a idiot and went to the flower shop that day. maybe this wouldn’t happened. maybe, you could of confessed your true feelings to nagito.

but it was way to late, way to late. like the day another person confessed to your crush the day you were going to confess and they accept the other persons confession.

they have a life together, and all you can do was sit back to watch, you could never have a happy life or do regular teenagers things anymore.

you were a ghost, after all. so maybe, it should be your turn to go. forever.

those were the words that came out of your head and the exorcists mouth while taunting you.

and yet,, soon enough.

you were finally going to rest. (not) peacefully.

the exorcist smirked at the work she has done, and left. hopefully you can finally rest.

it was only fate.

after all.

a fate, you can truly. never change, which will taunt you all the way to your final grave.

—

nagito was worried, he hasn’t seen you in a while. not in the garden or the koi pond. you just, left.

he thought for a second: we’re you truly sick of him? I mean, he does ramble a lot and he does say a lot of stupid things.

but you always listened, so why would you leave? he had so many questions that had to be answered. maybe it was his luck? or maybe just him? he has no clue.

his top priority is to find you, I mean who else is going to show him your garden and ramble about all of the flowers you have and their meaning.

he had to figure out quickly, although. maybe your old friends or maybe that exorcist you were scared of said has something to say.

he was just truly, worried. so he had to figure out, quickly. in the name of hope! (and flowers.)

—

one by one, your friends talked about you, how you were just, a sweetheart. even if you were so tough with them. you had your ways of making friends especially in that one garden you had.

the way you died was…messy to say the least, from nagitos research of you most of your friends looked near to crying.

it was a painful way to go, any you were just looking for something so innocent.

roses.

from the garden shop. but to your horrible luck, you got ran over badly by a speeding cars. (nearby people even said you looked both ways.)

and your death was something that they couldn’t change at all. it still gives them pain to that day, especially because you had a closed casket…

after the entire exchange was over, they were pretty worried out on how some random guy from a nearby class asked them such random questions.

yet nagito moved on. to that ultimate exorcist.

—

it was a small yet big talk for him, not only because the exorcist just said that they killed you, the exorcist just treated it like a simple case of a average ghost.

I would say it pissed him off, but he’s always just so calm, putting his true personality would lead to things like him being put out of school (again.)

but for you, you were truly just gone.

not a person nor a ghost.

just a concept they never existed. like, never existed, only the things you loved and liked were still their.

you truly just disappeared, you couldn’t even say anything yet for him, not even he could say anything for you as well.

—

all he can do is just stare at that one bonsai tree you have to him, it was actually your “confession” he was just too confused.

and once again, I think he would just feel deep, sadness. not that he could see you or hear you talk about plants and koi fish again.

but that you couldn’t say your true feelings.

—

nagito always has bad luck. it was something, he couldn’t stop and once again.

he has lost someone important again.

—

extra:

you gave nagito a small bonsai tree, it was truly your favorite in the entire world. you always had it with you and was your first priority. but, you gave it to nagito, it always gave you good luck when you were alive.

maybe it will give good luck to him, he deserves it more than you.

he did ask why it has roses with it.

you just laughed at him, maybe it could be something like to remember you by. if you ever go. of course.

—

authors note:

I apologize for things like not being accurate to the nagito’s character or maybe it being too boring??? I mean this took me about a hour or two.

you guys own me a reroll account/hj

- mod mikan.

#danganronpa imagines #danganronpa imagine #danganrompa angst #nagito imagines #nagito komeada x reader #nagito komaeda #nagito x reader #danganronpa #danganronpa headcanons #danganronpa 2 #nagito komaeda angst #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa 2 x reader #goodbye despair #danganronpa goodbye despair

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tickledpink31 · 2 years

Text

Epics of Ink & Light Chapter 12: The Strange Case of the Nezumis

Summary: In which the Nezumis enter the scene.

Notes: One of the Nezumi siblings, Alexis is AMAB gender-fluid, but identifies as a girl for this chapter and will be referred to as she/her.

Just a heads-up, this chapter will contain several POV switches. It might give you a bit of whiplash.

When you see an asterisk (*), there will information about a topic that appears within the story and will be explained in the author’s notes at the end of the chapter.

My Instagram Read on Ao3 Read on Wattpad

◐ ━━━━━ ºoº Crewel ºoº ━━━━━ ◑

“Good, everyone is here. Let’s begin.” Dire tapped the stack of papers against the table. He was underdressed than usual today having left his coat and top hat to hang on the coat rack. The mask still remained on his face, though.

I swear that thing is glued to his skin, thought Divus.

When Dire meant that everyone was here in the meeting room, he only meant a portion of the faculty; that is, the Dean’s most trusted allies in the school with Anais being the only extra permitted to attend. They were the higher-ups of the staff, the big dogs of the entire establishment.

There was Sam LeFacile, the eccentric shopkeeper of the campus. He was casually leaning back in his seat as he deftly twirled a pencil in his hands. To the surprise of absolutely no one, he was among the first to discover Ms. Nezumi’s family curse through his “friends” that hide among the shadows.

Mozus Trein sat in the chair next to Sam with Lucius on his lap. Divus was almost sure that pets were not allowed in the staff room, but not even the Headmaster was saying anything. Minako had him for history class and was reportedly among the few students that did not nod off at the way he drones during his lectures. (A miracle really, which is why Divus made sure to add a bit of terror— ah sorry, excitement in his classroom environment.)

Sitting to the left of Divus’ seat was Ashton Vargas, the P.E. teacher. It was astonishing to find out that Minako did very well in his class almost as much as the rugged lot from Savanaclaw, but could you blame anyone for thinking that? One would have thought that he would go easier on her when Minako was just so tiny and had a condition that made her frail, but perhaps Vargas lacked discrimination on who gets brutal training in his classes.

Last but not least, was Dr. Anais Radcliffe. It was a well-known fact that she was younger than Divus by three years and yet, many people would say that she was more suited to be the older sibling. A ridiculous notion really, but Divus will admit that she had always been mature and motherly even when she was just a child. Her intelligence combined with her big heart made her one of the most esteemed doctors on the Sage’s Island. If she were still residing in the Queendom of Roses, she might even be able to boot Dr. Rosehearts from her spot as the best doctor in the nation.

After Dire recounted the chaotic events of the past two weeks, nobody in the room looked too happy that Dire had been keeping quiet about Minako’s family curse ever since her arrival.

“Firstly, how dare you not tell the rest of us about this?” Trein clicked his tongue and Lucius mimicked his scowl. “She could have been a danger to us all. Are you so blinded by your greed when you saw an opportunity for free labour that you forgot to think with your head?”

“I wasn’t made aware of just how destructive her magic can be when her blood curse is triggered. The most I have seen is that it harms Ms. Nezumi more than it hurts others,” Dire defended.

“I wouldn’t blame her for not going into details about her condition. For the safety and reputation of the school, Ms. Nezumi would have been likely booted out of the campus had she said anything that brings up concern,” said Divus.

“Me? Kick her out? I would never! I’m far too kind to do such a thing,” Dire spluttered and squawked.

Divus ignored him in favour of talking Trein down. “You have daughters, don’t you? How would you feel if they were in this kind of predicament?”

“Divus!” Anais scolded him.

“Don’t.” Mozus’ stoic expression hardly changed, but his tone took on a dangerous edge as he spoke. “Don’t bring my family into this.” Lucius hissed to back him up. “And what do you know about taking care of children? You don’t have any of your own, and you’re hardly father material.”

Divus pressed his lips into a thin line in irritation. It wasn’t like he thought of Minako as a daughter. He just didn’t need to see someone else fully succumb to the effects of blot when his mother had already…

“Settle down! There’s no need to fight,” the Headmaster chided them. He turned his attention to Anais. “Dr. Radcliffe, do you have the notes from your interviews with Ms. Nezumi?”

Anais flipped open her dalmatian-patterned notebook to her most recent entries that she had documented in the past few days. “Minako Nenita del Rosario Nezumi, age sixteen, born on March 18th 200X. As she has told me, her home is in a country called England. Before her accidental arrival in Twisted Wonderland, she attended a magical school called Hogwarts.”

Divus inwardly snorted upon hearing the name, wondering who had the bright idea to name a supposedly esteemed school “Hogwarts.” He can’t wait to hear about its history.

“Ms. Nezumi resides with her three older siblings and her sister-in-law, all of whom are magical and do not show any symptoms of the family curse. Her late parents are both magicless, so they cannot inherit the curse themselves. With the recent revelations that Ms. Nezumi might be a descendent of the Moseley clan—”

“I knew it!” Sam triumphantly pumps his fist.

“Ahem!” Anais quickly pulled the attention back to her. “With the likelihood that Ms. Nezumi comes from the Moseley bloodline, it is possible that she may have inherited qualities of her world’s magic system and Twisted Wonderland’s magic while her siblings did not. Her lineage has been in the other world for so long that I imagine that this world’s magic must have been diluted over the years.”

“My friends and I could help confirm the family ties. Free of charge, of course,” Sam offered.

“Um… I’ll think about it,” Anais politely replied, suppressing a grimace that only Divus caught. She wasn’t too fond of the dark arts that Sam dabbled in, but the shopkeeper was plenty competent to not try anything dangerous if it was something as trivial as figuring out someone’s ancestry.

The topic made Divus wonder just how many of Minako’s ancestors fell victim to the curse. Was it even more severe than what she has now?

Anais flipped over to the next page. “According to the records that they have found from their ancestors, the curse came from her father’s side of the family. There was at least one victim in each generation before their family’s magic died off then reawakened twenty-six years ago. The victims all began to show symptoms by the time they reached their preteen years, and that brings up my theory that puberty might have a hand in activating the curse.”

“TMI, Radcliffe,” Ashton snorted.

Mozus sent him a look of disappointment. “Grow up.”

“What makes you believe in that theory, Doctor?” Dire asked, ignoring the two.

“To put it simply, the curse and an accumulation of blot are both tied to negative emotions and mental distress.” Anais adjusted her glasses and squinted her eyes at the page. “Puberty causes intense emotions and mood swings in children. Ms. Nezumi has told me about how she would rapidly shift from one feeling to another when she was eleven. It caused her accidental magic to act up and make her ill even when she was at an age where she should have it all under control. But until we know about how her ancestors were like when they got the curse, my theory still remains a theory.”

“Surely with the severity of the curse, Nezumi wouldn’t have the ability to roam around the school as if nothing was wrong,” Mozus pointed out.

“Definitely not. At least not for more than a few days,” said Anais, nose deep in her notes. “She often takes a medicinal potion and her dimension’s light spells does the bare minimum to ward off negativity. Though most recently during Mr. Rosehearts’ overblot, she was able to unlock her ability to cast a powerful charm called the Patronus charm that completely cleared the blot excess in a matter of seconds. However, it was a slow and hard process for her to finally master it.”

Seven knew that Minako was a sensitive child. She may not show it outwardly sometimes, but Divus could see the curse marks creeping on her neck if she got frustrated with a question or formula.

Ashton scratched his head. “Wait, I don’t get it. How do light spells work against blot?”

“Her world’s magic system seems to have a strong reliance on the dichotomy between light and darkness.” Anais placed her notebook down on the table, wide open at a spread where Minako’s hauntingly detailed sketches of two dark wraiths. She pointed to the cloaked, bony wraith that was fully inked with the darkest shade of black. “This is what Minako calls a Dementor. They are creatures of despair, and they suck out your souls should you fall victim to its kiss.” She pointed to the other illustrated creature, which looked really nothing more than a rippling black cape compared to its more skeletal cousin, but it was somehow just as foul. “And this is a Lethifold. It’s more of a beast rather than a ghoul considering that it preys on human bodies rather than souls.”

Everyone but Sam paled at the explanation of the kind of monsters that this other dimension had to deal with. Sam looked more invested in this meeting than he ever did with any other meeting they have had before. He leaned in closer to hear the juiciest details.

Anais continued, “Unlike our own magic, the light spells from Ms. Nezumi’s world has been used to repel spectral foes, and Dementors can be classified as ghosts themselves. Lethifolds may not be ghosts themselves, but they’re related anyway. A more difficult but powerful light charm is needed to fend these monsters off, which is, as you know, the Patronus charm.”

“And blot monsters are practically phantoms themselves!” Sam, ever the ghost expert, added enthusiastically.

“Exactly!”

Divus has heard the story about how the curse went from bad to worse before. He can’t imagine how hard it must have been for Minako. A twelve-year-old girl wallowing in her misery after losing her parents then waking up with a Dementor above her head that she had unconsciously created. Had her siblings not been sleeping next to her… well, Divus didn’t really know what would have happened.

“I knew that there was a fighter in that girl!” Vargas threw his head back, letting out a short and hearty laugh. “If that kid can take down a blot monster, that’s some insane unique magic.”

“No, it’s not her unique magic. There are other people who can cast it too,” Anais corrected him.

Crowley merely beamed. “I like to think of Ms. Nezumi as actually a blessing in disguise rather than a curse. Of all the places that she just happened to end up in, it was at our school. Imagine the kind of awards we’d be afforded now that we have an instant cure for blot.”

“Absolutely not!” Everyone jumped up from their seats in protest. That greedy fucking corvid! He was planning to make Minako his pawn.

“Giving her public attention will do more harm than good. Don’t forget that she’s as fragile as a bomb.” Divus jabbed a finger against the Headmaster’s chest, gritting his teeth as he seethed. He managed to back Dire into his seat, his shoulders tense with fright.

“And remember how malicious the media can be.” Anais’ voice was dangerously low. She had always been Divus’ patient half to a saint-like degree, but not at the moment. “If the word about the curse gets out Ms. Nezumi will be vilified. The stress it would put her through could be catastrophic.”

“And the reputation of your precious school will fall into ruins,” Crewel put in with a hiss, knowing that anything tarnishing the image of NRC would definitely touch a nerve in his boss.

“Dire, I never expected this new low, even from you,” Mozus sighed with an aggrieved shake of his head.

Dire audibly gulped down a lump in his throat. Clearly, he hasn’t thought about the consequences.

“W-well, there goes that plan.” Dire’s clawed hands collected a piece of paper with notes written on it, crumpled it up, and threw it into a rubbish bin behind him.

Grumbles and sighs of disapproval went around the room. Leave it to their incompetent headmaster to sour the mood.

“In any case,” Anais switched the topics, “I think we should provide as much support as we can for both Ms. Nezumi’s sake and ours. Be as gentle as you can and do not give her more stress than she can handle.”

Divus swivelled his chair to talk to Sam. “You will give her a job, right?” It was more of a demand rather than a question. Minako had been wanting to find another source of income other than Dire’s meagre allowance.

“I will. I’ll be able to keep an eye on her then.” Sam smiled reassuringly.

The teachers might have to go easy on course work too. Thankfully enough, the faculty did not have the misfortune of dealing with a cursed student who was a slacker. Every professor who had the pleasure of teaching Minako had unanimously agreed that she was a well-rounded student with only the rare negative comment about her poor choice in friends. Unfortunately, Minako’s diligence had its way of turning against her when work reduces her into an anxious, burnt-out mess.

“What that little fawn needs is a good workout to clear her head!” Ashton loudly announced, not so subtly flexing his biceps.

“It’s not a bad idea. Minako is an athlete,” Anais mused.

“Give her access to the brooms. She finds flying relaxing,” Divus added.

From the corner of his eye, Divus caught how Mozus brows shot up to his hairline. The rest of his expression looked as stale as ever, but Divus sensed a smirk behind that face.

“You seem to know a lot about Ms. Nezumi. I expected you to only do the bare minimum for her aside from calling in your sister, but I guess I might have to take back what I said earlier.” There was a hint of amusement in Mozus’ tone.

Divus couldn’t help but find that statement a tad snarky. How he wanted to scowl at that old fart, but he resorted to only narrowing his eyes to save face. “And what is that supposed to mean, old man?”

Once again, Anais had to interrupt to get them all back on track. “Let’s talk about the Hidden Mickeys and the ghost camera next.”

The rest of the meeting went by in a blur, making agreements on whatever they can do to reduce the amount of flare-ups and accidents. How Minako was able to see Mr. Rosehearts’ childhood memories through her family symbol would be discussed at a later date when everyone else was stumped about what it could mean right now. As everyone shuffled out of the room, Sam suddenly held Divus back by the shoulder.

“Hey, Div. Are you doing okay?” Sam looked concerned.

“I’m fine,” Divus replied plainly.

Sam didn’t look convinced. “You and Ann are doing your best. That little imp’s lucky to have you looking out for her.”

It was clear that Sam was dancing around the overblot of Baroness Crewel, also known as mother dearest. That event was an infamous story in not only the Queendom of Roses but all over the world as well. That shameful and tragic stain on their family pushed Divus to spend the next several years building back up the pride of the Crewel clan.

He felt as if he owed it to his mother to help her legacy live on. Many have told him that his mother’s demise was neither his nor Anais’ fault, and yet a part of him said that he could have comforted his mother in her time of need.

