#they were tagged by someone else already to let them know what happened

[goobstars]

Hey I recently found this blog and I'm in LOVE with your Jax fics! it would be amazing if we could another one where there's already an established relationship between reader and Jax. I love this community and please remember to rest. 💜💜💜

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

summary : despite the fact you both had been dating for quite a bit, jax questions how he managed to get you.

tags : established relationship, romance, and a little angst i guess.

note : i wasn't able to focus because my head was killing me, but i hope this was okay ! enjoy !

how did he manage to get you?

the question was one that crossed jax's mind constantly—like a broken record. as much as he wanted to silence the query, for he believed it was one of weakness, it never occurred. more than anything, it only grew louder with each attempt he made to ignore the question.

he let out a quiet sigh while he leaned his head against the armrest of the couch, and his eyes closed as his hands rested on his stomach.

the question had been one that appeared out of insecurity and disbelief, for the idea that you liked him back was one that just seemed surreal. you were practically the opposite of him, and everyone actually liked you due to the fact that you were friendly to them all, unlike him. you didn't push or taunt any of them.

you were adoring, and that terrified him for some reason.

were you just doing all of this lovey-dovey stuff because you felt too bad to say no to his confession? did you say yes because of his pitiful attempt to ask you out?

the questions were shut down as soon as he felt the armrest slightly shift, and he opened his eyes in confusion before being met with your gaze.

despite the fact you both had been dating for quite a bit, you still managed to make his heart skip a beat every time he even got a glance of you.

a lazy smirk crossed his face while you leaned over him with a smile, and he lifted a hand to poke the middle of your forehead. "you stalking me, dollface?"

"and if i am?"

he quietly chuckled as you swatted away his hand, and he placed it onto his chest as you spoke up once more. "are you okay?"

the question made him pause for a moment, for he considered informing you about his thoughts, but the idea was shoved away. you would view him as weak if he were to tell you, and he didn't want that.

"of course, i am! why wouldn't i be?"

your eyes gleamed in doubt at his statement, but instead of pushing the topic, you gave him a smile before leaning down to kiss his forehead. "if you say so. i'm going to go find the others, do you want to come with me?"

"and i have to deal with those losers? i'm good right here, dollface..." you playfully rolled your eyes at his words before patting the armrest, and you walked off to go track down the others. once you were decently far away, jax's smirk faltered while he let out a dramatic groan. his hands were placed over his eyes as he dragged them down his face.

why couldn't he just tell you? why did he have to assume all these idiotic questions, but refuse to get an actual answer for them?

he stared up at the ceiling before he let out a scoff, and he turned his head to the side as he attempted to see if you were still around.

unfortunately, you were not, and who knows how long you'd be out finding the others? they tended to scatter to do their own things when adventures weren't going on.

and that left him with nothing else to do.

eventually, he closed his eyes again in hopes that maybe something would come up—like caine announcing an adventure or whatnot—but that never happened.

instead, he fell asleep.

jax was unaware of how much time had passed before he groggily woke up, and while his eyes remained closed due to the bright light of the tent, he partially moved before freezing.

there was something beside him.

confusion filled his mind as he pondered what—or who—was now rested beside him. had someone possibly tossed something beside him to prank him when he woke up?

but as he peeked one eye open, he was only met with the sight of you.

your head was against his chest while your body shifted with each breath you took, and a grin crossed his face. when did you manage to do this? and how did you not wake him up?

he wasn't complaining, though.

he moved one of his arms to wrap around your shoulder as he slightly pulled you closer, and he froze once you squirmed a little bit. yet, as you settled down, he let out a breath of relief.

the last thing he wanted to do was wake you up.

he slightly looked around to make sure no one else was nearby, but instead of doing it out of fear someone would see you both, he did it because he was worried someone would wake you up.

the others weren't exactly quiet.

or maybe it was just him.

yeah, it was just him, but he still liked the idea that he was preventing you from being woken up.

after a thorough investigation of his surroundings, jax relaxed as he slowly started to caress your back. he was still fairly drowsy from his nap, and he wanted to go back to sleep, but what if someone came over and woke you both up?

he could just sneak into their room and trash it, now that he thought about it.

he was going to go back to sleep.

he closed his eyes once again, yet his hand never stopped moving. it just traced random patterns against the back of your shirt.

as you leaned against him more, his grin softened while he peered at you.

how did he manage to get you?

he didn't know, for all he knew was that he was just happy you chose him.

[dee-writes-anime]

Can i please have the stubborn and narcissistic neito monoma finding out his s/o has omnipotence as a quirk and being a little jealous that they didn’t choose to go into 1A but chose to be in 1B instead XD

-MONTY. Eat sleep and drink waterrrrrr

A God Amongst Underdogs

FEATURING Neito Monoma x Reader

SUMMARY Neito Monoma prides himself on being the loudest voice in Class 1-B—until he discovers that his quiet, unbothered partner possesses a quirk that could bend reality itself. Omnipotent. Untouchable. The kind of power that Class 1-A would have worshipped. So why did you choose 1-B instead? And more importantly… why didn’t you tell him?

CONTENT WARNINGS canon-typical mentions of quirk combat and hero course training, light emotional conflict (envy, internal insecurity), strong language and sass (Monoma-level drama (we love you, king)), slight romantic tension, fluff

AUTHORS NOTE the things I would be able to achieve with Monoma level sass, let me tell you!

Neito Monoma prided himself on knowing everything about everyone. Or at least, everything worth knowing.

Especially when it came to Class 1-B.

They were his kingdom. His ensemble cast. His spotlight. The misunderstood underdogs clawing their way through the muck of public neglect, forever overshadowed by the golden halo that hovered over Class 1-A. Monoma made it his mission to change that. To elevate his class. To drag them, kicking and screaming if he had to, into the recognition they deserved.

Which was why it infuriated him—no, absolutely exasperated him—when you, his partner, his study rival, his occasionally affectionate cafeteria nemesis, kept your quirk almost entirely under wraps.

You weren’t hiding it in a suspicious way. You were just… quiet. Controlled. Low-flash, high-impact. You carried yourself with the poise of someone who didn’t need to prove anything. Cool-headed. Efficient. Unfazed by his antics, his declarations, his speeches in the common room. You matched his wit without raising your voice. You were composed to a fault—like a storm sealed in a glass jar.

Neito, ever the dramatist, didn’t know whether to be intrigued or insulted.

When you first transferred into Class 1-B, he welcomed you with flair. A monologue, some confetti (courtesy of comic strip boy), and a personalized introduction. You smiled. Politely. As if he were amusing.

You threw him off his rhythm.

But fine. He could handle being intrigued. He could handle being thrown off. What he couldn't handle was being blindsided.

That happened during the latest joint training exercise.

Class 1-A versus Class 1-B.

Again.

Another chance for Monoma’s masterpiece. He’d mapped out every angle, every moment of flair. He had catchphrases ready. He’d even practiced a mocking bow for Midoriya, in case the opportunity presented itself.

But then—you moved.

No announcement. No flashy build-up. Just a shift in the air. A subtle ripple that bent the world around its edges.

Bakugo halted mid-charge.

Todoroki blinked like something had snuffed his flame.

Even Aizawa, eternally impassive, narrowed his eyes on the sidelines.

Monoma turned, confusion already bubbling in his chest—

And there you were.

Casual. Still. One hand lifted like you were just adjusting your sleeve.

And reality buckled.

It was hard to describe. Like someone had crumpled the rulebook of existence, then smoothed it out again, slightly off-center. Attacks missed you. Not dodged—misfired. A blast of fire veered sideways. Ice cracked before it reached your feet. Even Monoma’s borrowed quirks twisted away, like they recognized something in you they weren’t meant to touch.

You tagged the target cleanly.

No effort. No celebration.

Just a quiet return to the sidelines, your expression unreadable.

The match ended in stunned silence.

Monoma’s carefully scripted victory speech went unused. Forgotten. He stood motionless for a full minute, watching you. Disbelief mixing with something else—betrayal? Admiration? Existential crisis?

He found you in the observation booth later, arms crossed, still perfectly calm as though nothing world-altering had just occurred.

“You never told me you had a quirk like that.”

You glanced sideways. Blinked once. “You never asked.”

He sputtered. “Excuse me? I am Neito Monoma. I ask everything. Thoroughly. Aggressively. With flair!”

You arched an eyebrow. “Maybe you weren’t asking the right questions.”

His jaw dropped. You weren’t mocking him, exactly. But the ease in your voice—like this didn’t shake your world at all—drove him up a wall.

“Omnipotence,” he repeated later, pacing the hallway with wild gesturing. “That’s what you said. Your quirk is literally omnipotence.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” you said mildly. “I can’t do everything. Just… bend a few things. The important ones.”

He stopped pacing. “Bend a few things? You made Bakugo’s explosions fizzle mid-air like dying birthday candles. You froze time—”

“I didn’t freeze time.”

“You made Todoroki’s flame apologize.”

You tilted your head. “He was probably just surprised.”

“You were in Class 1-B this whole time! You could’ve been in 1-A with ease! With honors! You could’ve replaced Todoroki. Or—gasp—Midoriya!”

“I didn’t want 1-A,” you said plainly.

“Why not?! You could be on track to become the next Symbol of Peace, or Terror, or whatever cosmic role you’re hiding under that hoodie.”

You met his gaze, the corners of your mouth lifting in the smallest of smiles. “I didn’t want to be special. I wanted to be seen.”

He shut up.

Temporarily.

The hallway was quiet, dust drifting in sunbeams, the tension wrapped between you like static.

“And besides,” you added, almost as an afterthought. “1-B had you.”

His mouth opened. Closed. He turned away with a scoff so theatrical it echoed. “Please. Flattery? I’m not so easily manipulated.”

You bumped his shoulder lightly. “You sure?”

He bumped back. “I’m sure I’m fabulous, yes.”

A smile cracked through his pride.

That weekend, Kendo found him in the common room, rambling loudly over a cup of tea.

“Of course, my partner has an absurdly overpowered quirk. But what really matters is their taste. Impeccable. I mean, they chose Class 1-B. They chose me. That’s not just intelligence—that’s vision.”

Kendo didn’t look up from her textbook. “You’re just jealous they didn’t apply to 1-A.”

“Jealous?! I don’t do jealousy, Itsuka. I inspire it.”

She rolled her eyes so hard they nearly got stuck.

Monoma didn’t care.

Because for all the shock, for all the theatrics, he couldn’t shake the soft glow of pride in his chest.

You didn’t want to be special.

But to him?

You always had been.

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection - Day 16: Fake Dating to Real Dating

Smoke and Mirrors | @akaalaisabel Rating: Explicit Word Count: 103,125 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Jock Dean, Bad Boy Castiel, Tattooed Castiel, Foster Child Dean, Top Castiel/ Bottom Dean, Childhood Trauma, References to Drugs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Found Family Summary: As a kid, Dean’s dreams were pretty straightforward: food, a roof over his head, and maybe – if he really let himself dream big – a family that wouldn’t kick him out the second he became more trouble than he was worth. College? Not on his radar. Suddenly he’s here, though – on a football scholarship and faced with the possibility that this time he might get to stay. For someone more well-adjusted it would be a dream come true. For Dean it’s a nightmare of desperately keeping up appearances while he’s drowning in other people’s expectations. At least until a game of Truth or Dare sends him face-first into the arms of Castiel Novak. Senior. Resident (ex-)drug dealer. Obnoxious literature major. Heavily tattooed and everything Dean is trying to leave behind. Dean needs a favor and Castiel is all too willing to deliver. Unfortunately the offer comes with strings attached that go well beyond the fake relationship that Castiel asks for in return.

Pink Pony Club | @casblackfeathers Rating: Explicit Word Count: 17,878 Main Tags/Warnings: fake dating, go go dancer!dean, domestic fluff, light angst with a happy ending, sharing a bed, panty kink, mutual pining, bottom!dean, sweet!dean, sweet!castiel, Summary: Among Castiel’s most cherished destinations is the Pink Pony Club, largely because of its star attraction — a go-go dancer named Dean. Castiel has dedicated a significant portion of his leisure time to observing the dancer’s captivating performances, most of their interactions done from afar due to Castiel’s social awkwardness. Upon receiving an invitation from his sister for a family vacation before her wedding, Castiel finds himself in dire need of a plus one. That’s when a chain of imprudent events culminates in Dean accompanying Castiel as his fake boyfriend. Castiel can't fathom how he will endure a two-week charade of a loving relationship convincingly with someone he can barely look in the eye without utterly embarrassing himself, while simultaneously managing his long-nurtured affections for Dean, but there’s no turning back now.

Faking It | @GhoulsnHalos (AO3) Rating: Explicit Word Count: 53,451 Main Tags/Warnings: AU-modern setting, actors, Team switch, Dream sex, oral and anal sex, misunderstandings, idiots in love, background (mostly hinted at) Sam/Rowena, Rowena plays relationship counsellor. Summary: Actor Dean Winchester's career has hit a roadblock. Offers for a juicy lead or series regular have dried up. Castiel Novak's acting career is struggling to get off the ground. Despite critical acclaim for his latest role as the angelic lead in an upcoming urban fantasy show, offers aren't flooding in. What happens when the pair agree to their managers' scheme of a three-month fake relationship to push them further into the media spotlight? It is only three months of joint public appearances pretending to fall in love in front of the cameras, right? They’re both actors. They play at make-believe for a living. It can’t be that hard to pull off, can it? Besides, what could possibly go wrong? For a second, Castiel thinks the million-dollar, boxer-dropping grin that follows is for him. Then reality hits again. “Thank you.” He doesn’t know what else to say without making an even bigger assbutt of himself than he already has. An unrecognizable emotion flashes across Dean’s features. “Besides, we don’t have to do what they’ve scheduled all the time. We’re big boys, we can do whatever we like.”

Hooker, Line and Sinker | @Giantidiot Rating: Explicit Word Count: 48,246 Main Tags/Warnings: Escort!Dean, Fake dating, AU, Top!Castiel/Bottom!Dean, age difference (they’re both adults), fluff, smut Summary: Incredibly awkward and not ready to mingle Castiel finds himself in a bit of a pickle when his boss threatens to set him up with a relative, and Castiel's knee-jerk reaction is lying his way out of it. When the lie spreads like a high school rumour, Castiel finds it difficult to backtrack, but thankfully his sister, Anna, comes to his rescue with some sound advice. Hiring an escort to pretend to be your boyfriend might sound like the most expensive way to get out of a blind date, but Castiel discovers that it is the most emotional, confusing and rewarding way as well.

