#sea of douchebags

[dragonagitator]

autotrading in Sea of Douchebags be like

(this is probably the most niche joke I have ever made in my entire life)

[podcast-hemocytoblast]

By the time cars were invented, Jonah Magnus was already well into the body hopping game, which raises the question: has he ever actually learn to drive? Did this man sit through driver’s ed? Or has he just been getting out of legal repercussions for his shit driving by telling the cops everything he knows about their deepest darkest secrets every time he gets pulled over?

[mmelolabelle]

“Ares…is a moron.”

I honestly don’t think that anyone is more amused by the whole “this douchebag decided to try and fight the child of the sea god on a fucking beach” of it all than Poseidon.

[moonspower]

✨ split the circle and draw a heart / i get splashed once again.

animal familiar.

🌙 Dolphin.

Known for its playful and upbeat nature, the Dolphin is in fact one of the smartest animals, besides humans. Their sometimes accepting behavior around us has lead to them as being a symbol of protection and kindness. Like the Dolphin, you are a very creative and cheery individual, but intelligent as well. You don't overthink things, instead trusting your intuition and enjoying life as it is. However, if someone is hurting you or others, you don't back down, and are brave enough to stand up and face the threat. A Dolphin familiar helps guide their master to the right decision, show the optimistic side of things, and inspire them in ideas or goals.

✨ TAGGED BY: :) stolen. ✨ TAGGING: do it if u wanna!!!

[julietsbody]

innocence — modern ! coriolanus snow + reader : your friends ask you to get some drugs from the local dealer, but you never expect he would take a liking to you.

tags : 18+!!! MDNI!!! drug dealing ! coryo, drugs, praise kink, overprotective behavior, possessive behavior, porn with feelings, p in v sex, fingering, special treatment

coriolanus snow hated parties, they were loud, and the people were insufferable— but he needed the money from the things he sold. cocaine, weed, even some ecstasy. whatever the people wanted, whatever helped support his grandmother and cousin. they weren’t living in the most luxury like all the other people who held parties in these neighborhoods, so that’s why coriolanus attended them, they always paid the most.

he typically got douchebags or stuck - up pretty girls, they both always paid him in crumpled up ones that he took forever to straighten out and count— what a bunch of assholes.

what he never expected, though, was you, coming up to the man dressed in a korn shirt and baggy jeans with a bow in your hair as well as wearing a pretty dress. your doe eyes peered up at him when you tapped his shoulder, he turned, eyes slotting down to meet yours, “hey.”

“hi,” you hesitate, cute, “i.. do you sell drugs?”

he clears his throat, “sorry?”

“do you—“

“probably shouldn’t repeat yourself, doll,” he tips his head up, “i do, are you buying?“

“just for my friends, yeah,” you smile shyly at him, and he returns it.

you’re so innocent, had you ever done any drugs before? definitely not the ones he sells, maybe the weed, but cocaine or ecstasy? no, no way. if it were for you, he wouldn’t be selling you it anyway. coriolanus had a certain soft spot, if you will, for the innocent girls that wander up to him at parties with their batting eyelashes and naturally pouted lips.

“alright, let’s go upstairs,” he tips his head to the stairs, chuckling when you move to give a thumbs up to your friends before following after him, “why do they make you ask for them?”

he suddenly moves back to grab your wrist when the halls find themselves crowded, not wanting to lose you in the sea of people, nor you lose him. you were a client, a customer, and he always treats his customer this way.

loud incorrect buzzer.

he doesn’t!

coriolanus never dares to allow himself to sweeten up around his customers, or anyone, but something about your shy, deer like attitude— it had a wolf wanting to protect.

“they say they’re too nervous to do it themselves,” you finally answer when he leads you into the nearest empty room, closing the door behind you.

he finally lets go of your wrist, “that so? what are they askin’ for?”

“cocaine,” you swallow.

“then they’re not nervous,” he chuckles, having to deal with his fair share of cocaine users, none of them are nervous to approach him, “why do you let them push you around?”

he moves to sit on the bed, chopping up the cocaine from his pocket on the nightstand next to him. he typically doesn’t like when his customers stand over him, because he never knows what they will do, and he likes to be in control at all times— but you’re harmless, aren’t you? just a little deer.

you exhale a nervous laugh, “they’re not pushing me around, they’re just asking me for favors.”

he hums, eyes peering up at you as his hands absentmindedly work on the pearl powder, it was muscle memory for him at this point. “you promise you’re not doing this shit, too?”

“i promise,” your lips tip up to a curt smile, “it’s really.. scary, honestly.”

he exhales, eyes trailing over the curves of your face before they meet the nightstand again, swiping the powdered sugar like substance into a little baggie. you watch him, almost admiring, “yeah. it is really scary, dangerous, too— don’t want you doin’ this shit too.”

a warm feeling courses through your veins, you hardly realize he’s holding the baggies out for you until he clears his throat, you blink a few times, quickly trying to grasp the money you had— it wasn’t given to you by your friends to spend for them, it was just your own money. how cruel.

“it’s on the house,” he quickly says, almost unaware of what he was saying himself until it finally passes his lips.

you bat your lashes at him, “what—“

“free, doll, just take it,” he allows himself a faint smile.

you hesitantly reach to take the baggies, “are you sure…?”

he nods, “‘m positive.”

“thank you, snow,” his eyebrows furrow at how sweet his name sounds on your tongue, like nectar delivered by the kindest dove from the gods.

you turn to leave, but he quickly stands, “hey—“ he pauses, eyes sweeping over your figure as he tries to figure out what to say, you probably go to millions of parties with your asshole friends, possibly with other dealers.. “some other dealers are gonna try to rip you off, make you pay a lot for a little bit— so just, come to me and i’ll treat you good as long as you’re staying out of trouble, princess.”

“okay, i will,” you nod quickly.

“good girl.”

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

you don’t see coriolanus for a while after that night, it has been no more than a few days, less than a week but the idea of you is rotting in his brain and eating him whole from the inside out. at every party he went to, every girl with a bow in their hair (he despises that it’s the latest trend) or wearing a baby pink dress reminds him of you. with their fluttering lashes and soft smiles, god, he hates that he sees you in every one of them. he hates that you have completely plagued his entire conscience, but yet he never complains about it, not once.

sometimes, sejanus, one of the other known dealers, though he more so considers himself a look - out when coriolanus is selling, or a promoter for coriolanus’ business— he notices how coriolanus’ eyes linger more than usual on the women at parties, it almost makes him laugh, or tease coriolanus.

isn’t he supposed to be intimidating? not a man easily falling for women.

a lover boy, that’s what he seemed like now.

sejanus swishes around his drink in his cup, eyes falling to coriolanus, “what’s up with you?”

coriolanus blinks once, twice, “what are you talking about?”

“you haven’t blinked in like an hour,” sejanus liked to overexaggerate, “are you okay?”

“of course i am,” he scoffs, “‘m gonna find arachne.”

arachne, sejanus’ best friend, albeit she talks so much shit about him behind his back. sejanus is sweet, passive, and arachne is the complete opposite. some would call arachne a maneater, coriolanus thinks of her as a conceited bitch who needs to be put on a leash. she had a tendency to run off whenever she went to parties with coriolanus and sejanus, so coriolanus always had to run after her to try and find her.

sejanus nods, offering a small i’ll look too.

coriolanus allows sejanus to walk the opposite way as he turns the corner, eyes scanning each room for a brunette with a bold red lip. he doesn’t find her anywhere, god, she better not be having sex in one of the rooms upstairs like how she was last time. coriolanus likes to think opening that door to that sight was something out of a horror movie.

he does find a different brunette, though, with more golden tones and curlier hair.

festus creed, of fucking course creed is here. he was another one of the other well known dealers in the area. he wasn’t that well with his sells, mostly because he acts like he’s above everyone else in the worst way possible, and even allows people to pay with sex.

coriolanus heard his sex is never good.

funny, isn’t it? how someone with a small dick and hardly any skills on pleasing women would offer sex as payment.

coriolanus, at least, thinks it’s hilarious.

what he doesn’t think is hilarious, though, is that festus is talking to someone coriolanus is far too familiar with. glittery eye makeup, a lacy bow in their hair, baby pink dress.. it’s you.

coriolanus’ mouth runs dry when you spot him in the corner of your eye, your lips twisting into a sugar - coated grin as soon as your eyes widen, “snow!”

you immediately move to give him a hug, festus’ searing gaze following your every movement in the creepiest way possible— god, coriolanus hates him. his fingers lace around your waist, tugging you close, “hey, princess.”

“princess?” festus snickers.

coriolanus tries to ignore him, but he finds it near impossible with the words that leave your lips next, “this is festus, my friend, do you know him?”

coriolanus scoffs, does he know him, what a joke, “i know of him.”

festus finds himself chuckling bitterly, “is that right, pretty boy?”

coriolanus takes a step, and you feel a certain mold of metal against your waist when he does, a gun, his cold lips part, “sure is.”

your eyes roam over his features, the curves of his skin when his brows collide, the way his eyes darken with malice, the grit of his sharp teeth, the flush of his jaw against his flesh as he moves it. his muscles flex underneath his baggy band t - shirt, veins pulsing. he was angry.

festus’ lips part, but you speak before him, “snow?”

his head nods in your direction, but he doesn’t say anything.

“answer your girl, snow,” festus taunts.

“go upstairs,” he mumbles, it’s to you.

so you do.

⊹˚. ౨ৎ

coriolanus sighs when he closes the door behind him, coming in mere minutes later. you had been sitting on the bed in the vacant room, fingers playing together, eyes glossed over in fear and pricking with tears. coriolanus wasn’t the only one who carried, but you didn’t hear any shots, fortunately.

“kid’s such a fuckin’ asshole,” he mumbles, cracking his bruising knuckles, “he’s not sellin’ you shit, is he?”

“sometimes—“

“don’t buy from him anymore,” coriolanus pauses, swallowing, “he laces his shit sometimes.”

it was true, festus was messy with his work, he didn’t lace the products himself but the people that distributed them to him would, he was just too lazy to even notice.

“i’m sorry,” it comes out hushed, a mere whisper, but coriolanus’ ears pick up on it easily.

his tone is softer now, “why?”

“i didn’t know—“

“then don’t apologize,” his head tips to the side, sniffling the bubbling blood in his nose, he inhales, pupils wide as they roam your features. a glass tear raced down your pliant cheek, and he immediately moved to carefully wipe it away, “don’t cry, doll.”

you don’t say anything, merely melt into his touch. coriolanus isn’t good with affection, he’s hardly had any girlfriend before and if he has, they don’t last long due to his struggles with showing kindness. so it’s obvious the next word that leaves his mouth isn’t one born from honeysuckle, “cocaine?”

your lips move nervously, bottom lip tugging under your teeth as your mascara covered lashes move to his frost - bitten eyes, “do you have.. ecstasy?”

his lips drop to a frown, “why?”

your lips tremble when they part, cheeks heating under his touch, “my friends want to try it.”

“no,” he swallows, jaw ticking, “i’m not selling you that shit.”

“what? why not?”

“that shit is too dangerous,” he chuckles, albeit it’s bitterness, “i don’t want you around that, it’s trouble.”

“i’ve been good,” you reassure, hips swaying when you scoot closer to the edge of the bed, closer to him.

“have you, now?” his thumb is gently rubbing against your skin.

“i have, i promise,” you offer, feeling his fingers move so his thumb is now moving against your bottom lip, dipping into your mouth ever so slightly.

you smile around it and his pupils dilate even more, are his eyes blue anymore or merely just sole pupil? “naughty girl.”

then he stops, as if he had realized something, and pulled away. your lips curve downward to a frown, desperate to have his touch again, “snow?”

“don’t,” his molars collide, “i’ll hurt you.”

“that’s okay—“

“—i’m bad news—“

“—i don’t think that—“

“—i’m dangerous, doll.”

you hesitate, inhaling sharply, “but you won’t hurt me.”

he doesn’t say anything for a minute, “so, you want cocaine?”

you give him a careful nod, and he smiles. again, he’s being sweet.

“you know how to chop up cocaine?”

you allow yourself a giggle, “you know i don’t.”

“i’ll show you.”

and he does, his hand is gentle as it guides yours, fingers curling against the curve of your own as he crushes up the cocaine, guiding you to chop it up with the card he gave you. you’re warm underneath his cold touch, his movements experienced whilst yours are new. “how many times have you done this?”

he shrugs, breath fresh against the shell of your ear, “a couple hundred, for sure.”

“i could help you, you know, with the business,” you offer, despite not even really wanting to.

“no,” his fingers are tighter against your skin, but not enough to hurt, “i don’t want you in this business, you being around me is dangerous enough.”

“you’re not dangerous, snow,” you hush out.

he moves closer, and you feel his gun brush against your ass, lips curving into a smile, “you think so?”

you shiver from the touch, it’s loaded, the safety is probably off, “i know so.”

your thighs push together, he feels it, making him chuckle, “you’re so needy, princess.”

“snow,” you breathe out, “this isn’t fair.”

“how so?” he presses a soft kiss behind your ear, “just because you aren’t getting what you want?”

“do you want it?” you pause your movements.

“of course i do, i want it as much as you,” he moves your fingers so you drop the card, guiding them to his bulge, “‘m just not spoiled.”

you frown at his works, fingers curving around his bulge, god, how big was he? “‘m not spoiled either.”

“whatever you say, princess,” he grits out.

you palm him so well, it nearly has him rutting against your hand, breathing getting heavier against your ear. his fingers move to trail down down your back, dipping underneath the hem of your skirt and tracing along the thin material of your lace panties. his jaw shifts, “such a dirty girl, wearing these panties.”

you whimper when his fingers graze along the soaked part of your panties, thick fingers brushing against your clothed clit, “please— snow.”

“please what, princess?” you mumble something in response, but it’s nearly incoherent, more of a whimper, “use your words.”

he moves to pull your panties to the side, now touching your bare clit, making your thighs tremble, “i need— fuck, i need you— inside.”

he nods, pressing kisses along the side of your neck, finding himself already pussy - drunk. it almost felt sacrificial, a sinful man dipping his fingers inside of a goddess, the way you moaned at the feeling of his finger stretching you out— it was as if he could be confessing of his sins at any minute.

to see your hips bucking against his finger, his name hushed on the tip of your delicate tongue. didn’t you know that many people wanted him dead? how many people hated him? how the police could arrest him at any second? yet you didn’t care, a lamb to the slaughter, a deer in between the jaws of a wolf.

yet you were rutting against his hand, begging for more, desiring him to push another finger in— and he did exactly that, prepping your tight cunt for his cock, “you’re so fuckin’ tight, doll, i don’t know if it’ll fit.”

“it will— it will, i know it will—,” you’re just babbling nonsense at this point, and coriolanus wanted to be gentle, he really did, but your sweet moans, your sugary whimpers, the way he so easily pushed his fingers inside of you, the way that when you curl, your moans up a few octaves. you were so sensitive, god, were you a virgin?

the thought had coriolanus pulling his fingers out, twirling you around so he can push his fingers into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself as his other hand undoes the belt holding his baggy jeans up. his eyes are crystalizing the memory of your tongue swirling against his fingers, sucking up every taste of your own cunt— have you thought of this as many times as he has?

he moves his hand to take his gun before it falls, placing it on the counter behind you, his fingers move from your mouth to help him push his jeans down, your lips part, “why do you have a gun?”

he smiles sweetly at your words, nearly chuckling, “why do you think?”

“‘m not sure, that’s why i asked,” you had a certain tinge in your voice that makes him quirk a brow.

“it’s to protect myself, princess,” he pushes his boxers down, finally freeing his cock, “now be a good girl, turn around, and bend over.”

of course you do exactly what he asks, bending over the counter so he can push your skirt up. the feeling of your innocence being stripped away right in front of you was far too good, like a cross ripped from the chain around your neck, or your holy water being unpurified. you were a cupcake with frosting on top, and coriolanus was sinking his teeth into you, rotting his sweet tooth.

his dick slaps against your heat when your legs part with desire, making you whine against nothing, “snow— please..”

“just say it, princess,” he moves to rub his red tip against your clit, making you shudder, knees buckling already.

“fuck me— f..fuck me,” you repeatedly beg.

he moves closer to press a sweet kiss on the back of your neck, bones colliding when his cock finally pushes into your cunt. you were so tight around him, squeezing him around your velvet walls. your jaw falls slack when you gasp at the feeling of him stretching you out, his lips pull tight together in a grunt, “so tight for me, princess— jesus christ..”

his breathing is labored when he pulls his hips back and thrusts in, he goes slow at first, treating you like you were a fragile statue made from porcelain, but then you’re begging him to go faster, to go harder. your fingers graze along the gun placed on the counter, right next to the cocaine. his tongue swipes along the roof of his mouth before he speaks, “are you sure, doll? i don’t— fuck— want to hurt you.”

“h-hurt me, it’s okay,” you mumble out, and he truly does hesitate for a second, then his thrusts are suddenly faster, bumping you into the counter with the sheer snap of his hips. your cries sound like noises formed from a blessed harp, passed down by the gods for him to listen to, each moan getting louder and louder until his ears are ringing, until the music sounds hushed compared to your screams.

it’s so obscene, all of the things that he finds himself spitting out as he harshly bucks into you. so cute, jus’ wanna ruin you, takin’ my cock so well, that feel good princess? he can’t help the way his hands snake up to your hair, tugging at the pretty bow wrapped around it, earning a frosted moan from your glossed lips.

it’s not long until you’re cuming on his cock, with him pulling out to twirl you around and push you to your knees, allowing you to jerk him off until thick white stripes are decorating your face. the white glitter, the sweet scent of your lip - gloss, now accompanied by his cum.

how cute.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” he mumbles as he tucks his dick back in his boxers, pulling his jeans back up when your painted nails move to wipe away the cum on your face, lapping it up with your pretty tongue.

you giggle sweetly, “do you do this with all your customers?”

he shakes his head, “no, doll, you’re special, you know that.”

and it’s true, you really were special.

you were a dangerous man’s doll.

[gay-dorito-dust]

hellooo, your writing is amazing so far i love it 🫶🏼

Could you do one for Hobie x fem reader, where the reader is friends with SpiderPunk AND Hobie. But she doesn’t know they’re the same person. And one day lovergirl rants about her fat ah crush on Hobie to him??

First off, thank you for enjoining my writing, I try my best with what working brain cells I have left 🤣

Ooh I love this idea very much! But I might make it a two parter cuz I defiantly went off request…oops…

Part 2

You were just minding your business, chilling on the roof top of an abandoned apartment complex, mind a million miles elsewhere on a certain somebody when a flash of red and blue caught your eye and before you knew it; you company of one had became a company of two.

‘Heya Spidey, how are things?’ You greeted.

He shrugs, ‘the usual but what about you lil missis,’ he playfully nudges you, ‘head so far off into the clouds I’m actually feeling a little neglected over here.’ You laughed, shoving him away by his arm. ‘Oh come off it, will you? I just been thinking about this guy I’ve liked for a while now.’ You admitted and Hobie’s interest was immediately peaked.

For as long as he knew you, Hobie could barely remember the last time you had ever admitted to him in fancying someone, besides from a couple of incidences from way back that ended up backfiring; but other then that, you kinda made it a point not to talk about it, maybe in due to him thinking that whoever you did fancy at the time weren’t worth the effort you’d give had you perused them. You had often called him overprotective whenever you tell him about your crush of the week but Hobie would defend himself by saying he was merely looking out for you and didn’t want you getting hurt by some douchebag.

‘You don’t have to defend me from everything Hobie,’ you once told him as you were patching him up from beating the breaks off of your last crush because they were chatting shit about you behind your back, ‘whilst as sweet as it is but you can’t always be there to look out for me.’

‘Watch me.’ He replied, his view remaining completely unchanged. You sighed, knowing that once Hobie’s mind was made up, nothing you nor anyone else could do to change that. He was an akin to that of an immovable object when it came to his beliefs and views and it was amongst the many things you adored and admired about him most.

‘Oh yeah? And who’s the lucky guy?’ He asked casually leaning back on his arms, watching as you brought your knees close to your chest before resting your chin upon them as your eyes gaze out at nothing in particular; something Hobie noticed you often do when you were particularly in your feelings and needed something to hold onto and ground yourself before you became adrift in your own sea of emotions. It was cute to see you tucked in on yourself so tightly that he couldn’t be more thankful for the fact that you couldn’t see how dopey he must’ve looked beneath his mask.

‘Hobie. Hobie Brown.’

He blinked twice, nah, he must’ve heard that wrong, surely, his hearing must be going all scewiff.

‘Hobie Brown.’ He said his own name as though it was the first time he was ever saying it. Upon seeing the way your shoulders drop and your body becoming at ease upon hearing his name, along with the way you smiled gently and how your eyes seemed to beam with newfound light which all had only helped In affirming to Hobie that he did indeed hear you the first time. ‘What is it about the guy that’s got you all up in knots?’ He asked, trying to act as though you didn’t just indirectly admitted that you’ve got a crush on him to him.

‘Where do I start.’ You started, unable to fight against your own feelings that were swelling up within your chest when an image of Hobie appeared in the forefront of your mind, he was sat on your bed, eyes closed as he allowed himself to get lost within his guitar rifts, his calloused fingers expertly transitioned from chord to chord as it were muscle memory. ‘He’s just so cool and awesome and so forthright and opinionated in his views and beliefs that he’s not afraid to back down from a fight should it come down to it.’ You tell him with a sense of fondness in your voice.

Hobie was quick to notice how your hand fiddle with one of the many handmade pins he’s made you that you always paired up with any and every outfit you ever wore, even if they styles did clash but you didn’t seem to care; Whatever the reason for you reaching for the pins were, whether it’d be out of a need to feel out the closest thing you had in regards to him or it was just something you did out of habit, made Hobie warm within his chest that soon spread throughout his body. ‘Sounds like me and this Hobie guy are more alike then I originally thought.’

Your fingers stopped their fiddling and you suddenly looked at him as though you were just now realising something with the way your eyes bore into him, Hobie thought that you might’ve developed the ability to see through the mask that withheld his identity and into him, so much so that he couldn’t help but make a comment on it, ‘stare at me any harder sweetheart and your stare might burn right through my mask.’ You must’ve been deep into your thinking as you didn’t seem to have noticed that he had spoken at all and Hobie was starting to think that he might’ve been too relaxed with you as Spider-Man that you might have started to have it pieced together in your mind; after all you were smart, more so then what you give yourself credit for.

‘Now that you’ve mentioned it you and Hobie do share some of the same attributes and habits, I’m also pretty sure your similar height wise and even though your mask muffled your voice, it fills me with a sense of familiarity that it’s hard for me to put a finger on.’ You said as you leaned closer to him until you were partially merely a breath away from each other. Hobie didn’t know he was holding in a breath until you shrugged ‘but I could just be grasping at a straws, so I won’t dwell on it as much.’ and moved away from him back to your previous position.

As much as he would’ve loved to have you figure out his identity on your own terms. Hobie would prefer it best if he were the one to reveal himself to you but the moments where he wanted to never felt right and he didn’t want to you in danger by doing so, but he knew that there’d come a time where he would be greeted with a choice in wether to tell you the truth as to who he was or continue living like he has currently and potentially loose your trust because of his lack of transparency; Hobie couldn’t bear to think of loosing your trust but just as he has always done since becoming your friend, he was merely looking out for you and for your safety as they were always his top priorities.

[lovebugism]

“don’t you dare touch him” eddie x shy!reader

idk i need a situation where reader never really speaks up but she finally does when it comes to eddie because she loves him sm😭

thanks so much for your request! hope you like it!! — the one where eddie melts when his quiet gf sticks up for him in front of jason (shy!reader, fluff, 2.4k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

The drive from Forest Hills to the arcade is spent with Lucas and Dustin bickering in the backseat and Eddie’s hand on your thigh.

“It’s been two years, and you still can’t beat my high score, Dusty Bun,” the former boy taunts. The nickname spills like venom from his smiling face. “Just give it up, okay? It’s not happening.”

Dustin grins back at him. It’s more so mischievous than it is taunting. His deep blue eyes narrow in a challenging squint. “You are so gonna be eating your words by the end of the night. When we leave, Princess Daphne is gonna be mine, alright? For good.”

Their arguing becomes background noise. With your cheek lolled against the hand you’ve got propped against the window, you’re pulled into the wispy lilac cloud your gaze is so heavily fixated upon. The sky billows lavender against a sea of pink and golden orange — a summer sunset so vivid you can taste it.

The only thing keeping you grounded is Eddie’s palm on your knee, wide and warm and all-consuming. His thumb rubs against your skin so softly you think it must be absentminded. It feels like static shock, anyway. He laughs quietly to himself, and his fingers tremble gently against you. This time they squeeze you with a newfound intention as he brings you back to him.

“What do you think, babe?” Eddie asks, pink mouth spread in a pearly white grin. His chocolate eyes glimmer with the golden hour sun as his gaze flits between yours and the road. “Think Dusty Bun has a chance here?”

You nod, scrunched nose and squinted eyes, silent in your support for the curly-headed boy who’s still yelling over Lucas in the back of the van.

“What about me?” he presses. And because he knows better than to give his quiet girl anything other than a yes or no answer, he follows quickly, “You think today’s the day I finally beat your Space Invaders high score?”

A beat passes. The momentary silence is filled with arguing boys, old tires on older asphalt, and Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train” spilling softly from the radio. A quiet smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You purse the mischievous expression to the side as you turn away from him again.

Your non-answer makes him laugh. It sounds exactly like the colors of the sunset.

His beat-up van jerks when he puts it into park. The door on the side squeaks as the kids file out of it. Eddie’s does too, but you can’t hear it over him telling you to “sit tight.” 

You wait patiently in the passenger seat like you always do, smiling to yourself as the boy rushes around the hood to open the door for you. The hinges screech in protest. His wild curls billow in the wind as he smiles. “C’mon, sunshine. Our palace awaits.”

The group of you stand beneath the spinning neon sign he parked next to — glowing orange and white beneath a setting sun. Someone calls from across the parking lot, “Well, well, well. Look who it is.”

Your heads snap in the direction of the painfully familiar voice. 

Jason and the rest of his abnormally tall goons stand outside the new gym that just opened on the strip. The dark, vacant building wedged between The Palace and Family Video was no longer as scary as it used to be now that it was occupied. You were just hoping it’d be something more exciting. Forcing arcade nerds and gym bros into one spot feels like a crime.

“And they brought little miss wallflower, too,” Jason lilts with his pretty smile and straight teeth. His blonde hair is a darker shade of brown, damp with half-dried sweat. His lean form is unnaturally built underneath his white tank top and basketball shorts. 

It isn’t any wonder why he turned out to be such a raging douchebag. 

Someone so perfect needed at least one flaw.

“The gang’s all here, huh?” one of his other friends — Andy, you think — concurs from behind him, always in the boy’s shadow.

“Like what you see, fellas?” Eddie calls out from across the slab of pavement separating the group of you. He’ll never turn down an opportunity to take the piss out of the so-called jocks, all muscle and no brain. 

“What do we do when those assholes give us hell?” he’d often ask when you’ve had a particularly shitty day with them. “We give ‘em hell right back.”

Jason’s thin lips curl into a more mischievous smirk. His blue eyes are lighter in the golden sunlight, and they twinkle beneath the neon signs as he looks you up and down. “Yeah, actually,” he hums with his unabashed ogling. “I do.”

Mike’s lanky legs sidestep to stand ahead of you. He does it so swiftly, so instinctually, you don’t think he even really meant to do it. Despite the raven-haired boy halfway covering you, you cross your arms over your torso in a further attempt to keep yourself hidden. 

You feel so suddenly exposed in your frilly floral sundress — especially considering the only thing you wear to school is baggy jeans and baggier sweaters. You feel like you might as well be naked standing in front of them just now.

The younger boys stand on high alert as Eddie walks the short distance to Jason. The brief journey is made quicker when the blonde boy strides to meet him halfway. It���s a high school sort of standoff — neither particularly wanting to get physical because the real-life repercussions aren’t worth it. They just want to see who can piss each other off the most.

“She is pretty, isn’t she?” Eddie concedes with a grin, flashing you a brief glance over his shoulder. He turns away quickly at the sight of your wide, pleading eyes. He scrunches his nose in feigned sympathy. “I bet you’re real jealous, huh? Especially now that you’ve got nothing but your right hand keeping you company ever since Chrissy dumped your ass.”

“Watch it,” Jason warns through gritted teeth.

“I think I saw her riding around last week with Harrington, actually.”

The blonde boy’s sneakers scuff against the concrete as he takes a daring step closer. His piercing stare never wavers. “Don’t talk about Chrissy.”

“Don’t talk about my girl, and I won’t talk about yours,” Eddie retorts in lilt. And then, because he can’t help but twist the knife, he tilts his head to his shoulder and continues. “Well, I guess she’s not really yours anymore, is she?”

“I said don’t talk about Chrissy!” Jason repeats, louder than before, when he lets his anger get the best of him. One hand shoots up to shove at Eddie’s chest, using only enough force to make the boy stumble slightly back. 

While Dustin, Lucas, and Mike gear up for a fight, Eddie only laughs in response — big, boisterous, and boyish.

You don’t even realize you’re stepping in front of the group until you’re already doing it. The words seem to fly from your mouth without you even thinking about them. “Don’t touch him!” you shout. 

And even though it wasn’t particularly loud, it quiets in the mindless bickering all at once. Everyone turns to gape at you — Jason, Andy, Dustin, Eddie. Everyone is equally surprised by your outburst. Because you don’t speak. Ever. At least, not if you can help it. 

And it’s not because you don’t have anything to say, because you do. It’s just that your brain works too much, and your mouth can’t keep up with it sometimes. It’s easier just to be silent.

That’s what you’ve been known for ever since you were little. You went through all of it — the bullying, the sad eyes, the talks with teachers, the ‘is everything alright at home’s. Everything was fine, for the most part. Your childhood was equally as middling as everyone else’s. You just had a harder time being human than most people.

Jason smiles again, amused by your warning. “What was that, sweetheart?”

You swallow through a tightening throat. Your sweaty hands clench into balls at your sides. The words come out quieter than before, but no less meaningful. “I said… Don’t touch him.”