“You think so? Has she said anything about us?” For the first time in years, Divus felt unsure of himself. His talents and his connections seemed to have nothing against the Nezumi malediction. He was back to his twelve-year old self that helplessly watched his mother drown in ink.

“You didn’t hear this from me, but she’s been asking around about what kind of sweets you liked.” Sam grinned.

Raisin butter biscuits, Divus thought fondly as he resisted the urge to smile. Those biscuits that reminded him of the spots on his dalmatians.

“I’ll try to pretend to be surprised if she gives me a gift,” Divus said, making a turn down the hall with Sam.

He made up his mind: Divus swore to find a cure sooner or later. He won’t let Minako succumb to the curse when she was still so young and so scared.

◐ ━━━━━ ºoº Flor ºoº ━━━━━ ◑

For a vintage magical tool, this contacting pendant* was far more advanced than what the Wizarding community had to offer these days. It was almost unfair to know how advanced the technology was in that other realm that Ambrose called Twisted Wonderland. Even with the recent advancements in this world, many wizards and witches alike had their feet firmly planted to the ground when it came to their traditions. A bit of a detrimental move for the magical community really.

“Nothing from her yet?” Her lovely wife, Fiona, gave her a comforting smile as they walked home. Her presence alone was enough to make a rainy, autumn day brighter.

“Nothing.” Flor added nothing more, not wanting to spoil the mood.

Perhaps the necklace’s antique quality could explain why Minako had yet to reach them through her hand mirror.* There was no way she would ever neglect to call them for weeks. When she was still at Hogwarts, Minako was punctual about sending letters to home every weekend even when she was at her busiest. The connection being as shitty as a low-grade Wi-Fi service was the only way Flor could rationalize the lack of contact.

Call her paranoid, but the second Minako disappeared through the magic mirror with Headmaster Ambrose, Flor swore that she felt a cord snap within her. A connection was severed. It was the instant that Flor realized that her sister was now far off somewhere where she couldn’t reach without the mirror to the point that all traces of her magic left with her. Even the Ministry would not be able to track her down now that she was in another world. It left a hollowness in her chest that she hadn’t felt in a long time, and she was sure that the rest of the family felt it too.

The night after their parents died, Flor swore that she wouldn’t lose another loved one so soon. But how can you keep such a promise when somebody’s doom seemed inevitable?

Minako, for all her faults, did not deserve to suffer the burden of a hereditary malediction. Being the prime inheritor of this generation, her frustrations had a knack for getting the better of her, but at least she had the awareness and consideration to not upset others when she was in a bad mood. She had a rash sense of justice for someone who was sorted into Slytherin, and yet her courage to not stand by was admirable. Intelligent, responsible, and talented; Flor could go on.

What a cruel twist of the heavens to let horrible things happen to the best people.

Last summer was supposed to be fun for Minako. She was looking forward to that vacation with her friends in Romania and its dragon sanctuary. However, Minako’s little “accident” at Hogsmeade prompted the authorities to hound at their door and barred her from leaving the country’s borders. They made everything far worse than it needed to be. If it weren’t for Minister Granger’s interference, Flor was sure that her sister would have been unjustly incarcerated.

Hermione Granger, for all her competency in leading their country’s Wizarding community, could only stretch her power so thin until she was deemed unfit to be the minister then sacked from her job. Which is why Flor had no choice but to send Minako away to salvage both her family and Granger’s career. It was a fair agreement that finally got most of the harassment to subside, although the Nezumis would be kept under surveillance as long as they were within the magical areas of the British Isles.

Speaking of which… Flor reflexively turned her head over her shoulder for the umpteenth time during their walk and tightened her arm around Fiona. She had developed the habit of doing that since the Hogsmeade incident along with the rest of her siblings. They were already far off from the Ministry after leaving their Apparition point, but after that one incident where Alexis was almost followed home, it was safe to assume that someone would try it again. Fortunately, Alexis quickly caught on that somebody was pursuing her and was smart enough to flee to the police station nearby. Unfortunately, it was an event that left her hysterical and too afraid to go home by herself for a few weeks.

It got to a point where they started warding their home to a degree that could compete with Hogwarts’ level of security. Anti-Apparition charms surrounded the grounds of the Nezumi Residence. One can Apparate within the confines of the house or Apparate from inside to outside, but nobody can Apparate from outside to get inside. However, this added the extra effort of having to walk from a secret Apparition point to home so that they don’t end up breaking the Statue of Secrecy. They did the same thing with the Floo Network too by barring the way in through their fireplace in case of trespassers but still making it possible to transport from their house to elsewhere.

“There’s nobody there,” Fiona reassured her.

“Right.” They were already at Grimmauld Place, and Flor can’t risk having a stalker know their address. Feeling safe enough that nobody was following them, they climbed up the steps of their house and Flor turned the key into the lock.

Inside, they were greeted by the Victorian era decor of their humble abode. Their late paternal grandmother, the previous owner of this house, had put all of her love and care into keeping this place in tip-top shape. The intricate wooden structures still maintained its glossiness over the years, and there wasn’t a single stain on the vintage tiling complete with a few much-needed touches of modern updates. It still creaked and settled as houses do when they were nearly a century and a half old, but they were still the envy of the neighbours. Even if it was a home located at a mildly unpopular street, this house was practically ripe for selling after she left the will to the family, but the destruction of their old house and the death of their parents pushed the Nezumis to move here instead.

While Obachan’s house was arguably the nicest in Grimmauld, Minako wasn’t too keen on the idea of moving here in the first place. There was a reason why this street was called “grim old place,” and Minako seemed to be the most sensitive to whatever was lurking here. It wasn’t really a street riddled with crime, and it was relatively safe. It was just a matter of atmosphere that made house buyers reluctant to stay here. Just by comparing the gloominess of Grimmauld Place to the other shiny suburban neighbourhoods of London, it was easy to see why houses were seldom sold on this street. This was why they never had sleepovers at grandma’s house and why their visits were usually brief. Not to mention that they now lived in 11 Grimmauld Place right next to the elusive House of Black. It was ironic how Minako used to constantly fear Grimmauld Place, and now she saw it as a sanctuary to Flor’s knowledge at least.

Flor stretched and hung her coat up on a free hook. She could feel the pockets of air popping on her back. “God, I’m knackered. Want some coffee, love?”

“With some lotus biscuits, please,” Fiona gratefully accepted. “Let’s just get some takeaway* tonight. Does fish and chips sound good?”

Flor suddenly stopped in her tracks when she felt the tiny hairs on her arms bristle. She would have brushed it off as some sort of fluke, but then came the dull thud of Fiona’s Wellington boot* when it dropped from her hand and her going into “auror mode” by taking a defensive stance. An unfamiliar draft of a stranger’s magic rushed through their senses. Someone was inside their house.

“Accio bat,” Flor commanded as a cricket bat flew to her hand. Her mind tried to pinpoint where the stranger was.

The tip of Fiona’s wand took on a red glow as she placed herself in front of Flor. “It’s coming from Minako’s room.”

Flor’s stomach dropped. They probably wanted evidence against the family. Wrong move, mate. You won’t find anything useful there.

With Fiona being the auror of the family, she was the one who decided to take the lead on their ambush. They crept up the stairs in their socks, being careful to not step on the spots where the wood would groan. Once they made it under the attic’s entrance where Minako’s room was, Flor was bewildered to hear what sounded like a hurricane going around upstairs and muffled cries of a grown man. A not-so-silent intruder as it turned out.

“What in Merlin’s name?” Did he get caught in one of Minako’s traps? Well, he probably deserved it.

Fiona pulled the string down and as Flor suspected, they were met with gusts of wind and cries for help. The wind actually felt more like a vacuum about to suck them inside the attic. Flor found herself gripping onto Fiona’s arm while her wife clutched the ladder that was hanging from the attic door.

“Somebody, please help me!”

Wait, I know that voice.

“Ambrose, is that you?” Flor shouted from below, the sound of the wind nearly drowning out her voice.

“It is! The mirror won’t let me through!” Ambrose’s aging voice grunted in his grapple with whatever force was causing the wind.

“I’m going up there. Stay here until I give you a signal,” Fiona ordered her as she quickly unfolded the ladder, climbed up the steps, and disappeared into Minako’s room.

“Be careful!” Flor knew better than to argue with her wife about these kinds of things. While she was a well-seasoned dueller herself, Fiona’s combat skills and resourcefulness were more superior due to her profession. She would only slow Fiona down.

From the sounds of their struggle, it seemed that Fiona was getting nowhere in helping Ambrose get out of his predicament. And just as expected, Fiona was quick to call for backup.

“Flor, help us!”

Now it was Flor’s cue to go up. The magic mirror’s vacuum was perfectly capable of bringing her inside the attic faster while going up the ladder, but she wasn’t about to let it pull her too far. Once she made it inside, her hands found nothing to hold on to except for Fiona’s waist.

Flor gaped at the sight. Lo and behold, Headmaster Ambrose was stuck waist-deep in the magic mirror and panic-stricken by how strong the pull was. With both hands, Fiona tightened her hold on his wrinkly arms and the sleeves of his robes. The suction was so strong that it capsized the large vanity, slowly being dragged towards the mirror. The beddings on the alcove bed were askew and the curtains along with its rod looked close to being torn of the wall. It was a good thing that Minako had cleared her shelves and her vanity; otherwise, her belongings would have gone missing, or her room would be more of a mess than it already was.

Flor shook off the initial thought, knowing that just standing aside would do nothing to help. With all of her might, she firmly planted her feet on the floor and gave Fiona and Ambrose a good yank. She wasn’t sure how much that did, but she was sure that she managed to do something. She hauled them in again, her knuckles turning white. And again. Flor’s throat rumbled when she let out a strained grunt. She hastily blew away a loose strand of dark brown hair that stuck to her damp forehead.

They eventually had gotten far enough that Ambrose’s feet were still left inside the glass. They gave him one more tug and the Headmaster’s feet came out with a loud pop. And then the force of the mirror’s pull came to an abrupt halt.

Flor landed on the hardwood floor, the impact knocking the wind out of her for a moment. Fiona was able to catch herself with one palm flat on the floor that lessened the blow after being toppled over. Her other hand currently still had a hold on Ambrose. The Headmaster landed flat on his belly with a wheeze that made both women flinch, and given how old he was, they were afraid that he might have been seriously injured from the scuffle with a mirror.

“Headmaster?” Fiona gently nudged his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

He lives. Ambrose groaned and sat himself on the floor. “Ah, my hip.” He stretched his torso, sighing once an audible crack of his joints was heard.

“Ambrose, what the hell just happened?” Flor’s head frantically whipped back and forth from the Headmaster to the mirror.

Fiona shushed her and helped the old man up to his feet.

“I apologize for the intrusion and for the mess.” Ambrose sighed dejectedly as he fixed his glasses. “I also regret to inform you about some bad news I bear.”

Almost immediately, Flor felt her stomach churn and her heart sink. She wanted to vomit. She knew it was a bad idea to send Minako away!

“No, don’t tell me… She’s…” Flor’s legs turned to jelly as her head felt light.

“Oi, don’t jump to conclusions. He hasn’t said anything about Minako being dead.” Grabbing Flor by the shoulders, Fiona was quick to steer her to Minako’s swivel chair to take a seat.

“That’s right! I don’t know if she’s alive myself,” Ambrose suddenly blurted out.

“What?” Flor’s voice lowered with a growl, curling her fingers inwards that were resting on the arms of the chair. Her nails that scraped the faux leather dug so deep that they left white track marks and were dangerously close to ripping the material open. “What do you mean ‘you don’t know if she’s alive?’”

“Flor—”

“That’s Mrs. Nezumi to you,” Flor replied coldly.

When they first met, a little after the beginning of last summer vacation, Ambrose went from calling her Flordeliza before he eventually started referring to her as Flor. Mrs. Nezumi, while far too formal for her tastes, was a perfectly fitting name to call her at times like these.

“Send her to RSA,” he said! “She’ll be safer there,” he said! Not even a month went by and something already went horribly wrong. If Flor had the curse herself, she would be oozing with ink from her mouth and her skin would be corrupted.

“Please, let me explain everything,” the old man pleaded. Regret filled his eyes.

Flor straightened her posture, a scowl still marring her face. “I’m listening.”

This was turning out to be a disastrous year for the family.

◐ ━━━━━ ºoº Minako ºoº ━━━━━ ◑

Minako won’t be missing the smell of rubbing alcohol in the private infirmary. Her dorm was finally fixed to the best living conditions that it could be thanks to Crewel, and she was excited to see how it looked. She had been treated with the utmost kindness than what she had expected from a supposed villains’ school, but that only applied to Heartslabyul and a portion of the faculty. It was a welcome change of attitude after how difficult her time in Twisted Wonderland had been.

And speaking of kindness, maybe some people were a bit too kind.

“Okay, I’m pretty sure Heartslabyul only sent one gift basket that was from all of us. Where did all of these come from?” Ace scratched his head as he looked at the expanse of the private infirmary. The seats and a portion of the floor were occupied with various baskets decorated in gold and scarlet.

“The rest are from Kalim. He kept sending a gift basket every day until Jamil had to stop him,” Minako said. She sure hoped that Kalim was rich enough to not go broke.

“I swear that boy…” Riddle pinched his brow. “He shouldn’t be throwing around his money so carelessly.”

Cater’s eyes gleamed as he rummaged through one gift basket with folded towels shaped into an elephant as the centrepiece. Various expensive-looking shampoos, bubble bath soaps, and lotions were neatly organized together like pieces of a puzzle. “Ooh, bath bombs!”

“Cater, those gifts aren’t for you,” Riddle scolded him.

“You’re welcome to take the bath bombs. Just leave the pink one for me,” Minako offered.

“And don’t take the food. That’s ours,” Grim added.

Cater pouted playfully. “But the pink one is the best one.”

“Cater,” Riddle warned him.

“I’m kidding!”

Including the gift basket from Heartslabyul, Minako received five gift baskets in total. At least she didn’t have a lot of luggage to move back in her dorm. That was the plus side of getting transported into another world with only the clothes on her back and her wand. Wingardium Leviosa may be one of the most basic charms of the first year in Hogwarts, but it takes practice to focus on more than one as well as prolonging the effects of the spell. She’ll just have to ask for some help to bring all of these to Mugglesworth.

A Heartslabyul student with white rabbit ears seemingly popped out of nowhere and screeched to a halt at the infirmary’s door. “Minako…” A deep breath and a wheeze. “I’ll carry… those for you.”

“Peter, what’s the rush?” Trey asked the rabbit beastman.

“Well, you know him. Peter thinks he’s always late for something,” Ace grumbled and crossed his arms.

“I’d like to help too.” A mouse beastman sleepily poked his head in the door with his hand raised.

I guess I don’t need to ask after all. They were already offering.

Deuce sighed. “There’s only five baskets. We already have enough people to help.”

Minako wasn’t sure why the Heartslabyul students were still trying to get in her good graces. The overblot happened a week ago, and she thought that that would have been old news by now. Oh well, at least taking everything to the dorm would only take one trip.

As they walked from the palace to Mugglesworth, the wind blew the loose strands of her hair against her face. Minako spat when a few stuck to her lips. Looking up, she could see that the trees were gradually becoming brown and brittle on the edges. Her blazer now seemed too thin to keep her warm. The first notes of autumn were here.

Next would be winter. Minako’s hand instinctively reached for her neck, about to adjust a Hogwarts scarf that wasn’t there. Her hand fell dejectedly to her side upon realizing that.

“Autumn is nigh,” Crowley had said to her almost a month ago when he first led her to the former ramshackle of a dorm.

“Autumn is fast approaching,” came Trey’s comment about her pumpkin pasties.

Unlike the other dorms, Mugglesworth didn’t have the benefit of being in an environment that was at a consistent state of a nice spring day (or whatever season the other dorms decided to live in). Mugglesworth was just a part of the campus and not really a pocket dimension that can safely keep any seasonal spells from spreading too far to provide protection from the elements. Hopefully, the new renovations would not disappoint in aiding with that. She did need a coat though lest she freeze once winter hits her like a truck.

Minako beamed at the brand-new banner with the name of her dorm and mouse symbol hanging on a tree. From afar, she could see that the windows were no longer barred with planks of wood, and the tiles were not chipping away. She found Crewel and Radcliffe waiting just outside the dorm as she walked closer to the building. As soon as Crewel spotted them, he raised a sleek brow at the gifts that Minako and the Heartslabyul students had in tow.

“What’s all this?” Crewel gestured to the baskets.

“Kalim kept sending me presents while I was recovering.” Minako smiled dazzlingly, and in response, Crewel pinched his brow, mimicking Riddle’s reaction.

“You know Mr. Asim, Ms. Nezumi?” Radcliffe asked.

“I’ve had lunch with him a couple of times.” Minako decided that nobody needed to know about the fiery incident at the ceremony. She briefly wondered why the “Al-” part of Kalim’s surname was left out.