Perks & Benefits | @nessarose-thropp Rating: Mature Word Count: 43,378 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Domestic, Hurt/Comfort, Fake Marriage, Friends to Lovers, Roommates, Sharing a Bed, YouTuber Castiel, Chronic Illness Summary: Castiel's life isn't going exactly as planned. It's not all bad, but it's certainly not what he pictured for himself. His career aspirations in linguistics have somehow transformed into a full-time gig as a YouTuber and ASMRtist. Instead of living in the beautiful, international, and expensive city of Geneva, Switzerland where he was raised, he's living in Columbus, Ohio. When an emergency lands him in the hospital with a life-changing diagnosis and a growing stack of medical bills, Cas is left treading water. Luckily, his best friend and roommate Dean is always there with a creative solution and offers to marry Cas. For the insurance benefits, of course.

Welcome to Pit & Paradise | @seidenapfel Rating: Mature Word Count: 11,193 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, The Empty deal never happened, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Case Fic, Idiots in Love, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Sharing a Bed, Coming Out, First Kiss, First Time, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester Summary: When Claire calls, asking for help to hunt a shifter in an LGBT+ resort, Dean and Cas suddenly find themselves as husbands on their honeymoon. Forced to play a couple, Dean and Cas both have to face their hidden dreams and feelings. It’s all fake, or isn’t it?

Amoretto Motel | @thefandomsinhalor Rating: General Word Count: 7,391 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergent, Post-Episode s12e04, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Case Fic, Fluff Summary: Feeling down after Mary left the bunker, Dean is eager to go on a hunt with Castiel, when he hears about unexplained missing couples in Arkansas. Unbeknownst to him, however, Castiel has an unusual idea how to approach this particular case. He wants to play bait. Together.

[regurgitater]

Reposters really get on my nerves here, not memes or whatever but like actual content reposting. Just rb the picture you don’t need the internet clout that bad. Other people actually spend time and effort (and sometimes money) to share thoughtful, original content on here its tacky behavior to rip that off.

[charmedimsure]

WE'RE OKAY || kang dae-ho

pairing: Kang Dae-ho x f!reader summary: Things go wrong during the third game word count: 2.1k warnings: mingle game, character death, blood, squid game stuff A/N: this man is the only thing in my head rn. posted this before when tags weren't updating so reposting now. also this is only sorta proofread so if you see any mistakes no you didn't <3 **this is sorta a p2 to "a welcome distraction" but can be read as standalone**

We will go hand in hand

And have fun jumping around

Round and round

The platform stops turning suddenly, and you grab onto Dae-ho to stop yourself from falling over.

"Eleven"

You and Dae-ho lock eyes for a split second before you both start looking around for more players. Together you were six, meaning you needed four more.

Gi-hun turns to a player behind him. "How many are you?"

"Four," the woman replies.

"That makes us ten!" Jung-bae whimpers.

A man from another group comes running over. "Are you five? We need five!"

Before any of you can answer, another player yells back. "We have five people! Come with us!"

The two groups go running off towards a door.

"We have to hurry!" Gi-hun says.

"There's no time, Gi-hun!" Young-il tells him.

"We need one more!" the tall woman yells. She spots someone by herself near the center of the platform and grabs her. "We have eleven now!"

"To the green door over there! Hurry!" Young-il yells, already running off in the direction of the door.

Before you know what's happening, Dae-ho grabs you and pulls you along after him. You rush after him into the room, pushing yourself against the wall to make room for everyone else to get inside. You look up at the man next to you before turning your head towards the beeping sound coming from the back of the room. The clock runs out, and the lock clicks on the door.

You breathe out a sigh of relief that you made it in time, but jump and yelp when you hear the screams coming from outside the door, along with the gunshots. Looking towards the door, you watch Gi-hun's reactions as he watches the people outside. The sounds of gunshots are soon replaced with the sounds of the forklifts coming in with the coffins.

Your heart begins to race. If Dae-ho had not taken you back to his friends and added you to his team, you surely would be one of those bodies out there. You look up at Dae-ho to see him already looking down at you. He saved your life.

Dae-ho looks you over to make sure you're okay before you both look around at the others in the room with you. You smile a bit when you see the nice lady and her son with you, as well as players 120 and 095. You had watched them during the six-legged race and watching them cross the finish line had filled you with hope that you could do it too.

"You're alive thanks to me!" a voice yells from inside your room, making you and everyone else jump. You turn and see the creepy lady standing in the middle of the green room, looking you all over one by one. She speaks to Gi-hun, making everyone look at each other with a mix of fear and confusion. This lady doesn't seem to understand that it is not the time for this.

The eliminated players are announced and you are let out of the rooms. The floors are already covered in blood. Red is splattered all over the walls as a morbid reminder of what will happen to you if you lose.

Everyone steps onto the platform and it starts moving again as the music starts up. Looking around, you see that weird purple-haired guy and his friend dancing together. You don't know whether to smile that people can find happiness even in a moment like this, or to be horrified that they can dance in the blood of all those people.

The platform stops again and you are shot back into the game.

"Four"

Your team looks around at each other. Just as you're about to volunteer to find others, Young-il and Jung-bae separate, shouting about needing two more people.

The rest of you run towards an open room with a purple door, taking deep breaths. Gi-hun keeps the door open and looks outside to make sure that the others found another room in time. Right before time runs out, Dae-ho pulls Gi-hun into the room and closes the door, hearing the lock turn immediately after.

The room is tense with none of you knowing whether your friends made it in time. You look at Dae-ho, seeing the worry on his face, and gently take his hand. He looks towards you and squeezes your hand, not letting go even when the doors unlock and you are let out.

Dae-ho starts yelling for Young-il and Jung-bae before a voice calling Gi-hun's name grabs your attention. You look over with relief to see that both of them are alive.

Young-il turns to Jun-hee, asking her if she is alright.

"Wait a minute," Young-il says, "if the next number is seven, we won't need anyone else, will we?"

You all smile as you understand what he's saying, and Jun-hee holds her swelling stomach, a warm smile on her face.

The number for the next round is three, making it easy for your team to split up into two groups and get into rooms with time to spare. You nearly cry as the mother and son are reunited after the round ends, and Dae-ho pulls you towards him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and rubbing his hand up and down your arm.

Your team grows after that, quietly adding the old lady and her son and players 120 and 095.

The platform starts to spin again as the next round starts.

"I hate this fucking song," you mumble under your breath.

The platform stops as the voice announces the next group size.

"Seven"

"Two men and five women! Go!" Gi-hun yells to the team.

"Which two men?" Jung-bae asks.

"I'm going with my mom!" Yong-sik says, holding onto his mother tightly.

Dae-ho holds up your joined hands. "I'm coming." You're dragged in the direction of the group as you run along. Dae-ho opens an orange door, but stops seeing that it's full.

The old man from before pushes Dae-ho out of the doorway before shutting the door. You keep Dae-ho from falling and instead pull him in the direction of an open room that player 120 found. As you run, you can hear the voice counting down. You make it with just a few seconds to spare.

You sigh in relief, but freeze once you turn around. Instead of two men and five women, the room contains two men and four women. Player 120 is standing near the door, ready to run outside when a man pushes her into the room and closes the door just in time for them to lock.

The crying eyes of player 095 look through the slot in the door.

"Young-mi!" Player 120 screams, running towards the door and desperately trying to open it.

The girl outside continues crying until a gunshot is heard and she slides down the door.

Player 120 screams as the woman cries with her son over their lost friend. Dae-ho pulls you close to him as player 120 starts screaming at the man who came in. As sad as his is to see the girl die, he's relieved that it wasn't you out there looking at him through the slot.

The doors unlock and you walk out silently. The others smile when they find you, but immediately notice the missing girl and frown. Without a word, you all step up onto the platform once more as the voice announces that this will be the last round and the music starts up again.

"What do you think it'll be this time?" Jung-bae asks Gi-hun.

"Two," Young-il answers, getting our attention.

"Why?"

"There are 126 people left, and there are 50 rooms. So there won't be enough rooms for everyone, only 100."

You and Dae-ho look at each other. He tightens his grip on your hand, silently telling you that he will bring be with you. You nod at him and get ready to run.

"Two"

Everyone immediately starts running towards the doors in a mad sprint. You stay with Dae-ho, keeping your hands together so you don't get separated.

Dae-ho opens a red door, but you're pushed aside before you can get in with him. You look up as another man pushes inside the room and closes him and Dae-ho in.

Fear like you've never known before takes over your body. You're about to die. Dae-ho can be heard inside the room, screaming your name and trying to open the door, but the man keeps him from getting out. The voice starts to count down from ten. As you accept you're fate, a pair of hands grab you and drag you into a yellow room, throwing you in before throwing the lone person inside out and closing the door.

You gasp for air as you pull yourself off the floor, staying on your hands and knees as you try to get a grasp of what just happened. Someone had saved your life.

Turning to see who your savior is, your eyes grow wide when you read the '246' on his chest.

He kneels beside you, putting a hand on your shoulder. "Are you alright?"

You nod frantically. "Thanks to you."

The gunshots begin outside and you throw your arms around the man in front of you. You'd be one of them if it weren't for him.

"Thank you," you cry into his shoulder as he hugs you back.

"There was enough time. I watched you get pushed and I just had to do something," he says.

You want to say thank him a million times, but words won't come out as you just stay in each others arms.

Two rooms over, Dae-ho's knuckles are stained red with blood as he punches the door over and over. There's no way that you made it in time, he knows that. He turns and screams at the other player in his room for pushing you, attempting to hit him before his cries take over and he falls into the corner of the room, sobbing into his sleeve.

The doors are eventually unlocked and everyone makes their way out. Dae-ho walks out slowly, looking at the floor and feeling empty. He couldn't save you.

The others run over to him, but they all frown and let out a few gasps when they see that the other person coming out of his room isn't you.

Dae-ho finally looks up at his team, though they all look blurry from the tears in his eyes. He must look like a wreck, but he can't even bring himself to care about that.

Jung-bae walks up to him and puts a hand on his shoulder, and Dae-ho breaks down again, sobbing into the shoulder of his fellow ex-marine. The area around them is silent except for Dae-ho's cries. That is until door opens behind them and a small gasp is heard in front of him. Dae-ho looks up at the woman holding her son and sees her looking past him.

"Dae-ho."

Dae-ho freezes when he hears the voice. He slowly turns around, not wanting to get his hopes up and believe that it's you. But there you, alive and standing in front of him. You look at each other for a few seconds before Dae-ho rushes towards you, throwing his arms around you as you do the same.

The man breaks down again as he hugs you. "I thought you were dead. I'm so sorry."

You rub his back as he cries, quietly telling him that it's okay.

He pulls back and cups your face with his hands, making sure to look you over. "I'm so sorry."

"It's alright, Dae-ho, it wasn't your fault," you reassure him. "And I'm okay. Everything is alright."

He nods, though tears continue to fall down his cheeks. "How did you find a room?"

You smile and look behind you at the man walking towards your group. "This man here picked me up off the floor and saved me at the last moment."

Player 246 just smiles. Dae-ho pulls you back into a hug as he thanks the man over and over for saving your life.

The other players start filtering out of the room. You break away from Dae-ho and pull him along with you towards the door.

As you're walking, he throws an arm around you and pulls you against him, placing a desperate kiss on your forehead that makes you blush. "I can't believe you're alive," he whispers against your skin.

You smile at him and take his hand, squeezing it. "You said it yourself, we're going to get out of here. Together."

Dae-ho keeps you close to him as you walk, the others from your team patting you on the shoulder as they tell you they're happy you made it. Dae-ho keeps his eyes on you the whole time, determined to get the both of you out of here. Today.

~

Dae-ho tags: @gudfornuthin

[cutehoons02]

After concert!

*pairing: idol Heeseug x fan Girl

*trope: opposite attraction

*synopsis: What would happen when your best friends for your birthday give you the ticket to the concert of your dreams as well as the Enhypen with the VIP option? You were in seventh heaven to go see your favorite band especially your favorite idol Heeseung, but what happens when he never stops looking at you during the concert and during the VIP meeting and finally a member of the staff asks you with an excuse to follow him because a band member wanted to see you?

*tags: A lot of tension, Heeseung is perverted but also sweet, fluffy moments, needy Heeseung, needy protagonist, a lot of kisses, suckers, finger sucking, masturbation, protected sex,cowgirl, possession, pet names (baby,pretty girl,good girl) (Hee)

8.7k(🎤) 💌The request and ideas were written by @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby for this story (thanks a lot for your help)

(English is not my native language)

You were looking at yourself in the mirror for the umpteenth time, trying to ensure every detail of your outfit was perfect. Behind you, your best friends were lying on the bed, giggling as they teased you. — You’re more nervous than if you were about to step on stage with them— Stella joked, tossing you a pillow. You sighed, crossing your arms with a pout. "Can you believe it? I’m about to see Enhypen live! Not just live, but up close! It’s been my dream for years!" You were wearing a black skirt, paired with a custom T-shirt for the occasion: a red heart with the words "If you say" printed on it. Your hair was loose, with two braids framing your face. On your feet, a pair of comfortable shoes—because sure, you’d be sitting in the VIP area, but you already knew you’d be singing and dancing nonstop. 'You should bring us with you,' Emma said, pretending to pout. "At least one of you! Come on, join me!” you tried to convince them, making your classic puppy-dog eyes, hoping they’d give in. But the two friends burst out laughing. — Stop with the big eyes! You know there were no more tickets! But don’t worry, you’ll make friends with someone else. Enhypen fans are everywhere,— Stella reassured you. You let out a dramatic sigh, but in the end, you smiled. They were right. After all, that night was an incredible gift, and even if you were going alone, nothing could ruin your mood. Before leaving, you hugged them tightly. "I love you. You’re the best friends in the world." 'We know,' Emma replied with a little grin. 'And remember: take videos of everyone, not just Heeseung! I want to see Sunoo, got it?' — And don’t forget Jay for me!— added Stella, winking at you. You burst out laughing. "Okay, okay, I’ll send you all the videos you want!" Then, with your heart racing from excitement, you grabbed your bag and left the house. What you didn’t know was that once you passed through the stadium gates, your life would change forever.