“Oh, so she does speak. Here I thought no one ever taught you how to,” the blonde boy laughs. You feel disgusting when his attention settles solely upon you. The lingering sick feeling is eclipsed by your gratitude that Eddie’s no longer in his line of fire. “I’m gonna be honest… I thought you were cuter when you were quiet.”

You don’t know what he means by that. You can’t tell if he’s being genuine, or if he thinks you care enough about what he thinks to slink back into your shell.

“Leave Eddie alone,” you retort drily.

He snorts. “Yeah? Or what?”

There’s a thousand words you want to say. You open your mouth to spit all of them at the boy across from you, but nothing comes out.

“Yeah,” Jason laughs at your silence. “That’s what I thought.”

You stand your ground when he walks towards you. His strides are slow and menacing, like he’s expecting you to back away. You might’ve if you were anywhere else — if Eddie wasn’t a couple feet away and the rest of your friends weren’t crowding behind you. You’re made somehow braver by their presence.

“This is a really cute dress, though, sweetheart,” the blonde boy compliments with a thin smirk. “You should dress like this more often. You know what? You’d really fit in at the strip club downtown— what’s it called?”

“Pink Paradise,” Andy answers without missing a beat.

Jason smacks his lips against his teeth. “That’s the one.”

“Is that the one your mom works at?” you wonder with your arms crossed over your chest. Your head tilts to your shoulder as you squint at him. “Is she still giving those two-for-one discounts?” 

Jason’s confidence stutters at your biting reply — even more so by the choked-back laughter accompanying it. Your boys don’t bother to hide their humored giggles, though the basketball team covers theirs by coughing into their fists.

“Ooh. I didn’t know you had such a much on you,” the blonde lilts as his blue eyes narrow. “I’m like… fifty percent more attracted to you now.”

“Leave Eddie alone,” you deadpan once more. “And go be a douchebag somewhere else.”

One of his friends breaks free from the pack. He’s tall, thin, and toned. He’s got the same haircut as Lucas: compact curls, squared off on the sides. You know him — Patrick McKinney. He’s the only one of Jason’s friends that was actually nice to you. Or, at the very least, he wasn’t a total asshole.

“Let’s go, man,” the boy ushers, nudging at Jason’s bicep. “Let’s go shoot some hoops or something. This isn’t worth it.”

You scoff out a laugh. “Oh, please— the only shooting Jason Carver does is into a kleenex. It’s why you were benched all last season.”

“I twisted my ankle!” the blonde boy defends, sounding weak and pathetic beneath the chorus of laughter as Patrick drags him away.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you mutter, perhaps too quiet for him to hear, as Lucas pulls at your forearm to guide you in the other direction. His touch is still gentle — it would be uncharacteristic of him to be rough with you. It would also be a terrible idea with Eddie just a few paces behind the both of you.

The walk to The Palace is a silent one. There’s too much to say, and everyone’s just a little too amazed to say it. Eddie, however, never had a hard time killing a quiet. He rushes on long legs to match your quick strides, reaching you rather easily. 

“Hey, hey, hey— you okay, babe?” the worried boy wonders. He takes a gentle hold of your wrists when you reach the awning beneath the arcade. His chocolate gaze flits attentively over your form, nowhere near as leering as Jason had been. 

He can tell by your heaving chest and glassy eyes that you’re a little overwhelmed. When he takes your face in his hands, he finds that your cheeks are burning, too.

You nod into his warm palms in silent reply, back in the comfort of your shell all over again.

“What’d you do that for, huh?” Eddie singsongs with a quiet laugh. His thumb dances over your cheekbones as he grins at you. “You know I don’t like you getting involved with those assholes.”

“They don’t get to talk to you like that… Or put their hands on you,” you mutter. Despite your soft tone, Eddie can see the fury flashing in your eyes, getting angry about it all over again.

His smile widens — proud and hopelessly in love with you. “No. They don’t. Especially not with my girl around, huh?”

“Nope,” you murmur, popping the p. A sheepish grin pulls at your mouth, equally as proud and in love.

Eddie leans down to kiss you, guiding your mouth to his with the hands cupping your jaw. It’s innocuously chaste, being that you’re still standing in a public parking lot. You could never quite stomach the attention of PDA, anyway. His pink lips lock with yours in a fleeting peck, and his arms wrap around you a second later.

He smothers you into his chest, and you revel in every second of it. He smells like cigarette smoke and the cologne he tried to cover it up with. He smells like a home you could live in forever. 

You smile into the thrifted Blondie tee you got him — which he happily accepted because he loves you (even though he hates Blondie). He presses a kiss into your hair and smushes his nose into the crown of it as he laughs.

“‘Is that the one your mom works at?’” Eddie repeats with a soft chuckle, chest swelling with pride once more. “God, babe. That’s good.”

“Shut up…” you murmur.

“I’m serious! I didn’t know you were such a good smack-talker! I think you might be a genius, actually.”

“Don’t,” you grouse with a lighthearted scowl. You pull away from him only slightly — enough for him to put your face back in his hands again. You feel safest there, even if you are pouting up at him.

“You’re so cute,” the boy muses with a beam. His eyes glimmer like a sea of chocolate syrup, melting with all the love he has for you. “You’re like a cinnamon roll. A cinnamon roll that could bite people.”

“That’s exactly what I am,” you monotone and try your best not to smile.

Eddie couldn’t hide his grin if he tried. “And that’s exactly why I love you.”

[thecuriousbeauty]

Traitor-The Present

Chapter Five

Warnings: Gun, violence, physical assault. Smut. Degradation, fingering, slight anal play, spanking, cum play, oral (male receiving), choking.

Summary: Just when y/n starts to think that Harry isn't the old mafia gang's leader, she discovers some secrets about him that makes her wonder whom she really fell in love with.

Word Count: 8.3k

Catch up on the story here: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three*, Chapter Four* ______________________________________

There couldn’t be a better place to be, y/n thought, as she sat beside Harry on the beach side, gritty sand in between her toes and the cool breeze making her feel refreshed. Harry’s arm around her shoulders kept her close to him, close enough that his fresh, masculine scent blanketed her. 

“I want to stay here forever. It’s so beautiful.”, y/n tells him. “The sea looks so calm.”

“It may be calm now, but I feel like it’s getting ready for war. Quiet, and calculating.”, Harry spoke softly, and y/n looked at him, raising her eyebrows. Harry chuckles, pressing a kiss to her temple. “It is beautiful though."

“Well, when you put it like that..”, y/n mumbles. She wonders what goes inside Harry’s mind half the time. 

“I’m hungry.”, Harry says, nudging his nose against her cheek. “Me too, let’s go grab some food. What do you think is good here?”

y/n and Harry talk as they walk to a shack It was located on the beachside, with a live band and people dancing.

"Do you think where we live is unsafe? It's not the first time you've mentioned about me moving someplace else and settling down.", Harry asks y/n, referring to their previous conversation, just before they told each other how they feel.

"Um, I-I'm just worried, the crime reports from our place increases every day.", she quickly comes up with something, and Harry cocks his head to the side, not believing her. "Uh huh. And it’s not because you want me to go away?”

y/n laughs, and nudges his ribs. “Now why would I want that?”

They walk into the shack, and she leads him to a table at the back. She notices two men eyeing her as she walks in. They were swinging beer from their bottles. One of them winks at her, and she turns away, ignoring them.

y/n and Harry look at the menu and decide on what they want to get.

"You don't have to worry about my safety, y/n. I can take care of myself.", Harry tells her. "And I'll take care of you."

She smiles, leaning into his side as she feels cold. Harry was warm. They have their food, and y/n gets up to use the restroom. On her way back, she feels a squeeze on her ass, and shivers climb up her spine. That was not Harry.

She looks back to see the man who winked at her earlier.

"Hi beautiful, want to take it somewhere private?", he grins, showing her his teeth as he runs one of his hands through his messy black curls. A cigarette stuck out between his lips.

"No. Touch me again and I'll report you.", she warns, and the man laughs, looking over at his friend. "Feisty one, this."

"Told you she'd be a good one. You can tell from the rack.", the other guy walks towards them, eyes on her breasts.

"Shut the fuck up and stop staring at me. I'm going to-" One of them grabs her wrists. "Don't tell us what to do, little girl. We will-"

"-Finish that sentence, and you won't have a tongue to say anything again."

y/n struggles to get her wrists free as she sees Harry glaring at them both. "Let her go, now."

"Ah hah, this is getting interesting. Got your boyfriend out to play huh? Show us what you got, man."

Harry didn’t hesitate. He smirked, before he punched his fist straight into the man's nose. He groans and holds his nose.

"Your turn now. Let. Her. Go."

Before Harry could reach him, the guy pushes y/n away with force, and her hip hits the drinks counter making her yelp, her head smashing on a glass.

“You fucking bastard!”, Harry charged at him.

"Oh my god. I told you to keep those douchebags out, Frank!" A lady helps y/n onto a chair, probably the owner of the shack. "Are you okay darling? Oh god, I'm so sorry. They're such creeps, always getting into trouble."

y/n was too shocked to reply. Shocked because of what she was watching. Harry had the man who grabbed her on the ground. He was kicking him, growling. "I warned you. Nobody fucking touches my girl!"

Everyone in the shack watches as Harry beats the crap out of him.

"Harry!", y/n shouts as the other man prepares to swing a bottle against Harry's head from behind. Harry's arm shot up to grab his arm, without even turning back, and with one grunt, he flipped him over, making him fall at his feet with a big groan of pain.

"Harry that's enough-", y/n tried to say, but Harry wasn't listening to her. He was burning with rage. y/n noticed that every kick and every punch he threw was while he stood in perfect form. His biceps flexed while he reached behind him and the veins in his neck popped. What he did to the guys was rough, but his movements were sharp and defined. 

“Who do you think you are Mr. Show Off?” Suddenly, a few other men joined the fight, and they were armed. One of them held a pocket knife, and the other held a baseball bat. Two others screamed as they ran to Harry.

y/n brought her hand to her mouth in shock as she realized something. All these four men who joined now were the ones that were following them, back at home. They were the ones who kept watching them.

y/n wanted to pull Harry into safety, but she didn't have to. Two arms projected out and grabbed one of their necks, while he punched the other one's head, throwing them both onto the wall. He kicked the knife out of the third's hand, and y/n thought he looked like he was flying in the air after the kick made the man slam onto the floor with a big thud.

The last man standing raised his baseball bat, and Harry slams on to him, leaving them both on the ground.

Harry was unscathed. Six men were down, and he continued to beat them up, making sure no one could get up again. A normal man couldn't fight like this.

This was the job of an experienced fighter. He had been in fights way worse than this before. Even if Harry couldn't remember how he could do it, his body was moving out of muscle memory.

This was what y/n was searching for. Some glimpse of him from the past life. The man that everyone was afraid of. y/n now saw why.

Harry groans, looking down at the injured men. "Don’t you dare lay a fucking finger on my girl again.”

All his anger vanishes when he looks at y/n. Her small frame was shaking. He rushes to her, and grabs her wrists. "Are you okay, y/n?"

She nods, looking at the blood on his knuckles. "H-Harry.."

"It's not mine.", he assures. He put his arm around her. "Come on, let's go."

She feels everyone's eyes behind their backs as Harry walks them out of the shack. y/n's head hurt. She wasn't sure if it was because of the injury, or because of everything she saw. What was she thinking? They had warned her that Harry could get dangerous. She was scared.

Harry held her hand tight in his as he led them to their room, and then to the bathroom.

"Harry..", y/n opens her mouth, taking a breath as he looks through his bag for something. "Y-You-"

"There are glass shards on your head baby, let me take care of it for you.", Harry cuts her off, coming back with a bag, it probably had some first aid stuff. It was bigger than a normal first aid kit, but he was a doctor by profession, so it made sense. He washes his hands, and she searches his eyes for the look she saw a few minutes ago. How his eyes were darker, and there was no hint of kindness on his face.

Harry grabs her waist, and places her on the slab next to the sink, before going through his first aid supplies. 

"Any dizziness? Headache?", Harry asks softly, gently taking her face. One of his hands held her chin, tilting it up while his other hand examined the wound carefully.

"H-Head hurts a bit..", she mumbles, and Harry nods. He picks up a pen flashlight and turns it on. "Just gonna check your eyes, yeah?"

She holds in her breath as Harry flashes the light in her eyes, the thumb over his other hand on her eyebrow. She stared into his beautiful eyes, but they remained focus. He kept the pen flashlight away, and put up numbers on his fingers, asking her to follow his finger.

"You're okay, no signs of concussion.", he sighs in relief. "And your wound doesn't need stitches, I can fix it up in two minutes."

"Harry we should talk about-"

"-You're hurt.", Harry tells her firmly. "We'll talk after I make sure you're gonna be okay."

She didn't protest. She flinched when he dabbed the cotton dipped in antiseptic on her broken skin, making it sting. "I know, I'm sorry..", Harry murmurs, gently holding her face. These were the same hands that roughed up the men, but now they were so gentle. He picked out little glass shards with tweezers, and she pulled her face away when it hurt.

"Shh..almost done, baby. Stay still for me.."

y/n sat there, caged between his legs, and watched his face as he treated her wound. She couldn't believe it. He was a completely different man when he fought them.

"That's it, you're all done. Nothing to worry about, that'll heal very soon." Harry gives her a small smile as he finishes applying an ointment and then bandages it.

"Thank you.", she nods.

"Of course. If they had hurt you any worse I would've-"

"-You would've what, Harry?", y/n finds her voice finally. "Y-You beat them to a pulp, they'll need to be hospitalized. T-There was blood."

Harry looks at her while he dries his hands after washing them. "What did you want me to do, y/n? They were hurting you!"

"S-Some of them..I-I knew some of them. I've seen them follow us around. W-Who are they?"

"I don't know.", Harry grumbles, while placing her back on the ground, and she grabs his hands, moving them away from her waist.

"Where did you learn to fight like that? H-How did you disarm them like that? Tell me Harry, please, who are they and why were they targeting you?"

"I said I don't know!", he snaps loudly, and y/n takes a step back, afraid of him. Harry curses, looking down at her feet. "Fuck, I'm sorry y/n, I-"

She steps further away when he tries to hold her hand. "Please tell me what you know, Harry.", she begs, tears running down her cheeks.

"I-I've seen them too.", Harry finally says. "I know they follow me around. There are more of them. But I don't know why. I honestly don't know, baby. I don't know why they don't let me go on with my life! I don't know why they tell me to remember stuff that I don't! I don't know how I can fight like that and I don't know why they're after me."

Harry looks into her eyes, desperate. "But I do know that I'll never hurt you. I felt so angry when I saw them touching you. I couldn't control myself. You mean a lot to me, and I'll never hurt you or stand back and watch as you get hurt, y/n. I would never put you in danger. I-I..I love you."

y/n crashes into his chest and he wraps his arms around her tight, pulling her as humanly close as possible. His warm big hands rub down her back, comforting her "I-I'm sorry for scaring you. E-Everything just burst out of me at that moment."

"T-They deserved it.", y/n admits, and Harry lets out a nervous chuckle, kissing the top of her head. "I will always protect you, sunshine."

y/n trusted him. His words were filled with emotion and she had seen how much he cares about her.

"We'll figure it out together, okay? All the missing pieces, we'll figure it out.", y/n tells him, holding his face and he nods. "I love you too, Harry." She kisses him before going back to hugging him. They would figure it all out.

____________________________________________________

"Just because I let you sleep yesterday doesn't mean you can sleep today!", y/n pokes Harry's ribs making him groan from his curled position in the passenger's seat.

"Talk to me unless you want me to crash us both into a tree.", y/n says, and he opens his eyes, squinting at her. "Aw, is my passenger princess angry?", she teases.

"Shut up.", Harry pouts at her, and she giggles. "I'll give you something to do. I need some rest too."

y/n pulls over, and Harry gives her a look. "Why are we stopping in the middle of nowhere?"

"For a switch. Your turn to drive.", she says, turning the engine off.

"No!"Harry's eyes widened. "I can't drive y/n! I won't sleep, but don't make me drive!"

"You do know how to drive! You have a license. Come on Harry, you can't be that bad. The road's empty, it's all yours.", y/n says, already getting out, and pulling Harry out of the other side. She opens the door for him and pushes him in despite his protests.

When y/n was settled, Harry looked over at everything, adjusting his seat. "Okay. You brought this upon yourself, sunshine. Seat belt on."

She pulls it over herself, and grins. "Let's go."

Harry changes the gear, and starts the car. "Okay, good start-"

y/n's voice cuts off as he changes the gear again, and stamps on the accelerator, speeding down the empty road.

"Oh my god. Harry!", her heart skips a beat as the air slaps against her face.

"I warned you.", Harry smiles, and then laughs. "I missed this!" "I wouldn't mind if you slowed down a bit-"

He only goes faster, and she squeaks, gripping onto the sides. "Don't worry, I got this.", Harry assures her, and she looks at him with wide eyes. "What else do you have hiding? Were you an F1 driver in the past?"

"That would be cool but I don't think so!", he laughs.

Hearing him laugh, and seeing his happiness, she broke into a laugh too. "You're a different breed altogether!"

"This car is amazing! Do we have to give it to that guy?!"

y/n laughs as she reaches to keep a hand on his knee. "I love you."

They sang at the top of their voices, enjoying the drive. "Do you know these routes?", y/n asks him, as he takes a left turn without cross checking with the map.

"Um, no, I just thought this is the better road.", he says.

"Huh. These roads were used for gold smuggling, illegal drug transport and things like that, apparently. They were used regularly a few years back, did you know?"

"Why would I know that random fact?"Harry raises an eyebrow.

"Just asking.", y/n shrugs, and changes the topic. They were planning on staying in Las Vegas for the night. They had found a hotel in the heart of the city, and they planned to spend some time there exploring before hitting the road a little later tomorrow.

Harry goes to take a shower once they get to their room, and y/n calls Uncle Luke. She was happy to know that he was doing perfectly fine. 

The room they got was beautiful, they had a big bed, and a beautiful view overlooking the city. Las Vegas was a party capital. They had to check out some of it.

y/n couldn't find her hair brush, and she thinks she might have kept it in Harry's bag, so she quickly goes through it. Sure enough, she had.

Just as she was about to pull out her hand, it landed on something cold, and heavy. y/n frowns and moves her fingers over it, and it was shaped like a..no way.

She pulls it out, and gasps in horror. Harry comes out of the bathroom at the same time. He looks at her as she stares in disbelief at the weapon she was holding.

"y/n, put that down.", Harry says calmly. "It's loaded."

A loaded gun.

"W-Why do y-you have a gun?", she asks shakily, dropping it. Harry quickly picks it up and puts it back in his bag. "Why were you looking through my bag?", he grumbles.

"Harry! That's not an answer.", y/n held his arms and looked into his eyes. "Tell me why you have a gun. Is that even yours?"

"Let it go baby-"

y/n pushes at his chest. "T-Tell me the truth please, Harry. Stop playing your games with me. Who are you?"

"I-I don't know.", Harry whispers, grabbing her hands and squeezing them when she tries to pull them out of his grip. "The gun is for safety. I told you that those men have been following me, and it's been going on for a long time. Before I even met you. I live alone y/n, what if all of them sneak up on me when I'm not expecting them to? That's why I have a gun. Yes, I shouldn't have brought it along and I should have told you. I'm sorry."

y/n wanted to believe him. "I-Is that the truth?"

"Yes, I promise.", Harry kisses her hand. "I'm not playing any game with you, y/n. It drives me crazy that I can't remember things. I wish I knew why all of this happens to me. You're the only normal thing in my life and you're the only person I have. I would never lie to you. You know who I am, you've seen who I am. I trust you sunshine, I've let you into my life because I trust you, and I love you. I wouldn't keep anything from you."

He pulls her into a hug, and she closes her eyes, holding on to him. She knew he was telling the truth. She was the one lying to him. She was breaking his trust. She was a monster.

"I-I need some air.", she whispers, pulling away from him.

"y/n please-"

"I have some things to think about Harry, please." She looks into his hurt eyes, before grabbing her phone and stepping out to the balcony. Harry didn’t want to let her go, but he understood that she needed some time alone.

y/n called Romania.

"Hello y/n, I was waiting for your call. How is-"

"-Romania, I'm done. I'm done with your memory game and I don't want your money. I can't do this for you."

"y/n what happened?"

"He's dangerous!", y/n whisper shouts. "He took down six big thugs all by himself yesterday and now, I found a gun in his bag."

"What?", Romania laughs. "He fought?"

"What the hell is so funny about that?", y/n snaps, so mad at her.

"Harry has not fought anyone since that incident, y/n! That means he's still in there. He was one of our best. He can take down anyone. Tell me what caused the fight."

y/n explained last night's event to her. "That is fantastic news y/n, that means he cares about you so much that he risked his mask coming off. Everyone who saw him there now knows that he's still someone to be feared. He must care deeply about you."

"A-And I care about him.", y/n whispers. "I know I'm in too deep now, but I can't keep hurting him by keeping this from him. I have to tell him."

"No! y/n you have two more days. I need you to get him to the location and then you're free to go, or tell him, or whatever you want to do. We will pay you double the amount. Please y/n, no one's got this close to him, you can get him to remember. Please. Reagen would want him to remember the memories they had together. He has to remember what happened that night."

y/n sighs, running her hand through her hair and she felt like pulling it out. She thought like Reagen. What would she do? She heard that she was extremely brave. However scared she must have felt deep down, Reagen wouldn't have given up. She probably died to save Harry. y/n couldn't let that sacrifice of love go to waste.

Harry had to remember.

"F-Fine..two more days.", y/n whispers.

"Harry won't hurt you y/n, trust me.", Romania said. "But if you feel unsafe, I can send my men to make sure you're safe."

"No it's okay, h-he, he won't hurt me.", y/n nods. "I'll call you later."

"Yeah. You got this, y/n, I'm-"

She hung up before hearing any more of her crap. How had she got herself into this fucking mess? y/n wasn't ready to face Harry yet, so she went down to the hotel's bar. She had to drink. She needed the alcohol to burn her emotions. She sat there by herself and tipped drink by drink down her throat.

Two days. Romania told her she'd be free to leave after that, but she was sure she couldn't just walk away without a scar. She had a feeling her life was going to turn upside down in those two days.

__________________________________________________________

Harry was jittery. He was sitting on the bed, knee bouncing with stress as he thought about everything. The last thing he wanted was to make y/n feel unsafe. He didn't know what to do. He wanted her to trust him. 

It had been too long since she walked away. Three hours. Harry worried about someone getting to her, someone hurting her. He was scared. He knew the world was full of bad people.

Harry takes his phone out and tries calling her. She doesn't answer.

"Fuck it.", he gets up, and he's tempted to stuff the gun into his pocket in case someone's got her, but he decided against it. That was only for emergencies.

Harry looked in the most obvious places first. He searched the restaurant, the rooftop DJ Party going on, and the bar.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw her sitting on a bar stool, sipping her drink and blabbering to the bartender.

"y/n.", Harry says as he approaches them.

"Oh hey Berty, meet my boyfriend! Harry, say hi to Berty!", y/n gives him a big grin, turning around on her stool to pat Harry's arm.

Harry looks at Berty, who gives him a small smile and a nod. "I was just going to ask her if there's someone to take her to her room, or back home if she's not staying here tonight."

"We're staying, and I'll take her. Thanks." Harry looks at y/n. Her eyes were dazed with the amount of alcohol she must have drowned, but she still looked gorgeous to Harry.

"Wait, Harry, have a drink with me, I haven't had one with you since that first week. Berty, get him a whiskey! The fiery kind!", y/n giggles, and pats the chair next to her. "Come sit, Harry."

Berty looks at Harry who shakes his head, and Berty nods, going away. "I don't want to have a drink now, love. Come on, it's late, you're sleepy."

"You don’t wanna have a drink with me?", y/n pouts at him, and his heart melts, so he sits down, but he doesn't ask for a drink. He knows that she is not a big drinker and he caused this now. He felt horrible about himself.

"I would love to have a drink with you sweetheart, but not now, okay? You've had a lot too, let me take you back to our room, okay?"

She nods, looking into his eyes. "Harry?"

Harry strokes her hair back, away from her face, nodding. "Tell me, babe."

"D-Do you..do you really love me?"

A small tear rolls down her cheek, and Harry's heart breaks. He cups her cheek, thumbing that tear away. Harry knew he had done horrible things, but if there was anything in his life that was steady, it was y/n. y/n showed him love, again. She was healing him.

"I do, I love you with all my heart, sunshine. I always have and I always will.", Harry whispers, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "I'm so sorry for everything, I wish-", he stops talking, and words himself again. "I would never hurt you on purpose."

"I know, that's what I keep saying.", she says, nodding to herself.

"Saying to who?", he asks, confused.

"Romania. You smell good.", she says, smiling at him like he was the best thing that ever happened to her.

"We should go, y/n.", Harry motions to Berty. "Add her tabs to our room please, 401."

"Yes sir, have a good night y/n.", Berty waves at y/n and she laughs, waving back as Harry helps her off the chair and puts his arm around her waist.

"Good night Berty, live your life while you can. Don't be greedy for money, just be happy."

Harry wondered where that came from, while he walked with her out of the bar. He holds her hand tight in his, and keeps his eyes out for anyone following them or spying on them. She leans on him in the elevator, and he holds her close as she mumbles incoherently.

"What happened that night, Harry?", y/n asks, looking up at him.

"Which night, love?"

"On the night you were smuggling the gold? The night you had your accident and lost your memory? Do you remember?"

Harry freezes, and his nostrils flare angrily. He hates anyone asking him that. He was sick and tired of all the accusations he had heard about him.

"I-I don't remember.", he answers coldly. The elevator door opens, and he ushers her out and to their room.

"That's too bad.", y/n says. "I know you don't, but those thick heads don't understand! Woops!" y/n goes off her balance, and Harry grabs her before she can fall. "Careful. There’s another step, there you go." He leads her inside their room, and decides to just pick her up. He easily picks her up bridal style, and she grins, putting her arms around his neck.

"You are so strong, babe.", y/n pats his shoulder.

"You're not at all heavy.", Harry kisses her nose, taking them to the bedroom. He lays her down on the bed, and she pulls him down with her, yanking him by the shirt. "Let's have some fun.", she wiggles her eyebrows, like she was telling him a secret, and he couldn't help but laugh.

"Not now, darling. Tomorrow, okay?"

"You don't think I'm sexy?", she asks, and he kisses her sweetly. "I think you're very sexy, sunshine. You're drunk now, so we can mess around later. Let's just sleep now, we drove four hours."

Harry gets her some water and makes her drink it. "Do you know Oliver?", y/n asks him, as he takes the glass back.

"Oliver? No.", Harry says, while taking her shoes off.

"Oliver Khan.", y/n says. "Or so he says. I heard mafia people have different names, so I don't know."

"Mafia? What are you talking about y/n? One of your mystery movies?", Harry asks, taking her shirt off for her. She giggles. "I wish! It is kind of like that."

"Gonna slip your jeans off, yeah?"

"Uh huh.."

Harry's fingers brush her skin as he unbuttons her jeans, and pulls it down her smooth legs. "He was your best friend. Don't remember, do you?"

"No."

"What about Hans? Strike a bell?"

"No."

Harry unbuckles her bra, knowing she wouldn't want to sleep with it on. He slips one of his shirts over her body while listening to her.

"You were a mafia leader, Harry, you were good at everything. You were smuggling gold that day you had the accident. And your name isn't Harry Turner like you call yourself, it's Harry Styles."

Styles. A mafia leader. Harry wonders how she knows that. She does seem to be sure about that.

"What are you talking about y/n?", he leans closer, cupping her cheek. She smiles sleepily, rolling over on the bed. "I don't know either. I'm drunk as hell!"

"y/n. What mafia? What do you know?" Harry pats her cheek, but her eyes are already closed, and she is out like a light.

He would ask her when she's sober. She knew things about his past life. And he wanted to know what she knew, and why she was hiding them from him. She said they'd figure it out together, didn't she? Now, she was the one keeping secrets.

__________________________________________________

y/n wakes up with a massive hangover headache, and groans, turning over and burying her face into the pillow. What had happened? y/n tries to remember what got her into this hangover misery and then she wishes all of it never happened. How was she in bed now? Did Harry come and get her?

She looks beside her and sees an empty bed. The sheets were rumpled, so Harry had slept here, but he wasn't here now. Or was it even their room? Where was she? She sits up and looks around. Yes, she saw her bag, it was their room.

"Harry?", she calls, hoping he would answer. She had made peace with the fact that he had a gun. And like Romania said, it was good. He is showing parts of his old self and it's only a matter of time before he remembers everything.

Harry appears, holding a cup. She thought it's her coffee, and smiled but it quickly disappeared. "Water?", she looks up at him when he hands it to her.

"You're dehydrated.", he murmurs, without looking at her. "Ibuprofen's there if you have a headache."

She found the pill beside her on the bedside table, and took it, washing it down with the water. "Thank you. Did you um get me to bed?"

"Don’t remember?", he asks, and she scoffs, it's usually her asking him that question.

"No, I don't. Last thing I remember is talking to Berty about his date...um, I thought about it Harry. I understand why you have a gun, I just needed some time."

Harry nods, sitting down on the bed, looking away from her. "What’s the matter? Are you okay?", she asks, frowning, noticing how he didn't spare her a glance yet.

"I'm hungry, breakfast closes in an hour.", he grumbles.

"Oh. Give me just one second to look a little presentable and we'll go." y/n gets off the bed, and kisses Harry's cheek before going into the bathroom.

They go to breakfast, and eat in silence. y/n was used to Harry being quiet, but he would hold her hand or keep his hand on her thigh, brush his shoulder with hers, he would do something. He did none of those today, and he seemed to be in deep thought as he ate. y/n worried whether she had said something to him last night. She doesn't remember one bit of her drunk rambling. Or was he mad that she ruined the one night they had in Vegas?

Probably everything. She kept quiet too. She deserved it.

Back in their room, Harry got some work calls and y/n laid in bed, watching him. She couldn't let him give her the silent treatment for any longer, she had a task to do and it won't work if both of them remain quiet. y/n loves talking and hates silence.

"Harry, talk to me. I'm sorry for running away like that.", y/n pipes up when he was done with the call.

"It was not  safe.", he murmured.

