#story: beckoning light

[yandere-monoma]

So, Jade Strider, huh? What’s her deal? She still seems very Jade but like more vulgar and definitely dealing with some shit.

THANK YOU FOR THIS QUESTION MWAH

YEAH jade strider is very jade. imo the strilondes are very malleable when it comes to switching their guardians around versus all the prospit bitches who tend to retain so much of their 'original' personalities and i base that largely on the fact that dave and rose seem to be incredibly impressionable while john and jade tend to be more rebellious with their guardians. dave engages in the irony bullshit, rose engages in the passive aggressive mind game war, john complains and bitches about his dad's lame bullshit constantly and jade.... U_U jade.

so yeah, jade strider is dealing with some SHIT. in the killswitch universe, all the guardians are fixed points that force whoever they're with through the same plotline. so bro strider will always train the kid that lands on his doorstep and that training will always grow into something twisted as hell, just like mom will always drink and neglect her kid, and dad will always do his best to nurture his kid to the best of his flawed ability, and jake. U_U JAKE........................

also:

it's so fun thinking about rose strider vs jade strider because ultimately, rose is playing a mind game with herself, and is actively sand violently self-harming on top of everything bro is doing to her, and that's why she ends up so ultimately fucked. meanwhile, jade copes by just going into brain empty mode. 100% ID, impulsive as hell, probably got some stunted emotional and social development that she is just NOT going to think about ever. so she honestly seems like. so well adjusted in comparison but :) can a strider ever be mentally well the answer is no HAHA

[pprodsuga]

tides of regret | heeseung

summary: in the year since heeseung first rejected your love confession, you've tried everything to get over him. a trip to europe makes you realize you miss your former best friend more than anything, and it makes heeseung realize he's got it all wrong.

notes: aaand she's here! this is 24.4K words worth of my heart and soul. consider this a token of my appreciation for welcoming me on enhablr. i sincerely hope you enjoy it. <3

deep cuts: #1

warnings: angst/internal self doubt, playful banter, dirty talking, praise, slight degradation, oral (m and f receiving), dry humping, fingering, mentions of exhibitionism and face sitting, nipple sucking, spit, brief moment of anal (tongue only), condom removal, unprotected sex, creampie.

For @enha-stars – may this story rip you apart and stitch you back together.

masterlist

Incheon feels lonely at three in the morning. 

The overhead lights being turned off because of the lack of travelers at this hour makes the airport feel bigger than it actually is. It’s too quiet without the familiar sounds of luggage wheels on the linoleum or overhead speakers announcing flight changes every ten minutes. You don’t think you’ve ever been to an airport so early in your life. 

It’s quiet enough to leave you alone with your bothersome thoughts. In the years you’ve been away from home as you studied abroad, you can’t help but feel a gravitational pull towards life in Seoul and the people in it. The familiarity of your home outweighs the adventure you once yearned for in your youth, and now you’re left with the exciting notion that, this time, you’ll know when you’ll be coming back.

The terminal has an abundance of seating. Your backpack rests on the seat beside you as Jay double checks the gate number while the rest of your friends find a spot on the seats next to you, attempting to find an ounce of comfort in the dimly lit area.

“I know leaving early saved us hundreds of dollars, but I need sleep,” Sunghoon says from beside you. His usually well kept hair falls in all sorts of places like he woke up without a second thought and hailed a taxi the minute he opened his eyes. 

“You’ll thank me later,” Jay says. “We can sleep on the plane.”

“Our flight doesn’t leave for another two hours,” Jake whines from beside him as he yawns. “How am I supposed to sleep on these god forsakes chairs?” 

“Quit whining and try,” Jay retorts. He looks behind him to see the rest of your friend group approach before glancing over to you. “Doing okay?” 

“How come Y/N gets preferential treatment?” Jake beckons. 

“Because she isn’t a nuisance like you,” Jay immediately fires back before diverting his attention towards you again. 

“I’m alright,” you say, stifling a yawn behind your hand. “Just cold and sleepy.” 

“Hopefully they turn off the damn AC,” Sunghoon says as he pulls his sweatshirt over his head. “I feel like my veins are being injected with ice.”

“It’ll warm up when more people come,” Jay reasons. “I wish there was a coffee stand that was open. I need a cup.” 

“I could go for one,” you agree. “I’m trying to stay awake for the next couple of hours so I can sleep on the plane.” 

The rest of your friend group appear behind Jay and you look down to check your phone for any notifications when Heeseung catches your eye. It takes you by surprise and you abruptly look back at your screen and busy yourself by aimlessly scrolling through social media as he attempts to occupy the empty seat beside you, but Jake beats him to it.

“I’m gonna freeze to death and then all of you are gonna have to deal with my frozen body.” Jake dramatically slouches down onto the seat until his head finds your shoulder, nuzzling his cheek as if trying to find comfort in you. “Jesus, Y/N, you’re so warm.”

You laugh. “I wore layers.” 

“You’re gonna regret that when we get on the plane,” Jake mumbles. 

Heeseung, from the corner of your eyes, opts to move to the seats in front of you. You try not to pay him any mind.

You snort. “Yeah, well I can take these layers off while you freeze until you become an icicle.” Jake hums when you let your head fall onto his. 

“You know I’m not built for the cold. Australia’s my home.”

“And yet you moved to Korea,” Sunghoon provokes. 

Jungwon and Riki are rummaging through the bag of snacks you’d brought for an early breakfast until the restaurants and coffee stands around you open up. Jake’s right, it’s far too cold to stop shivering, but you suppose you’re grateful that the discomfort distracts you from sleeping too early. 

“I can’t believe we’re finally going on this trip,” Sunoo says from above you. With your head still on Jake’s, you turn to look at the boy speaking. “I’m really excited for you to show us where you’ve been for the past four years.”

A tiny smile graces your lips. “I’m excited to show you around London and Paris. The latter is a two hour train ride. My friends and I would go every few weekends or so to explore the city. Pictures and videos don’t do them justice.” You sigh as you reminisce. “I really did think that I’d end up living there when I graduated.” 

“Why didn’t you?” 

“Missed home too much, I guess.” You shrug. “Though, I can’t believe Riki went through a growth spurt in the last two years that I was gone.”

“You went back to Okayama before Y/N came back for holiday break, right?” Jungwon asks, looking between the both of you.

“That’s right,” Riki says. “I was sad that I couldn’t see you before you went back to school.”

“Now he’s twice my height.” You gesture at the younger boy. He’s too shy with the sudden affection and chooses to bury his head in Jungwon’s shoulder. “You were so little.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles. 

“I can’t believe you’re fluent in English now.” Jungwon pushes Riki off of his arm. “You, Jake, and Jay are kind of scary when you speak English.”

“It was a little hard at first. I used to watch a lot of American cinema so I could understand it better than I could speak it. But I can’t lie, it’s fun being able to talk to them in English.”

“You were so cute trying to string phrases together during your first summer back,” Jay coos. “Texting her in English was funny because she couldn’t understand the difference between spelling.”

“Poor Jake.” You pull your head from his and look down at him. “You probably had aneurysms looking at my grammar.” 

You lift your head to see that the aforementioned has fallen asleep amongst the conversation with his mouth slightly ajar and soft snores echoing past your ear. You don’t move when Jay asks if you want Jake off of your shoulder, but you shake your head.

Conversation falls flat when the group unanimously decides that sleepiness is overtaking the need to socialize. Jay keeps checking his watch to look out for the time while your eyes try to look anywhere but at Heeseung. 

It’s odd, the way two people can lose a friendship overnight. The heartbreak that came with romantic rejection wasn’t nearly as bad as realizing texts and phone calls were far fewer in between the moment you had arrived back in Europe to finish your studies. It hurt to know that neither one of you felt comfortable enough to see each other when you were back in your hometown unless the two of you were invited to hang out with mutual friends. 

Still, seeing Heeseung after he had rejected your confession felt like a punch to the gut. 

Long gone were the days of being able to send him unimportant updates about your life abroad or what you were doing at any given summer day back home. You couldn’t ask him to go to the restaurants you used to frequent near his house or yours. You certainly couldn’t call him at random hours because you were bored and missed his voice. 

It wasn’t for the lack of trying. It felt like things might've gone back to normal after a short period of not talking, but your texts going unanswered and your calls going to voicemail was all you needed to know. 

Perhaps it’s why you’re comfortable spearheading this vacation with Jay, who had made it a point to visit you in London when you’d chosen to stay behind instead of going home for the holiday break. The two of you had never spent time alone prior to then, but it touched you that he’d go out of his way to dedicate an entire day to visit you when he was there for a family vacation. 

Coming back to Korea the summer after graduating felt like you were making the right choice, even if your head was telling you to find a home in Europe. Still fresh from your unresolved rejection, stepping off of the plane and knowing you wouldn’t be returning back to your university’s town made the uncomfortable reality of coming face-to-face with Heeseung sink in. You’d have to live with the consequences. 

But it’s been eight months since you returned, six months since Jay’s dad was gracious enough to offer you a position on his marketing team, and five months since he encouraged your entire friend group to take a trip to your old stomping grounds. 

The proposition felt too sudden, especially with how little experience you had working with his team, but you’d spend an evening with the Park family for him to consider you an honorary member. Though, you’re sure Jay might’ve told him something happened between you and Heeseung, especially after telling everyone you wouldn’t be coming home for the holidays. 

To this day, you haven’t uttered a single word to your friends about what happened the night Heeseung rejected your love confession. If you know him as well as you think you do, you don’t think he's told anyone either. 

“Cafes are opening up,” Jay notes. Sunghoon’s ears perk up. “Three of us should go get food and drinks while the rest save our seats.” 

The airport overhead lights must’ve turned on while you were deep in thought. Jay’s right, the coffee stands have opened and it’s likely due to the new influx of travelers who’ve arrived at the airport. Foot traffic is still light and you know Jay wants to get ahead of the crowd. 

Jake has woken up because of the growing murmur around him and lifts himself off of your head to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. He yawns once more but tries his best not to fall asleep again.

“How long was I out?”

“Twenty minutes, give or take,” Sunghoon answers.

“Sorry for sleeping on you,” Jake apologizes. 

“It’s okay. You needed it.” He scrunches his face, not used to the new lighting. “Jay, I’ll come with you to get coffee. I need to stretch my legs.” 

“I’ll help as well.” Heeseung speaks for the first time in a while and his voice nearly catches you off guard. 

“Sure.” Jay gathers everybody’s orders before the two of you follow him around the terminal. 

The line isn’t unbearably long, but with Heeseung towering behind you, it feels like you’ve been standing for hours. You shift from one foot to the other in order to find a happy medium to no avail. Jay orders for the group and you pay attention to him more than you care to when you realize Heeseung is now standing beside you to make room for more people to wait in line. He’s considerate like that and you hate it. 

When the baristas are finished with your order, you reach for the bag of sandwiches in your haste to escape Heeseung. But your fingers touch the steam and you drop the bag into the counter with a hiss.

“Careful,” Heeseung says. “Don’t get hurt, please.” 

Your clumsy nature was always something he teased you for. Heeseung sounds so sincere about his worry that you think you’d rather him pour all of the hot coffee on you instead. 

“Thanks.” You grab the bag with so much as a single moment of eye contact before realizing Jay has started walking back. 

Breakfast is eaten in silence. Everyone is too tired to speak, save for Jake whose twenty minute nap has rendered him a little more awake than the rest of you. You and Sunghoon share your egg sandwich and chocolate croissant respectively without a word spoken between the two of you. 

Meanwhile, Heeseung is staring at the way your thighs are close to Sunghoon’s. He had shifted his body closer to yours in order to form a makeshift table so that sharing pastries wouldn’t result in crumbs on the floor. You can feel Heeseung's gaze on your kneecap and it makes your face flush. 

Sunoo and Jake offer to throw everybody’s trash away when you’re all done eating. The airport is in full swing by now and everyone has said their graces and apologized to Jay for giving him a hard time with how early they arrived. 

It seems that sleep has threatened to overtake you. You’re waiting in line to scan your plane ticket and board the aircraft, but the sudden warmth of the airport has caused you to yawn a few too many times. Riki’s standing in front of you and his height makes for a perfect makeshift wall to lean on. Or, that’s what your tired brain is telling you, because you slouch forward and let your cheek rest against his back as you close your eyes. 

“Sleepy girl,” you hear him chuckle. You merely nod in acknowledgement. 

Your comfort is short lived when he softly nudges you because the line has moved. Soon, you scan your ticket and give the airline agent a smile as thanks before waiting to set foot on the aircraft. 

Sunghoon notices your dropped shoulders and wordlessly takes your backpack off of you. 

“You don’t need to do that,” you say with a frown when you see Sunghoon carrying your belongings with him. 

“Let me hold it,” says Sunghoon. “You look like you’re about to fall over with the extra weight.” 

“If you insist.”

“Let us take care of you, yeah?” Jay interrupts, bumps his shoulder with yours. “You’ve been running all over Europe these past four years and we’ve only seen you a handful of times. You deserve to relax on this trip.” 

“I can’t believe you guys are being so sweet on me. I know that’s ending the second we get back to Korea.” 

The two boys laugh. “Well, it’s only fair, I guess. You’re like, the mom friend.”

“Jay is the mom friend.” The aforementioned doesn’t argue. 

The squeeze of the aircraft is tight and you’re desperately trying to look for your seat. It seems that Sunghoon is sitting in your row, which excites you, but you’ve come to realize that you’ve obtained the ungodly middle seat. You make peace with it for a brief moment before Heeseung clears his throat awkwardly.

“Let’s switch seats,” he says from behind you. His ticket shows the window seat right next to yours. “I know you hate middle seats.” 

“No, I couldn’t ask that of you.” 

“You’re not asking.” He says it with a smile and it makes you cower into yourself. “You should move to your new seat so we don’t hold up the line.” 

Heeseung suggests it in a way that is reminiscent of the days where he’d give up his sweet treats because you wanted a taste. It tugs at your heartstrings but you don’t have time to think about that when you notice how the plane is starting to fill up. 

Reluctantly, you slide into the window seat while Heeseung and Sunghoon follow suit. Your seat belts are buckled and in no time, the aircraft takes flight. 

For the next hour, Heeseung looks like he wants to say something to you. The headphones you've brought do well to cancel out the noise, for the most part. You can see from the corner of your eye that he glances at you from time to time, but you ignore it and choose to get comfortable for the long haul. 

When you notice the flight attendants come with the beverage cart, you take it as a cue to get comfortable and try to get some sleep for the next few hours. Likely due to the lack of sleep from the night prior, you fall asleep as soon as your head rests against the plane.

You don’t hear Heeseung requesting an extra bottle of water for you.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

When you come to, you’re barely able to register that it’s time to eat the first meal on the flight. You take your headphones off and put it in your backpack as you blink the sleep out of your eyes. 

“Chicken or beef?” 

Heeseung looks at you, expecting an answer.

“Hm?”

He laughs softly. “Chicken or beef?” 

Your eyes dart between him and the flight attendants when you realize they’re about to approach.

“I heard them asking people which meal they want,” Heeseung explains. “So, chicken or beef?”

“Beef.” You clear your throat. 

“Beef it is.”

Sunghoon requests chicken when the flight attendant arrives. Heeseung orders beef for the both of you before you get the chance. If he notices you looking at him strangely, he doesn’t comment on it. 

The food comes quicker than expected and the meal tastes decent, though you’re trying your best not to elbow Heeseung as you cut away at your portion. He seems engrossed in the movie in front of him while you peek at what he’s watching—Iron Man, to no one’s shock. 

You soften a bit at the nostalgia that comes with Heeseung and Marvel, namely the rainy days in your youth spent marathoning the superhero movies. There had been one year in high school when he’d dressed up as Tony Stark and you as Pepper Potts despite a few girls your age whispering behind your back at the matching costumes out of jealousy. You don’t think you can think of the franchise without thinking of Heeseung. 

The memories almost bring a smile to your face. Heeseung seems to notice you glancing at his screen in between bites. You avoid eye contact when you realize he caught you staring and focus on cutting your meal, praying that Heeseung will stop looking at you and watch the movie instead. 

But he takes one earbud out and holds it to you. 

“Do you want to watch it with me?” He’s halfway through. You tell him such but he doesn’t care. 

“I don’t want to jump in halfway through.” 

“Come on, it’s not like you haven’t done that before.” 

Heeseung says it with such nonchalance that it makes your stomach drop. He sees the way your eyes falter for a moment and the way you glance between his hand and the screen. You try to come up with excuses to refuse his offer, but you’ve got eight more hours until you land.

“Sure,” you settle. Heeseung gives you one headphone and resumes watching.

Between the meals being picked up and tray tables being put away, you manage to fall asleep in your seat. Sunoo sits in front of you and upon coming back from a quick bathroom trip, sees your head resting on Heeseung’s shoulder with his cheek propped on your head. The two of you are fast asleep despite the credits rolling and he can’t help but snap a quick photo. 

You wake up some hours later when Sunghoon says your name. The cabin lights turning on temporarily blinds your vision as you wake up when you realize you’d managed to push yourself back enough to rest yourself against Heeseung’s arm. 

“Oh God,” you say in shock, pulling yourself and the seat upright. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

“It’s okay,” he replies, like he means it. “Sleeping on planes is uncomfortable. But I know you know that.” 

You nod. “Yeah. It's too hard to get comfortable.”

“I can’t believe we’re spending two weeks in Europe. I’ve never been outside of Korea and Japan before. You’ll have to help me with my English.”

“Jay or Jake can also help with that.” You say it with a yawn and Heeseung’s eyes cast to the floor for a brief moment. You barely notice, gathering your own belongings as the flight descends. 

“Yeah, I guess they can.” 

When you land, the familiar disorientation of the time difference truly wakes you up. It’s eleven in the morning when the plane door finally opens and Jay’s moving a step ahead of you as he occupies space in the aisle way to grab his belongings. You follow suit and wait for your turn to exit amongst your friends and other travel goers.

Stepping out of the plane and into the familiar terrain of the Heathrow Airport reignites your attentiveness and you smile at the fond memories of being greeted by your university friends upon arriving. The familiar atmosphere of English travelers milling around the gate warms your chest with nostalgia. 

You wait for the boys to emerge before signaling Jay, who follows beside you as you walk towards the baggage claim area. You lead him with little trouble down the escalator as the rest of your friends follow suit, yawning in an attempt to wake themselves up. 

“It’s weird seeing you in your element,” Jay comments as he stands beside you, periodically checking the turnstile for his luggage. “A good kind of weird.” 

“This airport might as well be my second home,” you tell him. “It feels routine to wait for my luggage at this point.”

“I’m tempted to sleep when we get to the hotel but I don’t want to mess up my sleep schedule more than it already is.” Jay pulls his luggage. 

“Yeah, that’s smart. I think we should take an hour to freshen up and find a place to eat before we go exploring.”

“I can already hear Jake whining about it.” 

The two of you share a laugh. “He’ll just have to get used to it. We can have an early night and rest up before we explore tomorrow.” 

“He slept on the plane, for the most part,” Jay informs. “Surprisingly, he didn’t snore as loudly as he usually does.” He spots your luggage and takes it off of the belt for you. 

On the other side of the carousel, Heeseung and Sunoo are standing together to find their own luggages. 

“You guys looked pretty cozy,” Sunoo comments. “It was nice seeing you two like that again.”

“It felt nice,” he mutters. “I really missed her.” 

Heeseung doesn’t have to tell Sunoo what happened between the two of you for him to know that you two aren’t as close as you used to be. The older boy feels nearly ashamed that his own friends have caught up on his awkward demeanor.

“Well, she’s back for good and we’re here on vacation. Try not to dwell on whatever it is that’s making you think too hard.”

Heeeung laughs. “I’ll try, Sunoo. It’s just hard when we’re not as close. How can I compete when we’re in her college town and how will I talk to her in Paris?”

“Well, you never know,” Sunoo says as he picks up his luggage. “Anything can happen in the City of Love.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The hotel itself is modest in size. Quaint, old cobblestone surrounding the entryway like you remember it. The people are busy walking in and out of the meeting rooms in the lobby as you walk to the concierge to sort out the rooming situation. Jay stands beside to help distribute the keys and the employee behind the desk bids you a good stay. 

The view from the fifth floor is spectacular already. You catch glimpses of the streets of London below you, street lights decorating the sidewalk and flowers surrounding the city. This feels like the London you remember and it adds a slight pep in your step. 

“Alright, it’s decided that three of you are gonna share,” you say as you reach the first room. “The other four will be split into two rooms and I’ll get a room for myself.”

“That’s not fair,” Jake huffs. 

“I refuse to share a room with any of you.” You pocket the key to the single bedroom. “Plus, Jay’s mom helped me make the arrangements when we planned the trip.”

“Favoritism,” Jake coughs. You nudge his side.

“To make it fair, everyone will pick up a key card without knowing the room number and flip it. That’ll determine who you room with.”

“Alright,” Jungwon says. “Fair enough.”

One by one, your friends pick their key cards and discover their roommates. Jake, Sunoo, and Riki are the unlucky three who will be rooming together for the duration of the week. Jay and Sunghoon are in the room directly across from theirs while Heeseung and Jungwon share a room. 

“Let’s meet at the lobby in an hour,” Jay suggests. “We can get some lunch and do some exploring before deciding on dinner.”

“We can take it easy and sleep early tonight,” you add in. “I know that flying internationally is always a bitch and I try to time my sleep when I need to.”

The eight of you part ways. Your suite has a beautiful view of the sky and the room itself makes you feel like the main character of a romance film. The bed is just to your liking with pillows stacked to the nines. It feels nice to have a moment to yourself. With your friend Yunjin backing out of the trip at the last minute due to family conflicts, you hadn’t had time to think about anything other than arriving at the hotel safely. 

You busy yourself with a shower and freshen up, pulling out options for you to wear for the rest of the night. You settle with something stylish yet comfortable and put enough makeup on your face until you’re satisfied with the person staring back at you in the bathroom mirror. 

True to your word, you enter the lobby when you said you would. Jay and Sunghoon are already downstairs by the seats. Sunghoon stands to offer you the loveseat but you decline politely and sift through your phone until the rest of the guys arrive. 

When they do, it’s like all eight of you collectively agree that hunger has overtaken you. You know of a nearby cafe that serves sandwiches from your days in university. You lead them to the quaint restaurant that has your friends staring at the art on the walls as you greet the cashier and order. 

It’s a slow moment for the eight of you as you all eat in relative silence, the sound of quiet slurping audible from the coffees everyone has chosen to drink. 

“Did you spend a lot of time here?” Jungwon asks. 

“Around the area, yeah,” you say, looking around. The outdoor seating area is just towards the edge of the street with the weather being a cool, cloudy day. “I loved coming to cafe’s like these with my friends after class. We’d study until they kicked us out and then go for a drink or two.” 

“We should go to a pub while we’re here,” Jake suggests. “I’ve always wanted to see an English pub. We have a few back in Australia.” 

“I know just the place! My friend’s brother owns it and they know I’ll be in town for the next week. It would be nice to catch up with them.” 

“Hopefully your friends here kept you out of trouble,” Sunghoon teases. You flick him with your fingers. 

“I’m the most responsible one out of you seven and don’t you forget that.” 

“Do you miss being here now that you’re back?” Riki asks in between sandwich bites. “God, I love London already.” 

“You’re going to choke if you don’t slow down.” He apologies and takes a single bite. “Well, I think I miss my friends a lot. I don’t necessarily miss being in university, but I miss the freedoms that come with it.”

“I still can’t believe you spent four years of your life here,” Sunghoon says. “That’s insane when you think about how you cried when your aunt took you to Tokyo for a week when you were in middle school.”

The boys laugh and you frown. “I was twelve, okay? You wound me. But yeah, I think I grew out of my shell in high school and had this urge to travel but didn’t know how to do it. I was surprised when my parents encouraged me to apply to King’s College, even more so when I got accepted.”

“You’ve always been too good to stay in one place for too long,” Jake says. “We got close until halfway through our first year of high school, I think. I always got the sense that you wanted more than what our hometown could offer.” 

“I always wanted to move to the heart of Seoul eventually. But I think I needed to come here in order to figure that out.”

“Would you really have stayed in London if you had the chance?” 

You avoid looking at Heeseung, whose attention averted from his phone to you. 

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. “But what I do know is that I’m happy to be back in Korea and I’m happy to be traveling to Europe.” 

“You always did have that sense of adventure,” Heeseung says. “I remember you were the one who always got us in trouble when we explored a little too far.” 

“Your mom was pissed that time I walked a little too far down the shoreline when we went to Jeju.” The memory feels warm despite your discomfort at having Heeseung’s eyes on you. “I didn’t know who she wanted to kill more, me or you.”

“Definitely me. You could do no wrong in her eyes.”

“What happened?” Sunoo asks. 

“My family and Heeseung’s took a trip to Jeju Island when we were around seven, if I remember correctly. I’d taken swimming lessons and thought I could show off my new skills at the beach we were at, but there was a wave that was a bit too much for me to handle.”

“She was nearly swallowed by the ocean.” Heeseung hits his knee with his palm as he recalls the memory. “I mean, I was seven and it seemed like the wave was gigantic but to my mom, it must’ve been just tall enough that she could see over it.”

“She yelled at him for the rest of the night because she had to pull me out from under the water,” you add. “I was fine. My parents laughed it off but his mom was so pissed at him for not telling me to come back to the shore.”

Echoes of laughter fill the space. It feels nice to be able to laugh like this with Heeseung, temporarily forgetting why you were so awkward around him in the first place. 

When the check is paid, you lead the group around the area. Sunghoon takes out his camera and captures everything that inspires him while Sunoo and Riki are off to explore the shops around. It brings warmth to your chest to see your friends enthusiastically exploring the space you once called home. It had been a dream of yours since Jay came to visit and let you drag him around town for the day. Having them with you feels like you’re healing a part of yourself. 

You duck into the quiet bookstore you used to frequent while you were a student. Filled with novels and trinkets from floor to ceiling, it feels familiar to you. 

You get lost in thought when you glance at the books in front of you and you don’t notice Heeseung approaching. 

“Still love books?” 

“Jesus,” you gasp, clutching your chest. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he laughs. “Seems like you still scare easily.” You hate that he knows you so well. Clearing your throat, you put the book back. 

“Yes, to both. I used to come to this bookstore a lot when I had free time.” 

He looks around. “It looks like a nice place.”

“They have a reading nook in the back. The owner is this sweet older woman who was the first person to help me with my English when I first moved. I think she let me read books for free because I used to bring her sweets.”

“That sounds like something you’d do.” You cast your eyes to the floor. “It’s crazy that there’s parts of you that I don’t know.” 

“Yeah,” you mumble solemnly. Heeseung’s eyes bore into the side of your face as you pretend to look at the titles of the books. 

“Do you talk to your college friends often?” 

“All the time. My closest friends live all over the place. Two of them are from the area, one went to live in the States, and a few live in Busan.”

“I’ll bet it was nice to have some Korean friends when you moved. I remember you used call me to tell me about your first semester here.” 

You can’t help but think about the first few months after you moved when you would call Heeseung for a bit of comfort when things felt too overwhelming. With Korea being nine hours ahead, you always felt a little too bothersome phoning when it was the middle of the night for him, not used to the time difference. But he always answered you or called back when he had the chance. 

You’d spend hours on the phone, talking to him about how difficult it was to learn English and how making friends was not as easy as you thought it would be. Navigating the city felt lonely and isolating because you’d barely made friends in your classes in the first few weeks. Heeseung was there through all of it, reminding you that being eighteen years old in a new country made you brave despite feeling like you were a failure for not grasping a hold on life like you thought you would. 

Falling asleep on the phone with him became a routine, too. Whether it was you who fell asleep after a long day or Heeseung, who had stayed up listening to your worries, the sound of his breathing made it feel like you were back home in Korea instead of exploring a grand new world. 

Soon enough, you could talk your way around and piece together conversations with your classmates until you’d found friends who shared similar interests. Heeseung was the first person you told and the first person to tell you how proud he was that you extended your roots to learn about yourself away from home. You always thrived off of his praise as if making him proud was something you never sought out to do, but appreciated when it happened.

But that was four years ago. Whatever friendship you had with him then is not the one you have with him now. 

“It was nice,” you settle. “I miss my college friends. You might get to meet some later in the week.” 

“Nice,” he mutters to himself when you walk past him. “That’s really nice.” 

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The rest of the week is spent in your old stomping grounds, from touring your campus, to shopping, to sightseeing. The eight of you split up more often than not to explore different areas based on mutual interest. You find that Heeseung tends to gravitate towards you and you aren’t sure if it’s because he feels guilty for rejecting you or because he genuinely wants to explore what you want to do. 

Still though, at least one other person joins you. It feels nice to have a buffer to avoid any awkward conversation or moments, especially when Heeseung trips over his words trying to talk to you. 

The week goes by too quickly for your liking. Spending time in London has felt like coming back home, in a way. You’ll always have your memories here and this city will remain the same when you return in the future. Now, it no longer feels like the place you escape too because things got too hard back home. 

Even with Heeseung next to you more often than not, you’ve found a happy medium The awkwardness dissipates when you set aside your indifference to show everybody your favorite places, watching them explore the city for themselves. 

As expected, Riki and Jake have spent a little too much on clothing with the hopes that they can fit it into their luggage on the way back. It fits miraculously. 

Your friend Leo, the one whose brother owns the pub you used to frequent, tells you he’s excited to see you after all these months. It’s a Friday night when you arrive, seeing it well populated. But it’s rather early in the evening before the rush hour, so you enjoy the relative quietness before people rush in. 

Heeseung, on the other hand, has been in a stupor for the latter half of the week. It began when he managed to talk to you in the bookstore, but blossomed when he watched you navigate your way around the city. You barely looked at your phone for directions and had no problem switching to English when you greeted shop owners. Hearing you speak fluently in a language you once struggled with in your childhood made him feel somewhat removed from your life. The two of you used to joke that he was always better with English. Now, the tables have turned. 

The fear that you’d told your school friends about what transpired between the two of you plants itself in the back of Heeseung’s mind. He worries that your friends won’t like him and that you’ve scorned his name, but he chides himself just as much as he worries because he knows you and how deeply you care about people. 

Heeseung wishes he could go back in time to change what happened. He wishes that he’d admit his mistake and confess to you before you left. It had taken him a long time to confront his own feelings, but seeing you back in Korea made him realize he didn’t care if the relationship was long distance or not. He didn’t care as long as you were in his life. 

The months spent apart without phone calls or texts were agony. He loathed hearing what you were up to from your mutual friends or when he accidentally watched your Instagram stories. Seeing you happy without him made his heart lurch, not out of possessiveness, but because he wished you were comfortable enough to share those moments with him. 

To boil it down, Heeseung hopes this trip can undo a year’s worth of his ignorance. 

But before he can think about that, your exclamation pulls him towards a strange man before you. 

“Leo!” 

The sheer volume of your voice doesn’t go unnoticed by Heeseung, who eyes the bloke the second you make a dash for him. His heart winces when your arms wrap around the stranger’s neck and as he spins you around, squeezing you for good measure. He isn’t pleased when Leo settles to let his arm rest around your waist instead of letting you go. He’s even less so when you don’t attempt to separate yourself from him. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” Leo says with a boyish grin, accent making Heeseung nearly roll his eyes. 

“This is Leo.” You let your head rest on his shoulder for a brief moment. “He’s one of my friends from university. I think we met in, what, second year?” 

“Second year, auditing class with Professor Donahue on Mondays and Wednesdays,” he says. “God, that class was so boring.” 

“He’s the friend whose brother owns the bar,” you explain to them. You introduce Leo to each friend respectively. “Jay and Jake are my friends who are fluent in English.” 

“You can speak it and understand it as well, right?” Leo asks as he shakes Heeseung’s hand.

He nods while giving him a tight smile. “Just a little. I’m practicing.” 

“Nah, you sound perfect already.”

Heeseung feels indifferent to see you in your element with people from your past. The bartender, who is Leo’s brother, tells you the first two rounds are on the house after he checks IDs. Riki and Jungwon are excited to have their first pub experience after you make them promise to take it slow and drink lots of water in between. 

“It’s a bit weird seeing her be like that,” Leo says to Jay with a laugh. “When we first got to know each other, it was me who had to tell her to watch how much she drank.”

“Y/N, drinking?” Jake asks. “No way. Back in Korea, she got drunk maybe twice a year.” 

“She and a mutual friend, Elizabeth, were as thick as thieves. They were like a package deal before we all graduated and until she moved to the States. They’d always go a little too hard after exam season was over or if people invited them out on a Saturday night.”

“Y/N’s always been the responsible one out of the bunch,” Jay adds. “In high school, there was one time she got so drunk that she nearly scaled the roof of my friend’s house. Heeseung nearly fell off trying to get her down. After that, she swore off alcohol.” 

Heeseung makes a few comments in the conversation as he watches you catch up with Leo’s brother and as you facilitate conversation between the rest of the guys. There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he realizes there’s a lot he doesn’t know about you. 

The two of you talked less as you became more comfortable in your environment. At first, Heeseung took it to heart and made the assumption that you’d chosen your friends in England over him, but a stern conversation with his mother made him realize he was being juvenile. He could only comfort you so much when he was oceans away. It was probably a good thing that you were talking to him less because that must’ve meant you were as overwhelmed or scared like you were when you first moved to England. 

You’d still call him a few times a week before bed–when Heeseung was getting ready for the day–to update him on everything that happened in the past week. You two texted more frequently than you conversed, sending him pictures of new places you’d discovered or him sending photos of your mutual friends with sad faces at the notion of you not being able to be there with them. 

Heeseung had always felt a bit jealous of your time abroad. He loved Korea, but he yearned for the same sense of adventure you once had. Only, he hadn’t figured it out until halfway through university when it was too late to transfer or apply for a semester abroad. When Jay had proposed this trip and that his father would expense half of it, he jumped at the opportunity to go. 

Although, he didn’t know it would hurt him this much.

Hearing you talk about your life here made him feel like it was his fault that he barely knew your life in England. It was so easy when the two of you lived a few blocks from each other; he’d run into you with your other friends on the street or know exactly where you were likely to be at any given moment. He knew you felt the same way about him too, as you always knew where to find him if you really needed him. 

But it feels like this is the first time he’s seeing you for who you are as an adult, not the child that he grew up with. 

Surely, Heeseung always knew you had a good head on your shoulders. You were always the more outspoken one who stood up for what you believed in, no matter how big or small. You never backed down if someone was giving you a hard time and it was one of the reasons why Heeseung had struck up a conversation with you as you two played in the sandbox after a few kids had stolen the toys he was playing with. That sense of responsibility and gratuity followed you into your adolescent and teenage years, too. Not once had Heeseung heard anyone say a bad word about your character. He’d like to think he had something to do with it, but deep down, Heeseung knows it was all you. 

When you confessed nearly a year ago, Heeseung felt like his heart might’ve ceased to function properly. Truth be told, he’s never taken his daydreams about being your boyfriend too seriously. He always wondered if it was normal to develop small crushes on your girl-friends at a young age and wondered if those butterflies in his stomach was because of how often his other friends at school would playfully tease him until they stopped. Jake and Sunghoon had been people who teased him for having a girl as his best friend until they befriended you too, and Heeseung was satisfied when they stopped with their comments. They, too, could understand why Heeseung was so keen on keeping you around. 

But the butterflies never quite left him. Your smile was too bright. Your voice was too angelic. Everything about you and how you fit into his life felt a little too perfect; Heeseung hated cliches in his youth and this felt like one big cliche joke. He knew his mother didn’t approve of the girls she’d see him with, even in college when he got into his first serious relationship. She wasn’t as enthusiastic about her as she was with you. At the time, the frustration seemed too biased until it ended in a way that made Heeseung realize his mother truly knew what was best for him.