“Why are we still standing here? Are we going to see our new dorm or what?” Grim hopped on his hind paws impatiently.

“Calm down. You’ll see it in a second.” Crewel dug into his pocket then handed Minako a ring of identical keys. He stepped aside to give her access to the double doors. “Well, shall we?”

Minako couldn’t hold back her gasp as she stepped through the doors. Everything was just so clean! No more splintered or missing pieces of the floorboards, the wallpaper was no longer sagging, the groaning of the wood could not be heard. The colours were made up of muted, earthy tones. Nothing flashy or bright, just a soft and pleasant palette. The blue-and-white striped couches made a nice contrast to the juniper green walls. She could see that the designers made use of the paintings hidden away in the storage room, choosing to hang them up on the dead spaces.

“Professor, Doctor, I don’t know if I can thank you enough for this.” Minako could only think about how meagre her homemade biscuits were as a “Thank You” gift.

Radcliffe chuckled. “A simple thank you will do. Would you like to see your bedroom?”

“Yes, please.”

Their chambers had not one but two twin beds this time. Funnily enough, it looked like a married couple’s bedroom in an old sitcom where the husband and wife would sleep in separate beds. It matched the vintage style of the dorm. Grim happily squealed as he threw himself on the bed that was the farthest from the window, claiming ownership of it. He stretched and yawned, curling himself into a ball to nap.

“Asleep already?” Crewel shook his head.

“At least we know it’s comfy,” Minako giggled. “I hope the ghosts didn’t give you trouble.”

“No, they didn’t. For a bunch of poltergeists, they were well-behaved during the entire renovation process.”

If Minako had to guess, they were probably glad to have new people come over to Mugglesworth when they haven’t had guests in years. The new light fixtures might be another factor. It must be nice for them to not get scared off and cast away by her light spells.

Opening the new wardrobe, Minako was treated to another pleasant surprise. The wardrobe was filled from corner to corner with clothes. It looked bigger on the inside than it did on the outside likely due to a spatial-expansion spell just like the magic in Sam’s shop.

“How cute! Are these all for me?”

“They are. My niece has been looking to donate her old clothes for a while now,” said Radcliffe.

“Niece?” Minako turned to Crewel. “Professor, you have a daughter?”

Crewel looked surprised. “I don’t have children.”

“I’m talking about my husband’s niece,” said Radcliffe.

“I see.” Minako’s cheeks turn pink with embarrassment before she went back to leafing through the clothes. Whoever this girl was, she had good taste. “These look so new for a bunch of hand-me-downs.”

“When you know your stuff with fashion magic, you can enchant clothes to lessen the wear and tear over the years. It’s not permanent, but I can guarantee that those clothes will look as fresh as they do now in about thirty years,” Crewel said.

“How convenient. Can you teach me how to do tha— whoa!” Minako physically stopped when she came across one particular outfit hiding in the deeper part of the wardrobe.

She unhooked it from the rack just to take a good look at it, only to be taken aback by how loud the design was. This was a power suit made by Crewel for sure. The exaggerated pagoda shoulders of the blazer and the contrasting black-and-white ensemble would probably make it easy for someone to stand out in a crowd. It had various sharp angles at the top with a skirt that hugged the waist and legs too much for Minako’s liking.

Radcliffe turned to her brother with a raised brow. “Really?”

“What? Don’t look at me like that, Ann. This is one of my award-winning pieces, and it matches her dorm colours,” Crewel defended.

“I see that, but award-winning doesn’t necessarily mean it’s everyone’s flavour.”

Minako wasn’t going to argue on that. It was a nice outfit, but it really wasn’t her style. Pastels, flowy or fluffy skirts, with a touch of vintage and cottagecore spoke to her more. She kept quiet though because hurting her professor’s feelings was the last thing she wanted.

Still, it’s been a long time since she received clothes that weren’t hand-me-downs let alone designer clothes. She felt butterflies flutter in her stomach. There were a few more animal-themed clothes in the corner of the wardrobe, each one more extravagant than the last and none of which she was interested in wearing.

It’s the thought that counts.

Finally, something caught her eye—a pink faux fur coat. It looked thick and warm, enough to fight the chill of the winter weather. If it weren’t for the fact that fur or animal themes were a staple to Crewel’s work, she wouldn’t have guessed that this more subdued design was his.

Pulling it out from the wardrobe, her suspicions were confirmed when she spotted Crewel’s embroidered signature on the inside of the coat.

“Is it to your liking?” Crewel sounded eager for an answer.

“It’s beautiful!” Minako hugged the coat close to her chest, feeling the softness of the fur.

Satisfied with her answer, Crewel sent a smug smile over to his sister who only rolled her eyes in response.

“Oh, before I forget.” Minako put the coat aside then reached into her canvas bag for the homemade biscuits. Raisin butter for Crewel and ginger nut for Radcliffe, all put into two paper bags and marked with their names. “It’s just my way of saying thank you for all the help you’ve given me.”

The truth is, neither of them had any reason to help her. Minako would even argue that she had given them more trouble than they needed recently.

They both gratefully accepted the gifts. With a grin, Radcliffe peeked inside her bag. “How lovely! I love ginger nut biscuits.”

Bless Sam’s soul for telling Minako their favourite treats. He even made sure to warn her about any allergies that they had.

“Thank you. Raisin butter is my favourite.” Crewel simpered. He didn’t even look inside the bag. Did he know? Minako’s shoulders sagged. Damn it, Sam. That was supposed to be a surprise.

◐ ━━━━━ ºoº Alexis ºoº ━━━━━ ◑

Alexis was fifteen when the family curse first came to light. She was young, too young to even get an internship at St. Mungo’s. And yet, she felt as if she had failed as a healer to see that Minako’s emotional pain had manifested into something deadly.

Not long after finding out about the curse, one particularly bad flare-up sent her into a coma. She was so still, her breathing so slow. Neither Alexis nor her siblings could afford to lose their baby sister, not after losing their parents and their grandmother. It was too much.

Someone from beyond the living must have heard their prayers since Minako had woken up a week later. Not only was she alive, but she looked as healthy as she did before the tragic death of their parents. The family would soon discover that this was how the curse functioned: a happy Minako was stronger than a normal girl her age, whereas a bad mood would make her look and act like a hollow shell of herself.

Minako had described to them what the curse felt like: a thousand hot needles and knives that tore her apart inside and out. Anything and everything that grazed her skin made her feel like she was going to die, but life would not give her the pleasure to do so. Screaming and crying was futile.

She once asked, “Is this what the Cruatious curse feels like?” before Flor shushed her.

Nobody answered her, nobody wanted to. Alexis will admit that that was a little insensitive on their little sister’s part. She might have been twelve at the time, but even at that age Minako was aware that there were certain topics that you shouldn’t touch upon.

Blot, as the family curse was centred around, had a violent nature at its core. That explained why Minako’s emotions had a tendency to fluctuate along with her health. It was easy to make her happy but also just as easy to make her upset. The best days were when Minako could be running a hundred-mile marathon, and the worst days were when she was capable of creating a raging hurricane in her room.

Alexis had done her fair share of research about their ancestors who once carried the curse. Using a combination of Muggle technology and magic, she was recently able to track down their lineage to about two-hundred years in the past. The curse had come from their father’s side of the family it seemed when their ancestors attended Mahoutokoro. Each generation had an abundance of children, ranging from five to ten offspring from each set of parents. However, the only ones that do not have any records of having children were the inheritors of the family curse, which was not surprising because they had all succumbed to debilitation then death shortly after graduating from school. That was not a comforting fact to know in the least.

The one and only exception to a childless, short-lived life went by the name of Akane. She managed to sire a son out of wedlock and presumably lived up to her early forties. But having mothered an illegitimate child who was later discovered to be a Squib, no less, Akane was the black sheep of the family (like she wasn’t already relegated to that since she was the curse-heir at the time). She and all the other inheritors did not have the most pleasant temperaments, at least once they hit puberty. Akane was even reportedly abusive towards her son, constantly throwing explosive fits and verbally beating him down. It got so bad, that Akane had accidentally unleashed her curse upon the entire family, killing everyone except for her child. The one good thing that came out of this was that her son managed to find solace through marrying a childhood sweetheart and eventually changed his surname to Nezumi.

Alexis had to take a long break for herself after learning about that. Minako was once a girl with volatile emotions too as a result of the curse. She didn’t like thinking about Minako being an abuser or dying. She didn’t like how close in resemblance Akane was to Minako and her father when she looked at the antique, yellowed photos. But it plagued her mind to think about what could have been had they left the symptoms of the family curse unchecked like all of their ancestors did.

Alexis and Flor dealt with the monster that Minako was in her preteen years, respectively becoming the carrot and stick to moderate her rapid mood swings. Minako even took on a variety of hobbies to provide some distraction and fostered a better relationship between her and Kento. It somewhat worked, although it took a whole summer to minimize her raging fits and the rest of the school year to help her through a depressive episode.

Maybe it was a bad idea to send her to another world. Minako always had someone that she knew and trusted to help stabilize her moods, like Kikyo and the Scamander twins. What if she can’t control herself on her own? Alexis wanted so badly to trust her sister’s maturity and fortitude, but her worries continued to fester in her mind even as she worked and as she went home.

She was already far enough from St. Mungo’s that Alexis felt safe enough to let her hair extensions break free from the charm she had been wearing all day. Wavy, brown tresses flowed freely, reaching just below her shoulders.

A bit of lip gloss too. Why not? She opened her compact mirror then traced her lips with a glittery, strawberry-flavoured gloss from a plastic tube. She could never be allowed to look like this even today in the Wizarding community. It would be nice to go to work not typically dressed like a man without being harassed.

During her walk back home from the apparition point, Alexis did her usual routine by looking over her shoulder at least five times and keeping one hand in her pocket for easy access to her pepper spray. She can’t risk accidentally leading some stalker to her address. Not again.

She listened attentively, trying not to let the hustle and bustle of London drown out the footsteps of a predator. Look left. Look right. Look behind. Finally, she reached 11 Grimmauld Place, assured that there was nobody following her.

“How could you… what do I … I trusted you!” Flor’s muffled shouting made Alexis freeze as she turned her key in the lock.

Were Ate Flor and Ate Fiona fighting? Wait, no. Neither of them would ever shout if they ever got into a disagreement. Alexis sure hoped that it was nothing serious. Those two rarely fought.

“I’m sorry… shouting won’t help…” A new voice popped up.

Hold the phone, was that Headmaster Ambrose?

Alexis finally felt brave enough to enter the house, quickly and quietly though so that her presence wouldn’t be known. Looking over the corner of the mudroom to peer into the lounge area, her suspicions were confirmed when she saw Ambrose’s azure robes and short grey hair. His head was dipped and downcast as Flor paced around the room. Uh oh, that wasn’t a good sign at all.

“Additionally, I don’t know if this would be of importance to you, but her luggage has also gone missing,” Ambrose said with shame in his tone.

“Her luggage? Why is her luggage missing?” Fiona sat upright in her armchair.

Flor’s pacing came to an abrupt halt, her back in Alexis’ view. Alexis could not see her expression, she didn’t have to see it to know what was going on in her older sister’s head. With the way Flor was inhaling deeply and how her hands would go up to massage her face, it made Alexis’ stomach churn at what unfortunate incident had befallen upon them. Nothing seemed to ever go right with this family.

Flor’s tone sounded eerily calm. “Great, great. Minako is missing and so are her valuables.”

What? Alexis dropped her handbag, making a loud thud. Everyone’s heads jerked to the side in surprise to look at her.

Someone called her name, but she was too shocked to recognize who it was, “Alexis—”

“WHAAAAATTTT?!”

◐ ━━━━━ ºoº Che’nya ºoº ━━━━━ ◑

Che’nya expected that this suitcase would be a lot heavier, but it was as light as air. It was coated with magic, so a spell was likely used to make the luggage feel almost weightless. At least it made his job much easier to do.

He giggled to himself, just thinking about how the faculty had already lost their heads after somebody’s luggage had gone missing. That’s two birds with one stone; causing chaos while making a special delivery.

To whom, you might ask? Why the purr-tty mouse of Night Raven College, Minako Nezumi, of course. Or should he say, the purr-tty mouse of Royal Sword Academy.

Yeah, that plan was stamped on and fell through the floor. Che’nya had a hunch that she would not be welcome by his classmates now that the others know about the blot situation. It was too bad. This is why he was doing this. He might be a troublemaker, but he wasn’t at all heartless. That purr-tty mouse might be happier in NRC.

Invisible to the world, he finally located the dorm where Minako was staying. The door was left wide open to let a couple of tomcats from Heartslabyul in with gift baskets in tow. Che’nya swiftly squeezed himself and the suitcase through the door but not before impishly tugging at a rabbit’s ears. He laughed at how the rabbit beastman flinched and squealed much to the confusion of the others.

Now, where oh where do I hide this? Che’nya drummed his fingers on the leather suitcase. He spotted a more private area away from the living room and side-stepped into the entry. On the cushion of one of the armchairs is where he gingerly placed the luggage, giving it a few good pats. It won’t be long until Miss Mouse finds it.

Che’nya’s keen ears perked up at the sound of footsteps going down the stairs. Oops, that was his cue to go. And he zipped out of the dorm through the window.

◐ ━━━━━ ºoº Minako ºoº ━━━━━ ◑

Minako had thought that the gift-giving frenzy was over for the day. Well, she was dead wrong. Immediately after she gave her own gifts to the Crewel siblings, Crewel pulled an UNO reverse card on her and gifted her a phone. Not even a secondhand phone or even remotely an old model, it was a brand-new phone.

“I doubt that your magic will destroy this one given that all of our technology is run by magic. However, do let me know if you do end up wrecking it,” Crewel said to her before he and Radcliffe left the dorm.

Cater was positively green with envy when he saw Minako with the package in her hands. His eyes nearly bulged out of its sockets. “The new Pomegranate Plus 6? I’ve been saving for one of those for a while now!”

“No way! Don’t those phones cost like a thousand madols?” Ace gaped at the unopened box marked with a sliced pomegranate bleeding juice from its seeds.

Minako chuckled inwardly at how Pomegranate phones were basically the Apple iPhones of Twisted Wonderland. Of course, they took a piece straight out of Greek mythology then made it the icon of their corporate businesses. However, it surprised her that she wasn’t given a phone inspired by the poisoned apple that put Snow White to sleep. They probably existed somewhere.

Riddle crossed his arms, looking unimpressed. “Cater, why would you need another phone, especially if it’s a famously expensive one? If I recall, your current phone works perfectly fine.”

“Aw, but it has all the new features. The new camera has the best editing tools.” Cater continued to ramble on about the benefits of having the newest Pomegranate phone, but Riddle did not seem to care about his reasoning in the least.

“Hey, Minako,” Deuce called from another room. “You left a suitcase in the den.”

Minako raised her brows in her confusion. “Suitcase? I haven’t had a suitcase since I came here.” All she had was her school bag.

Deuce poked his head through the entryway of the den. “But it has your name on it.”

Minako made her way over to him just to check what her friend was talking about. Once Deuce pulled the aforementioned suitcase into her view, she gasped and froze where she stood.

That was indeed her suitcase. Her travelling suitcase that she took on every vacation and on every year going to and leaving Hogwarts. The worn-out edges and black, leather straps decorating the brown outer shell were unmistakable. What was even more damning was her name embossed on the tag that hung from the handle.

“Minako, are you alright?” Trey called out to her with concern.

“Wha— I-I thought I left that back at Hogwarts,” Minako spluttered. Her hands reached out to touch the suitcase just to make sure that it was real. Yup, it was really here.

“I don’t think there’s anything inside it though. It’s really light.” Deuce effortlessly moved the suitcase up and down.

Minako quickly recovered from her shock. “Of course it’s light. It’s been enchanted with an extension charm, so it renders anything and everything inside of it lighter.”

“Wow, you’re really heavy on the vintage aesthetic. That thing looks ancient,” Ace snidely remarked.

“Shush, my sister-in-law gave it to me.” Thank you, Ate Fiona for making her trips to Hogwarts much easier. Minako pulled the latches up and opened the suitcase. “I better check if my things are still here.”

You would think that a bunch of boys who grew up with magic their entire lives would be placid in seeing Minako sink her entire body in that tiny suitcase. Apparently, they were not.

“What are you so surprised about? Your world has extension charms too!”

“They don’t extend that much!” The boys argued.

◐ ━━━━━ ºoº Kento ºoº ━━━━━ ◑

Kento leaned back on his office chair, blowing his newly turquoise-dyed fringe away from his face. Why did the job market have to dry up so quickly? Of all the jobs he managed to snag, it was this boring desk job at the Ministry.

As a kid, watching his older sister honing her newly discovered powers made him hope for a life with excitement and adventures. He expected to grow up to become some kind of hero like Percy Jackson or the legendary Harry Potter, but his hopes were crushed as soon as he was sorted into Ravenclaw.