"I was around people, it was safe. I didn't go out of the hotel either. Why do you think it wasn't safe? Did you see those guys again?"

Harry walks over to plug his phone for charging. "No. I don't know, they could've been there."

y/n slowly nods. "I didn't think about that. We still have some time before hitting the road, wanna go check out the streets?"

Harry sighs, finally looking at her. "I don't wanna travel anymore. I want to go back."

"Why?", y/n asks, reaching for his hand. "Harry-"

"-Harry Styles.", he says, making her freeze. Did he remember his real last name?

"You said I'm Harry Styles, yesterday.", he completes. "Something about the mafia, and Oliver Khan. How do you know those things about me?"

His green eyes bore into hers, and she was speechless. Shit. Had she drunk blabbered all that? Had she told him everything? About the money and the deal with Romania?

"Tell me, y/n. Are those true?"

She couldn't tell him the full truth just yet, but she could tell him some of it. She nods.

He groans, running a hand through his hair. "How do you know? And tell me everything you know, right now."

"I um one of my friends recognized you, and they told me all this information about you."

"What friend?"

"Um, T-Tony?"

"What does Tony do?"

"He um...he's in the media.", she stumbles out another lie. There was no Tony.

"I need his number, I want to ask him myself.", Harry tells her, making her sweat.

"I'm not sure if I have his number-"

"Isn't he your friend?" Harry looked angry now, and that's the last thing y/n wanted.

"Was, not anymore. I'll find out his number, okay? I'll uh tell you what I know in the meantime."

Harry nods, not even blinking as he listens to her. y/n told him everything she knew. "R-Reagen died that day..but you lived. T-That's the story.", she completes.

She studies Harry's face which appeared expressionless, then he buries his face in his hands. "I don't remember any of that, y/n."

"I-It might not be true, Harry, that's the story I know.", y/n rubs his back gently. "I-I'm a doctor, I don't do all that stuff..", he whispers. y/n scoots closer to him and hugs him tight. She knew that. She knew Harry in front of her wouldn't do all that.

"That's why those men were following you and they're all scared of you Harry. Even if you get back a small piece of who you were, they don't stand a chance against you.", she speaks softly. He looks up at her, eyes watery. "A-Are you scared of me too? Is that why you kept all this from me?"

"No, I just didn't want to upset you.", y/n cups his face. "I'm not scared of you Harry, I never was and I never will be. You saved me. I know you'll never hurt me. I feel safe in your arms, I feel loved. I know who you are. You're a brave and kind man. No matter what I hear, that's what I'll believe, okay?"

Harry buries his head into her neck, and she wraps her arms around him, cupping the back of his head. "I love you and my feelings are real. That will never change."

"I-I love you too.", Harry whispers. She held him while he processed everything. She made sure to tell him that it might just be a stupid story with zero truth in it. y/n still hadn't told him everything, but she would, in time.

"You trust me?", Harry asks her, and she nods, kissing him. "I trust you."

Harry pulls her onto his lap as they kiss, y/n's hands moving to his hair. His lips attacked hers roughly and desperately. She feels him getting hard, and starts moving, straddling his lap, making him groan. 

"Let me make you feel good, Harry.", she whispers as she tugs his shirt off. She had to distract him from thinking more into Tony or anything else, she didn't want him to get worked up. Harry's hand grabs the back of her neck, pulling her lips away from his. "Get on your knees."

y/n bites her lip, getting off of his lap. She loves when he gets dominant in bed. Maybe it's because she's so busy and in charge of her life, she likes to be manhandled and thrown around a bit in bed. It's like a stress buster. And sex with Harry always feels so good.

y/n gets on her knees on the floor as Harry takes off his pants and sits back down on the bed. y/n palms him through his boxers, and he sucks in a breath. "Go on, take me out."

y/n obeys, her fingers slipping inside the waist band of his boxers, and slowly pulling them down his legs. "You're so big.", she murmurs, admiring his thick, long, dick. She wonders how that fits inside her.

Harry smirks, looking at her as she takes his dick in her hand, stroking it from it's base to the top, dangerously slow. Her other hand played with his balls, squeezing them ever so gently. 

"You're such a tease.", he says, looking down at her. "Wait. Take off everything except your panties."

"Whatever you say.", she pulls away to take her top off, leaving her upper half bare. She hadn't worn a bra. She slipped of her shorts as well, leaving just her panties as he asked. Her nipples were hard, and Harry groaned at the sight of her on his knees for him, ready to pleasure him. He leans down to cup one of her breasts and squeezes. "Are you gonna be a good girl and take this big cock down your throat?"

Harry's eyes were dark with lust, and y/n moans, "Y-Yes, Harry."

"Get to work.", he says, sitting back up. She keeps her eyes on him as she spits on his dick, and rubs it all over. He groans, hands going to hold her hair up for her.

y/n teases him at first, slowly running her tongue along his length, while her hands palm his balls. She leaves little kisses on his dick. Harry was getting painfully hard and frustrated.

"Okay that's enough, put me inside your mouth or I'm going to do it myself.", Harry mutters, not able to handle the teasing anymore. She takes him in her mouth and he lets her adjust, trying hard not to just push it down her throat.

"That's a good girl.", he coos, and curses as she bobs her head up and down his length. "Fuck."

She was driving him crazy. Her pretty lips wrapped around his cock, her gorgeous eyes looking up at him like she only wanted to please him, that was enough to drive Harry over the edge. She moves her head further down, gagging around him, her eyes watering but she loves it. 

"Oh bloody hell, that feels so good. Are you gagging around me, baby?", Harry moans. She knew how badly he wanted to just have his way with her. She pulls out. "Fuck my mouth.", she tells him. 

"Beg for it.", he says, continuing to stroke his dick as she stops. He pinches one of her nipples, and she clenches her thighs together. She was getting so wet. "P-Please Harry, fuck my mouth."

"That's not good enough, try harder baby.", Harry rolls her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

"Please make me gag. Make me choke on your big dick, Harry. Use my mouth as you please."

Harry moves both of his hands back to her hair. "You're so fucking hot. Tap my thigh if it gets too much, alright?"

"Yes.", y/n smiles, opening her mouth wide for him, making her jaw go slack. "Your throat's gonna to be sore by the time I'm done with you, darling. You asked for it.", he says before thrusting his dick into his mouth.

y/n chokes as his dick touches the back of her throat, and she feels the sting on her scalp as he moves her head up and down by her hair. He pulls her away to give her a second to breathe, before pushing it back in her mouth, keeping her head still as he moves his hips. Saliva drips down her chin. 

"So f-fucking good for me.", he moans, legs starting to shake as he feels him getting close. He pushed her head down, and tears run down her cheeks as she gags around him, her nose buried into his hound. 

"Just like that, baby, your mouth feels s-so good. I-I'm going to cum."

He pulls her head up. "F-Fuck..."

"G-Give it to me Harry, cum for me.", she whispers, her voice coming out hoarse. Harry strokes his dick, and she opens her mouth to catch his cum as it shoots out. She hums, tasting him on her tongue. 

"Keep your mouth open.", he groans and moves his dick to paint some of his cum over  her chest. y/n sits like a perfect girl, tears running down her cheeks, mouth open holding his cum, and her beautiful breasts covered in his cum as well.

"You look so pretty like this.", Harry strokes her hair. "Swallow."

She does, and shows him her empty mouth. He grabs her jaw to see. "Good girl."

She smiles, pleased with his praise. Her fingers scoop up the rest of his cum on her body and brings it back to her lips, cleaning it off, all while looking at him. "Tastes so good.", she tells him.

"Yeah? Stand up, baby." 

She raises on her legs, and he pulls her in between his knees. He taps her thigh and she separates them. Harry's fingers touch her wet core through her thin panties. "Did you get so wet from gagging on my cock, y/n?"

"Uh huh..", she's tempted to close her legs. "All for you."

Harry hums, tugging on her wrist. "Bend over my lap, let me take a good look at that beautiful pussy."

She listens, bending over his thighs and Harry adjusts her so her ass is propped up and her feet are dangling. 

Harry's hands go to her panties, and he rips them apart. "Oh god.", y/n moans. Everything he did was so hot. "I liked that.", she pouts, her poor panties.

"Sorry baby, I'll buy a new one.", Harry grins, throwing the cloth pieces away after ripping it in half. He spreads her cheeks apart, looking at her glistening pussy. "You're dripping, sweetheart. Oh, look at all that sweetness."

"Please Harry.", she whines as his fingers stroke over her folds, feeling the moisture. 

"You want my fingers? My mouth?", he asks, enjoying her being a mess for him. 

"A-Anything, please." She starts to use his thigh, moving down on it to cause some friction and yelps as his hand comes down on her bottom. "Did I tell you to move?"

"No, sorry.", she moans. "More, please."

"More? You like it when I slap your ass, baby?", he asks, giving her another slap. He groans, watching her ass jiggle from the hit. 

"Fuck, yes.." She gasps as he spanks her again. She loved the pain, and as the sting faded away, she was only left with pleasure. Harry's hand smoothed over the sting, before he thrust his fingers inside her pussy without warning, making her let out a scream and hold on to his legs for support. "P-please, please..", she begs, as he spreads her legs with his knee.

He pulled his fingers away to give her ass another swat, making her whimper. She was getting dizzy from all the pleasure. "Feels good, doesn't it? You gonna cum, baby?"

"Y-Yes, yes..oh.." His fingers curl around her g-spot and she's a mess on his lap as she tries to lay still. It felt so good. "Come on, cum for me.."

y/n's sure she's seen stars, as Harry helps her through her orgasm. All the blood was rushing to her face as she was dangling on his lap. Harry notices and places a pillow beside him, before bringing her up so her head's laying on the pillow. He also lifts her legs and lays them on the bed. 

Harry brings his fingers to his lips, tasting her. "So sweet, baby."

He takes some of it dripping out of her, bringing it to her lips. "Here, clean my fingers, darling."

y/n's lips wrap around his fingers as she sucks on them. He pulls his fingers out of her mouth and brings it back to her pussy, making her whimper.

"What? Is your little pussy sensitive already?", Harry chuckles. "Okay, I'll give you a few minutes. How bout I play with your other hole?"

She gasps as he spreads her cheeks with one hand, and circles his finger over her asshole. She grips onto the sheets, letting out a small whine. "I will fuck you in this little hole one day. I bet it'll be tight like your pussy."

He pushes his finger into her asshole, and she moans at the new feeling. "Harry.."

"So tight, and pretty." He spits on her hole, and pushes his finger back in. "Would you like that baby? I'll fill all your holes up, and you'll take it, won't you?"

"Yes, yes I will. Please." She whines when he pulls his finger out, and he laughs. "Not today, you're very tight and we don't have lube. I don't want it to hurt. Some other time, huh, baby?"

He sits her up on his lap. "I want you to ride me. Your tits look so pretty and perky today, I want them bouncing on my face."

She looks at his dick which was hard again, standing up straight. "That's what you do to me.", he says, and she grins, placing her hands on his shoulders as she gets comfortable. Harry holds her hips, and guides them over him as she sinks down on him slowly. 

y/n moans, feeling him deep inside of her. Harry moves one hand from her hip to her clit, his thumb rubbing slow circles over her sensitive bud of nerves, as she starts moving. 

"F-Fuck, Harry..", y/n's body over flows with pleasure. "Let me hear how much you like it, baby.", Harry says, watching her breasts bounce up and down as she rides him.

"G-God it feels so g-good, so good."

Her thighs were burning, and her body was tingling. His dick felt so good inside her, and if he kept up with her clit rubs, she was going to cum again within minutes. Harry takes one of y/n's nipples into his mouth, sucking on it. 

"H-Harry I'm gonna-"

"-Already? I think you can hold it for a bit.", he tells her, teeth grazing against her nipple as he looked up at her. y/n moans, trying to keep her pace, but she slowed down. Her thighs were burning and shaking with too much pleasure. 

"Be a good girl for me.", Harry murmurs. "You're my dirty little slut, aren't you?"

She yelps as his hand slaps her ass before squeezing the stinging flesh. "Y-Yes.." She tried to move, but she couldn't. "Harry.."

"What's wrong baby? My cock too much for you?", he teases.

"P-Please fuck me, please.", she begs. 

"Since you asked so nicely.", he grins, grabbing her hips again.

Her fingers curled around his shoulders and she screamed as he thrust his hips, hard and fast. She was almost falling off his lap. 

"You can cum, baby.", he tells her, and her eyes roll back in her head as she lets go. Harry fucks her through her orgasm and it hurts from over sensitivity before it feels good again, Harry doesn't stop. "W-Who's making you feel so good?"

y/n couldn't answer. Harry brings one hand to wrap around her throat. "I asked you a question."

"Y-You. You, Harry..", she moans, and her vision goes blurry as his fingers press against the sides of her throat. He was driving her crazy. "T-That's right."

y/n looked so divine, covered in sweat, cum, and tears as she bounced on his cock. Harry released inside her soon, and she cums again. She slumps on him, exhausted and he wraps his arms around her before falling back on the bed, letting her lay on top of him.

They breathe heavily, taking a moment to recover, before y/n looks up at him. Harry smiles at her, stroking her hair back gently, before taking her chin and bringing her close for a kiss. "T-That was crazy.", she whispers. "I can't feel my legs."

Harry laughs, running his hand down her back. "I'm sure it'll be fine after a nice warm shower and a small nap."

"I do need a shower, but you might have to carry me inside."

"With pleasure.", he nods, and kisses her nose. "I love you, sunshine."

"I love you too, H.", she squeezes her arms around his waist. "You're perfect."

After a few minutes of laying down and catching their breath, Harry carries y/n to the shower,  holding her under the warm water. He mumbles praises against her skin as he washes her, and she tangles her hands into his hair as she massages the shampoo into his locks. It was very relaxing. 

So relaxing, that Harry let his mind wander. y/n kisses his chin, looking at him fondly as she continues to wash his hair.

"What's on your mind?", she asks, after a few minutes.

Harry turns the water back on, running his hands through his hair as he washed the shampoo out. "I was thinking about everything you told me. She's not dead, y/n."

"W-Who's not dead?", y/n asks, although she feared the answer.

"Reagen. She didn't die."

y/n felt like throwing up.

"They were in love. Love like you've never seen before. Harry would do anything and everything for her.", Romania's words ring in her ear. Reagen wasn't afraid of anything. She didn't have anyone. Harry was her world."

Maybe Harry was starting to remember things, and his mind didn't want to believe that his love was dead.

"H-Harry, I'm sorry but, Reagen is dead.", y/n says slowly, rubbing his arm. "Only you survived after that night-"

"-No.", Harry cuts her off, staring right into her eyes. "Reagen's alive, y/n. I don't know where she is, but I know that she's not dead. Things..they're coming back to me."

[lowkeychenle]

See My Sea [ZCL] (M)

Description: You never expected your lab partner to be the captain of the basketball team...or a decent human being, but you get proved wrong twice. Despite a rocky past of your own, you find yourself falling for him faster than you thought. Maybe, with his help, you can finally find your way home and see your sea.

A/N: this is inspired by Marine Turtle sort of ??? it just gave me these vibes oops. HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!! I hope u take this fic with u into 2024 lol

Genre: Fluff/Smut/Angst (College AU where Chenle is captain of the basketball team like he DESERVES)

Content Warnings: SLOW BURN! Drinking, alcohol, intoxication, some instances of friends being shitty, verbally abusive ex-boyfriend appearances, mentions/instances of anxiety and insecurity, a panic attack Smut warnings: This might be some of my mildest smut omg, usage of pet names 'baby' and 'sunshine,' oral (f & m receiving), slight dirty talk? there's not much rip

Word Count: 20,040

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x fem!Reader (feat. Mark & Jisung, a male OC named Woojin, and three female OCs, Soobin, Jiyoon, & Heewon)

Juliet's Masterlist | Tell me what you think? :)

Taglist: @carelessshootanonymous @thisisnotjacinta @soberhani @fullsunstrawberry @midmourn

“I think your answer’s wrong,” the boy next to you says, leaning over your shoulder to look.

You blink in frustration, already hating the new seating arrangement your college professor forced upon you. When you turn to give him your best glare, you hesitate for a brief moment when you see the genuine concern on his face.

His black hair is draped like a curtain over his forehead, just a bit too long. Soft brown eyes stare back at you, unblinking for several seconds as he scans over your expression. His lips are slightly parted as if he wants to continue, but isn’t sure what to say.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “It’s just…if you get it wrong, it kind of affects me now, too.”

“Why would it affect you?” You recoil and slide your paper farther from him.

“This…is a lab.” He frowns. “And that makes us lab partners for the foreseeable future.”

“Ah, great.” You close your eyes and drop your head into your hands.

“I’m trying to help,” he replies.

“Well, I actually prefer to work alone.”

You don’t know exactly where your snippiness is coming from, but you don’t appreciate this random ass guy trying to correct your work. He could’ve at least introduced himself first instead of immediately selecting the douchebag category.

“I don’t think we really have a choice.” He taps his fingers on top of the table. “Sorry if I pissed you off, I was just…”

He clicks his tongue, presses his lips into a thin line, and his eyebrows jolt up quickly before he turns away from you and back to his own work. You take a deep breath, your heart sinking at the idea of snapping at him when he didn’t deserve it.

It’s taken you a long time to get used to people genuinely trying to help you, and your brain sometimes doesn’t get the memo that not everything is a derogatory comment.

“Sorry,” you say softly, inhaling deeply. “You were being nice. And I’m being a bitch.”

“I wouldn’t use that word.” He snorts as he scribbles down some words on his paper.

“Seriously?”

“I don’t like using it in a bad way.” He sets his pencil down and runs his fingers through his hair to push it back.

You laugh. “Don’t men find things like that funny?”

“What kind of guys are you talking to?” The boy scrunches up his nose and shakes his head.

“I…” You pause, pursing your lips. That’s a good question. “But really, I am sorry. I hope we can rewind and work together.”

“Luckily for you, I don’t hold grudges.” He grins and holds his hand out to you. “I’m Chenle. I’m a senior getting a degree in music theory and I’m the captain of the basketball team.”

You think about the information for a second—he seems like a nice person from what you’ve seen thus far, but the basketball team makes him lose a couple points. Most boys in college sports don’t have the best reputations.

Your palm meets his as you take his greeting. “I’m (Y/N). I’m also a senior, but my degree is in Fine Arts. And I’m the captain of embarrassing myself and my friends.”

He chuckles at that one before brandishing his paper over to you.

“What?” you ask.

“I’m gonna help you figure out the right answer.” Chenle beckons you closer.

You hesitate for a moment, but eventually decide nothing will happen in the middle of your science lab. Scooting your chair over to his, you allow him to lean toward you. You ignore the nervousness gathering as the scent of his cologne invades your nostrils. It smells smoky, but in an artificial way. You doubt the man has ever touched anything bad for him in his entire life.

“This one is easy to fuck up,” he murmurs, his pencil scratching against the paper as he leads you through it.

You attempt to pay attention, but as much as you hate to admit it, the smell of him is intoxicating and him being near you has every single one of your senses on edge. Sweat starts to form on your skin, and you almost curse under your breath.

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, looks back at the paper, and then his gaze rests back on you, like whatever he saw during his first sweep caught his attention.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

You blink, frowning at him. “Why are you asking me that?”

“Uh.” He wets his lips, his cheeks reddening slightly beneath fluorescent lighting. “You’re staring at me instead of the answer I’m giving you.”

Embarrassment rushes through you like a wildfire in a dry forest, and you immediately snatch the assignment away from him and move your chair away. Disbelief wracks your body, because you only realize at that moment that he’s right—you were much more interested in his facial features and the softness of his skin instead of the only reason you let him around you in the first place.

It’s been a long time since anyone has distracted you in that way. All it does is make you want to run away at full speed, but there’s still a few minutes of class left.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything.”

“Just…forget it.” You shake your head. “I’ll figure this out so you don’t lose points.”

“And then what?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Huh?”

“It’s not only this assignment.” Chenle taps his fingers against the desk. “It’s all of them. And I don’t want to be a dick, but I’m kind of used to people staring at me.”

You laugh incredulously, dropping your head into your palms. “The universe has fucked me.”

He doesn’t respond, seemingly waiting for you to continue whatever’s on your mind.

“That was kinda douchey.” You fidget with your pencil.

“It’s not douchey if it’s true.” He scoffs. “And I haven’t even done anything to you, so I don’t understand where this hostility has come from after being around me for ten minutes.”

“I just don’t like—”

“Men?” he interjects.

“You.” 

“Okay, well.” He rolls his eyes, inhaling deeply. “I don’t know what your problem is. Did I breathe incorrectly in your direction? I’m trying to help you and you’re not being nice at all. You were the one staring at me, I feel like I should remind you of that.”

“I was not star—”

“Alright, class, your lab assignments have been finalized. You’ll be working with your partner for the rest of the semester, and if there are any issues, you’re adults. Figure it out. The first set of problems will be due tomorrow at the start of class,” the teacher interrupts your thoughts, and leaves both you and Chenle gaping.

“Professor, I have a basketball game tonight—”

“Well, then you’d better finish the worksheet early, Mr. Zhong,” she insists.

“For fuck’s sake,” Chenle murmurs under his breath, running his fingers through his hair. Stress melds through his expression as his brows pinch together, and it almost makes you feel bad for him.

You know next to nothing about basketball. In fact, you weren’t 100% aware your school even had a team.

After he takes a second to calm down, he turns to you. “What are you doing for lunch?”

“I meet my friends every day.” You shrug.

“Oh, great. I’m coming with you.” He starts shoving things into his bag, not giving you a second to comprehend what he’s saying.

“It wasn’t an invitation,” you say.

“I’m not failing because of you.” Chenle sets his bag down on the table. “I don’t know what I did to give you such a bad impression, but you haven’t done much better yourself, okay? The sooner we get this done, the sooner I can worry about getting to practice on time.”

“Practice? I thought it was a game.”

He stares at you blankly, blinking slowly. “I…I practice before my games.” His tone is sharp, as if he expects you to know that already.

“You’re the captain.”

“No shit.” Irritation sparks in his gaze. “Which means I have to be good. And prepared.”

“Now who’s being a dick?” you shoot back. “Am I supposed to just know everything about you already?”

“This…is going to be fucking impossible.” He massages his forehead and takes a deep breath. “We’ll try to finish it in the next ten minutes before class ends, then.”

Spoiler alert, you don’t finish by the end of class, which means, unfortunately for you, you drag Chenle in tow with you to lunch, where your three friends wait for you. The girls are distracted in their conversation as you approach, and you already know what their reaction will be.

“(Y/N), you’re finally here—who’s this?” Alarm flares in Jiyoon’s brown eyes as she glances back behind you at Chenle as if you don’t know he’s there.

“You don’t know him?” Heewon asks. “Pretty sure that’s Zhong Chenle, you know, the captain of the basketball team. He’s friends with your boyfriend.”

“I’ve never seen him before.”

“Yeah, he’s right here.” You nudge Soobin’s arm so she’ll scoot over. “So if you could maybe not act like he’s not.”

“Why is he with you?” Soobin asks.

“It’s not by choice,” you grumble, dramatically gesturing to the seat next to you. “Did you guys eat yet?”

“I’m invading,” Chenle says. “I’ll go buy lunch, alright? Pizza good for everyone?”

“What? You don’t have to—”

“Just answer the question,” he says.

“Pizza’s good.” Jiyoon grins. “Thanks, Chenle.”

He presses his lips together, grabs his wallet out of his backpack, nods at you, and then heads in the opposite direction. You know the second he’s out of earshot, the girls won’t let this go. They apparently know more about him than you do, which isn’t all that surprising.

Jiyoon started dating Jisung a few weeks back, and while you’re happy for your friend (and the fact her boyfriend isn’t the worst man ever), you could never justify wasting your valuable time on anyone else right now.

“Yeah, just walk in with Zhong Chenle and don’t warn us first—”

“I didn’t even know he was a big deal. Or that he’d be coming for lunch,” you defend yourself. “We’re lab partners, and apparently, we’re being forced to work together.”

“He’s not a bad guy,” Jiyoon says. “From what I’ve heard from Jisung, he’s really passionate about basketball and stuff. So like, he takes it seriously. He’s not an ass.”

“That’s not what I’ve experienced.” You roll your eyes, wishing more than anything they would stop before they’re ahead.

“I get you’re in your ‘I hate men era’ or whatever, and I respect it, but you’re allowed to be friends with good guys. You’ll be hanging out around the team soon, anyway. Jisung wants to get our friend groups together.”

“Maybe Jisung isn’t awful, but you know how sports guys are.” You almost shiver involuntarily at the thought.

“Jisung wouldn’t hang around assholes, (Y/N),” Heewon interjects. “You haven’t met him. The kid’s an angel. You morph into the people you’re around, and if he was around dicks, he’d act like one. Or have a single red flag, at least.”

“And, to be honest, some of the team has been mentioned in some sketchy situations, but I’ve heard good things about Chenle, Jisung, and Mark. They’re not man-whores, and they—”

“Glad to hear that’s a criteria for being a good guy.” Chenle’s voice nearly sends Soobin’s soul out of her body.

Her cheeks and the tips of her ears turn bright red, and she quickly mutters out an apology.

He puts the box in the middle of the table, a small chuckle passing by his full lips as he takes a seat next to you. “No worries. I’ll pass the message to Mark. He’ll get a good laugh out of it, considering he’s probably got the highest body count on the team.”

You shift away from him slightly, this topic of conversation not entirely helping your situation with him.

“Mark?” Jiyoon snorts. “Mark Lee?”

“Surprisingly, I don’t know any other Mark.” Chenle grins. “But not every guy is vocal about how much he gets laid. Girls throw themselves at him—”

You tense, wanting nothing more than for the conversation to stop. Chenle cuts himself off, a minuscule glance in your direction making his eyebrows pinch before his poker face returns.

“Anyway, pizza.” He clears his throat, gesturing to the box.

“Wow. Mark Lee.” Heewon runs her tongue over her teeth. “And what does a girl have to do to get on that donation list?”

Jiyoon elbows her, nodding in your direction. An odd silence fills the table before Soobin opens the box and grabs the first slice. Your appetite has oddly disappeared, and none of your friends seem to realize it.

Chenle continues his conversation with Jiyoon—something about Jisung and the practice dates—but while he does that, his pen scratches across the paper on the table in front of you, and when he slides it in your direction, it’s almost unnoticeable.

you should eat

You nearly scoff, grabbing a pencil out of your bag to write your response while your friends still cluelessly converse.

not hungry

“You know, we’re having a party after the game,” Chenle mentions. “You guys should come. Assuming we win, it’ll be time for celebration.”

“Oh, you’ll win.” Jiyoon’s eyes widen. “I’ve seen clips of games online and stuff. Mostly Jisung’s. But if you’re all that good, I can’t imagine you’d lose.”

“Glad to see you’re as obsessed with him as he is with you.” He chuckles and runs his fingers through his hair. “You should all go.”

His gaze rests on you, and Soobin laughs outwardly.

“(Y/N) doesn’t go to parties.”

“Why not?” He frowns.

“It’s a long story,” you interject before any of your friends can spill your secrets. “But maybe it’s time for a change. I’ll go. If Jiyoon is going and if she promises not to ditch me for Jisung.”

“Oh, please, you haven’t been to a party since before Wooj—” Heewon stops herself with a hand over her mouth. She cringes as your chest deflates.

Leave it to your friends to rehash old wounds. You already had a shitty day between your random argument with Chenle, him tagging along with you for lunch, and now Heewon is basically telling him your secrets buried deep.

“Um,” you say, sighing. “We have an assignment to do. Do you want to go to the library or something?” When you turn to look at Chenle, he’s already gathering his things and shoving his materials in his bag.

“Yeah, sure.” His eyes scan over the table. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“(Y/N), I didn’t—”

“Not now, Heewon.” You shake your head, slinging your bag over your shoulder and heading off without another word.

It’s been many, many months since Woojin was in your life. The man who essentially tore your life apart little by little until there wasn’t anything of the real you left. You were a shell of who you used to be, and it took you much too long to realize it. Hell, you’re not 100% sure if you’ve even brought yourself back from that brink. It’s hard to figure out who you are when the person who’s supposed to love you not only drags you down to the bottom of the ocean, but buries you beneath the sand.

But none of your friends get it. They see who you are now—a mask of confidence shielding the gaping open wound—and assume you’re normal again.

Healing isn’t a straight line. You don’t wake up one day and decide to be okay, and admittedly, there are some mornings that are better than others. For most, you find it hard to come up with a reason to pull yourself out of bed.

Chenle follows you silently as you walk across campus for the library. He walks side-by-side with you and stops once he sees the cafe come into view.

“Hey, I’m gonna get some coffee,” he says. “Come with?”

“Uh, yeah. We can just do the work in there, if that’s okay.”

He gives you a half smile and nods, gesturing toward the building for you to lead the way. Once you make it to the door, he opens it for you. You frown, but walk in regardless.

“I’ll get it. What do you usually order?” he asks.

“Oh, no, that’s okay.” You wave him off. “I can get my own—”

“Tell me.” His tone is soft, yet firm, as if you don’t really have any other option but to tell him what coffee you want.

With a sigh, you tell him your order and he walks off with a smug smile on his face. You set all of your stuff up on one of the tables, deciding which questions you need to work on first while you wait for Chenle.

He places a cup in front of you before clasping both hands around his own. Standing there, he doesn’t move until you look up at him, wondering why the hell he isn’t sitting down.

“Can we start over?” he asks. “We clearly got off on the wrong foot, and I don’t want you to hate the entire semester if you’ve got to work with me.”

You pause, clearing your throat. “I’d prefer it that way, I think. If we started over, I mean. I was kind of a bitch, and it wasn’t even your fault, I just…have some issues with trusting people.”

“I noticed.” He chuckles, a grin plastering on his face as he takes his seat across from you. “And I still don’t like that word.”

“Sorry. I was being an ass. Is that better?”

“Yeah, it is. You were an ass.” He sips his drink.

You press your lips together to stop your laugh, but it doesn’t prevent your eyes from rolling.

“And I’m sorry, too. If I made you uncomfortable earlier. Or if I did, indeed, do something to make you hate me randomly.” His fingertips tap against the table. “It really wasn’t my intention.”