Heeseung never considered the possibility of dating you until you confessed your feelings for him. 

As much as he plays off being the spontaneous, go-with-the-flow type of person, Heeseung gets scared when things go unplanned. He backs away from courage and from moments that make or break his character. He likes to play it safe unless he can make a calculated risk in his favor, choosing to let others fall flat on their face and learn from their mistakes. Heeseung had never considered the possibility of you having feelings for him either. That fateful summer night is one he will always remember, especially in the way the light in your eyes dimmed when he told you he didn’t feel the same. 

He remembers your quick apologies and the way you backed away too quickly for his liking. He had tried to reach for your hand to tell you it was okay and that he didn’t feel awkward about it, but you’d shook your head and merely told him you’d see him later. Heeseung had never seen you leave so abruptly. But he figured you’d get over it, as you typically do when things don’t go your way. You’re resilient like that.

Heeseung assumed you needed time to heal from the awkward encounter and hadn’t reached out to you for a week. He didn’t think much of it at the time and hadn’t made plans with you until he realized you’d be leaving for Europe the week following. By then, it had been too late, because he stopped by your house the morning after you left. 

Getting together with Seulgi after you left felt too easy. He knew she’d always had a thing for him but brushed her off for reasons he couldn’t fathom until he bumped into her a few weeks after you’d left without so much as a text or a voicemail. Feeling a bit irritated at your wordless departure, Heeseung took Seulgi out on a few days to take his mind off of you.

Except, it didn’t work. Heeseung found himself fantasizing about what it would be like to go out to dinner with you when she was sitting in front of him. When she’d texted him to thank him for his time, Heeseung imagined the kind of things you would say after your first date. When he kissed her for the first time underneath the twinkling lights of a local fair, Heeseung pictured you as he closed his eyes. The fantasy was ruined when Seulgi’s perfume touched his olfactory senses, pulling him back into reality. The guilt of kissing somebody who wasn’t you ate at his chest the moment he saw Seulgi smile at him from where he stood. 

He tried his best with her but broke it off when the unrest overtook his mental wellbeing. It was amicable, for the most part. All Heeseung knows is that his parents (along with all of his friends) were happy that he hadn’t continued with that relationship.

“Y/N used to talk a lot about you, Heeseung,” Leo says, bringing the aforementioned out of his thoughts. “We’d be out at dinner or something and she’d always run outside to answer your calls.”

“Really?” Heeseung says out of surprise. He didn’t know you did that. 

“You bet,” Leo replies. “She talked a lot about Korea when we’d hang out with our friends but she seemed to talk about you the most.” 

Heeseung wonders if you told him about what happened between the two of you the summer before you left. 

“I’m flattered.” Heeseung honestly doesn’t know what else to say. He chooses to tell the truth. “I missed her a lot. I grew up with her living a few blocks away. It felt weird not to be with her when I went to college.” 

“Y/N said the same thing. Every time she’d be homesick, she’d tell us she needed to call you.” Leo’s words bring a warm flush to Heeseung’s face but he chooses to blame it on the alcohol. 

“I heard my name,” you say as you walk to where they’re sitting. “Not talking shit about me, my dear Leo?”

“Never,” he teases. “Although, I’m sure I still have some pretty photos of you and Elizabeth at this very pub.”

“Oh God, please don’t.” You push his shoulder when he moves to reach his phone. “Those do not need to see the light of day and you definitely need to delete them.”

“How else am I going to blackmail you?” 

“You’re the worst.” You look cute when your nose is a bit red from drinking. You always did suffer from redness to the face when you drank. “I can’t believe Elizabeth and I let you into our friend group.”

“Hey! I was the one who introduced you to her in the first place.”

“I’ll bet if I texted her right now, I’d have it in writing that she’d choose me over you.”

“Okay, you don’t need to do that because she definitely would.” 

The group laughs and conversations flow nicely as a few other friends from your university days join you later in the evening. It feels like a reunion, of sorts. It feels especially wonderful to have most of your favorite people under one roof despite the slight language barrier. But everyone seems to get along well enough, especially Riki, who has taken a liking to your Japanese friend you met on your first day of orientation. 

When the room gets too hot, you make your way outside where you’re fenced in by a metal barricade. It’s cold outside, but the alcohol running through your veins keeps you warm enough that you decide not to go back to ask for a jacket. Heeseung wants to follow you but stays still in his seat when he sees Sunghoon exit the door after you leave. 

The wine in your hands is still halfway full. You’ve decided that you’ve taken the lead far too many times this week and that Jay can handle getting everyone home. It’s your fourth drink of the night, just enough to keep you buzzed for the duration of your time at the pub. 

You register the door sliding open and make room for Sunghoon when you spot him over your shoulder. 

“Your friends are really nice,” he comments, leaning on the railing next to you. 

“They’re the best,” you say with a fond smile. “I owe them a lot. I only started enjoying my time here when we became friends.” 

“You know, I was a little worried that you wouldn’t be happy when you moved to London for the first time.”

“What makes you say that?” 

“I think a lot of people would describe you as brave and as someone who will dive in head first to things that scare you, which is true for the most part. But I think people rarely pay attention to the vulnerable side of people like you because it looks like you have it all together.”

“I was a total wreck when I first moved,” you said. “I don’t know if you remember the few times I called you when Heeseung wasn’t able to pick up.”

“Oh, I remember. That was the first time you cried to me and now you have no issue getting your snot on my sweaters.” You swat his arm at the joke but he dodges you just in time. “I remember Yeji getting worried about you too. She was so young and always said she wanted to be brave like you.”

“Sweet girl,” you say. 

“The two of you are similar. I watch out for her a lot, you know? Our relatives always think she puts on a brave face and don’t think twice when she talks about her fears. They always tell her she’ll be fine, but it’s hard to actualize that when you don’t believe it.”

“I thought about coming home a few times when things got really hard,” you confess. “I was out of my depth because I couldn’t speak English very well. I could only speak fragments and getting my way around campus was so hard.” 

“I don’t know how you did it, if I’m being honest. But I’m glad that you stuck around long enough to see what your life would be like.”

“Me too. I’d really love to think I’ve become a better person now that I’ve gotten the chance to know myself beyond the comfort of my home, you know? I love you guys and I love my family, but sometimes being back in Korea felt like I was listening to what was expected of me instead of what I wanted.”

Sunghoon laughs. “Yeji said the same thing a few weeks before we left for London. Part of me thinks she’s considering studying abroad. I found a few college brochures in her room.”

“Don’t you know better than to snoop inside your sister’s bedroom?”

“Yah,” he says. “Yeji steals too many of my sweaters and she said I could get them back.”

“You’re just too easy to make fun of, Hoonie.” 

A comfortable silence passes over the both of you. The audible sound of people talking amongst themselves and the beautiful lights of the city illuminate what makes London so beautiful. It isn’t until Sunghoon speaks that you pull yourself out of your daydreams.

“I heard you that night,” Sunghoon confesses. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“The night of the bonfire.I know you told Heeseung you liked him.”

You turn your head to him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I figured you’d tell me whenever you felt ready,” he says with a shrug. “You went back to London a couple of weeks later and I wanted to spend time with my friend. There never seemed to be a right time.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and balances from one leg to another. “You looked really sad, Y/N. I’ve never seen you look that way before.” 

There’s a beat of silence. 

Sunghoon listens as you sigh and you push yourself from the railing. Your back touches the cold metal as you look beside yourself to see him. 

“I deluded myself into thinking Heeseung might’ve felt something for me too,” you admit. “It’s not that girls and boys can’t be friends, but towards the end of our friendship, it was like something shifted.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’d…touch me longer. Hugs, pulling me by my waist at parties, lingering near me at Riki’s bonfires, that kind of thing. He started playing with my fingers a lot more. Heeseung never used to touch me like that. He’d interrupt conversation with guys to pull me away. I always knew what he was doing but I liked him so much that I didn’t care if he interrupted a good thing between me and someone else.” 

Sunghoon purses his lips and watches as you look ahead at the glass doors to see your friends laughing. “I noticed that too.”

“When we were alone, it felt like he was one sentence away from telling me he loved me more than a friend. Not that platonic crap that the eight of us tell each other, but the deep shit where that kind of love comes from kindred souls.” 

“Heeseung’s too stupid to see what’s good for him anyway.” Sunghoon pulls a laugh out of you and he’s glad to hear it. 

“But then I confessed to him the night of that bonfire.” You bite your lip at the memory, willing yourself not to tear up. “I mean, you heard him. He told me he didn’t feel the same way and didn’t want to ruin our friendship because it was perfect as it was.”

“And then you heard he’d gotten together with Seulgi.”

“Yeah.” You nod once and look down at your drink. 

“They weren’t together long,” Sunghoon says. “She wanted more but he didn’t want to give that to her. The boys were confused because he seemed to be really happy with her until he broke it off so sudden. I always thought it was because he felt too guilty after rejecting you.”

“What did the guys think?”

“Riki hated her. I have a feeling it was because she wasn’t you, though. I think Sunoo, Jungwon, and Jake were surprised when he’d gotten together with Seulgi after you left and were trying to be nice about it. Jay was indifferent, but then again, you two weren’t as close as you were with the rest of them until he visited you while you were away.”

“Did his opinion change?” 

“Definitely. Heeseung had a period of time in the new year where he went on a couple of dates with her, telling us he might’ve made a mistake by breaking things off too soon.” Sunghoon shakes his head as he tells the story. “Jay was unbelievably pissed.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know how he gets when he’s angry. He’s quiet and doesn’t talk until he’s calm. But it was like a volcano erupted, or something. Jay came back mid January to find out Heeseung had been seeing Seulgi for a couple of weeks and completely lost it on him. He said things about not knowing a good thing if it spat in his face and how he ruined every chance of happiness because of his own doing.” 

“Wow…I didn’t know Jay said that.”

“It was scary. Heeseung tried to fight back and say it was his life and that Jay didn’t have a right to say what he could and couldn’t do, but the poor guy never stood a chance. Jay asked him if he would be happy if you came back to see him dating Seulgi and that shut him up real quick.”

“What do I have to do with it?” you ask. “He rejected me before I left.” 

“I don’t know,” Sunghoon says truthfully. “I always thought that Heeseung was trying to redeem himself through Seulgi. But I guess we’ll never truly know.” 

“It’s been almost a year,” you reminisce. “You’d think I would’ve gotten over him by now after spending time in Europe with, well, other boys.”

“He’s not just any guy who rejected you,” Sunghoon says. He looks out at the street, finding the words to say. “You two had been best friends since before me or the guys got to know either of you. There’s a special kind of bond between people who grew up together, you know?

“I think a large part of you misses being friends with him. Sure, rejection always stings, but it’s knowing that you don’t have your best friend that hurts you more.”

“Jeez,” you chide. “You always know how I feel.”

Sunghoon laughs. “I’m just observant. I know that it’s hard to be on this trip because Heeseung’s trying to be that friend you once knew. He probably feels guilty for giving you the cold shoulder during your first few weeks back in Seoul.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, well he’s not doing a great job showing it. Life would be easier if he left me alone.”

“But do you want that?” 

You cast your eyes to the floor. “No, I don’t.” 

Satisfied with your answer, Sunghoon nods. 

“You know, I knew Heeseung had feelings for you the night we played spin the bottle just before we graduated high school.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hoon. He never liked me.” 

Sunghoon shakes his head. “Do you remember what happened that night?” 

“Vaguely. I remember that being my first time trying alcohol and Jake having to cut me off when I couldn’t walk straight.”

He nods. “When you were sober enough to string a few sentences together, some girl suggested playing spin the bottle. When it was your turn to spin, it landed on me.” 

You make a face. “Ah. I do remember kissing you.” 

“Well you don’t have to look grossed out,” Sunghoon teases. “Everyone knew it was awkward because we’d been friends for like, five years at that point. We were both so flustered that the kiss lasted for maybe two seconds before everyone cheered.

“Heeseung was pissed. I saw him looking at me like I’d killed his family, or something. I swore I could see steam coming out of his ears. He wouldn’t talk to me for a week because I’d been your first kiss.”

“Seriously?” 

“Dead serious.” Sunghoon laughs at the memory. “He wouldn’t answer my texts. In the group chat we were in, he’d acknowledge everyone but me. It wasn’t until a week later when we were all hanging out that I told him there was nothing between us and it was awkward to kiss you in front of our friends.” 

You stand there, dumbfounded. “Huh.”

“I’ve never told anyone that,” he confesses. “I doubt anyone remembers us kissing except for him. I assumed this would be a story I’d tell you and the guys when you both eventually got together.” 

He murmurs an apology. “It’s okay, Hoon. I’m glad you told me. I guess I’m just…confused. Why did he reject me if he allegedly liked me?” 

“I wish I knew. He was miserable when you left and refused to talk about you moving back to Europe for your final year abroad. Heeseung was really sad when he found out you weren’t coming home for Christmas break.” 

“I couldn’t bear to see him. I was so heartbroken and the friends here tonight were consoling me in the way they knew how. I knew I’d be a depressed wreck if I came back home.”

“That makes sense,” Sunghoon affirms for you. “I’m glad you met up with Jay while he was here, though. You got some kind of Christmas gift from home.” 

“Me too. I feel like Jay and I got closer because of it. I knew he could tell something was off but he didn’t say anything about it. Something tells me he knows more than he cares to say.” 

“You know Jay.” You both nod. “More observant and caring than the rest of us. Part of me thinks Heeseung’s jealous of your new friendship with him since the two of you basically planned this whole trip on your own.” 

“Well, Jay has more international travel experience and his dad knows the right people,” you say with a shrug. “I spent four years of my life here. It makes sense.”

“To us, yes. To Heeseung? I think his feelings cloud his judgment.” 

“He never used to confuse me,” you admit. “We used to talk about how much we hated when people made us guess how they felt or what they were thinking. We always said it was unfair if you make people you love, make you guess their intentions. But he’s doing that to me and it’s been driving me insane.

“Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve kept my mouth shut. I watched him date girls in high school. I watched him with what I thought would be his first serious girlfriend during our first year of college before he went through that short hookup phase. God, that hurt me so bad and I couldn’t say anything because it wasn’t my life.” 

“For what it’s worth, I think it was brave of you to confess to him,” Sunghoon tells you. “I don’t say that as a cheap cop out to make you feel better either. You know me, I’m really sentimental about things even if I don’t come off that way. To confess your feelings to someone who you love…one can only hope to hear that someday.” 

You nudge your shoulder with his. “You say that like you didn’t have girls begging for a date.” 

Sunghoon laughs and you know what he means. 

“You’ve always been the bravest of all of us,” he continues. “I think the reason why I wanted to be friends with you when we were kids is because you didn’t take bullshit from people. I was too shy to stand up for myself between my career as a figure skater while trying to be a normal kid. You and Heeseung offered that kind of normalcy. I could see you two in the bleachers at my competitions and then we’d go out for ice cream like it was any other day.” 

“Well, now you’re going to make me cry.” 

“I mean it, Y/N. You’re a great friend and a great person. I hope Heeseung hasn’t fucked things up too bad that you leave his life for good.” 

You shiver. “Me too.” 

“Talk to him,” Sunghoon advises. “Do it before we leave. You’re removed from your life back home.” You open your mouth to refute but he beats you to the chase. “If it doesn’t work out, then you’ll know your answer when you go home and you can resume your life without Heeseung in it.” 

Sunghoon leaves you alone with your thoughts but makes you promise that you’ll join the group soon.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

When you walk back into the pub, Jake clouds your personal space before you can even think about ordering another drink.

“Jesus, Hoon. Couldn’t you have offered Y/N your jacket if you guys were gonna be out that long? Poor girl looks like she’s about to freeze to death.

Jake’s affinity for the dramatic never ceases. Your friends look at your goosebumps and the way you’re acclimating to the warmer temperature inside while Sunghoon merely rolls his eyes.

“I’m fine,” you say. “We only came in because I started to get cold.”

“Let me get my jacket for you,” Heeseung says as he rises from his seat. 

“No.” You’re sure you say it too abruptly, but you can’t bear the thought of wearing his clothes after the conversation you just had. “I’m fine, honestly.” 

“Stop being stubborn and wear a damn jacket,” Leo chides, wrapping his coat around your shoulders. “You have this habit of never bringing one when you need it and it drives me crazy.” 

“But that’s what I have you for, don’t I?” 

As you tug the material closer to your body, Sunghoon watches as Heeseung stares at Leo with a hard expression. 

“Not when you’re back in Seoul, you goof.” Leo takes your empty glass. “I’m glad you have these guys back at home. They seem really good for you.” 

“I love them a lot.” You say it so tenderly with your head tilted as you look at the boys you’d call family, only for them to coo at your clearly vulnerable, inebriated state.

“My mother, my older sister, and best friend,” Riki says with a hiccup as he engulfs you in a hug. “Seriously, I would be dead in a ditch without you.” 

“I don’t know a better person,” Sunoo chimes in from where he’s seated. 

“There was one time where Y/N had this lemon phase where she couldn’t stop drinking lemonade or eating lemon candy,” Jake tells the group. “Now I think of her every time I see something yellow.” 

“That’s kind of fitting though, isn’t it?” Leo asks. “Yellow for sunshine.” 

Everybody agrees and it makes your cheeks and neck warm up. You hide yourself in Leo’s jacket, but God, Heeseung wishes he could hide you in his arms instead. 

Still, he can’t help but agree with Leo. If there’s any truth to his words, it’s that you are made of pure, unfiltered sunshine.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The next morning, all eight of you board the train for a two-hour ride to Paris. For the next five days, you’ll be acting as a tourist rather than tour guide, for the most part. Jay volunteers to take the lead since you did most of the heavy lifting in London. You do, however, chime in to give him a few recommendations from your prior visits to the city. 

Sunghoon’s advice plagues your thoughts, so much so that Jungwon has had to guide you out of the hotel and into the cab before arriving at the train station. Both he and Sunoo look a bit worried about you, but you wave them off and tell them you had one too many to drink. You know they don’t believe you but you’re grateful they don’t press on. 

Paris is much more beautiful than you remember it, and it’s likely due to the fact that you’re here on vacation, not because you wanted a weekend getaway to escape the stress of midterms and exams. The people are just as indifferent as ever. You’re able to practice some of your basic French to order coffee and pastries for everyone. It’s a feat that leaves Heeseung impressed and you try not to acknowledge him when you see his jaw drop. 

The hotel itself is more beautiful than the last. You have the room with the balcony and double doors leading to a breathtaking view of the buildings and streets below. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen, even if the streets are littered with trash and the people are a bit too loud. It still feels charming. 

The rooming situation is the same as London, with you in the single room and the rest of the boys to fend for themselves. This time, Jungwon, Jay, and Sunghoon are sharing the three bedroom with Heeseung and Jake sharing another, and Sunoo and Riki in the other double. The hotel must’ve miscalculated the rooming situation and put your single room at the end of the hallway away from the others, but you aren’t complaining. 

The first few days are filled with happiness and dread, namely when you see Heeseung as you begin your day. He has a knack for making you laugh until you come to the notion that you really shouldn’t be finding his jokes very funny because he doesn’t deserve that kind of reaction from you. 

In fact, he doesn’t deserve your attention after ignoring you for as long as he has. Seeing Leo again brought up memories of crying in his flat with Elizabeth and drinking too much wine to forget the pain temporarily. Your friends invited you to a night spent in the pub after Leo begged his brother to close it for the night so that you could have a free space to drink and talk about Heeseung until your voice gave out. 

Your irritation carries over and Heeseung can tell when you move away from him when he tries to stand next to you. He’s hurt but he tries to understand that you have a right to be, even if he knows in his heart the reasons why he acted the way he did. He just needs to find time to talk to you, even if the conversation doesn’t end the way he hopes it will. 

With two days left on the trip, you’ve eaten your way through the streets of Paris and have done your fair share of shopping. Each of the boys had bought you a small token of their appreciation (Heeseung paid for your latte, Jay purchased a small wallet from Prada, Jake gifted you new sunglasses, Sunghoon a charm for your bracelet, Sunoo a bowl of pasta for lunch, Jungwon a pair of earrings, and Riki a new jacket that looks similar to his from back home). It warms your heart to know you have people who care about you enough to show and tell you. 

The Eiffel Tower calls your name one late afternoon and by the time you all manage to walk up, the sun is setting below the horizon. There are couples around Heeseung who are taking photos left and right, one of which asks him to take a few pictures for them. He can’t help but wish he was in their place, asking a stranger to take a photo of the two of you as he kisses the apple of your cheek. Heeseung snaps a few good ones before the couple thanks him. 

It doesn’t help that you look like a walking goddess. Truth be told, Heeseung wanted to buy you more than just coffee when the boys agreed to each give you something as a token of their gratitude. Heeseung had come up with a list of ideas he wanted advice for, but it was Sunghoon who’d told him to keep it simple for your sake. He was right, as always, because you thanked him with a pleasant smile instead of ignoring him like you had in the days prior. Heeseung gets the feeling that you wouldn’t appreciate a grand gesture from him right now.

He hates that he can’t read you like he used to. He hates that the other friends know you better than he does, and he hates that he’s in the City of Love and he can’t call you his girlfriend. 

Riki and Jungwon are more perceptive than they let on. Heeseung sees the way their eyes dart between the two of you and how they’ve been trying their best to navigate the new dynamic. Riki, especially, hadn’t been receptive of Seulgi the first time Heeseung invited her to a bonfire. Heeseung had overheard the younger boy telling Jungwon it wasn’t the same without you there and that he’d rather go home than spend another minute getting to know someone who wasn’t you. 

At the time, Heeseung was beyond irritated and refused to speak to Riki for the rest of the night. Now, however, he understands why Riki acted the way he did. 

You look so beautiful underneath a Parisian sunset. Heeseung knows he’s staring. He’s grateful that you’re too preoccupied with Sunghoon taking photos of you. But God, he wishes you’d laugh at him like that. 

“You should talk to her,” Jake says from beside him. Heeseung jumps at his sudden appearance. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“I want to.” Heeseung says it out loud for the first time. He wants to work it out with you and get his best friend back in whatever way you’ll allow. “I miss her, Jake. I miss being her friend and I fucked up when I rejected her.” 

Heeseung doesn’t notice Jake’s eyes widen at the sudden admission. Jake had his fair share of theories and considered Heeseung to be his best friend, but even he knew there was a limit about what he was willing to share and what he kept to himself. Heeseung’s friendship with you was something he stopped trying to learn a few years after he got to know you; Heeseung had a soft spot for you and had no problem letting people know that. It wasn’t until you mentioned to Jake that you hadn’t spoken to Heeseung in months that he knew something was up. 

“She clearly cares about you,” Jake says. “She wouldn’t be on this trip if she didn’t.”

“But she’s been ignoring me the past three days. And before you say it, yes, I know that she has a valid reason to, but I’m hurt and I want to make things better.”

“You have to let her take the reins and let her talk to you when she wants to,” Jake advises. “You know how she is. Y/N’s headstrong and she might not know how she feels right now, but she always knows what’s best for her. You’re good for her, Heeseung. Let her come to that conclusion on her own.”

Heeseung relinquishes his breath. “You’re right. I just…miss her. A lot. Things will never go back to the way they used to but I don’t think I want them to. I used to pray every night that I could somehow make everything like it was before that night but now I want more than that. She deserves better and I want to be better for her, not that coward who was too scared to try something new with the person he loves.” 

His friend’s words bring a smile to Jake’s lips. “Well I, for one, believe in you. I think the rest of the guys do too.” 

“I know,” Heeseung says softly with his eyes on you.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

You can’t believe you leave Europe in two days as you sip your wine. Jay’s father was gracious enough to reach out to his friend at the hotel’s restaurant to negotiate having this meal compensated. It’s a gesture you hold onto and make a mental note to write a thoughtful note when you settle back in Korea. Jay sits next to you and partakes in the wine activities with you, namely picking out two different bottles to share with the table. Talking to Jay like this makes you feel otherworldly, like you’ve gotten more experience out of life since you chose to study abroad. You feel lucky, in a sense, that your life has given you more than you expected it too. 

The younger boys head upstairs after dessert and bid you all a goodnight in case they don’t see you before falling asleep. For the next thirty minutes or so, it’s the five of you laughing away at the hotel bar like old times, reminiscing about embarrassing moments from high school or how difficult it was to hear Jake’s Korean when he first moved. 

The Australian leaves as soon as he yawns. Sunghoon, a little too tipsy upon standing from the bar table, presses a gentle kiss to your head when he says goodnight to the rest of you. Jay gives your arm a reassuring squeeze and you understand for the first time that he always knew you better than he let on. He says goodnight and tells the bartender to charge his room whenever you two close the tab. 

Now, you and Heeseung are sitting together, mere inches apart as the Parisian sky twinkles with stars above the two of you. 

Neither of you know what to say. You fidget with the glass and contemplate on whether you should head up as well. Heeseung can sense your awkwardness and wish he hadn’t messed things up so badly that you can’t stand to be alone with him without thinking of an escape plan. He misses when the two of you could sit in complete silence and still feel comfortable around one another. 

“Thank you for showing us around,” he speaks up before you can make the decision to leave. “I remember you talking about all of the places you showed us when you first moved here. I’ve always wanted to visit.” 

“Really?” 

Heeseung nods. “I used to be so jealous that you got the opportunity to travel abroad every time you talked about it. But I think I like it better this way, with you as the tour guide.” 

That brings a laugh out of you and Heeseung can’t help but smile. He doesn’t care if it’s the alcohol allowing your walls to come down. He’s grateful for the chance. 

“I used to write down places I wanted to show you,” you confess. “There were so many places that reminded me of where we’d used to hang out as kids. It always felt like there was a part of you with me.” 

His heart melts. “I wish I could’ve visited you while you were here. Your friends seem pretty cool.” 

“They are.” Heeseung watches you smile. “They’ve been with me through a lot and helped me get over this fear of failing in a different country. My friend Suki, who now lives in Tokyo, was the first person to really get me out of my shell and convinced me to go out. Awkward Y/N? Going to clubs?” 

“You know how to dance, though. I bet you killed it.” 

“A little too much, perhaps. I didn’t date or hook up much, but there were a few times that I did.” Heeseung’s heart begins to sink as does his hope. This is not where he wanted to lead the conversation but his ears perk up at your next point. “But I wasn’t happy doing that so I stopped making out with random guys on the dance floor.”

“If only thirteen-year-old you could see you then,” he teases. You bump his shoulders with yours and he feels electricity running down his arm. 

“I think I did a good job adjusting and learning. There were times where I felt like I didn’t know what I was doing with my life because I couldn’t decide if I wanted to stay in London or go back to Seoul. That burden felt too much.” 

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you came back home.” 

Your head whips to look at Heeseung, who can only sit and watch as your eyes begin to water. 

“Why didn’t you say anything when I texted and called you?” you ask meekly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why didn’t you see me when I came back?” 

“I know.” He gulps. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so, so sorry.” 

You sniffle and Heeseung wants to cry too. “Everyone came to pick me up at the airport. I kept looking for you but you weren’t there. Jake had to pull me away from baggage claim because he said you weren’t coming but I didn’t listen. I told him he was wrong. You always come.” 

Heeseung’s soul breaks with every crack in your voice and with the way your lips quiver. He sees your mascara beginning to smudge and resists the urge to wipe it away so that your eyes may look fresh and dry. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I have no excuse.” 

“I wanted my best friend but you never showed up for me. You didn’t call or text me when you knew I was home and I had to wait until Riki’s bonfire to see you.”

“I was an idiot and stupid,” is the only answer Heeseung can come up with. “I used to be so scared of change. You left the country and I had to start thinking about what I wanted to do with my life but it was so hard without you in it.”

“Then why did you leave me?” 

His heart shatters. 

You’ve turned away from him in an attempt to walk back to your hotel room. However, Heeseung has learned his lesson. He doesn’t let you stray too far and gently tugs your wrist to pull you into his chest and is surprised when you don’t fight him off of you.

He doesn't care that your tears have stained his shirt or that you’re hiccupping into his clothes. All Heeseung wants to do is let you know he’s here for you now, despite his past mistakes and clouded judgment. Heeseung loves you for your bravery and vulnerability. He can only hope you understand that. 

“Let’s go to your room, yeah? I can help you take your makeup off.”

Whether from the alcohol or your need to be near Heeseung, you let him guide you to the elevator. He digs in your purse for your room key and coaxes you to sit in the bathroom while he locks the door. This routine feels a bit familiar; in his youth, he learned how you like to take your makeup off and get ready for bed after a particularly rough night drinking. He could never understand why he hadn’t minded taking the extra step and to keep himself sober when you were in the vicinity, but he understands it now. 

Heeseung meets you in the bathroom and washes his hands before putting your hair in a ponytail. He bites his lips when he sees your fresh tears and mutters another apology, forcing himself not to wipe away the tears with his fingers. Instead, he lets you blot them with a tissue before gathering makeup remover in his hands and gently smears it all over your skin. 

“I didn’t like change,” he says after a quiet beat. “I was too cowardly to take what I wanted, even if the person I wanted said they wanted me too. I don’t know why I didn’t chase after you that night or why I thought you needed space before you left. I don’t have an explanation for any of it except to say that I was a coward who never wanted anything to change between us.” 

Heeseung warms a wet cloth and wipes the balm away until he’s satisfied and moves on with your favorite cleanser, rubbing it between his hands until it foams. 

“I think, deep down, I’ve always loved you more than I led on. I can’t think of any moment in my life where you weren’t there or times that I didn’t want you around. Even when we were in elementary school and everyone kept saying we would get cooties from each other, I wanted you with me.” 

He lets you wash your face and applies the rest of your products on as you once taught him. 

“I’ve always had this sense of pride when it came to being your friend. Everyone always talked about how cool you were because you always knew what to say and when to say it. I love that about you, you know. You have a way of making people feel like they’re really special. I don’t know why I was so afraid of that.

“I love who you are and what you believe in. You make the world a better place for everyone around you. How you treated me was a small fraction of why I love you. I love your passions and that you aren’t afraid to chase after them. I love that you stick with the same boba order even though you tell yourself you’ll try something new. I love that you hate the beach but go with us every time we ask. I love when you get a little drunk because you don’t fight me when I want to take care of you.”

Heeseung swallows. “But mostly, I just really love you.”

You open your eyes for the first time. Heeseung can only stare. 

“You really hurt me.” 

He glances down. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

“What hurt the most was knowing you weren’t going to be there as my best friend, Heeseung. I could handle your rejection. I could find a way to get over you. But I could never get over losing our friendship. I never wanted you out of my life because it’s better with you in it.” 

“Please don’t get over me,” Heeseung croaks. His own eyes begin to swell and he forces a choked sob down his throat, aggressively wiping his eyes to rid himself of tears. He presses his forehead against yours. “I don’t want you to get over me.” 

You don’t say anything for a few moments. Heeseung swears he feels the blood rushing to his ears as he anticipates your response and he’s sure that even if what you say isn’t what he wants to hear, he’s happy to wear his feelings on his sleeve for once in his life.

“I don’t think I could even if I tried.” 

Heeseung’s heart stops beating. He doesn’t kiss you even though he wants to. He doesn’t take your hand and pull you into him like his heart tells him to. Instead, he whispers a quiet thanks and is surprised when he hears you laugh. 

“I can’t apologize enough. I don’t want to make you feel like you have to do or say anything.” 

“I know,” you whisper. Heeseung's hands are dangling awkwardly by his side. He feels like pushing his forehead against yours was too much. But your hands reach for him and you give him a squeeze.  

Heeseung throws caution out of the window and envelopes you in a hug. He feels your body melt against his and can’t help but look at the way you’ve folded into his chest in the bathroom mirror, with your head in his neck and his cheek on the crown of your head. Heeseung missed holding you like this–with your bodies intertwined as if you were two soulmates who were forced apart upon creation. 

He stroked your back with his hand and kept the other secured around your waist. Your soft breaths touch his skin and it feels like he’s got electricity running through his veins. 

“I’m sorry,” Heeseung whispers again. “I will keep apologizing until you know the depth of my regret.” 

The boy feels like he’s floating when you press a soft kiss to his exposed chest, mentally thanking Jake for forcing him to let loose and unbutton a few. 

“You could start by staying with me until I fall asleep,” you say. “Like old times.” 

He tries not to punch the air. “I can do that.” 

Heeseung waits in the bathroom until you’ve changed into comfortable clothing. He isn’t surprised when he sees you in shorts and an oversized shirt. It’s reminiscent of what you used to wear when you’d sleep in the guest bedroom in his house or vice versa, but now that he’s acknowledged his feelings for you, he can’t help but coo at how cute and sleepy you look. 

You tuck yourself in bed with the blankets to your chin and he completely melts to the floor. You pat the spot next to him and he sits on top of the blankets. 

“Under the covers, silly.” 

“I don’t want to rush it,” Heeseung says in a panic. 

“We aren’t rushing. We’re two best friends who got each other back.” 

Heeseung has never been more relieved. Though, he knows you’re a stickler for outside clothes in bed, so he makes the decision to take your key card and change.

“I’m not leaving you,” he says when he notices you rise from your spot on the bed. He holds two key cards to prove it and leans over to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “I’m going to change and then I’ll be right back. I promise.” 

He comes back ten minutes later. It warms your heart at the sight of him and you feel the comfort in your body when he slides underneath the covers. 

You surprise yourself when you move to lay your head on his chest with your arm around his body. Heeseung doesn’t seem to mind, though, and he pulls you closer to him like you’ve done it a million times before. The two of you have wanted this for too long to make it feel awkward. 

“What did Jake say when you came into the room?” you ask.

“He was half asleep until I turned the light on but he asked me if we resolved things. I told him yes and then he asked if I was staying the night with you when he saw me leaving.”

“Am I right to assume he was more excited about having the room to himself?”

Heeseung laughs. “That you are.”

“Deep down, I think Jake knew we’d find our way. I think they all did.” 

“I’m sorry,” Heeseung whispers once more. You quiet him with a kiss to his cheek. 

“I know, Hee. We can talk more tomorrow. For now, let’s sleep.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The next morning, Heeseung wakes up before you do and frowns when your body’s all the way on the other side of the bed. He leans over your sleeping frame and brushes strands of hair from your face, admiring how serene you look in your sleep. For a moment, Heeseung ponders if it’s too soon to wake you up the way he’d like to, but if last night was any indication about how you felt, he’d be willing to take the chance. 

He leans down to kiss your forehead and both of your cheeks repeatedly until your eyes flutter open. Heeseung thinks he could listen to your laugh every morning with the way you wince at the sunlight and how his lips touch your skin. Still, your gaze finds its way to Heeseung’s and you can’t help but smile. 

There was a brief moment before you fell asleep that you’d wondered if you’d been too quick to forgive him. But for as hurtful as the past year was, you can’t help but acknowledge the steps he took during the trip in an attempt to undo all of the contempt you had built for him. You owe it to yourself to be happy with Heeseung. 

“Good morning, pretty girl,” Heeseung says with his morning voice that sounds a little too good for seven in the A.M. “Did you sleep well?”

“Slept like a baby. I feel like one too.”

“That’s because you are a baby,” Heeseung teases, kissing your cheeks and then the tip of your nose. “My baby.” 

“I really want breakfast but I’m too lazy to get up from the bed.”

“We could always order in. I’ll pay.”

You shake your head. “I’ll be too tempted to stay in bed and it’s our last full day in Paris. Let’s just get ready and have breakfast at the hotel restaurant?” 

The both of you are halfway done eating breakfast when the rest of your friends trickle in, joining your table and the ones next to you. It takes them a while to wake up, but it’s Sunghoon who speaks up first. 

“I’m assuming you two talked?” 

“And made up,” you say with a tilt of your head. 

“That’s my girl,” Sunghoon says proudly, sipping on his coffee. 