The sunset illuminated the stadium, and the soundcheck was almost finished, with all the members interacting with the audience. You were in the front row, and you could see them so closely it didn’t feel real. The girls next to you screamed every time a member appeared, and you shot them a disapproving look. When it was Heeseung’s turn to walk toward you, you admired him carefully without shouting or taking videos—you just wanted to observe him more closely. You had seen him everywhere on metro screens for various ads and even in some bars, while the fans next to you kept screaming and acting like fools. You rolled your eyes and shifted your gaze to Heeseung, and he started laughing as you glanced at the girls sitting next to you. You smiled shyly at him because he had singled you out in the crowd. When Heeseung moved to the other side of the stage, everyone screamed his name and started filming, but then some girls began pushing and yelling to get his attention. However, his focus remained on a girl sitting down, carefully watching him but also throwing glances at the other girls. He scanned you from head to toe and thought you were really cute—no, scratch that, beautiful. You were wearing a skirt and a T-shirt with a print from an old summer album, your hair was loose with two small braids, and your gaze had been fixed on him for a solid few minutes. He licked his lips as if it were the most natural thing in the world—an instinctive gesture, normal for him. But at that moment, with thousands of phones pointed at him and you looking at him with those deep eyes, it seemed anything but innocent. And you? You didn’t know whether to sink into the ground out of embarrassment or smile again. The girls next to you kept screaming, trying to get his attention in every way possible. You exasperated, rolled your eyes, and looked away from him for a moment. But just then, Heeseung burst out laughing. Surprised, you turned your head again, only to find him staring at you with an amused expression. He had noticed you. Among thousands of people, his gaze had landed on you. Embarrassed, you flashed a shy smile.

The stadium lights, the rhythm of the music, and the energy were simply electric. The concert was a dream come true.

Enhypen was incredible. Every detail—from their perfectly curated looks to the inhumanly synchronized choreography—showed the dedication and hours of training behind it all. You were there, completely captivated by their presence on stage.

You sang, danced, recorded videos, and took photos, without being able to stop for a second. It was impossible not to get swept up in it. Every song flowed through your veins: Moonstruck, Pass the Mic, Polaroid Love… all etched in your mind and on your phone’s memory.

But amid all the emotions of the night, there was one that made your heart race in particular.

Heeseung.

Was it just your impression, or… did he linger just a little longer every time he passed near your section?

The girls next to you screamed whenever he came close, desperately trying to get his attention. But you had the feeling that, among all of them, his gaze always returned to you.

No, it couldn’t be, you thought, trying to rationalize. There are thousands of people here—why would he look at me?

And yet, it happened again.

Another song, another lap around the stage, and Heeseung found another reason to pass by your area. This time, as he danced, he shot a glance in your direction. A second, maybe less. But enough for your heart to race uncontrollably.

If he could make you feel this way from a distance… what would happen when you met him at the meet & greet with your VIP pass?

The thought made you catch your breath.

And for the first time since the concert began, the thought of what might happen next excited you even more than the show itself.

The concert had just ended, and you were still buzzing with adrenaline. Slightly sweaty, heart pounding, you made your way to the VIP area to meet Enhypen.

As you entered the area, you took a few minutes to freshen up: fixing your braids, touching up your makeup, and spritzing a bit of your favorite perfume. Around you, other girls were doing the same. After all, in just a few minutes, you’d be seeing Enhypen up close, with only some barriers separating you from them.

Each fan had an assigned number and had to remain in their spot. While you waited, you began chatting with the girls around you, talking about the experience you’d just had, your favorite songs, and, of course, who your bias was.

Suddenly, a wave of excited screams filled the room.

You leaned forward slightly and saw Enhypen coming down to interact with the fans. They were right there, in front of you.

Your heart jumped into your throat.

Since you had one of the last numbers, you had to wait a bit longer before they reached you. In the meantime, you kept talking with the girls next to you to distract yourself from the growing anxiety.

A few minutes later, the first member to reach you was Jay.

<<Hey!>> he greeted with his usual confident smile.

Timidly, you asked if he could sign a T-shirt for your friend.

He grabbed the marker, but before signing, he looked at you with a mischievous grin. <<And where’s your friend? Didn’t she have the courage to come?>>

You chuckled, already feeling your cheeks warm. “She has an exam tomorrow… but she loves you!”

Jay nodded theatrically. <<Then we forgive her. I hope this signature brings her good luck>> he joked, signing the shirt with his neat handwriting.

One down.

“If they’re all this friendly, I can relax a bit,” you thought.

After Jay, it was Sunoo’s turn. His radiant face looked even more stunning in person, and he wasted no time signing the album you brought. 'Shall we take a photo?' he asked enthusiastically.

Of course, you agreed. You took a quick selfie, and he made a heart with his fingers before moving on to the next person.

Next up was Sunghoon. With his calm and mysterious demeanor, he took the marker and signed the T-shirt you were wearing, next to the event logo. -This T-shirt looks great on you,- he said, giving a smile while writing his name.

A chill ran down your spine and that was just the first three.

There were still four members left, including him. Heeseung.

And with each passing second, the wait became even more nerve-wracking.

When Jungwon and Niki arrived at your turn, instead of asking for the usual photo, you threw out a different idea.

“Let’s do a BeReal?” you suggested with an amused smile.

Jungwon’s eyes lit up with excitement. --Oh, that’s a cute idea!-- he exclaimed, moving closer to get into the shot. Niki nodded right away and pulled a funny face before the photo was taken.

You chatted a bit more with Jungwon, finding him easygoing and sweet. He asked you about your experience at the concert, your favorite performance, and even what had brought you to study in Seoul. He seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you, which surprised you.

After a few minutes, Jake arrived.

As soon as he approached, it seemed like all the fans around you lost their minds. With his usual sunny smile, he chuckled and exchanged a few jokes with you while signing your T-shirt.

But then something happened that made your blood freeze.

Behind him, almost as if he had been waiting for his moment, Heeseung appeared.

And from the very first moment, his eyes were only on you.

A shiver ran down your spine.

Jake made a joke to Heeseung about how much he was in demand with the fans, and Heeseung responded with a sarcastic comment that somehow seemed directed at you.

'I want to sign the T-shirt too,' he said, slightly shifting his gaze toward you with that sly smile of his.

You stood up slightly, ready to make room for him to sign the top of your T-shirt, just like Jake and Sunghoon had signed your shoulders.

But Heeseung did something unexpected.

He crouched down slightly and, through the gap in the barrier, reached out his hand. He grabbed the hem of your T-shirt and gently pulled it toward him to get a more stable surface to write on.

But in doing so, his fingers brushed your skin, right on your stomach.

A light touch. Almost accidental.

But enough to send a wave of warmth to your cheeks.

The fans around you held their breath for a second. Some recorded the scene with their phones, while others exchanged incredulous glances. It was just an autograph… or was there something more?

You, frozen, watched him as he was almost kneeling in front of you, focused on writing his name on your T-shirt.

When he stood up, he locked eyes with you and, with his usual flirty expression, asked:

'Shall we take a photo together?'

You, still slightly shaken, nodded without saying a word.

He took your phone and, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, lowered the screen to check the saved photo of him on your background. A mischievous little smile appeared on his lips. 'Oh? What’s this?' he asked, showing you the picture of him you had saved.

You felt like dying of embarrassment. Had that just happened?

'So, am I your favorite?' he asked, his voice a little lower and more playful.

Other fans were waiting, and you had to let him go. But before he took the photo, you decided to tease him a bit.

“Maybe… or maybe I change the screen to a different photo of all seven of you every day,” you replied with a smile, trying to recover from the tense moment.

He looked at you for a second, squinting as if he were trying to figure out whether you were lying or not.

Then he took the photo with you and finally moved on to the next fan.

But still… every time he could, he would glance back at you.

As if, for some reason, he just couldn’t stop looking at you.

You were both stunned and ecstatic at the same time.

The evening had already been incredible on its own, but what had happened with Heeseung left you in a state of complete confusion. Was it just a game to him? A way to entertain the fans?

Lost in your thoughts, you were leaving the stadium when a big, burly man, clearly part of the security team, approached you.

-Excuse me, miss, we found your ID on the ground. Could you follow me for a moment?-

You looked at him, surprised. My ID?

Maybe it fell out when you showed your tickets at the entrance…

"Oh, sure!" you replied, following him without asking too many questions.However, as you ventured deeper into a more restricted area, anxiety began to rise. Why is he taking me here?

When you reached a side door, a staff member, with a kind demeanor and a sweet smile, greeted you.

'Hi! Could you check if your ID is really in your bag?' she asked. Confused, you opened the notebook where you usually kept your documents... and the ID was there.

You stared at it, puzzled. "But..."

She smiled even more. 'Actually, it was just an excuse. One of the members asked to meet you.'

Your heart skipped a beat.

"...What?"

'Heeseung asked to meet you after the concert.' You burst out laughing, more from shock than anything else. "You're joking, right?"

The girl shook her head. 'No, it's all true. If you want, you can go into that room. But first, you need to sign a confidentiality agreement and leave your phone with us.'

You swallowed hard. An agreement?

"Can I read it first?" you asked, growing more nervous.

'Of course, take all the time you need.'

She handed you a tablet with the document, and you began scrolling through the text, making sure to understand every point.

Main points of the agreement:

Total confidentiality – You couldn’t share any details about the conversation or the meeting with Heeseung, nor talk about it online or with friends.

No recording – No photos, videos, or audio. You had to hand over your phone before entering.

Duration of the meeting – It was specified as a private meeting, with no commitments or obligations.

Termination of the agreement – If you felt uncomfortable, you could leave at any time.

Number of fans he had met – 0, no names were listed, and you had to write yours at the top of the box along with your phone number.

You read it carefully. Nothing seemed strange or dangerous, but it still felt surreal. Why does Heeseung want to see me?

In the end, after taking a deep breath, you agreed and signed the contract.

The staff member took your phone and sealed it in an envelope, then smiled. 'You can go in.'

She opened the door, and as soon as you stepped inside, you saw him.

Heeseung was sitting on a couch, legs slightly spread, a cold drink in hand, and his hair still damp. His posture was relaxed, but his gaze was fixed on you. Slowly, he set the bottle down on the table beside him and, with a sly smile, said the first thing that made your legs shake.

'I thought you wouldn’t accept.' You approached slowly, almost with fear and disbelief.

Heeseung rose from the couch with a smooth movement, leaving the drink on the table. He was tall and relaxed, but his gaze was hypnotic. He extended his hand with a slightly mischievous smile.

'Maybe you already know my name... and maybe you know everything about me,' he said in a low, slightly amused voice.

You immediately blushed but you didn’t want to seem like a shy, fan-girl with no character. So, you looked up and, with a somewhat timid but bold smile, replied: "I know all about Enhypen, not just about you."

He chuckled, raising an eyebrow as if he hadn’t expected such a response. 'Oh? So, I’m not your favorite?'

Without lowering your gaze, you confidently extended your hand toward him, palm open. "Y/N."

As soon as your hands touched, both of you felt a sudden shiver. A flash of something unexplainable, electric.

He stayed for a moment, staring at you, his thumb gently brushing your skin, and said, 'Nice to meet you, Heeseung.' Then, almost as if he wanted to mask it, he ran a hand through his hair and briefly looked away.

'I wanted to meet you because…' he paused, almost as if considering how to say it. 'I couldn’t stop looking at you.'

Your heart skipped a beat. You swallowed, trying to remain calm, but your voice came out a bit more uncertain than you intended. "So… it wasn’t just my imagination?"

Heeseung laughed, tilting his head slightly. 'No. I really was always looking at you.' The way he said it, so simple and direct, left you speechless for a moment.

'In fact,' he continued with a smirk, 'I always looked for a reason to go to your side of the stage.'

You stared at him with a skeptical expression. "Oh, so it was all calculated?" you teased, crossing your arms.

He laughed again, a low, captivating sound, before shaking his head. 'Maybe yes… or maybe no.'

Now that he was right in front of you, so close, you could truly observe him. His skin is still slightly damp from the concert, his dark eyes seemed to glow, the way his lips always curved into that expression halfway between playful and provocative.

And then, without thinking too much, he did something that completely threw you off. He took your hand and placed it on his cheek. The warmth of his skin against your palm made you hold your breath. Your fingers brushed the edge of his jawline, the slight roughness of his post-concert skin tangible beneath your fingertips. It was real.

In a barely audible whisper, the words escaped your lips. "You... you’re real." Heeseung closed his eyes for a moment under your touch, then slowly reopened them. 'Yes. I’m real.'

Then, he lowered his voice a little, his gaze turning more serious and intense.

'And we can do whatever we want.'