I should have taken Care for Magical Creatures, he thought. Magical creatures were cool, but Kento at the time didn’t have the guts to approach things that were huge and volatile. That subject was more meant for Minako who was brave enough (or was it stupid enough?) to go and pet a buck wild, fifteen-foot Occamy.

Academically, Kento was the weakest in the family and that continued to persist in his Hogwarts years. So, why was he put in Ravenclaw? Sure, he made the most of his time there by practising his Charms, but the bronze eagle at the common room entrance gave him hell for seven years all because he couldn’t answer the riddles correctly. No, he did not know what has a mouth but can’t chew. (Some bastard Ravenclaw senior rolled his eyes at Kento when he was only eleven and correctly stated that the answer was “a river.”)

At least the one good thing that came out of all of this was getting to work at a cubicle right next to her. Big-hearted, blonde, and cute—his girlfriend, Ofelia never failed to bleed colour into his dreary days at the office.

Right on the dot, Ofelia’s hand outstretched above their mutual cubicle wall holding a box of Ribena like she did every few days. Kento gratefully accepted it with a whisper of a, “Thank you.” He would kiss her if it weren’t for the strict PDA rules. Back then he wouldn’t mind getting fired, but the nosey behaviour of the magical community forced the Nezumis to be on their best behaviour.

A five-minute break was much needed. The stack of letters on his desk kept piling up, no matter how fast he toiled away on his desk. He lamented every screech of the owls swooping in with envelopes bound with twine, and would pray that those documents would not land next to him.

The last four deliveries went to Kento. He was beginning to think that this was all a prank when he started to pick up on the giggles and smirks of his co-workers, but he didn’t have any proof that most of the work was being shoved onto him. Not to mention his older sister has been fretting over how the smallest slip-up could ruin their family’s welfare. He couldn’t risk making a potentially false accusation.

Kento tore the plastic straw from the juice box with a snap from the adhesive gluing them together. He shook the box around then poked his straw through the hole. He barely even got to enjoy a sip of the sweet, blackcurrant flavour when an owl descended upon them in the office. Oh, no, no, no! Kento grimaced at the thought of having to work overtime if any more paperwork landed on his desk. He hid his face in his hands as if his pathetic hiding place could protect him from an owl’s heightened senses.

Ofelia curiously peered over their shared wall to talk to him, probably to insist that he give half of his paperwork for her to work on again. But before he could deny her help for the umpteenth time, she asked him, “Kento, isn’t that your owl?”

Kento looked up from his hands and the dread lifted from his chest when his family’s beloved snowy owl dived to his desk, a letter in her talons.

“Oh, thank Merlin. You’re a sight for sore eyes, Snowdrop.” Kento fondly scratched Snowdrop’s head, and she cooed in response. “Is that a letter for me?”

Snowdrop stepped aside and fluttered over to rest on Kento’s shoulder, leaving the letter free from her grip. Kento’s name was written on the back of the envelope in Fiona’s handwriting. With the lack of cellphone service in any magical-dominant areas, wizards resorted to written letters delivered by owl. However, it’s not like anyone can send letters to you while you’re busy at work every day, let alone every few hours like you’re sending text messages. Kento would usually get at least one letter from home every month since he started working, and he seldom sent letters to his family these days.

Kento thought nothing of what was written in the letter as he opened the wax seal. It was probably just a request for him to shop for a few things in Diagon Alley.

He adjusted the position of his spectacles then he started reading it, or… skimming was a more accurate way to describe it. Blame his short attention span, but the phrases FAMILY EMERGENCY and Minako went missing was enough to set off the alarm bells in his head.

“Shit, shit, shit!” The vulgarity of his words prompted the perplexed and annoyed faces of his co-workers to look up.

“What? What happened?” Ofelia stepped out of her cubicle.

“Family… emergency… got a lot of work to do!” Kento was aware that he was a mess. Snowdrop frantically flapped her wings as he scrambled to collect his things. Of course his family meant more to him than his job, which meant that he would and should clock out a bit early, but he did promise Flor that he wouldn’t get in trouble at work.

“I’ll cover for you. You already had overtime for the past three days.” Ofelia seized him by his shoulders. It was in no way an offer but a demand. No ifs, ands, or buts.

(Once this shitshow was over, Kento was going to treat his girlfriend for dinner even if he had to spend every galleon from his hard-earned paycheck.)

His manager was a fair woman and understood the urgency of his family crisis. Therefore, she was kind enough to let him go an hour before he was supposed to clock out. Disapparating from the office with Snowdrop and appearing at the nearest Apparition point to Grimmauld, he forwent his usual habit of looking over his shoulder for any potential stalkers as he sprinted all the way home. In his defence, no one in his family has been pursued by any nefarious miscreants since the end of July and Snowdrop was capable of pecking someone’s eyes out if anyone in the family was in danger.

Once 11 Grimmauld Place came into view, Kento skidded to a halt and nearly tumbled into a mud puddle. He shoved his key into the lock and barged through the door without much thought.

“What the fuck happened?!”

In the living room, startled heads turned to look at him and Snowdrop. His entire nuclear family was here. Well, almost everyone. He came all the way here because of her.

And Ambrose was here too? Maybe that wasn’t the most surprising thing of all since he was the man who promised to take care of Minako while she was at that flowery prince academy. Keyword: promised.

“You.” Kento pointed an accusing finger at the Headmaster. “What happened to our sister?”

“Manners!” Alexis frowned, none too pleased at the delivery of his line.

Kento glanced over at Flor seated far back on the rocking chair, her fingers massaging her temple. He imagined that she must have exhausted herself from being cross over the situation. All because of the family curse following Mom and Papa’s passing, Minako received the most mother-henning from their older sister.

Ambrose often kept his posture straight with an affable smile on his face, but now his shoulders were sagging, and his expression was full of shame. Kento almost felt bad for nearly losing his temper at him. Almost.

Fiona beckoned him over. “Sit, sit. You’re going to have a lot in.”

◐ ━━━━━ ºoº ━━━━━ ◑

There were cartons and paper bags full of fried halibut, chips, onion rings and scallops. So much food that was ordered, and yet nobody was eating.

Except for Kento. He was shamelessly helping himself to the untouched fish and chips. Look, Minako being missing for weeks was as serious as it sounded, but the panic and running all the way from the Apparition point whet his appetite.

“You must understand. When travelling mirrors break, they can be difficult to put back together, so they’re often replaced with a new mirror. But you are all aware that your mirror and my own cannot simply be replaced.” There was the slightest hint of annoyance with the way Ambrose explained their current predicament, but he still maintained the patience of a saint. Kento had to applaud the Headmaster for that because he hated repeating himself too, especially if he had to explain how he fucked things up.

“Because they’re the only replicas that can travel to different worlds,” Kento suddenly spoke up, mouth full of chips. Bad idea. The food ended up getting caught in the base of his esophagus, so he tried to force it down with a pound of his fist against his chest.

“Correct.” Ambrose poured Kento a glass of water as if he was rewarding him. “I didn’t want to risk breaking your mirror once mine was repaired, so I had to wait until most of the blot subsided in the Bridge between our realms. Even so, I was losing time and I had to come to you.”

Alexis perked up from resting her cheek on her fist. “Wait, what about that hand mirror that Minako was supposed to contact us with?”

“Gone missing, just like our sister and her luggage.” Like the sound of a slow ticking of a clock, Flor retracted her fingers from the arm of her chair then rhythmically drummed them against the fabric. Slow, tense, the temperature was lowering. Big sis may not look like she had the energy to throw a fit right now, but Kento still kept his guard up.

“Those hand mirrors are also particularly hard to come by these days,” Ambrose admitted. Ah, time was a cruel thing.

“And that entire fiasco with having to pull you out of the mirror was because the space between realms was still caked with a bit of blot,” Fiona chipped in.

Flor ran her fingers through her hair that had all but loosened from her braid. If Kento didn’t know any better, he’d think his sister would look like a cranky single mother. She let out an exasperated sigh. “Just what was she so upset about that she pretty much damaged our only means to get to her?”

“I don’t think she meant to do that,” said Fiona.

“Definitely not. I guess she was a lot more anxious about transferring schools than we thought.” Alexis nervously bounced her leg with the speed of a rabbit’s foot. “She’s been getting better at hiding her emotions.”

“Do you think she got into a row with someone before she left and didn’t make up?” Fiona suggested.

And the shock and betrayal that Kento felt when everyone in the room side-eyed him. Even Snowdrop was staring at him! He was wounded deeply.

“Hey, we didn't fight!” he defended, but then he stopped. “I think…”

Kento and Minako once had a famously hostile sibling rivalry when they were young, but he would like to think that they got along much better now that they’re older. (It helped to know that upsetting his younger sister will always end in pain.) That is not to say they didn’t fight anymore. Their spats still ran deep almost like it was second nature to fight when it came to their relationship.

Oh, God. Did he offend her somehow? Maybe he said something unintentionally hurtful. Maybe it was because he ate the last ube cream donut. The intrusive thoughts continued to race in his mind, and Kento sank in his chair out of guilt.

“In any case,” Flor began, “I think it’s time we stop sitting on our asses and actually start clearing the way.” She continued, muttering the last bit as she brandished her wand, “I’m going to shine my Patronus so hard that those blotlings go blind then tear up everything and everyone in my path to find her.”

I can’t believe this woman was sorted into Hufflepuff. Flor was loyal and hardworking for sure, but her dedication to the family was Minako’s Slytherin-like level of deadly.

“Y-yes, I suppose we shouldn’t waste any more time.” A bead of sweat rolled down Ambrose’s wrinkly temple. An esteemed and sometimes humorous Headmaster of a well-renowned school was now following the commands of an ordinary witch that was Ate Flor.

Just like mom. Flor was the spitting image of her too, and Minako was well on her way to become a more cunning version of their mother.

The women in the Nezumi family are to be feared.

◐ ━━━━━ ºoº ━━━━━ ◑

Bonus: (You can decide whether this scene is canon or not)

◐ ━━━━━ ºoº Ace ºoº ━━━━━ ◑

It took a powerhouse of a magician or two along with a large amount of time to make an extension the size of a large room let alone a pocket dimension. The spacious expanses of land in the other dorms most certainly did not take one day or even two days to finish, and you still needed a bigger object than just Minako’s suitcase to shove all of that magic in.

By all accounts, the space inside Minako’s suitcase should be too unstable to exist. And yet, Ace found himself and the others following their eccentric, otherworldly friend inside her suitcase. He might never understand how magic worked where she came from.

Minako had no right to make going inside the suitcase look so easy because the minute Ace had put his second foot in, it couldn’t find the solid ground unlike his other foot. It startled him so much that he lost his balance and fell right through the chute like the girl who fell down the rabbit hole. At least his landing was cushioned by the unexpectedly spongy floor. When his vision cleared soon after his fall, he found himself looking up at the ladder going down the chute and Minako’s laughter. He missed that by a mile.

“O-oh, my god! A-are you… ha, ha, ha! Are you—” Minako couldn’t even finish her sentence as she dissolved into a pile of laughter. Ace grumbled and shot a baleful look at her.

The next person wasn’t much better at finding the ladder himself, prompting Ace to roll out of the way when Deuce plummeted from the chute into the landing area with a scream.

“Dumbass, did you seriously go in head first coming in here?” Ace jeered.

Offended, Deuce shot back, “You fell down too! I was checking to see if there was some kind of ladder…” His face turned red. “…then I fell.”

“Sorry, there isn’t much I can do to widen the entrance. The best that we could do was make the landing soft in case if you miss the ladder,” said Minako.

Suddenly, there was a shout from outside the suitcase, “Look out below!”

With a whoop and childlike glee, Cater plunged down the chute. The force of his fall was so strong that it sent Ace, Deuce, and Minako bouncing off to the side on the spongified floor. He shook his hair around as he came down from his adrenaline high then he gleefully looked around.

“There’s so much space. You could practically live in here,” he said.

“I’ve definitely tried camping in here before. My sister freaked out when she couldn’t find me since I forgot to tell her,” Minako recalled.

Next came Trey and Riddle who were the only ones who managed to find the ladder and go down as carefully as they could. Boring. Their reactions were lukewarm. Okay, maybe not completely lukewarm. Ace had noticed that the ladder had large gaps in between the steps, and seeing Riddle struggling to find his footing on the next rung managed to get a few chuckles out of him. Minako was even more of a pipsqueak than the dorm leader. How does she even climb up and down that thing on the regular?

“Boys, welcome to my suitcase,” said Minako. Those are words that Ace would never think he would hear, but considering it was his weird witch friend, it didn’t surprise him that much.

Minako went on to describe her suitcase as more of a mobile Room of Requirement rather than a walk-in closet, whatever that meant. Ace didn’t expect there to be different rooms to separate her clothes, books, and even a potion lab marked with a neon yellow Keep Out sign. What caught his interest the most were the three brooms displayed on the rack.

It caught Deuce’s attention too, drawing his attention like a flame to a moth. “You fly these?”

“Yeah, my older brother’s great at making fast-flying broomsticks, but that Firebolt Supreme is top-notch,” Minako boasted a little, pointing to an ash wood broom with metal crossbars that Ace was going to assume are foot rests. Those weren’t normally found on brooms that he’s seen before. There were little nicks on the handle here and there telling him that it was well-used but still seemed to be in great condition and regularly cared for.

“Your brother makes brooms? Do you play Magical Shift?” Ace asked.

“I don’t know what Magical Shift is, but I play a little bit of Quidditch.”

“What’s Quidditch?” Deuce asked.

“You don’t know what Magical Shift is?” Trey gaped.

“Different worlds, remember?” Minako deadpanned.

Next, Ace spotted a desk in the corner of the suitcase that was uncharacteristically messy for someone like Minako. He walked over to it. Piles of books with foreign codes were left open, pieces of parchment were haphazardly left lying around or crumpled up on not just the desk but the floor as well, and there were empty bottles of ink that desperately needed to be thrown out.

Among the ink and papers, Ace found a gaudy mesh of colours that did not blend well at all with the “aesthetic of the suitcase. He gently pulled it out only to find out that it was a long, rainbow scarf.

Ace wasn’t a fashion guy, but his eyes work and can clearly see that there was too much going on with this apparel. “Ugh, how tacky.”

“Who are you callin’ tacky?!”

Ace let out an ear-piercing shriek and immediately threw the scarf to the ground, crawling away like he had come into contact with a spider. Gaping at the flashy accessory, he watched as the multicoloured fabric suddenly form a mouth and a pair of eyes.

What. The. Fuck?

“Ace, what’s going on over there?” Riddle sounded more annoyed than concerned for him.

“It talked!”

“Hey now, that wasn’t very nice. Can someone get me off the floor?” the scarf asked.

And then came the most jarring phrase of the day that came out of Minako’s mouth, “Oh, I see you’ve met the Scarf of Sexual Preference.”*

…

“The fucking what?”

◐ ━━━━━ ºoº ━━━━━ ◑

Notes:

*Contacting Pendant: SPOILERS FOR FUTURE EVENT!!! In the Endless Halloween night event (still exclusively in the JPN server for now), the boys on the rescue mission to retrieve the missing students were equipped a mirror pendant in order to easily contact the faculty through the hand mirror that have in their possession. Yes, it's a reference to the mirror from Beauty and the Beast. The mirror and pendant are apparently antique contacting devices long before phones took over.

*Knackered: British slang for tired.

*Takeaway: The British term for takeout food.

*Wellington boot: Also known as wellies. They are what Americans call galoshes (rubber boots) that are worn over the shoes to protect them from rain or mud.

*Ribena: A British blackcurrant beverage. I learned about this drink through Florence Pugh's mukbang video. I've never had it before, but I hear that if you get it from a bottle you have to mix the drink with water. In the video, Florence drank her Ribena from a juice box, so I'm guessing that you don't have to mix it with water when it comes in a box (otherwise what was the straw for?)

*Scarf of Sexual Preference: If you have watched the AVPM (A Very Potter Musical) series, then you know what this reference is.

Fun Facts:

The pomegranate phone is a small reference borrowed from Lore Olympus.

The actress, Emma Thompson, played both Sybil Trelawney from Harry Potter and the Baroness from Cruella. I was a bit shocked to find that out. Her acting range is amazing.

Sorry for the wait! I had a lot of family events going on and July is just filled with birthdays and family visitations. I also struggled to write how the chemistry functioned with the faculty as well the rest of the family's thoughts on the predicament. However, I did have a lot of fun writing the further development with Minako's ties with Crewel siblings.

And while I know that the MC was forced to rough it when it came when they got stranded in Twisted Wonderland, Minako in particular will be treated more nicely here by the staff and close friends. Yes, I know protagonists have to suffer, but Minako's health and everyone else's safety hinges on the stability of her emotions. They're not just going to ignore the safety precautions when they know about the consequences. But I would like to let you know that the curse won't be letting up anytime soon and that some of those who don't know Minako that well or her curse will probably subject her to some piss poor treatment.