“I’ll let that slide since we’re all friends,” Heeseung jokes. You laugh and, for the first time in a while, you don’t feel guilty about it. 

“I had the whole room to myself, too. I woke up and didn’t have to fight anyone for the bathroom,” says Jake. 

Riki nearly spits his juice out. “You guys slept together?” 

“Not like that!” you’re quick to exclaim. “He just slept over. Slept. As in, we closed our eyes and actually slept.” 

“Both of us knew we needed our beauty sleep before dealing with the six of you asking us questions,” Heeseung adds. “But for your information, we made up. We still have things to figure out, but we’re back to being friends.” 

“Hopefully more than that,” Jungwon coughs behind his coffee. He merely smiles when Heeseung looks in his direction.

“I think you two should spend the rest of the day by yourselves,” Jay suggests. “We can either meet up for dinner or whenever we have to check out.” 

“I second that,” Sunoo agrees. “You two clearly need to talk.” 

“I wanted to go shopping with Y/N again,” Riki says with a frown. Jake presumably knocks his shin with Riki’s, who clears his throat. “But you two should totally hang out without us.” 

“I think we might,” Heeseung says, holding his hand out for you to take. He stands from his seat and encourages you to stand as well, leading you away from the table. “Thanks for the breakfast, Jay!” 

“I’m choosing to be the bigger person because Y/N’s been through enough,” Jay mutters when Heeseung is out of hearshot, making the table laugh.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

“You know, I think the reason why I had such a hard time reaching out was because we’d never gotten into something that serious before,” Heeseung admits. The gelato in your hand isn’t as good as you remember it, but it does the job to cool you down on a particularly warm afternoon. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Do you remember when we were kids and how hard it was for me to talk to you about anything that was action movies or superheroes?” 

“God, you and your Superman cape from fourth grade,” you snort. “You wore that thing to school everyday. Your dad had to wash it every night otherwise you’d refuse to go to sleep.” Heeseung shuts his eyes at the memory. 

“You were the only person I felt comfortable pouring my heart out to, you know. You were always the first person I called when I needed someone to talk to, but then I was the reason why you got hurt…I think part of me didn’t know if I was allowed to reach out to you.

“It’s a stupid excuse, I know. But when I heard you were coming back to Seoul a few weeks before you did, I couldn’t help but think about how many times I could’ve texted you.”

“Yeah, you could’ve.” Heeseung merely nods at your agreement. “We’ve been through a lot over the years, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.” 

“I just wish I had come to this conclusion when it happened. I was so caught up in graduating and focusing on how I felt that I didn’t consider how you must’ve been dealing with all of it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so selfish in my life.” 

“I think the time you refused to let me be friends with Jake because you said you needed friends aside from me was your second most selfish moment.” 

Heeseung rolls his eyes. “Quit it. I was thirteen, okay?” 

Neither of you particularly care to do any sightseeing today. It feels nice to walk side-by-side without the company of your other friends. The juxtaposition of how you felt towards the beginning of this trip compared to how relaxed you feel surprises you a tenfold, but you suppose that comes with genuine apologies and forgiveness. 

You’re willing to admit Heeseung looks criminally good in black jeans and a striped button down. He wears his clothes so effortlessly yet still looks like he could’ve taken his wardrobe from a magazine. You’ve always found it a bit unfair that Heeseung always manages to look so cool without trying too hard. 

“You’re staring,” he mutters, looking at you from the corner of his eye as the two of you walk down a cobblestone street. 

“I’m not,” you lie. You turn your head to avoid his gaze, but Heeseung thinks he likes seeing you this shy. It’s new territory for him, one that he wants to explore. 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

“Go for it.” 

“Why did you forgive me so quickly?” Heeseung asks. “I appreciate it, I really do, but a big part of me feels like I don’t deserve that just yet.” 

It takes you a while to answer. Why did you forgive him as fast as you did? For a week and a half, being in close quarters with Heeseung made you feel nothing but anxious and on edge, so why were you able to allow yourself to be vulnerable in front of him?

“I’ve always held onto the idea that you’re a good person,” you begin. “I’ve always admired that you intend to care for the people you love and make them feel like they have a place in your life. You’ve always made me feel safe, like I could run to you when things got too hard. 

“What you did was in poor taste, sure, but making bad decisions doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. I know you, Hee. I know how you get when you’re faced with a difficult choice and how long it takes for you to come around. I was justifiably hurt but I think a part of me always knew you’d fix it somehow.” 

“I wish I could feel deserving of that kind of forgiveness.” 

“You know me. You know I wouldn’t tell you that if I didn’t feel like what I’m saying is true. I’ll admit that I shocked myself with how quickly I let my guard down with you…but you’re Heeseung. You've been my best friend since the first grade and you’re the boy I happen to have a really big crush on.” 

Heeseung bites his lips at your confession, willing himself not to be too forward as to kiss you in the middle of the street. He sees your bravery and the way you’ve put your heart directly in the palm of his hand, acting out of vulnerability even though the both of you knew he hurt you once before. 

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. Instead, Heeseung grabs your hands and locks his fingers with yours, squeezing three times to tell you he loves you.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The afternoon comes and goes with little to no plan. Heeseung’s a bit worried that he hasn’t heard anything from the boys and he’s rendered shocked that you’ve taken it upon yourself to let the day take you where it may instead of finding the next spot to visit. 

As if on cue, Jay texts him with plans for the evening. 

jjongcaprio: 20:00, Pétrelle. It’s a five minute walk from the hotel

jjongcaprio: I made reservations for you and Y/N tonight. Don’t worry about me and the boys, just take her out on a romantic date 

jjongcaprio: The bill’s covered. The reservation’s under your name btw

heeseung: bro i cannot ask you to do this 

jjongcaprio: You don’t have to. You and I both know Y/N deserves to be wined and dined 

jjongcaprio: Plus I saw you looking at a few restaurants when we were on the train. I managed to pull some strings for you and got a last minute reservation for tonight

heeseung: thank you jay…i really don’t know what i’d do without you

jjongcaprio: It’s really not a problem, bro. Promise me that you’ll try to be happy with her. The guys and I are rooting for you two

“So,” Heeseung clears his throat as he looks up from his phone, “I think you and I should go out for dinner.” 

“Where are you thinking of going? I can text the others and see if they’re done sightseeing, or whatever it is they’re doing.”

“I mean just us two.” He stands awkwardly when you’ve turned your attention to him, his feet planted on the sidewalk beneath him as if that’ll help steady his beating heart. 

“Like a date?” 

“Yes,” he says immediately. “Like a date. I, Heeseung, am asking you out on a date. Tonight. At eight.” 

“I, Y/N, would love to go on a date with you. At eight.” 

The twinkle in your eye and your coy nature makes him feel like a teenager again. He leads you into the hotel and walks you to your door before stepping back as you step inside. 

“We’ve got an hour and a half before we need to leave. I’ll come by and then we can walk together. The restaurant is only a five minute walk, so you can wear those new heels I know you feel guilty buying.” 

“They’re really pretty though,” you rationalize. 

Heeseung nods. “Gorgeous, actually. Maybe you’ll be as tall as me if you wear them.” 

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” 

Heeseung bites his bottom lip as you disappear behind the door, locking eyes with you until you’re completely out of sight. Flirting with you like this is a completely new phenomenon for him. He’s only daydreamed about what you might say if he said something a little too suggestive or how you might act if he dedicated a wink in your direction. Heeseung had never considered that he’d be the one flustered, cheeks reddening to the point where he starts to feel shy. 

His nerves are endless as he picks out an outfit for tonight. Heeseung sends a quick text to his parents, who had pressured him into bringing nice clothes for a fancy dinner, and spends a few minutes updating them on the events of the past few days. His mother is pleased, to put it lightly, and sends a handful of emoticons to display her happiness. His father tells him words of encouragement before making Heeseung promise to bring you for dinner as his girlfriend, not just his best friend. 

With the last touch of his cologne, Heeseung looks at himself in the mirror and tries not to think too hard about how he looks. You’re Y/N, his best friend since he can remember, and you’ve seen him with snot dripping from his nose. 

“I look fine,” he says to himself in the mirror. “Y/N will like the look because your mom picked it out and we know those two agree on everything. Absolutely nothing to worry about.” 

Heeseung’s only regret is he doesn’t have a bouquet of flowers to present you with as he makes his way to your hotel room. He wipes his palms on his trousers and takes a deep breath before knocking on your door. 

When it opens, he’s met with the sight of you in a short black dress that hugs your hips to accentuate your body. The dress itself is an elegant, spaghetti strap number with a flattering neckline paired with jewelry that makes your skin appear to be glowing. Your heels match well with the dress you’ve chosen, so much so that Heeseung’s jaw drops when his eyes rake over your body. 

“Wow,” he mutters. “Just…wow.” 

“I’m not used to you being speechless,” you say mildly, closing the door behind you. 

“You look gorgeous,” he sputters. “I shouldn’t be seen with you tonight.” 

“You’re dramatic, Hee.” You give him a once over and Heeseung thinks he wouldn’t mind you checking him out as you please. “You look handsome as ever.”

He beams at the compliment and holds his arm out for you. 

“Shall we?”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Heeseung knows the type of person you are and what you value, yet he still renders himself shocked when you allow him to take control of the evening. He knows you don’t need to have the expensive consequences that come with a first date or to be sipping the most luxurious wine to be happy, but Heeseung can’t help but feel like you deserve to feel as elegant as you look every once in a while. 

The host leads the two of you to a table with the most gorgeous view of the Parisian scenery. The twinkling stars paired with the dimly lit restaurant adds a romantic touch to the evening. Heeseung mentally thanks Jay for preparing wine recommendations so neither of you have to think too much about it. 

For a moment, he’s worried that he’s reached too far out of his depth. The fanciest thing Heeseung has ever done with you is eat ramen after prom in your best outfits because you both came to the conclusion that prom should be spent with someone you actually like. It’s funny in hindsight when he thinks about it now. 

You look so beautiful like this, allowing yourself to be taken care of by him. Talking to you over the table feels like you’re back in Korea before all that transpired. The food is impeccable and Heeseung thanks his lucky stars that he and Jay got it right. You sing praises left and right. 

Dinner ends much quicker than he’d like as the two of you finish dessert. The waiter tells him the bill has been taken care of and Heeseung sits in his seat awkwardly as you look out the window to see the view from outside. But he hears the live band in the background and sees a few older couples slow dancing from where he sits and makes up his mind. 

“Do you want to dance?” 

You pull your attention to him. For a moment, he thinks he’s asked the most absurd question known to man when he recalls all the times you refused to make a home on the dance floor until you’ve gotten at least four drinks in your system. 

You surprise him. 

“I’d love to, Hee.” 

The room disappears when he leads you to the dance floor. He mimics the other dancers and takes the lead, swaying your bodies back and forth to the melody of the music. You smell of vanilla and cinnamon, a scent so distinctly you that it makes him grin like a man in love. 

“Thank you for tonight,” you say against his neck. “I won’t lie when I say I feel like a princess.”

“That’s because you are a princess,” Heeseung says, kissing the top of your head. “You deserve to be treated like one.”

“I can’t believe you pulled this off so quickly. Don’t restaurants like these require reservations?”

He chuckles nervously. “About that…Jay helped me with the details. I was looking up restaurants to take you to if I got the chance before our trip ended. I guess he saw the list and chose the most romantic one out of the bunch.”

“I owe Jay a thank you.”

“We both do.” 

“I feel lucky to have people in my life who care about me this much,” you say. “I’m so happy you’re back in my life.” 

“I’m happy to be in it.” Heeseung squeezes your waist. “Deep down, it’s always been you that I’ve loved. There’s not a single person who makes me feel the way you do.”

“Yeah?” 

You feel him nod. “I’ll say it until you believe me. I’ll even yell it in this restaurant right now.” 

“Please don’t,” you laugh. “I believe you.” 

The sound of the melody overtakes the conversation. You feel Heeseung’s steady heartbeat as he expertly moves your bodies together on the dance floor. When you close your eyes, you think of this moment and how badly you want to commit it to memory, no longer in anguish over the tribulations of the past year. It feels nice to let go of your worries, even better that you have Heeseung back. 

“I really want to kiss you,” he murmurs under his breath. You pull your head back.

“Then you should kiss me.” 

Heeseung wastes no time and pulls you into him, one arm around your waist and the other behind your neck. His mouth finds yours when he decides he loves the taste of red wine on your lips. It feels poetic to be kissing you for the first time as you’re both dressed to the nines in the middle of Paris. To him, kissing you feels like a breath of fresh air and the start of something new. For you, kissing him feels like coming home. 

When he pulls back, you search for his eyes. 

“Take me back to the hotel,” you whisper. 

Heeseung feels his heart drop. 

“I’m sorry. We can go back now.”

You grip the collar of his slightly unbuttoned dress shirt when he moves. It’s only then that Heeseung sees the want in your eyes and the pure lust that clouds your pupils. 

“Take me back to the hotel.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

By the time your elevator reaches your floor, Heeseung’s dress shirt is completely unbuttoned with his toned chest exposed. You’re barely able to detach yourself from his mouth when he pushes you out of the contraption. Your hand reaches for his as you pull him towards your room, digging through your purse when you feel Heeseung’s lips on the back of your neck. 

“You look sexy in my jacket,” he mumbles, pressing wet kisses to your skin. 

“L-Let me find the key.” 

“So sexy.” His hands slide up the side of your body until he grips your waist. 

When the door opens, you pull Heeseung inside with you and lock it shut before pushing his dress shirt off of his body, exposing his muscular build and broad shoulders. You aren’t shy about hiding your lust, gazing all over his chest and abdomen as you feel your core drip with arousal. 

“I like it when you look at me like that,” Heeseung says. He reaches for your hand and places it on his chest. You take the liberty to glide your nails down his abdomen, feeling the way he tenses underneath your touch. 

“I’m really wet,” you say as you eye the tent that has grown in Heeseung’s pants. 

“Are you?” he asks. “You won’t mind if I check?” 

You shake your head and Heeseung takes that as a green light, his hands finding the soft fabric of your dress before pushing his hand underneath it. He whimpers when his fingers come in contact with your wet lips. It’s adorable, the way you push yourself against him to chase his lips while he fingers smear your wetness across the fabric of your panties. 

“Bed,” you mumble against his lips. 

He follows where you pull him, loving the way you take control when you push him onto the mattress. Heeseung distracts himself to catch his breath from the overwhelming sense of pleasure to realize that you’ve started to undo his belt buckle and take his hard cock out of his pants. 

“You don’t have to—”

“I want your cock in my mouth,” you plead, looking him in the eye. “Please let me.” 

You sit politely on your knees as you unbuckle Heeseung’s pants. His chest rises and falls in anticipation and he looks down at you to see that your mouth is watering at the sight of him. 

He’s already fully hard; he has been since you started unbuttoning his shirt in the elevator. You spit directly onto the tip of his cock and he bites his lip at the sudden contact before watching as you swipe your hand up and down himself. 

Heeseung doesn’t want to think about how you learned to do what you’re doing to him. He doesn’t want to think about the boys you’ve kissed or the people who got to see you like this before. What he does know, however, is he’s the only person from here on out who will see you on your knees if he can help it. 

Your mouth envelopes the head and Heeseung emits a short grunt. The tension between you two begins to slowly dissipate as you fit more of his cock inside of your mouth. Your tongue expertly traces every ridge and vein as you push your throat down onto him, causing Heeseung to put his palms on the mattress and throw his head back. 

You hum around him when he moans. He’s itching to put his hand behind your head but refuses the idea, letting you set your own pace. Heeseung watches as you switch your angle, sitting up to rest on your knees to push your head further down on him. He witnessed as you spread your legs, a choked moan coming from his throat in conjunction with a particular gag from your mouth. 

There’s spit everywhere. It’s trailing down your lips and connecting to his cock when you pull yourself from his body. It’s seeping to his pants and he’s about to speak up when your motion attaches itself to his sensitive balls, licking at its warmth while your hand strokes him from atop. 

“That’s it. Fuuuuck.”

He bucks his hips once and curses. Heeseung feels your mouth envelop one of his balls, the pressure of your mouth around it making him feel a kind of euphoria he didn’t know was possible. Your mouth moves to the other to give it the same treatment before retreating back to his cock. This time, your hand massages him from below as you suck on him. 

When you look up at him and wink, he decides enough is enough. 

“Baby,” Heeseung pants, attempting to push your head off of him. He thinks it’s so sexy that you’re turned on while giving him a blowjob. “Baby, please stop. I don’t wanna come yet.” 

You oblige and take your mouth off of him with a popping sound. You sit back and Heeseung stares at you through drooping eyelids in pure shock and amazement at how you’ve managed to pull him to a near orgasm as quickly as you did.

“Come here,” he beckons with his fingers.

He attaches his mouth to yours and pushes his tongue inside of your mouth, exploring the warm, wet walls you have to offer. Heeseung decides that he loves the feeling of your tongue against his and lets you suck on the muscle. 

You take your dress off to reveal sheer panties with nothing else on. Heeseung’s jaw drops at your beauty, but he also cannot believe how sexy his best friend’s body is. To him, you were sculpted from the hands of Aphrodite herself with great love and care. And it’s all for him.

“You are so fucking sexy,” he murmurs, hovering over your body to press kisses to the valley of your chest. You let his hands roam and spread your legs to make room for him. 

Heeseung’s head travels back to your chest and you watch as he envelops your right nipple in his mouth. “Your tits are just perfect.” 

He makes a show out of it, hands cupping your breasts to massage them as his mouth works on you. He pushes your tits together and shoves his face between them, inhaling your scent while his tongue gathers whatever taste your body gives him. Heeseung moves to your left nipple and uses his tongue to flick the hardened bud over and over again until you’re arching your chest into his mouth. 

He grinds himself into your core with his pants still loose around his legs. It brings a moan out of your throat and he swallows it whole with his lips pressed firmly against yours. The friction feels delicious with the fabric of your panties against the hardness of Heeseung’s cock. He grinds against you with the help of your hips rolling into his, your natural wetness coating his cock in your essence. 

Heeseung moves his head to kiss your jawline, moving his mouth all over the expanse of your neck until he kisses right below your earlobe. You let out a particularly loud moan when he does, and Heeseung curses.

“Shit. Yeah baby, make those sounds for me. Let me hear your pretty moans.” 

His mouth attacks the area again and you aren’t shy about it. Your hands tangle in his hair as he kisses your neck and grinds his cock against the wet panties, which have by now molded to the shape of your pussy. 

Heeseung groans at the feeling of a particularly wet gush and lifts his hips enough to elicit a whimper out of your mouth. He experimentally lifts his hips again to align himself with you as he did before. The pressure must feel so good because your mouth hangs open with your eyes boring into his. 

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Does my baby feel good?” You can only nod and he doesn’t blame you. “That’s a good baby. Fuck, you’re so wet, it’s driving me crazy.” 

Heeseung feels your legs wrap around him and the way your heel pushes his lower back into your core. He takes the hint and quickens his pace, wanting nothing more than to see you come for him.

“You gotta come for me now, pretty girl,” he coaxed. “You deserve to come. Won’t you do that for me?” 

Heeseung is sure that he’s never seen or heard anything more erotic compared to the vision of watching you come. Your mouth opens with breathy moans as you focus on your pleasure and your eyes squeeze shut as if you’re trying to savor the moment in your mind.

“Atta girl,” Heeseung praises when your hips grind into his. He keeps himself still and lets your body take over. 

You eventually come down and realize Heeseung has yet to come, but that’s the last thing on his mind. He sinks his body down to come face-to-face with your crotch and licks the come off of the soiled fabric of your panties. The sheerness gives him a sneak peek at your pussy, and he groans when he licks a slow, fat strip up your slit.

“You taste so fucking delicious, baby.” He licks at you again, faster this time. “Tastes like milk and honey.” 

Heeseung kisses your wet panties over and over again, his soft lips providing jolts of pleasure. His hands roam around the soft flesh of your thighs and squeezes them as if he remembers you’re all his to touch. The feeling is one you want to commit to memory, but it seems like Heeseung knows your mind is working overtime because he reaches his hand to find yours and gives it a reassuring squeeze. 

You let his hand go when he pulls it from you to slide the useless barrier down your legs and to undo the straps of your heels. He takes great care to kiss your skin tenderly, starting by your ankle and making his way down just shy of where you need him the most. Heeseung repeats the process on the other leg until he comes face to face with your glistening core, licking his lips as if he doesn’t know where to start. 

“Such a pretty pussy,” he says before placing a soft kiss to your clit.

He repeats the motion, kissing your folds like they’re delicate antiquities that need to be handled with the utmost care. His lips become covered with your essence; he feels you squirm underneath him and uses the expanse of his palms to gently pry your legs open for him, soothing the soft skin of your inner thighs. 

Heeseung tentatively licks your slit and decides he loves the sound of your moans when he has his mouth on you. He does it again, dragging his tongue to feel every ridge and crevice that he’s yet to explore. His mouth feels like a warm comfort with the slow pace he sets, licking you as if he’s trying to tell you how much he loves you without saying it. 

“You taste divine.” 

You look down below to see his hair covering his eyes and brush it away with your hands. Heeseung looks right into your soul and you feel your heart clench, causing you to roll your hips into his face. He merely buries his nose close to you until he bumps your clit with the tip, pushing his wet muscle into you deeper. 

When your moans get lighter and your breathy sounds are the only audible thing in the room aside from his own moans. You open your eyes to see Heeseung humping the mattress below you. The sight is so erotic that you can’t help but let out a loud whine at the thought of Heeseung pleasuring himself while pleasuring you. 

He brings his fingers to your pussy and sways his fingers back and forth until he foregoes his slow pace, favoring a faster one. He abuses your swollen clit while you can only lay there and watch him play with you. Heeseung expertly inserts his middle finger into your seeping hole and bites his lip to concentrate on getting you to come again. 

“I need it,” he confesses, bringing his mouth to lick you as he adds another finger. “I need you to come for me again, baby. Can you do that for me?’

“Yes, Hee,” you pant. “I wanna come so badly.”

“You can do it, baby. You’ve been such a good girl tonight, giving me the best head and letting me make you come. I think you deserve to feel good.” 

“I do,” you nod rapidly. “Fuck, I think I’m coming.”

“That’s right,” he coos, hammering his digits into you while his tongue laps up the juices leaking from your pussy. “So good. You taste so fucking good. Give it to me.” 

He doesn't relent until he’s satisfied. Heeseung cleans the come from your lips as best he can while sneaking his hand to his cock, pumping himself as he tastes your orgasm on his tongue. 

“You’ve crazy,” you mutter as you settle from your high, loving the feeling of Heeseung’s mouth tenderly licking you clean. 

“For you.” He pulls his face away and wipes the back of his hand before pressing a kiss to your clit. 

When he rises to take his pants and boxers off, he sees you with your arm covering your face. 

“Are you doing okay?” 

“Perfect, actually,” you sigh. You remove your arm to see him with his cock in his hands and motion him to come towards the edge of the bed as you crawl on your knees before sitting upright to pull him into a searing kiss. 

“That might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen you do,” Heeseung says against your mouth. “It’s better than porn, if I’m being honest.” 

You grab his cock and stroke him. “I’ll consider letting you take a video of me when we get back home if you fuck me right now.” 

“Turn around,” he says after an open-mouthed kiss.

You follow his instructions and he groans to himself as you present your perfect pussy to him again. Heeseung sinks to his knees and smacks your ass before shoving his tongue into your hole. He spreads your asscheeks apart and digs his nose against you, licking up the wetness and remnants of your orgasm like it’s his last meal. His tongue licks up your body until he finds your wrinkled muscle and presses a soft kiss to your tightest hole. 

The surprise comes to him when you moan softly. Your body doesn’t jerk away. Rather, you spread your legs further for him and Heeseung moans against your pussy before bringing his tongue to lick over the muscle again. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks, dipping his tongue back in.

“Better than I imagined.” 

“You imagined my tongue in your ass, baby?” 

You nod. “I’ve always wanted to know what that feels like.” 

Heeseung doesn’t give you a verbal answer. Instead, he spits into your hole and watches it dribble down to your pussy, licking his way from your incredibly wet folds to your hole once again. He licks over the expanse with the surface of his tongue one, twice, three times before you’re whining for his cock. He wastes no time tearing open the condom and hurriedly places it on himself. 

The first stretch of his cock in your pussy makes him see Heaven. The sharp gasp that comes from your mouth is music to his ears and he’s careful to sink himself into you slowly, inch by inch until you’re telling him he can go further. 

His cock impales you at such a perfect angle that it has you falling to your elbows, your back arched so perfectly that he’s sure you’d be the most popular pornstar if you really wanted to be. He keeps half of his cock in you to allow you to adjust, but he underestimates just how cock hungry you are because you back yourself until he’s filling you to the brim.

“Baby’s such a slut, isn’t she?” Heeseung wonders out loud. He grins when you nod. “I love you like that. So dirty for me.” 

“Only for you,” you say, cheek pressed to the mattress when Heeseung thrusts in you. 

The sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room. It doesn’t take long for your wet juices to glisten over the back of your thighs and onto Heeseung’s. His hands find purchase on your hips as he pulls your body close to him, loving the way your choked moans become muffled by the mattress below. 

“So. Fucking. Tight,” he moans with detailed thrusts. “So. Fucking. Wet.” 

He climbs on the bed and plants his feet on the blankets, holding your body in place as he pounds into you from above. The angle has you seeing stars and rips moan after moan from you. 

Heeseung grins wickedly. “Such a fuckable body. So perfect.” 

His degradation paired with praise ignites a fire inside of you. You can only moan louder to let Heeseung know exactly how he’s making you feel and you can’t help but think you deserved to be fucked exactly the way Heeseung is fucking you.

The pleasure feels like an explosion of a thousand suns. Your body is warm from the hours you’ve spent in the hotel room and your neighbors getting a good night’s sleep is the least of your concerns. Heeseung’s cock drills into you from above like he’s a sex god and it nearly brings you to tears. 

He turns you over carefully until you’re laying flat on your back with your head propped against the pillows. He steals one from you and puts it underneath the small of your back to create leverage before lining up his cock with your entrance and pushing himself in again.

Heeseung thrusts like he’s got to prove just how in love with you he is. Your wanton moans fill the room with his low grunts as his cock continually hits the one spot that makes you see stars, over and over again.

But you know he could do more to make you feel better. He must notice you in deep thought because he slows his hips. 

“What is it, baby?” Heeseung asks when he notices your eyebrows knit together. “Is this okay? Do you need me to stop so we can take a break?”

“Take it off,” you whisper. His hips have faltered and his pace stutters at your words.

“Take what off?”

“The condom.” Heeseung nearly chokes. “Take the condom off.” 

“Baby—”

“I just wanna feel you.” 

Heeseung curses and his hips automatically drill into yours at the request out of pure shock. He can’t lie to himself. He’s thought about it multiple times since you left for Europe and as he’s come to term with his feelings for you. The cute fantasies about taking you on dates to dinner or drive in theaters transform into daydreams about dirty affairs in his bedroom with his seed leaking out of your perfect hole. 

Still, he doesn’t believe it.

“Please, Hee,” you plead, arching your chest towards him. “Let me feel you. Don’t you want to come inside me?”

“Fuck,” he falters, his forehead on yours. “You can’t just say that…I can’t be risky with you.” 

“Yes you can.” He watches you bite your lip and feels your hands push him off of you. Heeseung doesn’t put up a fight when he slips out of your warm hole and feels your hands grip his cock, desperately trying to tug the condom off of him. 

Heeseung sees the pathetic rubber in your hands when you bring it up for him to see. It’s glistening and his mouth drools at the sight, lips parting enough as if he stares at it in disbelief. He groans lowly in your ear as he peppers a few wet kisses to your neck. 

You spread your legs wider in the air and grip his cock in your head, pumping him a few times before letting his bare tip rest against your hole. His sharp intake is enough to make you bite your lip. 

“Pussy’s so wet,” he says against your neck, pushing an inch inside of you. “God, I could come like this.”

“You can.” 

“No, baby. Gonna fuck you the way you deserve before I come.”

With that sentiment, Heeseung pushes himself inside of you until he’s fully sheathed within your walls. He relishes the way you gasp at the sudden movement and he uses this angle to his advantage, positioning his ear next to your mouth to hear your delicious sounds. 

He moves his hips at such a pace that it makes you feel like your body’s bouncing on top of the soft mattress below you. Heeseung presses his chest against yours to kiss you like his life depends on it, tongue invading the privacy of your mouth but you couldn’t care less where his mouth goes. He can feel your nipples on his skin and groans into your mouth when you clench at a particularly hard thrust. 

“S-So good,” you stutter against his mouth with a breathy moan. Heeseung feels your arm around his shoulders, scratching at his back. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Mhm,” he coaxed. “Such a good baby. You look so pretty underneath me.” 

With a new sense of purpose, Heeseung lifts himself to push himself into you at a deeper angle. He forces his hips into you harder, your hands coming to your chest to cup your tits to give you something to hold in the meantime.

“That’s right, beautiful. Squeeze your tits for me.” 

You do, pinching and twisting your nipples until you hear Heeseung moan above you. It sounds nearly animalistic, the way his throat emits a groan that sounds so primal. He sees the dirty smile you paint your mouth with and leans his head down to press a kiss to your forehead before his hand comes to your cheeks, squeezing them between my fingers.

“You like it when I fuck you like this?” Heeseung asks, hips rolling against your own pelvis. When you nod, he gives you a nasty smile of his own and gives you a few harsh thrusts for good measure before pulling himself off of your chest with his cock still inside of you. 

Heeseung sits on his knees and pulls out just far enough where his hot tip remains buried inside of you, relishing in the panty breaths you emit as he watches your chest rise and fall. You look so beautiful to him with your hair messed up against the pillow beneath you and with a few faint hickeys on your chest and neck. Heeseung thinks that all of his wildest dreams could never compare to how gorgeous you look when you’re positioned directly where he wants you. 

You don’t complain when he pulls out to rest his cock on your wet, bare pussy. You wince at the loss and let him slide himself up and down, biting your lip when he grazes your swollen clit over and over again. 

The man above you lifts your right leg so that he can grip you tighter. You relinquish any control left in your body as Heeseung curses and kisses the side of your ankle. He dips the head of his cock inside and thrusts shallowly as if to tease, but you know he’s exploring all the way his cock looks like against your own body. 

It feels euphoric. The whole affair is dirty, but it’s the kind of dirty that makes you want to do it again. It’s the kind of dirty that makes this night an event you’ll want to remember for the rest of your night because Heeseung had poured his entire heart and soul for you to take. 

For Heeseung, this pleasure is less about knowing you have him permission to put himself inside you. You’ve always been so sure of yourself and your body; it’s something Heeseung has always admired about you as a person. Growing up with your insecurities of relationships and dating might’ve made you feel like a late bloomer; to Heeseung, your tendency to keep your head straight has always been a testament to how knowledgeable you are about yourself and about others. You save yourself for people who are worthy of you, and god, does he want to be worthy of you.

“I love you,” Heeseung whispers from above you. His eyes are closed and he pays no mind to the feeling your pussy gives him. Flashes of your memories stitch together like a film reel with your laughter as the soundtrack. He doesn’t think he wants to hear anything else for the rest of his life. 

Just for good measure, he whispers it again. “I love you so much.” 

“And I love you.”

Heeseung opens his eyes to see your tender ones, cheeks flushed from the sudden compliment. He always liked that he knew how to get you to blush when no one else couldn’t. This time, a sense of pride blooms in his chest. 

“I’ll never let you down,” he confesses. “And if I do, I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” 

“I know, baby.” Heeseung’s hand cups your cheek and caresses it. “I trust you.” 

That’s enough for him to release your leg from his grip and pound himself into you like his life depends on bringing you to peak happiness. 

Heeseung’s palms are planted firmly on either side of your body as his hips roll gracefully against yours, the hot, wet mess between the two of you splashing on both of your thighs. He watches your eyes close shut and as your back arches to relieve some of the pressure, feeling somewhat proud of himself when he watches as your hands grab at the sheets for stability. 

There’s nothing that compares to watching you orgasm. Your eyebrows knit as if you’re concentrating while your mouth stands slightly ajar at the euphoric feeling of that single knot that’s threatening to come undone until it does. All of the girls he’s deluded into thinking he liked could never compare to the looks and sounds you’re making. 

“That’s it,” he coaxes softly. “Cream my cock, baby. That’s a good girl.” 

Heeseung feels you push and clench around him, gushing until there’s nowhere left for your come to go. He peeks down at where the two of you meet and groans when he sees his cock becoming painted in a sheer layer of white. It edges him on and the moment he locks his eyes with yours, his hips begin to stutter and he spills all he has to offer inside of you. 

He comes with short breaths as if he can’t believe you’ve allowed him to do so. Your hips move up and down as if to milk him for all he’s worth while Heeseung’s trying his best to balance his body on top of yours, grateful that some of his gym workouts prevent him from completely collapsing on top of you to.

His come seeps from your bodies and he pulls out, a few droplets splattering on your pussy lips. He nudges the tip against it, smearing his paint across your canvas and marveling at the sight. 

“My good girl,” he murmurs, eyes locked in at his handy work.

“I’ve never let anyone come inside of me,” you say with a fond expression. Your arm comes to brush Heeseung’s hair from his face before cradling his cheek when he looks at you in surprise. 

“Really?” 

You nod, biting your cheek. “Well, I always knew you were it for me. I didn’t want anyone else tainting what’s yours.” 

“Mine?” he asks, catching his breath. “You mean it? You’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Hee.” 

“All mine,” he mutters to himself in disbelief. 

You still feel his cock working itself against you. He’s still hard, a wonder after your hours locked away in your hotel room. It makes you laugh.

“No one has ever compared to you either,” Heeseung says. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he continues toying with your pussy. “Even when I fooled myself into thinking I didn’t like you.”

You laugh. “Well that’s good to hear. I realized all the guys I went after while I was abroad either looked like you or reminded me of you.” 

“I can confidently and stupidly say the same.” 

Your laughs echo through the room. Heeseung pulls your body upright, not caring that your mixed come is leaking on his cock and his bare lap. He kisses you with tender care, lips moving at a slow pace while his hands roam over the expanse of your back while your hands are on his broad shoulders. Heeseung could live like this everyday if you’d let him. 

You smile midway through when you feel his fully hardened cock against you. Heeseung apologizes quietly against your lips but feels you shake your head, pulling back to push him against the headboard until he’s comfortably seated. 

He looks at your pussy when you hover above him, the white cream still sticking to you as you grip his cock. Heeseung can’t believe his eyes when he understands what you’re about to do. Before he can even think, you align yourself with his cock and sink until you’re stuffed with him.

“Shit,” he curses through his teeth. 

“What good is coming inside of me if you don’t do it again and again, Hee?” 

“That might be the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

“Oh, yeah?”

You don’t move just yet, opting to press small kisses to Heeseung’s face. You kiss his forehead, both temples, his nose, both eyelids, and the apples of his cheeks before placing a kiss to his lips. 

“Before we leave, I want you to fuck me against that window,” you say, turning your head to the window that glimpses the city below. 

“But people can see,” is Heeseung’s first comment.

“So?” 

He chokes and when you feel his cock twitch inside of you, you can’t help but laugh at him.

“I’ve heard talk about your escapades, Lee. Why so shy with me?” 

He smacks your asscheek. “Naughty girl. Didn’t know you were nasty like that.” Heeseung gives you that kind of teasing smile that has you folding for him all over again. “Alright then, humor me. What else do you want to do before we leave?” 

“I’d love to give you a blowjob while we shower, too.” 

“That can certainly be arranged. Anything else?” 

You look around the room. “I kind of want to see you eat me out while I sit on the desk chair. Makes me think you’re some kind of secretary who’s desperate for my pussy.”