You burst out laughing, a light and innocent sound, even though the atmosphere in the room had turned electric, charged with something dangerously intense. "So, Heeseung…" You tilted your head slightly, watching him with a provocative smile. "What do you want to do with me?" For a moment, he seemed taken aback, as if he hadn’t expected your boldness. Then he lowered his gaze, biting his lip slightly before letting out a low laugh, almost amused but also pleased. 'You’re bolder than I thought.' His finger brushed the edge of your shirt, exactly where he had signed his name just moments ago. A light touch, almost imperceptible, but enough to make you hold your breath. You didn’t move and when he noticed, something in his gaze shifted. With a slow and calculated movement, he slid his finger along the hem of your skirt, his fingertip tracing a small circle on your exposed skin. Then, without breaking eye contact, he lowered his finger to your thighs, barely grazing them, leaving you breathless and with a racing heart. You stared at him, trying not to be overwhelmed by his game, and teased him with a mischievous smile. "So?" Your voice was barely a whisper. "Is that all?" His eyes darkened slightly, his lips parted as though he was about to say something, but then he hesitated. Finally, in a low, husky voice, he whispered against your skin. 'I want to kiss you.' Your lips curled into a slight smile, your heart pounding in your chest, but you wouldn’t make it easy for him. 'Is that it?' He stiffened for a second, as if your question had caught him off guard, then tilted his head to the side, eyeing you with a mix of amusement and authority. Did he seem shy? Maybe for a second. But only for a second. 'Don’t joke with me.' His voice had deepened, turning more dangerous. You bit your lip, amused by his reaction, but inside, you felt an ever-increasing surge of tension, almost unbearable. "I’m just trying to understand…" you shrugged, feigning innocence. "What else do you want from me? Why me, out of all those girls?" He narrowed his eyes, his jaw slightly clenched, and then, with a pout that almost seemed cute, answered with disarming honesty: 'I want to touch you. I want to have you for myself.' And in that moment, you realized he wasn’t playing anymore. The tension in the air was so thick, it almost felt like you could touch it. Your eyes locked with his as, without hesitation, you whispered: "You can kiss me." Heeseung tilted his face slightly, his gaze moving from your lips to your eyes, as if memorizing every one of your reactions. His hand slowly rose to your cheek, brushing it with a delicacy almost unnatural for the desire you saw in his eyes. Then, slowly, he lowered his face toward yours. His lips met yours in a kiss that started light and soft as if giving you time to get used to the sensation of him so close. But you didn’t want caution; you wanted to feel him for real. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. His scent enveloped you, his presence seemed to consume you. After a few seconds, you felt him smile against your lips, and then, with a slow, almost cruel motion, he bit your lower lip. A soft moan escaped you, and that was exactly what made him lose control. With a fluid motion, he slid his tongue against yours, deepening the kiss without hesitation.

His fingers glided across your skin, his hand resting on the small of your back, pulling you even closer to him.

You lifted yourself slightly onto your toes, trying to bridge the height difference between you, and he noticed immediately.

'You’re really small,' he murmured against your lips, chuckling as he traced small circles with his fingers on your exposed stomach.

He teased you, his tone provocative, amused. You pulled away slightly, catching your breath, and lifted your gaze to meet his.

"And you’re bold," you shot back, but your voice sounded more innocent than you had intended.

Heeseung chuckled softly, his eyes shining with dangerous satisfaction.

Your back hit the wall with a dull thud, your breath caught by the intensity with which Heeseung had pushed you against it.

It wasn’t violent; it was desperate.

His eyes burned with a barely contained desire, and before you could say anything, he lowered himself to you, his mouth finding your neck.

A shiver ran through your body as his lips brushed the sensitive skin beneath your ear, leaving behind slow, provocative kisses.

Then, the first bite, you moaned softly, your fingers instinctively gripping his shirt. Heeseung smiled against your skin, his warm breath caressing you as he continued to torment you with gentle bites and sucks, alternating them with sweeter kisses.

Between breaths, you barely found the strength to whisper a question that was consuming you from the inside:

"How many times have you done it?" You felt his smile curve against your skin before he even spoke. He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of genuine shyness.

'It’s the first time with a fan.'

Your expression must have betrayed your skepticism because Heeseung chuckled softly, leaving another kiss just above your collarbone.

'I don’t really like these kinds of things,' he continued in a lower, rougher voice. 'But when I saw you under the stage... I wanted to get to know you. I wanted to have you all to myself.'

Your heart skipped a beat."I don’t believe you."

You just couldn’t trust those words. A guy like him? The flirt, the idol who drove millions of fans crazy?

Heeseung barely shook his head, as if he had anticipated your reaction. Then he sank his teeth into a more sensitive spot on your neck and sucked hard enough to make you flinch.

'Did you read the contract?' he whispered with a hoarse voice, his lips still pressed against your skin.

"Yes," you replied with difficulty, trying to catch your breath.

'And how many fans was it written that I had been with, before you?'

Your mind quickly went back to the contract you had signed. There was a number. Zero. You stiffened slightly. Heeseung pulled back just enough to look at you, a cocky smile on his lips.

'It was true.' He was teasing you.

And without thinking, you reached a hand into his hair and pulled slightly, making him groan softly against you.

His eyes darkened when they met yours.

'You’re cute when you do that.'

"I’m not cute."

'Are you jealous too?' he chuckled softly, his voice full of amusement.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the frantic beating of your heart.

You would never give him the satisfaction of a response. But Heeseung didn’t seem willing to let you go.

He moved closer again, his mouth back on yours—and this time, the kiss was even deeper. His lips came back to you, hungry and sure, while a shiver ran down your spine. He chuckled against your skin when his hands moved more decisively down your sides, tracing the curve of your body with an audacious touch.

A barely audible groan eluded you when you felt the touch of his hands creep under your skirt. He giggled against your neck, the hot breath making you shudder. "So sensitive already?” he whispered, his fingers sliding light on your butt as if to test your reaction.

You looked down, your cheeks on fire, and he seemed to enjoy it even more. With a sharp movement, he squeezed you by the hips.

'Jump up' he ordered, his voice lower, almost hoarse. You hesitated for a second, embarrassed, but the intensity with which she looked at you made you give in. You clung to his shoulders, and he lifted you up with ease, gluing you to himself. Your back crashed into the wall with a light thud, while his hands clasped you tightly against his body.

You felt its length press against your warm center, even through the layers of clothing, and your breath stuck in your throat. 'Baby,' he muttered with a crooked smile, the tone barely darker, 'you're so fragile... I could bend you as I want.'

A shiver ran through your back, but instead of backing away, you looked at him with a spark of defiance in your eyes. “And what stops you?”

He laughed quietly, his eyes shining with something dangerous. Then his fingers found the edge of your panties, stroking them with slow, deliberate movements. He felt how soaked they were already and raised an eyebrow, amused.

'So wet just for me?' You bit your lip, trying to hold back a reaction, but he wouldn't let you. With an expert touch, she pushed her thumb against your sensitive clitoris, making you arch your body instantly. "H-Heeseung..." you gasped, holding on to him more.

'Shh,' he whispered, bringing one hand under your butt to hold you still while the other continued to explore you. When you felt the first finger slip inside you, you gasped and he giggled again, pleased to see you so lost in his touch. 'So tight... ' he whispered, her voice full of desire. 'I'll ruin you.'

Heeseung walked slowly around the room, holding you firmly in his arms. Every step was safe and controlled, while his fingers moved inside you with maddening slowness. The contrast between his firm grip and languid touch drove you crazy. Your hands clung to her dark hair, pulling them slowly in a desperate attempt to have more friction, more intensity. He laughed against your skin, his warm breath caressed your neck.

'So impatient,' he whispered, nibbling softly at your earlobe. 'Look how you hold me. Do you like it that much, mh?' The heat that spread through your body was overwhelming, and you looked away, your face turned red. Feeling your embarrassment, Heeseung smiled amused.

He sat on the big bed, keeping you above himself without ever stopping the movement of his fingers inside you. When he added another, deeper, your body flinched at him, snatching another low, smug laugh.

'Oh? Do you like this too?' he asked, his voice full of malice.

'Don't say you're shy when your body is practically begging me to continue.' He blatantly teased you, and you, in an attempt to regain at least some control, lowered your head towards her neck, leaving a light kiss on his skin before nibbling it softly. You could feel him stiffening for a moment, before his free hand grabbed your hair firmly, pulling you back slightly to make you meet his gaze.

'What a good girl...' he muttered, dark irises shone with desire.

'But do you really think you can provoke me like that and get away with it?' Your mouth opened to respond, but a sudden movement of his fingers, faster, deeper, made you gasp faintly against his lips. Heeseung laughed again, his tone authoritarian but amused.

'Oh, you're so sensitive... Tell me, do you like it when I touch you like that?' You looked down, biting your lip. You didn't want to give him that satisfaction.

'Don't you want to answer?' he murmured, increasing the pace without any mercy. The increasing pressure made you grab the fabric of his T-shirt with trembling fingers.

'No need, baby. Your body is already speaking for you.' You knew you couldn't resist him much longer. Your legs began to tremble around his hips and the feeling growing in your belly became overwhelming.

"Hee... I -”

'I know,' his voice was a whisper against your ear. 'You're so cute when you try to hold yourself back, but I want to hear you let go for me.'

One last, precise movement of his fingers was your end. The pleasure exploded inside you in an uncontrollable wave, and your body squeezed around its fingers as a moan escaped from your lips. Heeseung watched you with dark eyes full of satisfaction, his breathing heavy as he pressed you against himself.

'So beautiful,' he whispered, leaving a slow kiss on your temple. 'And all mine.'

Heeseung watched your flushed face, breath still broken by the former pleasure. With a satisfied smile, she brought her wet fingers close to your lips, gently tracing the outline with her tip before whispering in a low, hoarse voice: 'suck.'

You stiffened slightly, the heat rose from the chest to the cheeks. Heeseung's eyes shone with malice as he waited, patient but dominant, for me to obey. “I ... never did, " you muttered, looking down slightly.

He laughed softly, that low, enveloping laugh that made you vibrate inside. With his other hand, he gently stroked your chin, forcing you to look at him.

'Oh, how cute,' he whispered, tilting her head slightly.

'You are so shy, but look how well you took my fingers before...' Swallow empty, feeling even more embarrassed under his intense gaze. But part of you wanted to please him, wanted to see him satisfied. So, hesitantly, you slowly squinted at his lips, leaving him room to push his fingers between them. You wrapped them with your tongue, savoring the slightly sweetish and salty flavor of your essence. You sucked them gently, licking softly while he watched you with dark, piercing eyes. His chest rose with a deeper breath, and his free hand crept through your hair, stroking it with slow, relaxing movements. 'Good girl,' he muttered, the tone low and velvety.

The compliment made you cringe, and you nodded quietly, maintaining eye contact with him as you continued to suck softly. When he felt it was enough, Heeseung withdrew his fingers from your mouth slowly, leaving a thread of spit connected between them and your slightly swollen lips. Before you could say anything, he pressed his lips against yours in an urgent, ravenous kiss. His hands went down to your hips, squeezing you with more force as he drew you even closer to his warm body.

The kiss was deep, almost possessive, and you couldn't help but get carried away, responding with the same intensity. In the brief moment when you took off to catch your breath, you whispered against his lips, short of breath: "You taste of me...”

He smiled at your lower lip before biting it flat, pulling it slightly before releasing it.

'And I like it,' he replied with a grin. Then, without giving you time to replicate, he began to slowly move his hips against yours, rubbing himself slowly with slow but firm movements. The contact made you gasp, a muffled groan escaped from your lips as he continued to kiss you, swallowing every sound you could make.

'You're so responsive...' he whispered between kisses, his voice charged with desire.

'You like it when I move like this, don't you?' The heat in your belly became unbearable, and all you could do was hold on to him even more, completely lost in his touch. The rhythm between you became slow but full of tension, your bodies moving in unison in an increasingly pronounced rocking. With every slightest movement, you could feel his excitement growing beneath you, the hardness pressing against the light fabric of your little skirt. The warmth enveloped you, and a little amused smile grazed your lips as you looked at him with eyes full of mischief.

"Do you like it, Hee?” you muttered, tilting your head slightly as you continued to move slowly over him. He raised an eyebrow, his smile widened into a smug grin.

'Are you kidding me?' he asked, his voice low and veiled with desire. You didn't respond right away, biting your lip as you moved just a little harder against his thick cock that by now your poor pussy felt so good under him. A subdued growl escaped from his lips, and in an instant his hand slid under your butt, grabbing you with a firm grip that made you wince. He lifted you slightly, forcing you to stop, and his gaze became darker as his thumb traced small circles on your exposed skin.

'You know' “he began, tilting his head as his eyes slowly slid over you,

'I've always liked this little skirt of yours'

Your breath became shorter when his hand slid down the light cloth, stroking your hips before stopping on your thigh. 'Every time I came to the side of your sector to see you dance and sing my songs...' he paused, letting his fingers graze the edge of the cloth. 'He always got up too much for my taste.'

A shiver ran down your back at his tone, so confident, so authoritarian. But before you could answer, you felt a little slap on the bare buttock. Nothing strong, just a light blow, more provocative than punitive. A little gasp escaped from your lips, and your eyes opened wide as you looked at him, surprised. He smiled, clearly amused by your reaction.

“Why did you do it?” asked slowly, the voice a little uncertain. Heeseung lowered his face until he touched your ear, his voice now a warm and possessive whisper.

'Because from now on, these beautiful legs will only be seen by me.' Your heart beats faster in your chest, and your body responds to his statement more than you want to admit. And yet, in the next moment, his attitude changed slightly. His eyes, still intense, seemed for a moment sweeter, and his hand, which just before had grasped your skin firmly, now gently stroked your back.

'Baby..' he muttered, his voice lower, almost uncertain. 'Do you want to take my pants off?' The contrast between his authoritarian tone from just before and the slight hesitation with which he asked you for that gesture sent you completely into a tailspin.

The heat on the cheeks became oppressive, and you slightly lowered your gaze, biting your lip. You couldn't answer right away, but at the end, you nodded quietly, your voice a shy whiff.

"Yesp” A satisfied smile curved his lips. 'Good girl.' Heeseung lifted slightly, leaving you room to pull off his pants. With slightly trembling hands, you grabbed the edge of the fabric and lowered it flat, when the pants slid down his legs, your eyes stopped on her tight-fitting boer Your breath stopped for a moment, and the heat on your cheeks became even more intense. Heeseung immediately noticed your fixed gaze, and a mischievous smile painted on his lips as he leaned towards you.

'That's the effect you've been doing to me... since the first time I saw you sitting at the soundcheck.' His voice was low, and deep, as if he were confessing a forbidden secret. You looked at him, biting your lower lip with a mixture of embarrassment and satisfaction. Part of you still felt shy under his intense gaze and you lowered his hand and brushed his erection over the hot boer Heeseung breathed sharply, your abs twitching under the gentle touch of your fingers.

The sound that came out of his lips was deep, and throaty, and for a moment you seemed to lose control. "I can...?" you asked slowly, your fingers moving just above the cloth. He did not hesitate for a second before answering, his voice more hoarse than usual.

'Yes ... please.' A little amused smile eluded you as you gently grabbed the edge of his boer When the fabric slipped away, his breathing became heavier. Your gaze rests on his cock, imposing, slightly curved, the warm skin crossed by light veins and covered with a thin moisture of whitish liquid. Without realizing it, you slowly licked your lips, and Heeseung did not let it slip.