“It’s not you. At all.” You scoff to yourself, flipping through the stack of papers before you. “I don’t want to talk about it. But I’ll try to remind myself people are innocent until proven guilty.”

“So…you’ll come tonight?” Chenle hesitates briefly, wetting his lips. “You could come to the game, too. I’m sure Jiyoon would like someone to sit with besides Jisung’s parents.”

“I know nothing about basketball,” you reply, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Well, yeah, but you could always learn. And now you have friends on the team, so it doesn’t matter if you know or not.” He grabs the first assignment to look at it, pretending as if your answer doesn’t impact him.

You think about it for a moment. After all, maybe you were wrong about him—maybe he’s not some awful guy, and you were wrong to assume that after knowing him for five minutes. The longer you spend time with him, the more genuine he seems. You could use more friends, but you can’t help but wonder if Chenle is the type of guy you should entertain.

Woojin had you fucked up. Between the sports teams and friend groups and everything that went wrong with him, it was so hard to even imagine being friends with Chenle or any of the other guys on the basketball team.

“I’ll think about it,” you mutter. “Don’t get your hopes up about the game, but I’ll be at the party for sure.”

“Party’s a strong word, by the way. It’s just the team and our close friends, so it won’t be like…a rager or anything.”

You nod, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Alright. We should get started before we run out of time again.”

You weren’t planning on going to the game. Not in the slightest. But when the time got closer and closer to seven, you realized there was an odd urge within you that made you want to go. You made the split second decision to text Jiyoon and tell her to pick you up.

Jiyoon brought you a shirt to wear—a simple school T-shirt that said the basketball team’s name on it—and insisted you change before the two of you left. You did as she said, and by the time you got to the gym, you were almost regretting your decision.

You and Jiyoon sat in the bottom row right in the middle. There goes the opportunity to pretend you weren’t there. Maybe he wouldn’t see you. He’ll be too focused on the game, and he won’t even give you a second glance. You’re not sure why the idea of him knowing you’re here makes you so God damn sweaty, but you choose to ignore it.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jiyoon asks, nudging your arm.

“Huh? Nothing.” You shake your head. “I’m good.”

She clicks her tongue. “I’ve been your friend for years, (Y/N). You look nervous.”

“I don’t think I should really be here, I guess, like…I was an ass to him earlier, and now I’m sitting here like I know what I’m watching and like I belong here when he probably doesn’t even like me at all—”

“Dude, you’re rambling,” she cuts you off, placing her palm on your shoulder. “You said he was the one who told you to come. So I don’t think being unwelcome is your problem. Everything’s gonna be fine! I promise. I give you full permission to stare at Jisung the whole time if you have to.”

“He’s not my type.”

“Is anyone at this point?”

“I…” You purse your lips. “I guess you’re right.”

You’re surprised to see the seats fill up quickly, and despite Jiyoon only dating Jisung for a few weeks, she seems really friendly with both of his parents as they sit down in the two spots next to her. Jiyoon leans close to you.

“The couple that just sat down next to Jisung’s parents are Chenle’s parents. Ji and Chenle have been friends since they were really young, I guess,” Jiyoon explains.

Curiosity gets the best of you, and when you look at them, you try to figure out which one he resembles the most. His mother turns and meets your gaze, and you quickly avert it as your face burns. What the hell are you doing?

You wait in anxious silence with Jiyoon until the game begins, and your eyes immediately seek out Chenle. At first, you think you’re looking for Jisung so you can point him out to Jiyoon, but you’re still watching the boys enter the court long after Jisung is already out.

When Chenle makes it out on the court, the wide smile on his face takes you off-guard. There’s no denying the truth—he’s attractive. That’s the extent of what you know about him at this point, but you see plenty of attractive men every day. It’s not like they’ve ever garnered your attention in a way that made you want to watch them.

Unlike earlier, his hair is part down the middle now, probably from running around in practice and preparing for the game. He runs his fingers through it as he walks up to Jisung. The taller man was already standing with their other friend, who you can only assume is Mark. Chenle’s jersey has his last name printed in big letters on the back, along with the number 30.

You try not to study him, but somehow he’s like a damn magnet. No wonder he said he was used to people staring at him.

Jisung glances once in your direction, and then he nudges Chenle and gives him a nearly non-existent nod. He turns, and the second he sees you, his brows jump up in some sort of surprise. Then he grins at you.

“You’re being weird,” Jiyoon mentions, breaking you out of your trance.

“Huh? How am I being weird? He looked at me.”

“Yeah…because he invited you. And you’re here.” She snorts, running her fingers through her hair. “Speaking of which, I think he’s coming over here.”

Your eyes widen, and your head shoots up just in time to see Chenle jogging over to you. You have to crane your neck upward to look at him when he’s right in front of you, and you’re sure the shock on your face is what causes laughter to drop past his lips.

He pulls a simple bracelet off his wrist—one made with blue and gold thread—and holds it out to you. “Wear this for me?”

You blink up at him. “Why?”

“If you wear it and we win, you’re our good luck charm,” he states simply.

Your cheeks burn (hopefully unnoticeably) as you gently take it out of his palm. Your fingertips brush against his skin despite how hard you tried to avoid touching him, and once it’s completely in your hand, he backs away from you as Jiyoon helps you tighten it around your wrist.

“Are we gonna—” Jiyoon starts.

“Say nothing,” you cut her off. “Not a single word about that.”

She giggles to herself. When the game is about to begin, Jiyoon leans forward, hyperfocused on Jisung and the way he carries himself. You want to make fun of her for it, but you know she’ll come back tenfold with jokes about Chenle.

“Also,” Jiyoon whispers, getting closer to you without removing her gaze from the court. “He was totally fucking with you. He just wanted you to wear it. They haven’t lost a game this entire season, so.”

“Why would he do that?” you ask.

This time, she does look at you. She clasps her hands together and stares expectantly.

“Oh, come on. Don’t be ridiculous.” You scoff.

“Dude. His parents are five feet away and he just asked you to be his good luck charm. For a game everyone already knows they’re going to win.” She shakes her head. “Maybe he’ll be good for you.”

“It’s been a day. One day. And I didn’t like him at all for most of it.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t usually like any man on the first meeting, so cut him some slack.” She pats your knee. “But also, the game’s starting, so watch.”

Honestly, you’re not sure what you were expecting. It’s been a long time since you’ve been to a sporting event—especially so for a man, but you try to convince yourself you’re here to spend time with Jiyoon.

But you have to admit, watching Chenle weave around the court is intriguing. He moves with unmatched grace. It looks effortless despite the amount of work you know goes into it. You fiddle with the bracelet on your wrist, chewing on your bottom lip as you concentrate on the way he blocks shots from guys much taller or how he never misses when he passes the ball.

“Told you he was good,” Jiyoon says.

“Sh.” You wave her off.

At one point, Chenle attempts a shot from the middle of the court. You’re hanging onto the details like a lifeline, afraid to even blink and miss something. Much to your surprise, your heart thuds in your chest.

And when the ball goes straight into the net, something launches you to your feet next to Jiyoon as you cheer. Thankfully, the entire section stood, so you didn’t look ridiculous by yourself, but Chenle looks over at you, almost like he’s checking if you saw the points he scored.

You didn’t realize how wide the smile on your face was until you made eye contact with him. Clearing your throat, you brush off your jeans and sit back down in your seat.

“Come on,” Jiyoon whispers. “He’s like…ugh. You should see where it goes.”

Your face burns. “I just like sports, Ji, okay?”

“You dirty liar.” She snorts. “You guys are lab partners anyway, so good luck trying to avoid him. He’s a good guy, he plays sports, he’s smart as hell, and I heard he can sing, actually—”

“I get it,” you grumble. “I’m not interested.”

“You just screamed and cheered when he made the half-court shot. You’re interested.” Jiyoon laughs. “Whatever happens…just let yourself have it, okay? Have a good time. You deserve it.”

Chenle’s team absolutely dominated the other one. They barely scored a couple points the entirety of the game. He didn’t have time to talk to you right when the game finished, as he went back to the locker rooms with the team, but you figured you’d see him at the party anyway.

Mark, Chenle, and Jisung rent a house together near the school, so that’s where their get-togethers take place. He didn’t lie when he said it was more of an intimate get together—only a handful of people were there when you arrived. As much as you would deny looking for Chenle, you spent half an hour doing so, scanning the room back and forth to find his presence, and you were completely lost. On the bright side, Jisung was also MIA, meaning Jiyoon stuck by your side in the kitchen as you made yourself a drink.

You sigh quietly to yourself, the sound almost lost in the music from the living room as you brace your palm on the counter.

“You good?” Jiyoon asks.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been to a party,” you remind her. “You know what happened last time. It just feels…out of place, I guess.”

“Yeah, well, nothing’s gonna happen like last time,” your friend reassures you. “Regardless of who it could be, the guys would never be okay with something like that.”

You tap your fingers, resuming your scan of the room. “They’re not even here.”

“(Y/N).” Jiyoon’s tone catches you off-guard, almost like it’s a bit sharp and pricking at your skin. “I know you don’t know them, but they’re good, okay? They’d never let anything happen to anyone. Let alone someone like you.”

You tilt your cup to your lips, taking a big sip of the fruit punch. When you set it back down, you make eye contact with Chenle, his back pressed against the door frame with his arms over his chest. Your breath hitches at the sight of him. His hair is damp, forehead exposed as the strands stick to the sides of his face. He wears a simple black T-shirt, but something about the way it fits him has every logical thought racing out of your head.

You hated feeling this way. Like you were intimidated by him and the softness of his presence. He made your palms sweat and your mind whirl.

“I’m gonna go find Jisung,” Jiyoon speaks up, bolting past Chenle before you can stop her.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” Chenle pushes himself off the wall, walking over to the counter opposite of you, gaze soft as he looks you over. He hones in on the bracelet on your wrist before flicking his eyes back to yours.

“I probably won’t stay long.” You wet your lips and sigh. “I just feel off.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks.

“With you?” You blink at him.

He chuckles, running his fingers through his damp hair. “Yeah, with me. There’s a swing out on the patio if you’d feel better away from people. It’s kinda stuffy in here.”

“It’s your party, though,” you remind him. “You just won a game, Captain. That’s a big deal.”

“My lucky charm was there.” He glances down at your wrist again.

Your cheeks burn, and you clasp your hands together behind your back. “The patio sounds nice.”

He gives a small, satisfied grin, and makes his way toward the door to your left. He opens it and waits. You get the hint, shuffling past him to the backyard. His scent—a graceful blend of vanilla and sandalwood—wafts toward you, fresh and strong. Once again, your face reddens at the realization of how much attention you’re giving him.

The porch is wooden, the slats beneath your feet slightly creaking as you walk to the swing. You watch Chenle closely as he follows you, equally relieved and disappointed by how much distance he leaves between the two of you.

You sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, you crossing your legs and Chenle using his feet to propel forward and backward without ever leaving the ground.

Breathing in the night air, you relish in how fresh it feels filling your lungs. Inside, your worries swarmed you, but out here, you’re alright.

Chenle closes his eyes and leans his head back, allowing you a moment or two to appreciate more of him. Your gaze sweeps down his face and over his neck, and you wonder why you’re even paying attention to such things.

“Why don’t you like parties?” he asks.

“It’s not that I don’t like them.” You shrug and pick at the seams on your jeans. “A couple bad experiences just…makes you weary, you know?”

“Sure.” He pauses. “Thanks for coming, by the way. To the game. And the party, too. We didn’t really start off on the right foot, but I’m glad we didn’t leave it there.”

“Oh, speaking of which.” You push your wrist toward him, the blue and gold thread wrapped around it reflecting the light from the opposite side of the window. “You can have this back now.”

“What’ll I do without my good luck charm?” He quirks an eyebrow at you.

You chuckle quietly and roll your eyes. “Jiyoon told me you guys don’t lose either way. I don’t think you need me.”

He tentatively wraps his fingers around your arm. Your gaze darts to his, the breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t expected the warmth from his touch, or the way you swore sparks just whizzed through your skin.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, giving you a gentle tug. “I’ll take it off if that’s what you want.”

You shuffle closer, and without much thought behind it, you’re nearly pressing against him, with your feet planted on the opposite side of his lap. You’re somehow not touching him still, but you’re engulfed in the body heat radiating off of him and the smell of his cologne.

He places your hand on top of your knee and twirls the bracelet around until he finds the knot. “Was it someone I know?” he asks, concentration taking over his tone.

“Who?”

“The guy that somehow convinced you not to go to parties anymore.” Chenle doesn’t look at you when he says it, he continues working away at the thread on your wrist.

“I don’t think so,” you reply, gulping as you pull away until the bracelet is out of his reach. “Not sure you really hang out with that crowd.”

He rests his hand on your knee, his face scrunched as he debates with himself what he should say. “I don’t know the full story, but nobody should control you. Especially not some dude who clearly is a prick. Whatever habits you picked up from him, I really hope you’re able to forget them and be who you want to be.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, not expecting the surge of emotions to hit you until your eyes start welling. You laugh at yourself, shaking your head and taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. For class today. I’ve learned it’s always better to assume the worst.”

“I noticed.” He smiles, tapping his fingers.

His feet keep the swing moving even with you positioned over him like this. You try to pretend you don’t feel the movement of his sweats against your jeans. What the hell’s gotten into you today?

“Keep the bracelet,” he says. “Can I give you my number? In case you ever need anything?”

You grab your phone out of your back pocket, unlock it, and hand it to him. “Just send yourself a text.” You lean closer while you watch his thumbs dance over the keyboard. His shoulder brushes yours, and when he finishes his text, he looks over at you.

You’re much nearer to him than you anticipated, gulping once you see the swirls of brown in his irises. He wets his lips, fingers splaying out further around your knee. Shifting toward you, he turns ever-so-slightly, his face only inches away from yours.

You’ve known him for less than twenty-four hours, but somehow, you find yourself wanting to kiss him. Maybe it’s from the way his full lips are parted, fresh mint on his breath, or perhaps it’s that odd craving of intimacy you’ve missed since you left Woojin in the first place.

“If you need anything,” he whispers. “Anything at all. Call me, okay?”

You nod, entranced by the little details of him that come together to make him who he is. The cologne. His finally-dried hair parted in the middle. The softness of his touch. His sympathetic stare that doesn’t feel at all like pity, but you can’t place how someone you just met could actually care about you.

“Sorry, for some reason, I just really, really want to—” He’s interrupted by the door opening, the music loud enough to make both of you freeze as if you’re doing something wrong.

“(Y/N), are you out here? Jiyoon said she left you alo—oh.” Soobin halts as soon as she sees you and Chenle. She blinks a few times, like that’ll change the sight in front of her.

“Where’s Heewon?” you ask.

“She went upstairs with Mark.”

Chenle snorts, scratching his forehead. “Girl knows what she wants, huh?”

“She’s not shy,” you reply.

“Are you ready to go?” Soobin asks. “Pretty sure Jiyoon plans on staying with Jisung, so I’m ready if you are.”

Disappointment floods your chest at the thought of cutting your conversation with Chenle short. You look at him to ask what he’d prefer.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”

He smiles softly. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

You not-so-gracefully swing your legs over his lap to reach the ground, stopping once you’re on your feet to glance back at him. “You sure you don’t want the bracelet back?”

“I like how it looks on you,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s all yours.”

You give him one last smile, and then you walk past Soobin inside. She leads you through the house to the front door, and it’s only when you’re in her car that she looks at you expectantly.

“What was that?” she asks you.

“What was what?”

She glares at you. “Oh, come on. You were on top of him. Your faces were so close I thought I was about to witness you kissing a man.”

“I was not about to kiss Chenle.” You give her a pointed look.

“Oh, my God, and now the man has a name?” Soobin’s face scrunches up. “First, Jiyoon starts dating Jisung, second, Heewon is hopping on Mark’s dick, and I really thought I’d be safe with you, but Chenle?”

“There’s nothing going on between me and him,” you remind her. “He’s my lab partner. And I’m allowed to have friends.”

She opens her mouth to speak, but your phone dings obnoxiously in your lap. You look at it, and when you see the contact name Chenle gave himself, you chuckle.

“Who is it?” Soobin asks.

“Oh, it’s…” you trail off, annoyance creeping in when you realize the reaction you just had to him. “It’s Chenle.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” She lets out an exasperated groan. “I’ve already lost the war.”

The next few weeks pass by. You see Chenle in class every day, and he somehow convinced you to go to the games he had over that span of time. Jiyoon hadn’t lied to you—they simply do win every game they have.

It became normal for not only Chenle to eat lunch with you, Heewon, Jiyoon, and Soobin, but Mark and Jisung, too. Seeing Mark actively talking to and hanging out with Heewon shocked you, but you were pleasantly surprised.

You’d grown quite accustomed to Chenle and his friendship, to the point where he always sat next to you, so close that your legs touched. His bracelet was still latched around your wrist. You rarely took it off, and when you did, the second you were able to put it back on, you did.

Jiyoon rests her head on Jisung’s shoulder, and his arm loops around her waist and pulls her tight. Mark whispers something to Heewon, who giggles and pushes his shoulder gently. Soobin sits next to you and Heewon, but the more the latter giggles, the closer to you Soobin scoots.

“(Y/N), you’re coming to the game tonight, right?” Mark asks from across the table.

“Unfortunately, you’ll be without me tonight,” you tell him, bumping your knee against Chenle’s. “I have a big test on Friday. But I’ll be at the party.”

Mark salutes you and gives you an apparent nod of approval. “Don’t know what Chenle will do without his good luck charm.”

“He’ll do just as well as he did before he knew I existed.” You laugh and run your fingers through your hair.

Chenle grabs your hand to look at the thread, gaze darting over to yours as a tiny smirk forms on his lips. “As long as you don’t take this off, I’ll be fine.”

“Right, because if I do, you’ll be so sad you can’t play.” You fake a pout, and his smirk turns into a full-blown grin.

“Broken hearts kill people, (Y/N). Be considerate.”

“Wow, they’re flirting in real time,” Jiyoon says, nodding.

“Weird, because Chenle doesn’t do that in front of us usually,” Jisung mutters back to her.

You crumple up one of the papers in front of you and throw it at your friends, and it bounces right off Jiyoon’s forehead. 

“Nice.” Chenle high fives you, and you laugh at Jiyoon’s narrowed eyes.

Neither of you deny what’s happening, and it makes your stomach twist and turn with something you can’t recognize. Whatever’s happening to you, you don’t hate it, but it makes you nervous. Your heart races in his presence, and any time you’re alone with him, you want to kiss him.

Soobin and Heewon have another class to attend, so Mark offers to walk them there. The three of them stand and say their goodbyes. Mark loops his arm through Heewon’s and watches her fondly as he walks away with her.

“I thought he was a player,” you muse. “Now he’s all over her.”

“No, no,” Chenle replies. “I said he has the highest body count. But when he likes someone, he takes it seriously. He’s not a player or anything, he just happens to like sex.”

You nod in understanding and shrug. “I guess I didn’t think that was possible.”

“I mean, no offense to Heewon at all, but we were surprised he wanted more. Not anything to do with her, but he was just planning on going with the flow for the last couple semesters,” Jisung adds, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Surprised on behalf of Mark, I get it.” You hold your hands up before dropping them back in your lap. Grabbing your bottle of water, you sip from it.

“And what about you two? You seem awfully close lately. Anything happening behind closed doors?” Jiyoon wiggles her eyebrows, and you full-on choke on your drink.

“Classy,” Chenle says to her, putting his hand on your lower back. “Are you okay?”

“Yep.” You try to clear your throat, your face burning at the realization he hasn’t vehemently denied or confirmed anything. Like he’s not going to answer until you’ve made yours clear.

“It’s a pretty simple question,” Jiyoon replies. “And you guys have been hanging out a lot. And I don’t really think he can say he doesn’t want to—”

His touch is now burning a hole right through the small of your back, and when you tense up, he’s quick to remove it.

“I don’t think we should talk about this,” Chenle interjects, resting his elbows on the table.

“See? That wasn’t a denial.” Jiyoon grins widely as if she’s proud of herself.

Your friend seems acutely aware you haven’t said anything either, and you know this is her way of trying to push you out of your shell. Chenle’s not denying his attraction to you, and you almost prefer it this way. Most people would jump to the ‘no, we’re just friends’ much too quickly for comfort, but it’s clear he’s not going to do anything to confuse you.

“I’ll see you after the game, right?” he asks, gaze soft despite the topic Jiyoon brought up.

You smile at him. “Yeah, of course. If I finish my homework at a decent time, I’ll try to make the game.”

“Cool.” He nods and stands up. “Jisung and I have a class, so I’ll see you later.”

Jisung kisses Jiyoon, placing his hand on the back of her neck. It lasts too long for comfort, which leaves you and Chenle to exchange awkward looks. Jisung pulls away first, pressing another quick peck to her cheek before he stands up and walks away with Chenle.

“I feel like that wasn’t really necessary.” You scrunch your face at her.

“The second you kiss Chenle, you’ll realize how necessary it really is.” Jiyoon grins, reaching into her backpack for a bag of chips. “It’s been a while for you. Live a little. Not that you’ve ever really…had a good experience with that kind of stuff.”

“Ah yes, thank you for the reminder.” You snort, looking over your shoulder to see Chenle and Jisung in the distance. “I will not be kissing Chenle.”

“Why not?”

“Why would I?” you counter.

“Uh, because you like him?”

“Kissing requires both parties wanting it, Ji.” You shuffle through your notebook, absentmindedly looking at your notes.

She frowns at you in silence.

“What?”

“You think that man doesn’t want to kiss you? Or get you undressed?”

“Okay, maybe. But just because we want to doesn’t mean we should. Or that we will.” You close your book and sigh as you look at your friend. “I’m not ready for something like that.”

“Not ready? That’s such a sad excuse and you know it. He’d never treat you like Woojin did.”

“It’s really only been a few months, okay? If he really likes me, he’ll give me time. If not, he’ll move on, and we’ll be the same way we have been for the past few weeks. We’re friends, Ji.” You gather your things to put them in your bag.

“I think you’re just scared he doesn’t want you.” Jiyoon narrows her eyes at you. “Try it. Literally try to kiss him tonight and see what happens.”

“You’re crazy. I will see you at the party.” But as you finally move away from your friend, images of kissing Chenle flash in front of your brain, and you realize how much that really is everything you want.

You were gonna kiss him. After the rest of the afternoon debating with yourself, you decided that was the best course of action. The past be damned, you deserve good things—and if Chenle is one of those things, then so be it.

You’ve been at his house for an hour, hanging out with him, Jisung, Mark, and a handful of other people you didn’t really know. You sat next to him on the couch, his arm loosely thrown over the cushion behind you.

Shifting closer to him, you rest your head on his shoulder, and his grip tightens naturally, his fingertips brushing the skin of your forearm. There’s no way you’ll kiss him in front of a group of people, but you’re not sure how to pull him away. He talks animatedly with his friends, laughing and celebrating their most recent win.

After a few moments, he leans close to whisper in your ear. “You okay?”

“Hm?” You blink at him, turning and nearly forgetting how to breathe when you see how easy it would be to press your lips to his. “Yeah, I’m good.” You lift your drink, but as soon as you do, someone hits Chenle’s arm behind you, and it makes you jolt as well, half of your alcohol pouring down your front. You gasp at the chill, gaping as you stand up.

“What the fuck?” Chenle sits up to put his drink down, throwing a glare over his shoulder to whoever ran into him.

Before you say anything, he’s right next to you with his hand on the small of your back. You allow him to lead you to the stairs, your face hot with embarrassment.

“Sorry, Chenle, I should go home and change—”

“You can just put something of mine on,” he says, opening the first door on the right and allowing you to walk in first.

The room is somewhat bare, beige walls and dark flooring. There’s nothing really showing someone lives here despite the sweatshirt haphazardly thrown over the desk chair. His bed isn’t made, the gray comforter bunched in the middle.

The music fades to background noise when he closes the door behind him. He goes into his dresser and pulls out a black T-shirt. When he hands it to you, you timidly take it from him.

“You can change, I’ll wait for you downstairs,” he tells you, already turning.

“Chenle, wait,” you call out, cringing at how quickly you said it. “Stay. Just…close your eyes or something.”

“Okay.” He frowns in confusion, but nods, facing the opposite direction.

Without wasting any more time, you pull your ruined shirt over your head and exchange it for his. It’s the school’s logo on the front, and even though you don’t look, you know his jersey number and last name are on the back.

Nerves eat away at your stomach as you approach him. Logically, you know he won’t reject you. He likes you just as much as you like him, but something still has you choking on the thought.

You put a hand on one of his shoulders. “Chenle.”

He gulps as he turns back to face you, but you don’t give him the time to say anything. Your hands move from his shoulders up to his face, cupping his cheeks and pulling him toward you. He allows it, gaze meeting yours once before his eyes flutter shut and your mouths meet.

His lips fit so perfectly with yours, it has you sighing against him. He wraps his arms around you, fisting your shirt as if he needs to ground himself. The pace is slow, his body flush to yours as your touch slides into his hair. It’s softer than you imagined it to be, and you just can’t get enough of him.

“Fuck, wait.” Chenle pulls away. “You’re not drunk, are you?”

You slap a hand over your mouth, face on fire as you turn away from him without an answer.

“Don’t go,” he says, reaching out for you. “Look at me and tell me you’re sober so I can kiss you again.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you allow him to pull you back until your chest bumps into his. You put your hands flat on his chest, surprised to find his heart thumping just as hard as your own beneath your palm.

“I think you forgot you made me the one drink I had…half of.” You peer at him through your lashes, the shine of your lip gloss reflecting off his lips.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he groans, his hand finding the back of your neck.

As soon as his mouth is on yours, your body arches into his, molding into him like you’re an extension of him. You’re not sure exactly what you’re doing, but you know you’ve never felt so comfortable with anyone else before. You move him backward until the backs of his knees press against his bed.

“(Y/N),” he whispers as you push him down until he sits on the mattress.

“Is this okay?” you ask him.

“Yeah,” he mutters breathlessly, pulling at you. “C’mere, Sunshine.”

A shiver runs down your spine as you climb onto his lap, staring right into his eyes while you crave his kiss. You reach up and swipe your thumb across his bottom lip, entranced. “Call me that again.”

“Sunshine.” He presses you as close as possible by the small of your back. “My Sunshine.”

You kiss him, and when you shift on top of him, you gasp at the feeling of him hardening beneath his sweatpants.

“‘M sorry,” he murmurs. “We can stop—”

“Is that what you want?” you ask him, leaning back to look at his face.

He shakes his head, and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him so nervous. For the most part, Chenle’s a confident man, so seeing him with even the slightest bit of hesitation warms your heart. His vulnerable side is on full display for you, and you’ll be damned if you’re the one who stops this moment.

“But, (Y/N), I need you to know that—”

“Chenle, can you come help? This fucking guy won’t—Oh, shit. My bad.” Mark stands in the doorway, and instead of flying off Chenle’s lap, you bury your head in his neck. He cradles the back of your head as he looks at his friend.

“What’s going on?” Chenle asks.

“Some dude is refusing to leave but he’s been making a couple girls uncomfortable, and I have no idea where Jisung is.”

“Probably in his room with his girlfriend.” His chest rumbles as he narrows his eyes at Mark. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

You move off his lap and sit next to him on his bed. He presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

“I’ll be right back.” And then he’s gone, following Mark downstairs.

You lie flat on his bed, patting your cheeks and fighting off a smile at the thought of what you just did. Amidst your happiness cloud, you don’t realize your phone is vibrating in your pocket until it’s on the last ring. You grab for it, unsure of who would be calling you at a time like this when all of your friends are downstairs.

When you see the screen, you immediately shrink in on yourself. The contact name has been labeled as “don’t answer,” and by that logic, you already know who it is. As soon as you see it, the call stops, and it turns into a notification instead. You anxiously wait for the second call, knowing Woojin better than you’d like to.

Your breath catches in your throat and anxiety sprouts at the base of your spine, and sudden guilt smashes into you when you process what you’ve done with Chenle. Your hands shake as you get a second notification, one that notifies you that you’ve received a voicemail.

You unlock your phone and immediately play the message.

“How fucking stupid do you think I am? Like I haven’t heard what’s going on with you and Chenle. Seriously, (Y/N)? You gonna let the whole basketball team get in your pants, too? He’s not as good as me. I bet every time you’re on his dick, you wish you were with me. You’ll come back when you realize he doesn’t really want you. The second you stop putting out, he’ll drop you so fast, just wait. The thought of you with him makes me so fucking—wait ‘til I fucking see him, and you’ll see. Do you know what you’ve done? You’re such a bitch, you’re pitting people against each other. I’ll get you back.”

The voicemail ends abruptly, and bile rises in your throat. Your eyes well with tears, and you cradle your knees up to your chest, your phone falling onto Chenle’s mattress. You become acutely aware of the way his shirt feels on your skin, and your guilt rages on. You’re not sure how long you’re sitting there before Chenle comes back.

But it doesn’t matter, because you’re hysterical—you can’t understand a word of what he’s saying, and you fight against his grasp like he’s suddenly not the same man you know.

“Hey.” He cups your cheeks, stopping your abrupt movements and forcing you to look into his eyes. “Breathe, talk to me. What the hell just happened?”

Your chest heaves and you stare at him in shock. You’re sure anyone else would have sent you away at the sight of the mess you became in seconds.

“Was it me? Did I do this?” he asks, thumbs stroking your skin.

Your heart pangs in your chest, and you quickly shake your head, unable to open your mouth to explain. Chenle’s face scrunches in relief as his chest deflates.

“Come here.” He tugs at you until you practically fall into his lap. You curl into him, and he lets you cry on his shoulder.

“Sorry,” you choke out, gripping onto his sleeve. “I wanted tonight to—”

“Don’t do that,” he says. “You don’t need to apologize to me. Can you…please tell me what happened?”

You’re almost too embarrassed to tell him about the message. He’d find out things about your past, and it might change his opinion of you. Although, the concern in his gaze as he wipes your tears away becomes enough convincing. This is Chenle. You trust him, inexplicably.

“Voicemail,” you whisper, jaw quivering all over again.

Chenle kisses your forehead and reaches for your phone. You feel queasy as he finds what he’s looking for and puts the device up to his ear. Faintly, you hear it play. You watch Chenle’s face closely, waiting for the disgust to show like you expect.