“I am desperate for your pussy,” Heeseung reminds you. “What if I’m the stone cold CEO and you’re the cute secretary whose ass I dream about?” 

You swat his chest. “This is my fantasy. You can have yours when we get home.” 

Heeseung raises his eyebrow. “Mm, you sure?”

“Positively,” you nod. Heeseung’s hands travel from your ass to your hips and guides you up and down his cock, letting you set the pace after the brutal first round from a few minutes prior. 

“Gonna fuck you in and on my car, since you like being watched so much,” Heeseung teases. His words seem to make your pussy clench and hips move faster. He forgoes any shyness when speaking about his fantasies and spills his every thought.

“I always thought you looked so cute in your old school uniform. I’ve always wanted to take you in that skirt they gave you.”

“I’ll buy one of those sexy schoolgirl costumes and surprise you for your birthday,” you say, locking your eyes with him. “Oh, professor! Is there anything I can do to raise my grade?”

Heeseung laughs at your antics, but the images of you in the costume aforementioned makes his grip on your body tighter. 

“I selfishly want to watch you suck me off while I play with the guys.” He says it in a way that makes him avert his gaze and you can see a faint blush on his face. “I-I saw this video on Twitter. It looks hot.”

“I can do that for you.” You kiss both of his burning cheeks.

“But mostly, I just want you to sit on my face. Mad at me? Sit on my face. Sad? Sit on my face. Happy to see me? Sit on my face.” 

“Simp,” you grunt, thighs burning from pushing yourself on and off of Heeseung’s cock. 

“And proud.” He smacks both ass cheeks again. “Now what do you say, baby? If you ride me until you come, you can blow me in the bathroom before I fuck you in front of the entirety of Paris. Can you do that for me?”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

The next morning, you meet Heeseung and the rest of the guys in the lobby while Jay checks out on behalf of all of you. Jake’s the first to see you coming. 

“You’re glowing and I don’t know if I like that.” He raises his eyebrow at Heeseung, who has pulled you into him by your waist. 

“At least some of us are getting laid,” you retort. “I don’t recall seeing anyone do the walk of shame even though you had the room to yourself.” 

Riki and Sunoo don’t try to contain their laughter as Jake’s cheeks turn a shade of pink. He rolls his eyes when you look at him, but shakes his head and punches your arm with your first. 

“Nah, I’m really glad you two got that out of your system and worked it out.”

“You guys had major sexual tension,” Sunoo comments. 

“Thank God Y/N’s room was at the end of the hall,” says Sunghoon. “I don’t know how their neighbors felt but I can sleep peacefully knowing I didn’t have to hear all of that.” 

“Okay, enough,” Heeseung laughs. “We get it, we had a lot of sexual tension and now we’re fine.”

“So you guys are boyfriend-girlfriend?” Jungwon asks. 

“Y/N is my girlfriend and I am her boyfriend.” 

“I will key his car if he hurts you again,” Riki tells you, looking at Heeseung after he’s finished speaking. You detach yourself from his waist and bring your arms around Riki to give him a squeeze.

“Thanks, Riki.”

“Okay, we should call the cabs right now so we can get to the airport early,” Jay says from behind you. 

“Jay is such a dad,” Jungwon whispers. 

He pays no mind to Jungwon’s words, instead focusing on the way Heeseung pulls you into his chest. It warms his heart in ways he can’t explain.

“Congratulations, you two. Let’s go home.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

add yourself to my taglist !!

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[1800-fight-me]

Devout Worshiper

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Rating: E (EXPLICIT - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Explicit sex! This is literally pure smut.

Word count: About 3.3k

Synopsis: The Prince Regent expresses his carnal desire and devotion to you atop the Iron Throne.

Author’s note: We were robbed! I can't believe they never showed us Aemond sitting on the Iron Throne or wearing a crown! So anyway I tried to fix it with this fic- please accept my humble offering.

I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Here's the link to my Aemond Masterlist if you want to check out my other stories! Also my requests are open, please send me some more!!

It was long after the moon rose and the knocking on your chamber door was loud and insistent. It made you nervous, and as you opened the door your confusion only grew. 

A kingsguard stood in your doorway. 

“My lady, the Prince Regent requests your presence in the throne room.” He said sternly, making it clear it was more of a demand than a request. 

Prince Regent? 

Trepidation filled you, but you only nodded demurely and followed his lead. 

You flinched as thunder cracked loud enough to hurt your ears. Flashes of lightning lit your way through the halls of the Red Keep as rain poured. 

The kingsguard opened the door to the throne room and gestured for you to enter. He did not follow you, only closed the door behind you, sealing you in. 

Lightning flashed again and you saw the Prince Regent where he lounged on the iron throne. His long silver hair practically shimmered in the low light, his legs were spread, and his gaze was heart stoppingly intimidating. 

Your heart skipped a beat, but for a completely different reason. 

“Aemond,” you breathed out, walking forward again so eagerly you nearly tripped over your own feet. 

You heard that he and Vhagar had returned to King’s Landing after the battle, but hadn't seen him yet. He looked good, completely himself, not a scratch on him and not a hair out of place. You were so relieved. 

He murmured your name too, strong unidentified 

emotion behind the syllables. 

As you beheld your childhood best friend, he looked the same, but something about him was completely changed. Perhaps it had something to do with the conqueror’s crown that rested upon his brow. 

You stopped walking as you reached the bottom of the stairs of the throne. 

“What-“

”Aegon was grievously harmed in the battle, I have been named Prince Regent while he heals,” he explained. 

You nodded, you had heard the King was hurt. 

“And you, are you alright?” 

He smiled crookedly and nodded. 

You stared up at him, for the first time in your life uncertain about what to say to your childhood companion. The circumstances of this conversation were far different than any other time you spoke to him. 

He beckoned you forward, and feeling jittery you 

tentatively made your way up the steps of the iron throne. 

As you reached him, relief overcame you and you laid your hand on his cheek. 

“I’m so glad you’ve returned unharmed. I was so worried for you. I don’t know what I would do if-“ 

He shushed you gently as he placed a large hand on your waist and pulled you closer to him, leading you to stand between his spread legs. 

You knew that none of this was proper. 

“I am here,” he murmured and nuzzled his face into your hand. 

Your heart thumped harder as you tried to pull your hand away, but he intertwined his fingers with yours and prevented you, instead running his nose gently across your skin, invoking goosebumps. 

He took a deep breath as his nose reached your wrist and let out a soft groan. 

Your knees threatened to buckle. 

You should pull away. Walk away. This was wrong, wrong, wrong. You were betrothed to another man. He was betrothed to a woman who was not you. 

“I thought of nothing but your scent throughout the battle, of returning home to you and smelling you once more,” he said, his voice low and deep, before he pressed his lips to your wrist. 

“Aemond,” you protested weakly. 

“Claiming you as mine,” he continued, trailing his lips further up your arm, pushing away the fabric in search of your skin. 

“It is a sin,” you protested. 

About a year ago Queen Alicent caught you and Aemond in a passionate kiss, it was not the first kiss between the two of you, and reprimanded you both sharply. Reminded you both that your maidenhood must remain intact and that developing feelings for one another was folly as it was highly likely you would both be betrothed to others. 

Her words were sharp and you took them to heart. You did your best to squash your feelings for Aemond and treat him only as a friend. 

But feelings that strong don’t merely disappear… and it seemed Aemond’s desire for you remained as fiery as ever. 

“Nothing between you and I could ever be a sin. We were made for each other,” he said urgently, his lips now reaching the skin revealed by your collar as he pulled you even closer. 

Your breath hitched in your throat. 

“We are betrothed to marry others,” you said even as you whined at the feel of his lips against your throat. 

“Fuck that,” he said as he bit down on the most sensitive part of your neck. 

Your grip on his shoulder tightened even as you plunged your other hand in his hair at the back of his head and held him closer, tighter, never wanting to be apart from him again. 

He chuckled darkly and licked up your throat to your jaw. 

“Aemond,” you panted and he pulled back enough to look you in the eye, one hand slipping to caress the side of your face. 

“You are mine,” he growled. 

You whimpered. 

“Say it,” he ordered. 

“I’m yours,” you breathed out. 

You stared into his violet gaze, overwhelmed by the emotion you beheld. 

“And I am yours,” he said. 

“And you are mine,” you repeated. 

You weren’t sure who moved first, but his lips crashed into yours, and it was like coming up for air. You couldn’t breathe without him, hadn’t been able to breathe properly in a year, and now in his arms with his lips covering yours, your breaths came properly.

He pulled back all too soon, and said, “We will say our vows again on the morrow in the sept. I am Prince Regent now, I sit upon the Iron Throne, no one can deny us. You will be mine for the rest of our lives.” 

The crack in your heart that has festered over the last year healed over instantly and you scrambled upon his lap as you kissed him once more. 

As your tongue tangled with his and you both gripped one another tighter, as he held you closer than you’d ever been held. 

‘Finally, finally, finally’ your heart and soul sang. He let out a cocky chuckle and you realized you’d said the words out loud. 

He pulled your legs apart, spreading them as you settled more comfortably on his lap, your dress no longer a barrier between the two of you as his tongue flicked against yours. 

Heat ran up your spine as the taste of him filled your mouth, as your blood pounded through your veins, as he somehow managed to pull you even closer- practically crushing you against him. 

His hand ran up from your waist, his palm enveloping and gently squeezing your breast, and an erotic moan escaped from your lips, spilling into his mouth. 

He pulled your mouth closer, tangling his tongue with yours as he moaned back. His fingers began to tug at the laces of your bodice, and you pulled back with a small gasp. 

“Aemond,” you whispered in concern, looking back to make sure you were well and truly alone. 

“I ordered them to leave us be and guard the doors. No one will interrupt us,” he reassured as he tugged again at the tie covering your heaving bosom. 

Your breasts spilled from your dress as you stared into his eye. You reached around his head and unbuckled the eyepatch, letting it fall to the side, rendering him bare too as the sapphire eye glittered- a reflection of the flashing lightning. 

His gaze dropped to your chest, and with hands on your waist he led you to move your hips, grinding down on his hardened length.  

Your whimper turned into a gasp as his lips left hot opened mouthed kisses that trailed from the hollow of your throat to your breasts. 

As his mouth enveloped your nipple, his tongue swirled on the sensitive bud and you let out a breathy, “Oh!”. You continued to grind down on him, your breaths quickening as heat filled your core. 

His thumb flicked your other nipple as he suckled and moaned. The crown on his head slid down on his forehead for the third time, getting in his way and irritating him. He yanked it off his brow and placed it on your head before returning his attention to your breasts. 

Your head fell back and you moaned wantonly at the eroticism of the action. His hands yanked at your skirts, rucking them up enough that his long warm fingers met the sensitive skin of your upper thighs. 

You shivered at his touch even as a bead of sweat dripped down your spine in the cold throne room. 

Never, you’d never been touched in such a way, never been worshiped in such a way, never had the love of your life fully expressed his devotion to you. And when his fingers slipped into your slick and lust swollen cunt, you knew you’d be his until the day you died.

Those fingers teased and rubbed, finding their way to the pinpoint of your pleasure and you gasped so loud it echoed throughout the room. 

He hummed in approval, his lips quirking into a smirk as he looked up at you and you yanked on his hair pulling him into another heated kiss. 

His finger, that damned finger, swirled around your clit and you bit his lip. 

He hissed your name and sunk a finger inside your desperate cunt. This, this was heaven. Fuck the gods and religion, you were his and he was yours and nothing else mattered. 

He slipped another finger inside you, pumping them in and out gently and you moaned as you clenched around those perfect fingers. 

“You’re perfect like this,” he groaned and you whined once more at the praise and with the flick of his thumb against your clit you gasped his name. 

His breaths came heavier as he watched you near your peak, the pupil in his eye lust blown, and the type of adoration in his gaze you’d always yearned for from him. 

Heat coiled in your core, your heartbeat pounded throughout your whole body, and with a moan of his name you came harder than your own fingers had ever brought you. 

His lips were on yours, consuming and devouring you hungrily, swallowing the sounds of pleasure from your lips that only he could elicit. 

Your desire for him did not diminish, no you needed him somehow even more now. You wiggled your hand between the two of you and ran your hand across his hardened cock. 

He moaned into your mouth, and feeling emboldened, you began to attempt to free it from his tight pants. He chuckled, placed a kiss on your jaw and took mercy on you, and assisted you. 

You wrapped your hand around his hardened length, trepidation filling you at the size of him, and you looked back up at his face with a shaky breath, suddenly feeling bashful at your lack of experience.  

Doubt flickered in your mind, what if you couldn’t please him? What if- 

His lips were on yours once again, he kissed you with a steadfastness that reminded you that this was in no way meaningless, this was Aemond - your best friend- expressing his love for you. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmured in your ear as he trailed his lips across your throat. His large hand wrapped around your much smaller one and guided you to wrap your hand around his cock. 

You whimpered in desire as he continued to guide you to stroke his throbbing length. He led you to twist your wrist, showed you where to grip tighter, guided you to pump his cock up and down until he was groaning. 

He let go of your hand, and you continued to pleasure him, feeling more powerful than ever before as you held the cock of the Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, as he again dipped his head and encapsulated your nipple in his warm wet mouth. 

You both whimpered in pleasure, and as you ran your other hand through his silver tresses, pulling his head closer into your chest, you felt that there was nothing better in this life than this. 

Until he lifted his head once more, his eye wide and filled with love, and you crushed your lips into his. 

His hand met yours once more, brushing yours away, and he guided his cock to the entrance of your sopping cunt as you settled your hips over his once more. 

Your breaths came heavier as he said, “You are mine.” 

“I’m yours,” you responded, nodding and following his guidance as you began to sink your hips down on his throbbing cock. 

You winced slightly at the stretch, but he ran a hand up and down your back, pulled you closer to him- your chest crushing against his, and dripped honeyed reassurances in your ear.

”You can fit me, my love. You were made for me,” he said. 

Your heart burned for him, and with his grip on your hip you managed to take him completely inside your soaked cunt.  

The frantic feeling in both of you eased as you sat on his lap, stuffed full of him, and felt complete in a way you never had before. 

Your hands ran across his chest, up his shoulders and down to his biceps, gripping the corded muscle you found everywhere. In tandem, he ran his hands up and down your curves, gripping the flesh he found, until his hands enveloped your ass. 

He gripped your ass and led you to shift your hips, grinding down on him in a circular motion. You let out a breathy, “oh!” The feel of him inside of you as you shifted, moving in an erotic way you’d never moved before, threatened to overcome you. 

“You are perfect,” he reassured and you clenched down on him, causing you both to moan. 

When you were ready, he then guided you to lift your hips up until his cock was almost completely out of your cunt, then you sunk back all the way down, sucking him inside your desperate hole, becoming his in a way that was irreversible. 

“Aemond,” you gasped as you repeated the action, continuing to let him guide you. You finally learned how good it felt to be full, to be so full of him you realized how empty and aching for him you’d felt for years. 

His grip tight on you, stuffed full of his cock, as his teeth bit down on your neck, you’d never felt so alive- so free. 

And so you found a rhythm, bounding up and down on his cock, bringing you both pleasure unlike any other. 

With his hands on your hips, your pace quickened, and one of your hands slipped from his shoulder, looking for more leverage and you cut yourself on a blade of the throne. 

You yanked your hand back with a gasp, ceasing your motions atop him, and he looked at you wide eyed. 

“What is it?” He asked and you placed your hand in his. He surveyed the small cut on your finger, you both realized it was small, barely more than a papercut really, you were lucky, and then he brought your hand to his lips. 

You blinked in surprise as he enveloped your finger in his mouth, lips parting and tongue licking the blood off it. 

You stared at him in shock for one moment, two, then three…. long enough that his expression became bashful, before you crushed your lips into his, pillaging his mouth with your tongue, desperate to taste yourself inside his mouth. 

He moaned as his hand on the back of your neck pulled you closer, and then you were both moving again. 

You felt blissful, stretched out in such a wonderful way, and desperate for anything he threw at you. 

“Made for me,” he breathed out once again against your lips. 

“You’re mine,” you replied as you ground down on him. 

He huffed out something between a chuckle and a moan, and with a tight grip of your hips, he said, “I am yours until the day I die.” 

He punctuated every word with a sharp thrust inside you, and with that he took control from you. You gave it to him gladly, and held onto his shoulders, tangled your fingers in his hair as he thrust up inside you at a pace that kept you from breathing properly. 

There was a spot inside you, that you’d explored before with your fingers, but never once had you felt like this as his cock hit that spot repeatedly. Your toes curled and you whined his name in a high pitched voice you didn’t even recognize as your own. 

“For so long I dreamed of what noises I could pull from your lips. Mmmm… the real thing is so much better than anything I could have imagined,” he purred in your ear. 

Your only possible response was a gasp and clenching on his thick length as your mind had separated from your body, there was only him and the pleasure his body provided yours. 

His muttered words in high valyrian, sweet promises of devotion as he continued to fill you. He filled your body, your heart, your soul, and the only expression of devotion you could return was to come on his cock. 

With a moan and a squelch you gushed around him and he gasped, holding you tighter, somehow increasing his pace- the intensity of his thrusts as he followed you over the edge. 

With one final push inside your cunt, he climaxed inside you, filling you with his come, and it was all you could do to kiss him, sloppily and desperate, as he marked you as his. 

You rested your head in his shoulder, breathing him in as you both came down and attempted to slow your heart rates. 

He tattooed his name against your being as he pressed his lips to any bare skin he could reach. 

“I love you,” you whispered, completely baring yourself to him, feeling more vulnerable than ever before, despite your state of undress, despite the fact that he was still inside you. 

“I have loved you for as long as I have known what love is, and I will continue to do so until I am ashes in the wind,” he swore, pulling back to meet your gaze. 

You could only wrap your arms tighter around him and hold him. 

Eventually, he disentangled the two of you, but swatted your hands away as you attempted to retie your bodice. 

“I never said I was done with you,” he growled. 

A shiver ran down your sweat slicked spine. 

You merely let him lead you to stand, watched as he tucked himself back into his pants, then he led you to sit on the iron throne. 

“Aemond,” you protested, but he merely shook his head at you, took a step back, and stared at you. 

There was desire, possessiveness, and feral satisfaction in his eye as he looked you up and down in your disheveled state that he caused. 

You could only imagine how you looked, sprawled on a throne you had no right to sit on, your breasts spilling from your dress, your hair disheveled, and a Targaryen crown crooked utop your head. 

But the Prince Regent only kneeled before you. 

Any doubts of his allegiance, any doubts in him flew away like feathers in the wind as Aemond Targaryen knelt before you, bowed his silver head, then lifted your skirts and spread your legs. 

His groan was drowned out by your loud gasp as he began to feast on you. 

Aemond ruined you and made you anew in the throne room that night, and at dawn the next morning he brought you to the sept and made good on his promise to marry you. 

Damn the consequences and opinions of others, before all the gods Aemond Targaryen declared his devotion to you above all. 

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ I WANNA SHOW YOU OFF ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: some other streamer's been buying you gifts, but satoru knows he can spoil you better.

contents: fem!reader. kinda sorta clingy!gojo. more toji slander hehe. inumaki and megumi gang up on gojo. like always. oh also you guys kiss on camera! tagging @sutorus and @yunymphs ꨄ︎

author's note: ughhh he's such a pretty pathetic loser i wanna shake him silly :(

"oh, satoru, someone sent me another gift!" you say with a smile, beckoning him over to look. satoru hops off his chair and looks over at your computer screen, resting his chin on the top of your head. "look, it's the skin i said i wanted! i wonder who sent it to me, huh..."

satoru shrugs and dips his head to kiss the side of your face. "coulda just asked me for it, y'know," he mutters, eyeing the username that had apparently sent you the gift.

you ignore him and gesture at the time on the top-right corner of your screen. "isn't your stream starting in a couple minutes?" you ask, tilting your head. satoru nods and pulls away, shaking his white hair out of his eyes before walking back over to his monitor. and just a minute or two later, he's live and chatting with his early viewers.

"hey, suguru," he says with a grin, waving at the screen when his close friend joins. "you wanna join my team for today? the match's gonna start in a couple minutes."

suguru-geto: yea sure one sec

satoru spins around in his chair a couple times, and he blows a kiss at you every time his chair faces your direction. and every time, you humor him and catch his kisses. eventually, he stops spinning around in circles and starts actually interacting with his viewers.

inumaki: i hate gojo's streams

inumaki: you just stare at your gf for half of them

inumaki has been kicked from the stream by satoru-gojo.

"anyways. suguru, you ready yet?" satoru says with a grin. suguru replies with a thumbs-down in the chat, and satoru groans impatiently. "what are you even doing that's takin' you so long?"

suguru-geto: taking care of something

"whatever," satoru grumbles, slouching down in his chair and spinning around one more time. "hey, chat, y'wanna know a funny story? i could use your help on it too."

the comments explode with various forms of affirmation, and satoru turns his head and winks at you. "so, lately, some random account's been sending my girlfriend everythin' she could ever want. skins, coins, you name it. what does that mean?"

he ruffles his hair with one hand and drums his fingertips on his desk with the other, surveying the replies from underneath his long, white eyelashes.

sho-ko: some guy wants her sooo bad

yuuji-itadori: maybe the person's just being nice! :)

satoru makes a face at shoko's comments and scowls, sitting up and leaning closer to the screen. "i dunno if the guy who's sending my girlfriend gifts is here right now, but if you are, you better not think that you have a chance with her. 'cause you don't!"

you can't stifle the smile that spreads across your face at satoru's indignant words, and when he turns to you, you just can't help but laugh. he's so sweet, even and especially when he does his best to gatekeep you. but ever since he brought you onto his stream for the first time, you've been an instant fan-favorite, so he can only hide you for so long.

satoru scrunches up his face at you childishly, and you draw a heart in the air right back at him. it makes him smile ruefully, and his eyes light up when you blow a kiss at him. he turns back to his screen determinedly and raises an eyebrow at the latest comment.

sho-ko: do u have the guy's username? cus you can find out who it is that way

"oh, it's... hard to say. rio-zuku?" satoru tries, squinting his eyes. "i don't know, whatever. you guys know him?"

megumi-fushiguro: dyou mean ryosuku? i hate him

yuuji-itadori: oh i don't like him either :( hes mean

satoru scoffs and puts his feet up on his desk, rolling his cerulean eyes. "he can't be more famous than me, so whatever."

megumi-fushiguro: he gets 100k views per stream

"well, he can't be a better gamer than me," satoru replies dismissively, waving his hand.

kugi-saki: didn't he win the val championship last year?

"but i bet i'm hotter!"

toji-fushiguro: you wish

"fuck you, toji," satoru huffs indignantly. "well, how haven't i heard of this guy? if he's so famous and so hot, huh?" ignoring your snickers, satoru switches to another tab and types in the username. but when he clicks on the first link, nothing shows up. it's a blank profile, and satoru's jaw dropped.

"how the fuck am i blocked?!" he whines, flopping his head back on the headrest of his seat and pretending to faint. the chat floods with a thousand expressions of laughter, and you hop off your seat to go sit on the desk of satoru's desk, taking care to stay out of sight of his camera.

satoru opens one eye and squints it at you, lips forming a childish pout. he reaches out and twines his fingers with yours, completely ignoring his exploding comment section. you squeeze his hand gently and reach over his keyboard, hitting a key to mute his microphone.

"i can block him if you want," you offer, wrapping your other hand around satoru's. "and, for what it's worth, i think you're prettier than him."

satoru grins smugly at that, eyes softening more and more the longer they focus on you. "m'kay, thanks... wait, how do you know what he looks like?" he asks suspiciously, narrowing his eyes playfully.

"'cause i looked him up this morning."

your boyfriend sighs dramatically and pretends to faint again. when he reopens his eyes, there's a slightly new look in his eyes as he mumbles, "i wish people would stop hitting on you."

you reach out and touch his chin, forgetting that people on his stream could probably see your hand even if you two were on mute. "oh, i get that a lot," you tease, pinching his cheek affectionately. "but, honestly, you're the only one i wanna be with. even if that other guy buys me everything i could ever want, he's still not you."

satoru kisses the inside of your hand, eyes still fixed on you. "you do know that i'd buy you all of that and more if you asked, right?"

"i know. and i'd love you even if you were as broke as toji."

your side comment makes satoru throw his head back in laughter, and he shakes his head as a wide smile grows across his face. he pushes his chair closer to the desk and tilts his head up, minty taste fresh on his mouth as he smiles against your lips.

a bashful giggle slips past your lips as satoru kisses you again and again. from the corner of your eye, you can see that the two of you are just barely off-camera—in fact, anyone who's watching the stream can tell that the two of you are kissing, but you're still just out of sight.

"d'you want the new battle pass?" satoru mumbles against your lips, caressing the side of your face. you nod and grin, kissing the corner of his mouth.

"only you would talk about a battle pass while you're kissi—" satoru cuts you off with another kiss, stopping you from finishing your sentence.

"uh uh, shut up and let me kiss you. you're the prettiest girl i've ever seen n' i wanna enjoy you," satoru says plainly, gripping your chin in between his thumb and index finger. he tugs your lips on his again, and when he finally pulls away, he turns back to his screen and sticks out his tongue.

satoru unmutes himself and smiles smugly at the camera, face flushed pink from the way you had kissed him back. "well, at least that asshole doesn't have my pretty girlfriend, and he never fuckin' will."

yuuji-itadori: aw you two are so cute :)

megumi-fushiguro: i miss the single gojo

inumaki: im back whatd i miss???

inumaki: oh nvm im leaving again

[leviathanspain]

not without him

anthony bridgerton x reader

synopsis: you knew birth would be no easy feat, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to do it without him

you clutched onto the white bedsheets, they were drenched with blood, and you were writhing on the bed as the doctor shouted orders at the nurses.

one had a cloth to your forehead, dabbing away your sweat and your tears. you couldn’t stop crying, it was an unbearable pain, that only got worse as the night went on.

violet had tried to prepare you, coming to her for advice on how to birth a bridgerton child. she had her most difficult birth with hyacinth, and just hearing her story sent chills down your spine.

anthony had been away in london when you went into labor. you knew he shouldn’t have left aubrey hall so close to the end of your pregnancy, but being the viscount meant there were things that required him present. you had hoped that your child would have some decency and arrive after the father, but the urge to push only became greater.

you feared that anthony wouldn’t make it, he was supposed to be here an hour ago, having rushed from london upon hearing the news.

the nurse looked down at you, “you have to push, my lady.” her voice quivered, as if she could feel your emotion. you teared up more, “no please- we have to wait for the viscount.” you felt weak, and you faintly heard the doctor shout that you were losing blood.

the nurse looked down again, and seemed firm, “you have to push, there is no time to spare if we wait for the viscount.” she dabbed your forehead again, “you and this baby will die if you don’t push now.”

you cried harder, “i need him here. i can’t do it without him.” you were scared, frightened by all these unfamiliar people. yes they were there to help you give birth to your first child, but you didn’t care, it wasn’t your husband dabbing your forehead or encouraging you.

your vision went fuzzy around the edges and your head fell back into the mounds of pillows that held you up. you could still hear the door push open, shouts being echoed into the room and finally, “let me through-“ his voice.

you heard a clatter of gear hit the wooden floor and you felt relief as he rushed to your side. anthony, still cold with the winter air, brushed the hair from your face, kissing your cheek. he saw how weak you looked, and could see the doctor’s expression.

“you can do it.” he whispered sweetly, “i’m here, you can do it.” he grabbed your hand, clutching it tightly and with his encouragement, you did the one thing you had been putting off.

the nurse over you seemed overjoyed that you were finally listening, there was fear among the doctor and staff that you would bleed out before anthony got there.

you grunted, weak from the blood loss. “push, my lady, push!” the nurse above you shouted, and you grunted loudly, doing as she said.

there was a brief moment of pause, relief that washed over you as you heard a newborn’s cry. you blinked away the sweat, feeling the damp cloth across your skin as you looked over at anthony, who hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. he was smiling brightly, but tears brimmed in his eyes, “you did it.” he whispered, “my lady….” he brushed the side of your face with a hand, and you closed your eyes, exhaustion washing over you.

you could see the light creeping through the curtains. it had been kept dark for you, candles burning just as you liked, even wearing your favorite nightgown. you could feel the pain, that ache that reminded you of what had happened.

you called out to your handmaid, watching as the door opened and instead, in stepped anthony holding the baby in his arms. your eyes softened, and you cooed, “my love.” you beckoned him to the bed, and anthony sat down carefully, the newborn in his arms was peacefully sleeping.

“good morning.” he kissed your forehead, “you have no idea how much i love you. i-“ he faltered, looking down at the baby to compose himself before he continued, “i almost lost you. please,” he looked at you, “please don’t ever scare me like that again. i beg you.” he whispered. he was happy at the birth of your son, but he wouldn’t have been if you had lost your life.

you looked at him, nodding. you didn’t want to say anything, instead looking down at the baby and resting your head on anthony’s shoulder, “have you thought of a name?” you noticed the baby’s fell head of hair and smirked, “looks like he got my hair.” you looked at the baby’s nose, “and your nose.” you laughed slightly, and anthony shrugged, “everyone says he looks like you more.”

his siblings must’ve arrived in from london. you smiled, but anthony knew what that smile was, “you must rest. the doctor said you lost a lot of blood, that you shouldn’t even think to lift a finger today.”

you sighed, “i won’t protest, i am feeling exhausted..” you didn’t know how to feel, your heart had never felt so much love all at once, “my boys.” you cooed, touching the baby’s hair as anthony kissed your forehead again.

[hybbart]

Day 2506: The world almost ends...

Short story below

The last thing Tango could recall was laying on the ground in a warm pool of his own blood, staring up at a sea of faces gnashing their teeth and claws into his limbs.

And thinking, none of you are Jimmy.

Then everything burned away into darkness.

Yet the world did not end.

It reformed itself a pool of indiscernible reds, an incomplete, deafening whisper, and a biting stench.

A barrier draped itself out over it all. The first shape to ever form, outstretched to block out the colours and sounds and smells. The first feeling accompanied it, something soft and structured, dragging the whole world back down.

And Tango thought for the first time, and he thought, that is Jimmy.

The world was swallowed once more, in its infancy before anything could take form. So, it tried again.

This time it created more than just red. Blacks, blues, greens. Yellow. Tango reached out for it, but had no body with which to do so. Trapped by nothing. There were sounds but they were somewhere else where he wasn’t. Skin he did not have itched and burned. If he could only exist enough to reach, but what little there was soon slipped away. The first, last, and only thing this Tango knew was despair.

So, it tried again.

In this one Tango had a body, he knew, but it was a cage. Cold, stiff, unyielding to him rattling it, begging for freedom. He still couldn’t reach Jimmy, only a shadow in the pool. He screamed, but it made no sound, and he went unseen.

So, it tried again.

Everything burned. Not an inch of his cage went unbitten. If he could he would tear it all off. This time Jimmy heard him, but it did Tango little good. There were too many sounds, too many smells, and they all ripped him apart until there was nothing left.

So, it tried again.

And again, and again, and again.

Until finally the world began to settle into place.

Tango peeled open his eyes, staring up at the clouds, body numb and heavy from the pain. It was like his muscles had turned into snakes biting each other every time he moved, but he could move. He could feel, and think, and hear the nearby sound of bird song.

He tried calling out for Jimmy, voice like shards of glass to his throat and ears. It was good enough. There Jimmy was, leaned over him, blocking out the sun. Though it still burned to do so Tango could feel the weight of a hand on his own. He wished he could assure Jimmy that he was fine.

Jimmy watched him silently. Tango reached out for him again, tears in his eyes. “Jimmy.” He croaked, trying to beckon the avian forward. But he would not move. Tango began to sob. “You’re here. You’re here.”

He opened his mouth. It was as though the whole world went silent to listen. No voice came. Nothing but a sickening crunch. Tango’s vision swam, consumed by Jimmy. Old blood poured from his mouth, drenching Tango below, around the mangled remains of beating flesh. No light filled his eyes, not the bright light of the sun or his own inner sunshine he always carried, or even the black flames consuming his wings. They were as lifeless as the dried mould clinging to his jaw bone and the grey of his cheek.

Tango couldn’t scream.

His own heart wrenched him awake. The rest of him delayed, eyes darting and muscles cramping. Something was squeezing his left arm to death until it was numb. His eyes began to sting from the light piercing right into them. A muffled voice filled the air, and a shadow cast over to block the sun.

“Are you okay?” It asked.

Tango was in too much pain to reply. The shadow stretched out far to canopy the whole sky from view. Wings. They were wings. Tango gasped, trying desperately to call out. “J-”

But his eyes adjusted soon enough, and before him was not feathers made of fall wheat and butter. These were a dusty brown, only golden in the light of the afternoon sun. The eyes that stared down upon him were a piercing sky blue and the shoulders were far too broad. New panic settled within Tango’s bones. Too much of his body hurt to run away.

“Oh, good, you’re awake this time.” He said, voice most certainly not Jimmy’s. His grin was too sharp. “I was starting to think you were just gonna kick the bucket.” The stranger shifted, grabbing something far beyond Tango’s view. “Which would be quite a shame given how much of my supplies you’ve used up.”

Some brightly coloured cylinder was held up towards his face. A water bottle, Tango’s brain finally provided after several seconds. Tango managed to move his mouth enough to accept, its straw preventing him from spilling too horridly over himself. Even still, he quickly found himself choking, sputtering up much of what made it into his mouth. The stranger hummed to himself, waiting for Tango to cease his coughing before trying again, this time one gloved hand cradling the back of Tango’s head to hold him up just slightly. The water went down much easier. Only after it was taken away did it occur to Tango it may not be the best to trust the liquid. He was already a soft breeze away from death, what did it matter?

Because you still have to find Jimmy.

The stranger yelped, but Tango ignored him as he tried to push himself up. “Hey, there!” Hands found their way to the back and front of his torso, the only thing keeping him from collapsing back down as the brief pulse of energy abandoned him. “You took at least fifteen chomps, there, buddy, you’re in no condition to be on your feet.”

Tango tried to explain himself, tried to yell at the man. But all he could get out when he said Jimmy’s name was a squeak that tore up his throat. Insufficient. Though he tried to fight back, the stranger laid him back down. Tango tried not to sob. Everything hurt, everything was going horridly wrong, and his rancher was probably dead in a ditch somewhere. He’d follow soon enough at this rate. It was all so pointless-

Warmth wafted through the air. Sweet and achingly familiar. Tango’s head lulled to watch the stranger as he held up a fork towards him, the fluffy pasty dotted with berries and dripping syrup. “I hope you don’t mind, but I kinda live off instant pancake mix at the moment. If you can eat.”

Tango wasn’t sure he could, but he accepted the offer anyways. Even just the smell would have brought tears to Tango’s eyes if he could cry. The bites kept coming until Tango hadn’t the strength to eat anything more. His body screamed at him to both stop and eat, desperate for the food Tango had been denying it and lacking the strength to continue, stomach rolling in that fashion that he knew meant it would all come back up if he tried.

Silence returned while the stranger finished the rest, most of it still there. Anything else might have made Tango throw up from the smell anyways. All he could think of instead was breezy summer mornings, sat at an uneven oak table covered in blemishes that they never got around to replacing, throwing plastic tablecloths over instead. Coffee that became tea that became increasingly questionable flower water that became tea once more. The distant sounds of mooing and much closer sounds of barking, and, somewhere in between, a bird song matching whatever was on the stereo.

Why had they left? They should have stayed on the ranch. He should have tried harder to convince Jimmy not to go, should have put his foot down. When that bridge came into view he should have immediately turned them back around. They saw the ocean, and what good did it do them? Jimmy died, lost and far away from home, and Tango would soon join him...