'Do you like what you see?' he whispered, his tone provocative but loaded with expectation. You just lowered your hand, slowly touching him, savoring the way his body reacted under your touch. Heeseung closed his eyes for a moment, his jaw clenched as a subdued groan escaped from his lips. 'Continue...' he muttered, his voice slightly trembling. Heeseung seemed completely lost in you.

His eyes were ajar, his lips slightly open as his chest rose in irregular breaths. Still, all you were doing was slowly moving your hand along his cock, exploring it with a mixture of curiosity and shyness. His voice, deep and broken with pleasure, filled the room.

'Not—' he gasped, slightly clutching the sheets under himself, 'not too hard... go slow.'

Nod slowly, biting your lip as you followed his command, your hand moving more gently. Now and then, his voice became more authoritarian, as if he wanted to regain control of the situation, but his own pleasure seemed to betray him.

'Yes, so...' he whispered between heavy breaths, his hand resting on yours, guiding you in the rhythm he preferred. 'Good girl.' Those words made you feel even hotter and you felt your poor pussy even more stimulated and dripping from seeing the guy of your fucking dreams make him feel good with just one hand of yours, and the way he was looking at you - lost, vulnerable, completely at your mercy - made you unconsciously squeeze your legs.

Every deep moan of his, every sigh of his body under your touch, made you feel like you were discovering a side of him that no one else had ever seen. After a while, his breathing became even more irregular and you felt his body vibrate under your hands. Heeseung gently grabbed your wrists, holding you for a moment as the pleasure overwhelmed him altogether. A throaty moan left his lips as his body arched slightly, the heat of his excitement pouring over his taut abdomen and you watched him spellbound as he cleaned out in his abdomen the splashes of his cum and stood motionless for a moment, his chest rising and lowering heavily as he tried to recover. Then, he opened his eyes and looked at you with a sly smile. 'You're such a good student.'

The blush on your cheeks increased, and you slightly lowered your gaze, fiddling with your fingers. ” Today I'm trying a lot of new things... "

You admitted softly, your voice shy but sincere. He laughed softly, his expression sweetened as he watched you with a mixture of affection and amusement. Then he came up and, with extreme sweetness, kissed your forehead. 'Then let's see what else I can teach you.'

His hands grazed your skin with a delicacy that contrasted with the way he looked at you—his dark eyes, burning with desire.

'Do you want it?' he whispered against your lips, his voice hoarse and deep. You nodded quickly with a barely hinted smile, raised your hand and gently took your chin between your fingers, forcing you to look straight into your eyes.

'Tell me,' he ordered in that authoritarian tone that made you tremble. Inhale slowly, feeling your body getting warmer and warmer under his intense gaze. "Yes, I want you."

A smug smirk made space on his lips as he picked up a condom and unrolled it over himself with a confidence that made you bite your lip. Your gaze remained glued to his gestures, and he immediately noticed.

'All yours, Baby. You can do whatever you want.' His confidence made you feel thrilled, but he also wanted to test you, and make you give in completely to him. His hands rested on your hips, stroking the light fabric.

'Get up a little bit so that I take off this fucking skirt and this little t-shirt, I can't wait to see you completely naked around my cock!"

You burst out laughing, hitting his chest lightly with your hand, but he took the moment to grab the edge of your shirt and lift it over your head, revealing your body little by little. His eyes lowered on your curves with admiration and desire, and his breathing became heavier. "You are incredible..." he muttered, letting his fingers slide slowly down your skin. Then, with a mischievous grin, he added: 'Perfect at every point.'

You felt the heat rise on your cheeks as he ducked down to leave a warm kiss on your skin, right there where your heartbeat was most frantic. His hands clasped around you more firmly, and in an instant he lifted you slightly, supporting you in his arms as your breaths intertwined.

When you felt him finally pushing himself inside you your warm walls began to wrap his cock inside you, and a subdued moan escaped from your lips, immediately followed by his. His eyes met yours, dark and burning, while his body moved against yours with an almost unnerving slowness.

'Is everything okay?' he whispered, his thumb stroking your side gently. Nod slowly, clinging to him as the wave of sensations swept over you. "Yes ... continue." His hips rose slightly and you turned more violently on his cock while your vaginal walls completely excited and covered in slime took him almost completely inside you, your breasts ribboned every time his cock entered you; every time you pushed against him, a thrill of pleasure ran down your back, and your moans came out involuntary.

He, with a mischievous smile, mocked you for your reaction, but even he did not seem able to resist. His body trembled under yours, responding to your every movement. Every time you approached, he would bend down to kiss you on the breast, his kisses becoming more and more intense and full of passion. His hands caressed your skin with a sweetness that contrasted with the strength of his desire.

'You're amazing,' he whispered between breaths, his voice hoarse and low. 'I didn't think you'd be so... beautiful and good at taking my cock.' The pleasure grew, and with each movement, you felt the wave of pleasure enveloping you more and more. When he finally touched the right spot, a scream of pleasure eluded you, and his eyes became even more intense.

'Do you want them to hear you?' he asked.

"Yes, yes...Hee is too much' He smiled with a smug air, gently caressing you.

'You're not as shy as I thought you were,' he muttered, your every movement getting faster, more intense, and you felt that the pleasure was overpowering you. With a last gasp, you whispered to him that you were about to arrive. He gently took you in his hands, touching both of you and making you feel even closer to him. When his breathing became even more frantic, he leaned toward you, kissing you with impetus, his tongue exploring yours with an intensity that gave you goosebumps.

'Feel how much I am inside you,' he muttered against your lips, the tone warm and deep.

'Feel what you make me feel.' His words made you falter, but the passion and desire you felt made you stronger. You responded with a groan, pushing at him with greater intensity, your body instinctively reacting to his unspoken commands. Every word, every whisper, made you feel like you were experiencing something unique, and intense, and all you wanted was to let go completely. "Don't stop," you whispered to him, your body trembling with desire. "Let me come, please Heeseung."

Heeseung held you tight against him, his eyes dark and burning with desire. 'You're so small compared to me...' he whispered with a cheeky smile, the tone low and provocative.

'I could break you at any moment, you know?' His voice made you shudder. You knew it was just a provocation, but the way he said it, with that disarming confidence, made you lose your mind. His movements became deeper and deeper, more intense, each push sending waves of pleasure down your back. You stuttered broken words, unable to formulate coherent sentences, and this seemed to amuse him.

'What are you trying to say, baby?' he laughed softly, with that mocking, charming tone.

'Can't you even talk? Am I making you feel so good?' You nodded weakly, biting your lip to hold back the moans, but he didn't seem willing to let you hide anything.

'No, no ... I want to hear from you.' His hand slid between your bodies, finding your most sensitive spot. A single expert touch was enough to make you gasp and let slip a louder groan. "Hee-I'm going to -"

He smiled, stroking you with slow, torturing movements.

'I know, baby ... come for me.' And when the wave of pleasure swept over you, a scream of ecstasy filled the room. Your body shook above him, your hands clinging desperately to his broad shoulders. Heeseung didn't stop moving, dragging you through orgasm as his breathing became more erratic. With one last deep moan, he completely immersed himself and doused all his condom with his cum that he absolutely wanted to squirt into you but he didn't know you and he knew exactly how much he was risking, his body straining as he let go.

He held you close to him, his face tucked against your neck, his warm breath on your skin. You stayed like this for a few moments, hearts beating in unison, the silence broken only by the labored rhythm of your breaths. Then, when you finally got up slightly, you felt a sudden feeling of emptiness that left a shiver on your skin. It was a reality that you should not forget: he was Heeseung, an idol, a star that everyone admired.

You ... just a student who loved it. Yet at that moment, in his arms, none of this seemed to matter.

The idea of seeing him everywhere, wherever you looked, made you feel a little trapped as if fate was playing a bad joke on you. Every time you crossed his eyes, even on a giant screen, there was something that struck you deep, as if it had left an indelible mark on you. And yet, you knew that for him you were just one person among a thousand others, one night among many, one of the many experiences that he could easily forget, while you remained to brood, to try to come to terms with your heart that did not seem to want to know to "forget"

It had been a month since that magical night and that afternoon you were quietly working in the bar outside the university campus until you saw him come in, but you were not ready for that voice that made you stop suddenly.

That voice that had tormented you in your dreams and in your days, like a melody that you could not get out of your head, but that now seemed even more real, closer. Your colleague, with her innocent smile and a little complicit, had no idea what was going on inside you.

He had no idea how much that simple request for ' an iced coffee' had made you falter.

Your colleague asked Heeseung his name and he said to write,

'Do you want to go out with me?'

and he had thrown it at you as if it were a game as if he had no idea of the effect it had on you, the world around you seemed to have stopped. Your mind was trying to reason, but your feelings were a whirlwind difficult to contain. How could you answer that? How could you pretend that everything was normal, when the guy of your dreams, the guy you had seen everywhere and tried to avoid, from the first moment he entered the bar was looking at you with that challenge in his eyes?

You made that coffee, put the ice in it, and wrote those words on the glass... everything seemed so simple, but inside you, there was a total confusion. Every move seemed executed in a dream, every gesture you did as if automatic, but your heart was completely out of control. When you turned around to pass the glass to your colleague and stood in front of him, it was as if the whole world had stopped again. His eyes were on you, and his smile, with that slight air of defiance, hit you right in the chest.

He passed the marker to you as if he wanted to continue that game, but his look told you everything: he was waiting for an answer.

It was all so surreal. You looked at him, your heart pounding in your chest, and with a smile, you couldn't hold back, you turned a little more toward him.

And your question... 'Is it a yes or a no?' it struck you as a small provocation, but also with a sweetness that almost made you melt.

taglist: @stwrlightt @hearts4cheoll @lovenha7 @in-somnias-world @heeseungxo @luvyeni @jayjw16enxp @jvngwnii @jooniesbears-blog @gguk-n @cloudykim @enhaverse713586 @stormy1408 @jakesw82 @misssparklyprincess @bamguetismee @jaylajakey @arclviie @strxwbloody @steddie-steddiee @jungwoosbaey @laurenmia65 @tasnemluvs @lovellydisasterr @rikiscupid @simj4k3 @numnommzz @sspidermansss @vixialuvs @smlbch @m3wkledreamy@xylatox @ikeulove @nishikio @ancnymcnzjy @sofiafromvenus @kayjiguki @annovaz @kkamismom12

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[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

then send me a son

pairing: joel miller x reader

cws/tags: so much angst (w/ happy ending! i swear), discussion of suicide attempt (the canon one), suicidal ideations, losing a child, losing a parent, survivors guilt, discussions of abortion, unplanned pregnancy, p in v, oral sex, virginity loss (but it's not that big of deal/not a kink), both dealing w grief, ellie is dead, this is set in jackson post tlou pt I

summary: joel is put on suicide watch after he returns to jackson w/o ellie and reader becomes his 'caregiver' of sorts. lowkey enemies to lovers but also not bc it's kinda one-sided 'hatred'

a/n: author is pro-choice! and also understands the complexities of mental health that reader and joel do not at times (just wanted to make it clear that i understand... from personal experience... what depression is like as well as suicidal ideation).

title is from the song 'the suburbs' by arcade fire, but listen to the entirety of the suburbs (album) and funeral (album) if you want to understand my mindframe while writing this

the last sentence is a quote and i've reblogged it before but i'll find the image and post it/reblog it again

wc: 9.4k

masterlist | ko-fi | taglist

Joel is just surprised Tommy has the gall to ask, “Where’s Ellie?” when he arrives in Jackson alone. 

In this world, when two people leave and only one comes back, you don’t ask because you already know what happened. You wait for that person to tell you about a miracle, and when they don’t, you know for sure. 

“Heaven, if you believe in that sort of thing,” is Joel’s response. 

But Joel doesn’t believe in Heaven or Hell, or anything other than ashes and dirt. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Tommy says because he’d already said ‘I’m sorry’ when Sarah died, and that didn’t bring her back. 

It takes a hefty amount of booze to get Joel to tell the story.

“I just hope she died for something. Then, at least, I’ll know I’m being selfish.”

I didn’t get that with Sarah, he thinks. She didn’t die for a ‘noble cause’. He doubts Ellie did either. 

“You’re being put on watch,” Maria tells him the next morning – when he’s sober and asking what his duties are now that he’s back. 

Life goes on, which means work goes on, so what’s my job? As long as it’s not burning bodies, I’ll be okay. 

“Watch? Like I’m watching, or I’m being watched.”

“Being watched.”

He asks why, though he doesn’t need to. Tommy knows why he’s got that scar on his forehead. 

“Fucking authoritarian bullshit,” he mutters, half into his pillow. “Thought you were a communist.”

“I am. And this has nothing to do with that.”

“I bet Tommy put you up to it anyway.”

“He didn’t ‘put me up to anything’.”

“But he told you, didn’t he?”

“He told me a long time ago.”

“Figures. You always knew I was a coward.”

“You say stuff like that, and then act like you don’t need help.”

“I didn’t say I don’t need help. I said I don’t want it.”

She’s silent, letting him continue. “Now let me grieve in peace, will you?”

She hums something akin to agreement, but asks for something that sounds like protest to him. “Where’s your gun?”

“Which one?”

“All of ‘em.”

He tells her because he doesn’t want Tommy or anyone else searching through all his bullshit because that’s what happens if he doesn’t give ‘em up.

“Want my kitchen knives too?” he says, almost wryly. 

She takes most of them, but leaves the more blunt ones out of sympathy. He can have butter on his toast. Unless she takes the toaster so he can’t take it with him in the bathtub. 

She leaves the toaster, and then, leaves him alone. 

Quite frankly, he’s too old to kill himself. Sure, people do it at his age, but he’s so goddamn tired. Moreover, he knows he could get someone else to do it pretty easily. Maybe he could be a martyr. He could save someone from a clicker or a soldier. He could save someone’s life for once. But would that be enough to save his soul? To make it to Heaven and see Ellie and Sarah again?

Maybe, he would, if God really does love people the way some say he does. But if Joel was God, he’d deny himself entry.

He stays in bed for the rest of the day. Aside from the two times he eats. And once in the middle of the night to take a piss because he may be depressed, but the last of his dignity is motivation enough not to wet the bed. 