Finally, what did you all think of the Nezumi family?

8 notes · View notes

negandarylsatisfaction · 3 years

Text

[SUMMARY: Negan arrives in Alexandria with the intention to disrupt them until he realizes the woman he loved is there with a daughter he never knew he had.]

Smut

Negan and Mera.

Hearing your daughter play outside with Judith you smiled doing the laundry. Humming to yourself you were startled when Daryl rushed into the house.

“Bring the girls inside, they’re here.”

“Crap.” You whispered, for almost a few months now Alexandria had gone by without trouble until a new group was discovered. They called themselves the saviors but they sounded like assholes. Little did you and Daryl know, the Saviors had already arrived. Just outside was their leader Negan looking around the town. Taking a look around he found the two young girls playing together and noticing one of them had a gun. The girl with the gun looked about twelve while the other looked around four years old.

“Aren’t you too young to be carrying a gun?” He called out to the little girl who looked back at him suspiciously.

“Who the hell are you?” Negan chuckled.

“I’m Negan and you must be-“

“Judith.” She responded as the girl beside her looked down at the floor shyly.

“And you?” Negan asked her making her hesitantly look up.

“Caroline.”

“Hi Caroline,” He smiled at her finding her appearance to be oddly familiar to him.

Talking in the kitchen with Daryl you suddenly noticed you weren’t hearing the girls anymore. Running towards the door to check on them you opened it to see something you were not ready for.

It was Negan.

You froze unable to think or speak, it had been four long years since you last saw him. The two of you had a short romance. You fell in love deeply, as did he. Negan was still married but separated from his wife. He planned on divorcing her until he found out she was sick. Negan didn’t have the heart in him to leave her while she was dying and ended things with you although he felt true love for you. It broke you into a million pieces. Right after Negan had left you, you found out you were pregnant and he never knew. Many things changed in an instant, the world changed as you knew it. Many things happened in your journey along the way but never did you think you would see Negan again. Now this was the man terrorizing your group.

“Mera?” Daryl suddenly appeared next to you making you snap out of your thoughts realizing this wasn’t a dream at all. Negan was there and he was speaking to your daughter.

“Crap-“ Daryl muttered when he realized the men had arrived.

“Caroline!” You suddenly called out in a shaky voice making Negan look up and notice you. The expression on his face changed in an instant but you couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Mera..” he whispered low to himself in shock. In that moment Negan had just realized why the young girl looked so familiar, she looked just like you.

“Caroline go with Judith to your reading class-“

“But mommy-“

“Right now!” You yelled making her sigh before the two girls walked off together. Negan looked at the young girl wondering who you were with, wondering who you had this little girl with. He looked back at you making you nervously close the door and rush inside.

“This fucking woman.” Negan whispered to himself before rushing towards where you were until Daryl stopped in front of him.

“Ain’t nothing to see over there.” Daryl spoke bravely making Negan lean towards him.

“Get the hell out of my way.”

You watched from the window knowing Negan would not give up to get to you.

“Trust me I’m way more familiar with Mera than you are, asshole.” Daryl was speechless at the fact that Negan knew your name.

“Daryl, it’s fine. Just let him go.” Rick advised him being afraid of what Negan might do. Clearly annoyed Daryl moved away and let Negan go to where you were.

“Great.” You whispered to yourself quickly rushing into the laundry room and keeping yourself busy. Your back to the door you bit your bottom lip nervously as you continued to fold the clothes. Negan walked in loudly stomping around the house searching for you. Each stomp making your heart skip a beat until you heard him reach the entrance of the room you were in. There was silence as you took a deep breath and continued to fold the clothes.

“What’s wrong, baby? Not so happy to see me?” Negan finally spoke, the sound of his voice sending goosebumps throughout your body. Arrogance in his tone, typical of him.

“Don’t.” You whispered not turning to him, but you heard him get closer.

“Look at me, Mera.” He spoke sternly, any trace of sarcasm leaving his voice. His words making you squeeze your eyes shut before you slowly turned around. The first time locking eyes with him made you feel like the world stopped around you. You swallowed nervously before you spoke, you never expected this day to come.

“What the hell do you want?” You whispered, your body tense as he stared down at you.

“Now..-“ he frowned tilting his head.

“Is that any way to greet the man that loves you?” You scoffed turning your face, you couldn’t believe he had the nerve.

“Now tell me-“ he grinned, but through his grin he showed dare you say, jealousy.

“Who’s this lucky man that got you pregnant, huh?” Your lips parted but you couldn’t speak, how the hell were you suppose to tell him that he was the lucky man he spoke of.

“Is it one of those guys out there?” He squinted his eyes as he spoke stepping closer.

“Negan-“

“Please don’t tell me it’s Daryl,” he laughed when you both were interrupted by Caroline herself running into the room and up to you.

“Mommy! I forgot my book.” She stopped at your feet before she turned to look up at Negan. Silently he gave her a friendly wink before she looked away.

“Oh baby, I’m sorry” you reached behind you to grab her notebook and crouched down to her level.

“Here you go, come let me walk you back.” Negan moved out of your way crossing his arms as he watched you walk out with your daughter. When you came back Negan was patiently waiting for you with a charming smile that he knew how to use very well.

“Cute kid, she looks just like you.”

“Thank you,” you smiled as you walked back to where you were.

“Now tell me” he stood straight facing you.

“Who is it, was it at that asshole from the supermarket that always tried to talk to you?” He asked with curiosity. Taking a deep breath you looked up at him before hesitantly beginning to speak.

“Negan, remember when we broke up?” His face turned serious at your question.

“Mhm,” he didn’t like thinking about how you both ended.

“Remember the day you left, before we broke up we-“

“We had some amazing sex,” he chuckled, he could never forget that since it was the last time he felt he made love to a woman.

“Well Negan...um... I found out that..um-“ you stumbled over your words scratching the side of your head.

“Negan I found out I was pregnant one month later,” you finally blurt out. The smile quickly vanishing from his face.

“Excuse me?” You could feel your heart racing in your chest, the heat within you rising.

“She’s..our daughter, Negan.” With tears forming in your eyes you looked up at him as he looked at you in shock and silence.

“How?” He asked making you raise your brows.

“You don’t remember all the drinks we had...we were-“

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Negan, I couldn’t....after you left I was so hurt and angry. I didn’t even know at first. When I found out I drove to your house, I saw you outside with her....she was in a wheel chair. I couldn’t bring myself to go and tell you-“

“So you just dealt with this alone?”

“I had no choice...then all of this started right after and everything changed.”

“I could’ve helped you” he raised his voice taking a step towards you making you look away.

“How? Your wife was dying and you left me after telling me you would divorce her. You just left like if we had nothing and got back with her.” You wiped away a tear remembering the heart break you felt. Remembering the times the two of you had together, the two of you practically lived together happily until Lucille called him. They weren’t together but she had no one else and Negan felt guilt.

“I turned out fine though, it was scary and it was hard being pregnant with all that was going on.” Negan pressed his lips together as he took in everything you said.

“Where did you have her?”

“Here. Rick and Daryl found me, I was seven months pregnant. I had nobody and they helped me, they helped your daughter. They’ve been great to us.”

“Shit,” Negan muttered to himself looking down. How was it the two people he was tormenting were the people who unknowingly cared for the woman he loved and for his child.

“Nothing ever happened between you and any of them?”

“No, Negan.” You responded softly.

“Shit....I guess I owe some apologies then huh?” Negan raised his brows.

“I’ll talk to them-“

“Oh you would do that for me?” He asked with a smirk.

“Just....just wait here, it’s better I talk to them now,” you walked past him when he gently grabbed your arm making you turn to him. No humor in his eyes, you could feel his true emotions.

“Are you going to tell Caroline who I am?” You looked away uncomfortably, you didn’t want your daughter getting hurt.

“We’ll talk about that when I get back,” you spoke in a whisper before leaving him and going to talk to Rick and Daryl.

Rick and Daryl were surprised with the news you gave them, still hesitant to trust Negan they trusted your word with him not causing anymore trouble. Being that they trusted you they let you deal with this situation how ever you felt comfortable. After you spoke to them you went to get Caroline and explained you had a special friend in the house.

Negan waited patiently lost in his thoughts, he still couldn’t believe that he was a father. Brushing his hands over his face he heard you walk in talking to Caroline. His heart racing as you made your way to the kitchen, in you walked with your daughter. Never had you seen Negan look nervous, he was doing his best to hide it.

“Hi,” Negan spoke looking down at Caroline.

“Baby say hi,” she looked over at you before looking up at Negan and waving at him.

“She’s very shy,” you laughed as you looked up at Negan and caught him smiling down at her. The look in his eyes took your breath away. Never had you seen him look this way before, he was quiet but his expression spoke volumes. Turning to Caroline you got down on your knees and decided now was a good time as any, she deserved to know.

“Baby, remember when you saw Judith’s daddy and you asked me about yours?” She looked at you with big brown eyes and nodded, Negan took a deep breath knowing what you were about to do.

“Do you remember what mommy said?”

“Daddy was fighting the bad people,” she responded innocently.

“Mhm, that’s right.” Negan felt a sting of guilt at the choice of words knowing all the mistakes he made.

“Well daddy came back and he wanted to see you,” you laughed at the excitement in Caroline’s eyes.

“This is your daddy,” you turned Caroline his way as he slowly crouched down. Blinking back tears he smiled before clearing his throat.

“Hi baby girl,” he felt a knot in his throat forming.

“You wanna give daddy a hug?” You spoke gently as she responded quickly with a nod.

“Come here.” He grinned opening his arms to her before she ran into them.

“Oh sweet girl,” he whispered holding her close. Caroline looked up at Negan and noticed the tear rolling down his cheek.

“Daddy’s crying,” she looked over at you as Negan quickly wiped his face.

“Daddy’s just happy, I’m so happy to see you.” She turned back to him with a smile.

The three of you enjoyed a small dinner together, Negan couldn’t take his eyes off of his daughter.

“I better get her ready for bed,” you stood up as Negan followed.

“Hey Mera,” he called out to you making you turn to him.

“Can I stay just for the night?” Hesitantly you smiled, you weren’t sure if it was a good idea but a part of you didn’t want him to leave.

“Yes.” You smiled before picking up Caroline and taking her upstairs.

“Good night, sweet girl.” Negan spoke softly to Caroline as she smiled at him looking over your shoulder.

A little while later you came back downstairs to Negan sitting in the living room silently. He looked like he was lost in a deep thought until he heard you enter the room.

“You okay?”

He brushed his hand over his hair before taking a deep breath.

“I was just thinking about how you told Caroline daddy wasn’t around cause he was fighting the bad guys.” He scoffed at himself as he looked at the ground.

“In reality daddy was the bad guy to others, I’ve done a whole lot of shit.” You remained silent not knowing exactly what to say, he looked up at you for a moment before he got up and began to make his way to you.

“You know I never wanted to leave you.”

“Negan we don’t have to talk-“

“Mera, please.” He looked you dead in the eye, you could tell he needed to express this.

“I never wanted to leave you. I thought of you every God damn day and I’m not a man of prayer but I prayed every day that you were alive.” He spoke low staring down at you. Blinking away a tear you looked away, he could tell this was hard for you and he hated himself for that.

“If I would’ve know that you were pregnant I swear I would’ve been there.”

“I should’ve still told you...I just, when I saw you with her there I froze...you left like nothing I just wasn’t thinking.” Again you began to tear up and Negan moved closer to comfort you.

“Im fine,” you stepped back away from him when there was a delicate knock on the door startling you. Quickly you wiped your tears and rushed towards the front door with Negan behind you.

“Daryl,” you smiled as he stood at the door way handing you a jar of fruit.

“I meant to give ya this earlier, for Caroline.”

“Oh thank you, Daryl. I appreciate that.” Daryl responded with a nod before his expression change at the sight of Negan behind you. Negan was silent for a moment before he stepped forward moving closer beside you.

“I just wanted to say thank you for helping Mera...for being good to my daughter-“

“Where were ya,” Daryl asked coldly and unexpectedly. You looked up at him a bit shocked.

“Daryl please-“

“No it’s alright, Mera. I should’ve been with her but...things happened. I’m just glad to be here now.”

“Mera is a great mother, Caroline’s a good kid....they been through a lot...don’t mess em up.” Before Negan could respond Daryl walked off leaving him speechless. Awkwardly you shut the door and walked passed Negan before he caught you by your waist.

“Do you think that way?” He could tell you got fidgety and couldn’t look him in the eye.

“What way?” He looked at you with a frown as if he had just come into realization with something.

“You think I’m gonna leave again.”

“Negan-“

“You think I would leave you again?”

“This isn’t about me, or us this is about Caroline.” You pushed his hand off and walked off to the next room as he followed.

“This is about you and her, Mera.” He spoke as you turned your back to him cleaning up the kitchen.

“Well I don’t need you, she does-“

“So do you, I know you’ve missed me Mera I see it all over your fucking face.”

You laughed sarcastically in response.

“This has been done with for years, Negan. I just want you to be a father to her, I’m over it-“

“Well I’m not!” He practically yelled leaving you silent. He knew just as much as you did that you were not being honest about your feelings. Pride and anger still running through you with how things ended, you didn’t want to make it easy for him to be with you again.

“I know I hurt you, Mera.” His tone now much calmer as you remained silent.

“But I’m not just here for Caroline, I’m here for you too.”

“Well I don’t need you. I do just fine all by myself. Besides, I have Daryl and Rick-“

“Yeah but they don’t love you like I do.” He responded bluntly. Silence followed as you put down the shirt and sighed. Negan came closer to you, you felt his hands gently taking hold of your waist from behind, your heart racing from his touch.

“They’re not here for you the way I can be, baby-“

“Don’t.” You turned around pushing his hands off of you.

“Don’t call me baby, don’t start with that.” As serious as you looked, he couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“What the hell are you smiling at?”

“That still does it huh?” He whispered in a husky voice.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh you know what I’m talking about...baby” he grinned noticing you take a slow deep breath.

“I remember how much you loved when I called you that special little word,”

“Stop it” you whispered looking away, Negan let out a deep chuckle knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

“Stop what, baby?”

“I’m going to bed.” You pushed past him making him laugh, of course he followed you.

“Come on, don’t tell me you don’t remember our lovely nights-“

“What do you want from me, Negan?” Your turned to him as he pressed his lips together slowly closing the distance between the two of you.

“I want you to trust me.” Shaking your head you looked down.

“I don’t know if I can..” you whispered just as he gently titled your face up towards him.

“Try too,” he whispered before closing his eyes and leaning in for a soft kiss. Caressing his face gently you kissed him savoring the taste of him when Caroline startled the both of you.

“Mommy?” You gasped pulling away quickly, Negan instantly backed away.

“What’s wrong, Caroline? Why are you awake?”

“Can you tell me a story?” You sighed and nodded as you picked her up in your arms.

“How about I sing you a song instead?” Negan suggested making Caroline nod with excitement.

Standing by the door you watched as Negan tucked Caroline in bed and sat beside her. You enjoyed the view of him being a dad.

“I’m gonna sing you a song your mommy used to love,” he looked back at you and winked. Just as he began to sing you began to think back to the nights that the two of you lay in bed cuddling together, he held you tight singing you different old songs that you loved. Now here he was singing to your daughter, a smile formed on your face as you heard him sing. His voice was husky yet calming, before you knew it, Caroline had fallen to sleep. Negan quietly walked out to you and slowly closed the door behind him.

“I knew that would work.” He whispered with a grin. You smiled before letting out a loud yawn.

“Long day?” He stepped forward with a smirk as you stepped back with a playful look.

“Come on, don’t do that.” He whispered closing you into a corner.

“Stop. That shouldn’t have happened before.” You looked away knowing you didn’t mean what you said. It was hard for you to deny Negan but you didn’t want him to get his way easily. Gently pushing him away you made your way to the bedroom as he looked back at you.

“So you’re gonna make me sleep by myself?”

“There’s a couch in the bedroom. You can sleep there.” You responded without turning back to him. He smiled with excitement and followed you to the room.

Without saying a word you got into bed as he made his way to the couch. Quietly he began to take off his leather jacket. Not being able to help yourself you caught yourself looking at him. His tatted forearms up to his broad shoulders, then his neck...you loved the way the black necklace lay around it. You began to think back to how much he loved when you kissed his neck, how much you loved it. The deep sound that would escape his lips at the feel of your tongue teasing him. Not to mention the things he would do to you, the way he would touch you, each touch showing how hungry he was for you. Thinking of things he would do you found yourself getting aroused when Negan suddenly turned and locked eyes with you.

“Well well well,” he grinned with excitement as you quickly looked away.

“Did I just catch you checking me out?” You could hear the cockiness in his voice.

“No you didn’t,” you quickly turned your back to him making him chuckle.

“Oh but I think I did,” you felt Negan lean over you, you felt him close behind you.