Instead, as the recording finishes, his jaw clenches, fire raging in his brown eyes. He tosses your phone to the side and tugs you closer to his chest. You sniffle, and his grip tightens on you. He’s rigid, unmoving except for his hand that runs through your hair.

“Chenle, I haven’t said anything about you to anyone.” You look up at him. “I don’t know where he heard any of that from, ‘cause I’d never spread rumors.”

“I didn’t think you did,” he says, tone soft. “I don’t think any part of that is your fault.”

“You’re not mad?”

“At you?” he asks incredulously. “Of course, I’m not mad at you. His actions can’t be blamed on you.”

For the first time since you received that call, your heart calms. You stare at him, lips parted in shock, and wait for the other shoe to drop. Wiping the rest of your tears, you clear your throat. Fear creeps up your spine, and the only thing on your mind is not scaring him off. Not doing anything to rock the boat so you can keep him, because you’ve already unknowingly fallen for him.

You sniffle, readjusting yourself on his lap so you’re straddling him again. He looks at you in confusion, but his hands find purchase on your hips. You tangle your fingers in his hair, swallowing the reproach you feel toward this situation, and kiss him like the past half an hour doesn’t exist. He returns the gesture, but it’s not like it was earlier. The passion has all but drained, and his touches are tentative.

He pulls away, eyes scanning over your face. “What are you doing?”

“What we were supposed to do in the first place,” you mention, grinding down on him.

He opens his mouth to speak, but a quiet curse comes out instead. Your hands shake as you reach down to the hem of your shirt and tug it over your head. Like Woojin said, as long as you’re giving Chenle what he wants, he won’t leave you.

“Stop,” Chenle breathes out, making you freeze above him.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this right now.” He drops his head into his palms. “Is this about the voicemail? You think you have to do this for me?”

Your silence is the only answer he needs.

“God, what the hell?” He removes you from his lap and stands up, tugging his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“Don’t go. Please.” Your voice is so small, you barely recognize it. “I’ll do better. Whatever you—”

“No.” He strides over to you and helps you to your feet, hands cupping your face as he kisses your forehead. “No, baby, I’m not going anywhere, promise. I just need a second, okay?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Let’s get your shirt back on.” He leans down to grab the black fabric off the floor and helps you pull it back on.

“Chenle,” you whisper.

“Yeah?” His eyebrows pinch together as he looks at you.

“Did you…want to?” You cringe at how small you sound. “Earlier, at least. You wanted me?”

“I did. I do. But I want you to want it, too,” he explains. “You shouldn’t ever feel like you have to do something you don’t want to, especially not things like that. No real man would ever ask you for that.”

“Thank you,” you say, taking a deep breath. “Can I stay with you tonight? Please?”

“I’d prefer it that way, actually.” He chuckles. “I’m gonna be right back, okay? Gonna tell Mark to end the party now, and I’ll be right back. You’ll be okay by yourself?”

You nod, and surprisingly, you actually mean it.

“If you don’t want to sleep in your jeans, you can get a pair of sweats from my dresser.” He kisses your cheek before heading downstairs.

While he’s gone, you change out of your jeans, a dull ache in your head from the sobbing. After you have his sweats on, you climb into bed and slide beneath his comforter. You’re surrounded by his scent like this. You want to melt into the sheets and never leave, surrounded by everything he has to offer all the time.

When he comes back, he locks his door behind him and lays down next to you. He doesn’t make any moves to pull you close, so you take the initiative and bury your head in his chest, wrapping an arm around his middle.

“Get some rest,” he whispers. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that piece of shit.”

“I’ll be okay,” you tell him, sighing. “I have you now.”

His grip is firm on you when you wake up, the steady rising and falling of his chest telling you he’s fast asleep. You sigh in content. You’d never really understood what people meant before, when they said things about not being able to get close enough. He’s pressed flush against you, but you feel as if it’s not enough.

You have no idea if your friends are here, but you carefully crawl out of bed so as to not disturb Chenle. Rubbing your eyes, you grab your phone to check your notifications. Jiyoon texted you a few times to ask if you’d gotten home okay. She’d been upstairs long before you, so it doesn’t surprise you she has no idea you stayed with Chenle.

He stirs with a short groan, but doesn’t open his eyes. You bite back a smile at the softness of his face. His cheek is smooshed into the pillow, and you’re surprised by the odd urge to kiss all over him. Instead, you opt to go into the kitchen for some water.

When you walk in the room, you’re met with Jisung, Jiyoon, and Heewon. Your friends blink at you in surprise, and Jisung laughs to himself.

“Think we found her.” He nudges Jiyoon.

“You could’ve just responded to my text and told me you got dick last night.” Jiyoon throws her hands up in exasperation.

“Nothing happened.” You shrug. “Jisung, water bottles?”

He points to the fridge, you give him a thumbs up, and then you grab one, twisting the cap off and sipping from it.

“You dirty liar, you’re in his clothes.” Heewon narrows her eyes at you. “His last name is on your back.”

“I spilled alcohol on my clothes,” you reply. “Mark was there, ask him.”

“Nothing happened?” Jiyoon asks. “Nothing at all? Not even some light petting or you know, head?”

You glare at her. “You’re such a perv.”

“Mark said he saw something last night,” Heewon blurts out. “And then I said, what? My sweet, innocent (Y/N) would never do something like that. But then I thought about it, and it obviously had to be you because Chenle wouldn’t randomly take another girl in his room.”

“Oh, my God.” Your face heats up. “Yeah, we kissed, but that’s it. Let me breathe before you start interrogating me.”

Jiyoon exclaims in excitement, shaking Jisung’s arm. “They finally fucking kissed!”

You grab a second bottle for Chenle, and then you make your way back toward the stairs.

“Wait!” Jiyoon calls. “You have to give me the details. You can’t just drop that on us and then leave!”

You turn toward her, giving her a pointed look. “Not telling you anything. I’m going back upstairs.”

“Yeah, go kiss Chenle again.” Jiyoon snickers.

“Maybe I will.” You whirl around, gasping mid-laugh when you smack right into Chenle’s chest. Embarrassment shoots through you as one of the water bottles tumbles from your hand. “Oh, I was just about to—”

“Kiss me again?” His lips form the tiniest smirk.

“Water. For you. But—”

“It’s okay, I’ll do it for you.” His palm finds the back of your neck, pushing you closer to him so he can connect your lips. You immediately melt into him, the other bottle falling as you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

The only thing that pulls you away from him in that moment is the obnoxious sound of Jiyoon and Heewon cheering behind the two of you. Your face burns, and you put your palms flat on his chest.

“Good morning.” You clear your throat.

“Would’ve been better with you in my bed instead of the kitchen,” he whispers in your ear.

“Hey, hey! No secrets.” Jiyoon pouts.

“Sorry, she’s very convinced we’re…you know.” You purse your lips. “Did you want to stay down here?”

“Came to see if you were still here,” he admits. “I’d much rather be upstairs with you right now.”

You glance over your shoulder at your friends and Jisung, glaring at them before returning your attention back to Chenle. “My peaceful attempt to get water was thwarted by my loser friends assuming we had sex.”

“You’ve got some nosy friends.” He grabs the water bottles from the floor and gestures back up the stairs. “Exactly why we lock doors in this house.”

When you get to class the next day, you’re surprised that Chenle’s nowhere to be found. He hadn’t mentioned anything to you, so you grab your phone and send him a quick text. Half of the class passes by before you start to worry. He hasn’t messaged you back, and he’s still not here.

You walk up to your professor, fidgeting with your hands. “Excuse me, sorry if this is weird, but did Chenle email or anything about not being here?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” she replies. “But I do think the basketball team had something planned for today. If you’re looking for him, he may be in the gym.”

You nod at her to thank her, and then you do exactly as she says. It’s unlike him to be MIA all day, and you’re sure he wouldn’t be upset seeing you, so why not?

You’re not expecting the room to be so full when you walk in. You don’t see him immediately, but you see Jiyoon and Jisung, so you approach them.

Jiyoon spots you first, confusion sprouting on her features. “(Y/N)? What are you doing here?”

“Um.” You blush, suddenly embarrassed that you came all this way to find Chenle. “Have you heard from Chenle? He wasn’t in class and he wasn’t responding, so…”

“You’re so cute when you worry,” Jiyoon says, nudging your shoulder. “Yeah, the captains of the sports teams do this once a year or whatever. He’s been here all day.”

“Oh, okay, well, I’m gonna head to lunch. Are you coming?” You tilt your head and adjust your bag.

“Heewon’s here, too. You didn’t know about this?”

You frown, taken aback by everyone knowing what’s going on but you. It gives you an uneasy feeling, your stomach twisting.

The door on the far end opens, and Chenle walks through, clearly frustrated at whatever he just witnessed back there. His anger melts the second he sees you, and he makes his way over.

He pulls you into a hug. “What’re you doing here?”

“I…” You pause, throwing one of your arms around him. “You weren’t in class, and our professor said you might be here. I’m a little confused.”

Chenle glances around before he gestures toward the door. “C’mon, I’ll explain.”

You let him lead you away from Jiyoon and Jisung. Once you’re far enough from the crowd, he grabs your hand.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this,” he tells you. “I just…I figured you knew, but this is a schoolwide event. Which means everyone on a sports team is here, and I didn’t want you to feel pressured to come knowing—”

“Zhong, not inviting your girlfriend to things? Isn’t that frowned upon?”

You freeze at the sound of that voice, and suddenly, everything makes sense. Chenle runs his tongue over his teeth, immediate irritation sparking on his face.

“Didn’t we just have a conversation about you being around her, Woojin?” His body tenses as he turns toward the other man. “Don’t make me get us both in trouble before such an important week.”

He stands directly in front of you, blocking your view of the man. You hold onto the back of his T-shirt and tug gently to tell him it’s not worth it.

“Well, if she’s over me, what does it matter if she sees me? Are you scared you’ll lose out to a better man?” Woojin’s tone seeps with misplaced confidence. “C’mon, she’s not that good to where you have to get so defensive.”

Chenle quickly moves forward, making you lose your grip on him. Fortunately, Jisung and Mark jump in, hands on his shoulders to push him back.

“Hey, calm down,” Mark says in his ear. “We can’t play without our captain.”

Jiyoon and Heewon shuffle past the boys over to you, but you’re focused more on Chenle than yourself at this point.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Jiyoon says, tugging at your arm. “Let Chenle handle it.”

“What? No, he’s clearly not handling it. I’m okay.” You move around Mark to stand in front of Chenle, not sparing Woojin a glance. Despite the uneasiness you feel, you care more about calming him down than giving Woojin the satisfaction of a response from you.

You put your hand on his chest, and his anger all but dissipates when he looks at you. His eyes soften, and he nods at his friends so they’ll let him go.

“I’ll be back,” Chenle says. “I’m gonna take her home.”

“You don’t have to leave for me.” You grin up at him. “I’ll make it fine by myself. I shouldn’t have come.”

“Trust me, I need a walk.” He brushes his pants off and puts his arm around you, guiding you in the opposite direction. The glare he throws at Woojin would be enough to send chills down your spine if it was directed at you.

Once you’re out in the fresh air, you finally feel like you can breathe. Chenle’s still tense as he walks you through the courtyard.

“Are you okay?” you ask him. “I’m sorry, I should’ve just waited to hear from you, but I was worried.”

“Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for, you’re not the one who’s an asshole.” He pulls you tighter and kisses the side of your head. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” You nod, looking down at your feet as you walk.

He pauses, fingers tapping against your skin. “I’m really not mad at you. I wanted you there, but I didn’t want you to be in a situation like that. So, if anything, I should’ve told you about what I was doing today. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

You stop, frowning at him. He tilts his head at you and raises his eyebrows in confusion.

“You did that for me?”

He gives you a small smile. “It definitely wasn’t for me. If I was being selfish, I would’ve brought you.”

Instead of responding, you tangle your fingers in his hair and kiss him. He finally relaxes and rests his hand on the small of your back.

He drops his head on your shoulder, sighing. “Don’t wanna go back. Do you care if I just stay with you for the day?”

“Well, you missed our assignment directions, so I think you probably should.” You intertwine your fingers with his and resume your journey.

You and Chenle end up in your room, and he sits next to you on your bed while you shuffle through your papers from today. He shifts, spreading his legs to pull you between them, his arms squeezing around your middle.

“He makes me want to commit murder. I can only imagine how you feel.” He breathes you in.

You chuckle, leaning back on his chest. “Honestly? I just wanted you. I didn’t care about him or whatever he was saying. Plus, he has no idea what he’s talking about. He sucks.”

“Oh, that’s working,” he murmurs. “Tell me all about how he sucks, please.”

“He never let me go to parties. Couldn’t have a simple conversation with any man that wasn’t him. Always hung out with his friends instead of me. I had to ask permission if I wanted to do anything. Even if it was with Jiyoon or Heewon.” Your face heats up, and you’re glad he can’t see you. “He talks about being this great man but he never actually…took care of me.”

Chenle tenses all over again. “What?”

“Uh.” You clear your throat and shake your head. “Nothing.”

“No, no, sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” he says. “I’m just…I guess I shouldn’t really be surprised, huh? Any man that talks like that probably doesn’t even know how to use his parts.”

“Yeah, he kinda sucks.”

“I’m stuck between wanting to kick his ass or showing you what it feels like.” He kisses where your neck meets your shoulder. “Is he the only guy you’ve been with?”

Your thighs clench together at the sudden heat you feel, and you gulp, nodding. “I mean, I’ve…done things to myself. But yeah. He’s the only one.”

“I…” His eyelashes flutter against your skin. “God, I could kill him.”

You turn your head until you meet his gaze, heart pounding in your chest as you work up the courage to say what you want. His eyes dart down to your mouth before he wets his lips.

You trace your finger over his cheekbone, shifting back against him. “Why don’t you stop thinking about him and show me?”

He kisses you hard, hands clenching at the fabric of your shirt. You try to move so you can straddle his lap, but he tightens his grip instead.

“Relax, baby,” he murmurs. “You don’t have to do anything. Just lay back and let me take care of you, yeah?”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Do you want me to touch you?” Chenle’s hand slides down to the button of your jeans, and your breath catches in your throat.

“If you want—”

“Do you want me to touch you?” he repeats. “I’m not doing it if you don’t want it.”

“Yes.” You look into his eyes. “Please.”

“There you go.” He gives you a small smile as he pops the button and unzips the zipper. “Lift up for me for a second? Wanna get these off of you.”

You do as he asks, and he pushes the fabric down to your knees. With anyone else, you’d feel embarrassed to be seen this way, but Chenle’s lips against your neck and fingertips exploring your bare thighs has you forgetting all about it.

You lean back on him, already panting at the thought of him so close to where you want him. He traces along the hem of your panties before tracing down to your core, ghosting from your entrance to your clit. You bite your lip to stop yourself from making a sound.

“You can stop me whenever if you want to, okay? Don’t think you have to do this because you already said yes.” He rubs tentative circles on you with just enough pressure to have you squirming.

“I want it,” you tell him. “I want you.”

“I know, baby. I’m letting you know it’s okay if you change your mind.” His cock is hard already, digging into you back as he presses a little harder.

This time, you can’t hold back the moan fluttering past your lips. You put your hand over your mouth, and he uses his other hand to pull at your wrist.

“Let me hear you.” His voice is deeper than you’re used to, thick with want for you. “Tells me if I’m doing a good job.”

He stops his movements to slide his hand beneath your panties. His fingers move to your entrance, and he curses under his breath and the feeling of your wetness. You cry out when he slips them inside you, not sure what to do with your hands as your eyes roll.

“Good?” he asks, kissing along your neck. His body radiates heat. It pours into you, your chest heaving while you reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair and kiss him hard.

“More,” you whimper.

His tongue enters your mouth, delicately wrestling with yours. He pumps his hand faster, his palm finding your clit with every thrust. You’re embarrassed by the way your legs shake, but you don’t break the kiss. Your hips buck up, a knot forming in your stomach that you’ve only ever felt by yourself. It’s more intense when it’s Chenle, the butterflies swarming around the closer you get.

He curls his fingers, finding your spot. You squirm and moan as your high takes you, your grip on his hair tightens while you grind down. While you float on the cloud he created for you, he moves slowly to bring you back down to earth, and he kisses all over your face. He gently removes his fingers and wipes them on his shirt.

“God, I wanna fucking eat you out so bad,” he pants. “Fuck.”

You push your jeans off the rest of the way and turn around to straddle his lap. His hands find your hips, holding you away from the noticeable bulge in his shorts.

You frown. “What about you?”

“Baby, I’m good. I’m just gonna go take care of it in the bathroom.”

“You don’t want me to—” Your chest deflates.

“That’s not it.” He chuckles breathlessly. “I promise you, the only thing I want more than being inside you right now is making sure you know that me doing things for you doesn’t mean you have to for me, too.”

You’re silent for a moment, blinking at him as he traces shapes on your hips.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I—I think I’m in love with you,” you say it so quietly, you barely hear the words yourself.

His eyes widen, and within seconds, he’s pulling you in for another kiss. He cradles the back of your head as he flips you over. Resting between your legs, his lips work on yours like he’s never kissed you before.

When he pulls away, your face is still on fire from your confession.

“I’m so sorry,” you tell him. “I don’t know why I’d say something like that, and you don’t have to—”

“I love you, too,” he cuts you off, smiling. “Give me, like, five minutes, Sunshine. I’ll be right back.”

Before you protest, he’s jumping away from you and heading into the bathroom. You splay out on your bed, giggling to yourself as you replay what happened in your head. The thought of him taking care of himself in there has your imagination wandering dangerously. You start to wonder what would happen if you offered to help him.

You finally decide to get up and grab a pair of sweatpants from your dresser. As soon as you have them secured on you, Chenle comes out of the bathroom. He wraps his arms around you, pulling your back to his chest.

“Sorry you had to do that,” you murmur, taking a deep breath.

“It’s not the first time,” he admits, chuckling.

Your jaw drops and you turn to look at him. “Seriously?”

“The world will fall to its knees when you finally accept how fucking perfect you are.” He kisses the tip of your nose. “Come lay down with me. We’ll worry about homework later, yeah?”

You curl into his chest when you join him on your bed, legs tangling with his. He runs his fingers through your hair, pressing his lips to the top of your head. A giddy feeling runs rampant in your chest, and all you want is to stay here forever with him.

“Thank you,” you whisper to him, squeezing his waist.

“You don’t have to do that.” His reply makes his chest rumble. “I promise I’ll always treat you the way you deserve.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you hum, closing your eyes.

His heart thrums in his chest, the sound filling your ears and calming you despite how fast it is. You make him as nervous as he makes you, and that thought alone puts a smile on your face.

He gives you a sense of calm you haven’t felt in a long time—you’re safe.

For a week, you don’t see Chenle except in class. It disappoints you, but as his championships approach, he’s been practicing nonstop. He offered to come over after his practices, but he’d be stumbling in past midnight, so you declined.

You’re getting ready for bed when you hear a knock on your door. Hesitating, you’re not sure who would be at your place, let alone knocking. You check your phone to make sure you didn’t miss any texts, and then you look out the peephole.

You recoil at the sight of Woojin, stumbling back until you bump into your table. What the hell was he doing at your house.

“(Y/N), open the door.” He has to be shouting. His voice is much too clear. “I just wanna talk to you. I know Chenle’s not here, babe, let me in.”

Your first instinct is to grab your phone out of your pocket, but you’re not sure what you plan on doing.

“Let me in or I’ll find a way in without your help,” Woojin warns.

You turn away and bolt back to your room, closing it and locking it before your first instinct is to dial Chenle’s number.

“I was just about to call you,” he answers. “We got out early so I was gonna see if—”

“Woojin’s outside.” Your voice warbles as you try to stand steady, tugging your fingers through your hair. “He said he’s gonna find a way in, and I don’t remember if all the windows are locked or—”

“Hey, hey, listen to me, okay? I’m on my way. Go to your room and lock the door. I’ll be before you know it. He’s not going to get to you.” His tone switches from lighthearted to dead serious, but somehow still comforting despite the situation.

“Chenle—”

“I know, baby. Make sure your door is locked.”

Woojin pounds on the front door more, and you drop your phone.

“If you think he’ll make it before I get to you, you’re wrong. This could’ve been fucking easy, (Y/N)!” A cold edge takes over Woojin, and tears well in your eyes.

This man was forcing his way into your house, and fear paralyzes you from head to toe. You can’t move, no matter how much you try. At least the noise alerts you to where he is, but when the silence sets in, you feel bile in your throat.

You sit on the floor, cradling your knees to your chest as you rock back and forth as your only option for response. Nothing changes, and suddenly, you hear a familiar voice through your bedroom door.

“(Y/N)? It’s Mark, are you okay? Chenle’s outside.”

It’s not enough. You can’t speak or move to unlock the door, and you don’t want Mark.

“He’s taking care of it,” Mark continues.

After more silence, he seems to get that you’re not going to respond to anyone but Chenle.

A few more minutes pass, and a light knock sounds.

“(Y/N), open the door,” Chenle says softly. “I’m here, Sunshine. Come see me.”

You pick yourself up off the floor and make your way over to the door, unlocking it but not having enough energy to open it. As soon as he hears it, he’s in your room and wrapping you up in his arms.

“Are you okay?” He kisses the top of your head, his heart pounding in his chest. Pulling back, he grabs your face, wiping away the tears you don’t recall shedding.

“He tried to—” You choke on your words, opting to bury yourself in his grasp instead.

And then you see his hands, some of his knuckles split and bleeding. You gasp and grab his wrists, gaping at his injuries.

“Chenle, what did you do?”

“Just taught him a lesson is all,” he tells you, shaking his head. “I want you to come stay with us for a little while, okay?”

“Huh?”

“I want you to pack a bag and come stay with me, Sungs, and Mark for a while.”

“I can’t do that.” You put your hands on his shoulders. “You said you handled it, right?”

“Please?” He cups both your cheeks. “It’ll make me feel better. I know he won’t try anything there.”

Reluctantly, you agree, and he helps you gather your things. He insists on carrying it for you, and he leads you through your house. When you make it outside, you see a handful of people you don’t know and Mark and Jisung. You turn to look at Chenle.

“Is…is this the whole basketball team?” you ask.

“We were all leaving when you called. They offered to help.” He shrugs.

You’re exhausted by the time you make it to Chenle’s. Jiyoon and Heewon are already there, and when they see you, the looks on their faces tell you everything you need to know. Chenle guides you upstairs without a word.

“Chenle,” you mutter after he closes the door.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it, okay?” You fight your tears and grab his hands. “Let me help you clean up, and then I just want to go to bed.”

“Anything you need.” He kisses your forehead.

“Do you have a first-aid kit?” You sniffle and wipe at your eyes.

He leads you into his bathroom and grabs a plastic case from under the sink and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. Sliding onto his counter, you spread your legs to allow him room close to you. You don’t say another word, you just get to work. He flinches when you wipe his wounds, and you sigh at the amount of damage done. All of it for you? It didn’t make sense.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you, staring down at your movements. “It just makes me…so mad that he thinks he can get away with trying to hurt you. So, I’m sorry if I hurt you by doing that, but I’m not sorry for protecting you.”

“You brought the whole team.” You chuckle and kiss his cheek.

“You’re important to me, and by definition, that makes you important to them, too.” He shrugs and pulls his hands away from you to grip the edge of the counter. “You’re safe with them.”

“I wasn’t done,” you scold him, but you enjoy his warmth anyway.

Chenle shakes his head. “Just let me look at you for a sec.”

You’re sure your face is puffy, eyes bloodshot from tears you barely remember, but he stares at you so fondly you forget all about it. He gives you the faintest smile.

“Come to bed with me?” His voice is so soft, like he’s afraid of any louder octave breaking you into pieces.

You cup his cheeks, stroking his skin with your thumbs. “What if it gets infected?”

“It won’t,” Chenle reassures you. “I’m exhausted. And I have class in the morning.”

You nod, and he takes a step back to allow you to get down. Following him into his bedroom, you feel how heavily sleep tugs on you, too. You sit on the edge of his bed as he moves his comforter so he can get under it. Watching him over your shoulder, you appreciate how soft he looks. All you want is to be close to him at all times. Whenever he’s away from you, the air is so much colder.

Chenle wraps his arm around you and pulls you to his chest so you can curl into him. “I love you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“I love you, too. And you got to me in time, that’s all that matters.” Your mouth brushes his gently at first, and then you allow him to part your lips with his tongue. 

Despite that and the way he holds you so tightly, there’s no real heat behind this. You wrap your leg around his waist, and his hand moves down to your ass. Sighing, you shuffle again, getting lost in his kiss and the feeling of his hands all over you.

He squeezes you, making a short moan escape your lips. Resting his forehead against yours, he closes his eyes.

“We should stop.”

“You’re the one touching me,” you point out, tracing your thumb along his bottom lip. “We can stop if you want to, but I want it. So, don’t stop on my behalf.”

He rolls his hips toward you, pressing his hardening cock against your clothed entrance. “Does it feel like I want to stop?”

“I want you so bad.” You sigh as you grind on him. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since—” Your face heats up at your confession, but he smiles.

“I let you cum one time, and now this,” he teases you, biting back a wider grin.

You smack his shoulder. “It felt good.”

“It’s supposed to,” he retorts. “And if you’re ever with me and you don’t finish, you’d better tell me. Because I’ll make it happen.”

“I haven’t finished yet.” You continue grinding on him, his hardness sliding perfectly against you.

He massages your ass, the pressure of it slotting him firmly between your legs. You kiss him hard and let out a shuddering breath at the stimulation of your clit through your pants and underwear. His teeth sink into your bottom lip, and he tugs until you let out a short whine.

“God, I don’t wanna have you for the first time while Mark and Jisung can hear,” he groans, burying his head in your neck. “Need to hear how I’m making you feel.”

“So let me just take care of you.” You move your hand down his body until you squeeze his bulge.

“You don’t have to,” he says, voice strained.

“If I want to?” you ask.

He inhales sharply, but doesn’t exhale. “Whatever you want, Sunshine.”

“Close your eyes and relax.” You kiss him gently before moving beneath the blanket.

He shifts onto his back, and you pull his pants down enough to palm him over his boxers. A short gasp leaves his lips. That’s enough for you to decide to slide your hand inside and grip his length. He throbs as your thumb rubs over the tip.

You're more nervous than you’d care to admit, but when you put the head in your mouth and suck, his low curse is all you need. You sink down further, attempting to relax your throat to take him deeper. He struggles to keep quiet, his moans sending bursts of wetness to your core.

You grab his hand, finding it fisted into the sheets, and bring it to your hair, hoping he’ll get the message. He immediately starts guiding your head up and down on his cock, and the slight sting from his movements has you moaning around him.

“Gonna cum,” he warns you. “Fuck, baby, your mouth is so good.”

You dig your nails into his thigh, sinking all the way down until your eyes water from gagging on him. With one last groan, he spills down your throat. You swallow what you can, climbing out from under the blanket while he readjusts himself in his pants.

“You’re fucking killing me,” he groans, reaching up to wipe the corner of your mouth. Before he moves away from you, you take his thumb in your mouth and suck.

“Feel better?” You quirk an eyebrow at him.

He shifts, laying you on your back so he can settle between your legs. You’re a little surprised when he kisses you hard, tongue and all, considering you swallowed his load, but he doesn’t seem to care about that.

“Your turn,” he mutters, kissing and nipping along your neck.

“You shouldn’t.” You run your fingers through his hair. “Your hands are—”

“Oh, baby.” He chuckles. “I don’t need my hands for what I’m about to do to you.”

“What happened to not having to do things just because the other person did?” You chuckle as he plays with the hem of your pants.

“You fucking earned it.” He nips your collarbone. “Plus I’ve wanted to taste you for so long. So, really, this is for me, too.”

“That feels backwards.”

He lifts your shirt up so his lips can graze your skin on the way down, tongue dancing along. Your breathing becomes uneven from the anticipation. With him between your legs, you can’t move to create the friction you crave.

“Is this okay?” he asks you.

You nod, helping him remove your panties. His gaze darkens as he sees your core, surely slick with your arousal. The pause he takes is minimal, and within seconds, he’s licking a broad stripe up your core. Your hand flies to his hair, whining as your back arches. He sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking it fast. His arms wrap around your thighs to stop them from clenching around his head, and his nails digging into your skin amplifies your pleasure.

You squirm beneath him, moaning as he dips into your entrance. His nose nudges your sensitive bud, and you wonder how you’ve gone this long without feeling this kind of pleasure. Lewd sounds emanate from where he’s attached to you as he works your entrance like he’s done it a hundred times.

You look at him, at the sight between your legs, and feel a whole new burst of heat between your legs. It feels like a rubber band is being pulled tight in your stomach, and you know damn well how soon it’ll snap.

The second his gaze flicks up to yours while his mouth is attached to your core, your orgasm hits you hard. Your back arches as your hips buck, and you tug hard on his hair until he’s moaning against you.

He doesn’t let up, helping you ride out your high before he starts to slow his pace. When you’ve come down from it, he separates from you, sitting up on his knees to get a good look. His lips glisten with your arousal, and you wet your lips at the thought of the evident bulge in his pants.

“Not tonight, baby.” He wipes his face with the back of his hand. “Not with them in the house, and not after everything.”

He grabs you a clean pair of panties, sliding them up your legs before he kisses you deeply. You moan at the taste of yourself.

Once you nod, he practically collapses on top of you, his head resting on your chest. You like feeling the weight of him and his warmth, so you wrap your arms around him and hold him while you will your heart to calm down.

In the morning, Chenle kisses all over your face to wake you. You groan, pushing at him despite only wanting him closer.

“I have to get to class,” he tells you. “And I have practice later, but I’m gonna leave a little early.” His lips trail to a sensitive spot below your ear.

“Leave practice early?” You fake disappointment. “Why would the captain leave early?”

“Because the captain is tired of his roommates being home when all he wants is alone time with his girlfriend. So, he’s gonna take some time to do the things he’s been dreaming of the past few weeks.” He drops his weight on top of you, resting his head on your chest. “If that’s okay with her, of course.”

“Oh? What things?”

He smirks up at you. “I’m gonna take you on a date, and then, if you’re up for it, I really, really wanna be inside you all fucking night.”