He doesn’t shower or change his clothes. Not like he’s wearing a shirt anyway, just boxers ‘cause it’s too hot outside and he doesn’t want to get up and turn on the fan. Sleep doesn’t come easy, but it comes. It comes because it has to, reluctant as it is.

He wakes up to the voice of an unfamiliar woman. Quieter than Ellie or Sarah, less stern than Maria or Tess. Not like he was expecting to hear from three out of four of those women, not outside of his dreams. 

You’ve always cared about people, saving lives and all that. But you’re no good with a gun, so Tommy finds a better job than patrol for you.  

“You’re going to be watching my brother, Joel.”

“Like, spying on him?”

“No, like making sure he doesn’t kill himself.”

A suicidal man is nothing new, especially in this world, but Tommy’s bluntness about it is. He acts as if it’s a normal job. Like the ones in office buildings that sound wonderful even though the people who tell you about them assure you it was barely better than life is now. This new watchmen position is the same as patrol, in a way. Terrifying in the gravity it holds. You have to keep someone alive.

You can shoot deer, you can run quickly, you can hide well. You can survive on your own. But, at age 10, your mom bled out as you sat by her side. You were too weak to carry her, to dig a grave and bury her. Your survival feels unearned, but you’re no good with guns. You’d miss if you tried to do it. That’s a rare thought anyway, and surely not one you plan to ever speak aloud. They’d put you on watch too, which sounds suffocating, in all honesty.

You don’t know Joel. You’ve heard his name in passing, but you arrived in Jackson during the period of time he was gone. He was going to take some girl to some hospital for something or other. 

“What about that girl?” you ask. “Is she not taking care of him?”

“She’s not around anymore.”

“Oh,” you say. 

He just nods. The ‘why’ of the whole arrangement makes sense, but you’re still unclear on the ‘how’. Am I just supposed to stay in his house 24/7? Is he allowed to shower on his own? Do I have to cook or do laundry?

“Just check in on him. He’s not the most… personable, but don’t take anything he says to heart.”

Just check in on him. It sounds simpler than it will be, you know that much. Even keeping a plant alive takes more than ‘checking in on it’. 

You arrive at his house around 10 AM. You assume he’ll be awake, but when you look around his living room and kitchen, you can’t find him. Oh God, you think. What if he’s… 

He’s asleep in bed. You’re pretty sure. He’s lying there and there’s no evidence that anything’s wrong, but when you say his name from the doorway, he doesn’t move. So, you walk closer to him, just to make sure he’s breathing. 

“Joel,” you say softly – because your other option is reaching out to touch him, and you feel that’s a little too personal, especially when he’s not wearing a shirt. 

“Who the Hell are you and how did you get into my house?” he says. 

“Tommy sent me.”

“Oh, so they’re making you watch me?”

“Yeah.”

You’re glad he knows about the arrangement. Maybe he’ll give you some direction on what to do with him. 

“Must hate you if they stuck you with me.” 

You can’t tell if he’s being ironic, but you hope so. Still, you don’t know how to respond. You decide on a simple, “I’ll let you get some sleep. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

Though you’re alone in the room, you sit with perfect posture on Joel’s couch, looking around at the decor – or lack thereof – looking for clues about who this man is. 

You think about making him breakfast, but you’d have to raid his cabinets to do so, and you’re terrified to make any missteps when it comes to Joel. You don’t think he’ll kill himself over burnt toast, but there is a persistent need lodged inside your brain to make him like you. It’s a little selfish when you should be focused on just keeping him alive, but maybe if he likes you, he’ll feel better, maybe you’ll feel better too. That’s still nothing but the ever-lingering hope in your heart. But it’s something.

He comes downstairs eventually, in a t-shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms. 

“Good morning,” you say. 

“No, it ain’t,” he says, heading in the direction of the kitchen. 

“Do you want me to help you with anything? Breakfast or coffee?”

“I can make my own damn coffee, kid.”

And he does. The first shred of kindness you get from him is an offer to pour you a cup. 

“I’m alright, but thank you.”

He sits down in a chair across from you and sips his coffee as you watch him awkwardly. 

“Are you really gonna do that all day?”

“Do what?”

“Sit there and stare at me.”

“I don’t know what else to do.”

“You could leave, for starters.”

“I’ll get in trouble.”

“What? You afraid Tommy’ll get upset with you?”

“A little.”

“He’s a softie. I wouldn’t worry too much.”

You are worried. Sure, you want Tommy to be happy with you, but moreover, you don’t want to leave Joel alone lest something happen to him. You might not know the guy very well, but you’d hate to see someone take their own life. 

“Can I just stay here? I promise I’ll leave you alone.”

He shrugs, and you take it as a yes.

He does not need a caregiver or a watchman. He does not need you, but you look like a kicked puppy and there’s no way he’ll force you to leave. Another young girl he’ll reluctantly let stick by his side. It’s almost cruel of Tommy to send someone like you. Someone young and full of life. Someone he has a hard time pushing away. 

He should’ve sent Joel a crotchety old bitch or a drill sergeant. Maybe Tommy thinks he’s doing Joel a favor by giving him a nice girl, polite and eager to please. It’s a good thing your chipper attitude irritates him. It’s the first item on the very small list of qualities that Joel dislikes.

At first, he insists on making his own food. You’re still a guest, even if he’s reluctant to have you as one. It doesn’t matter where he lives, he’ll always have been raised in Texas. He’ll always hear his mother calling him out on his lack of manners. His hospitality is force of habit.

Plus, if he lets you do anything for him, he’ll owe you something – at least in his mind. And he doesn’t want to owe anyone anything. He doesn’t want to give or get or build any kind of rapport with you whatsoever, especially since you seem to take all attention as progress, despite the fact that Joel is harsh with you most of the time. 

The whole ordeal makes him feel like more of a failure than he did before. He couldn’t save Ellie, or Sarah for that matter, and now he’s being forced into his own retirement or held hostage depending on how you look at it, so he can’t even get the satisfaction that productivity brings.

He also finds himself pretty fucking bored without work. He became so used to being in constant battle, even in his sleep. One wrong move and he was dead. The worst injury he’s gotten in the past few weeks was a paper cut.

Reading was never his biggest hobby, but it’s not bad when you find the right book. Often, you’ll sit across the room from him and read a book of your own, and the silence as he relaxes into the couch is quite peaceful for a change. 

No amount of peace and quiet can cure his boredom, though. It makes him antsy, and you notice. You notice a lot when your job is just staring at him, it seems.

“I found a book of crossword puzzles,” you announce. 

“Congratulations,” Joel says. 

“I thought since you were bored, I’d give them to you, and maybe you could do them…”

By the look on your face, he can guess that you’re regretting your words. Lest he make you cry, he accepts the book. 

“Plus, it looks kind of old so I don’t know if I’d know how to do it myself,” you add.

He knows you don’t mean it as an insult, but it sounds like one, and it makes him laugh. The list of qualities Joel likes about you is already long — and buried deep in his subconscious — but he’ll have to add the fact that you can make him laugh.

“Are you calling me old?”

“Not in a bad way. You’re just older than I am.”

He flips through the book and finds that about 80% of them are done. 

“Somebody did most of these already.”

“I’m sorry… maybe I could erase that person’s answers and then you could do them?”

“I think I’d still be able to tell.”

You hang your head in defeat. 

“Gimme a pencil and I’ll try the ones that aren’t done yet.”

You look through his junk drawer, find a pencil, and hand it to him. He doesn’t expect you to sit on the couch next to him. 

“I know you’re supposed to watch me, but you don’t have to watch that closely.”

You move away slightly, no longer looking over his shoulder. 

“I was just curious about the answers.”

“I was kidding around,” he says (though, it’s only a half-truth). “Come back here.”

It takes him about a week to finish the book. 

“Had to go back and fix some of the others,” he says. “The person who originally filled ‘em out was an idiot.”

“That’s not very nice. Maybe it was a kid.”

“Kid had great handwriting, then.”

You pause, hesitating for a reason he can’t pinpoint. 

“What? You want me to say sorry for calling that guy an idiot. ‘Cause I will if it matters that much to you.”

“No, no, fuck that guy, he was an idiot,” you say, clearly taking after him. 

“Language, Missy,” he says, jokingly scolding you. 

“Sorry. I should stop swearing.”

“It’s okay. You probably picked it up from me anyway.”

“Maybe,” you agree. You’re fidgeting, holding something behind your back, he notices. 

“Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” you say, holding it out to him. “I just figured since you finished the crossword book, I should get you more.”

He only did the crosswords for you. He never really cared for them anyway. He just wanted to make you happy — he’d rather have you content than pissy or whiny. The only thing worse than your constant insistence on getting his approval would be if you just sat there and cried all day.

He’d tried to give the book back to you, but you couldn’t do ‘em on your own since you were lacking in 90s pop culture knowledge. So, he did them, with you watching over his shoulder the whole time. 

He’s about to admit this to you and hand the new one back over to you when he looks at the pages – white paper, stapled together, all drawn up in pen. 

“Did you make these?” he asks, in awe of both your ability to draw perfectly straight lines, and moreover, how much you must care if you’re willing to go to these lengths. Kiss-ass behavior, he tells himself.

You nod, and he gets the sudden urge to hug you, but opts for a thank you with a smile he can’t repress.

“You didn’t have to do all this, but it’s very sweet of you.”

He considers taking back the ‘very sweet’ comment when he finds that 3 down is four letters with the prompt “grumpy old man”. JOEL fits perfectly in the blank spaces. 

You go on walks, read endless books, and Joel finally lets you start taking on some of the housework. It should be nice, but you get the feeling he’s not all that happy about this situation. Not that he tells you it outright. He doesn’t tell you much at all. And you’ve tried. It’s not like you’re asking hard-hitting questions. 

“How old are you?” 

“56.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue.”

He doesn’t even bother to ask the same question back to you. Sometimes, he doesn’t even look up at you when you speak to him. You know it’s the depression of losing someone close to you, you know what that feels like – the problem is, you don’t know how to fix it. You only know how to hide it.

It’s quite simple, in theory. All you have to do is give him the desire to get out of bed every day. But you don’t even know what he likes. All you know is that your presence is not high on his list of favorite things. You try and try until you swear his shitty attitude is rubbing off on you. 

Tommy checks in with you periodically, asking you how things are going with Joel, and this would be the perfect opportunity for you to get out of this position, which Joel would probably love, but to spite him, you tell Tommy it’s going well.

And it is, in a way – Joel is not actively mean to you. He doesn’t insult you or argue with you, he just mostly ignores you. So, you figure if you ignore him, maybe he’ll miss your attention. Stupid teenage bullshit mindset, acting like you have a crush on him, playing some sort of push and pull game that he’s not even privy to. 

But that’s not like you. That brooding behavior is all Joel, so it lasts no more than a day or so until you go back to trying, and accept the fact that he’s just an asshole. Doesn’t mean you have to be one. 

You never expected to win him over with the crossword puzzles but you see the look in his eyes when you give him the homemade ones, and you know there’s something in there besides all that pain. You know that look, can’t put a name to it, all you know is that it’s a good sign, one you had yet to see from Joel.

Joel wouldn’t have thought he’d get tired of hearing someone ask, “can I do anything for you?”, constantly begging to dote on him, to care for him. The last time someone did this for him was on Father’s Day, which is an ancient holiday now, almost mythical.

But it’s been weeks of the same old shit. It has nothing to do with you. In fact, you’re probably the best ‘caregiver’ he could’ve gotten stuck with. Thing is, though, he doesn’t want a caregiver, and he’s tired of said caregiver bombarding him. It’s enough to just have her watching him like a hawk, but yapping in his ear is another thing. Because he enjoys the quiet (and because the way you ask him questions reminds him of Ellie.)

It’s a joke, a stupid joke. It’s his patience wearing thin.

“Can I get you anything?” you ask. 

“Sure. A beer, maybe. And a fuckin’ blowjob,” he mutters. Yeah, that’d be the dream but it’s a joke, bordering on a jab at you. 

“I don’t think we have any beer,” you say. You both know damn well there’s no alcohol in the house. 

“I know.”

“And, as for the other thing- is that something that you’d want… me to do?”

“Hey,” his tone softens. “Sweetheart, it was a joke. I was messing with you.”

“Okay, so you don’t want that, correct?”

“It was a joke. I’m sorry I even said it.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you say, sheepishly. “It’s your house, your rules, right?”

The concept of free speech in his house was one he’d brought up regarding ‘swear words’— It’s his house so he’s allowed to say ‘fuck’, ‘shit’, ‘bitch’, and every other word he could come up with, and he came up with some deep cuts just to make you laugh. Admittedly, it’s a nice sound.

“Yeah.” He thinks for a moment. “I just think that these sorts of topics aren’t appropriate for someone…”

“You know I’m an adult, right, Joel?”

“Yes, I know, but you’re still young and you seem a little innocent. I don’t want to put those types of thoughts in your head.”

“I know what a blowjob is, and I know what sex is. I just haven’t found the right person yet. That doesn’t mean I’ve never thought about it or whatever.”

You rarely snap at him, so he knows that word — innocent — must’ve been more offensive than he’d meant it. Maybe you’re not innocent. Maybe you’re just kind and a hell of a lot younger than him. Maybe it just seems like you should be.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just saying that I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“But do you want it?” You punctuate every word with a newfound annoyance.

“It’s not about that.”

“Yes it is.” You’re quite incredulous for someone who has been presented with the idea only a moment ago.

“Fine. Yes, in theory, if we were just two people who know each other, then, sure, if you offered, I’d say yes.”

“I offered.”

The way he calls you ‘sweetheart’ feels more like an insult than a term of endearment. You’d rather be ‘kid’ or nothing at all, anything less patronizing. It’s worse when he calls you innocent. You’re not innocent, you’re just nice — something that Joel is not. You’re painfully nice. You’ve heard it makes people like you. You’re still waiting on the results, though.

But, if he’d ordered you to suck him off, you’d have kneed him in the balls, and he would’ve thought twice about calling you ‘sweetheart’. The thing is, he doesn’t. Instead, he backs away from the opportunity, tells you it was a joke. 