“What are you doing?” You turned around now face to face to him, sinking into the bed not expecting him to have been so close. His eyes darkening with you so close to him, your lips so close to his. You watched his eyes look down at your lips making your heart race.

“Negan...” he almost seemed hypnotized as he stared down at you.

“Do you really want me to stop?” He whispered as his jaw clenched. Looking up at him for a moment you hesitantly shook your head. Without saying a word you suddenly pulled him down against you. His body falling on yours as your lips connected, he moaned in excitement feeling your arms holding him close.

“God I missed your touch..” he whispered before you rolled him over and got yourself on top of him. With a smile you leaned on his chest and began to grind on him feeling him grow hard between your legs. His hands on your thighs he watched your body move on his, you pulled off your shirt and felt his hands move up to your breasts.

“Not so fast-“ you tapped his hand.

“What I can’t touch you? Come on, Mera don’t do that to me.” He breathed deeply as you got off him. Slowly you removed the rest of your clothes seductively.

“Oh yeah.” He whispered with excitement, quickly pushing off his pants he watched you move your body towards him. He began to jerk himself off slowly until you reached him and moved his hand away. Not breaking eye contact you got on top of him and felt his cock jerk in between your legs. Teasing the shaft of his cock to feel how wet you were, you also leaned forward and began sucking on his neck. Negan moaned deeply thrusting his hips upward, all he wanted was to feel himself inside you.

“Mera please...” he whispered squeezing your waist. The tip of his cock feeling how wet you were, he wanted to dive right in.

“Shhh...” you picked your head up looking down at him with a sneaky smile.

“Just hold me..” you began to grind on him, his cock sliding in between your pussy lips, Negans face tensed up.

“It’s been way too long,” you whispered softly as you moved.

“Oh way too long baby,” his eyes in a daze before you leaned in and kissed him. Your lips never separating from his as you continued to grind on him until he finally slipped in. Negan groaned thrusting upward as he squeezed your body tightly. It was a sensation he had been wanting to feel for so long, just as much as you did. Leaning on his chest you pushed yourself up and started to hop on him. Holding your waist he helped your movement, carrying you up and slamming you back down on him. The both of you moaned in sync as you closed your eyes and caressed your breasts riding him. Negan focused on you, watching you touch yourself, hearing your moans he pressed his lips together tightly. His breathing was heavy as he concentrated on you. He knew it was going to be hard for him to last as long as he wanted to with how much he ached for your touch.

“You like how I ride you?” You moaned as he looked up at you intensely, he could barely speak. Yet his expression said it all for you, his skin turning a bright red as he lifted his head and looked down at himself entering you. His cock filled with your cream all around it, a word escaping his lips that you could not make out.

“Mera-“ he looked up at you as you continued to ride him, you already knew his facial expressions..it was something you could never forget, you could tell he was ready to cum.

“Yes, Negan?” You responded teasingly as you continued to ride him. You bit back a smile as you began to move faster. He cursed as you moved hard on him, you knew exactly what you were doing.

“What is it, baby?” you asked breathlessly.

“Mera- I’m about to fucking cum..” he forced out in a short breath before he roughly picked you up off of him. Loudly he moaned in relief throwing his head back as you watched him cum. His hands squeezing your waist as the last drops of him spilled out. Falling back in between his legs you couldn’t take your eyes off his throbbing cock. Negan lay back closing his eyes as he caught his breath.

“You okay?” You whispered as he quickly lifted up his hand to you.

“Sh...give me a minute...I almost didn’t pull out..” he spoke out of breath.

“This was how you got pregnant last time... I fucking know it..” you laughed as you stood up and got dressed.

“Actually that wasn’t how it happened, I wasn’t on top of you. You were behind me and never pulled out...so that’s on you.” You teased as he got up from the bed.

“Shit, do you blame me?” He smirked as he cleaned himself up and got dressed. You shrugged before taking a moment to enjoy the view of him with just his pants on. The hair trailing down to his manhood was something you always loved. He stopped and stared at you for a moment before taking a step closer and reaching out to your hand.

“Lay with me, baby” you smiled and took hold of his hand. The two of you laying in the dark together, his arm around you. He began to hum softly against your ear.

“I never thought I would experience a night like this again,” you whispered as he pulled you in closer.

“Well you’re gonna keep having nights like this baby cause I’m not going anywhere.” You smiled when Caroline’s voice made you both lift your heads up.

“Mommy, I had a bad dream” she whispered by the door.

“Get over here, sweetheart.” Negan called to her as he moved aside and tapped the space between the both of you. She smiled as she ran into the bed and got under the covers.

“Better?” Negan asked as he made sure she was tucked in.

“Daddy?” Negans eyes lit up realizing this was the first he heard her call him this, you smiled watching them together.

“Yes, my love?”

“Can...can you sing another song.” You laughed with Negan as he kissed her forehead gently.

“Of course I’ll sing for my girls.” And just like that the two of you lay comfortably with him as he sang some of your old favorite tunes, easily drifting into a peaceful sleep.

#jeffrey dean morgan #negan #the walking dead negan #negan x reader #Negan x you #the walking dead imagines #the walking dead fan fictions #negan fanfic #negan fan fiction

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 3 years

Note

Can I request a Thomas (tmr) x f!reader soulmate au maybe where he comes up to the glade after she’s been there for a while with her name on his wrist. And that brings back her memories of him? Thank you!!

Of course, sweet Anon! 😊 I don't usually like AU, but I actually do like the soulmate trope lol. Also, this took too long, I know. I've been so unmotivated and I have no idea why and I still have like 4 more imagines to do hahahahahaaa......ugh

Aaaanyway...*cough cough* this is...what it is. I have this disease, called "backstoryinitis" where I add too much backstory to an imagine, so, uh, sorry?

~~~~~~~~~~

Wiping a bead of sweat off your brow, you stopped hoeing the ground when you heard the loud alarm that rang every month.

Another month, another Greenie...

You'd lived in the Glade for a couple years now, so you were used to new kids coming up in what everyone called the Box every month. It's really the only way you could keep track of how long you were stuck in this place.

Every month, you wondered if there was going to be someone like you sent up; a female. Being the only girl in a group of dozens of boys, it got lonely. Of course you had friends, but it just wasn't the same to you. And what was even weirder, you had a tattoo on your wrist, a name.

At first, when you came up in the Box without your memories, you actually thought it was your name, until you remembered your actual name.

Looking at your wrist every day and night, you tried to comb your brain for any sliver of memory that could answer your hundreds of questions that you had. Why was this name on your wrist, and who was this person? You hoped you'd find out, one day.

You ran alongside your friend to the Box, Chuck. Well, more like closest person you considered a younger brother. He very well could've been for all you knew, but he was just one of over fifty other boys that could've been a relative. But you always called Chuck "baby brother," not that he enjoyed that nickname, in public at least. He did get teased a bit by the other guys if you called him that within earshot, so you eased up on the name a bit. But you couldn't help that protective sister side of you when you thought Chuck was getting too close to the Box when it still hadn't come up all the way.

You looked around at all the excited faces of the other boys, anxious to see the new Greenie, anxious to hassle him more like.

You always tried to be nice to Greenies, remembering how poorly you were treated when you arrived in the Glade a couple years ago. No one would really take you seriously because you were a girl. You didn't even get a job assigned to you until a few months later, of course besides the stereotypical doing the laundry and helping Frypan in the kitchen, until you almost burned down the whole shack. Turns out, you were a terrible cook. Fry still teases you about it from time to time.

Eventually, you gained everyone's trust, even Gally's, that kid definitely took some convincing though. You thought he hated you if you were being honest, but in time, you saw through your anger and understood why. Some mysterious girl just shows up with a name tattooed on her wrist when nobody else did? It probably would've freaked you out too. Thankfully, everyone stopped asking you about it when you didn't even know yourself.

You winced softly when a dull pain shot up your hand, the ink in your wrist started to itch. Huh, it's never itched before? You tried to think nothing of it when the Box finally came up all the way, Gally reaching down and opening up the hatch doors.

Everyone peered over the sides of the heavy metal doors, trying to get a good look at the new Greenie. Of course, it was another male, cowering in the corner in terror like so many other boy you've seen. An odd feeling washing over you, like nostalgia but mixed with an almost sense of overwhelming joy. The feeling was so all consuming that you didn't even notice the new Greenie taking off in a dead sprint until all your fellow Gladers started to whoop and holler, obviously finding the Greenie's fear amusing, the boy faceplanting only adding to their boisterous laughter.

You rolled your eyes, mumbling to yourself, "The dude's just scared."

Of course, the Greenie being terrified out of his mind didn't stop the Keepers from deciding to keep him in the pit until he calmed down, a sentiment you did not share. Newt chuckled, gaining your attention quickly. "What're you laughing at?" You asked.

"Nothing, just adorable how you feel for the Greenies."

"Oh, shuck you."

"Why so defensive?"

"I am not." You pouted, crossing your arms. "It's not like he's the only one that's totally freaked out on the first day. He shouldn't be locked up in the pit."

"That is true, but you know it's for everyone's safety, including his." He said, walking away.

"Yeah, yeah..." You sighed, uncrossing your arms and choosing to lean against the hoe that you were holding, eyes completely focused on Alby and the new Greenie. To say you were curious would've been an understatement.

It was strange, you usually didn't have such a peaked interest in Greenies like this before. You felt yourself drawn to him, for some unknown reason. And another thing that was strange, your wrist tattoo had been tingling ever since he came up in the Box, but you just wrote that up as a coincidence. There was no way it could be correlated...right?

"Y/n!"

You turned to Alby, quickly making his way to you with almost angry expression on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Do you know the Greenie?" He asked, his expression not changing.

You furrowed your brows, a nervous chuckle escaping your lips. "Of course not, why would I?"

"Your name is on his wrist."

You froze, your confusion clearly etched on your face. "W-What?"

"You really don't know him? If your name is on his wrist, then I think it's pretty safe to assume that the name on your wrist is his."

"No, that's...impossible. I..." You were at a loss for words, how could this be happening? All this time, you just thought, maybe you had a partner before your memories got wiped and got their name tattooed; but now, you had no idea the hell was going on.

"The Greenie also claimed he didn't know where the tattoo came from, or who the name belonged to."

"You didn't tell him...about me?"

"No, not yet. I wanna keep this under wraps until we figure out what the shuck is happening here."

"But Alby, everyone knows about my tattoo, if someone sees his-"

"He's wearing a long sleeve. If he knows what's good for him he'll listen to me when I told him to cover it." Alby sighs, hardening his expression once more. "I swear, Y/n, if you know something about this-"

"I don't." You assured, you were just as confused as he was.

"The bonfire tonight will be a good opportunity to talk to the Greenie, everyone'll be too drunk to notice."

"Alby, you still trust me, right?"

"That remains to be seen."

The anxiety that you felt the rest of the day finally bubbled to the surface when the bonfire party started. You pretty much avoided the Greenie all day. You didn't know if you had any reason to be scared, but so many fears plagued your mind. So many "what ifs." But were sure nothing would be worse than having to wait to find out.

Looking over to see the Greenie and Newt sitting together away from the bonfire, Alby gave you a look, stern but not stern enough for you to feel threatened, although you still felt nervous.

Slowly walking over to the Greenie, you kept telling yourself over and over that this is the moment you've been waiting for ever since you were sent to the Glade, the moment you found out if this boy was the one who's name was permanently engraved onto your skin. You could finally have some sort of closure, maybe not complete, but just knowing would be enough.

You nervously cleared your throat, both boys looking your way as you stood above them. "Hey, Newt." You quickly started, "thought I'd introduce myself to the Greenie." You gave Newt a look that told him to leave the two of you alone.

Newt chuckled. "Right, of course. I think I'm gonna get myself another drink." And off he went, leaving you and the Greenie in an awkward silence, but more of an anxious silence on your part.

"Sorry I haven't introduced myself yet, been a busy day." You forced a smile, taking a seat next to the Greenie.

"Do you guys throw parties like this every time a new...Greenie shows up?" The boy asked, a slight bitter tone to his voice.

"Yeah, pretty much. We only really started this tradition a year ago, we thought we might as well celebrate another month of surviving here, also welcoming the newbies."

"Yeah, well, doesn't really feel like a warm welcome, despite the bonfire." You chuckled. "Are you...? Uh, never mind."

"No, what?"

"Well, just looking around, you seem to be the only girl here. Why is that?"

You shrugged. "Beats me. I came here just like everybody else, no memories. I wish I knew. Speaking of, have you remembered your name yet?"

The Greenie frowned. "No." He whispered, suddenly rubbing his sleeve covered wrist.

"What's wrong?" You asked, noticing his discomfort.

He sighed. "Uh, nothing. My wrist just hurts a little, might've sprained it or somethin'."

This was taking too long, and the bonfire party was starting to die down. It would be over soon, you had to speed this up.

"Alby told me..." You started, nervously taking a deep breath before continuing, "about your wrist."

The Greenie looked to you with wide eyes. "He told me to keep quiet about it, why would he tell you?"

"Because...the name on your wrist is mine."

He furrowed his brows, his mouth slightly agape, rolling up his sleeve slightly, just enough to see the top of the outline of your name. "Wait, really? How is that...?"

"I don't know. But I'm guessing," You rolled up your own sleeve, "this is your name?"

You held up your wrist, the light from the bonfire illuminating the ink enough for the Greenie to read what it said, "Thomas." Thomas' confused face mirrored your own, both of you feeling a strange mix of emotions all at once. He reached out, you flinching away slightly. "Can I?" He asked.

You nodded curtly, extending out your wrist for him to hold.

As soon as his skin made contact with yours, you felt a spark of electricity rush through your whole body, so intense that it made you jolt with a quiet gasp. Thomas seemed to have felt the same, his grip on your wrist tightening as he felt the same rush.

You suddenly felt like you were hit in the head with a brick, sharp flashes of images of you, but not in the Glade. These were different, you saw yourself smiling, laughing, with an older woman, smile lines and subtle wrinkles around her eyes, tuffs of greyish white hair scattered about in random spots amongst her lush natural colored hair. You instantly teared up...this was your mother...you remembered your mother.

"I remember." You and Thomas said at the exact same time.

"My name is Thomas." He confirmed, tears welling up in his golden brown eyes, giving them a shine. "I remember everything, my family, my friends, why I came here..."

"I remember my life before here too. I was...taken. They took me away from my mama." You quickly felt a surge of anger rush through you. "W.C.K.D. They did this."

Thomas sighed. "I know..." He took hold of both your hands. "I remember you too, Y/n." A slight rosy blush spreading across his cheeks.

"Me too." You said softly.

You both had worked at W.C.K.D. together, you both had the same distain for the company and wanting to take them down together, both of you being betrayed and sent here. You knew it was dangerous for W.C.K.D. to send you both to the same Maze trial, how could they make such a stupid mistake.

"We have to get everyone out of here, Thomas."

"We will."

"Together."

~~~~~~~~~~

Well, that escalated quickly. Hope you enjoyed it regardless, Anon😊

#the maze runner #tmr thomas #thomas x reader

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greenhappyseed · 3 years

Text

BnHA 322 - Parallels and comparisons

Not gonna lie — the first part of this arc was really rough. Luckily, from 317 onwards we’ve had some jaw dropping, beautiful moments. This chapter came on strong with ALL the feels and ALL the imagery. (I’m not going to post those images because they really need to be read fully in context.) Bakugo and Izuku as their elementary/middle/high school selves, standing on puddles of water instead of submerged in a river, Bakugo bowing to Izuku and addressing him by his real name, Bakugo essentially telling Izuku that he is — and always has been — a hero, Bakugo racing to catch Izuku with both arms when he falls, Bakugo’s war injury bleeding as he “reopens” his childhood wound.

Here’s the most impressive part to me: Bakugo courageously lays it all bare in front of the class without demanding that they “watch him” or be his audience. He no longer cares about being vulnerable in front of them, so if they happen to be there it’s fine, but he’s not apologizing FOR them or FOR him — it’s something he has to do for Izuku. Bakugo may still have his eyes set on surpassing All Might, but damn if he didn’t just surpass Enji. And Shoto fucking knows it.

After such intensity from Bakugo, I highkey love that we DON’T get an immediate reaction from Izuku. Instead, Izuku is inspired to offer his own mea culpa. (As always, Izuku looks up to and imitates Bakugo before thinking about himself.) The class just watched Bakugo apologize for his worst, and now they’ll watch Izuku apologize for HIS worst. I mean, Izuku said, OUT LOUD, the exact thing DvK2!Bakugo accused him of — looking down on others. If Bakugo can get past his bullshit and recognize Izuku’s heroism, Izuku can apologize for hurting his classmates and recognize their heroism. With everything out in the open, Bakugo and Izuku are no longer “proper rivals,” but TEAMMATES. There’s still a long way to go until they’re effective as a team with the rest of the class, but this is where the unity of the team begins. Kamino, the exact place where All Might ended, is now this team’s starting line, as Momo points out.