Your face heats up at the bluntness of his confession, but you nod.

“Just for bonus points, I’ll tell Mark and Jisung not to come home tonight, yeah?” He lifts himself up on his palms until he’s hovering over you.

“Why don’t you stay here, and we can be without them all day?”

“I have a test.” He sighs, placing one last kiss on your collarbone. “If that were an option, I’d’ve already picked it.”

Chenle pats your hip before rolling out of bed. He’s already changed into jeans and a T-shirt, but you admire him anyway. You turn to your side and curl into the blanket, planning on staying in that very spot until he comes back.

“I’ll see you later.” He grabs his backpack and heads for the door, glancing once more over his shoulder before he disappears. Even though he closes the door behind him, it doesn’t take long for it to open again, Jiyoon poking her head through.

“Hey.” She gives you a nervous smile. “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been worse,” you reply, sitting up. Pursing your lips, you remember your pants are on the other side of the room. Jiyoon notices at the same time you do.

“Y’know, I thought I heard something last night,” Jiyoon jokes, sitting at the foot of the bed. “But then I was like, no way. (Y/N) is celibate.”

“Oh, come on. Celibate?” You glare at her.

She holds her hands up in mock surrender. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me the second it happened.”

“It hasn’t. That’s why you haven’t heard about it.” You shrug.

“That explains why it’s only your pants.” She frowns. “Why’s it taking so long?”

“It’s only been a couple months, Ji.”

“Yeah. That’s like six years in guy time.”

“We’ve done…stuff. Just not that.”

“Oh, my God, wait! I have to get Heewon before you spill.” Jiyoon squeals in excitement and runs out of the room.

You fall back against the pillow and sigh. As much as you want to tell them, you also want to keep it to yourself. It feels…private. Magical. Something only shared between you and Chenle.

They’ll ask you questions about him—and you’ll only ever be able to answer in one way. He’s perfect, and every second you spend with him makes you want more.

You end up in the living room with them after changing your clothes for the day. Jiyoon ordered pizza, and shortly after Chenle left, Mark and Jisung head out for practice.

But Chenle comes back a lot earlier than you expected. You, Jiyoon, and Heewon share an awkward glance. It must be right after his class, considering it’s only been an hour and a half.

“I thought he said he was still going to practice?” Jiyoon whispers.

You shrug. “Yeah, he did.”

He exchanges a look with you, and you realize immediately that he’s not happy. Shaking his head, he turns and immediately heads upstairs.

“Did he look upset to you guys?” you whisper.

“I think he wants you to go with him,” Jiyoon replies, pushing your arm.

“I’ll be right back.” You wipe your hands off on your napkin before following him to his bedroom. He’s on his way back out when you make it up there.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Checking on you,” you tell him. “You’re back early and you don’t seem happy, so I wanted to make sure you’re good. Why aren’t you going to practice?”

“Why would I practice if I can’t play in the game?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“What do you mean you can’t play?” you shoot back, eyes widening. “Is this because of me?”

“No, it’s not your fault.” He wets his lips. “I don’t really wanna talk about it right now. Let’s just go downstairs, yeah? If I don’t get to hold you, I might go crazy after everything today.”

You nod and intertwine your fingers with his. “Yeah, of course.”

When the two of you take your seats, you motion at Jiyoon to tell her not to ask him any questions. You sit next to him with your legs over his lap, and his thumb rubs your thigh through your jeans.

You rest your head on his shoulder, listening to whatever story Heewon is telling. When you look over at him, he’s relaxed back on the cushion, eyes closed. You know something’s bothering him, but you don’t want to push or make him feel uncomfortable by prying. Instead, you shuffle closer to him.

He pulls you onto his lap, squeezing his arms around you and letting out a long sigh. It worries you more than you’ll admit, and when you glance over at your friends, they’re talking to each other in hushed voices.

“We’ve got a class,” Jiyoon says, standing up with Heewon. “We’re gonna head out. Talk to you later?”

“Yeah, of course.” You smile at her, and then quickly mouth ‘sorry’ before she waves you off like it’s no big deal.

Once they’re out of the door, you look back at Chenle, shifting so you’re straddling his lap to allow you a good view of him.

He runs his fingers through his hair, gaze traveling over you. “Would you hate me if we took a rain check on the date day?”

“I could never hate you.” You frown at him. “Whatever you need. Just tell me and I’ll make it happen.”

“Come take a nap with me?” he whispers, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “All I want is to hold you and forget today exists.”

You give him a soft smile. “Of course.”

You’re not sure what it is exactly that has him so upset, but he said he didn’t want to talk about it. He guides you upstairs, fingers intertwined, and closes his bedroom door behind you once you’re both in.

Rummaging through his drawers, he grabs a shirt and hands it to you. You take it without question before going to your bag to get a pair of shorts. Without a second thought, you take your own shirt off and drop it on his floor, glancing over your shoulder at him to see him changing into a pair of sweatpants. You secure his shirt on before unbuttoning your jeans, pushing them down your legs until you can kick them off.

His arms snake around your waist, pressing his chest to your back. He kisses your cheek. “This was supposed to be a good night. I’m sorry, Sunshine, I’ll figure it out soon, okay?”

“Hey,” you murmur, turning to him. “You don’t have to apologize to me. We have all the time in the world for dates.”

“Thank you. I’m fucking exhausted.” Chenle moves toward his bed, and you follow without hesitation. When you’re both settled beneath the comforter, you curl into him like you can’t get close enough.

You’re not sure who falls asleep first, but you wake up before him. The dim lamp in the corner is now the only lighting, the sun no longer illuminating the walls in orange. A door opening and closing downstairs followed by Mark and Jisung laughing together is what stirs you.

Reluctantly pulling yourself away from Chenle, you grab your shorts from the edge of the bed and slide them on before heading toward Chenle’s friends. You rub your eyes to help you adjust to the brightness of the kitchen, and Jisung and Mark stop their conversation as they notice you.

“Hey,” Jisung says, fingers tapping on the counter.

“Don’t let me interrupt.” You chuckle, your voice still heavy with sleep. “I just wanted to ask you guys something if that’s okay.”

Mark nods. “Yeah, of course.”

“Why wasn’t he at practice today? He said something about not being able to play?”

The two boys share a look, and for some reason, that makes you feel as if you already know the answer.

“It’s because of me, isn’t it?”

“Not you,” Jisung replies. “But…”

“But what?” You cross your arms over your chest. “Come on, if there’s something I can do, I want to help.”

“Woojin reported Chenle for kicking his ass. And Coach asked him why he’d do something like that, but he wouldn’t say anything. He didn’t want to air your business or whatever, and he’s pretty much banned the rest of us from defending him. Honestly, he didn’t even want us to tell you. But we’re gonna lose without him, and this is the last championship before graduation.” Jisung pauses, pressing his lips together. “Not that we blame you, because what happened wasn’t your fault at all, but it’s just…”

“No, I get it,” you tell him. “Don’t tell him I know. I’ll fix it.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant by that, either.”

“I’m not letting myself be an inconvenience to him, Jisung.” You chew on the inside of your cheek, contemplating your next move. “Where is the coach at after mine and Chenle’s lab?”

Jisung and Mark explain to you where to find him, and then you make a mental note of it before you thank them and go back upstairs to Chenle. He’s fast asleep when you make it back, and you already know after all of the things he’s done for you, telling the truth is the least you can do for him.

Like nothing happened, you climb back into bed and resume your place against his chest.

After your lab, you make an excuse as to why you won’t be at lunch that day. You kiss Chenle’s cheek quickly, and then you’re off in the opposite direction to find his coach. Luckily for you, Jisung’s directions were foolproof, and you made your way to the office easily.

You told the truth—everything about your past with Woojin, how he’d been harassing both you and Chenle, and how he was attempting to break into your house when Chenle came to help you. It was hard to get through the story, but you knew he deserved to play in the championships. There wasn’t anything that could convince you otherwise.

You told the coach to verify the story with any of the rest of the team, and they’d corroborate it. Once you left, a weight felt like it’d been lifted from your shoulders, but you could only hope it was enough to get him his spot back.

Soon enough, you're back in Chenle’s room, sitting at his desk doing your part of the assignment from the lab. Practice starts an hour after lunch, which means you weren’t expecting him for a while yet, but when the front door opens downstairs, you’re sure it’s him.

“(Y/N)?” Chenle calls up to you.

“Homework,” you respond, nervous for his reaction.

You stand up as you hear him approaching. He opens the door, and within seconds, he’s right in front of you, tangling his fingers in your hair and smashing his lips to yours. Your surprised gasp gives him the opportunity to slide his tongue in your mouth, his other hand finding the small of your back to keep you pressed firmly to him.

He rests his forehead on yours, panting. “As much as I should kill Mark and Jisung for opening their big fucking mouths, I can’t believe you did that.”

“Are you mad at me?” you ask. “I didn’t want you to get in trouble and lose out on your games because of me, and when I—”

“No, baby, I’m not mad at you. I’m just so fucking in love with you.”

“I love you so much,” you tell him. “Are you playing next week?”

He nods, grinning. “Yeah, but I told Coach I’d come back next practice. And I also told Mark and Jisung not to come home tonight.”

You don’t respond, instead kissing him once again. He moves softer this time, his hands moving down to grip your ass. Mind whirling, you sigh into his mouth.

“I like this better than the idea of finishing homework.” You chuckle, gripping his shoulders.

“I want you so bad,” he continues, kissing up your neck. “I can’t believe you did that for me.”

Your body heats at his words, images of the ways he’s made you feel before flash across your mind. “I’d do anything for you.”

His lips are on yours again, walking you backward until the back of your knees hit the edge of his bed. You tug on his hair, and the groan he lets out sends shivers down your spine. This is what you’ve been waiting for—and when he pulls away to ask you if it’s okay, you take your shirt off in response. Both of you pause for a moment, him to look you over and you to gain the courage to keep your confidence up.

Turning the two of you around, you gently push him until he sits on the mattress, and then you climb onto his lap. He immediately grips your hips, fingers digging in hard.

His touch ghosts along your skin, making a shuddering breath escape you as every brief second of contact has you on fire.

“I love you,” he says. “Absolutely fucking everything about you.”

“Lucky me,” you murmur, reaching down for the hem of his shirt. He helps you take it off of him, pulling you closer. You gasp at the feeling of his hardening length against your core, and you start to grind down on him.

His eyes darken as he leans forward until his lips brush yours. “No. I’m the lucky one.”

You lift yourself up to push your shorts down, trying your best not to be too awkward with getting them off your legs in your current position. Chenle uses it to his advantage, kissing along your chest and nipping until marks form on your collarbone.

You pull at his pants, the way you need him so desperately making him chuckle as he moves to assist you. After he kicks them off, you continue moving your hips, his bulge rubbing right on your clit through your thin panties.

“Are you sure?” he asks, palms sliding down to your ass so he can squeeze it. “We can wait, Sunshine.”

“If I wait any longer, I might implode,” you tell him breathlessly. “I need you.”

He watches you closely as he reaches the clasp of your bra. You give him an encouraging nod, and he quickly removes it from you. He guides you on top of him, but he wets his lips before putting his hand on your back and lowering his mouth to your nipple. You groan, feeling the knot forming in your stomach at the stimulation on your clit. Whining, you move faster to reach your high, your grip on his shoulders tightening as you get closer.

His gaze meets yours briefly, and then he kisses you hard. Your pleasure becomes so overwhelming that you can’t focus on kissing him, instead a moan escapes you, and he swallows it. He holds you tightly as you practically spasm on top of him, euphoria spreading through every inch of your body.

“I can already feel how wet you are,” he mutters, inhaling sharply. “Let me make you mine, baby. Let me have you.”

“I’m yours. You’ve had me since day one.” You cup his cheeks and kiss him, heart racing.

You’ve never wanted someone as badly as you want him, but it’s only at this point that nerves start to sweep you up in their whirlwind. Like he can read your mind, he pauses, blinking up at you.

“Just relax,” he says. “Whatever you need, tell me.”

“You.” Sitting up again, you try to push your panties down. He takes the opportunity to lift up as well to take his boxers off.

“Do I need a condom?” Chenle asks, cursing under his breath when you wrap your fingers around his length.

You shake your head. “I’m on birth control.”

He gulps, lining himself up with your entrance. You sigh at the feeling, preparing yourself to sink down on him. As he slides inside, you throw your head back. The moment the two of you really connect, you realize you must’ve never been in love with someone before. There’s something about the way your heart beats for him that increases your pleasure. You’ve never felt this good before.

“Good fucking God,” he groans, grip tightening on you.

Once he’s fully in, you pause to look at him, finding his lips parted and his eyebrows furrowed. He kisses you gently and wraps his arm around you. You don’t waste anymore time and opt to set a steady pace, unafraid to let your sounds escape as his length drags slowly against your walls.

“That’s it.” His voice is strained, like he’s holding something back. He works his hips up gently every time you sink down. “You’re so fucking tight, Sunshine. You feel so good.”

You whimper at his words. The only thing you want is to pleasure him—so you pick up your speed, rolling your hips as you sink back down. When he squeezes your ass, your body jolts.

“How you feeling, baby?” he asks, massaging your butt as you work on top of him.

“Good.” Actually, like you’re on a cloud of pleasure, and every time you take him deep, you think how you want him to be inside you forever. “So good.”

He secures his grasp on you before flipping you over onto your back. You immediately wrap your legs around his waist and lock your ankles together. He moves faster, thrusting at a steady but mind blowing pace. Your eyes roll, and you can barely think coherently with his cock throbbing inside you. His chest presses against yours, the closeness making your body so much hotter.

Sweat forms on your skin, and you tangle your fingers in his hair to lead him down to kiss you. You moan into his mouth when his tip kisses your spot. Every vein in your body is on fire, every thrust brings you closer to Chenle. Sounds of your arousal sound with each movement, joined in harmony with both yours and Chenle’s moans.

He snakes his hand between the two of you, his finger connecting with your sensitive clit. Your pleasured cry is louder than you anticipated, but it pulls a similar sound from Chenle.

“You gonna cum for me?” he mumbles against your mouth. “C’mon, Sunshine, squeeze my cock.”

Your back arches into him, nails digging into his shoulders as your walls clamp down on him like a vice. Euphoria bursts throughout you, and you swear your vision blacks out for a second as Chenle’s thrusts pick up in pace. He fucks you through your orgasm until he lets out a string of curse words.

“Fuck, baby, where do you want it?” he asks, voice tinged with desperation. “I’m so close.”

“Inside. Cum in me.” You lift your hips to match his thrusts, dazed from your own orgasm. All you want is to feel him fill you up.

He drops his head on your shoulder, thrusting one last time before his warm cum coats your walls. Both of you lay there, unmoving. He kisses the base of your neck, panting as he tries to regain his breath.

You pull him up to kiss him, lips working gently on his. He hums against your mouth, nails scratching up and down your thigh.

“Was that worth missing practice?” You grin up at him.

“I’d miss a whole lot more than practice for this.” He smiles, shaking his head as he slowly pulls out of you. “Take a bath with me?”

“Only if you carry me there.” You push his shoulder. “My legs are a little…”

“Just the way they should be.” Chenle winks at you before he gets up to head into the bathroom to start the water. 

Once it’s filled, he scoops you up in his arms and places you in the tub, somehow the perfect temperature, and climbs in behind you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush to him.

As you relax with him, allowing him to wash your body ever-so-delicately, you realize this is how it always should’ve been. You feel free, like you’ve been unshackled from your past just by loving Chenle and being loved by him.

It’s as if you’ve made it to your destination—like the journey matters just as much as the end. You look at him over your shoulder, and he kisses you so softly, you let out a sigh of content.

The teams were tied—Chenle was visibly irritated by the way the scoreboard had yet to change with minimal time left on the countdown. This has been the closest game all season—most of the others had been clean sweeps—yet here he is, during the last one of his college career, and he’s close to losing for the first time.

You and Jiyoon sit with Jisung’s parents and Chenle’s parents, leaning forward in deep concentration. Playing with the thread bracelet on your wrist, you watch in earnest as you see the time ticking down. Chenle blocks the ball from going into the net, effectively taking it and running across the court til he gets to the middle. The other team basically bombards him, but as he lines up to take his shot, you grab Jiyoon’s arm and squeeze it. The countdown hits three seconds when he throws it, and it’s like the ball moves in slow motion.

Your jaw hangs open, and right as the clock hits zero, the ball sinks into the net, putting Chenle’s team one point over the other. You and Jiyoon both launch up, shouting and cheering. He turns to you, as if to make sure you saw that, and when he finds you grinning at him, he moves toward you like it’s a reflex.

You leave your spot in the bleachers and meet him in the middle. He picks you up as you wrap your arms around him, and you laugh as you hold on tightly. His smile is wide as he sets you back on your feet, kissing you hard. You giggle against his mouth, and an overwhelming sense of pride settles in your chest.

“You did so well,” you praise him and press your lips to his cheek.

“It’s all ‘cause I had my good luck charm.” He squeezes you tightly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you reply.

The words had never left your mouth so easily, nor have you ever meant them as much as you do now. You’ve only just hatched into the person you’re supposed to be, and with Chenle by your side, you know it’s only going to get better from here.

But you love here, too, because in the distance, finally you see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Finally, you see your sea.

[weemietime]

I really can't overstate how massively tired I am of western leftist children chanting globalize the Intifada. Truly, it's mind-blowing that anyone takes these Tik Toks seriously. It's always someone who couldn't point out Gaza on a map, doesn't know from what river to what sea, doesn't speak a Middle Eastern language, doesn't practice any Middle Eastern religion.

Hasn't ever been involved in armed conflict, hasn't ever experienced combat first-hand yet somehow they have magically become the authority on what constitutes genocide in an urban warfare scenario where the enemy is asymmetrically embedded into the civilian population.

Positively stunning that these folks with their BLM posters in the background start reading Osama Bin Laden's Letter to America which is some of the most profoundly, virulent antisemitic gibberish, with complete and utter sincerity. Never seen a gun in real life, never been homeless or brutalized by the police. Yet they somehow bestowed upon themselves the qualifications with which to speak about this extraordinarily complex subject.

Sorry, man. I don't give a shit what some 21 year Christianized Californian white person who couldn't say a single sentence in Hebrew or Arabic thinks about fucking Israel and Palestine. Have you ever considered the possibility that you should listen more than you speak? Listen to actual Jews, actual Palestinians. These people, they don't even know any Palestinians, lmao. They couldn't name five Palestinians they personally know off-hand.

And yeah someone will probably reblog this like oh blah blah blah I'm this and that - - what I mean is that even if you can say you've had a lived experience, the vast majority of the people around you who are spewing the same takes as you, who you're reblogging from and platforming - - a majority of these dudes genuinely could not even tell you who the president of Israel is.

Am I gate-keeping a centuries old ethnic and religious conflict steeped in highly nuanced, intricate layers spanning generations? Yeah. Maybe that dude on the college campus with the watermelon hat spouting off how much he loves the literally genocidal Houthis ("based Houthis," even) screaming "Zionazis go back to Europe," isn't the fucking four-star General Douchebag we need right now.

[storywriter007]

Thank you for answering my other two requests, I loved them!! I have two more if you are interested!

1) Can you do a Percy Jackson x reader (I'm imagining this occurring on the Argo II) that's basically an enemies to friends to lovers? Where maybe they both just don't really like each other based on the encounters they've had, but then end up going on a small quest off the ship just the two of them and some sort of trauma happens that makes them friends, and then you can decide how they get to lovers from there! Basically just want some angst!

2) This one has a little bit of a trigger warning with suicidal thoughts, so I understand if you don't want to write this one. Percy Jackson x reader (this one I'm also envisioning on the Argo II, but this one could also be just at camp when Percy is like 17) where they are good friends and the reader is struggling mentally but tries to smile for everyone else, but she is sitting alone in the woods at some point holding her knife to her wrist just kind of thinking about it but not sure about it, but then Percy appears to check on her and scares her so the accidentally slips and cuts herself there, and from there basically Percy comfort. Idk if that made sense but basically Percy angst and comfort.

You're amazing!!! 🩷

Friends? - Percy Jackson x Fem!Reader

author's note: this is request one. thank you for your request :) i kind of had to cut it short bc this was getting too long.

warnings: cursing, mentions of suicide, betrayal, mentions of death, battle scenes, kissing

genre: angst ending in fluff

word count: 1.8k

-> heroes of olympus masterlist

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send me requests here! (these are my guidelines)

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y/n took her seat at the table alongside seven other demi-gods. she noticed percy scowl at her and she rolled her eyes back at him. they'd never gotten along. and chances were, they never would.

her intense hate for the son of the sea god had begun a few summers back during capture the flag. they were on the blue team, and she was assigned to offense with annabeth and percy. suddenly, four members from the red charged at the trio, swords in hand. y/n and percy swung and slashed at two of them until they fled. one of them yanked off annabeth's invisibility cap and decided she was their next victim. the other one came for y/n, hitting her ankle hard. percy was quick to defend annabeth and run away with her.

but he left her. y/n was left to fight two members of the opposing team, who were merciless. they were violent, they were twice her size, and to y/n's dismay, her ankle didn't provide her any support to run away. it was a terrible and cruel beating. the two kept going even when they didn't need to. she could barely see by the end of it. y/n remembered that capture the flag game as "don't trust your teammates."

ever since then, y/n had made her distaste for percy clear. everyone admired his loyalty, until they were on the receiving end of his betrayal.

"we need to find a map." annabeth started.

"it's our key to finding out which way is the safest to go." jason explained. "it's somewhere in the woods, according to what hecate told hazel."

"we're going to have to split up." annabeth continued. "it's a huge forest, and we need to cover ground efficiently."

"i've split you guys up. i don't want to hear any whining." jason said, looking at the group, but his gaze lingered longer on percy and y/n. "annabeth, piper, and i are going eastwards towards the mountains. frank, leo, and hazel are going south to the rest of the woods. percy and y/n will head north, towards the shore."

"why is it 3-3-2?" hazel asked curiously.

"because we need a power balance." annabeth said politely. "it's matched with each person's strengths."

"strengths?" percy chuckled. "i'm the strength. she's going to slow me down."

douchebag, y/n thought.

"i don't want to go with you either, but i'm not bitching about it, am i?" she snapped back.

"you don't have to bitch because going with me does you a favor."

"i'd rather drown."

"lucky you, i can make that happen."

they stared at one-another in an intense fury.

"we'll meet here again in four hours." jason instructed. "and when we do, all eight of us better be here." he said, eyeing percy and y/n.

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it was already eight. and they had to search the stupid northside until midnight. she couldn't even run away if she wanted to.

they continued walking. the sun slowly set as the night sky arose. the woods looked scary at night. tall, thick trees hovered over the two demi-gods as strange creatures and noises came by. after what felt like a long time walking, y/n could hear the sea.

"do you hear it?" she asked him.

"i can feel it." he said, walking quickly.

she trailed behind him as they reached sandy terrain. the sea was dark and terrifying. y/n and percy searched the shore for what felt like another eternity.

suddenly, it got colder and y/n heard a voice. it was a sweet, soft voice.

look at me it whispered.

"do you hear that?" she asked percy.

"yeah." he said, shakily.

look at what you've done it demanded.

suddenly, y/n was watching something in front of her. it was a battle. she looked at the gory scene in front of her. it took her a minute to realize it was the battle of manhattan. she felt a lump in her throat as images of dead campers raced through her mind. silena, charlie, ethan, and luke.

this is your fault the voice said, but it wasn't sweet anymore. it was hoarse, raspy, and cruel.

look at what you've killed. look at what you've brought it continued.

the images flashed terrible battle scenes. it replayed deaths of each and every camper.

you did this the voice yelled.

"n-no, i didn't." y/n whispered, shaken by the images.

look at what you've done

"i didn't do it!" she pleaded.

you did! you did it all!

"i had no choice." she said, tears spilling from her eyes.

terrible, tortuous images kept playing. the deaths of the campers she'd grown up with, the reactions of their mothers and fathers, and the destruction that had been caused.

you deserve to die.

"i know." she whispered. "don't you think i know?"

do it the voice encouraged. do what you should've done years ago.

y/n tried to think through it. this voice, this voice wasn't human.

do it.

it was a siren. it was trying to get her to sacrifice her life.

"no." she said, standing her ground. "i did what i had to. i can't be blamed for it."

then who can you blame?

"kronos." she said, gripping her sword.

the siren showed it's demented face and y/n quickly slashed it. she snapped out of her trance, and the images faded and so did the voices. she turned to see percy holding his sword to his neck. she saw the twisted siren circling around him. she swiftly ran up to him and took his sword from his hand, before slashing the siren. percy too snapped out of his daze, and stumbled a little. y/n caught him, and looked up to meet his sea green eyes. they were teary, and he looked so disheartened.

"you saw it too." she confirmed.

he nodded.

"thank you." he said, his voice low and sincere. "i would've done-well you know what, if you hadn't saved me."

she nodded.

"we should probably get back to the ship." he said quietly.

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when percy and y/n got back, it was half-past midnight, and everyone was already there.

"we ran into sirens." y/n briefly explained.

they all nodded as the ship entered the air, sailing to its next location.

"we found the map." hazel informed. "goodnight guys."

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y/n tossed and turned in her bed. she couldn't get those images out. those dam sirens. she needed to talk to someone. someone who would understand. she sat up and opened her door. she trailed the hallway until the came across the door that read percy jackson. she lightly knocked before pushing the door open.

"couldn't sleep either?" he asked, laying down and staring at the ceiling.

"yeah." she said. "i can't get what the sirens showed me out of my head."

"c'mere." he said, patting the area next to him.

y/n laid down next to him.

"i know it's not our fault." he said quietly. "but it feels like it is."

"i know." she said softly. "it's like i should've done something. but there was nothing to be done."

"exactly." he said. "on one hand, i know i couldn't have saved them no matter what i did. but on the other, i feel like i should've figured it out."

"mhm." she agreed. "they were good people. that's what makes it hurt more."

"they didn't deserve death. and i don't deserve the hero title." he chuckled. "i let them die."

"you had no choice." she reminded.

"did i?" he questioned.

"percy, i saw and heard the same things you did. it just wanted to get in our heads." she explained. "and they did it through guilt. guilt that isn't ours to carry. it's kronos'."

"you're right." he agreed.

y/n had spent years hating him. but maybe, just maybe, he was alright. they had both seen the same things growing up. the same wars, deaths, and betrayals. in an odd way, she felt almost identical to him.

a few moments of silence passed by before y/n realized percy had fallen asleep. and after a few more minutes, she felt herself drift off as well.

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the next morning when y/n awoke, percy was already awake.

"morning." he smiled.

"oh dear god." she said, sitting up. "what time is it?"

"it's five-thirty. and i'm sorry." he said, sitting up as well.

"for what?"

"for how i treated you all these years." he exhaled, as if this was something he'd been meaning to get off his chest. "i'm sorry for leaving you in capture the flag."

"so you did know what you were doing, huh?" she retorted.

sure, the cuts and scars from that beating had been healed a long time ago. but, the betrayal never did.

"i didn't know you." he explained. "i didn't care about you. i just wanted to get annabeth to safety. that was wrong of me. you were on my team, i should've helped."

"'sorry' and 'i should've' doesn't fix anything. we're not best friends because we got along for a day." she said bitterly. "i know for a fact you would've left me in the woods the way you did all those years ago."

"that's not fair y/n." he frowned. "i would never do that to you."

"and you get to decide what's fair now?" she chuckled. "are you forgetting you continued tormenting me instead of swallowing your pride and apologizing?"

"i-"

"that's the thing about your loyalty, jackson. everyone admires it until they're on the receiving end of your betrayal." she said coldly, getting up.

"y/n, you might not trust me today, hell, you might not trust me for the rest of our short lives. but believe me when i say, from the bottom of my heart, i'm sorry."

"how do i know you're never going to do the same thing again?" she asked.

get got up and moved closer to her. he was practically towering over her. she felt her back hit the wall.

"you have my word." he promised, looking at her eyes.

she nodded in agreement, feeling herself breathe heavily being this close to him. she could feel him leaning in, and she did too. their lips pressed against one-anothers in a passionate kiss. his hands were placed on her waist, and her arms snaked around his neck. he tasted like salt and blue frosting. she felt herself get pushed backwards towards the wall as he continued to kiss her. it grew more passionate and ferocious until they both pulled away. she rested her head underneath his.

"friends?" he asked.

"we just made out. we are not friends." she laughed.

"i thought it was too bold to say lovers."

"lovers." she agreed.

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hope you liked it :) sorry for the wait!

[dragonagitator]

The pirate-themed mobile wargame I'm playing allows you to customize your flagship's sail color, so I chose a nice cheery pink.

I also go on frequent killing sprees against any gang whose members has wronged someone from my gang. Like I'll log in for the day, and my gang members will all clamor to tell me about how so-and-so did whatever, and then I'll go sink 40+ of their ships in two hours and post all my kills to server chat to taunt them.

My fellow gang members have taken to calling me "Bloody Barbie" for my bright pink sails and my unquenchable thirst for the blood of our enemies.

[soraviie]

he begs to be taken back.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader  ━ navigation

━ about: angst, hurt/ some comfort ? a little bit of crack?? In this economy?

━  pictures taken from Pinterest

━ w/c: 9.1k, rip.

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON: When hearing his pleading voice for the thousandth time, in the span of this one day only mind you, you slammed the phone on the desk with an irritated huff. The knowledge that people were still even capable of leaving voicemails had cost you dearly. For good measure, hurling the accursed device into the corner, you tightened the shawl around your neck, managed to grab onto the umbrella and lumbered out. Anywhere, to any direction and earth's current, if only you didn't have to think about him.

Recalling Namjoon, the grip on your handle tightened, making it produce a tortured groan.

"Shut up!" you barked at it. Rain pelted harshly on the world below, making it both difficult to see and walk. Rather detrimental to the whole thing to be outside. It took approximately 0.5s and 2 steps for your thoughts to begin curling around Namjoon. Who does he think he is? Does he think he's so unforgettable? Does he think he's some sort of God graced upon the world that you should take him back even after you tried so hard to erase him?! After you put all that hard work to return him back to the sea of strangeness and unfamiliarity?!