But you see two things behind his eyes: one, he wants this. He might not want to want this, but he does. More importantly, you see his genuine concern for your well-being override this desire and you realize you feel safer around him than you do around most men. That’s one of the reasons that you do give him ‘a fuckin’ blowjob’. The other being that, sometimes, before you go to bed, you can’t sleep, and a certain man comes to mind as your fingers slip beneath the waistband of your panties. 

When you reiterate that you offered, you exchange a long stare wherein you try to reach into each other’s souls and sort this shit out but when you both realize you can’t, Joel says, “Okay.”

And you say, “Okay.”

A new kind of tension bubbles to the surface as Joel sits down on the couch and you kneel before him. 

You fiddle with his belt, eventually managing to get it undone, but Joel does the rest of the work it takes to get his pants down to his ankles, boxers too. 

You’d imagined he’d be big, but that’s how fantasies work. Every man’s dick is big in your lewd daydreams, but it’s like you manifested it with Joel. You begin to feel like you’re in over your head, and though you aren’t innocent, you aren’t experienced enough to take him. But who are you to back down from a challenge?

Joel can see hesitation wash over your face for the first time. You pause, study the scene like you’re trying to decide your approach, and then you take his cock in your hand, looking up at him like you’re asking for the green light.

He gives you the go-ahead with the only piece of advice he thinks you’ll need. “Just don’t bite, and you’ll do fine.”

He probably should’ve mentioned another thing: don’t take too much at once or you’ll choke. His head lolls back and his eyes fall closed the moment your lips meet the tip of it. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t want you to feel intimidated by his presence while you’re exploring, so to speak. He lets out a low groan of approval to let you know he’s still with you.

But he’s fading into a beautiful oblivion until he hears you gag, feels you sputter and it shocks him out of that blissful feeling. His eyes snap open and he cradles the back of your head. 

“Easy, easy,” he says. “Don’t hurt yourself.” 

You pull away briefly and catch your breath. 

“That’s good,” he says. “Breathe, baby.”

He can see you looking for instructions, so he takes your hand and helps you get a firm grip on his cock, sliding your hand up and down, and finally letting you do it on your own. 

“Doin’ good, baby,” he says. “You gotta give your mouth a break sometimes.”

You’ve never gotten anything close to praise from Joel before. It’d warm your heart like nothing else if it weren’t so goddamn sexy in this context. 

You nod, wipe the spit from your chin, and give your mouth a brief break, but you can’t hold yourself back forever. Soon, your lips are back on his cock, kissing from the base to the tip, flicking your tongue over the head, seeing what reactions you can get from him. 

When you get into the rhythm of hand and mouth in tandem, you barely register him telling you that he’s gonna come. 

You imagine it’s an acquired taste but it’s not awful. You can swallow it. So, you do, and you look up at him with a smile. 

He looks like he’s woken up from a dream and he’s still getting his bearings straight, but he’s quick to stand up and take your hand. 

“Where are we going?”

“To my bed.”

You’d follow him anywhere but bed does sound good to you right now. It sounds like an adventure. You don’t go into his bedroom unless absolutely necessary. You’d think he was hiding something horrible in there if you didn’t have a mutual feeling regarding your own bedroom.

“Are we going to have sex?” you ask. 

“No,” he says. 

“Then, what are we going to do?”

“You,” he begins. “Are going to lie back and relax.”

He coaxes you to lie down, and he doesn’t have to try hard. 

“I,” he continues. “Am going to make you feel good.”

You’re fairly certain about what he means, so there’s nothing left for you to do but let him do the work. It’s just another part of the job you’ll have to learn from experience.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says. 

You nod. 

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Let’s get you out of these clothes,” he says, playing with the hem of your t-shirt. 

“Wait-” you say, sitting up, and he withdraws. “Can we kiss… first?”

He looks surprised for a moment, and you worry you’ve fucked up. 

“I just feel like we should do that,” you say, much quieter.

“Yeah,” he says. “I guess that makes sense.”

His hand cups your cheek and he looks you in the eyes like he’s trying to find answers somewhere in there. 

“Has anyone ever kissed you before?”

“Not really, not the way I want you to kiss me.”

“Feels a bit rude of me to have put my dick in your mouth before you’d even been kissed.”

Still, he leans in and kisses you, but it’s soft, gentle. It’s not a peck on the lips, though, it’s more. It gradually gains momentum and passion. Eventually, he slips his tongue in your mouth and you take it in stride. 

“You’re very good at this,” he says. “If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t think this was your first time.”

“Is that a compliment?” you ask, doubting Joel is capable of such things.

He ignores your question, and sighs. You know it’s not directed at you because you’re fairly sure he’s not listening.

“I know I said I was gonna do some things with you, but I don’t wanna take things too fast, okay?”

“Are you saying you’re just going to kiss me?”

“I think that’d be the right thing to do.”

“That’s not fair,” you whine.

You wish you could sound sexy, or whatever, but you probably come off like a bratty child.  

“Excuse me?”

“That’s not fair. You said you’d make me feel good. I thought you were gonna return the favor.”

“I was.”

“Then, why are you backing out?”

You’re shocked that he’s the pussy — pun-intended — in this scenario.

“I thought it might be too much for you.”

You grab his hand and slip it under the flimsy fabric of your shorts. 

His eyes go wide. 

Fucking hell, you’re wet, is the only thought on Joel’s mind. It makes sense. He’d be offended, maybe even worried if you were dry as a desert down there, but he’s barely touched you. Either you really enjoyed kissing him or you actually liked sucking him off too.

He gently presses the pads of his fingers against the wet spot on your panties.

“You’re right, baby. It’s only fair if I help you out.”

He’s able to get your shorts and your panties down in one swift pull. You look impressed by the action. Just you wait, he thinks. He’s not an expert by any means, but it’s not too hard to learn if you pay attention — and sex is one of the only times Joel does listen — it’s also not a skill you lose over time. It’s muscle memory, or maybe it’s innate.

His thumb rubs your clit lazily as he watches your face scrunch up in pleasure, your eyes fill with need. When the first finger slips inside you, he hears a breathy sigh come from above — it sounds like relief though he knows you haven’t come yet.

He’s never had a woman have such a strong reaction to his lips on her clit. It almost startles him at first. You’re frantic from the moment his lips meet your skin, crying out for him like you’re scared he’ll stop.

“Hey,” he says, “I’m right here. Don’t have to get so worked up. I’m gonna take care of you.”

He can’t say another word because his lips are occupied, so he relies on his hands, his soothing touch, to tell you that everything is alright. He gets the urge to tell you how good you are for him, how good you taste, how pretty you are like this, but he knows it’d be cruel to let up now. He’s callous often, sometimes harsh, but rarely cruel.

His instinct tells him to drag this out, to make your thighs shake, to have tears running down your cheeks, to tease you. To be the asshole that he tends to be when you’re around (and when you’re not). This is a version of Joel you might come to like.

He’s lived long enough to be well-practiced in this field of life. Doesn’t matter if he’s particularly romantic or even sociable, it’s just happened enough times over the course of fifty plus years for him to know the ins and outs. He can get you there quickly and lead you through it slowly.

He’s so used to you saying his name in a tone he considers pestering that he’s begun to hate the word itself. But when it’s drawn out and desperate like this, it sounds wonderful.

You’re at his mercy, he thinks. Which means he’s in control. And, as much as he’d hate to admit it, control does not mean he can kill you, control means he can care for you.

When you come down from your high, Joel is looking up at you from between your thighs with messy hair and kiss-dark lips. His smile looks like one of pride. Your cheeks heat up, only half-remembering what just happened. You could describe the event simply in a cause and effect relationship — he went down on you, so you came. You know what an orgasm feels like, but that was something beyond anything you’d ever experienced before. You fear an addiction may be coming on.

Your voice comes out shaky, which only makes your first words after a long silence sound stupider. “Thank you.”

He looks confused, and it takes him a moment to respond. “My pleasure,” he says, and you swear it might be when you see a semi through his sweatpants.

You’d offer more ‘help’ but you truly don’t think you can manage it. You can feel your body pulling you towards sleep. Your eyes have barely opened and they want to close again.

Joel notices because how could he not, you’re completely naked in every sense of the word.

“Get some rest,” he says before standing up.

He’s leaving.

“Where are you going?” you ask, instinctively.

“Downstairs.”

You do not want to say it. The fear of rejection is too strong, but so is the sudden urge to cry. Holding back tears is a strength of yours, though, so Joel never sees them. Somehow, after doing one of the most adult things, you feel like a baby in the wake of it. You are supposed to be taking care of him, and you are failing.

“What?” is his response to your refusal to meet his eyes.

“I just assumed you were going to stay. That’s all.”

“I can. If that’s what you need me to do.”

You don’t say anything. He climbs into bed anyway after picking up your underwear and handing it to you.

He doesn’t hold you but he doesn’t leave either. What he does do is kiss you on the forehead when he thinks you’re already asleep. It’s a compromise between your fear and your desire.

It isn’t as weird as one might think it would be — acting as if you’ve never done anything remotely sexual with one another. It’s easier because you don’t have to go back to being friends. You never really were. It was always awkward. What’s new? Only your knowledge that at least some of your feelings are mutual. Only the fact that you think about having sex with him every time he’s in front of you. It’s really just out of curiosity sometimes. What would he be like in bed? Does he want it too? How would you even broach the subject?

Sometimes, it’s not just curiosity. Those days are harder to navigate. You have to pretend like every little touch — most of them accidental — fuels the fire. It’s not the sensation itself. It’s just the acute awareness of his body, how close it is to yours, how easily you could reach out and touch him, that enters your mind.

“You’re staring.” Joel says from the other side of the couch.

“Sorry. I zoned out.”

“Got something’ on your mind?”

“Not really.”

“C’mon, what is it?”

“Why do you suddenly care about my thoughts?” About me.

“You think I didn’t care about you before? You’ve been in my house everyday for months now.”

“So?”

“And, I haven’t tried to kick you out yet.”

“You’re not allowed to kick me out. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Okay. How ‘bout this: I’m down here sitting with you because I know you don’t like to be alone.”

“So you pity me?”

“No, if I pitied you, I’d have told Tommy to give you a new job.”

“Okay, so, you expect me to believe you care but you refuse to talk to me half the time.”

“I’m not much of a talker. But, now that I’m trying to talk to you, you’re shutting me out.”

“I’m not— It’s just not a big deal. I don’t even remember what I was thinking about anyway.”

“Bullshit.”

“What?”

“I said, that’s bullshit.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll talk.”

You take a deep breath before speaking, one long enough that he gestures for you to go on.

“I was just thinking about what it would be like if we had sex.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, since we, you know, we did that stuff… it’s not like it’s a totally crazy thought.”

“‘That stuff’? Be more specific, honey.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“I do, but you can’t be thinking about having sex with me when you can’t even use big girl words when you’re talking about it.”

“It doesn’t even matter.” Your face is burning. It so, totally, does matter. “I was just curious.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Mm-hmm. Go on thinking, I’ll get back to reading.”

“Wait, what? You just made me tell you that to make me embarrassed? You’re not even gonna—”

“What? Gonna fuck you?”

The word slips out of his mouth so easily.

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Well, I’m not.”

Truth is: he’s been thinking about you every day since. He only caught you staring because he was doing the same. He tries to restrain himself because it feels like the right thing to do.

But he still, he acquiesces and takes you upstairs to his bedroom.

He lays you down on the bed and undresses you slowly like you’re a gift and he doesn’t want to tear the paper. He places your clothes atop the dresser, but leaves his strewn across the floor.

Wonder fills your eyes as he reveals his naked body. Hesitation and awe wrapped up in one.

“Wow,” you say, breaking the silence, “it’s, um, you know— do you think it’ll fit?”

It’s not the first time he’s heard that. It no longer brings him that bashful pride that it did when he was younger. It’s just a fact. A nuisance sometimes.

“Not if we don’t get you ready first.”

“Do you need to get ready first too?”

He looks down at his cock, rock-hard and eager.

“No, baby, just looking at you is enough to get me ready.”

A thought crosses his mind — one he thought he’d left in his teenage years — what if he comes too quickly?

He lies back on the bed next to you and reaches for you, waits for you to let him maneuver you.

“Come here,” he says.

You sit up and face him, slowly inch towards his arms that beckon you.

You’re fairly sure you know what he wants you to do. Sit on his face. But god, something about it seems awkward in the amount of control you simultaneously give up and are given in turn.

“You trust me, right?” he asks.

“Of course.”

An answer you wouldn’t have ever thought you’d give back when you first met.

“Then, come sit on my face.”

You swing your leg over him and steady yourself above his face.

He grips your thighs to guide you. You grip the headboard to save yourself from passing out the moment Joel’s mouth meets your skin.

Joel wouldn’t be the man you’d have thought would have such a talented tongue based on how little he uses it. You can’t blame him for not talking right now. Your moans echo off his bedroom walls and permeate the balmy summer air. The windows are closed and the curtains shield your naked bodies from the neighbors but even if you’d left them open, you wouldn’t have the sense to care.

You’re an incoherent mess of moans and half-words, trembling thighs and sweat. Your orgasm comes on strong, and if your eyes weren’t screwed shut, maybe you’d see the gates of heaven.

It’s been a while since he’s done this. Tess never liked it like this and the last woman before her was one from another lifetime, pre-outbreak, an inconceivable world despite having once called it home.

He’s not really thinking about that, though, in this moment, all Joel can think of is you. Your skin, your sweat, your heat, and the pretty noises you make. At one point, he swears he hears his name though your thighs are covering his ears. And he doesn’t mind it one bit.

“I’m gonna pass out,” he hears from above him.

“No, you’re not. I’ve got you,” he tries to say, though surely his words are muffled.

“Don’t let me go.”

He doesn’t. He carefully helps you lie back on the bed. When he meets your gaze, he swears he’s never seen adoration like that in anyone’s eyes before. At least, not in a long time.

It terrifies him, but in spite of his hesitation, he holds you close.

A blanket of peaceful silence settles over your bare bodies.

You speak quietly, trying not to awaken Joel’s senses. The ones that pull him away from you. The moment feels like glass in your hands.

“Are we going to have sex?”

“Hm?”

“We were going to, right? You were getting me ready for it.”

“I thought I wore you out.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I want to stop.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’d tell you if you were.”