It’s also good to see the story acknowledge, again, that Izuku isn’t dark or edgy. He IS still the same sweet kid but AFO had him trapped in a loop. He was scared out of his mind that people would get hurt because of him and because of that he couldn’t think of a strategy to find and defeat AFO, but if he accepted help from others to come up with a strategy, then they could get hurt because of him… and around we go. This is the true terror of AFO, leaving no options for a zero-risk victory.

Next we jump to an unrecognizable UA fortified with most intense wall since Game of Thrones (because that wall was so good at keeping out the White Walkers /s). Look, we all know it’s gonna fail, but in the meantime I very much enjoy rat principal building an elaborate cage for his humans.

Also, sounds like we’ll soon see Shiketsu (Inasa! Camie! Hair dude! Meatball dude!) but no Ketsubutsu (Ms. Joke, Shindo, turtle girl). I still want to see Ms. Joke in the aftermath of the war, but I accept it’s probably not gonna happen.

It wasn’t clear from the text leaks, but looking at the images of the full chapter, it does seem Ochako’s going to try and confront the angry mob, which makes my brain think of scenes like this:

Which is to say, I have concerns this will go well. Yes, I know BNHA is a shonen, so the teens will change the world. But even within the BNHA world, suspension of disbelief is required when Present Mic, a popular radio host and pro hero who arrested Dr. Ujiko, is getting shit from the crowd. Of course, “heroes” as a group are at fault for the war, and Mic struggled with the media the last time UA was breached.

(But Mic does take a gentler approach with civilians vs the media.)

If civilians are in such a frenzy that they’re angry at Mic (who DID succeed at something notable during the war raid) and Deku (a child who fought in the war and has been rounding up Tartarus-level jail breakers ever since), then Ochako needs to BRING IT like it’s never been broughten before to make a difference. While she’s never had a major media stumble, and she’s adorable AF, giving inspirational speeches and rallying the class has never been her strength. If she suddenly blinds the crowd with brilliant oratory, it’s a bit of an ass pull for her character. Jiro and Momo have more depth in this space, though Momo’s elite background may not help in this particular situation. Ochako’s become much better at working the bureaucracy, from the entrance exam where she asked Present Mic to give her points to Izuku, to appealing to Nezu in order to bring Endeavor to UA for a confrontation about Deku.

If a crowd speech really is in store for us, then I’d love for it to involve All Might and/or Stain somehow. Both of them have incredible charisma and can inspire civilians to action. And I’ve written before about All Might’s media whoring [affectionate] being its own super power that the pro heroes are ignoring. Nobody in this arc (including Deku) has used All Might as a resource based on his decades of experience with the media OR with AFO. Why is everyone acting like All Might is useless because he’s quirkless and no longer a ranked hero? He's still got his brain and his memories. Does a "hero" need to wear a costume or hold a license to use their brain? As Kirishima says in this chapter:

Or maybe Aizawa will finally appear to defend his problem child, just like he defended Bakugo previously? (Admittedly, my solution for everything rn is “Aizawa” because I’m dying to see him.)

Anyway….I love that Ochako was inspired by Bakugo. Her face before/during/after the apology is amazing. You can watch her recognize his courage in real time and build on it, like links in a chain. Like a power that grows as each person contributes…….huh…….

Also, I think Izuku needs to hear Ochako talk openly about helping the heroes who protect the citizens. He doesn’t really understand her style of heroism yet, and he needs to see the strength of her ideals —especially the power of saving and rescuing — before he sets off to save Shigaraki. She also needs to tell him what happened to her in the war aftermath, because he doesn’t know any of it. How she fought Toga and how Toga cried. How she watched other heroes quit, and how she’s inspired to help heroes who are in pain. It would be great to see Ochako and Izuku bond over a shared desire to save heroes AND villains who are in pain.

Finally, I want to appreciate the Izuku-Iida-Kirishima trio for one more moment. In this chapter, Kirishima skids to a halt catching Izuku, just as he caught Bakugo for the initial escape from Kamino. In both instances, Kirishima’s understated but steady and unbreakable commitment to his friends was CLUTCH. So, so good!

#mha #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha 322 #mha 322 #bnha meta #mha meta #deku #bakugou katsuki #uraraka ochako #midoriya izuku #kirishima ejirou #iida tenya #present mic #yamada hizashi #I snuck as much Present Mic as I could in this post

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littlemisspascal · 4 years

Text

Death and an Angel part 13

Death!Din x Cupid F!Reader

Summary: Ahsoka takes Din on a journey through the past.

“You should know though, you might not like what you see.”

Din shakes his head, dismissing the warning. “What’s one more nightmare?”

Rating: T

Word Count: 5,958

Warnings: angst, swearing, character death (canonical, but with my own twist), made up planet name that is ridiculous, dialogue heavy, plot plot plot, backstory

Author Note: Good lord this is soooo late coming out. To anyone who sent me an encouraging message I am beyond grateful because I really needed the encouragement to finish this segment. I hope more than anything this segment gives more answers than it raises questions (although reading your theories is both awesome and entertaining so keep them coming too!)

Links to Part 1 and Part 12 and Part 14

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

“Who the fuck is Moff Gideon?”

Ahsoka looks at Din, her brow furrowed deeply. He’s seen the expression on her face enough times to recognize its meaning: this is the face she makes when she is about to reveal a message directly from the universe itself. As an Oracle, she is the only immortal who can glimpse details of the past, present, and future. She has a soft spot for mortals, sharing the few precious snippets the universe allows her to with them in the forms of riddles and vague prophecies that never fail to give Din a migraine with their crypticness when he hears them.

“Moff Gideon is a Seraph who grew discontent with his position amongst immortals,” she says at last.

“Is he the one responsible for keeping my soulmate from me?” he asks, voice as harsh and unforgiving as the environment surrounding them.

“He is responsible for many sins.”

“I don’t have time for your vague answers,” he growls, hands twisting into fists. “You tell me not to kill this Seraph, then in the next breath claim he’s a threat. I am not a mortal who will be entertained by riddles, Ahsoka. You summoned me here to talk, so start talking. Tell me what you know.”

The Oracle’s mouth purses into a thin line. Nearly a full minute passes before she speaks again. When she does, the calmness is no longer natural, but forced. “Telling you what I know would be impossible.”

“Ahsoka—”

“But,” she pitches her voice higher than his protest while narrowing her eyes disapprovingly, “I am capable of showing you. You should know though, you might not like what you see.”

Din shakes his head, dismissing the warning. “What’s one more nightmare?”

She reaches forward, pressing her index and middle fingers to the center of his visor. If not for his helmet, she’d be touching the space directly between his eyes and instinct tells him the positioning isn’t random.

“We’ll start at the beginning,” she says, but her voice has changed from its usual cadence. It is ancient and youthful, a harsh scream and a hushed whisper all at once.

Din has only the slightest of seconds to process this in addition to the way her facial markings start to glow and her eyes flash white before he finds himself standing in the midst of a crisis.

There is mass hysteria every direction he turns. People screaming in terror, pushing each other and tripping over those who have fallen in their haste to flee an unseen threat; whole buildings are crumbling, sending flaming debris and shards of glass raining down upon the streets as smoke billows into the sky. The edges of his field of view are blurred, like he’s looking at everything through someone’s glasses, and it creates an ache behind his eyeballs. Fuck, is this what it’s like for Ahsoka when she experiences visions?

‘You remember the Fall of Mandalore, don’t you, Death?’ Ahsoka’s voice resonates from deep inside his brain, as if she’s fused her consciousness with his.

His jaw tightens when he says, “Of course.”

‘Oh, look. There you are.’

Sure enough, when Din looks forward he sees himself moving swiftly through the crowd, unaffected by the chaos as he stoops to reap the soul of a woman who’s had her skull caved in by the stampede of frantic civilians. He wonders how many others can say they’ve had an out-of-body-experience such as what he’s dealing with right now: reliving a traumatic event all over again while observing himself the same way a stranger would from a distance.

“Why are you showing me this?”

‘Because it’s important,’ Ahsoka answers, and the image of her frowning face enters his mind unbiddenly. ‘The universe has a plethora of endings imagined for every civilization, but it is the individual choices of the community that act as stepping stones bringing them closer to a specific fate.’

“Mandalore was always meant to fall apart. It was just a matter of how, not when,” he surmises, voice devoid of emotion. His words are punctuated by another fiery blast from a nearby complex, followed by an ear-piercing wall of a terrified child.

‘Precisely. But the same cannot be said for an individual’s lifespan. There are consequences if someone perishes before their time has come. You should know that better than anyone.’ There is a hint of accusation thinly veiled in her tone that has his body tensing reflexively.

His location shifts, shapes and colors mixing together without warning before another scene gradually comes into focus. It’s a large chamber with sparse furnishings, but its beauty is tarnished by the copious amounts of glass littering the room as every single one of the ornately designed windows have been shattered from the force of the explosions outside. Din knows before he even lays eyes on the throne he’s inside the royal palace because he first sees the familiar face of his most trusted reaper standing next to a blond-haired woman. Both women have such strikingly similar facial features nobody who sees them side by side can have any doubt they are related.

Whereas Bo-Katan dons gray-and-blue armor with a jetpack strapped to her back and two blaster pistols holstered at her sides, her sister, Satine, wears a garnet colored dress with a gold belt wrapped around her slender waist. In this moment, the sisters differ from each other as much as night and day; one a military leader, the other a pacifistic duchess.

“You need someone here to protect you. We don’t know who or what we’re dealing with and it isn’t safe for you to be alone,” Bo-Katan argues, crossing her arms over her chest as if to intimidate her sister into submitting.

“Our people are scared and defenseless, Bo. They need your protection during this crisis more than I currently do,” Satine says, voice soft but firm in a way only those deeply involved in politics can master.

Bo-Katan glances out the broken windows at the burning city, stubborn loyalty to protect her sister warring with her duty to protect her people. “Then at least send a message to Obi-Wan to come here.”

Satine shakes her head. “Bo—”

“I know things are strained between you two right now—”

“That’s a glaring understatement.”

“—but he’s one of our best and most loyal guards. He’s proven more than a dozen times he’ll fight anyone who’s a threat to you.”

“I don’t need the reminder of what he’s done for me.”

Bo-Katan places a hand on the blonde’s shoulder and squeezes it when she says, “He’s the only one other than myself I trust to protect you if you were to encounter danger.”

“Just because I’m committed to peace does not mean I am incapable of looking after myself.” Satine reaches behind herself to detach a weapon that had been clipped to the back of her belt. She clicks a button on its hilt, emitting a white blade shining brightly like a beacon amongst the dark clouds of smoke tainting the air.

Din’s breath catches in his throat. “Is that…?”

‘The Lightsaber of Mandalore,’ Ahsoka confirms. ‘Made by the Armorer herself.’

The Armorer is deeply respected by both mortals and immortals alike. As the goddess of metalworking and blacksmiths, there is nothing she cannot forge and infuse with grand powers. However, she is exceedingly cautious about choosing who is a recipient of her creations.

Din is one such recipient, having been given his armor of pure beskar when the Armorer realized how dangerous his touch was to mortals. He remains eternally grateful for the gift not only because it prohibits unwanted physical contact, but also because it is invulnerable to damage or rust like other types of armor. Ahsoka’s dual sabers were also made in the Armorer’s forge, specifically designed for the Oracle’s grip alone and meant to protect her during her journeys throughout the galaxy, but in contrast to the white blade of the Lightsaber, the blades of Ahsoka’s weapons matched the same blue coloring as the stripes on her lekku and montrals.

According to the legends Din’s heard, the Armorer created the Lightsaber for the first ruler of Mandalore because she was impressed with their culture and strong military, and it was passed on to each new heir to the throne over the centuries. When wielded in battle, the Lightsaber made the user invincible against enemy attacks as it siphoned off energy from the souls of those it sliced through.

Throughout the long history of Mandalore, Satine was distinguished as the only ruler to avoid warfare as she sincerely believed negotiations and treaties could solve any problem quicker than bloodshed.

As such, Din isn’t surprised when Bo-Katan raises a judgmental eyebrow. “Did you forget who you’re talking to? I know you wouldn’t use the Lightsaber even to cut a piece of fruit.”

Satine sighs through her nose, sheathing the weapon once more. “Fine. I’ll contact Obi the second you’re gone.”

“You better.” Bo-Katan leans forward, pressing her forehead against her sister’s. A gesture of affection within their culture. “I’ll see you soon.”

And then she’s gone, flying out the nearby window and diving straight into the fray. As a mortal and as a reaper, the redhead is fearless in the face of danger. Some might consider the behavior reckless, but Din’s always been impressed by her dogged tenacity to achieve victory no matter the difficulty of her mission.

Din looks back at Satine. Now that she is alone in the room, she is able to freely express her distress at the unfolding situation, looking as if she’s aged ten years within the blink of an eye. She fiddles with the comlink around her wrist, seeming hesitant to call this Obi-Wan fellow like she agreed to.

‘They haven’t realized it, but they’re soulmates, ’ Ahsoka murmurs, low and melancholic. Hearing it makes Din’s chest constrict with unease. ‘They fought recently and parted ways upset with each other. Unfortunately, she dies before they can resolve their miscommunication.’

The next sequence of events play out startlingly quick, as if Ahsoka has chosen to suddenly jump forward in time. His eyes struggle to absorb the fleeting details—the doors to the throne room being blown open; a Seraph in black armor emerging from the smoke; his voice is unique, velvety and thorny at the same time, as he addresses the duchess by her full name Satine Kryze; Satine attempting to stall as she subtly taps at her comlink, only for the tactic to fail as the foe teleports closer, eliminating the space between them.

“You have something I want,” he tells her, seizing hold of her throat. “You may think you have some idea of what you have in your possession, but you do not.”

One of Satine’s hands claws at his face, attempting to gouge out his eyeballs with her nails, while the other reaches for the Lightsaber. Her fingertips brush against its metal hilt just as he throws her to the floor. The impact knocks the breath out of her lungs, eliciting a strangled gasp, and shards of glass dig into her exposed skin, dotting the pale flesh with beads of blood.

Gideon—Din doesn’t need Ahsoka’s input to know this, for who else could the Seraph be but him?—places the heel of his boot over Satine’s neck. He doesn’t apply pressure yet, but the action in itself has the duchess squirming with panic, hitting at his leg futilely. There is a red light on the comlink flashing insistently, indicating someone on the other end is speaking but they’ve been muted.

“Give me the asset I seek.”

Through clenched teeth, Satine wheezes, “It belongs to Mandalore.”

“I thought you might say that,” Gideon replies, feigning disappointment. “However, in case you haven’t noticed Duchess,” he gestures towards the windows, “Mandalore is dead. My accomplices have made sure of that.”

“You’re a coward for hiding behind others. You don’t deserve the Lightsaber.”

There is a sudden change in the atmosphere, air turning impossibly frigid and crisp.

“I deserve it more than anyone,” Gideon says, angry enough he is trembling. The Seraph’s stance shifts, and although Din has witnessed every type of brutal death imaginable, he flinches at the sound of Satine’s neck snapping beneath his heel.

Gideon rolls her lifeless body over and rips the Lightsaber off her belt, a satisfied smirk on his face. He disappears as quickly as he arrived, reward in hand, and an eerie silence envelops the room. It’s almost as if the palace itself is stunned by the loss of its ruler, struggling to make sense of the merciless act of violence.

Time skips forward again, showing a young bearded-man dressed in military armor clutching at Satine’s body, pressing his forehead against hers as he weeps. Over and over he keeps murmuring apologies for not being quicker, for failing to be there when she needed him, for never saying he loved her.

“How do you know Satine and Obi-Wan are soulmates if they never matched?” Din asks, feeling like he’s intruding on a private moment despite not actually being there.

He thinks of a similarly phrased question he’d asked his angel on their way to Sorgan what feels like entire lifetimes ago: how will I know it’s my soulmate? Her eloquent response remains embedded deep in his memory, safely stored away along with every other moment they’ve spent together. Longing twists like a knife in his side as he allows himself a second of weakness to look at the soulmate marking on his palm.

‘I saw the life they were going to share,’ Ahsoka tells him. ‘Satine Kryze was not meant to die here. She and Obi-Wan should have both survived the Fall of Mandalore, settling down happily with each other elsewhere in the galaxy. Gideon’s greed altered their destinies.’

The palace fades away to reveal a much older Obi-Wan, gray-haired and wrinkled. He’s in Mos Eisley; Din recognizes the crowded spaceport instantly having taken his ship there for repairs numerous times over the years.

‘The universe puts a lot of effort into making sure soulmates match with each other at a very precise moment. Even if the match is rejected, the individuals still had an important impact on each other’s lives. Timing is the most important factor for a soulmate pairing, and if it’s off then the universe will attempt to fix it.’