The next time Tango woke up it was early morning. Something loud had ripped him from his slumber, but he could not for the life of him recall what it was. As best he could he looked around, and found the stranger shutting a cabinet set against a far wall. Tango must have made some sort of noise, because his head immediately swivelled towards him. “You’re awake again.” He said, matter of factly. There was too much energy in his hops to a kitchen. Did all avians wake up at the crack of dawn?

It was almost hard to watch the man, actually. Tango had seen it with Grian, but it hadn’t registered. Because he was a puffball and it only seemed natural, or because he’d never had reason to note it. This strangers talons similarly rarely touched the ground, taking leaps and bounds to reach for anything. Wings casually unfurled themselves to glide him across the room. It was so different to Jimmy, who stumbled his way everywhere, only used his wings for balance.

More food was set in front of him, this time a small bowl of mixed berries. “I already ate.” Explained the stranger while he held out a spoonful. “If it’s too hard to chew I can blitz it into a smoothie.”

“No.” Tango croaked. Easier than last time, but his throat still felt like it was splintering.

The stranger quietly fed him. The sun was quickly rising, but the avian didn’t seem to have anywhere to be. At some point Tango thought he heard the bark of a dog, but no one else came into the sky-lit room. The stranger’s clothes were not the sort one wore when they knew zombies were nearby. His sweater was sleeveless and his gloves were for sport, to keep frog scratching his hands and keeping a good grip, rather than the heavy leather work gloves Jimmy wore. The sort of thing they’d wear on peaceful days at the ranch, not the city Tango thought he was last in.

“So,” The man rocked his head slightly as he put the half-empty bowl aside. “You got a name, stranger? If you’re up for talkin’ of course.”

“Tango.” His voice scratched worse than it usually did, almost incoherent to his own ears. No long sentences, then. “You?”

“Wels, at your service.” He did a small bow, smile widening. “There’s not a lot of survivors out here these days, Tango. You musta come quite a ways?”

He nodded, wincing at the sting in his neck. Had he been bitten there? “We came from the mountains.”

Wels’ eyebrow rose. His hands began moving just outside Tango’s vision, fiddling with something. “’We’, huh? Run into some bad luck?”

“I’m looking.” Tango quickly snapped. “We got separated. He’s here.”

“You don’t sound like you believe that.”

Of course he didn’t. Tango had never been the optimistic sort. It was Jimmy who comforted them when things went wrong, calmed Tango down when he lost his temper. Thought there’d be an adventure to have exploring uncharted territory. If it was Jimmy here and now instead, he’d be just as determined as day one. Tango couldn’t do that, could barely hope to even find a body. But... “If I stop looking, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

The room fell quiet. A rough hand lifted the stump of Tango’s left arm, peeling something off it. It stung, but not as much as the air did seconds later. Tango grit his teeth. It last too long, but eventually it subsided into a dull ache. Even without looking he knew it was swollen and ugly, raw from wearing his arm for too long. It would take too much time to pull on and off without help. Why was he so stupid as to design it that way? Like he’d never be alone?

The dog outside continued to bark.

“Well, then,” Wels sighed. “Guess if you gotta keep looking then I’ll have to keep my eyes open, too.”

Tango strained to shake his head, “You don’t have to-

“Hey, it’s my city. Who better to keep an eye out? Besides,” He stood up, spreading his wings wide enough to block out the skylight, “You aren’t really getting out of bed any time soon, and you can’t exactly get back down without my help anyways.”

“Down?” Tango murmured to himself, turning towards the sunlight.

His vision was still a mess, but he could see it. Behind stacks of supplies and reorganized furniture was a wall-wide glass balcony, doors wedged wide open. Peeking over the rail was the very top of a half-dozen skyscrapers he recognized from the ground.

Wels hopped over towards the open doors, grabbing various items from a table. A bag, rope, a sword- was that metal gauntlets? By the time he’d kitted out he looked like he’d raided a museum exhibit. When he noticed Tango’s staring he gave him a grin and a thumbs up. “Gotta go for a water and medicine run. Be back before the sun sets.” He jumped up onto the railing, but paused. “Say, uh, what’d your buddy look like? In case I run into him.”

“Blond.” Tango rasped. “Lanky, bit taller than you. Long yellow wings. Should be with a big black dog with no eyes. Hopefully...”

Something in the man’s wings tensed, smile falling away. “A canary avian?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“And you- how did you say you got separated.”

“He was gone when I woke up. He kept-”

“Wandering off?”

The blazeborn’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah... What-”

But Wels unfurled his wings once more, waving his hand dismissively. “We’ll talk later, when I get back. You should rest up, get back on your feet.”

With that he was gone.

Tango could feel his heart hammering in his chest, wounds pulsing down his limbs. He turned his gaze up to the ceiling. How on earth was he supposed to rest after that?

[eroselless]

UNDERNEATH YOUR CLOTHES

summary => Request: Could you write a one-shot about Charles’ girlfriend wearing one his Ferrari jerseys or like his merch w his name on it and he fucks her with it on? [2.1k]

[charles leclerc x reader]

warnings: 18+ for explicit language and smut 

note: I’ve had this request in my inbox for so long and I’ve been absolutely itching to get this out. I’m such a sucker for friends to lovers so I changed it a bit to fit with the idea that I ended up rolling with.

School’s out until July so if anyone has anything they want written, send it in :) Hope you guys enjoy this first Charles request! 

You groan at the sound of urgent knocking at your door. Groggily, you pull yourself from your bed and make your way to the door. You don’t bother switching on the lights, neon signs from outside streaming light through your half-closed blinds, making patterns on the carpeted floor. The digital clock above the stove reads 3.27 am. You peek through the peephole, your eyebrows furrowing at the sight of Charles, shifting from one foot to the other. You swing the door open, a yawn pulling your jaw open. You squint at him, the light becoming too much for your eyes.

“Charlie, what the fuck?” you question as Charles rubs the back of his neck. His hair is dishevelled and his cheeks are a light shade of pink. 

“I, uh, I lost my keys and my phone while I was out and I can’t get into my apartment,” He explains sheepishly. You sigh, shaking your head in mild irritation. You step aside to let him in.

“You owe me big time for waking me up at this ungodly hour.” You state, trailing behind him after locking the door. He chuckles a soft ‘of course, chérie’ before heading into your room. He makes a beeline for your closet, grabbing a pair of sweatpants off of his designated shelf. He pulls them on before reaching back and tugging off his shirt. 

“How exactly did you manage to lose both your keys and your phone in one night?" you call from outside, a hint of amusement in your voice. He shakes his head. "Long story," He replies vaguely. 

He makes his way out, switching on a floor lamp by your bed. His eyes are on you as you collapse on the bed with an exasperated sigh. You roll away from him, facing towards the opposite side of the room. You pull the sheet up to your chest, making sure to keep some for him when he tucks himself next to you. His gaze trails over your figure in the dim light, eyes catching the big 16 and Leclerc written across the back of your oversized, overworn t-shirt. He cocks his head to the side, blinking a few times, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Are you sleeping in my race shirt?” He teases, not having noticed it earlier. You turn at the sound of his voice, letting out a sleep mhmm. Your eyes are heavy, threatening to pull you quickly back into a deep sleep. The look you share is charged with something that makes you grow warm. A familiar feeling blooms in your tummy, a feeling not typically felt towards your best friend. He narrows his eyes at you and you can see a fire beginning to build in his cerulean eyes. He stares at your body, probably longer than he should.

You’re the image of a goddess as you lay on your back innocently, hair sprawled around you, almost like a halo. He can’t help but admire the red fabric against your skin or how it clung to every curve of your body. He can see the dark material of your underwear, poking out slightly from under the t-shirt. His eyes settle on the valley between your breasts and how your nipples have pebbled against the cold air. 

A shiver runs through him as he tears his gaze away from you. He rubs at his arms, turning away from you as he does. He clears his throat, setting his watch and wallet on your bedside table.

“Are you cold at all? Do you need another blanket?” 

You mumble a quiet no, reaching a hand across the bed. He watches as you make a grabby motion with your hand, beckoning into bed. He hesitates for a moment, suddenly self-conscious of what he is wearing, or rather, lack thereof. His pants are hung low on his hips and his shirt lays on the floor by your dresser. He bites his lip as he slips in next to you. His eyes widen slightly as you grab his arm, pulling him into you. It’s not like this was an odd occurrence, having years of comfort between each other. But his mind always seemed to wander, wondering how you’d feel without the barrier of clothes between you. He adored how you proudly wore HIS name in support during races. Here, the red fabric of your shirt contrasts with the white of your sheets, it feels so much more intimate. He couldn’t get the image of how good you looked with your back to him, his name sitting between your shoulder blades. 

You can feel him tense up as you settle under him, his head lying on your chest. The shirt is thin enough that he can feel the goosebumps blooming across your skin as the cold air drifts through the sheets. He has to stop himself from letting his hands (and his mouth) wander over the fabric of the shirt. 

It seems to him like you’re drifting back into sleep as he lays wide awake. He feels your hands wander over the large expanse of his back, your touch sending goosebumps down his spine. Your fingers take their time feeling over every mole and scar littered over his skin. You knead his thick muscles, a rumble escaping Charles’s lips as you dip your fingers in every dip and hill. His breath is hot on your skin as he shoves his head in the crook of your neck. 

Your eyes don’t feel as heavy when your hands find their way closer to the waistband of his pants. They settle there for a moment before you decide to slip a finger under it, pulling at it and releasing it. It snaps against his skin, a yelp escaping him. 

He lets out a laugh, quick fingers poking at your side. You thrash under him, howls of laughter bouncing off the walls. He blows raspberries into the thin skin of your neck, only causing you to squirm further. 

The energy slips from the room as you both stop to catch your breath. He’s suspended over you, supporting himself with his arms on either side of your head. The fire you’d seen earlier burns in his eyes as he looks down at you. It burns at the line you’re both afraid to step over, knowing full well that if it burns it away completely, there’ll be no going back. His eyes are locked on yours. They’re dark, their usual blue now as dark as a storming sea. Your eyes trace over the curve of his cupid’s bow and flicker up to his eyes once again. 

The warmth in your lower belly returns as he leans down and presses a tantalizingly slow kiss on your jaw. His hand cups the back of your thighs and you're suddenly hyperaware of the thin and increasingly wet fabric of your underwear. You let out a quick breath as he drags his lips over the column of your neck. The hand that isn’t supporting him slides up your body and under your shirt, gently grazing at your ribcage. You slip a hand away from his body, meeting his under your t-shirt. Sliding it higher, you bring his hand up to your breast. His fingers pinch teasingly at your puffed-up nipples, pulling a whine from your lips. 

“Charles…” you moan out, eyes opening and meeting his as he pulls away. Your eyes meet, the room going quiet again. 

In an instant, his mouth is on yours, tongue swirling with yours. You can taste hints of tequila on his tongue, no doubt the reason why he lost his keys and phone. He moves to sit on his heels and you follow his lips, already intoxicated with them. 

His arm wraps around you, pulling you snugly onto his lap as he settles at the head of the bed. The bulge in his pants is pressed deliciously against your crotch. You let out a gasp as he grips tight onto your hips, moving you over his hard-on. 

“You look so pretty in Ferrari red,” he murmurs, teeth nipping lightly at your neck. The pads of your fingers dig into his shoulders, holding onto him like a lifeline. A smile tugs softly at your lips. 

He hesitates as his fingers drop to the waistband of your underwear. He fiddles slightly with the fabric, mimicking what you had done earlier and snapping it gently over your skin. You felt a gasp get pulled from your chest as his hands began to move under the fabric, pressing into the bundle of nerves at your very center. Your voice comes out in broken fragments:

”Charlie, please…” you beg.

You don’t quite know what you're asking for. For so long, you’d unconsciously ached for him. Your own fingers would find their way into your underwear and with your eyes squeezed shut, you’d try to imagine that they were his. His touch now feels almost overwhelming. You crave the weight of his body pressing you down, the rough pads of his fingers dragging over your most sensitive parts —

“Fuck,” he cries out, hips bucking up into yours. He squeezes at your breast, biting at your nipple over the fabric. You go to pull the shirt off, needing to feel his lips on your skin when he stops you, eyes hazy and glazed over with lust.

“No,” he says shaking his head. “Leave it on.” his fingers now travel downwards, pressing at your clit through your wet panties. You take in a sharp breath, head falling back. He circles it, thumb and pointer finger pinching at it slightly. 

“Need more,” you slur. He meets your gaze, a soft pink adorning his cheeks.

“Need my cock, mon coeur?” You nod instantly. You go up on your knees, giving him the chance to pull his sweatpants just enough to free his cock. It taps gently at your stomach, precum already beading at its tip. You draw your finger over its slit, a thin sting appearing as you pull away. Charles lets out a groan under you, eyes swimming with desire.

You climb off quickly, pulling off your panties and dropping them to the floor. Charles can’t take his eyes off of you as you swing a leg over his lap, his hands going to take hold of your thighs. His eyes float to where your grab him and bottom out on his cock. The squeeze you give him is so much better than he had anticipated. His mouth falls open as you take him in fully, he can’t believe he’s gone this long without ever feeling you all around him. You grind your hips against his, setting a rhythm. 

“t’es une si bonne fille, tu me prends tout entier,” he groans. such a good girl, taking all of me. His hands feel like they have nowhere to go but to the globes of your tits as they bounce deliciously in front of him. He pulls at the hem of your shirt, twisting it and pulling it up. Your tits burst out from under the fabric, nipples pebbling at the cold breeze in the air. He wraps his lips around them, teeth teasing them gently. Your back arches at the feeling, only pressing them further into his face. He was hooked how the fabric of the shirt ripples over your chest and the taste of your skin on his tongue.

“P-putain..” he whimpers, coming up for air. He lets out grunt as he plants his feet on the bed, lifting his hips fucking into you with force. Your lips part as the sound of skin slapping against skin reverberates through the room. His hands go to your ass, fingers digging into the suple flesh as he rocks you against him. Your hands take refuge on his chest, gasping as he hits your sweet spot. You feel so full with him as he continues to move at a steady pace. 

He brings his lips up to yours, groaning softly against your panting lips. It only spurrs you further, circling your hips to meet his as he continued to rutting his hips up into you. You can feel your orgasm nearing, a wave of pleasure coming over you. It envelops you, suffocating you as it crashes down. 

Charles can’t hold it any longer, lifting you off of him as strings of cum spill from his cock, coating his stomach. You sit on his thighs, just beyond the reach of the spurts. He looks incredible, cheeks red, lips swollen, chest heaving. You feel like you’re under a spell as you drag a finger through the warm cum on his stomach and tuck it between your lips. His eyes seem to sparkle, a new flame appearing suddenly in them.

“Can we go again?” his voice cuts through the suddenly silence in the room. With an innocent meeting of eyes, there is only one response that can escape you lips. There’s a grin playing on your lips, finger still caught between your teeth. An astounding answer echoes through the room with no words spoken, it has the two of you tossing around the sheets until the sun comes up. You’re gonna have to wear his name more often.

[siriussslut]

desperate for some kind of part two to the regulus getting head for the first time☹️🙏

my man needs to last longer😞

maybe him getting introduced to a fucking vibrator and he loses his shit

pretty lips, warm mouth AND a vibrator pressed against his balls? he’s gonna need that practice.

- 🦕

i’m actually dripping right now oh my god

warnings: oral sex, blowjob, cum in mouth, vibrator, one playful use of “slut”

masterlist

pt 1, pt 3

you scoop up a handful of pebbles, tossing it at the dark second story window. you shiver in the cool night air, pulling your fleece jacket tighter. when nothing happens after a moment, you throw some more.

a light switches on inside and regulus’ head pokes out. his brows furrow when he sees you. you grin cheekily up at him. since you sucked him off for the first time in his life last week, the two of you have been practically inseparable. you’ve been sucking his cock at every available opportunity, practically drunk on his taste.

he’s tried to return the favor by offering to finger you and last night he even brought up trying to eat you out, but you declined. letting him touch you made it feel much weirder. the two of you were just friends… the blowjobs were totally for practice.

regulus looks behind him like he’s scared his mother will catch him before opening the window all the way, beckoning you forward. you obey, climbing up the tree in front of him and hopping onto the roof. you slide into his bedroom, a wave of warmth welcoming you.

“what are you doing here?” regulus asks, his grey eyes practically bulging out of his skull.

“i think you need more training,” you say, pulling a hair tie off your wrist, reaching up to put your hair into a ponytail.

he flushes red. “what?”

you ignore him, pushing him back on to his bed. he falls over, plopping onto the mattress.

“this okay?” you ask, sinking to the floor. his carpet is soft beneath your knees, soothing the bruises you’ve formed this past week.

“y-yeah.” his voice is an octave too high.

you pull down his plaid green pajama pants, letting the cloth pool around his ankles.

you smirk. “wow regulus, no underwear?” you yank on his hardening cock then fling it back into his thighs. “you’re such a slut.”

you can feel his blush deepening, his skin growing warmer beneath your fingers.

“shut up.” he sits up straighter so he can look down at you.

you look up to meet his eyes. “brought something special tonight.”

“yeah?” you can see the excitement hiding behind his eyes.

you pull the object out of your pocket. it’s a small pink vibrator.

his face turns a darker shade of crimson. “what is that?”

“a vibrator. it’ll make you feel really good, i promise. can i?” you gesture at his cock.

he nods, still eyeing the vibrator apprehensively.

you press it to his balls. before turning it on, you stroke him a few times, feel his dick fill with cum. his tip is almost as pink as the vibrator. you pull him into your mouth, resisting the urge to let your eyes roll back into your skull from his mere taste.

he whimpers, leaning into your lips. “your mouth is so warm,” he whispers.

you feel yourself grow wetter, soaking through your panties. you smirk around his twitching shaft, reaching to turn the vibrator on. you set it to medium speed.

immediately his cock jerks around in your mouth, sinful sounds spilling from his lips. he chokes on his own noises. “holy—“

you tug on his balls, pressing them closer to the vibrator. you feel a tear of pleasure land on the top of your head.

his cock jerks against the walls of your throat, once, twice, before he’s shooting hot ropes of cum down your hole.

his seed warms you from the inside out, and you make sure he’s watching as you swallow. you keep the vibrator pressed tightly against him until he’s gone completely soft, slumping over exhaustedly.

“you lasted only a little longer than your first time.”

he breathes deeply, his face flushed, before plopping his back down on his bed. “so tired.”

you reach down to touch his cheek, watching the way his pulse flutters behind the skin of his neck. “goodnight.”

you hurry home, aching to get off on your fresh memories.

[bpmiranda]

Fix you was 😭❤️ could you do more heartbreak stories? I was listening to Happier Than Ever by Billie and just need to feel that ache

Dead End II (Logan Howlett)

A/N: angst, dbf!logan, 18+ f!reader, age gap, mentions of sexual relationship

Dead End

While you had told Logan you were fine after you had that little spat, you were absolutely heartbroken to think that he didn’t feel for you what you felt for him. You knew you were naive, but you swore he saw some type of future with you. It made you think a lot about your future. You did want a husband, you wanted a family down the line, but if he wasn’t planning on marrying you then perhaps you should get the idea of you and him out of your head.

It had been almost a month since you last went over there. You were avoiding his calls, avoiding having to take the route home that took you past his house. In an odd way, odd in the sense that you didn’t expect it, you found yourself happier. You weren’t totally and completely giving yourself to him. You made time for you and even found yourself to be excited to go on a date with a guy in one of your classes.

Meanwhile, Logan was honestly losing it. Not having you made him feel miserable. He knew he had hurt you and this was your way of getting even, but he never considered the chance that you’d get over him like this. “How’s Y/N?” He asked your dad as they shared some beers at your house.

“Oh, she’s great!” Your dad had told him. “She’s on a date tonight which is her first in a while. I think she was in a little bit of a funk, but she’s really growing into her own person now.”

Those words felt like a dagger to the chest, but he forced a smile and nodded, chugging the last of his beer and setting it down a little hard on the porch, the bottle cracked faintly and he hoped your dad hadn’t heard. “Want another?” Your dad asked he also finish his drink and Logan nodded.

At that moment, a car pulled into the driveway and his heart nearly swelled twice in size at the sight of you. You were grinning, smiling at the boy in the driver’s seat, leaning over and pecking his cheek before you got out of his car.

Logan wanted to punch the young guy.

Your eyes meet his as he’s watching you intensely and you freeze, unsure if you should approach him or not until he beckons you to him with two fingers. It surprised you how obedient you still are with him as you walk up the driveway and to the bottom step of the porch. “I won’t bite,” Logan smirks, picking up his cigar and lighting it as you take the steps up the porch to stand in front of him. “How was your date?” He asked as he toked his cigar and blew the smoke out to his right so it wouldn’t get in your face.

“It was nice.” You say, tensing when his hand comes up to your thigh and he starts rubbing your skin gently. “Logan-” You begin only to be cut off.

“Was he good to you?” He asked as his thumb traced the hem of your dress slowly.

You trembled under his touch, still so responsive to him, and it takes everything to nod. “Yes.”

Logan nods thoughtfully as his hands move up to your hip where he squeezes you, holding onto you so he can pull you towards him. Suddenly, he presses a soft kiss to your abdomen, holding your hips with both hands and he inhales your scent. You gasp, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair as he’s kissing your breasts now, biting them through your dress. “Did he have you?” He asks while he’s standing up and pinning you to the porch railing behind you. His nose pushes your jaw softly so he can kiss your neck and you push on him weakly, but it’s enough for him to take the hint.

“No, he didn’t ask me for that. It’s only our first date.” You say, decidedly putting some distance between the two of you. Logan sits back down and picks up his cigar. “What are you doing here, Logan?” You ask.

Logan smirks and shakes his head. “It’s not all about you, baby doll.” He says before he takes a drag of his cigar. “I was friends with your dad before you and I’ll continue to be friends with him after you.”

It made you so sad that he couldn’t even toss you a bone and say he was here for you, to get you to forgive him because he can’t be without you. Your eyes well with tears and he feels guilty, but he can’t help being mad right now. He wants to hurt you like you’re hurting him. An unnecessary cycle of mean words exchanged and you crying and endless drinking for him. “So that’s it? Everything that happened between us is just done? You were my first Logan, does that not mean shit to you?” You asked as tears rolled down your cheeks.

Logan wanted to tell you that of course it meant something to him, that he can’t imagine being with another woman because he knows they simply won’t compare to you. He wants to take you into your bedroom and show you how sorry he is, whisper apologies into your ear as he fucks you hard and deep. He wants to desperately hear your little whines and whimpering, but he’s hurt and right now he only wants to hurt you back. “Your dad’s gonna hear you.” He says, nodding his head towards the house and you’re fuming because you couldn’t care less about your dad finding out.

“You’re an ass.” You mutter as you walk past him and into your house.

Your dad comes back out with two beers and he hands one to Logan who easily twists off the cap. “Must’ve not been a good date.” You dad comments as he looks back into the house.

“Probably for the best.” Logan shrugs, wondering how the hell he’s going to fix the mess he’s made because, truth be told, he can’t have this end with you hating him.

There were many requests for a second part to Dead End and here it is! I am very much into the angst:)

Dead End III

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies

[darkdemeter]

𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍, 𝐁𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄

◤✘BUCKY BARNES COLUMN | Dark Pirate! Bucky Barnes x Siren! Female Reader ISSUE NO.#...

NOTES: ↳ Yes. Yes... YAAAAS! IM DOING IT! I'm frickin' writing a pirate Bucky! Mmmm! Fuckin' love pirate stuff, I'm just living for Bucky being a hot pirate commanding a vessel on the high seas. WARNINGS! ↳ Pirate Bucky — semi dark Bucky — submissive/soft captive reader — possessive Bucky — SMUT 18+, Minors DNI! — P in V sex — memory loss/wiping via magic (reader affected) — light use of physical and sexual acts to avoid conflict — indirect breeding kink? — pet names — brief consumption of alcohol — I think that's it? SUMMARY: ↳ He is your captain. There is no place you'd rather be than by his side, nothing you could ever want for that is not him. You owe everything, your entire self, to him. Yet overboard and on the tide you sail across, in search for a great and ancient treasure, a song continues to seep through the cracks of your heart and soul… a song so familiar yet unknown. Forgotten. Bucky reminds you yet again that there is no place else for you that isn't beside him, that there is nothing out there.

✎ 4.1k

@identity2212 @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic

↳ BUCKY BARNES TAGLISTS

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  There lays a song forgotten in your heart and soul, distantly faint as the receding tide to the shore. With each spare moment of peace you were given to dwell beneath the lapping waters, you spend a portion of it in search of that song. And what time remains within the falling sand’s glass, you bask in the blue and faded black abyss. 

  Tonight is no different. You could not remember the forgotten song that lulls you tenderly, pulling through skin and scale, calling you somewhere far, much too far, away from the balancing hull above. 

  You could not abandon your captain. Betray the trust between you both. After all, it was he who found you washed atop the rocky crevices of the island, who rescued you from a fate of drying out in the sun’s merciless heat. Who took care of you when there was nothing left of the life you once knew. 

  To break that earnt trust, to betray him, you can’t think of anything far more heartbreaking than that. 

“Time’s up, my Siren,” the voice of your captain beckons you. He calls you to the surface. 

  A sigh ripples through the water and your head tilts up towards the surface, the darkened slits in your milky white eyes shrink away from the moonlight penetrating through the waves. The long limb of your tail sweeps back and forth, thrusting you upwards, skin and scales shimmering brighter as you near the barrier between water and air. The breach pulls a lungful gasp of the night's chillingly crisp air, the only warmth coming from The Avenger. 

  Hair drench-pressed and thinned forms a curtain over your features as you peer up at the looming figure pridefully arching over the ship’s wooden rail. The slivered slits of your eyes grow wider as they focus on him, with a lantern beside him, glass scorched and worn by smoke, it illuminates the upper portion of his body. His white shirt ruggedly wrinkled and loosened to showcase a muscled chest, skin tanned by the sun’s heated kiss, sleeves rolled to the elbow, black ink painted legendary stories over his body in memorabilia. Stories forged into his flesh for all to study and cower in fear.

  He summons you with a kink of his finger and you obey his silent command with an all too eager nod. Around you, the water spirals into a column and rises up, pushing you higher to reach the wooden railing. Aboard the ship, the crew is merry in their celebrations. Another successful day of conquest and battle on the high seas, another amassed sum of gold and valuables to add to hull and reputation. 

  Of course spirits would be high and cheerful tonight. And of course, what was a conquest without the captain’s prize at the end of it all?

  Gathering yourself over the rail and onto the deck, the glistening shine of your tail morphs into two shapely legs, the milky hues of your eyes and other remnants of your true body hide in their human disguise. Your eyes find the hourglass on his opposite side, the sand all gathered in the bottom glass pit. Your captain holds something out for you and you graciously accept his gift, pulling the thin veil of your robe over your naked body. 

  His ocean blue eyes scan you up and down, the left corner of his plush, chapped lips turns upwards. 

“Did you find what you were looking for?” He purrs his question and it brings a cold chill to run up and down your spine, your lungs freeze with what little breath they had at that moment. 

  He turns his body properly to face you, burly shoulders and thick muscles straining the fabric of his shirt. His eyes fold slightly into a sharpened stare of interrogation. 

  “I–I don’t…” You shake your head, breath hitching. “I don’t understand, Captain. I search for nothing that is not you.”

  “Aye?” 

  Your gaze drops to the limb of his remaining flesh hand, the other limb itself brings an uncomfortable yet hazy familiarity, you dare not to look at it up close when in the awoken presence of his intimidating stature. Often you would question its being there and admire its raw and unique - mystical - materials, when your captain lay beside you fast asleep. 

  Wrapped tightly over and under the callousness of his palm, the golden chain twinkles in the pale moonlight, the larger pearl at its centre holstered by binding gold and tinier pearls, beneath the gilded net a more refined shape of a pearl dances on its link. 

  However, your mesmerised pupils flicker up in an instant, brought to the attention of your captain awaiting your obedient answer. A noise is pitched in your throat with the answer but it dies swiftly before its deliverance. 

  Your vision focuses behind him then, up near the ship’s helm, her fingers lace slowly in their hypnotic movement as the fabric of her scarlet magic is weaved together. A warning. You do your best to hide the distressed visage of fear, batting your eyelashes and brushing aside the death of your verbal response, you bow your body forward submissively to his that towers over you.

  When your lips touch his, he almost instantly devours yours in a hungry kiss, the soft caress of your fingers tracing the curves of his chest brings pride and lust to possessively reel you into him, your nude front colliding against the hardened wall of his own. 

  Your hands run their course of exploration up the swollen bulk of his arms until they find purchase and entangle themselves in his dark locks. His own hands ravage your body, kneading the flesh and slim muscle of your hips.

  He groans when you submit to his overpowering will, mouth parting to his eager tongue that shoots forward like a fired cannon, aimed to dominate you in every sense of the word. Your soft whimpers beneath him bring him unimaginable pleasure, the sort that drives him to seek it evermore, with no seeming end to his insatiable hunger for what is you; your entire being. Wolves are known to be ravenous beasts. It’s why he’s known by the moniker as the White Wolf. 

  His tongue fiercely dances over yours, swirling and his bottom teeth tease you by nipping your lip, earning a high pitched squeal from you. He chuckles, the sound rich and dark in its intention. Your core comes alight, burning hotly and the once cool air dissipates as heat courses through every vein and nerve in your body, your mind swimming in the ocean pools of his eyes. Eyes that at times are the only thing you need to be connected to the sea. 

  The prominent tent of his erected endowment presses against your stomach and lower abdomen. You finally pull away, however, in his caging embrace it’s not very far you’re able to move back. 

  “Wait for me in my cabin, little Siren,” he orders gruffly. Your mouth falls agape and you sputter in your rattled confusion. 

  “But I—” Still he penetrates you with that cold stare. It prods at you with radiant intensity, it matches the ominous scarlet glow that now burns brighter now as it moves down the upper deck’s stairs. Your eyes dart between the woman who controls the rolling waves of red magic and the ferocity of your captain’s hardpressed gaze. 

  Your head bounces quickly. “Yes...” 

  A few words of compliance are cut off by a gasp. As you attempt to follow his order and return to his cabin, he halts you within his metallic grasp and pulls you back in, curled lips mere inches from your own, in the clutches of his brazen hold, he commands your attention. Your hands are forced to rest over his chest. 

  He drawls with a warning growl, “Yes?”

  “Yes, Captain Barnes.”

  Bucky nods his head once and lets you go, his eyes flicker between the cabin door and you, silently instructing you to hurry along. Your bare feet barely make a sound over the wooden deck in your traversal towards the cabin, where you would await your captain to claim his prize. Treasure that he greedily gets to have all to himself. The conquest he takes glee in ravishing himself full of. 

  Once you’re tucked inside, exactly where he wants you, Bucky scratches at his stubbled jaw, his recent shave already beginning to grow in again. Wanda approaches his side, the fabric of her magic ceasing at her fingertips like embers passing over into lowly ashes. 

  “That was a close one,” Bucky growls, his tongue that savours your taste runs over his teeth. She hisses with a hushed tone, “With each outing she is given to delve into the sea, my magic weakens, Captain.”

  His eyes roll to glare at the woman beside him. She sighs with a bow of her head, eyes downcast as to not provoke him into thinking her words a challenge. 

  “All I mean to say is that you must reinforce her rules. She’s beginning to suspect far too much, and with each piece of recollection, my power is sapped by her own. Enforce her rules once more.”

  Bucky’s shoulders shrug upwards with an all too arrogant huff, haughty in his conviction. He idly tilts his flesh hand, admiring the piece of you he has wrapped up in his iron grasp. 

  “She will do well to keep in mind her place. She’s intimidated.”

  “She’s conflicted, Captain.” Her words bring about a scowl to Bucky’s face, lips coiled into a snarl and nose wrinkling, eyes thinning. “And it will be a matter of time before she is free of you, and you will be known as the captain who lost his siren.”

  The bridge of this knowledge leaves Bucky in a state of strife. An aspect to his notorious reputation was garnered by your captivity. The White Wolf known by all as the fearsome pirate captain who tamed a siren; held you in the oyster of his clutches. If he did lose you, then his reputation would be suffering a heavy loss. As if to sense his change of demeanour, her hands raise up with her glowing, magic tipped fingers. His nostrils flare and the harsh prestige that made him a force not to be trifled with, he commands,  “Do it.”

  Bucky struts off with a roll of thunder beneath his leather worn boots, swiping up a half drunk bottle of rum and swallows an animalistic gulp, joining in on the festivities of his crew. Wanda observes her captain for a moment before diverting her attention towards the cabin. Her hands fold over one another, and with her palms outstretched, the scarlet hue dances through the air in a thin, cloudy blanket, searching and finding the miniscule gap beneath the wooden door. 

  He pummels into you until your back pushes far into the mattress, eliciting sharp whines and sultry moans from your parted lips, breath caught in a pattern of shallow pants. He chases after his second high as he drives his cock deep into you, the sound of skin slapping skin perverts the cabin’s air and already you begin to feel your core tremble in its own pursuit for its fourth orgasm. With each powerful snap of his hips, his throat chokes out a grunt in his exertions, the girth of his cock sinks deep into the channel of your hot, velvety cunt. 

  “Fuckin’ hell,” he growls lowly with a hiss, “so fuckin’ tight! You feel so good, you’re— taking me so well.” 

  With an exceptionally powerful rut of his hips and he has you on the precipice of screaming, thighs quivering in their hold around his waist, heels digging into the dip of his large, muscular back. Any coherent thoughts and words die on the vine of your vocal cords, only able to procure sounds of pleasure, to chant his name over and over again. 

  “Captain Barnes!” you mewl with fervour. Bucky’s chest vibrates with a husky chuckle. “That’s right, scream my name, let the crew hear you, Love. Let them hear how drunk you are for my cock.” 

  His one palm is laced with sweat, thick and roughened fingers squeeze yours in a passionate display of his dark possessiveness over you. Your captain could be very jealous when another’s eyes lingered on you for even a second too long, many others had suffered the brunt of his fury - weapons ablaze - and you in the end suffered the brunt of his envy with his cock pounding into you for the next several hours. 

  To remind you to whom it was you belong to. 

  His lips suckle one of the erected peaks of your breasts, moaning as his tongue leaves a wet trail around it before passing over to the second to repeat the treatment. Your head turns to the side sharply when the head of his cock splits you open even further than you could previously imagine, hitting a hidden crevice that leaves you without breath. 

  He gauges your reaction, the colour of your eyes blurring, phasing between the natural milky white canvases and the hue of your disguise, your canines and incisors now elongated, all because of the pleasure that pools at the junction where your bodies meet. But for a moment, you catch the glimmer of gold still wrapped around his hand, glimmering metal gnawing and rubbing across his skin, you’re torn between your euphoria and clouded curiosity. 

  “Say it again,” he grunts with a hard thrust that makes his muscles ripple insanely beneath his skin.

  “C’mon, say it for your captain, Love.” 

  Your lips and tongue drag across the flesh of his wrist, the pulse of his racing heart beats through, you can almost taste the rhythm. His sweat tastes strong with his musk, a strong flavour of the salty sea, sandy beaches and gunpowder. 

  You moan softly, almost in a whisper, “Captain… C-Captain Barnes.”

  The effect you have on him is indescribable to him. Never has he been able to put it into words, all he can do is feel it; carnally. The repetitive pounding into that deeper and sweeter spot has your back arching up, the smooth layer of your sweat covered body rubs against his, able to feel each defining muscle, he uses his metal hand to grip hold of one of your thighs, angling you so that you’re spread further apart for him. Your eyes begin to fall heavy and roll back into your skull in your drunken haze, the shimmer of scarlet presently blooms from time to time in them.  

  “That’s right. You belong to me, little Siren. It’s my cock that has you dripping wet.” His thrusts become faster, losing the precise edge he had before, his climax inevitably as close as your own. Your nails embed crescent moons into the skin of his one hand while the other bites into his shoulder. 