"Baby, baby, please, I beg of you, I am begging, just hear me out. Five minutes! Please, just five minutes!"

That was his last voicemail and chiefly the rest of them as well.

It was just five minutes... What were five minutes exactly? A little bit more than your favourite song. A scene in a movie. Passing. Fleeting. Just a slip in time...

No! No, no, no! Five minutes meant meeting his eyes, five minutes meant thousands of good memories, and five minutes meant remembering laying in his arms, reading a book together in quiet content. But Namjoon was gone. All of it was gone. It was down the drain just like this rain pooling around the sewer grates. Useless to remember, useless to yearn for. Just. Gone.

Shaking off the water onto the carpet inside the coffee shop, you were greeted by the pleasant ding of the gold-coated bell over your head and warmly smiling, you greeted the barista.

"One large coffee and a slice of marzipan cake for ____________. To go, please."

The scrape of the chair disturbed the previous mellow of the corner coffee shop with such vibrancy, not a soul was left unstirred. A tall figure, standing in the middle of the floor, gaping like a deer in headlights with mouth flopping open and closed like a fish.

You prayed he didn't see you.

But it was hard to believe given that Namjoon was staring right at you.

Without a moment's hesitation, you turned on the heel and ran into the rain, not even bothering to open up the umbrella again. The rain was cold and unforgiving, making you shudder in practically no time. Yes, it was the cold that made you tremble so.

"Baby! Baby! Please, wait!"

You could hear his voice travelling fast from behind, gaining much-unwanted attention. Namjoon's unfair genetic advantage that had granted him those very same legs you once drooled over, caught up with you in no time and soon enough you were forced to look at his grief-stricken visage. Seeing him up close, without the hindrance of anger and resentment, made your breath catch in your throat. It could hardly be believed you were ever together, given how beautiful he was. Despite his hair stuck to his forehead, bags so blue you'd think he was punched and, quite honestly, the smell he emitted, Namjoon was stunning.

Gorgeous Namjoon. Gorgeous...lying, arrogant, conceited douchebag of a scum!

"Baby," he leaned down to your face. "Baby, please, just listen!"

"I'm not your fucking baby," you screamed. "I told you we are done!"

Pushing past him, you tried to haul yourself away, only to be caught by an elbow.

"Unhand me, sir!"

A glitch of a faint smile appeared on his lips, only deepening your glare. Keeping arms firmly to himself, he began:

"I can't say how sorry I am."

"Then don't!"

"I can't live without you."

"Are you dying?" you scoffed, tossing him a pointed glower. "Right at this moment are you dying?"

Shit...he might just be. Those were definitely two different shoes on his feet.

"Might as well," he cried back. "Please, I'm going crazy! I need you back," you opened your mouth but Namjoon rushed faster. "And I understand I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you. I understand all of that! But all the same, I'm begging. I'll do anything! Anything! I promise!"

"And how many things you promised before you broke them all?" you asked him trying to sound stern, uncaring but the eternal treachery of your voice betrayed you. You sounded hurt. Just as hurt as he appeared to be. "I will spend time with you, _____________. I would never blow you off like that, _____________. I will never make you feel jealous, ___________!"

You felt your bottom lip wobble whilst he stood like that in front of you - absolutely drenched, gaze lowered miserably at the ground.

"I know," he croaked. "I know I didn't treat you as well as I should have and I'm sorry. I was stupid. I thought...I took you for granted and didn't think that you could leave."

It took a whole half a minute for his words to settle and be recognized for all their meaning but once they did, you turned red from fury.

"You fucking arrogant asshole! Kim Namjoon, you're...You're!" failing to think of anything, you yelped out of frustration. Now people were definitely looking. Who did he think he was?! The man you loved?! The tall and gorgeous lover of your dreams who had dimples and spoke softly to animals and would rather go bike riding than flex the money he had with some dumb overpriced car?! Did he really think that being sorry could tempt you back to him?!

Doesn't it, a faint yet lingering voice whispered to the forefront of your mind.

"Please, if you don't want to listen, then don't," at last he quietly muttered. Chills racked your body upon hearing the quiver in his voice. He was actually crying. The strongest man you knew. Was crying. Over you, no less.

"Just please, read this," from the pocket of his jacket, he thrust a handful of papers at you. "And uhm don't toss it out and uhh just...remember I do love you."

With the long jacket flapping in the wind, he ran off, palm pressed to his mouth.

It was hard to see him like this. Especially considering you always assumed it'd be you who was the only broken one once the relationship had fizzled. Returning back home, now thoughtful and dragging your feet, you poured over the rain-distorted pages. Letters? Pages of a diary? Poems? It was hard to describe what you were reading but nonetheless, it was a strenuous read.

Namjoon had kept a chaotic but remarkably consistent journal that started with the first day you met. You never knew he had to work up the courage to speak to you for whole two weeks. You had merely assumed that the sly handsome idol had no business being shy. Reading about yourself made you blush and paradoxically understand Namjoon better than ever. He did love you. He still does if today's entry was anything to go by. This love overwhelms him

"Like an ocean in the hold of a single cup," he wrote. That night he'd been watching you sleep and had a panic attack, breaking down in the bathroom thinking of all the things that could go wrong.

"Why didn't you just wake me and talk?" you whispered at the pages, feeling the familiar sting of tears. You'd been tired from work, he wrote on the next page, he dared not to trouble you, dared not to ask too much, having in his mind done so already.

Having read that you snapped the book shut and after unlocking the phone wrote one concise message.

"Kim Namjoon, you're an idiot and I love you all too much."

YOONGI: Chapter Three. Paradise Lost. The words and the blinking cursor stared at you with open mockery. Ten whole minutes you sat here and couldn't think of a single word. How could you when you felt the weight of his gaze - lingering, smothering, flattering. Like you were the centre of his whole universe...

Violently you shook your head. Flattering. You were the centre of his whole universe. Lies. Meagre pillows of comfort, you shielded yourself with. You were not his anything, he had made it abundantly clear. Whatever this was...well, it was misguided all the same. You even managed to work up some anger. This was your place, your quiet solitude in the night, a beacon in whose light you could bask when the familiarity of your burrowed apartment was too much to bear. In this small night coffee shop, you could drown. You could forget all about him and yet here he was intruding upon the very sanctity he himself created the need for.

Reddening, you slammed your laptop shut, briefly meeting his gaze. Without shame or inhibition, he stared at you, long fingers twiddling with the cooling cup of black coffee. You knew he knew you knew and so on. Just two idiots both staring at each other without saying a word. With your head spinning from the implications, you stomped your way to the door, chin raised high. Whatever he wanted it was too late now. You hated him. Just like you said.

"I hate you, Min Yoongi!" you yelped, whipping around to tear your hand away from his, tears running down your face. Batting them harshly away, you let the poison out. It was strangely cathartic. As violent as it was there was some peace to be had in the raw honesty, finally fleeing into the aether.

Yoongi recoiled as though burnt, shock painting his features into something you'd not seen before.

"You don't mean that," he breathed weakly. "Please, don't say that."

"You're the worst thing that has ever happened to me! We're done! It's over!"

And alright maybe you didn't hate him. Maybe you still thought, weeks after you parted, did he eat anything at all today, was he tired, but in the face of your own wounded pride, it felt critical to be cruel. Repay his own, even if he hadn't meant it and maybe hadn't even seen it.

He was squirming in his red, upholstered seat; the closer you got, the more anxious he became, like a hamster realizing it was caught in a cage, he visibly flitted between various scenarios. You tried your best to not pay him any mind and continue your escape, out into the cold night. Alone, yes but with your ego preserved.

If that made anything better...

At last, just before you were past his booth, a warm yet roughened palm reached to encircle your wrist. Cautiously, as if he was frightened his own touch hurt.

"Please, don't leave..." fell broken out of his lips. Muffled behind the mask but still loud enough for you to hear. Grinding your teeth, you tried to recall every single night of disappointment. Every night that you cried yourself to sleep because he lied. He had lied when he said he'd be there for you.

"I don't want to hear it," you snapped but it sounded too uncertain; written on a prompt message that had flashed too fast for you to properly read.

"Please, just sit down. Let's talk... even if it's for the last time."

"Funny, you never wanted to talk before."

Yoongi cringed, his gaze darting to sit guilty on the dirtied table. Ah, there it was - the poison. It felt bad to be cruel; before at least it was the steady hand of rage that guided you towards being this person that you truly hated to be, but now...now, it just felt hollow.

Sitting down opposite him, you watched silently as he removed the mask. Kindly put, Yoongi looked like death warmed over.

"You look like shit," you reckoned and he gave a brittle, weary laugh, running a hand through the squished, clearly unwashed hair.

"Yeah, well, a living hell does that to a person."

"Don't exag-"

"I'm not," sternly, he shook his head, briefly closing his eyes as though carding through rows and rows of pain-filled memories. "I've barely slept, barely eaten anything since you left. I...I keep replaying those words in my head," he grasped at the roots of his hair, panting dejectedly at his lap. "I wanted to hate you. No one has ever broken my heart like this."

You scoffed, crossing your arms over chest. If you do this, it'll mean you won't shatter like fine glass.

"Then go on!" you urged. "Hate me! Loathe me! Curse my name and spit on any reminder of my existence!"

"I can't!" he cried out. "No matter how hard I try, I want you more than ever. I want to drag you away from your writing, I want to complain about the half-empty cups you leave across the house, I want to make you that stupid mac-and-cheese you love so much!"

Your breath stuttered.

"Yoongi -"

"I want you to be angry with me, I want you to nag me, I want to be annoyed," eyes shining with unshed tears, he continued to drop the words so fat you could barely make them apart anymore. "Want to wear your scrunchies around my wrist, want to make furniture for you, want to clean the shower because you hate doing it."

Then, he bowed his head, leaving you for the first time ever, utterly and properly speechless.

"Please, take me back. Let me come home to you."

"Music was your home," you argued but with his head still low, Yoongi disagreed.

"It's not anymore. It's just a house now. Just a roof over the head. I'm...I'm not the same as I was before and yes, it scared me, yes, I was a coward, yes, I ran away from you and you have the right to be angry!"

More than the guilt in them, you hated Yoongi's eyes. It was the first thing you notice about him when he was just a masked stranger asking to split the table in a busy cafe. Sitting across each other just like this, you remember being entranced by the way his feline eyes darted all over the place, subtly observing each life going in their own ways. You hated how much you had stared at him that day, so much so, the only thing written down was cat, cat, cat, cat, to appear as though you were working. You hated to remember how happy those eyes were when you finally mustered up the courage to show him your work and how they had squinted in noiseless laughter when he realized that the black cat guarding your main hero was just him reimagined as a feline.

There was so much to be hated about Min Yoongi...so why you couldn't do it?

"Let me crawl back home to you."

"What of your precious pride?" you tried to hiss but it came out like a genuine question.

"It's meaningless," he murmured. "What pride is there to sit staring at the wall, whole days and nights passing by. So, please, take me back. I'll do everything you ask just please, let me be your home again."

"My home?" you echoed, faintly.

"You'll always be mine even if you're gone."

JIN: The greeting got stuck in your throat like a bite of a dry chicken. Grazing just down the windpipe, making it impossible to speak. The sight of him standing there, over the sink of your childhood home, washing dishes of all things and shifting anxiously from one foot to another, was enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

"Hello! Oh, ___________!" your mother chastised. "Why didn't you tell me you had such a lovely fiance?"

Your gaze fixated numbly on Jin. On his stupid face, on his stupid curls on that stupid jumper you gifted him on the first birthday you'd been there to celebrate.

Jin had been many firsts and most of all the first man you failed to get rid of the second things were off. He was like a rash on the butt, definitely nothing more complimentary - an annoying thing making it impossible to live, to have a peaceful breather. He was always there, reminding you that he did exist, making you miserable.

"Fiance?" dumbly, you echoed, too taken aback to even be angry. Being with Jin was another life, one you left behind at that; to see him here was as jarring as having a tree fall on top of your head.

"Yes, he arrived here late at night, yesterday," your mother continued to chatter on, oblivious to the lingering tension. "Introduced him all proper, asked for my blessing, helped me to lug in the Christmas tree this morning. Didn't you, Seokjinnie?"

If the red ears were anything to go by, then your mother had put him through Machiavellian levels of mortification for many consecutive hours now. So why was he here?

Meeting his gaze you wanted to ask just that.

Why are you here? What was this charade all about?

"I see," you, stated flatly. "I'll put my things away."

Quickly, you brushed past him to your bedroom, hearing a vague -

"Seokjin, dry your hands! Don't run off all dripping wet."

"Sorry, ma'am."

- coming from behind. Slamming the doors, you were unsurprised to find Jin's things already waiting for you there, having invaded this corner of your life that he had no business being in. He wasn't anything to you anymore. Just a stranger returned back to the tides of faceless crowds from which he emerged in a moment of delirious, star-stricken fancy. That's all that ever was to it. That's all you ever were to him, just a fleeting fancy he got caught up in too eagerly. The familiar ball and chain that everyone complained about were not as sturdy as they made it seem, engagements could be called off, relationships torn apart and hearts broken with the same ease it took to dust off a jacket.

"________________! Come decorate the tree!"

Languidly, you put one bauble around the piercing branches, ignoring the swelter of his lingering glance. At last, when he'd been drilling in the back of our head for so long you could swear it physically gave you a fever, you hissed surreptitiously at him, pretending to smile so your mother wouldn't have to know of how her precious Seokjinnie was by far the last person on the planet you wanted to speak with.

"How dare you come here," you accused him and he withered, hearing the sheer vitriol in your voice. "How dare you tell her you're my fiance? When we're done?!"

Jin frowned at the tree, haphazardly shoving the silver-coated balls on the needles.

"Please, we can't be done," he replied. "Let's just talk it out, okay?"

"I don't want to talk it out! If me leaving Seoul was not abundantly clear."

"You still kept the ring."

"Oh my god, is that what it's all about? The ring?" you yanked at the chain around your neck. Perhaps you shouldn't have kept it at all but it was an antique family heirloom and by the time you realized it was still around your neck, having grown so used to it, the jewellery felt like a natural part of your body, and the plane had already landed. "Here, you can have it!"

"Don't you dare," he growled, squeezing your palm to be still before falling quiet as your mother entered the living room. Jin was still wearing his own ring, it glistened around his finger in the sparkling Christmas lights.

Your mother's eyes darted between the two of you, clearly confused over the fraught expressions you both wore.

"Seokjin, do you mind helping me with the bean sprouts?"

Hell-bent on playing the role of the perfect upcoming son-in-law, Jin could only nod with a tight smile, unwillingly letting his hand drop.

"Be right there," nasally, he promised and dragged his feet towards the kitchen. As your hands trembled, one of the baubles fell onto the floor. In what seemed like slow motion, you watched it fly through the air, determinately swinging towards its own destruction and then shatter, shards flinging all over the hardwood floor.

"_____________, don't," Jin cried out but you didn't listen, squatting down to pick it up. Just as expected the tremors in your hands though small were enough for the sharpened edge to ungainly scrape against the skin, slicing it open.

Suddenly, it all felt too much and with tears threatening to burst, you ran outside the door, into the sobering winter where nothing was happy enough to pour any more bitterness into your heart. Unlike the ever-present bustle, your home was quiet. It lay on the edge of an unfarmed field with nary neighbours around. It was frighteningly quiet but soothing in a fevered moment such as this. Coming to a stop by an old shed, one you used to sneak cigarettes with a couple of friends in a reckless youth, you leaned against it and panted into the bristling cold. Clumps of snow fell lazily from the sky. Without hurry, completely careless. You yearned for that kind of serenity.

Hearing the crunch of the snow, you glimpsed around the corner, watching as Jin fell face-first into the thick snow, cursing as he did so. You almost laughed at the sight, only to remember that you promised to never, ever see him again.

He found you with relative ease, there was nothing else in the snowed-in field anyhow and he peered down at you with storming judgement.

"What are you doing running out in this weather?" he scolded, throwing a jacket over your shoulders.

"You have no right to reprimand me," you grumbled but he didn't listen and instead reached to examine the small cut on your finger, fishing a band-aid from the pocket of his jeans. Quietly you watched his brows furrow in concentration, treating this scrape as vitally as one would a heart surgery. Circling the band-aid around your finger, he breathed a soft:

"There we go," and pressed your palm against his cold lips.

"Jin -"

"I want you to take me back," he stated honestly, leaving another kiss, this time higher up the arm. "Yell at me if you need to, curse me out in front of your mother if you want to but please take me back."

"Your family -"

"I explained either me and you or no one at all," he murmured, slowly inching upwards and on instinct, your eyes closed, when tepidly he kissed your neck. "I was wrong for not saying so in the first place but now it's clear. If they love me, they'll accept you."

"And if they don't?"

"I'll move here if I must," he grunted, lightly breezing past your chin. Your fingers dug into that stupid green sweater. In the monochrome grey of a desolate winter, it stood out like a blood-curdling scream.

Graceless, he walked with you backwards, pinning you to the broken shed. You felt its wet cold seep through the clothing.

You should really slap this bastard and yet when he kissed you, you moaned, eyes popping wide open. The Jin you knew would never do this - he wouldn't press you up against a wall, so needy, so assured, he wouldn't fly out into the middle of nowhere and charm your mother.

"Have you gone insane?" you whispered, pushing him away and yet he refused to budge more than two centimetres. When he exhaled, you could feel the warmth on your face.

"Quite possibly," Jin nodded, chasing your lips, the glimpse in his eye almost look crazed, desperate - without a doubt. "Please, I'll do anything for you. Take me back and I'll build a home for you. Be it Seoul, here, or anywhere you like."

"You wouldn't be happy outside of home."

"You are my home," he twirled the ring between his fingers, enveloping you in his embrace as you shuddered from the cold. "And won't let anyone ruin that."

HOSEOK: He darted from the seat, the second you were escorted into the private room. Gentle music and easy conversation swayed in the background, illuminated by the soft romantic lights of numerous candles adorning the white-clothed tables which you imagined looked much like the one Hoseok had sat by just a second ago. Tugging at your clothes, you couldn't help but flush from embarrassment. You were so clearly from a different tax bracket but carding through the closet, the best clothes you found were his. His presents to be exact, however, after everything that happened, it felt wrong. Showcasing his numerous gifts on you would just give the wrong kind of signal - that you were still his and that...You weren't anymore. That should be the end of that. Even if he clearly had something to say against it.

"___________," he gasped, appearing shocked. "Thank you for coming."

You waited for the server to leave, and only then you spoke. Calm, collected, without any emotion. You'd been practising the entire week now. But standing in front of a mirror and gazing at it with soul-sapped eyes was not the same as standing in front of the love of your life and keep insisting that it was all over.

"You hardly gave me a choice," you shrugged. "You hounded my co-workers, friends, landlord, my parents, Hoseok. My parents."

He cringed, biting on his lip.

"I know," Hoseok drawled guiltily. "But I was...I was desperate. You were just gone and I was going crazy."

With a sigh, silence settled between you.

"I believe fifteen minutes is what you asked for," you sat down, firmly rejecting his feeble attempts to pull out your chair. "So fifteen minutes is what you're going to get."

"Thank you," he bowed, quickly rushing to sit in front of you. "You're too gracious."

"That I am," you murmured, taking a long sip from the wine glass. Some couldn't hurt. Maybe even a lot. After all, he'd hurt you enough, no amount of alcohol could deal that kind of damage. Whether or not he'd heard you, you couldn't tell, either way, he ignored the remark.

Exhaling, a nerve-riddled breath, he fixed the lapels of his suit jacket and after fixating you with a firm gaze, said:

"I beg of you to take me back."

The wine splattered all over the white tablecloth. Feeling it drip unhandsomely down your chin, you reached for a napkin but Hoseok was quicker. He wiped the wine away, letting his fingers graze past your lips. Your heart hammered and h you wished that it would be from indignance.

"You can't be serious!"

"I am."

From the look in his eye, he really was not lying. That sort of cutthroat determination you'd seen on him only once - when he was dancing and trying to beat someone or something. The difference between the smiling, jovial man who asked you out on a date and that one was so startling it took you whole two business days to get over.

Hoseok was like a box of chocolates with the labels all crossed out. You could reach for one candy, expecting a sour tangy filling, of rum, perhaps, or a lemon zest and be met in the end by the sweetness of dripping caramel. It was fun for a while, it kept you on your toes and then...then it was less fun when you realized you never really knew the man you were with. When you couldn't reach for him on the saddest of days and expect assuredness of a well-rehearsed answer. He was always different and what you got, in the end, was no more than just a repainted mask he wielded against everyone else. Chocolates were good and fun but they couldn't substitute meals and expensive presents couldn't buy true love.

"________________, please, take m-"

"Hors d' oeuvres are served," the waiter, literally having spawned out of thin air, stated. Hoseok pulled away, jaw clenching in annoyance. "Tzaziki Shrimp Cucumber Rounds. Enjoy!"

"Thank you," you bid the waiter thinly. When the doors closed behind him, another pause of stilted silence lingered in the air.

"I know I'm asking much," Hoseok began but with a furious shake of the head, you interrupted.

"You're asking the impossible, Hoseok! What even? How did you? I mean, what?" stumbling, upon the words, you suppressed the deceitful sting in the corners of your eyes. "You're just saying these things because you know I'm weak."

"You're not weak!" he argued with a furrowed brow. "Don't you ever say such a thing about yourself!"

"Then why are you asking - "

"Because I love you!"

Your head quirked to gaze at him. Defeated, Hoseok sighed.

"I love you. Madly, utterly, completely. I was shit at showing it and I know you have every right to be mad at me. These past few weeks..." he trembled, glimpsing to the side. "Have been an honest hell. I hate myself for making you feel -"

"Cheap?" you finished, voice quivering. "Like I could be bought?"

"Yes," he swallowed in regret. "I can never fully undo the damage or express how sorry I am enough. But I do love you. I've never loved anyone like I do you," capturing your fingers in his, he continued. "I promise I will learn, I'll listen, I'll do anything you ask of me but, please, let me love you, let me cherish you, let us grow old together. There's a future for us, I know I crave it but so must -"

"You guys enjoying your food?"

This time a scream physically tore from your chest as unexpectedly a third figure simply manifested without any warning beforehand. Hoseok's grasp on your palm tightened and so did his jaw.

"What's your name?" he inquired the waiter, not letting his gaze stray away from your face. Not even a little bit.

"Jae!"

"Jae, do yourself a favour and get lost."

"Okay!" With a hollow smile, Jae scurried through the doors. The third and final bout of silence began.

"I can't be here anymore," you spluttered, detaching your hand from his. It wasn't surgically tied together, so why, why did it hurt so much?

"______________," Hoseok whimpered. In his mouth, your name sounded like a benediction. You couldn't stand to hear so much...love in his voice. Telling yourself he'd never loved you was the only dam that prevented you from crying one lonely night after the next. With the restaurant turning into a blur of cream colours, you rushed out into the street, maniacally looking for any escape. A bus stopped near and you ran towards it, uncaring about where it took you as long as it was far, far away.

You caught a glimpse of Hoseok chasing after you, despairingly trying to find you in the pandemonium that was a Friday evening in a well-known district. Over and over again, he traced every car and window but as you had ducked out of the sight, he couldn't do so, no matter the effort. When the bus rolled away, you saw his shoulders drop, and after pressing a palm over his mouth, he simply sobbed right there in the middle of the otherwise joyful crowd.

JIMIN: Anyone has had those times in their life, right? When you'd done something crazy, something you could only gape at from this point of view, wondering what the hell were you thinking. It didn't even feel like a part of your life at most times, merely a scandalous story you'd imagined, not lived through. You were happy to say that after three months, it had finally come to the point where you could delude yourself into thinking it had not been real. It did not feel real anyhow. Returning back to normalcy had sapped any credibility of the various memories bubbling right underneath your skin. On good days, you thought of Jimin only once, in passing, and then you lived your life. On bad days, however...on bad days you'd be plagued by his visage on every billboard and poster in the city, every radio would have his voice singing, and every innocuous google search would somehow end up in compilations of his laughter. You feared to remember and feared to forget it. But no matter how bad the days were before, it was nothing compared to the clammy dread pulsating with every one of your heartbeats.

"How do you even know who I am?" you licked at your dry lips, questioning if this too was even real. The time on the clock showed 3:26 am and on the phone, with you, there was Kim Namjoon.

"Jimin stares at your pictures all the time. He also mutters your name. In his sleep."

That... that can not be true.

"I...I don't -"

"Listen, __________, frankly, I don't quite know who exactly you are to Jimin or what even happened, I just know that he is spiralling. He's drinking every moment he gets, he doesn't eat, and he sleeps only when he can't stand upright anymore. The only time he's calm is when he's staring at your picture."

You lean into your duvet, feeling much like crying yourself.

"I realize you are not obligated to help him," Namjoon continues, much softer. "But please, I am scared for him and if he meant anything to you, just please, talk to him at least one last time."

This is not real. This is not real, keeps running through your mind as you board the plane, as it takes hours to go back to the one place you thought you'd be done with forever and climb onto the once familiar elevator. Your life is once again a dream. Or a nightmare. Yeah, that felt like it.

When you climbed out onto Jimin's floor, you were horrifically met by Namjoon and Taehyung, both of whom stared at you as though you were a mythical creature, ripped out of the pages of a long-lost fantasy book.

"He's in there," curtly, Namjoon tossed a head towards the doors, dragging gaping Taehyung with him. "We'll give you some room."

You nodded in compliance, pushing open the doors with a bated breath. Dusk had settled deep over the rooms and the air was stuffed full with the stench of alcohol. You wandered quietly through the apartment until at last you stumbled upon a crumpled figure wrapped haphazardly underneath a pile of blankets.

"Jimin?" you called out cautiously and the pile wobbled until a messy head poked through. His eyes were swollen, clearly having been crying for most if not the whole day, and dry spit clung to the corner of his mouth. He squinted at you standing in the middle of his bedroom.

"Go away," he grumbled and turned away.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

At the sound of your booming voice, he jolted, gripping the sides of his head.

"How dare you behave this way? How dare you degrade yourself to this level?!"

Blinking blearily, Jimin whimpered:

"___________________? Is it really you?"

"Who else could it possibly be?" you scoffed and he hiccuped, shamefully looking at the floor.

"Dunno...when I drink enough, I see you around."

You cringed, hearing this. No wonder, Namjoon said he was scared.

"And do I yell at you also?"

"No, you just say you hate me."

"I don't hate you," you sighed and Jimin's head whipped up so fast, you swore there was a crack.

"Then take me back," he fought with the sheets, to crawl out of the bed, one leg stuck in his trousers. "Take me back, please!"

"Have you no shame? No dignity left?" you wondered aloud, seeing him on his knees, still drunk most likely.

"I don't need dignity," he cried out. "I don't need pride. I just need you back. I need you," he swayed back and forth, growing hysteric. "You're the love of my life!"

"Don't say that when you're drunk," you snapped, willing yourself to treat him fairly. You'd coddled him before and it was at the expense of your own heart. Not this time. Not even when you wanted so bad it hurt. "They're just lies."

"They're not lies!"

"Well, I still don't believe you! Do you really think by ruining yourself you're making me love you more?! Do you really think that being pitiful is enough to earn my forgiveness?"

He choked back a sob, batting at his wet cheeks.

"I know you hate me..."

"I don't hate you! Why do you always think in extremes?! I'm disappointed! I'm angry! Get your fucking shit together, for God's sake, Jimin! I want you to respect me and respect yourself and not do whatever this is because this," harshly, you gestured over his crouched figure, trembling in the cold air of his messed up apartment. "This is not cute. It's terrifying!"

Perhaps you'd been too harsh but either way, Namjoon thanked you once a week passed and Jimin had returned to some form of normalcy.

Either way, it all began to feel like a dream again once you left, gazing at Seoul through the airplane window, how it shrank smaller and smaller until it disappeared entirely. Along with Park Jimin somewhere in it. Dragging your feet into the unmade bed, like the week abroad simply didn't exist, you sighed and numbly looked around. The unnamed feeling that had plagued you for months finally had a name. This was a house, it didn't feel like a home. Home was Jimin's apartment, his stupid kitchen and stupid dishtowels, his stupid gallons of beauty products and his stupid Chelsea boots he'd bought too much of. But you left him in Seoul. It's not like he'll chase you and beg again. Who would even do that? You suspected no one would. Who could possibly love you that much to not only abandon all their principles once but twice?

At a quiet ring of a doorbell, you groaned. Another cat missing?

Dejectedly, you shuffled to the front door, throwing it open and then feeling a stiff weight settle on top of you, enveloping their arms around you like a greedy spider.

You blinked at the ceiling, smelling the all-too-familiar perfume and the gentle, airy voice that came with it.

"Please, take me back."

TAEHYUNG: "Please, take me back."

"No."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't care."

The small crowd gasped when he dropped onto his knees, bowing in front of you.

"Have you lost your mind?!" you hissed, trying to drag him up. "Have you no pride left? No sense of shame?!"

It was maybe seconds, seconds until someone recognized him if they haven't done so already.

"No," he replied, muttering at the snow-covered ground. "I have no need for them if only you'll come back."

You didn't know why it was always winter when Taehyung was involved. You met in winter, you broke up in winter, he cried for you to come back in winter and you rejected him during that same winter. A year had passed and once more the ground was dusted with white snow, etching cold breaths into the air. There were no calls anymore, no more texts begging to just talk, to see you one last time. Even the one inquiry about whether or not you wanted your stuff was left on read.

Served him right, the logical part of your brain sneered. He'd hurt you, this was merely a taste of his own medicine. If only this self-righteousness would make you happy.

Walking past his billboards plastered towering and unattainable over the hustle of streets below, you couldn't help but linger, staring at his soft smile, promising the release of his album in a week's time. What a strange date. It was the same one you met it. It was fake, you could tell. His smile that is. When Taehyung smiled for real it inspired others to do the same, not walk past him, uncaring. You wondered where he was...a whole year had passed since he begged you on the knees...

"I'm right here," a deep voice spoke against the shell of your ear and you yelped, turning around. His hand shot out to steady you against the slippery pavement, keeping it around the padded material of your jacket for far longer than necessary. You decided not to remark upon it, selfishly absorbing this scrap. Where was your own dignity?