Obi-Wan stops to help a woman who’s accidentally dropped her shopping bag, contents spilling out onto the sandy ground. She thanks him as he offers her a polite smile, both of their attentions on each other’s faces and not their hands. More specifically: their marked hands. There is the barest brush of their fingertips as they reach for the same item before an invisible blast of energy erupts from their touch, splitting them apart and sending every person and thing surrounding them flying in all directions.

The shock on Obi-Wan’s face matches Din’s own beneath his helmet. He remembers his angel telling him after the failed match with Omera what happened on Sorgan wasn’t the first time an event like that occurred, but she hadn’t been privy to the details. Her superior had told her she wasn’t high enough ranking which Din had thought sounded like a load of bantha shit at the time.

“Ahsoka, what is the meaning of this?” Din asks the questions quietly, but there’s an audible coating of frustration that he knows she won’t miss. “Satine’s dead.”

‘You didn’t reap her soul,’ Ahsoka says. It’s said as a gentle reminder, but it nevertheless has Din feeling like the ground has disappeared beneath his feet as realization dawns.

“I...didn’t.”

A quiet sigh echoes through his head. ‘I forgot how ignorant you can be. You can’t reap a mortal soul that transforms into a new entity.’

“She’s a Cupid,” Din murmurs. Either that or a reaper, but he knows each of his reapers like the back of his hand and Satine isn’t nor has she ever been one. He shakes his head, thinking of Obi-Wan finding Satine’s body in the throne room. “That doesn’t make any sense. Obi-Wan clearly loved her.”

‘Rejection can sometimes stem from a misunderstanding. Satine’s last living encounter with Obi-Wan was him saying so long as he was part of the royal guard they had no future together. She perceived this as him denying he cared about her, not knowing he had made plans to retire in order to ask for her hand.’

In front of Din, Obi-Wan rubs at his soulmate marking while staring at the mess around him, lines of unease and confusion creasing his forehead.

‘You asked, what is the meaning of this moment?’ Ahsoka continues. ‘It’s one of the universe’s attempts to reconnect Obi-Wan and Satine so they experience their matching as they were intended to.’

“But they’re of different statuses,” he points out needlessly. “She’ll outlive him.”

‘Yes, but the matching of soulmates not only influences the lives of the pair, but the lives of other people as well in ways both obvious and invisible. Think of it as a ripple effect.’

“Did the universe’s attempt work?” Din wonders. “Were they ever reunited?”

‘When Satine awoke as a Cupid, it was a surprise to both her and Gideon. Rather than kill her a second time, the Seraph chose to inflict a worse fate. She became the first of her kind to have her memories erased. However, he’d never previously used his ability on another immortal before, resulting in him nearly wiping her entire mind clean. The universe is capable of many miracles, big and small, but every attempt of reuniting the pair failed. It remains the universe’s most profound regret which is ultimately the reason why the universe brought you to Trinomliaxeros without your armor so that history wouldn’t repeat itself.’

There is a strange, heavy feeling that suddenly inflates within the confines of Din’s chest like a balloon. It’s different from the rampant anger he can still detect simmering beneath the skin of his human façade. He tries to shake it off, focusing on his breathing and the desert heat emanating from the twin suns overhead, only to slowly realize that what he’s feeling is fear.

Within his memory he can recall just one other distinct moment in his existence where he felt this spine-chilling emotion, and that moment was experienced on Trinomliaxeros.

“What did you just say?” His voice sounds shaky even to his own ears, but he can’t find any energy within himself to care.

A long stretch of silence fills his head; it’s the fragile kind, too, preventing him from snapping at Ahsoka to answer lest she become angry at him and yank him out the vision entirely.

‘Twice the timing of a soulmate match has been disturbed. The first pair affected was Obi-Wan and Satine. And the second pair was...’

“Ahsoka,” he says when she hesitates to continue, but any additional words he can think of saying catch in the back of his throat.

‘The second pair was you and your angel.’ Another pause of silence, shorter but no less meaningful. ‘Only fifty years ago, she wasn’t an angel.’

This is what Din remembers from Trinomliaxeros: feeling a pull so forceful, impatient and unanticipated it drags him across the galaxy in his civilian clothes, arriving to find the planet engulfed in smoke, unable to see his hand in front of his face, even without his gloves on. Finding skeletal remains burnt to blackened crisps with the souls inside shaking and traumatized, practically leaping into his outstretched hand, knowing either the afterlife or damnation would be better destinations than lingering there even a second longer. Explosions in the distance, bursts of flames as intense and hot as the sun, greedily consuming everything in their radius.

Out of the smoke and darkness, a survivor. A girl, covered in soot and sweat, colliding with his chest. The dead are calling out to him, pleading for him to reap them, to save them. Their voices swirl around his head, clawing at his brain and pounding against his skull. Shoving the girl aside, one foot in front of the other, letting his powers guide him to the next soul. Her voice cuts across the distance, a plasma bolt striking him in the back. We’re soulmates, she says.

His breath stills in his lungs. Fear spreads like a virus through his bloodstream, slipping beneath his defenses, turning him into a stranger within his own body. The declaration is a lie, an impossibility, a delusion. He has no match, hands unmarked, flesh poisonous and lethal. His words, too, are weapons themselves. Sharp, ruthless, desiring to wound her as she’s wounded him. You could never be my soulmate.

And then he’d left her.

This is what Din remembers. But, he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut so tightly it hurts, I’ve remembered everything all wrong.

Phantom hands gently press against the sides of his helmet, offering comfort without caring about the dried blood. He keeps his eyes shut, knowing it’s just a manifestation crafted by Ahsoka in his head. ‘Don’t blame yourself. This was the only viable outcome the universe could produce to ensure the bad timing would be remedied in the future,’ she says, but it does little to lessen the weight on his chest. ‘Your rejection saved her life. It granted you both a second chance of a first meeting.’

“How did—” Din struggles to string words together, to fucking breathe. “She—She knew. What we were. How…?”

The Oracle puts him out of his misery. ‘She found out the way all soulmates do: through touch.’

Din’s eyes fly open at that, and he has to blink a few times to bring everything into focus because there’s him and his angel right in front of him, frozen mid-collision. She’s grasping the sleeves of his coat to keep her balance, the palm of her marked hand touching his wrist. He stares at the point of contact for a moment, then barks out a laugh, hysterical and strangled sounding.

“That’s not possible.”

‘Soulmates can’t kill each other. She’s always been meant to withstand your touch.’

Din swallows thickly, staring at his angel’s face. He hates the question forming on his tongue, but it will haunt him the rest of his life if he doesn’t ask it. “In your visions, when I meet her at the right time, what happens?”

'You’re different by then, less broody and more accepting of the notion you could be loved. You have a soulmate marking,’ Ahsoka tells him. ‘You fall for her hard, even before your hands brush. You love her throughout the entirety of her lifetime.’

“And...when she dies?” The words taste like blood in his mouth.

‘Don’t torture yourself, Death. That timeline doesn’t exist anymore.’

For one brief, fleeting second Din is actually grateful Gideon altered their destinies. However, in the next, he’s trying not to let the fear gnawing at the back of his mind increase as it belatedly occurs to him that the universe is not as infallible as he’s always believed it was.

He wishes he could see Ahsoka, if only so he could glare at her directly. “Everything you’ve shown me has only further convinced me Gideon deserves death. Why have you asked me to promise not to kill him?”

'Do you remember what happens after this moment on Trinomliaxeros?’

Din frowns at the change of subject. “I continued to reap souls.”

'Yes. And then?’

He huffs a frustrated breath through his nose. This is Ahsoka, he thinks, at her most annoying. But, as much he loathes admitting it, this is also the most helpfully transparent she’s ever been. Today may be the only time she trusts him enough to share her visions. He owes it to her to be as open as she’s being with him.

That being said, he’s still wary of the memories he’s kept in the distant, shadowy corners of his mind being pulled into the spotlight. “Tell me we’re not gonna talk about the kid.”

‘We talked about the universe’s biggest regret. It’s only fair we talk about yours too.’ Ahsoka has found the crack in his armor he’s tried so long to conceal, peeling it open without remorse.

She doesn’t spare him time to argue. All he does is blink and he’s looking at his past self locked in a staring contest with a little green-skinned child who is propped up inside a floating, orb-shaped pram.

Of all the buildings and homes on the planet, only its temple had remained untouched by the destruction. Din didn’t know if it had been the structure’s own holy foundation keeping it standing or if it was the personal choice of the mastermind behind the attack, but he’d been drawn to it regardless, finding souls there to reap whose hosts had differed from other victims in that their throats had been slit. The walls of the temple were adorned with intricate murals depicting immortal figures and religious events of ancient history, but before he could observe the artwork closer, a quiet coo had stopped him in his tracks.

When he opened the pram, he hadn’t anticipated finding a baby of all creatures. When their eyes connected, every background noise abruptly ceased. Even the voices of the dead fell silent. Rather than rouse his suspicions, Din had felt only a sense of peace he usually only experienced in the midst of hyperspace travel where the stars were his voiceless companions.

An unspoken conversation transpired between the two of them, one Din still can’t translate into words all these years later, but it concluded with him knowing he would take the child with him.

Din had reached for him unthinkingly, the child lifting his arms up in eagerness to be held, but self-awareness kicked in right before contact and Din retracted his hands away so fast it startled the child into crying, brown eyes filling with tears. Panicked, he surveyed the room, looking for something to put an end to the wailing, before looking down at his own coat, experiencing a lightbulb moment.

“Alright, kid, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Watching his past self shrug off the coat, Din remembers it had been his favorite of his civilian clothes, well worth the cost for its soft fabric and length. He managed to successfully swaddle the child, ensuring his arms were safely tucked away to prevent him endangering his life, and Din exhaled a quiet breath of relief when the tears dried up almost immediately.

However, the ensuing silence wasn’t as peaceful as the previous one. Both past and present Din turn at the sound of distant shuffling echoing off the temple walls from another room.

“Ignore it,” Din tells his past self. “Just take the kid and leave.”

But his plea goes unheard and the past remains unchanged. Ahsoka is silent inside his head, either because she knows he won’t accept any more comforting words or because she thinks he’s undeserving of them for choosing to leave the child behind in his pram, closing it when he starts to whine again, so Din can go investigate the noise.

Din exhales a quiet breath, fingers twitching restlessly at his sides as he watches himself stalk through the temple halls, checking each room he comes across. It’s strange, seeing himself from this perspective. The distanced viewpoint allows Din to glimpse new details he hadn’t been capable of noticing back then.

Such as the reappearance of a familiar Seraph emerging from the shadows to stab him in the back.

Here’s one of the perks about being Death: he can’t be killed. That fact doesn’t mean there haven’t been attempts though. As Death, people sometimes look at his armor as a challenge. Like if they can fire a shot or throw a knife at just the right angle, it’ll wound him and allow them to live longer. Simply put, all those people are idiots.

When he looks like a regular, unintimidating civilian, he’s also been involved in violent predicaments where someone’s attempted to mug him or where he’s tried to save someone else from a similarly sticky situation.

Armor or no armor though, he’s always walked away from these encounters completely unscathed.

Well. With the sole exception of Trinomliaxeros where he was mostly unscathed.

It wasn’t the first time Din had been stabbed before. Usually knife wounds felt like a mild pinch. More irritating than painful, similar to a splinter stuck in one’s thumb. Once the weapon was removed, the damage healed within seconds, leaving behind no scar or proof he was ever attacked.

Usually, is the keyword to note here.

Ahsoka freezes time right when the blade of the Lightsaber is driven straight through the center of Din’s body, bone and flesh as easy to slice through as melted butter. His agonized expression—eyes screwed shut and lips open in a silent scream—would be comical if Din didn’t remember the exact emotions he was feeling in that moment.

Instead of a pinch, it’d felt as if thousands of invisible hands were pulling and scratching at him, attempting to strip apart his human exterior layer by layer—peeling off skin, scraping away muscle and bone marrow, seeking to reach the core of himself where his powers resided.

‘Looks like it hurts,’ Ahsoka says. The return of her naturally calm and neutral tone of voice seems almost cruel given the frozen, graphic display.

Din again wishes he could glare at her. “Is this funny to you?”

‘The transformation of the Lightsaber into the Darksaber is anything but funny.’

Lost in recollection, he failed to notice until now how the blade of the Lightsaber has changed in color from white to black. It’s the same inky hue that absorbs the brown in his eyes, that had dyed his veins during the execution of Hess.

‘The Armorer specifically instructed the Lightsaber only be used against enemies. As a neutral entity, you are, by definition, no one’s ally or adversary. By stabbing you, the saber became corrupted. It is a consequence Gideon still has yet to fully realize the monumental repercussions of.’

Time resumes, Din’s past self collapsing onto the floor, pressing a hand to the throbbing hole in his chest, attention too consumed by the franticness of his powers struggling to repair the trauma to notice Gideon lingering behind him. The Seraph’s stunned look of shock lasts barely ten seconds, morphing into one of deep contemplation as his gaze flicked between the weapon and Din, before he vanished.

When Din recovered enough to stand, he teleported back to the child’s location at once. He needs to get the little guy as far away from here as possible, somewhere peaceful and safe. His planning came to an abrupt halt upon finding the pram open and empty, his coat shredded and scattered about the floor in pieces.

“Gideon took him.” It isn’t a question.

‘Yes,’ she confirms. ‘The child was the intended target of this siege.’

“Why?”

‘He’s...very special.’ There is something about how her voice hitches when she says ‘special’ that has Din’s instincts prickling with alertness, but he holds his tongue. ‘Gideon considers him a tool he can take advantage of.’

The ugly, tight mass of anger swells inside of him and presses against his lungs, resulting in a low growl slipping out of his mouth. He curses his own ineptitude. If he’d paid more attention, hadn’t allowed himself to be wounded, he could have subdued Gideon and spared both his angel and the child from being captured.

“I warned you once upon a time, there would be consequences if you released your darkness,” Ahsoka says, her voice no longer emitting from inside his head. The vision fades back into reality the same sudden, jarring way one wakes up from dreaming. It takes all of Din’s self-restraint not to perform a full-body shake. “Your control is slipping as your rage increases. It’s making you not think clearly which is exactly what Gideon wants. That is the reason I am asking you to promise you will not kill him.”

Put like that, Din no longer thinks her request sounds quite so outlandish, even though he does still remain in the dark as to what consequences exactly will unfold. Ahsoka has remained stubbornly tight-lipped about the topic from their very first encounter, claiming the universe is adamant she can only share the details with one other person and it isn’t him.

“He deserves to die for all he’s done,” Din says quietly, but he’s self-aware to know his resistance is beginning to crumble.

“Between you and me, I think so, too,” she admits in the same low tone. Her ocean eyes are dark and stormy, reflecting her internal turmoil. “But rules are made for a reason and we would be fools to carelessly overlook the consequences of breaking them.”

The accusatory note from earlier has returned with a vengeance. He’s not surprised—of course the universe would utilize the Oracle to express its disapproval—but aggravation still thrums through his veins.

“Hess played a hand in my soulmate’s fate. He called her a whore.” Din’s upper lip twitches with the urge to snarl. “I don’t regret what I did to him.”

Ahsoka sighs. “I was afraid you’d say that. When you swore your creed, you promised the universe you’d only reap a soul when their host’s time has reached its destined end. By killing Hess, you not only broke a sacred rule, you also broke your creed.”

Din recoils, feeling like he’s been stabbed with the Lightsaber all over again.

“...What?” The anger is gone, extinguished by the weight of the revelation. Confusion and wariness are quick to fill the void. “What does that mean?”

She looks away then, but not quick enough to hide her troubled expression. “I...don’t know.”

He blinks, mind scrambling to understand the implications. “Isn’t that your purpose? To know everything?”

“For the very first time, the future’s unclear to me,” she murmurs, eyes briefly turning cloudy as if she’s trying to take a peek at the potential timelines right then and there. She shakes her head a beat later, frowning. “There are many choices left to be made, each one capable of influencing the fate of the galaxy. It is not possible at this time for me to predict our upcoming reality, let alone your consequences. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Din says, because it’s the truth and he doesn’t like seeing her crestfallen expression. Fuck, he might actually consider her a friend after all.

Whatever happens, he thinks to himself, it can’t be any worse to deal with than being separated from his soulmate. If he can survive this, he can survive anything.

“The last promise I made was broken.” He bites back a wince at the memory of his angel’s pinky promise. “But if making another one is the only way you’ll take me to my soulmate, then you have my word. I won’t kill him.”

A ghost of a smile pulls at her lips before she grabs hold of one of his vambraces. “Take me to your ship. I will guide you to her location.”

“You don’t trust me to go alone?” he asks, unsure whether to be amused or indignant.

“No,” Ahsoka replies bluntly.

Din huffs. “Fine.”

“I may not be able to see much at the moment, but I know it’s never wise to turn down support. You’re going to need us.”

“Us?”

“It’s Bo-Katan’s choice to make, but you and I both know she’s never been one to back down from a fight. Especially once she learns Gideon is her sister’s murderer.”

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