  “I’m the only man— fuck! The only man who gets to have you like this. Shit… shit. ’M going to fill you up.” 

  “Please, please… Cap—”

  “Aye, I’m going to fill you up, have you nice ‘nd full until my cum is leaking out of your little cunt, Siren. Fuck… you want that, don’t you? I know you do.” 

  You gasp with each attempt to breathe, each push and pull of his cock strikes you like a match to light the powder keg, the explosion of your climaxes comes as a white hot flash in your vision, momentarily blinding you. Your hot walls squeeze around his large endowment, forcing him to thrust back and forth even harder, grunting hot breaths against the shell of your ear. 

  His seed is flushed into the channel of your pussy in thick, seething spurts that paint your walls that milk him for every precious drop. 

  What he gives makes your lower abdomen weigh a little heavier, a little bit fuller than you were before. His hips grow slower with each dissipating explosion from his tip. His large chest expands hugely with every intake of air to his lungs before deflating as a pleased groan. 

  In his reverie of contentment, having had his fill of his prize - for now - he withdraws his softening cock from your pussy, a moistened pop echoes in the emptiness of your thoughts. Bucky rolls off of you to lay at your side, atop the furs and silken drapes of the bed. Before you can make a move he uses his metal arm to drag you in closer, tucking you into his side, the coldness of his fingers skimming the delicate texture of your arm. 

  The soothing rock of the ship is enough to lull you to sleep, the lids of your eyes inching closer and closer together. 

  “Still deny that you found nothing?” 

  His question only brings your brows to knit together. You shake your head and huddle closer into his side, basking in the comforting warmth of his body. Why on earth would he ask you such a silly question? As if there was anything of importance that outranked him, by being at his side. 

  The answer you give is instant in its resolve, “I don’t understand, Captain. I needn’t find anything out there… I have you.” 

  Your answer, though unable to see it from your position, pleases him and his lips curl into a toothy smirk, long sweeps of his dark brown hair tousled about in his post sex state. You lay your head against his chest to hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat, eyes closing to seek rest and refuge in the arms of your beloved captain. The man that grants you safety, that promises you nights of passion followed by the comfort of his body next to yours. All he asks in return is your loyalty. Your devotion.

  For you to be his siren. 

  Behind the blurry curtain of sleep layered over your eyes, you awaken and by your estimation, only for around an hour or maybe a little more. The morn still hasn’t risen over the ocean’s horizon, the moonlight shimmering and shining over the waves. The candlelight that bathed the cabin with a sensual atmosphere had now burnt out. 

  Breaths of deepened sleep sound next to you, the chiselled sculpt of his chest you’d used as a pillow takes steady form, as he sleeps. It makes you wonder as to what he dreams about, sometimes a scowl is etched into his attractive visage and he becomes restless, leaving you to somehow comfort him. And other times, mostly after he’s spent drawing orgasm after orgasm from the two of you, he finds respite. 

  You take the time to thoroughly yet delicately rub your eyes, robbing the tiredness of its hold to take you once more. With a tilt of your head, hair coming over your shoulder to graze the top of your breasts, his other hand lay out over the bed, residing just over the edge. 

  The mysterious object that somehow you know is linked with you, but as to how or why, or its significance to you in any case, is still laced around his calloused palm. Despite its odd gleam of familiarity, you believe this is the first time you’ve seen it before, however, the tiny voice in the back of your mind says otherwise. Then you must have seen something like it before somewhere. 

  Something deep in the recess of your heart, you have to know. Is this somehow linked to the estranged longing to a home you can’t remember? Does this necklace bind you to the lost melody of times erased from your memory?

  You take caution in moving carefully, inching your way to lean over the sleeping form of your captain, skin brushing skin, you slowly rotate your hips and hoist a thigh over his waist. Heated crimson flushes into your cheeks as you analyse your newfound position, but also from the way his body stirs lightly, still enraptured by sleep yet his body adjusting to your core lining over his naval. 

  Thawed from your frozen idle of panic, you take a moment to calm the racing of your heart that hammers vigorously against your chest, your nimble fingers reach out towards his flesh hand that clings protectively to the mysterious necklace. 

  This almost feels… too easy. You swallow a silent gulp, fingers grazing against his palm when his body shifts, bumping up into yours, you pull your reach back so fast, your hand slaps against his ribs, doing your best to cover up your true intentions. His stills beneath you once more and your shoulders fall lax with a sigh of relief. 

  Again you dare another attempt to grab the necklace, this time you don’t risk breathing, holding it for what seems like forever until your lungs begin to swell with an ache that makes them feel like bubbles about to burst. 

  You work the chain until it's loosened and finally allow your held breath to escape you, the strain to remain silent proving far more difficult than you would have liked. The weight of your body shifts backwards, now sitting up, you allow your eyes to take in every detail of the object in your hands. The gold chain is light, ghostly as it graces your hands, your fingers lace and loop it around amidst the process of your conjuring thoughts. 

  Like a puppeteer pulling the strings you raise the necklace up by its precious thread. The pearl encaged by its makeshift net swings from side to side, as though even when you are completely still, it has a soul of its own accord. 

  Everything you knew about pearls is forfeit, the identity of this one brings the bevel between your brows to form in thoughtful wonder. Therein lies the piece of some puzzle, the missing notes to the melody to which you only recall the faint rhythm of the song. 

  It has to mean something of greater importance. But if it did, then why is your captain so adamant to dismiss your curious nature to find the answers?

  As if the pearl itself is the key, you hear within your heart and soul the song. Voices sing a tone that is calming to your senses, a sweet and endearing lullaby meant for you to hear whenever you find yourself in the loneliest of places, in the darkest reaches of the ocean, the connection will bring you somewhere you call home. 

  But your home is The Avenger. Aboard the ship with Captain Barnes. The man known as Bucky to his closest inner circle. So why do the voices mingling with the tide call you away from all that? With each passing second you become ensnared by the spell of the pearl, the voices of whom you somehow find solace in become louder, the softened chorus of their song echoes a hundred times over in your head. 

  Before you even give pause to reason, your own voice becomes paired with the orchestra of sirens. You have no words, and maybe you never did, all you did need is the pearl to help guide you in remembering the melody. The uncertainty of your humming eases, the unforeseen instructors aiding you, your voice is soft within its deep reverie when it all comes to an abrupt pause, a gasp severing the tune. 

  He has you by the wrist, fingers bruisingly tight and giving you no choice to pull away from him, as he often did whenever he saw you retreat from him without his say so. 

  Bucky’s eyes bear into yours, penetrating the barrier of the necklace, he stares you down the way a wolf does the lonely prey in its path. His eyes match the brooding darkness of a storm at sea, a breed of villainy that threatens those who dare to try him. 

  “Captain…” Your throat bobs with a nervous swallow.  “I– I wasn’t—” 

  Out of pure instinct to not tempt his fury, your hold on the necklace ceases and it gathers in the roughened pad of his palm, large thumb that has caressed your sensitive nub plenty of times now works against the spherical shape of the pearl, brows heavy in their judgement to assess your punishment. His movement is sudden upon the brink of your awareness, a sharp gasp that cuts into the tender muscle of your chest as he plants you flat on your back, hands both of flesh and metal pin your wrists on either side of you until the bruising ache becomes far too unbearable. But you do nothing to voice the level of your pain. He would not hear of it. His newly erected shaft ghosts over your entrance, the beginnings of your slick painting his already drooling tip.  “I’m beginning to think you like breaking my rules, Siren.”

[eupheme]

— common ground [into the fire, part iii]

part i | part ii | masterlist

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, pwp, sex for favors, 1 spank, sub/dom elements, light degradation, use of chems, shotgunning chems, riding, PiV, canon-typical violence and death

a/n: the scene where he complained about doing all the work had me like 👀 (reimagining), so here we go! 💖

“S’that right? Need me to fuck you? Fill up that greedy little cunt?”

His head tipping back as he hums, as if disappointed. Each word exaggerated, with his slow drawl, “Well, I’d sure like to sweetheart… but it seems to me like I’ve been doing an awful lot of work around here.”

“Findin’ this place. Cleanin’ it out. Gettin’ you clothes.” A sigh, before his voice drops, “Makin’ you come.”

“Think you oughta return the favor, don’t you?”

(Or - you take the Ghoul for a ride)

"Fuck!”

You crouch outside as another loud shotgun blast fires - the wooden door next to you peppering with bullets.

This wasn't what you had in mind.

You had thought you'd find a chem station in the next town. A pharmacy, an old hospital. Something somewhat respectable - not standing watch as the Ghoul blew his way through a long-abandoned two-story home.

The layered yelling dies off with each pull of his trigger, until everything going silent.

He finds you there a moment later, still curled in on yourself. A roll of his eyes when he sees you - still unused to the violence.

"It's clear." The Ghoul beckons, "Let's find that station."

You follow him inside, your gaze boring a hole into his back. Trying hard not to look down, nose wrinkling when you almost trip over a set of legs that sprawl across the floor.

A hand pinches at your elbow, keeping you upright.

"What?" He asks, at your expression.

"Did you have to..." You start, as he checks down the hallway.

It's empty - the doors leading to two bedrooms. The bed frames bare and rusted, the rooms already picked through.

A shrug, "They shot first."

"You goaded them."

You could hear him, even from outside. That knowing tone - some kind of warning. A rough laugh, and then the firefight had started.

"We're looking for a chem station, sweetheart." He scoffs, head cocking as he backs you up against the door he just closed, "Think they're gonna share with you like you’re on a goddamn play date?"

"They-" You blink up at him, "They might have."

He clicks his tongue, giving you a long look,"You still got a lot to learn, Vaultie."

A second, before he steps away.

"These weren't those kind of people."

You find it in the basement. A man slumped just outside the cracked-open door, the weathered lab coat stained and splattered red on the left-hand side.

Anything salvageable from above must have been brought down here. Three threadbare mattresses behind a makeshift wall. A long couch that faces a television that still runs, the picture blurry with static.

The station sits along the back wall. A beaker still bubbles over the burner, the smell acrid. Bottles litter the surface - something being made in a batch.

Your mind is already racing ahead, eyes scanning for things you'll need. Too-large gloves shoved on, disposing of the burnt mixture while you search for an empty glass.

Missing how he angles the couch to watch, feet propped up on the wooden coffee table. That ever-steady wariness waning with your focus, the tension in his shoulders easing as he sinks into the cushion.

You're too busy to notice. Sorting the different ingredients, littered across the counter.

There's an excess of toxic soot flowers, their petals papery between your fingers. Opened packages of Med-X, a spilled pile of Buffout. A jar of acid.  

Psycho. Cut with something else, something stronger. You think the Ghoul was right - maybe you had been foolish to underestimate them.

You try to shake the thought away, as you gather what you need. Antiseptic, from your own bag. Three jars of glowing fungus, found beneath the sagging counter. Ground up and tipped into a dusty beaker, the heat turned down low.

"Can you get me some water?" You call from over your shoulder, a jar held in your hand.

There's no answer. Silence, until something hard presses into your back, pinning you against the table.

It feels familiar, the way his hips nudge against yours, and it sends your mind back. An urge to arch - bend low. Mimicking the days before, where you can still feel the twinge of him with the stretch of your thighs.

"You think you're callin' the shots now, sweetheart?" His voice is low, the brim of his hat brushing your head as he leans over your shoulder.

"No," You squeak - caught off-guard, "I just-, I can't leave this until it thickens."

"Mm.” His hum is low. “Too bad. Would've liked to see you try.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks at his words, that rough drawl, even after the last couple days. A thin layer of suggestion in his tone, as he shifts closer - his chest bumping into your back.

Your mind flickering through possibilities, before his voice cuts through.

“Said you need water?”

"Yes. Please," The nod you give is small - you have to start your stirring over, losing your rhythm, "I saw a few cartons in the kitchen. If you don't mind."

"Polite little thing, when you're distracted," He husks, "I'll have to remember that."

The Ghoul makes no effort to move, though. Fingers wrapping around the glass. His other hand gripping the edge of the table, boxing you in. You wonder if he can hear the way your heart thuds in your chest, eyes fixed firmly on your work.

“Where’d you learn to do this?”

It takes you a second to answer - he’d had never offered many questions. Responses that were no more than a couple of words, over the stretch of long hours on the road.

“Uh, my Vault. We were short on hands, my mother was a chemist.” Your words are slow - a still-painful topic, “Used to make all kinds of stuff. Medicine and… and chems, alike.”

People who left were always brought back. Dazed and half-sick from the world above, whatever they had seen. Left at your doorstep to be patched up, if they made it that long.

You always told yourself that wouldn’t be you.

That when you were gone, you’d stay that way.

“Hm.” His tone flattens, “Wouldn’t have guessed. Don’t seem the type.”

“Yeah?” You head turns, catching his shadowed ones. Leaning into the welcome diversion, “What type do I seem like, then?”

The Ghoul’s eyes narrow, an unconscious flick down to your mouth.

“Trouble.” He husks, with a shallow roll of his hips. You can’t help the short inhale that he’s certain to hear, the way your fingers tighten around your instruments.

“Though I’m still workin’ out what kind.”

It’s there that he leaves you. Flustered and silently revisiting evenings before, a familiar anticipation curling low inside you.

The steps creak behind you as he slips upstairs. Returning some time later with what you need - twirling a dented pot found in the kitchen, so you can purify it. Folding himself onto the couch when you tell him it will be a while.

A cut glass decanter salvaged as well, that he drinks directly from. A rough gasp as the bitter alcohol floods through him. Helping himself to the chems that litter the tabletop - before his feet kick up, the hat tipped low over his face.

You think he does rest - a rarity.

You examine him then - as you wait for the water to boil, and then cool, before you can use it to mix with the other components.

Taking the rare chance to do it freely.

In the Wasteland you’ve learned to stay cautious. That you can’t fall behind. That surely he would notice, if your gaze lingered on him for too long.

But here, time seems to slow for a moment. Nothing to do but wait, as your fingers drift to your neck. Pressing into the bruise, as if you could feel the indents of his teeth.

His presence feels the same.

A mark left on you. Something you can’t help but want to touch, even if it aches. A reminder that lingers, and there’s a part of you that wishes it would stay.

It has you wondering, as your eyes sweep across him. Over the long-faded clothes, hiding rough and reddened skin - every inch of him wrapped away.

If you got close enough-

Would you find that he bore a mark of his own?

You make enough for a little over two weeks. Carefully poured and sealed into a variety of small bottles and tubes you’ve scavenged, scraping out every last bit that you can.

In the less-than-stellar conditions, it didn’t turn out so bad. The vials you had seen him buy was a thin, piss-yellow that had made you cringe. Poor work to begin with, and that was even before it was cut with more water.

What you offer out to him is thick - a sheen clinging to the glass as it sloshes, when it passes from your hand to his.

Liquid gold, in comparison.

“Mm.” The Ghoul hums - eyes greedy, as he examines, holding it up to the bit of light.

Before they’re focusing on you. Flickering from head to toe - considering - before his legs spread a bit wider. A hand clapping down against a thigh.

The look you give him is blank. A squeak when his fingers hook around one of your belt loops and pulls - hauling you onto his lap.

“You think I’m just gonna take somethin’ you cooked up?” His brow lifts, hands pinching against your hips, “Not a chance, sweetie. I think we oughta try this together.”

The Ghoul’s fingers slip up then, rucking up the hem of your shirt. His tone turning knowing.

“And I don’t think you’ve got enough in you.”

Your cheeks burn at his insinuation. More than aware, your breath catching as the rough tips of his leather gloves drag across your skin.

“Bet I’ve been leakin’ out of you since last time.” The Ghoul rasps, “Wouldn’t want to waste this, would we?”

He’s solid beneath you. Your thighs splitting on either side of his waist, knees digging into old cushions. Close enough to kiss - if you weren’t so certain he’d bite.

Lost though, on how to proceed. You don’t know the rules to his game. Always keeping you at arms-length - wrists bound, caught in his grip.

Would he let you touch him?

He mistakes your hesitance, his brow pinching.

“Spent enough time starin’. Lookin’ like you wanted to take a ride.” Acid slips into his tone, teeth bared, “Change your mind, now you’ve got a front row seat?”

That knocks you out of your thoughts - embarrassed that you were caught staring at him. Annoyed by his assumption. A scoff, as your hips start to move, a slow roll. Hands coming up to rest against his shoulders, meeting his eyes.

They’re pretty, like the rest of him. Shades of light brown - looking like they’re caught the sun, even underground. Thick lashes, above the deep hollow of sunken eye sockets, the split cavern of his missing nose.

Something that had startled you, the first time you saw him. Now, you hardly even notice. And his mouth -

“I’m not scared of you.” You murmur, watching the way his lip curls in a sneer. A soft sound bitten back as you grind down, feeling how he’s stiff beneath you.

You wonder how long he’s been this way. Hard, from watching you work. Waiting.

Another exchange, though you wish you could tell him it doesn’t have to be that way. You had meant what you said, when you had made your offer - even if you mean it a little differently, now.

Maybe you still could.

“You should be,” The Ghoul growls - hands ghosting over your sides, up to the thin cotton, “If you had any goddamn sense. Letting me touch you like this-”

A hand is cupping your breast now. A hard swipe of his thumb against your stiff peak, your fingers biting down into his jacket.

Your hips jerk against his. A soft moan, when the seam of your pants catches against your clit - leaving you clenching around nothing.

“I want you to.” You confess - catching the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, “Told you, whatever you want.”

The Ghoul makes a rough sound in his throat, watching as you tug the cups down to fit beneath your breasts, putting yourself on display for him.

“Haven’t learned, have you?” He warns, his voice low, “Don’t make an offer you can’t follow through on.”

The pinch of his fingers sends an ache down to settle between your thighs, the hint of pain pairing with your pleasure.

Your own hand wandering, wanting to see more. Sliding against a leather vest, the stained shirt beneath that was once as blue as your suit. Frayed, looping embroidery on the faded collar.

Feeling the warmth of his skin as you tug at the snap at his throat. An inch, and then another, before he’s catching your hand.

Dragging it up to his shoulders, fixing you with a look, “You best keep those right here.”

“You don’t want me to touch you?” You ask, eyes flicking down to the peek of skin at his throat.

“I want these off.” He tells you instead, snapping the waistband of your pants against skin.

You have to leave him to do it. Watching the way his arms stretch across the back of the sofa, as you kick the pants off, then your underwear beneath.

Bare again, as you settle. Fitting yourself against the curve of his cock. Leather and metal kissing your skin as you move against him, until his lips are parted with a ragged breath.

You can feel your muscles clench. The slick slide of your pussy against his bulge, barely nudging at that deep-seated ache to be filled.

“Makin’ a mess, sweetheart.” He husks, his hips lifting to meet yours. Gloved hands moving to curl around your waist - pulling you down to meet him, coaxing a lazy rhythm from you.

“Rubbin’ up against me like a bitch in heat. Should make you clean that up.”

It coaxes a whine from you, as you let him move you. The sound does something to you - the layered approval in his tone, the low rasp of his voice. Not so unaffected as he seems, with how hard he is beneath you.

He must see it in your expression, a hand leaving the couch to grasp at your chin. Flexing up and into you, letting you feel the hard ridge of him.

“This what you want, sweetheart?”

Making you meet his gaze, as you answer. All dark eyes and the flash of teeth, under the brim of his hat.

“Yes.” You keen, “I need you, please-”

“S’that right? Need me to fuck you? Fill up that greedy little cunt?”

His head tipping back as he hums, as if disappointed. Each word exaggerated, with his slow drawl, “Well, I’d sure like to sweetheart… but it seems to me like I’ve been doing an awful lot of work around here.”

The hand leaves your chin to drop down. Slowly loosening a belt buckle, letting it pool on the cushions. Your cheeks heating when you see the slick shine to the front of his pants, where you’ve rutted yourself against him.

“Findin’ this place. Cleanin’ it out,” His eyes are on yours - your breath short as he tugs the zipper down. “Gettin’ you clothes.”

A sigh, before his voice drops, “Makin’ you come.”

You moan at that, a soft sound caught behind your teeth - fingers pinching into his shoulders.

Waiting for him to draw his cock out - fist wrapped around the base. Flushed and thick in his palm, inches away from where you need him.

The Ghoul does grin then, a wicked thing that shows his teeth.

“Think you oughta return the favor, don’t you?”

He’s giving you an inch - seeing if you’ll try to take a mile. A firm handle, still wrapped around a fist, but loosening the reins.

Letting himself watch.

“Seems fair.” You manage, breathless.

“Then go on,” He husks, “Show me how you can take it.”

Your hand reaches down, but then he’s clicking his tongue - fingers fixing back on his shoulders.

Leaving you to lift your hips. His cock slipping against your slick core, your teeth biting into your lip as you line yourself up - the rough head catching at your entrance.

It’s different this time. Sinking down on him, feeling each inch as it splits you open - instead of suddenly filling you to the hilt.

“Fuck,” You sigh, with the stretch. It twinges deep inside you, where his hips fit against yours.

Lifting yourself only to sink back down, his arms flexing beneath his coat as he lets you ride him, your pace slowly picking up until you’re bouncing on his cock.

As much as you enjoyed last time, there was something about this. Fully able to watch the way his lips part, hear the rattling groan when you tighten around him.

See the way his eyes skate across the bruise on your neck, only to drop down to watch the sway of your tits as your fingers lace behind his neck.

“Goddamn, sweetheart.” His hand flattens against the small of your back. The other gripping your hip, tugging you towards him, “You sure know how to ride.”

Not giving you time to answer, before his head is dipping. The brim of his hat knocking back when it hits your chin - the tips of your fingers just catching it. Slipping it on your own head for safekeeping before he can protest.

It earns you a sharp nip against the curve of your breast, before his lips close around the tight peak of a nipple and sucks.

You cry out, chasing the pressure that builds in your belly. Growing even more wet with the slick swirl of his tongue and the scrape of teeth - his cock grinding against a spongy spot inside you as you arch into his mouth.

“Please,” You whine, fingers flexing and then curling. Needing more friction against your clit, where your heartbeat has dropped and settled.

Trying so hard to listen, a whine between your gritted teeth. Your tits glossy with spit when he leans back, giving you a knowing look.

“You wanna come?” He husks - his eyes dropping, as you nod, “Only if you lean back and show me, sweetheart.”

Relief sings in you, as you adjust. Thighs spreading, as you grip onto his shoulder. Leaning back until he can watch the way he spears into you. How he shines, all slicked up, with each roll of your hips.

Your other hand loses its grip in his coat to slip down, press where your bodies meet.

Fingertips circle, a low moan at the much-needed touch. Your rhythm grows sloppy until his hands hook beneath your thighs. Guiding you into a harsh rhythm, each pound of his cock winding you higher and higher as the couch creaks beneath you.

“Come on, cowpoke.” He rasps, his hand cracking down against your ass, “Is that the best you can do?”

It builds - your fingers pressing harder against the slick bud. Whimpered noises that are more sound than words, as his thighs spread, feet planting so he can drive up into you.

“I said come on.” He growls, “Wanna feel you come on my cock again.”

Like before, it feels like the control slips through your fingers. Your own touch brings you close to that edge, but it’s the pounding of his cock that makes you fall.

Your back arching, crying out as your core clenches. Pleasure bursting deep inside you, racing up your spine and down to the tips of your fingers and pointed toes.

The quick thrust slowa into a lazy grind. A low “atta girl” that he grits out, as he feels the way you come hard around him.

Eyes dropping from your face to watch the greedy press of your fingers as you draw it out - until his own hand is wrapping around your wrist.

Tugging your hand away as the pleasure still courses inside you, hips still chasing the last ripples as you ride his cock.

Bringing your fingers to his mouth. Fitting them against teeth and tongue as his lips close around, tasting the slick that clings to them.

It makes goosebumps raise on your skin. The briefest thrill of fear. Certain that if you pulled your fingers free right now, the flesh and muscle would peel from you - leaving only bones behind.

He groans loudly around them, teeth indenting your skin. Tongue swirling against your knuckles, his hips rocking up to meet yours.

Freeing you, only to grasp at your hips - urging you to move faster. A loud slap of skin until his jaw is clenching - and he’s bringing you down once more against him with a rough sound.

Coming inside you again, but this time you get to see the way his head tips back with his snarl. How his fingers bite into your skin as you feel him throb - throat bared as he spills deep inside you with each rough jerk of his hips.

A flare of something flicking to life in your belly, knowing you did this to him. The groan he made when he tasted you echoing in your mind, giving you something to keep.

You make to move when he goes still, but a hand grips at your hip - holding you in place. Keeping you full of him, as the afterglow still glitters in your veins.

His eyes are dark, fixed on you. Taking in your shadowed, half-lidded gaze - sweat-dewed and bare skinned against him. His hat, still perched on your head. Looking like it belongs there.

A hand digs around in his bag. Pulling out the inhaler for his serum. Snapping it together without his gaze leaving you.

Bringing it to his mouth after - sucking in a deep, held breath. Those eyes closing with a low, contented groan.

A broad hand slips from your hip to splay across the back of your neck, fingers digging into your throat. Pulling you down to him - just as his head tilts to press his lips against yours.

Just as you soften, he exhales - the RadAway flooding through your parted lips. A stinging, metallic taste of iodine that makes you shudder, before you realize he’s deepening the kiss.

You lean into it without thought. The ache in your gums fading with the brush of his tongue. His grip anchoring you in place as he takes, licking into your mouth while his cock still fills you.

Leaving you breathless. Letting him, as your own arms wrap around his shoulders to keep him close. Meeting the messy scrape of teeth and swirl of tongue. The sharp taste fading, layered with the whisky and a hint of you that still lingers.

Before he’s pulling back far too soon, eyes dark as he pants.

“Fuck.” He rasps - his tongue tasting where yours had been, flicking across a lower lip. Before he’s looking at the inhaler - shaking it for another use.

“Looks like I might just have to keep you around.”

You make what you can with the rest of the supplies afterward - waste not, want not. An extra stimpak. Swiping the rest of the mentats, keeping the grape and berry ones for yourself. Refilling your canteen with more of the purified water.

The rest of the chems you gather - packing them in a tin. Tossing them his way, a low whistle when he sees what’s inside.

It’s late enough that the Ghoul decides it’s best to stay here, and leave at dawn. Certain that he will catch up to the bounty tomorrow, already sure of two places where he might be offloading the stolen wares.

You don’t mind. The uneasy thought of sleeping in a house with corpses quickly overshadowed by the real mattresses waiting in the basement. Stained but there’s still bedding - patched up blankets.

A fire, that he coaxes to life in the fireplace upstairs. Dinner, roasting over it.

It almost feels like something. A moment you can play pretend - that these walls will keep you safe.

That maybe you could clean it up.

That maybe he didn’t despise you, and maybe he’d want to stay.

It’s a foolish thought, a sigh as you push it from you. Digging a spoon into the rusted can of Pork ‘N Beans you had scavenged - not trusting the look of the skewer he had been tending.

A thumb running across your lower lip, as you chew. Remember how his had felt. Examining the angry marks pressed into your knuckles. 

His shadow crosses over you, then - you have to crane your neck up to see him. His hat back where it belongs, much like your own clothes.

The tilt of his head, as he considers you again. Before his hand is slipping into the bag that slings across his shoulder.

Gloved fingers curling around something - tossing it silently into your lap, before he’s disappearing upstairs to finish his sweep of the house.

It’s golden, in the light of the fireplace. Seems like he’s already done a little looting of his own. A rolled up bag, the tube and needle tucked inside.

And a bottle of the RadAway you made for him.

save a horse, ride a cowboy and all that 🤠💖 (thank you so much for reading! would love to know what you thought if you enjoyed!)

[xxxdreamscapexxx]

The witch in the woods

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word count: 9.4k

Summary: You dreamt of that woman again. The one with hair like dying flames and eyes so green, they almost shone like jewels. The one you've seen ever since you were little. She was leading you somewhere, deep into the forest, where you were forbidden to go and this time, she took you farther than you've ever been, to a place you could hardly believe existed. When you wake and make your way to the woods, you finally find her... But there is a monster after you too. Running for your life, you let her lead you to a temple. A place where her revelations will change your life forever.

Warnings: This is a bit dark. Descriptions of death and violence, descriptions of past abuse and imprisonment... This will feature a slightly dark Wanda.

Masterlist with all my works.

You woke up with a start in the middle of the night, cold sweat covering your body, your chest heaving and your heart beating wildly. You’d dreamt of that woman again. The one with hair like dying flames and eyes so green, they almost shone like jewels. You remember her plush lips forming words you couldn’t quite make out, the sound of her voice drowned out, as if there was an invisible wall between you. It was always like that. You didn’t dream of her every day, you’d gone weeks without seeing her, yet when you dreamt of her, it was always like this. Ever since you were little. You could see her quite clearly, but you could never hear her. She was leading you somewhere, deep into the forest, where you were forbidden to go, but if she ever reached out, tried to touch you, you could always feel that wall between you, separating you, pushing her back. Tonight was the same. You had travelled the familiar path in the forest, the same one she always led you through, until you had reached a strange stone structure, carved into the face of a cliff. You’d never seen that before. She’d never managed to take you this far, before you woke. The structure was built like an ancient temple with an entryway, just large enough for a single person to pass through and though it seemed abandoned, you could see the light of torches flickering there. The woman beckoned you closer, walking backwards, her eyes fixed on you as she passed the two stone giants that stood guard in this ancient place and made her way inside. She stood in the light of the torches, her shadow spilling across the dusty stone floor, as she curled a single finger, inviting you to step through.

You tried, your steps light, as if you were walking on clouds, but as soon as you tried to pass through the threshold, an invisible force held you back. You could step no further than this. And no matter how much the woman held out her hand and offered it to you, you could not take it. She seemed to realize it first and her expression seemed to change, a flash of anger showing, before it was gone. It happened so quickly, you almost thought you imagined it. But when you looked at her, all you saw in her eyes was longing. And then determination, as she extended her hand again. But the more she tried to reach you, the more your surroundings seemed to fade. You tried to reach out for her too, instinctively looking for something or someone to hold on to, but it made it worse. The ground beneath you gave way and suddenly you were falling, deep into the earth and away from her, trying to grasp something or try to break your fall, but there was nothing except blackness… You tried to remember that it was just a dream. That you were safe. You were in your house, in your room, in your own bed and nothing bad could ever reach you here. Those words were engraved in you from a young age. Your mother always whispered them to you, when you woke up screaming. She would always pull you close to her chest, let you listen to the sound of her heartbeat and tell you a story, her voice soothing and low. She would stay with you until the morning and smile, brushing away hair from your face. “You see, Y/N, here you will always be safe.” Your parents said that a lot. They were protective of you, perhaps more than a parent should. Others, less sheltered than you, were better equipped to face life and its hardships and as you grew older you tried to explain it to them, tried to tell them that you needed to experience freedom at least once in your life. The same kind you only knew in your dreams. “You’re simply too precious to us, sweetheart.” Your mother would say. “The world is a dangerous place.” Your father would warn. That’s why you were never allowed outside the city walls, never allowed to play in the woods with the other kids, never left unsupervised to roam the streets. There was always someone there to watch over you. And, though you hated to admit it, sometimes you could understand the reasoning behind it. Sometimes you would just… Forget yourself. Your parents would find you in strange places, would chase you down alleys you never remembered entering, they would call out your name and see you walk right past them as if you didn’t see them at all.

When asked where you were going, you could never tell. You weren’t going anywhere. You hadn’t heard them speak at all. But that wasn’t quite true. You had a longing for the forest. You always felt this pull towards it and no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, it always gnawed at you. Sometimes, you allowed this pull to guide you, but you never got far. Once, when you were 15, they had caught you just at the edge of the woods. Your mother had turned her back on you to speak to one of the merchants that sold his goods in the town square, and when she turned you were gone. And no matter how much she called out to you, no reply came. She never told you how she found you on the small winding path that led into the forest, or how she had thought to look for you there. She just told you to be careful. To never enter the woods. There were creatures that hid among the shadows, that creeped silently under the brush and waited, until they could get a stranger to stray from their path. There were demons too. Evil things made of shadow. They swallowed you into the darkness and made sure you never made you way back home. But worst of all were the witches that roamed. Your mother liked to say witches, yet she always spoke of one. The Scarlet witch. In the tales, she wore a crown made of bones and her eyes shown red in the darkness. Her fingers were dipped in black, for once, she had reached into hell itself, to pull back the soul of a man who had wronged her. She had kept his soul caged into the ruby at her neck, tormenting him with her powers, for she had deemed that hell was too good a place for someone like him. The endeavour had forever stained her, marked her for the world to see. Your mother had been telling stories of the Scarlet Witch since you were little. Always cautioning you to stay away from the woods, lest you fall victim to her too. And you had. You’d always heeded your mother’s advice, always strode to be a good daughter, to show your parents the respect they deserved. But you were no longer a little girl. You were 21 now, a woman, and though you cherished the safety of your home, you felt like you needed more. You yearned for adventures, for something more than the monotony of your sheltered life. You wanted to see the world. Yet, you knew, that your parents could never afford to send you off, letting you travel and explore. Now, when your breathing had calmed and your mind had cleared, you looked around your childhood home, listened to the quiet that surrounded you, looked at the familiar furniture, the cozy fireplace, the warm blankets that covered you and all you could think about was that longing. You wanted, no you needed more. You craved that freedom you felt in the forest.

You got up from your bed in a rush, taking your heavy coat and pulling it around your shoulders. In the excitement you forgot to change out of your night gown and into more comfortable clothes, but as you stood at the door, you didn’t want to risk going back, afraid the sounds may wake your parents, who slept peacefully in the next room. You put on comfortable shoes and had enough sense to grab a bottle of water, before you turned and left your childhood home behind. The small footpath that lead into the woods looked far less inviting in the dark. The blood moon had risen tonight, shining red and somehow eery in its beauty, but even under its light, you could hardly see. Your eyes couldn’t pierce the shadows, but you could hear the sounds of night animals all around you. You heard a branch snapping somewhere in the distance, the shuffling of small feet in the grass, you could hear the rapid beating of wings somewhere above you and the tiny screeches of bats. The night was alive and a part of you regretted that you couldn’t see all of its beauty. When you reached the edge of the forest you hesitated. It was even darker under the branches, you realized and the air seemed cooler too, making you shiver even in your warm coat. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea to come all alone. You could ask your parents tomorrow, come by the light of day. But they would never allow it. You knew well. You’ve asked many times. And they would never let you out of their sight either. Especially if they learned that you had managed to slip away in the night. This was your only chance for an adventure. You knew that. And besides… Nothing had ever actually happened to anyone in the woods. It was all tales, told by your mother to scare you. With renewed determination, you walked forward, keeping to the path you could still make out. It twisted and turned between the trees, a small line that seemed to keep the forest from crowding around you. Branches hung above you like bony hands, their fingers outstretched towards you and the leaves seemed to rustle, even though there was no wind. You’d walked there, heart hammering in your chest for what felt like hours, though you knew it couldn’t have been that long, when, as you tried to keep your steps steady and your breaths even, somewhere in the back of your mind, you heard a voice. A woman’s voice. A beautiful voice that wrapped around you in a calming blanket. “Let me in.” It whispered softly. Gently. Like a lullaby that only you could hear. Some part of you knew to be afraid of this voice. That you should take caution, for you have never heard it before.