The little part of his face that you could see was wholly indecipherable, the only feature you could make out through the falling snow and his mask, were the dark of his eyes, staring fixedly at you.

"Hello," you breathed faintly.

"Hello."

You'd forgotten just how warm his voice was.

"Have you been doing well?" he asked, ignoring the mass of people trying to squeeze past you, grumbling in annoyance.

"...yes," you lied. "You?"

"No," he answered honestly, before adding softly. "I miss you."

"Taehyung -"

"I'm not going to lie, ____________," he shrugged. "I've been doing awful since you left. I still love you. What more is there to say?"

Your eyes flitted down at the familiar red around his neck.

"Is that my scarf?" you pointed out and he glanced down at it.

"Yes, it is," he drawled simply. "I found it among your old stuff. I've been wearing it ever since. It's lost your scent now," he sighed ruefully before sobering up. "Is that a creepy thing to say?"

"I -" you stammered. "I don't quite know."

He hummed.

"I saw you're about to release your album," you began, swaying awkwardly on the heels. You know you rejected him but...but couldn't you also want to see him? Let the faceless crowds of judgment ridicule you for your indecisiveness but you had shared a life together with Taehyung, seeing him, just like the first time you met, in the winter, made your heart ache with longing.

"I can send it over for you to listen," he casually suggested. "You might find it interesting."

"Oh," you dragged. "Don't you have strict protocols about that sort of thing?"

"I don't care," he stated. "It's my album, my heart, if I want to give it to you I will. Even if..." he trailed off, finally removing the hand that had been squeezing yours all this time. "Even if you don't want anything to do with it anymore."

When you saw him turn and leave, you floundered, but couldn't think of anything worthwhile to say. Nothing meaningful, nothing...honest. Brutal, bold honesty was always his forte, yours was to pretend.

"I haven't changed my address!" you called out after him. "I still live -"

"I know," Taehyung replied, glancing over his shoulder, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his brown coat. "I remember."

When the postman knocked on your door with the package marked as from KTH, it took all your courage to unwrap the blue ribbon, it may have taken it a bottle or two to even put the CD and listen. A card sat attached to the plastic case.

To my only angel, I loved you yesterday, love you today, and will love you tomorrow. Forever Yours, Kim Taehyung. It had dragged a deeply ugly sound from your throat - something between a wrecked sob and snorting laughter. As if you didn't know who he was.

The album itself was deeply melancholic, something one would expect of Taehyung but this was different. How you could not say, it just was. There was almost an anxious feeling about it. It seemed to weave through the various melodies like a thread across different-sized buttons. It wasn't until the last track which ended almost on a note of a piercing scream did you put together the pieces of the puzzle why it all seemed so familiar.

To my angel,

I always believed you were in the far, far sky

Turns out you're the face next to me

And in all that ever was or is meant to be,

I'd give anything to hear your dry, dry sigh

I know what you're going to say

It's been a year, you fool

But if only you gave me a chance you would see

A year, ten, twenty?

Means no difference to me,

My lonely angel.

Here it all was, the life you lived together, the life he lived after parting, all displayed in neatly aligned 12 tracks, meaning nothing to anyone and yet bearing everything to you. Each opaque reference lyricists would brush off as wordplay were snapshots of a mourned past. You had to...You had to find him. With a sudden urgency, you felt your body tremble, seized by this one, unshakeable impulse. You had to find him. To do what exactly? Who knows. But you couldn't sit here this night alone. Jumping on one foot, you got a boot over your foot and a scarf over your neck, yet when you yanked open the doors, there he already stood, hand raised, prepared to knock.

"Hello," you breathed faintly.

"Hello," he greeted and then to your shock, surprise and heartbreak, sunk to his knees, peering up at you, both solemn and terrified out of his mind. "Take me back?

JUNGKOOK: "That guy is staring at me."

"No, he's not. Shut up and eat your food."

Your date pouted unkindly.

"You're mean and bossy," he complained. "I'm not asking you out ever again."

"I'm practically bursting into tears," dryly, you retorted, taking a long drag of the shitty white whine he'd ordered. "Keep smiling, Jack, lest you want that guy to fashion you into a skin suit."

"My name is Jake."

"Hmmm whatever."

As you met gazes with the shadowy figure sitting and glaring pure hellfire from the corner of the restaurant, you wanted to cry. Laugh? Both? It was hard to say. But either way, Jungkook was a fucking dick who made your life a living hell. It was supposed to end with you victorious, slamming a door into his stupid nose, you were meant to walk away from this whole mess with your head held high, ego unbruised and heart absolutely detached. Or at least that's the promise you made until you saw the intense brown of his eyes, tracking your every move. He was absolutely full of his own shit.

By now you knew what he wanted, what was running through that fantastically mangled piece of meat he called a brain. He wanted to be taken back - into your bed, into your arms, into your home. Like a skinned mole, he'd burrowed his sneaky way into those forbidden places, with his stupid Elmo laugh, his golden heart and his...well, it all had made you a little bit stupid. It all had made your hand shove away all concerns and throw yourself head first into what must have been the most torrent love affair this side of the globe.

You knew every dirty part of his, the flaws he was so deathly afraid of showing, the embarrassment he'd rather first chew his own tongue off instead of revealing; in your hands, he'd bloomed like a beautiful flower and despite his mountain of problems, you still want him.

Wanted him, you amended in your mind, you wanted him, now you don't. Case closed. Pinatas for all.

But if you knew Jungkook down to every sinewy muscle and vein, so did he. He knew from the first meeting of your eyes that you didn't want to be here, you'd dragged yourself out here to be with Jacklyn, kicking and screaming, with the sole goal of fruitlessly showing yourself you could live on after every man had been ruined by this dopey kangaroo.

He knew that just beneath the tongue you were itching to get back with him, to go on those ridiculous dog playdates, to have him bouncing around the room, trying to dance all sexy only for his oversized clothes to remind you too keenly of a flag rather than a human. He knew you wanted to press your face into that chest, drag him down on top of you by his body chain, and be annoyed when he wouldn't fucking stop bumping into you.

But damned if you ever admit that out loud.

Too preoccupied with various musings of intimacy, you failed to see Jungkook grab an apple, draw his hand back like a bow and launch the apple at Jacob's head.

Falling on the floor, your brave date muttered "fuck this" and scrambled off.

All too smoothly, Jungkook took the now free seat.

"Hey, babe," he said, winking. "Missed me?"

"Fuck you!"

Storming off, you wrapped your coat tighter around yourself to protect yourself from the harsh wind but fuck all it did and fuck all your legs did against the fresno nightwalker known as Jungkook. It took five maybe six long strides for him to be right up in your face.

"Baby, let's just talk about this."

"Fuck you!"

"I'm so so sorry, I was wrong, you were right; always are. I bow my head in shame."

"Fuck you!"

His expression tightened, lips pursing in annoyance.

"Don't threaten me with a good time."

Another date. Another day. Another time your gaze trailed to Jungkook, waving at you from the bar.

"You're really beautiful," the new date choked out. "T-Though I can't help but feel you're not listening to me at all."

Your gaze darted to sit guiltily upon the tablecloth. Averys was a good guy, he'd been nice, just all right and yet...yet it was not enough. And you knew that. And Jungkook knew that. And it was all so very annoying.

"Listen, Alec, you're cute, I'm just in a...weird situationship."

"My name's Alex."

"Oh," your mouth popped open and against your will you found Jungkook's eyes, staring at you with this longing across the floor. "My bad."

"Does he make you laugh?"Jungkook's arm wrapped possessively around your waist, pushing you into his chest when you tried to escape him after Alex had left, leaving you alone against Jungkook in the middle of the street. "Does he make you cum?"

"You're vulgar!" you snapped.

"So, does he?"

"No, but at least," your lip wobbled and from the sheer shock of seeing your tears, Jungkook's grip loosened. "A-At least he doesn't make me cry."

Scuffing your shoes against the gravel ground, disinterestedly you swayed on the rusty swing, hearing it screech painfully with every movement. Somehow you could relate to that sound. There was no one for you but Jungkook but he was...he also was not an option. Not anymore. Like your relationship it'd been funny at first and then it stopped. It stopped being funny when the time came to be serious, to take responsibility and he just couldn't do that.

Wiping away your tears, you jolted when someone sat beside you. Jungkook, gazing mournfully at the ground, echoed the same pitiful swinging, having no more energy to put behind it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to make you cry. I never did."

"But you still did," you pointed out and he nodded sadly.

"I still did."

Sigh.

"Nothing I ever say will make it enough, right?" he clarified, reaching to gently hold your hand as you swing. "You won't believe it."

"Promises are just words," you sniffled. "Everyone says words. Most don't mean a thing with them."

"But actions speak louder than words, don't they?"

With your hand in his, it felt right but no matter how good it was, it didn't change the fact he disappeared. With a postcard in the mail, he disappeared, leaving nothing but "one day you and I will love again."

And five years passed. Five years - you're a new person, it's an all-new world, everything has changed but your heart fluttering, stumbling drunkenly in your chest remained all the same. When you opened the door Jungkook gasped, face partially hidden behind the flowers. He was changed as well, with hair much longer, tattoos covering his arm, and piercings littered across his face yet his eyes were the same and the way they stared at you brought you all those years back - when you've felt the most wanted in your entire life.

"_______________," he breathed like a prayer. "Can I come in?"

Mutely, you nodded, failing to grasp both your voice and reasons why this was a very, very bad idea. Twirling around, his eyes flitted between your private pieces, the bits of your heart displayed all around the temporary home. Every home had been temporary since him but such a thing should never be spoken aloud.

"What are you doing here?" tiredly, you asked and Jungkook reached to hand you a paper. Squinting at it you read, growing confused, messed up, teary and frightened all at the same time.

"Due to the client's personal wishes, ____________ ____________ is criminally and lawfully free of any non-disclosure agreement made between ___________ _________, the client and Hybe/Bighit Entertainment. ____________ _________ is hereby granted public and private freedom to discuss any and all information about the client. The client has been made aware of all pertaining possibilities of such an act and has consented to have this statement be signed and all of its subsequent consequences."

With the paper shuddering in your hands, you peered at him.

"Actions speak louder than words, right?" Jungkook chuckled nervously, scratching at the nape of his neck

"Why would you do such a thing?!" you yelped. " I could...I could destroy you!"

Yet he merely shrugged.

"Why not? I'm already ruined without you," his expression darkened, a frown marring the lovely features. "Five years had passed and not a day hasn't gone by without me thinking of you. You don't know how long I've stared at your pictures with Alex and wished that it was me," he sighed. "How many nights have I cried myself to sleep, praying I could just get five minutes with you."

"Don't say that."

"It's true."

After a moment of silence, you spoke faintly:

"We broke up. Alex and I."

"I know," Jungkook nodded thoughtfully. "I saw you get together and waited."

"What if we hadn't broken up?" you whispered, not noticing that he'd taken a step closer. Those damn eyes of his always entranced you. "What if we got married?"

"I'd still wait for you," he mumbled, glaring at his shoes. "I'd wait for you my whole life. When I left, I realized I needed to grow up. For you. So I did all I could and when you...when you were with him...well, I didn't want to make life hard for you. Didn't dare to make you cry again. I was good," his voice quivered. "I was really good for you, baby. All grown up now. So, please, if you can, take me back. I'll be good, I promise."

© soraviii/soraviie 2022-2023

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

how do you feel about march eridan?

Ok disclaimer before I get into it, trolls wearing dresses = great and fantastic; in fact, given that the gender differences in troll culture are so much less significant, ALL the male trolls should own some femme-ass clothes, even if it's as simple as just having a skirt version of their pants, and it's a little lame that we didn't get that.

That said, March Eridan specifically kind of annoys me because it has 0 basis in canon (aside from some shoutouts in things like ministrife sprites) but has taken over Eridan discussions so wholly that it's become widely accepted as part of his character that he's really into femme stuff when the opposite is true, and he's got some pretty major characterization tied up in the fact that he does lean so masc, and what specific type of masc he tends to present as.

So first of all, Eridan dresses up to emulate Dualscar, and this is very obvious and straightforward; if you've read the big essay I have pinned to my blog, you know that this is all a part of his basic "I have to be a big bad sea dweller or Something Bad Will Happen" suite of issues.

Thus, we can ALSO assume that the choices he made that aren't made to emulate Dualscar are reflective of his ACTUAL taste in clothing. For example, blue pants instead of purple and black - I believe that this is because Eridan likes to dress up in the blood colors of his dates; he wears a lot of blue because he's hatedating Vriska (and never quite seems to get 100% over her), and we also see this in the rings on his fingers - half of which are fuchsia, for Feferi.

So that leaves us with the glasses, shoes, and scarf. And we know why he dresses like that! It's because he's a hipster. (The scarf has an added benefit of being associated with harry potter-style wizards).

CCG: PAST YOU, PRESENT YOU, FUTURE YOU CCG: AND ABOVE ALL, UGLY SCARFNECKED DOUCHEBAG HIPSTER YOU CCG: WAIT I FORGOT, ALL OF THE YOUS ARE THAT YOU

And very specifically, a masc hipster from the era - the glasses and the ugly-ass shoes are dead giveaways. The slicked-back hair is reminiscent of that fashion style, too. He is also a douchebag. This too is important. He draws from character archetypes of the time that were generally agreed upon to be the most punchable people in existence; his introduction calls him "KIND OF A TOOL" and he consistently acts according to that. Like, I mean, just LOOK at those shades. Those are not the shades of somebody you want to be trapped in a conversation with.

A fairly accurate Eridan fashion board would look something like this:

And, like, it kind of matters that he dresses like this specific breed of pretentious male douchebag; on a meta level, that's the impression he's supposed to give the audience, and on a diegetic level, he CHOOSES to look like this because he has these kinds of interests, but is relegating them to secondary accessories.

We never hear him talk about liking hipster shit; we have to hear it from Karkat and glean it from his design. This is because, as I've talked about before, he actively distances himself from things that make him happy, things that he'd enjoy. The constant push-pull between his ACTUAL interests, and the ones he thinks he has to have because he's supposed to be a big nasty sea dweller, is a huge part of his characterization - for example, the way he keeps claiming that magic and wizards are fake and shitty, but has no less than 6 wizard statues in his respiteblock alone, and cared about his crappy wands enough to bring them onto the meteor.

So that's one of my other issues with March Eridan and the general fanon that he'd be really into femme clothes (and, by extension, fashion) - he wouldn't be forthcoming about it, even if it was true. He has a deep sense of shame and insecurity surrounding what few interests he actually has, because they feel stupid, ridiculous, and frivolous, next to the intense anxiety he has about playing the role society gave him. He's got a very strong sense of duty that makes it very difficult for him to relax and actually enjoy something. Which, you know, probably feeds into his hipster-ness - a movement often defined more by what it doesn't approve of than what it does.

Canon Eridan, when he has a choice of what to wear, overwhelmingly chooses masculine clothing with hipster connotations. And this matters, it's part of his characterization, it says something about him, the same way that it's important that Karkat dresses very simply and baggily (we all know how many insecurities Karkat has about his body) or that Sollux's bifurcation is shown in his clothes. So please please please don't misunderstand my dislike of March Eridan as me saying I don't want him in dresses; I purely dislike it because it's usually SUCH a misread of his character.

And to prove it, here's my other gripe with March Eridan stuff: all the dresses shown in the not-canon "official" artworks don't even flatter his bodytype. Why do his custom mannequins in Pesterquest have CURVES when his Pesterquest sprite doesn't?????

Please, I'm begging you, there are guides for dressing this body type, and even historical fashions that deliberately try to emulate this body type, please if you're going to dress him femme and HC that he enjoys fashion, please put him in clothes that flatter him please

I think Eridan should own some femme clothes, because on Alternia, there are very few differences between the genders, he's rich enough to afford it, and he clearly has more of an interest in fashion in general - but I think the fact that he has a clear canon preference for masculine styles is significant, and I'm really annoying, so it kind of does bothers me that this is a controversial opinion. That being said, I don't want to tell people what they Should and Should Not do, because that's lame. Who cares. He's a fictional character, let people draw him in dresses. Would be very happy if this post causes people to draw him in different styles of dresses though :pray:

[topguncortez]

Leave the Door open | Bradley Bradshaw x Female!Reader

Bradley Bradshaw Masterlist | Main Masterlist

synopsis: Bradley's world gets tilted off its axis when he meets a certain blonde haired, green eyed female. based off this request

word count: 2.6k

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, mentions of nudity, fear, cursing, mentions of abortion, happy ending:)

His mind was completely blank, and that never happened. Rooster’s mind was always busy, hearing, analyzing, and thinking of everything and anything around him. It took a lot for Rooster to be speechless, but hearing you cry over the phone, begging him to come over right this very moment, had him forgetting everything. The drive to your place, which usually brought a smile to Rooster’s face was filled with eerie silence and dread. 

The two of you had been together for just over a year. Rooster could remember the moment he saw you, the girl sitting alone at the bar. The pink sundress you wore stood out against the sea of khaki and green-colored uniforms. Rooster had been eyeing you all night, mustering up the courage to go order you a drink. But all courage was lost when Hangman waltzed up to you and pulled you in for a tight hug. Of course, the pretty girl in the pretty sundress was waiting for the biggest douchebag that Rooster had ever met. And to make matters worse, Jake had sauntered over to the group, his arm around your shoulders and a bright smile on his face. 

“Who’s the girl, Bagman?” Phoenix asked. 

“This is my sister,” Jake smiled, “My baby sister, so no funny ideas. Even you, Trace.” 

And just like that, the courage returned to Rooster’s body. From the moment he introduced himself to you, till Penny called last call, Rooster was by your side. The two of you had hit it off immediately, the sparks flying so bright, you could probably see them from outer space. Hangman tried to do the whole big brother protective bit, but it was no use. If there was one thing that brought him joy, other than flying, it was seeing his sister’s bright smile. 

Rooster was so lucky to have you. You understood the world that he lived in. You knew how crazy and unpredictable his career could be. Some nights he’d fall asleep in bed beside you, and some nights he’d fall asleep in a bunk in the middle of the Indian Ocean. You got along with his friends, and could keep up with their ribbing and jokes. You also understood how important his career was to him. You weren’t too crazy about getting married and doing the whole kid thing. You just wanted to relax, see the world, and spend time with the love of your life.

Rooster had basically broken all traffic laws to get to your apartment as fast as he could. When you opened the door, his heart broke in half. Your face was puffy and red, tears still evident in your eyes. Rooster didn’t say anything but pulled you in for a hug. He could hardly make out the words you were saying but his ears caught the words ‘I’m so fucking sorry,’. It felt like hot lava was poured down his back as he stiffened, his mind now caught up with what was going on. 

He’d seen this all before. The cryptic texts, the odd behavior, and now you were in front of him crying and apologizing over and over. He had just hoped that this time you hadn’t cheated on him with one of his wingmen. 

“What happened? What’s wrong?” Rooster asked, rubbing your back slowly. You pulled away wiping your eyes and shook your head, “Y/N, tell me what’s wrong?”

“I-I,” You tried to speak, but your words were falling short. You held your face in your hands as sobs racked your body. Rooster felt nothing but anger as he watched you cry in front of him. He hated when they would cry before breaking his heart. He always thought it was selfish. 

“What did you do?” Rooster asked, crossing his arms across his chest. You just shook your head, gasping for air in between cries. Rooster huffed, growing frustrated, “What did you do, Y/N? Just fucking say it!”

“I’m pregnant!”

You could hear a pin drop as soon as you said it. Rooster took a step back from you and you felt like your whole world shattered. You shook your head and turned on your feet to rush down the hall, feeling that all too familiar feeling rises in your throat. You were surprised that you managed to push the nausea away for this long. Rooster was stuck in his spot as he tried to will his brain to function again. 

How did this happen? We’ve always been careful. I don’t get it. When did this happen? 

Rooster’s jaw dropped as he thought back to that one night six weeks ago, before his last mission. The two of you had been at Mav and Penny’s cookout for way longer than you wanted to be. But between the good conversation and the drinks, time had slipped by you. Rooster could remember stumbling through the front door, hands all over each other’s bodies, lips pressed together. He had taken you right up against the front door, both too eager to make it to the bedroom. The whole night you two spent tangled in between the sheets, both too lost in pleasure to think twice about putting a condom on. 

“Rooster.” 

He napped back to reality as the sound of his callsign fell from your lips. His honey-brown eyes looked around your living room with wide eyes, noticing the ripped-open box of pregnancy tests on the floor, along with the Target bag and receipts. He also noticed the empty water bottles around the couch and your shoes and coat kicked off haphazardly around the room. If there was one thing about you, you weren’t going to tell him unless you knew for sure, and it was clear what the answer was. 

“Bradley,” You called his name again from your spot in the hallway. He lifted his head from the mess in the living room to your small frame. You felt exposed as he stared at you. 

Rooster felt like he couldn’t breathe like the ceiling and walls were caving in. He felt sick to his stomach as you walked out of the bathroom, red tear stains on your cheeks. Your arms were crossed over your belly in a protective manner, as if you were protecting the precious life inside you. 

The life he helped create. 

“Bradley, can you-” 

Rooster shook his head, taking a slow step back from you. Your eyebrows furrowed, and you felt your heartbeat in your ears as you watched the man who you swore wasn’t afraid of anything, turn on his heel and out the front door. 

———————————

“What do you mean he just left?” Jake asked you over the phone. You had called him sobbing after Rooster had left, “Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, Jacob!” You cried as you paced in front of your fireplace. It had been a little over three hours since Bradley left your house without a word. You had followed him out the front door, but he moved as though someone lit a fire under his ass. You yelled his name as he backed the Bronco out of the driveway and took off faster than the speed limit. It took all your power to not collapse to your knees in the driveway, but the moment you made it back inside, you were on the ground in a pile of tears. You had tried calling Bradley’s phone for almost an hour, every single time getting his voicemail box before you gave up and called your brother. 

Jake was the second person you had told about the pregnancy. You had been in a toss-up on who to tell first; Jake or Rooster. If you knew that Rooster was going to respond the way he did, you would’ve told Jake first, “He just left! I-I don’t know what to do! Jake, I can’t do this-” 

“Okay, you need to take a deep breath,” Jake said, cutting you off. He knew you were scared, it was obvious by the sound of your voice. He knew that kids were never in your future plans, but he also knew the type of person you are. You’d handle this in stride, with or without Bradley. You were raised by a strong single mother. Both you and Jake knew you had the strength and integrity to be a mother. But Jake also knew you wouldn’t want to raise a child alone if you had the option not to do so. 

“You’ll pass out from crying,” Jake said, as he drove up and down the streets. He knew there was probably one place that Rooster would always go, “I’m heading to a spot where I think he’ll be, but you need to calm down.”

“Okay,” You sniffled, sitting down on your couch. 

“Y/N?”

“Yes, Jake?”

“Breathe.” You smiled at his words, “It’ll be okay,”

“Thank you, Jake.”

“No problem. Just know I’m going to be the favorite uncle.” Jake smiled. You rolled your eyes and said goodbye to your brother, before hanging up. Jake was right about where he thought Rooster would be. 

It was a park bench where his parents had gotten engaged years ago. The old wooden bench was tucked away by overgrown bushes and trees, but the look was still the same some 30 years later. Rooster had a picture, probably the last picture of all three of them, sitting on this exact bench, dated only a day before his father had died. The place had become Rooster’s escape, the quiet place he could go to clear his mind. He had taken you here once, creating a new memory and picture to last a lifetime. Rooster thought as he sat down on the old bench, about recreating that picture with his own child. 

“You left my baby sister in tears and in a panic,” Jake said, walking up to his wingman. Jake sat down on the opposite end of the bench with a sigh. They both sat in silence for a moment, looking out at the dark ocean, hearing the waves crash against the white sand. The moon was high in the sky, illuminating the world.

“Thought you quit?” 

“I did,” Rooster grumbled, taking a drag of the cigarette in his hand, “Only do it on occasion. Don’t tell her that though.” 

Jake just shrugged his shoulders, “I think you smoking is the least of her worries right now.” 

“She told you?” 

“She told me,” Jake nodded, “She’s pregnant?” 

“That’s what she said,” Rooster said, throwing his cigarette bud on the ground and stomping it out, “And I just fucking left! God, I did the thing I promised her I would never do!”

“And that is…”

“Walk out when things get hard,” Rooster said softly, “She said everyone walks out on her, and that’s why it took her so long to say ‘yes’ to dating me… she didn’t want me to be like everyone else, and I did exactly that.”

“The difference though, you have time to fix it,” Jake said, “She’s at home, scared, a mess, and worried about you. She even used the words ‘Jake, what if he wrapped his car around a pole?’ You need to go talk to her. You’re the only one who can make a decision in this scenario. You know what is right.”

Rooster nodded and pushed himself off the bench, “Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me yet,” Jake said, “Go home and make things right. And don’t make me regret giving you this little pep talk.”  

Rooster chuckled and patted Jake on the back before getting into his car. Rooster stopped at a flower shop to get a bouquet of your favorite flowers before heading back to your apartment. He shed off his jacket, hoping that would help with the smoke smell. He took a deep breath as he noticed the only light that was on was in your bathroom.

————————-

You lay motionless in the tub, your head resting on the side of it. You lit some small tea candles to give the bathroom a soft glow. Your body had started to hurt from crying and being sick. Your head was pounding and all you wanted to do was be surrounded by warmth. Usually, you had Rooster to do that, but you had no clue where he was.

Your head picked up slightly at the sound of the lock turning and the door opening. You sighed, hoping it wasn’t an intruder, but you knew it was more than likely Rooster, since he was the only one with a key to your apartment. Whoever the stranger was, knocked softly on the closed bathroom door.

“Baby? You in there?” Rooster’s voice sounded out. You stayed quiet, not feeling the strength to face him just yet, “Baby, please respond. Just let me know that you’re in there so I don’t have to go file a missing persons report.” 

You huff and sit up a bit in the tub, “I’m in here.” 

Rooster sighed and leaned his forehead against the door, “Please. . .” His voice sounded fragile and broken as if he had been crying, “Please, can you open the door?” 

“It’s open,” You said softly. 

Rooster pushed the door open, leading with the bouquet of flowers. You couldn’t help but chuckle as he walked in with his eye covered, trying to give you some privacy. The tub was large enough that you could have your modesty covered. He placed the flowers down on the counter and then sat by you on the ground outside of the bath. Rooster gently placed his hand on your cheek, and you nestled into the feeling.

“I am so sorry for walking out the door,” Rooster said, looking at your bloodshot eyes, “I don’t even know why I did that. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“It’s okay,” You said softly but Rooster shook his head.

“It’s not, and don’t say it is,” Rooster said, “I was there too, I partook in creating a baby, and I ran like a coward,” Rooster took a shaky breath, “I got scared, I still am scared. I mean, we aren’t married and we haven’t even thought about having kids… I’m terrified I am going to do the wrong thing. I’m absolutely shitting myself right now ‘cause I smell like cigarettes and I don’t want it to harm the baby.” You smiled at Rooster lovingly, “But I am here, for whatever you decided, I will be by your side.”

“You- you mean that?” You asked him honestly. You would be lying if the thought of exercising your right to choose didn’t cross your mind. You didn’t have a job currently, trying to finish your degree online. Rooster was busy with his new role at TopGun and taking every mission that came across his desk. You thought in the back of your mind, there was no way you could have a child right now.

“Yes,” Rooster said and you believed him. Rooster wasn’t going to force you to do something you didn’t want to do, “If having an abortion is what you choose, I will be right next to you holding your hands and fighting off those stupid fucking protestors with my bare hands. If you decide to go through with the pregnancy, I’ll let you curse me out while you’re in labor. I am right here, baby, you’d have to kill me to get rid of me.”

You smiled and leaned in to kiss Rooster. Rooster’s chapped lips met yours and placed a kiss full of love on your lips, “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you,” You spoke, leaning your forehead against his, and pushing a strand of brown hair behind his ear.

“I never, ever want you to know either. Baby, you’ll never be alone,” Rooster whispered, “I’m here.”

“We’re having a baby…”

“We’re having a fucking baby…”

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[fbfh]

Good morning, I loved your stories about Leo x reader (especially where she is the daughter of Poseidon) you helped me with a story that made me angry about Leo and reader (and calypso about homewrecker, I don't think Leo is like that especially because of his dad )a question how I read if someone tries to flirt with their beloved mermaid (reader daughter of poseidon) :3

babes I am literally sobbing!!!! /pos honestly calypso would be a homewrecker if anyone wanted her. which no one does lol. and you are completely fucking correct our beloved Leo would NEVER. Esperanza raised him WAY better than that. if someone tried to homewreck him he would legitimately laugh in their face.

aaaaaaah leo x daughter of poseidon/mermaid!reader is a personal fave of mine <3 the vibe is sinkin in by cody simpson. one thing you and Percy both inhereted from your dad is extreme levels of both sass and loyalty. Leo knows this. Annabeth knows this. everyone knows this. apparenlty everyone except some douchebag frat bro playing beer pong with his buddies when you came back from swimming. (thankfully you were gifted something from your dad that lets you keep your land legs and only switch to h2o just add water mode when you want to. it's a gorgeous pair of anklets decorated with pearls, sea glass, starfish, and sand dollars.) once you get close enough to the shore, you say the word to switch to your land legs (terr) and feel your tail, your glimmering opalescent scales dissolve into sea foam. once you break the surface and walk up the beach to Leo, you hand him all the shells and cool rocks you found. you're always giving him little trinkets like that but it makes his heart jump every time. Leo tucks them carefully into his tool belt, and kisses you on the cheek before walking away to get you something cold to drink.

frat bro sees you in you, glittering and glowing wiht the ocean behind you, and he's just... drawn in. you have a very siren like aura, so you're pretty used to this. he uses all of his weak attempts to rizz you up, but you remain painfully unimpressed the whole time. when Leo gets back, he just laughs.

"I gotta hand it to you, man," he says to the frat bro as he hands you your favorite drink, "you got good taste."

the guy is very confused, but you're both just biting back a laugh. Leo knows why this guy is even still hanging around you, it's because you were waiting for him to get back so you can watch Leo do what he does best - roast the living shit out of guys who keep trying to flirt with you in the most hilarious and creative ways possible. it's always delightful, and once he really gets going you can't help but jump in with some classic child of poseidon sass. roasting people truly is your and leo's love language.