“Hello?” You called out, turning this way and that. But there was no one to be seen. “Come to me.” Answered the voice, still gentle, still soft, yet something about it demanded to be answered, to be acknowledged, to be headed. “Come to me.” You knew now, as you stood in the darkness, that only you could hear this voice. That the words the woman had spoken were in your mind and nowhere else. But how could that be? Such a thing was not possible… Not human. The thought scared you more than you cared to admit and you felt cold sweat bead on your forehead. Your hands shook terribly all of a sudden and you started to turn, looking around you frantically. “Calm yourself little bird.” The voice spoke again, that same low whisper and it felt like the words alone slowed down the frantic beating of your heart. “Stay calm. No harm will come to you.” It said assertively. “Just let me in. I’ll keep you safe.” It said, and it felt like fog was wrapping around your thoughts, pushing them back, so the voice can take over. It was almost like you were being hypnotized and you tried to keep your nerves from getting the best of you. God, you tried. But you were scared and alone and you didn’t know where you were going. You didn’t know where this voice was coming from or what was lurking in the shadows of the woods. You just knew it didn’t feel like an adventure anymore, it didn’t feel like freedom. It felt like a snare, slowly closing around you. With a scream, you turned the way you came from and ran. You ran as fast as your legs could muster, your eyes fixed on the path in front of you. You didn’t dare look around you anymore, too scared of what you’ll see. You were terrified. Your mother was right! There were monsters in the woods and you had come alone! Such a stupid thing to do! “It will be all right, my sweet girl.” That same voice rang in your head. Sweet. Lovely. Full of affection even. “Come to me.” It beckoned, that fog starting to cloud your thoughts again. “Help!” You screamed as your mind worked itself into a frenzy. “Someone, please!” You shouted, the force of the scream almost bruising. Your throat felt raw. Your legs felt like putty, the fear coursing through your veins the only thing that kept you upright, kept you moving. Suddenly, the sound of a branch snapping somewhere behind you sent another spike of fear within you, and your head turned, following the sound. In your frenzy you could hardly see anything, only trees and the deep shadows that occupied the space between them. You didn’t bother to stop, too afraid that whatever lurked in the darkness would catch up to you. Your feet carried you forward, even as your head was turned, stumbling over the forest path.

That’s when you felt yourself collide with something, the mass in front of you solid and unmoving. You had only a moment to process that you had struck something, before you were falling, your body rushing towards the ground. You knew that the fall was inevitable and you outstretched your hands on instinct, trying to break it, but in the last possible second, you were stopped. You hung, suspended in the air, your eyes closed, your hair falling around you like a curtain as a pair of strong arms held you up. Whatever you struck had caught you. The person, if it was even a person, you thought in horror, straightened you, depositing you on your feet. “Are you all right?” A woman asked, brushing strands of hair from your face. “You almost fell.” She explained, lifting your chin to get a better look at you, her green eyes scanning for any injury. That’s when you truly saw her. Truly focused on her face and her features. It was her! It was the woman from your dreams. She had the same fiery hair, the same piercing green eyes, the high cheekbones, the same soft lips. “It’s you!” You exclaimed without thinking. “I know you.” The woman looked back at you with the same bewilderment in her eyes. Her brows shot up at the sight of you and her lips parted in surprise, her breath held for a long moment. But she seemed to recover much faster than you and her lips stretched into a smile. “I think I know you too.” She said. “From my dreams.” That smile almost had your knees buckle all over again, but the moment was short-lived as you remembered just where you were and that there was a monster after you.

“We have to leave!” You told the woman suddenly. “There is a monster.” You said, your voice shaking. “It spoke to me. It was after me!” You exclaimed in rush, grasping her by the shoulders. “What monster?” The woman asked, her eyes widening in shock. “I don’t know! I heard it! It was calling me! We have to leave!” You tried to tell her, turning to leave and taking her hand in yours. It was cold. You tried to lead her down the path you were running, back towards the town, but she didn’t move, pulling you backwards towards her, making you almost fall back in her arms. “Not that way.” She said quietly. “Come with me. I know a place where we can hide.” She whispered, as if sharing a secret only known to her. “But the town…” You tried to protest. “It’s too far away.” She said in a rush, already pulling you into the shadows of the trees and deeper into the forest. You ran side by side and you were grateful that you were no longer alone. Your mind raced the whole time, replaying what had happened. You kept coming back to that moment, to that voice that spoke. It had felt like a second consciousness, scratching at the back of your mind, clawing its way in. No, it wanted to be let in. “Let me in.” You heard it again, hissing, as if the thought of it had been a call it followed through the dark and all the way back to you. You screamed, your steps faltering, slowing to a halt as you cried out. “What’s wrong?” The woman beside you doubled back, grasping you by the shoulders and forcing you to look at her. “What happened?” She asked, concerned, her eyes darting left and right. “I heard it again. It’s close. It’s going to get us!” You whaled in panic, your eyes filling with unshed tears. “No, it won’t. Just breathe.” She guided you, pulling on your arm and forcing your body to start walking even when all you wanted to do was collapse on the ground and cry. “We’re almost there.” She promised, urging you forward. Without protest you obeyed, trying your hardest to stop thinking of the monster that followed you through the dark. At least you would not die alone, you mused, the thought surprisingly calming to your frayed nerves. And you had met the woman from your dreams. She was guiding you through the woods, just as you always dreamt, but this time you could hear her, feel her. This time you knew she was real. She continued to hold your hand, helping you climb over fallen trees and under low branches. She walked confidently, as if she’d walked this unmarked path before and didn’t look as scared as you were. She didn’t look scared at all. Did she not believe you? And where was she taking you? Surely, you would have been back in town by now. But you were so breathless from running and climbing, that you couldn’t spare the energy to ask all the questions that swirled in your head. “Almost there.” She assured you, her cold hands helping you up.

The climb up was steep here and your breaths came in rapid succession. You could feel a sheen of sweat underneath your nightgown and you felt so over-heated that you wanted to shrug off your coat. How were her hands so cold still? And why was she not afraid? What was she even doing in the woods in the middle of the night? Before you could ask, she pulled you up, over a large rock, and she helped you to your feet with surprising strength. How was she so strong, you wondered, that she could catch you when you fell, that she could drag you through the woods, when you had no more strength to run. But your question died down, when you looked up. You were faced with the same building from your dream. That large temple, carved into the cliff, with its stone giants standing guard around the entrance and you had to hold back a gasp. It looked out of place here, in the middle of the woods and you wondered how no one had ever seen it or spoken of it before. How was it possible that no one had found it? How come this woman knew exactly where to find it, and why was she leading you here? “What is this place?” You asked her, reluctant to make another step towards it. “Just a ruin.” She said simply, shrugging at the words, trying to seem disinterested. But you could tell there was more to it than that. She was hiding something. Perhaps you suspicion showed, because the woman forced herself to continue. “An alter, built for the old gods.” She said when she saw you weren’t moving. “For tonight, it’s our sanctuary from the monsters.” She said encouragingly, once again offering her outstretched hand. “How did you know it’s here? I’ve never heard of it.” You probed further. You reached to take the hand she was offering, only hesitating slightly when you remembered all those dreams, when she disappeared when your hands tried to touch. She seemed to notice your hesitation and she smiled, closing the distance and taking your hand firmly in hers. “This time I’m not going to fade away.” She said softly. “I’ll never disappear again.” The words sounded like a strange promise and they startled you, and you noticed with suspicion that she didn’t answer your question, but whatever reservations you had, quickly gave way to fear, as you heard the distant sound of footsteps somewhere in behind you. The woman heard them too, it seemed, because she held your hand more firmly and started to run towards the temple, the faint light of a torch already visible somewhere inside. “How do we know it won’t follow us inside?” You asked, your voice raising as you ran faster. “There is no door!” You noted in panic, neck craning back, so you could look in the darkness behind you, trying to pinpoint the source of the noises. “You’ll be safe with me.” The woman said. And it wasn’t just the familiarity of the words, but the tone of her voice that reminded you of the eery voice you had heard in your head. “Don’t worry. Just follow me.” She assured, half-pulling you behind her.

You had almost reached the entrance to the temple, the stone giants looming over you threateningly. Your feet were moving on muscle-memory alone at this stage, as you were being dragged by the stranger. She didn’t seem bothered by that, she kept pulling you forward with palpable urgency. You kept turning back, trying to see who or what was following behind you in the darkness, but you could see no one. Only shadows.   You were right at the entrance, when your feet gave up and you stopped, your chest heaving and your mind reeling. You weren’t sure what to trust anymore. She looked innocent enough, had done nothing but help you in your fear and panic, yet there was something wrong you couldn’t quite put your finger to. Who was she? What was she doing in the woods in the middle of the night? How come you stumbled upon her? Was the timing really fortuitus, or was there more to it than that? How did she know of this place? Where did it come from? Why had you seen her in your dreams, but never in town, or at the market? How come her face hadn’t changed in all the years you’d dreamt of her? Why did she drag you up here, instead of taking you back to the safety of the town? There were too many questions. You felt overwhelmed. “We have to hurry!” She said, as she saw the hesitancy in your eyes. “Just come with me inside.” She commanded, more than asked, grabbing your hand by the wrist. “We don’t have much time.” She insisted, when you once again didn’t move, her grip hardening, and almost painful. “What’s after us?” You asked, your head turning once more to the darkness behind you. It was even harder to see now that you were closer to the light inside the temple. “Who else is inside?” “There’s no one inside. It’s been abandoned for centuries.” She insisted. “There’s a lit torch inside!” You stood your ground. “Someone must have brought it.” “The torch is mine. Only I come here. Only I know of this place. And I cannot keep you safe, unless you step inside.” The woman said, irritation clear in her voice. “Keep me safe from what?” You asked, matching her exasperation. But your resolve faltered when you heard the approaching steps, someone panting, getting closer… The woman heard them too, her eyes darting to the darkness behind you, widening in genuine fear. You had to choose. Trust the stranger, or take your chances with the monster.  “Let me in!” You heard that voice again, gravely and insisting, scratching at your consciousness. Whatever it was, you knew you would not be able to face it. You’d rather take your chances with the stranger. You nodded at her, your foot lifting from the ground to make that final step inside, when you heard a scream behind you. Desperate. Piercing. And full of anguish. “Y/N!” It shouted through the dark and you instantly recognized your mother’s voice. But it was too late. The woman beside you used your momentum and pulled you through the threshold of the temple, her hands encasing you greedily once you were already inside. “There we go. Now you’ll always be safe with me.” The woman whispered next to your ear, holding you to her chest like a prized doll, while your mother’s frame came into the light. “Y/N!” Your mother shouted, running, trying to pass through the threshold of the temple. “Mother!” You screamed, trying to shrug away the stranger, but her grip was iron-clad.

Before your mother could pass, heavy axes crossed in front of the entrance with a deep, bone-rattling rumble, as if the cliff itself was going to collapse on top of you. “Let me in!” Your mother screamed, desperate. She’d been the one running after you all this time. She was looking for you! She was here to help you. To save you! So where had the voice come from? Your eyes turned on the strange woman and when you saw the expression on her face, you knew instantly that this was all her doing. She had lured you here. She’d used her knowledge of you to gain your trust, she’d used your fear to make you go with her, when you should have ran home. And when you had started to question what was going on, she had used your fear of a monster, to drag you further. There was no monster at all. There was only her. “You! It was you all along, wasn’t it!” You screamed, your fists beating against her chest with ferocity. “Y/N, honey, just come outside.” Your mother spoke behind you, her voice a mixture of fear and worry. “Just come out.” She coaxed. And you tried, turning your back on the woman, you ran towards the entrance, but as soon as you reached the threshold, it suddenly glowed deep red, the markings of ancient runes appearing under the dust and your body collided with an invisible barrier. Just like in your dreams, something held you back, but this time, instead of keeping you away from the woman, it separated you from your mother, who tried to bang her fists against the stone axes of the giants. “You won’t be going anywhere. Not when I finally have you.” The woman said with a note of finality. She raised her hands, red mist swirling around her fingers and curling around her like vines. Her clothes suddenly changed. Her simple wool dress and cloak quickly replaced by tight leather pants and a corset of deep red, hugging all her curves perfectly. A cloak of the same deep red hugged her shoulders and flew behind her and her simple walking shoes turned to black leather boots. “Have me? Why do you even want me?” You asked, trying to shake away the shock, the confusion, the utter impossibility of what you were seeing. You were tired and your legs hurt from the climb and all you wanted was to go home. “Who are you?!” You asked in exasperation. “She is the Scarlet witch.” Your mother answered behind you, her face sullen. The woman, no, the witch smiled, a grin so wide and sinister, it was the only confirmation you needed. Your mother was right. “Yes.” The woman confirmed, her shoulders straightening, her chin lifted high. “But you may call me Wanda.” She added, her eyes fixed on you. “I won’t be calling you anything.” You said in a moment of bravery. “I’m leaving!” You insisted. “Walk away from me if you can.” The witch said, her hand briefly gesturing towards the entrance. Her confidence sent a chill down your spine. “Please, you don’t have to do this.” Your mother pleaded. “You can have me.” She offered. “I’ll come with you willingly, just let my daughter go. Please!” “You know I won’t.” The witch addressed your mother, a gentle smile gracing her features. “Why not?” Your mother insisted. “We are of the same blood. Whatever you need from her, I have as well! Just take me. I will come to you willingly, I will do as you bid, I will remain for as long as you want. I will serve you. Just let my daughter go. Please. Have my life if you want it, but spare my daughter.”

The pleading look in your mother’s eyes almost broke your heart and the witch’s features seemed to mirror yours. It seemed she understood your mother’s anguish and you felt hope fill your heart that whatever was going on, whatever unspoken truths your mother and this woman shared, may be the key to your freedom. “It’s not blood I seek.” The witch said solemnly. “Y/N was made for me. My soulmate. My love. My one. No one can take her place.” Wanda explained, longing filling every word. “And nothing and no one will take from me again.” She added, grim determination settling across her features. “Leave us be.” She hissed in your mother’s direction. “You know I won’t.” Your mother responded, mirroring the witch’s response from earlier, steel laced in every word. You thought your mother would charge at the woman, with the way her eyes blazed, but she started to say something instead. A low muttering you couldn’t understand. Strange words filled the air in a language you didn’t understand and suddenly the world seemed to stand still. As if the world itself stopped to witness your mother’s strange words. She spoke them louder and louder, chanting them into the air, her voice rising until it was all you could hear, gathering momentum. For a moment it felt like the temple itself shook with her words, groaning, as if awakening from a deep sleep and your mother chanted louder, but you could tell that whatever she did cost her. She fought to keep her strange words from losing their rhythm, but you could tell she wouldn’t be able to keep it up much longer. As if awakened from a trance, you stepped forward, joining your mother’s chant, giving it strength, feeding whatever spell she was casting. You didn’t know what she was doing, if her strange chant would even work, you just knew it was your only chance of leaving this temple. Your voices grew stronger together and you felt that hope inside you expand, you took a tentative step towards the entrance, then another, chanting the strange words over and over again, the temple shaking all around you, as if in protest. In a moment of bravery, you made the final step. You closed your eyes and believed that it will work, that you will open your eyes and you will find yourself outside and in your mother’s embrace. Instead your body struck that invisible wall again, the barrier pushing you back and making you stumble as you tried not to fall.

Your voice faltered, frustration and fear replacing the hope you had felt. Your mother looked defeated too, her words dying down and turning into sobs. She looked so defeated. The witch did nothing. Just watched it all unfold. Her head was still held high, her expression impassive even after her victory. She looked thoughtful. Almost like she wasn’t fully present, her thoughts straying to something distant. “It’s been so long since I heard those words.” The Scarlet witch said, as if to ground herself. “But you have only a fraction of the spell.” She added cockily. “And even if it was whole, It took 3 covens, 36 witches to imprison me here. You think the two of you have the power for it?” She asked, anger rising within her. “They don’t make witches like they used to.” She growled, bitter. “Their power burned like the sun! And it took every last bit of it, for them to seal the temple.” She said through gritted teeth. “You’re walking on their bones.” She spat at your mother. “You don’t have what it takes. Just a spark of that magic. Pathetic.” As if disgusted with your mother’s weakness, the witch waved her hand and the entrance to the temple disappeared, leaving your mother on the other end. “No!” You screamed, running towards the doorway again and banging your fists against the stone, which didn’t seem to push you back any longer. It was cold and unmoving and solid enough for you to know that there was no way through. “Let me out of here!” You screamed at the witch, your cold eyes turning on her. “Never.” She responded simply. Surprisingly, there was no malice behind those words, no cruelty… Just longing and determination and something about it startled you. “Why? Why do you even want me? I’m no one. I’m not special! I don’t have magic…” You asked, trying to reason with the woman, trying to make sense of what you were seeing, of the strange new things you had learned. “Oh, but you are. You’re very special to me.” The Scarlet witch said with a sad smile. “You were everything to me once.” She continued, stepping closer, her eyes betraying the hurt she felt, when you instinctively stepped away. “But you were taken from me.” She sighed, stopping in her tracks, as if remembering that she was a stranger to you. “What do you mean? I don’t even know you!” You screamed at her.

You felt helpless and confused, you were tired and scared… You just wanted to go home. But what waited for you there? Your mother was a witch. She’d always spoke with such contempt about witches, yet she was one herself. And she had known this woman was after you, she had known she was here all this time, scheming and plotting to find a way to bring you here. She’d told you the Scarlet witch was evil. But she didn’t have glowing red eyes, or black fingers and she had no crown made of bone. She was just a woman… God, you didn’t know what to think! “Walk with me.” The witch spoke after a few long moments. She kept her tone even, her voice low, as if she was worried she might scare you away if she spoke too loudly. She turned her back on you then, walking away without turning back to see if you followed. Her steps echoed on the stone floor as she walked through passages and hallways lit by torches. The air smelled of candlewax and sweet-scented oils. She led you past doors and passages, further and farther into the temple, making you scale winding staircases, until you reached a huge, circular chamber. You could see candles scattered all around and torches mapped the edges of the room. The alter at its center was huge and covered in markings, ancient runes and symbols you couldn’t recognize. At first you thought that the domed roof had collapsed, but as you looked closer, you realised it was designed to be open, the circular opening smooth. The blood moon shone brightly through it, making you almost gasp at the beauty of it. The far wall on the right also seemed collapsed at first, as it was almost completely gone. It took you a moment to realize that it was not this way due to time or disrepair, but by design. The space where a wall was meant to be faced a vast structure below, a stone circle that looked exactly as the alter, only bigger. But the most impressive thing by far, was the giant stone statue of a woman that towered as tall as the temple walls. The sight of it left you breathless and you couldn’t help but speak, despite yourself. “What is this place?” You asked under your breath. The woman turned to you then, her eyes taking in your expression.

“I didn’t lie to you when you asked me the first time around. It’s an old ruin, where centuries ago, people built a temple to an old god. Or, should I say a goddess.” She said, gesturing to the stone statue. “The goddess of chaos.” She explained with a glint in her eyes. “They worshipped her, crated this temple for her and waited for her arrival. Her coming was foretold. She is not born, but forged. The laws of magic would bend to her will. To her there would be no laws at all. She would break them all.” She explained, her voice raw and full of barely contained emotions. “Every coven hoped that one of their own would be the goddess of chaos. Every powerful girl was raised on that hope.” She said thoughtfully. “And witches were powerful back then. Their magic was strong, passed down by the generations, practiced and honed. It was an age of miracles. Those women could do extraordinary things.” She said with admiration. “What they didn’t expect was that a simple girl, with no family or coven, no training and no tutors would be the one.” The woman smiled sadly. “My mother and father died before my eyes.” She continued with a slight tremble in her voice. “I was a child. My brother and I hid under the bad and watched as they were murdered. We watched their blood seep into the floorboards, the pool growing so big, we had to crawl through it to get out. It was cold by then, thick and slippery. We were covered in it.” She spoke, her eyes filling with tears. She looked so broken-hearted, so sad, and so alone and something about that made your heart ache for her. “We were taken as servants by a lord, to show his kindness to the people. But he was a cruel man. He would beat us for every small mistake, would leave us hungry… Sometimes for days. He was especially cruel to Pietro. He would lash him until he passed out from the pain. He’d make me watch as he beat him and told me that if I looked away, he’d hurt him worse.” The memory seemed to take hold of the woman in front of you and a single tear slipped free from her eye.

“One day, after he’d returned from the capitol, he was seething. We tried to hide from him, we’d learned to avoid him in his foul moods, but he sought us out. Made sure we were brought to him. He already had his whip in his hands. He whipped Pietro again and again, telling him to endure it all, or he would turn his whip on me. When even the lasing didn’t make him happy, he threw it on the floor, grabbed Pietro by the neck and started squeezing. I tried to pry him away and Pietro fought with all his might, but he wouldn’t let go. He squeezed and squeezed, until I could see my brother’s face turn red, then purple. No matter how much a screamed for help, or how I tried to fight him off, he wouldn’t let go. I watched as the light from my brother’s eyes started to fade and something inside me broke. I screamed and I let loose whatever I was holding back inside me. I let it flood out of me and tear through our tormentor, his castle, his guards, his family and servants… When I could finally stop, only I and Pietro’s unconscious body remained.” She said, wiping away her teras. “We were lucky that a woman, Evanora Harkness was staying in town. When she saw what I did, she took us away. Brought us to this place. My brother had no gift for magic, so he lived in the nearby town, came to see me often… Eventually found a girl to settle down with, had children of his own. I remained at the temple. They helped me develop my power, helped me learn to control it. But they were fearful of me too. They couldn’t explain how I’d done what I did. And I couldn’t tell them, because I didn’t know. Their magic had rules and constraints, it was complicated in all its power. My magic was different. Needed no incantation, no runes, no herbs or special objects. It simply was.” She shrugged. “It was Agatha Harkness, Evanora’s daughter, that first realized who I was. Who I was meant to be.” She continued her story. “I could tell she was jealous, she was powerful and ambitious and she wanted to make the prophecy come true. She wanted that power all to herself. But she also admired that power, craved it. Her mother and the rest of the coven feared it. They were raised on the prophecy of the Scarlet witch, but when they saw what I could do, they grew fearful.” She said, shaking her head. “I should have realized it sooner. I should have seen the way they looked at me, when I kept breaking their precious rules of magic and grew more powerful… But I was in love.” She said with a bitter smile. “You have her name.” The woman said, turning to you for the first time. Her small, tentative smile was so beautiful, even in its sadness and you couldn’t help but feel for her.

“She was sweet, and beautiful and so kind. She was the only one willing to be my friend. The only one who didn’t resent me for my power, or judge me for coming from a family without magic. The only one who didn’t try to study me, or control me… I couldn’t help but fall in love. Then I couldn’t even begin to tell her of that love.” She spoke, looking in your eyes, but you could see she was picturing someone else in your place. Her tail was heartbreaking and it made your chest ache for her. You didn’t know why it hurt so badly to listen to her story, or why it affected you, but you couldn’t help but feel for her, grieve with her. “The discovery that I could wield chaos magic, that I was meant to take the mantle of the Scarlet witch was not accepted easily. Especially by the older generations. They clung to their rules, blanketed their prejudice in them. They feared me. I would not choose a coven, I could not be controlled, and I would not do as I was bid. That was a dangerous thing. But the younger generations longed for the promise of the prophecy. Agatha advocated for my ascendency more than anyone else. She gathered loyal followers to her side. The covens were divided. But I was also more powerful than any of them. Chaos magic had no match, it could not be stopped… This alter was my rightful throne. It was made for me and they had no choice but to give it to me.” She said, lifting her chin. “When I took my place, things seemed to settle. People were uneasy, the covens still clustered in groups and whispered, but they could not challenge me. Not without cause. For a while I ruled over the covens. It was a golden age for magic. And the prophecy promised more. I was meant to rule the world. Witches would no longer be hunted, would no longer fear for their lives and their families… I was meant to bring about a new age. But I didn’t care for such things. I didn’t want to rule the world. I only wanted you. You were the light of my day, the reason I smiled. You were my whole heart.” She said, her hand reaching out to touch your face, but the panic in your eyes at the gesture stopped her in her tracks and her eyes hardened once more, her hand dropping to her sides.

“You gave me my first kiss under the light of the full moon.” She continued her story. “You nestled at my side, as we watched the stars together. You smiled, as I made the flames in the torches dance for us and you held my hand when the world was too much to bear.” She said gently. “We made love right here, on my throne.” She said seductively, gesturing to the stone alter. “You tasted so sweet, my love. Made the most delectable sounds when I stretched you on my fingers.” She added, watching the way you blushed at her words. A reaction she seemed to enjoy greatly. “You were mine and I was yours. And your love elevated me higher. You calmed the storms inside me, tempered me… You were the reason for every mercy. You were the reason for my happiness.” “We were truly happy for a while. I made you my bride under the light of a blood moon, just like this one. I made you my queen.” She said with pride. “But I wanted more. I wanted us to have a family. Children of our own. And in my happiness, I made it true. You became pregnant. We were going to have twins. But the elders in the covens could not accept it. Making life out of nothing was simply not possible. An abomination in their eyes. And their fear of what else I might create drove them to plot my undoing.” She said bitterly. “They knew they could not kill me, that they would be opposed, so they crated a spell to entomb me here, in this temple. They drugged us, on the celebration of the winter solstice of all times. You, Agatha and all those loyal to us were taken away from me. They dragged the unconscious bodies from the great hall and into the cold air outside. Your belly was so swollen by then. You were almost due to give birth… I watched them slit your throat like a sacrifice and then used it to seal the temple, push it between worlds, so no one would ever be able to find it, or enter it.” She said as fresh tears spilled from her eyes. ”It took everything they had. I watched as the magic drained from them, leaving them nothing but empty shells… But they were willing to sacrifice it all just to keep me in here.” She snarled. “The entire time they thought I was fighting them. I was only fighting to keep you and the twins alive.” She said in a sob. “I watched the light drain from your eyes! I felt our boys struggle within you, their little souls crying. I could hear them calling out to me, begging me to save them. I felt your life essence fade and your soul slip from this world too and in desperation I did the only thing I could. I kept it from passing through. I made sure you would be born again. That you will come back to me.” She said as her eyes examined your face, trying to decern your thoughts. “And you did. I waited centuries in here. I was alone and grieving and quite mad I’m afraid. I roamed the halls, read every book, studied every theory, trying to break free from this prison. That’s how I discovered that on the nights, when the vail between worlds is thinner, I can push past their spell and into the world. The temple would once again appear, just where it was.” She said, like she was sharing a secret. “Agatha found out too. She kept coming to see me. She tried to free me from this place. When the covens found out, they punished her for it. Tried to burn her. Turns out she had a stronger will to live. She took their magic. But even with the combined power of her coven, she could not break the spell, only weaken it. But it’s been enough. I found my way out tonight and into your world. I found my way back to you, my love.” She said finally, stepping so close to you, you were almost touching.

It took you a long moment to gather your thoughts after her story. It was all too much. Too impossible. As much as you tried, you couldn’t wrap your head around it. “How…” You finally spoke, voice hoarse. “How do you know it’s me?” You asked. “I recognize your soul, my love. We are bound. You have a piece of my life essence within you. There could be no mistake.” “Is that why I’ve been seeing you in my dreams?” You asked tentatively. “Yes. I found you in the world of dreams. I’ve been trying to lead you to me all this time. But there was something standing in the way. There was always a barrier between us. I’m guessing your clever mother put a spell on you.” She said, tilting her head slightly. “But it doesn’t matter. You are here now. And we are finally together. Nothing will take you from me again.” The witch promised. The words were spoken without hesitation, without a shadow of a doubt and something about them sent a jolt of fear through you. Did this mean you could not leave? That you could never see your family again? Your few friends… Did she mean to keep you here forever? “Come.” The witch said, gesturing for you to follow her. “You must be tired.” “Where are we going?” You asked, as you followed behind her. “To our chambers of course.” She explained, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Ours?” The word struck you like a slap and you paused in the middle of the hallway. “Yes, my love. Ours. I’ve already prepared a bath for you.” She said, trying to remain unbothered by your reluctance. “A bath?” You looked at her stubbornly. “I don’t want a bath. I want to know what happened to my mother. I want to go home!” You allowed your voice to rise. As much as her story had affected you, you didn’t want to stay here with her. You didn’t know her. You didn’t want to live in isolation. “You are home.” The witch said suddenly, anger flashing across her features. “And your mother is fine. She’s already safely in town. Now come. I’ll explain everything once you are settled in our chambers.”

Her words were so infuriating, you could scream. She acted as if all of this was normal, as if because she told you a story you were meant to believe her, to trust her, to do as she asked… She acted as if you were this woman she once loved, but you had no memory of it. You knew nothing of the life she told you about. You didn’t love her, you didn’t even know her! “Perhaps that’s the problem.” The woman’s eyes slitted, her head tilting dangerously once more. “Perhaps if I help you remember, you will stop fighting all this.” She suggested. That’s when you remembered the voice you had heard in the back of your mind when you were in the woods, remembered the strange words she had used… That she could hear the voices of her children as they died… Could she read minds? Is that what she was doing right now? Had she been doing it all along? “Clever girl.” The witch spoke again, her mouth forming a smile that looked far from genuine. “Stay out of my head!” You shouted at her, but she was already stepping closer to you. It made you panic. You didn’t know what she would do, if she would hurt you and in your fear you did the only thing you could. You turned back and ran. “Where will you go, my love? There is no way out!” The witch shouted after you, her slow measured steps on the stone floor sending another jolt of fear through you. You ran till you reached the large chamber she had led you to, the candles there still burning, the torches framing the walls. There was no way out of this room, there was nowhere to hide, there was only the alter and the large statue that loomed over you threateningly. The resemblance with the woman after you was eery. Her story of prophecy daunting. Was all of this fate? Was it somehow pre-ordained? A story already written and told. A story where you were just a pawn, expected to play its part…

You refused to believe that. But what could you do? Face her? Fight her? With what? You didn’t know, but you had to try. So you made your way to the far end of the left wall and pressed yourself against it, using the statue and the shadows as covers, your breath ragged, your mind racing. The witch didn’t take long to walk into the light, her face unreadable as she scanned the room for your presence. “Come out, and we will do this the easy way.” The woman said threateningly. “Play this game, and we’ll have to do it the hard way. But one way or another, my love, I always win.” You said nothing. You weren’t foolish enough to respond to her and give away your hiding spot. You quieted down your thoughts, forcing yourself to remain calm as you watched her walk further into the room. “You’re only making this harder on yourself.” She called out, her eyes lazily moving over the few places in the room you could hide. “But if you want to play hide and seek… I guess I’ll just have to come find you, huh?” She moved passed the alter, briefly glancing behind it to check her suspicion that there was nothing there but dust, before moving to the right and towards the open space in the wall. There seemed to a niche near it, that you could only spot from your angle, but she must have known it was there. She probably knew every stone that made up this temple. When she reached the niche and confirmed that you were not there, she slowly started to move around the room, her walk casual, almost careless and as she neared you, you knew you wouldn’t be hidden from view for much longer. You had to make a choice. Stay and wait to be discovered, or try to make a run for it.

With a deep breath you darted from your spot and ran for the only doorway that led in and out of the room. You didn’t dare look back, didn’t think whether she would chase you, or simply let you wander aimlessly in the temple, until you finally gave up, you just had one goal. Make it through that door. But before you could even reach it, the door slammed shut and you were suspended in the air, hanging there mid-step, unable to move. “Caught you!” You said playfully, using her magic to float your body to the alter and lay you down on it. She took her time making her way to you, until she was towering above you. Her eyes burned through you as she took you in, struggling against her magic. It was almost adorable to her, that you thought it would do you any good. Before you could say a word, you saw her eyes turn red and the red tendrils of her magic swirled and grew around her. A crown appeared on her head, just as your mother had once described her and she looked equally regal and demonic in this state. “Now, my love… Let’s begin.”

[caestusvulpes]

@oswald-pengu1n-cobblepot asked:

♣️

Music blared through the air as parade floats passed by. Fat Tuesday, 2006, situated in the busy New Orleans streets. Nearing her 14th birthday, Hikari had begged her parents with those wide, dark brown eyes to take a family trip for Mardi Gras. In Texas, no matter where you were, Mardi Gras celebrations were scarce. Between Florida and Lousiana, that seemed to be the tiny festival belt that contained all the Moon Pies and King Cakes of the entirety of the U.S, save a few exceptions.

Galveston was the city that came to mind-- but Haru had made the decision that, if they were to go out of their way to drive to a Mardi Gras parade, they'd go all out. Book a hotel, the whole song and dance. The drive from Dallas to New Orleans was only three or so extra hours than a drive to Galveston would be anyway, so they might as well. Got an amazing parking place due to how early they were, with Masaru's arms wrapped around his daughter in a gentle sway as he kept her close. Too many people increased the chance of losing sight of her-- and she was rather small for her age.

One thing they forgot to check was the temperature.

It was the tail end of February, after all. A frigid low of 47 degrees Fahrenheit, meaning Hikari was tucked in her own violet sweater and folding herself halfway into her father's open coat to keep warm. The parade dragged on, Hikari and Haru catching plastic cups, t-shirts, and beads. Haru folded them in the canvas bag to carry back to the truck, and Hikari waved her hands and hopped in place, until a small wad of white-silver beads came careening out of her right peripheral and smacked her in the cheek.

Now, with the combination frigid weather and high-speed plastic projectile, what would have been a harmless 'oh, ouch!' turned into a resounding, stinging pain. Hikari looked up at Masaru with tear-filled eyes, not quite crying, but obviously in distress.

"Oh. Oh, gosh..." Masaru's mitten gently cupped her cheek to apply a bit of pressure. It took the edge off, slowly disappating in the cold. "Are you alright? They threw it pretty hard."

"'M... 'M fine." Hikari mumbled, turning away fron his hand to rub her sore cheek. Fucking owwwwwww.

"Please keep an eye on what they're throwing, so that way we can avoid anoth-- ACK!" A chocolate Moon Pie smacked off of Masaru's head, falling to the asphalt below. A Krewe-member on a large pink-and-black float called out an apology. Hikari suppressed a chuckle.

"Don't forget t'keep an eye out, dad."

[bunny584]

For I Have Sinned

“Let no one say when he is tempted, ‘I am being tempted by God’ For God cannot be tempted by evil.” James 1:13.

But Father Geto can be. 

Newly appointed Chaplain of the Noble Court, Suguru is a reformed sinner. Sanctity, discipline and celibacy are commandments of his choosing. A devout servant of the Lord. Armored with the Breastplate of Righteousness, the Shield of Faith. 

This should be sufficient enough to withstand temptation. 

Right? 

Pairing: Geto x Female reader 

C/W: Religious themes, dark romance, eventual filth. 18+. MDNI. 

A/N: Holy hell. Anon, you sick, twisted genius. You, the puppeteer. Me, the puppet who writes. This one — this story might be the one. Frothing at the mouth to know what you guys think. Going on AO3 for sure. I haven’t decided if I will keep this long fic series here, but since it was an anon ask its only right to honor them with the first chapter. 

Art credit: @ potchi_jpg on X

Music: Garden Kisses x Giveon (this was on a manic repeat for at least an hour. It wrote the chapter. I implore you to listen and levitate like I did).

CHAPTER I. Hello, Duchess.

Andesite. Dacite. Schist. 

Gorgeous. 

Suguru takes a mental note of the rock formations whizzing by just before he spears the Aegean Sea. Tailwind force trailing his feet in an elegant whirl.

Eh, mediocre landing. He’s out of practice. 

It’s true. Seminary did not allow for too much idle time in between biblical studies. Devil’s playground, and such. 

And it’s not in his nature to half-ass any life endeavor, whatever it may be. 

Suguru deftly levels out in the welcoming waves. Loose-limbed and fluid. Choosing to hover below her surface for a few moments longer. The tail end of his thick, singular French braid undulating behind him.

His body flows in tandem with the current. Swimming deep enough to scatter a pool of Fagri. He instinctively captures one in his large hand — not quite as out-of-touch as he thought. 

‘Make it to shore! If Poseidon calls, don’t answer Him, son!’

The gentle fisherman called out each time Suguru dove off their vessel. Still two or three, sometimes up to five miles from the coast, he’d plunge into the waters. Regardless of her mood, Suguru craved to be surrounded by her embrace. 

To be baptized by her tide. 

Showered with her salt of the earth. 

A dampened smile blooms across Suguru’s terse lips. Oxygen bubbles float about, from the muffled chuckle escaping him. 

His father’s voice rings between his ears. A little less clearly, nowadays. 

He always dove deeper than his fellow seafarers. Without the restraints of gear or protective equipment. Unnaturally comfortable in an element more labile than human nature. 

Suguru’s father mused about his Stormborn boy’s true lineage. 

‘Everyday, I prayed for you. Begged for you. And the God of the Ocean delivered a precious gift. Don’t return to His storms too soon.’

Fond memories, a little yellowed now. Callouses from those days have faded. 

Suguru is a different man. Born again. In a new country. With a new home, a new purpose. 

Even still, it’s comforting to know the world is 70% water, 30% land. And the Great Majority has always welcomed him with open arms.

No matter the iteration of his life, he’ll always find a home at Sea.

“Father Geto!”

What? 

Suguru begins his ascent. He is still by the cliff edge. Not nearly far enough for the Sirens to beckon. 

“Chaplain! Are you out there?”

Not even the saltwater penetrates his ears like this melody. 

An ethereal crescendo. With all the grace and beauty of a summer swan. Light enough to lull stoic men to a peaceful, permanent, slumber. 

More alluring. More disorienting than the songs at sea he’s heard and resisted. Potent enough to drown a warship. 

Who is calling for him?

Suguru chases the lethal sound. Careful pauses at each depth-level. To avoid returning to Poseidon’s storms too soon, as his father would say. 

“Father Geto!” 

Ahh, a voice he recognizes. His alter boy, Noel, at the peak.

Helios is kind, today. Because the Sun kisses Suguru as he breaks the surface. If the Ocean is his home, the Sun is certainly his lover. 

“What is it, Noel?” He calls in between strides to the volcanic edge.

“You have a visitor!” A tremble to Noel’s tone. Suguru cant help the low chuckle that leaves him.

Adolescents are always so anxious. Nervous about the most inconsequential, meaningless things. He was once the same. 

Who could be visiting? His schedule is supposed to be cleared today. 

Suguru laments leaving his clothing at the peak of the cliffside. Tossing a glance over his left shoulder - memories of his past life tattooed in various symbols. His back, covered in a sprawling trident. 

A permanent stain from the life he lived before this. It’s unbecoming of a priest to be seen this way. 

Latching onto the unforgiving rocky edges, Suguru scales the steep terrain in long steps and short holds. Serrated earth digs into his damp palms with each grasp.

He savors the pain. It’s familiar. An indication that he’s spent some time in the only other place he finds unfettered peace. 

“Noel, my schedule was cleared. Who could be—“

“Pardon my intrusion, Father Geto.” You seep into Suguru’s sentence, effectively answering his question. 

Music. 

Suguru nearly falls backward off the ledge he just set foot on.

Rumors about your beauty pollenated the compound for weeks. Anxiously anticipating your arrival. Hushed voices between maidens. Whispers within the walls of parlors. Bellowing gossip between court officials. 

All the words, all the speculations roll around Suguru’s skull. Louder than glass shattering in an empty room. 

They were wrong. 

Liars. 

Not even a tenth of the truth can be found in the frivolous ‘she’s a beauty��, ‘what a pretty face’ and comments of the like taking root in the compound. 

No, no. 

You were sculpted by every single Deity Suguru has ever studied.  

Because the One he has chosen to worship couldn’t have possibly crafted you alone. 

The good Lord is simply without the means.

Suguru will have to repent for that blasphemous thought later. 

…but God granted him eyesight, no? 

Eyes that can see underwater with the same clarity as a cloudless day. He trusts his eyes more than any part of his body. 

And they aren’t deceiving him. 

Flushed and turned away, Suguru takes a moment to soak you in, while patting himself dry. Maybe taking a little extra time to step into his khaki slacks and white button up. 

His wind pipe threatens to spasm with each sip of you he takes. 

Exquisite woman. 

You could convert a non believer in an instant. 

The gentle slope of your nose, those warmed soft, high cheeks deserve to be cherished in a museum. 

That dress. 

The tailor must’ve sewn it to your body in real time. Rolling hills and dips of your feminine curves. So quick to surrender to the ride your frame is taking him on. 

Suguru could fall to his knees and praise the Gods right here and now for their attention to detail. 

“Duchess? I’m embarrassed. Forgive my attire, I wasn’t expecting visitors today.”

Still damp but fully clothed, Suguru walks forward with a steady hand outstretched. Intentionally skipping eye contact with Noel, who would’ve interpreted the glance as anger. The boy is practically vibrating in his periphery. 

Concerned about possibly making a mistake, sure. But if Suguru were still a betting man, he’d bet your presence is driving Noel’s rattled nerves. 

“I’m the one who should be asking for forgiveness!” Unveiling your face to him with a gorgeous smile, you offer a delicate hand that drowns in his. 

Well.

To call it just a gorgeous smile makes him no better than the rumor mill and its grave underestimation. 

The air around him is sliced to a fraction of what it was. Suddenly gossamer thin and inadequate. 

You are breathtaking. 

“Please.” A deceptively even tone and casual wave of his hand. You wouldn’t know that words taste like sandpaper. 

“How can I serve you, Duchess?” 

“You do not have to address me as such, Father. I’m not wed, yet!”

Bunny lines along your nose deepen when you laugh. Heat scorches Suguru’s ears and you both are presently under shade. 

Do. Not. Covet.

“It’s all the same.” With a restrained smile, Suguru peels his eyes away from yours. 

Resting them on his rectory in the distance. He gestures his hands forward. Noel scrambles ahead of you two, undoubtedly to go tidy the chapel (that is already spotless). 

“You’re quite the swimmer.” 

You could assassinate him, you know. 

With that voice of yours. The way it stuns his senses. Far more dangerous now that it isn’t dampened by unrelenting waves. 

Suguru is a strong swimmer. He knows it. Noel knows it. The whole court knows it. Great Whites know it. 

So why is his spine unraveling at its seams when you say it? 

Why is his heart knocking against his sternum like it’s on the run from something? 

From someone, rather. 

“Mmm.” Suguru hums through closed lips. 

Unable to acknowledge the compliment with decorum. He opts for diversion instead. 

“Duchess, if I may. What prompted your visit to the chapel? How can I serve you?” 

The two of you take lazy strides along the cobblestone path. You ogle at a white rose bush that Suguru is particularly fond of. 

“I was touring the compound and noticed the garden surrounding the Church.” 

A distracted response, while nestling your nose in a pretty bloom. Sun rays fanning your face as if to showcase that you’re God’s favorite. A biblical example of how flowers should be enjoyed.

Is it just the roses? Or are you this beautiful no matter the plant?  

“Ahh. Come, then.” 

You’re being indulgent, Suguru. 

Maybe so. But the Chapel Grounds are his domain. The greenery lives and breathes under his fingertips. He adamantly refused a groundskeeper for the garden. Taking pride in nurturing its needy existence. 

Second only to his eyes, Suguru trusts his hands fully. They’re intelligent. Fast. Expansive. 

Definitive. Firm when the situation calls for it, yet gentle. Quick to learn. 

Attentive. 

He’s never gotten a shortage of compliments on his hands—

“Wisteria!” You torpedo through Suguru’s rapidly disintegrating spiral. And he couldn’t be more grateful. 

Regaining a shred of control, he leads you under the oak archway. Draped in curtains of Wisteria. The billowing lilac petals sway romantically in the sea breeze. 

Your lips hang open in a pretty, shocked ‘Oh.’ Eyes wide, gazing up at him in wonder. Adoration woven into those beautiful features slams hot and heavy into his lower abdomen. Remnant embers warming below his belt line. 

Suguru coughs to reset his over-sensitive senses. A futile gesture because you knock him right back down to his knees. 

“Oh, Father…..please?” A soft plea rolls through the slit in your lips. Pulling his eyes down to your pout.

Fuck. 

The rock formation Suguru took note of earlier suddenly materializes in his throat. You coated his honorific in a new tone. Breathy and desperate. As if he is the only person who could satisfy your needs. 

His skin is half a degree away from melting clear off his skeleton under those big, warm eyes of yours. 

“Specify your request, Duchess.”

Both hands jam into his pockets so he can dig his nails into his thighs unnoticed. The searing pain tethering him to this dimension. 

A deep rose blooms over your cheeks. Realizing you hadn’t actually asked him a question before begging. 

So, prettily. 

“May I please tend to your garden? It’s…I’m far from home and gardening brings me so much joy. Please, Father Geto—“

“Yes.” 

His agreement comes well before Suguru is ready. Or, thought it through. 

Should a noble woman be seen doing tasks as menial as gardening? 

Should you be seen without your fiancée on his grounds? 

What will you look like? 

Kneeling over a bed of sunflowers? 

Kneading the soil with your delicate, small hands—

“How can I thank you?” Your lips curl into an intoxicating smile. And Suguru no longer has the capacity to be in your presence. 

“No need, stay as long as you like. I have to take my leave.”

Suguru offers a curt wave and terse smile before spinning on his heel. Leaving you, a work of art, beneath the masterpiece that is his arc of wisteria. 

He barrels down the Chapel corridors at light speed. The pews, confessional, meeting rooms whirl by his periphery in a drunken haze.

Cold water. Cold water. 

The wooden bathroom door creaks and wails beneath his harsh touch. Suguru fumbles with the two-level lock.

He nearly strips down naked. The fire incinerating him from within is unbearable. If there were scissors within grasp he would’ve cut his braid completely off. Because even the familiar sway of his waist length mane along his back is too much. 

You are too much.

Suguru’s fingers unravel his braid and reposition his locks into a tight bun. Off the damp skin along his neck. 

‘Father….please?’

Your voice echoes from Suguru’s incapacitated brain down to his drooling cock. Icy water splashes against face. 

Suguru’s length has been weeping since you first revealed your face to him. Twitching and thrashing with every single word that came out of that pretty, sinful mouth. He’s never been so grateful that today he chose to swim with compression gear, rather than his usual bared skin. 

Are you doing this on purpose?

Wide eyed and demure. But with a voice more beautiful than any siren that has tried to lure him to his watery grave. 

Is this a test?

Suguru’s fingers desperately grasp the golden cross around his neck. Digging the symbol into his palm. 

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners…” He starts. Ignited, smoldering violet eyes staring back at him are unrecognizable. 

They are not of God. 

They are dark. 

Lust filled. 

“Now. And…and at the hour of our death.” Words slip through his gritted teeth. His other hand grips the sink edge. 

‘May I please tend to your Garden?’

“God. Please.” Suguru is the one pleading. To anyone above.

For self-control. For reprieve from the shape of your lips when you beg. His cock bucks against his inner thigh. Demanding attention to the ache between his legs. 

Are you Eve? 

Have you come to destroy his Eden?

Your delectable mounds barely hidden beneath that fucking dress as the Apple?

“Holy…Holy Mary, Mother of God…pray for us sinners.” His vice grip around the cross tightens. Babbling words he hopes can provide him with some restraint, some clarity.

They don’t.

Because his other hand now hovers over the pulsating bulge in his slacks. His manhood starved. Especially having been deprived of touch. Of warmth for longer than Suguru remembers.

“Holy…Mary…fuck.” Blasphemy rolling off his tongue. 

Scorching heat radiating from his hovering palm pierces his clothing. Encasing his cock like a warmed blanket. Enticing him like the soft sex of a woman. Every single muscle is under wire tension. Forcing space between his need and his hand. 

His hands. Don’t forsake him now. He trusts his hands. 

“Father Geto? Are you alright?” Noel’s call from the other side of the door startles Suguru still.

“I’m—“ Suguru clears his dry throat “I’m alright, Noel. What do you need?”

“I saw you run in here and—“

“I’m okay.” Suguru replies, more softly this time. The boy is almost too tender-hearted for his own good.

He doesn’t miss the small sigh of relief. 

“I left your updated schedule on your desk.” 

“And what would I do without you?”

Suguru can almost hear Noel smiling across the barrier. Gleefully padding away. Completely unaware that his presence was the saving grace from disgracing himself. 

Another splash of cold water on his face and multiple deep breaths later, Suguru finally gains enough composure to emerge. 

Curious about the updates to his schedule, he strides to his office. A leather folder awaits with his itinerary.

Saturday: 0800 - 1000- Youth lecture 

Saturday: 1800 - 2000 - Evening mass

Sunday: 0700 - 0900 - Morning mass

Sunday: 1300 - 1400 - Pre-Marital Counseling [CONFIDENTIAL] 

“High court, then.” Suguru muses to himself. Pulling out the envelope with a matching demarcation. Meant for his eyes only. Should the seal be broken en route to the recipient the offender could be sentenced to death for treason. 

And at this moment, Suguru finds that fate less painful than the spear currently piercing his lungs.

His eyes burn into the names written at the bottom of the page.

The Duke Ahriman  & The Duchess-to-Be.

Chapter II

E/N: Hello from [redacted]. I am literally losing my shite. I’m already in love with the plot before it has even fully materialized. And prince-of-the-sea-Suguru? This headcannon has me in a chokehold I fear. Thank you for reading 💋

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Steve Harrington x Reader | Steve is on a mission to get you pregnant, as a thunderstorm rages outside… | Includes breeding kink, unprotected p in v sex (naturally lol) and mentions of drinking wine.

(This fic pairs well with a previous post ⛈️)

You were busy chatting away, all giggly and excited as you told Steve a funny story from work. You didn’t realize his attention had drifted far away from your words by the point his second glass had been emptied. Steve’s dark hazel eyes were focused on your lips, and the blush spreading your cheeks from the wine you were sharing…the pretty sound of your voice as you spoke, the way your animated gestures caused your breasts to jiggle over the top of your dress...

Steve distractedly pulled his fingertip along the edge of his wine glass, his eyes wandering up and down your face and body with a wolfish intensity he made no effort to hide. Steve’s main focus, as always, was on you. And tonight, with the promise of a storm rumbling nearer by the minute, it seemed that Mother Nature herself was beckoning Steve, practically begging him, to ask the question…

“Do you want a baby, (y/n)?” Steve asked. Your eyes widened, a bashful smile heating your cheeks. Steve already knew the answer to his question; you’d both discussed a mutual desire for children quite some time ago. Obviously, the two of you were having sex, and often. But you were still on the pill (when you remembered to take it, at least) and since the subject of actively trying to get pregnant hadn’t been seriously discussed, Steve was still pulling out each time he came.

Maybe it was the alcohol in his system, or the soft, pretty glaze in his eyes it had created, that made Steve’s suggestion especially tempting, exciting, almost dangerous…?

He was serious. And you knew it.

It’s how you ended up in bed less than ten minutes later, a mess of arms and legs tangled together, lips searching, craving one another with an intensity that rivaled the raging storm outside.

Steve had made his mission clear, through a series of slick kisses that tasted like you, climbing up your body from where his face had been nestled between your thighs: he was going to get you pregnant.

Your fingers clutched the edge of the mattress, nails digging crescent shapes into the foam. Steve’s breath was hot against your neck, raising goosebumps along your shoulders, the groans from between his lips thick and labored. The hair spread over Steve’s chest, moist and curled with sweat, rubbed coarsely against your back, stomach muscles taut where his body rounded yours, enveloping you.

Steve took you with both the soft, steady rhythm of making love, and the rough, selfish thrusts of a man wanting only to fuck you. The storm outside boiled over, a burst of white light illuminating the bedroom, the sharp crack of lightning briefly masking your cries of Steve’s name. The sweat on your skin glittered in the sudden light, which flickered like a dying bulb through the bedroom window. Steve dipped his forehead to your shoulder, his tongue pulling a quick stripe across your back, tasting your skin. You shivered at the contact of his warm, wet tongue, your clit throbbing in response to the stimulation.

Thunder rolled close by, vibrating the mattress Steve had you splayed against. His right hand slid beneath you and cupped your breast, groping you gently as his voice panted hot and breathy at your ear. “I’m so fuckin’ close, honey.” The weight of Steve’s balls slapped against your ass, heavy and full. Steve had so much cum to give you, enough to keep you dripping for days.

He exhaled against your shoulder, his voice focused, forehead creased in concentration. “Gonna feed this pussy so good tonight-” Steve murmured, his voice breaking softly. “-fuck a pair of twins inside you before morning…” Lightning erupted nearby, crackling loudly above the room. Steve’s growl of release was drowned out by the sound of the storm, his climax overtaking him as the room around you was splashed in light. Thunder rolled deep and slowly, drawing further and further away. Steve’s groans devolved into a low whimper of relief as his body softly crumpled into you, his wet lips finding yours from behind.

“Think we did it?” he asked, and you giggled a little, rolling onto your back so you were looking up at Steve. He didn’t quite understand, so you explained that it would likely take at least a few months of really trying, timing cycles, charting temperature, etc, before you’d actually get pregnant. “Well,” Steve shrugged, undeterred. “Even if it doesn’t happen tonight-.” He tugged your body into his chest, stroking back your hair with his hand. “-I sure as hell don’t mind practicing…” 💜

[withleeknow]

i think you'll do well with requests bc they seem to be popular in the fanfic side of tumblr! but even if it doesn't take off that quick, at least that'll be less overwhelming bc some ppl can be so demanding....anyways, i hope the best for you in this new journey haha 💝

me personally, i'm not very creative so i'll leave the details to the professionals (aka you) but i'd like to req something from minho's pov. i think those type of stories are SEVERELY lacking in the lee know fics department lol 🥲 it could be a childhood friends to lovers where he is pining for oc but he has a lot of self esteem issues and thinks she's not interested in him. also a big softie and just all around head over heels for her. you can add your magic! (if this is even remotely interesting enough to write lol i just want a minho pov tbh shsjjfjdjdj 😭)

light years.

summary: three times minho bites his tongue, and one time you don't let him.

pairing: minho x f!reader genre/warnings: childhood friends to lovers, fluff, angst; kissing, cursing, so much pining i could hurl. could this have been more edited? oh absolutely lmao but i actually don't hate it sooo this is what we're going with :p word count: 4.2k note: to the first anon, thank you so much for your kind words! :') and i'm sorry that this took me longer than expected. i was trying to figure out what i wanted to write for your prompt but then i got the second request with the song and i thought they would go nicely together hehehehe i hope the both of you enjoy thissss

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / request masterlist / ko-fi

I'm not sure what it means to love But I blink kind of slow around you I'm not sure what it means to love But I'll grow wherever you do What that means, I don't have a clue

I'm Not Sure - Margeaux Beylier

One.

Minho is 18 years old, and he doesn't know what love is, doesn't really care for it at all.

While his friends are out there wrapped in the clutches of young love - the kind that blooms with stolen glances in classrooms and sticky notes passed in secrecy, Minho finds it simply unnecessary. He doesn't understand it whenever Hyunjin whines about not having a girlfriend because they're still young, they've got all the time in the world for romance later down the line. It's not the end of the world like Hyunjin laments it is.

Minho has his own life to prioritize. College is starting after the summer and he still needs to figure out how he's going to cope with the absence of his cats once he moves away. He's got dancing and he's got his other hobbies to keep him fulfilled and occupied.

And above all, he's got you.

You're getting ready for your sister's wedding when it happens for the first time. Or rather, when it doesn't happen.

You step back into the room where Minho is waiting for you on the sofa, his gaze resting idly on the screen of his phone, scrolling absentmindedly through his friends' group chat even though he has no interest in whatever they're talking about. You cough lightly to indicate your return after disappearing into the bathroom minutes prior to change into your dress. He looks up upon your soft announcement, and when his eyes settle on you, he swears it feels like an invisible force has collided with his chest and knocked all of the air from his lungs.

Throughout all his years of knowing you, inseparable from childhood until now, Minho has never seen you like this - all dolled up with your hair falling over your collarbones, cascading over your shoulders in soft waves that beckons him to run his fingers through. The light blue dress hugs you beautifully, the silky material catching the light from outside the window every time you shift on your feet under his steady gaze.

"So...?" you ask, moving your arms awkwardly behind your back like you're not sure what to do with them. "What do you think?"

What does he think?

Minho thinks you might just be the prettiest girl in the world. He thinks he must have been an idiot his whole life, to have spent most of his waking hours beside you and not once has he noticed how truly breathtaking you are. He thinks about the feeling that spreads in the pit of his stomach, sends warmth throughout his body and makes his heartbeat race a million miles an hours.

Your best friend blinks slowly as he savors the warmth that he's never experienced before. It's similar to the feeling you get when you're sitting under the shade of a big tree on a summer's day. It's comparable to the satisfied tranquility you get after you've just finished a hearty meal. A little hazy in your contentment.

It's not until you probe with a pointed Well? that Minho realizes he's been staring at you in silence for a few minutes now. He swallows thickly, willing away the words that he wants to say but they get lodged in his throat. He reckons it's weird to verbalize them, because it's not how the two of you function. You don't often utter that kind of sentiment out loud and he doesn't either. Never have and likely never will.

In the end, he bites his tongue. "You look presentable," is what he settles on.

You roll your eyes, then reward him with a laugh.

Minho doesn't care about love. He only cares about you.

Two.

Minho is 21 years old, and he's gotten used to his heart beating erratically whenever he's in your presence.

Three years flew by in the blink of an eye, and graduation is just around the corner. You've always done well in school, straight A student with a track record that most could only dream to have. You put in the hours, you do the work. You deserve everything that you've achieved.

But it's been a challenging few months for you both, being seniors and all. He's had to watch you struggle to stay on top of your classes while also having to slave over a thesis 24/7 until you were sure it was perfect. It reduced you to tears a few times, and Minho was there to hold your hand through it all.

He held you in his comforting embrace when you wanted to give up. He made you dinner when you were too immersed in your schoolwork to notice that you'd forgotten to eat. He was your biggest support system; if it weren't for him, you don't know if you would've made it through.

It's hot outside today, a little unbearable but not uncharacteristic for June. Minho waits in a familiar hallway, the same hall that he's walked past for hundreds of times over the past few years, the same hall that he won't see again once he holds a degree in his hands in only a few weeks' time.

As he sits on an old wooden bench, he bounces his leg as if he's one of the people in the classrooms that line the hall. He doesn't have to be on campus today, but here he is regardless because you're scheduled for your thesis defense this morning. You're in one of those rooms, probably also bouncing your leg from the overwhelming nerves. Minutes feel like hours; you went in there a while ago after he had sent you off with a pat on the head and an encouraging Godspeed.

He's nervous for you, but he's sure that you'll do great. Years of hard work accumulating in what must be the most important moment of your academic journey. You even stayed up all night last night, refusing to sleep a wink just to revise your arguments and talking points.

Minho's head snaps up instantly as he hears a door creak open, the sound of it reverberating throughout the empty hallway like a gong announcing your return from battle. It takes you a few seconds to step out of the room and into his line of sight. He can't see you very well with all this distance between you, but he can still make out the way your frame is visibly shaking with every step you take. He rises to his feet, and you break into a sprint.

He opens his arms wide - a hug of consolation or congratulations, he doesn't know yet - but he still can't seem to brace himself for the collision. You run straight into his embrace, your warms wounding around his middle tightly. Minho feels your tremors, hears your sniffles from where you're pressing your cheek against his shoulder.

"How did it go?" he asks gently.

You start crying then, and he doesn't know if the tears that his shirt is soaking up are those of joy or of grief, but he holds you through it anyway. He swears he can feel every single beat of your heart, hammering so wildly as you're pressed against him like you could sink into him if only you'd push just a little bit more.

"I passed," you say in between sobs. "I got an A."

Minho heaves out the breath that he's been holding ever since you entered that classroom, but it's not like he had any doubt about it to begin with. He hugs you tighter than he's ever had before, and he loves you just the same.

You two must look so dramatic, all wrapped up together in your own little bubble, but who the fuck cares? Although, when another student passes by and coughs, you do break away from him, a little embarrassed for a second.

Even with your hair all mussed up and your flushed cheeks stained with tears, he still thinks you look the same as you did when you were 18 at your sister's wedding. The prettiest girl in the world.

Minho wipes away the wetness on your face with his sleeves, then swipes with gentle thumbs at the moisture that's gathered along your lash lines.

"Holy fucking shit," you breathe out, your shoulders sagging with evident relief, so much more relaxed now that you've done it. "I can't believe it's finally over."

Your best friend can't entirely agree, because he's always believed in you. He's had faith in you since the beginning, since you were mere children laughing and crying together on the playground. You were meant to do great things, this was always crystal clear to Minho.

I love you, he thinks as he smooths a hand over your hair, his chest swelling with nothing but pride and fondness for you. You did so well.

But it's not what he ends up telling you. He swallows it down, washes it away with a dose of regret and longing. He's still not the type to express sappy sentiments, and he's grown accustomed to adoring you only in secret.

"Let's go," he says softly. "I'll buy you dinner."

Minho is still young, he's still got his whole life ahead of him, but he knows what love is now. He knows that it's you.

Three.

Minho is 24 years old, and he finds it hard to make peace with the fact that you're starting to get out there, that you're finally going on dates now that academics aren't taking up most of your time anymore.

To be fair, none of the guys you've seen have been graced with a second date, and Minho thanks his lucky stars whenever you return from a night out and text him a simple Not it. He knows that it wasn't your decision in the first place, that your mom and your sister have been setting you up on blind dates because they want to see you bring a boyfriend home.

You complain about it all the time, whining about how you're not interested but your family is adamant on it. Minho is well aware, and yet, there's a part of him that's a little shaken, because what if? What if the universe miscalculates and the stars misalign just enough in his misfortune for you to cross paths with someone who's absolutely perfect for you? Someone who's a good man that can give you what you've always deserved to have.

He really doesn't know what he would do if that happens. When it happens?

He doesn't know why you're here tonight either, sitting on a chair on the other side of his kitchen island in a pretty dress when you're supposed to be going on a date in half an hour. The guy apparently works for a big record label, some producer that your sister knows through a friend of a friend.

You look indifferent, kind of bored, as you watch Minho makes dinner for himself. "You seem miserable," he comments, taking a quick break from chopping vegetables to glance up at you. You do look a bit miserable, but you're still the most beautiful in his eyes.

You throw your head back and groan loudly, "Because I am. God, I don't know why they keep making me do this. These guys always give nothing."

"Please elaborate."

"They're all boring suits with tedious routines." you say, and as absentminded as your tone is, it sounds a little pointed to Minho's ears. "They don't make me laugh."

Do they not make you laugh, or do they not make you laugh more than I can?

"Then don't go," he snickers, though there's no humor in his voice at all. "These guys sound like duds. Just tell your sister to fuck off."

"Do you mean that? Do you really think I shouldn't go?"

And there's something in your gaze, something so suddenly expectant in the way you're looking at him that makes Minho wonder. If he says yes, would you listen? Would you stay here with him? Would you stay here for him?

I'm serious. Don't go. You can have this and I'll make myself ramyeon. Just be here with me.

You both stare at each other on either side of his kitchen island for an infinite stretch of time. He feels like your eyes are trying to tell him something that he can't decipher, as if they're sending him signals in a language that he never learned how to read.

For a second there, he indulges himself. He pretends that you're only asking because you want to hear him say it. That you want him to put up a fight and not let you go.

But he bites his tongue because it's become a bad habit. A habit that he can't shake because he simply doesn't have the courage to do so. Because if you stay here tonight, looking like that under the cozy lighting of his living room, he might just spill his secrets and he wouldn't be able to take it when reality comes crashing down and you end up telling him that you've never felt the same way.

"I'm kidding," he musters up the words, and tries to plaster on a smile for your sake, even though he's not sure if you really believe it. "You're dressed up anyway. Go and get a free fancy dinner, if anything."

Minho knows what love is, but his love has always lived in the shadows, his longing has only existed in the dark that it terrifies him just thinking about it meeting the light.

Four.

Minho is 26 years old, and he's been a coward for the better part of a decade.

Maybe he's loved you for even longer, but he has spent the past eight years head over heels in love with you, and not once has he done anything about it. Never been able to gather enough courage to ask you out, never even hinted at his feelings for you. He loves you from his place by your side and yet, you've never known.

He loves you the most, but he loves you in the worst way that a person can love another - he loves you in silence.

You're the prettiest girl in the world, and Lee Minho is a pathetic coward.

All these years, he's kept quiet and for what? There's always a spot reserved for him right next to you and yet, it feels like he can only watch you from the sidelines, far away from where it really matters, because he doesn't think he can fit into your life the way he truly wants. You taught him what love was, and love, to Minho, is unattainable. Something he can spend the rest of his life yearning for but won't ever have.

Love hurts. Sometimes, all love does is hurt.

"I would've taken you to a nice restaurant if you asked, you know," he says, putting a chocolate cupcake on the coffee table in front of you before he sits down next to you on the fluffy carpet of your living room. He pulls out a candle next, placing it right in the center of the sweet treat.

Your gaze follows his hand has he lights the candle, your eyes glinting with excitement as though you're a child again and your favorite day of the year is still your birthday. The tiny flame curves and bends, dancing to a rhythm that looks like only you can hear. You watch the candle like it's magic, while Minho just watches you, thinking the same thing.

He watches as you close your eyes and clasp your hands together for the theatrics, then you blow out the flame seconds later with a swift breath.

You turn to him with a smile, "I don't need a nice restaurant. This is perfect."

He blinks, and there's that warmth simmering in his belly again. He first felt it when he was 18, and he feels it now. He feels it almost every moment that he spends with you, and he reckons it's only reasonable, because you're his home personified and love can still be beautiful even when it hurts. There's his heart racing again, but that's nothing new to Minho.

He muses over your words. Perfect. Just one simple word is enough to get his hopes up in a way that it really shouldn't.

Your definition of a birthday well spent is in your cozy apartment, eating takeout pizza with your best friend. Perfect, to you, is him baking you a singular chocolate cupcake upon your request and being with him within these four walls, where his fingers occasionally brush yours when you sit next to each other.

Oh, Minho would follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked him to.

He clears his throat lightly, breaking away from your gaze that's full of gratitude and childlike wonder. "What did you wish for?"

"I'm not gonna tell you. It won't come true then."

Wishes don't come true anyway, he thinks, but obviously he won't say it out loud to you, and on your birthday no less. Instead, he diverts his attention to the cupcake, subconsciously tonguing his cheek as he takes a small chunk of the sweet and offers it to you.

You let him feed you even though your eyes are narrowed. "What was that look?" you ask.

"What look?"

"You had a look."

"No, I didn't," Minho insists.

"Yes, you did. You wanted to say something, didn't you?"

He shrugs, popping a piece of cupcake into his own mouth. The answer is yes, he did want to say something, but if you want to get technical about it, then he's wanted to say something for years now. He asks you the same thing every birthday, What did you wish for?, and you would refuse to tell him every time.

"Wishes don't come true," he verbalizes it this time, with a voice that's lighthearted on purpose despite knowing that you wouldn't take it that seriously either way.

You roll your eyes. "Now you're just being pessimistic."

"What? I'm speaking from experience."

"You've never had a birthday wish come true?"

"My birthday wishes haven't come true since I was 18."

Minho feels your eyes on the side of his face, and when you remain quiet for a beat too long, he turns his attention back to you. "What?"

"How do you know they didn't come true?"

"Because..."

Because you've been my wish for almost a decade now. I didn't use to believe in wishes but I always believed in you. Every year, I wish for you to look at me the way I look at you, but it never comes true. Every year, I wish that you would love me back, not just as a friend, but you never do. You are my wish, but you're also the very reason why I know wishes don't come true.

Then he's laughing, but nothing is remotely funny about this. It's your birthday and suddenly all he can think about is how much it stings to be reminded that you're the only thing he'll ever wish for, and still, maybe this simple wish is absurd enough that the universe will never grant him what he truly wants.

"Never mind," he says. "This whole thing is silly."

There he goes, biting his tongue again. Coward.

"No, what were you going to say?"

"You're so bossy today," Minho pretends to complain.

"It's my birthday. Tell me," you press on, and suddenly he can't find any appreciation for your stubbornness that he's adored all his life. You keep your eyes fixed on him when all he wants to do is hide from you.

What is he supposed to say to you? What can he even say? That he's spent more than a third of his life hopelessly enamored with you? That the second he utters any of this out loud, he knows it will be the end of your friendship?

And Minho can't afford to lose you. Even if it hurts, he would rather let love hurt than live in the absence of you.

"Eat your cupcake," he says instead. "I'll get some ice cream."

He makes a move to get up, and the bad habit further cements its place in his subconscious. He's always running away from you when you're supposed to be the person he can be the most open with. This is how he knows he doesn't deserve you.

But you reach for his wrist and it makes him still, the feeling of your hand sliding downward to hold onto his fingers. He's used to the feeling of your smaller hand in his, used to how he can hear his heartbeat in his ears whenever you lace your fingers together.

What he isn't accustomed to, is the look on your face this very second, akin to the one you wore two years ago as you sat on the other side of his kitchen island, asking him if you should go.

Expectant and hopeful; you're holding something back too.

The words that slip from your lips are ones that he never imagined you would say to him.

"I've waited for you long enough."

His poor excuse of retrieving ice cream is all but forgotten as he stares at you, doe-eyed and despairingly confused. "What is that supposed to mean?"

You take a breath, and Minho wonders if this is how he looked every time he wanted to say something only to back down in the end.

Then it all comes rushing out.

"For a while, I thought there might've been something between us, something more than just friendship. I don't know why I thought that, I just had a feeling. On the day of our graduation, I thought you would finally kiss me or at least say something, but you didn't. Whenever I went on dates, I wanted you to tell me not to go, that I was wasting my time with those guys that couldn't make me laugh because they weren't you. You never said anything, you never did anything. I waited every birthday just like I waited tonight. You're still holding it over me and I'm starting to wonder if you really love me too or if I imagined everything this whole time."

Your voice gets smaller toward the end, almost as if the uncertainty takes over you the longer he remains silent. He doesn't have the words for it, doesn't really have the mental capacity to process all of what you just professed. Years and years of longing, of hoping that you would come running into his arms the same way you did on the morning of your thesis defense, and it turns out that you were always the one waiting for him to reach you.

If you really love me too.

Your fingers start to loosen around his but Minho doesn't let you get away, not now and not ever again. Not when he finally knows that he's burnt up enough of your time just because he was too stuck in his head to see that you were holding a hand out for him all along.

He pulls you into his orbit and he likes to imagine that somewhere out there in the infinite universe, two stars collide when he kisses you for the first time, long overdue but still heavenly nonetheless.

He's crying but you don't seem to mind the tears. You're kissing him back and it's really all that matters. He can't think straight but he adores you to the point that his lungs ache.

"I love you," he mumbles against your lips. The sentiment comes out clumsy, half coherent but wholeheartedly sincere. "I'm sorry. I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you."

You're the one who breaks the kiss first, with your hand on his chest gently pushing him away. Panic instantly shoots through him like a lightning strike. These are the words he's been holding back for years, did he not even say them right? Did he fuck things up yet again?

You brush the tears from his cheeks, your voice so impossibly soft when you ask, "Do you mean it?"

Minho splinters into a million pieces, of course he does.

Your name falls from his lips, sounding like a prayer, like the most tender plea that's ever been uttered, "I love you the most. I'm so in love with you that it hurts. I've been yours for so long and I never said anything. Fuck, I-I'm sorry. I love you so much. I'm sorry. I-"

You bring his face to yours once more, shushing him with a kiss that makes him putty in your hands. You tell him that it's okay, and you kiss him like you forgive him. The world could be ending right now, and he doesn't think that either of you would even care very much.

Because you're the only wish of his life, and you kiss him as though you want to make up for the lost years. Because Minho feels like he's 18 again and you're the most beautiful girl in the world, wearing a smile that leaves him breathless in the most wonderful way possible.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 06.05.2024]