He hesitates.

“I’ll be good. I promise.”

Those are the words that awaken his arousal. In an instant, you find his body looming above yours. He kisses you until your lips are red and puffy. He doesn’t break your gaze as he positions his cock at your entrance. Your green light is your needy hips begging him to fuck you.

He starts slow, even the head is a stretch. You scrunch up your face and hold back the urge to squirm.

“It’s gonna be a little uncomfortable at first, baby, and that’s why we’re gonna take it slow.”

Slow is an understatement. It takes ages for him to give you another inch — or maybe you’re just antsy. This one makes you whimper, makes you clamp down around him.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re gonna be fine.”

Joel’s voice is tender and sweet, and it gives you enough hope to ask for something you think he’d usually deny you.

“Can you hold my hand?”

He interlocks his fingers with yours. It feels oddly natural. He doubts he’s heard someone ask to hold his hand since— not now, he’ll go soft if he thinks about her. He’ll close in on himself and you need him — in more ways than one.

He continues slowly as he promised he would until he hears your moans of pleasure and your pleas for more, more, more. More is a little bit faster, a little bit harder, as deep as you can take it, and most importantly, his thumb tracing circles on your clit.

You squeeze his hand with yours as your inner walls clamp down around him.

“Just let it happen. It’s okay. I’m right here.”

When you come, he does too — the most blissful mistake he’s ever made.

Curses fly out of his mouth through his orgasm, stopping briefly as he catches his breath, and resuming when he pulls out and watches as his come drips out of you.

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you insist. “I liked it.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” Because I fucking loved it. “But, it’s dangerous. We’ve gotta be more careful.”

In the future — it’s implied. Another time is nothing when the lines have all been crossed and when the other side brings him a warmth the hot summer never could.

You have more power over him than the sun.

It becomes a routine — briefly — and you are more careful. You discreetly buy condoms, but when your next period doesn’t come, you fear it might be too late.

You don’t tell Joel, not at first. Sometimes, they’re irregular, and you don’t want to give the man a heart attack. But then a week passes, another week passes, and eventually you have to — especially when you’re beginning to feel a bit nauseous and have no other explanation for it. It’s better to say something before he asks.

“Joel,” you say, “I haven’t gotten my period yet.”

A look of horror crosses his face before he asks, “How late is it?”

You take a breath before admitting, “A few weeks.”

“How many?”

“Almost three.”

“Fuck.” He sighs in preemptive defeat. “Have you taken a test?”

“No, I thought it would come so I didn’t want to overreact.”

“We’re going to go get one.”

He stands up immediately and turns towards the door.

“Wait,” you say, stopping him in his tracks.

“I should probably get it. It’ll look less suspicious.”

No, it won’t. Those who suspect something is up with you, will have their suspicions, and those who don’t, won’t think to pay attention.

They recommend taking multiple because false negatives are common.

The first one is a clear positive, so clear you think it might be a false positive, so you wait to freak out until you see two lines come up on the second test.

Joel is silent, even when you hand him the test.

But, so are you, because what more is there to say? The tests say it all.

“I’ll do whatever you need me to,” he says, and you’re surprised until he clarifies.

“I doubt they’ll make you pay for the pill or the procedure — however they do it, but I’ll take care of you while you’re recovering. I’ll be there through it all. Promise.”

The pill or the procedure. The abortion that he expects you to have. Truth be told, you hadn’t really thought about what you’d do until now. It’s probably the right decision. Do you really want to bring a baby into this world? Can you even take care of one?

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll make an appointment.”

You save your tears for Maria. She approaches you in the clinic. You’d be delighted to see her at any other moment.

“Making an appointment?” she asks.

“Yeah, just a checkup,” you lie.

The woman at the counter clarifies with you. “Just a checkup? Is that what you’d prefer?”

You turn back and forth between her and Maria.

“Um, no,” you say, “keep it as is.”

Maria raises an eyebrow and there is nowhere left to hide. You might be able to outrun her, but she knows where you live and isn’t afraid to confront you at your doorstep.

She saves you some of your dignity when she whispers, “How about a chat at my place? I have some tea that helps with nausea.”

The tea is persuasive but you’d have to go anyway. You don’t speak on the walk to Maria’s. She brews the tea and you sit across from each other in the kitchen before she finally speaks.

“What’s the appointment for?” she asks. “And I’m not here to judge you, I just want the truth.”

You’re not my mom, you could say, but she’s the closest thing you’ve had to one since your own passed.

“An abortion,” you say quietly, looking down at the table, at your hands around the mug.

“Okay,” she says, gently. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You try to reply but all the comes out is a sob.

Eventually, she pries the truth out of you. You explain what happened when you told Joel the news.

“So, he made the decision, and then told you he’d be there for you if he did what you wanted?”

“I guess. But, I think it might be the right choice. I mean, it'd be hard to raise a child in this world…” You cut yourself off when you look at her bump. She’s gonna be a mom, a good mom. And, stupidly, you’re jealous.

Even though it’s not there yet, you swear you can see a high chair in your periphery. You could be holding a warm bottle instead of a hot mug of tea. Maria could be feeding her child his first bite of baby food next to you.

“Let me ask you something, and I want you to really think about it, and be honest with me.”

You nod and wait for her question.

“If Joel had said he’d support you no matter what, even if you wanted to keep the child, if he said he’d step up as a father, would you have made the appointment?”

“I don’t know.” Oh, but you do. Maria waits for you to come to a conclusion, for you to spit it out.

“I like the idea of having a kid. I love kids, and I sometimes think about what it would be like being a mom, but I know that I can’t be one. Not right now.”

If there is one thing Joel can’t be, it’s a father. Not again. He’s too old, too grouchy, too cynical. He’s not the man he used to be. He was never good at it anyway. He couldn’t save his own kid. He’s already a failed father — once, if not, twice.

You’d be a great mother, and that’s the greatest tragedy. He’s failed you already. He’s not good at the kinder things of life. He shouldn’t have indulged in you, in the love you gave him when he cannot give it back. There are a lot of things Joel can’t quite get right — being a lover, a father, a good man.

Every night since the outbreak began, he’s watched Sarah bleed out in his arms. Sometimes he sees Tess, Sam and Henry, Bill, even Tommy which feels like an augury. Ellie is there almost every night, losing consciousness. Only sometimes is she in that hospital bed, often, she’s lying in the show, with blue lips and almost no pulse. Now, you’ve begun to enter his subconscious. You’re always too far out of reach, screaming his name until he’s shot dead, and the last thing he hears is you shriek as you watch him die in front of you.

Another person is another tragedy once they have the misfortune of coming into his life. There cannot be another person, especially not a child.

You should be back by now, he thinks as he splashes water on his face for the umpteenth time, hoping it’ll wash away all the mistakes he’s made.

He can tell it’s Maria by the way her knuckles rap on his front door. He can tell she’s pissed too.

When he opens the door, he sees you in standing behind her, like you’re afraid of him.

“Unless you want to have this discussion on your doorstep, I suggest you let me — us — inside.”

He does, reluctantly.

“Joel Miller, when do you plan on becoming a man?”

“What?”

“You just told her to make an appointment, didn’t even give her a chance to think about it? You managed to run away from your problems while you’re on house arrest. Impressive.”

“I thought that was what we both wanted,” he says, looking past her, to you.

“I guess, maybe,” you shrug.

The one thing he’s grateful for is Maria’s suggestion that you talk privately.

You sit further from him than usual, you refuse to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask what you wanted. I thought I was making the right choice.”

“It’s okay. I don’t even know what I want.”

But the tears suggest otherwise.

“Do you want to keep the baby?”

“Maybe, but I can’t. It’s not a good idea.”

“That’s what I think, but Maria’s right, it’s your choice.”

“But I don’t know how to make that choice.”

“You’ve got a good heart. Follow it.”

You spend a lot of time thinking, remembering, and trying to convince yourself that there is no part of you that wants to be a mother. But, in your bedside drawer, there is a handful of photos — all from before the outbreak. You see your mom as a child on a swing set, and as a teen blowing out candles on her birthday. Her mom is in that one too, sitting next to her, smiling. You wish more than anything to have pictures of you and your mom.

You think about the little girl who pretended a ratty old stuffed bear was her baby. You can hear your mom telling you that you’re doing a good job, how you’ll be good at this one day. Your bedtime stories were never about fairy princesses, but about your family, the ones you didn’t get to meet.

“I wish I could have that,” you’d say.

“One day, you might be able to — the world is scary right now, but that doesn’t mean it’s gonna be like this forever,” she’d insist.

In retrospect, you wonder if she really believed that, if she really believed that teddy bear would one day be a baby that you’d be the one carrying, and she’d be the proud grandmother.

“I told her I wanted to be a mom like her,” you explain to Joel, and he understands.

You know about Ellie, but not about Sarah. Joel never brings either of them up to you. Until now. It’s a fair trade, he tells himself. Photos for photos, info for info. But it’s more than that.

“Hold on for one minute, I’m gonna go get something, and I’ll be right back.”

It’ll only take him a second to grab the pictures, but he’ll need a moment to compose himself.

“This is Sarah,” he says, pointing to the little girl in the photo. “My daughter.”

You’re silent for a moment, gazing at the photo, at a younger Joel you’ve never met.

You’re the first person not to tell him that you’re sorry for his loss, and he is relieved not to hear the empty sympathies once more.

“What was she like?” you ask.

It’s hard to explain, and for that reason, he talks for at least a half hour about Sarah. All her likes and dislikes, all his favorite moments from the day she was born until the day she died. He tells the story of that too.

When you try to tell him that he sounds like he was a good dad, he has to explain why he wasn’t.

“I couldn’t save her,” he says.

“I couldn’t save her either,” you say, pointing to your mother in one of the photos.

“You were just a child,” he says. “It’s not your fault.”

“And, you were just a man,” you say. “It’s not your fault.”

“A grown man.”

“Doing the best that you could.”

And you’re right. He did try his best. He stops arguing not because he’ll ever concede but because the weight of the present falls upon him all at once as he meets your eyes and remembers why you’re here.

He can’t have Sarah back, he can’t have Ellie back, but you’re right in front of him — and he loves you. It’s too late to turn back and kick you out on your first day, it’s too late to never speak to you, it’s too late to not love you.

It’s not too late to fail you like he’s failed everyone else. It’s not too late to do the opposite either.

You tell him your decision, and wait for his disagreement, for him to dissuade you. But, he doesn’t.

“Okay,” he says.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to try my best.”

You cancel the appointment and make the final decision, but it doesn’t feel real until Joel finishes building the crib in the spare bedroom. The most unexpected part is how excited you feel even when you’re nauseous, even when your feet are bloated, even when your back is killing you.

You’re also terrified, particularly when you hear Maria’s account of her labor and delivery. For someone describing how painful it was, she seems oddly unfazed, happy even. She’s too focused on her baby boy, and you get it — he is pretty cute.

When the day comes, you find that you’ve underestimated the pain entirely. The wounds you’ve gotten in combat are nothing compared to this. Every hour that goes by feels like a full day for you. Every time the doctor checks your dilation it’s still not yet time.

Until it is. And everything becomes a million times more chaotic. You swear the only thing keeping you sane is Joel’s hand in yours. (You have to apologize later for squeezing it so tightly.)

Finally, the telltale cry comes, and it feels like you’ve run a marathon by how exhausted you are and by how proud you are of yourself for doing it. This will go down as the greatest feat of your life and you are more than satisfied with that fact.

The doctor announces that it’s a boy and though he said he’d be fine with either gender, Joel’s smile is wider than you’ve ever seen it. You’re smiling almost as big. It hurts your cheek muscles but you can’t stop, especially when they hand you your baby boy. Though he doesn’t know how to speak, his hand wrapped around your finger tells you that it’s going to be okay.

There is so much pain in this world, but not in this room.

[yougavememyopia]

Part 1. I changed the header cause I used too many of the "anime boy gif" for crybaby, so that's just his thing now. Honestly, idk if you guys like slow paced better but here it is. Tags: Swearing. The L word. NSFW in the end, dry humping. The usual.

Popular yandere, who was politely sat with a cheerful smile. Eyes looking at your figure frantically picking up the trash and the clothes scattered around. He offered to help you a few times and insisted he was an excellent cleaner and would be of great help to you. But you turned him down—knowing you had plenty of dirty articles of clothing that were not the most appropriate to see.

You told him to wait outside. To save you the crippling embarrassment that might haunt you for years to come. It just never crossed your mind that a living, breathing human being would willingly want to be in a romantic relationship with you. If you went back in time to tell yourself someone super popular, so unbelievably hot, was head over heels for you—well, you'd probably tell yourself to fuck off. 

Nevertheless, you had no idea your procrastination would come back to bite you. This dude literally went on his knees and bawled his eyes out for you… YOU. The invisible outcast who had terrible social skills. Now he was sitting on your bed quietly, watching your every move with half-lidded eyes and a dreamy smile, hoping one of those dirty underwear would accidentally fall on his face.

You continued running around, shoving filthy things into random drawers to get the work done quicker. Yet it seemed like the work would never stop. Your desk filled with empty cans and mysterious stains. “Ohh, why is it so messy here?!” 

“I can wait.” He replied quickly. “I will wait as long as it takes, darling. I really do not mind.” 

You paused. A weird feeling in your chest when he called you that nickname. Did he really become your boyfriend just like that? It was going to take a while for you to get adjusted to his presence, let alone his nicknames. He really existed in the same room as you at the same time willingly. Wow.

“Uhhh, yeah. I'm, um, sorry you had to see that, I guess. I don't usually have guests.”

He smiled a bit too widely at that. Almost as if he was very pleased to hear that. Already possessive of you when you only started dating a few hours ago. 

Taking a seat beside him, you awkwardly shifted on your familiar mattress and leaned back to the headboard of your bed. Failing to make any kind of eye contact. His gaze was so intense—it made you feel all tingly and confused. You started feeling conscious of yourself, wondering where to put your hands and if you should cross your legs or put them on your head. He was so flawless and proper, it made you a lot nervous.

“I wanted to thank you.” He spoke carefully. “I know you have trust issues, but I promise that I will NEVER be untrue.” You gulped involuntarily when he scooted closer; his aromatic smell wafted in the air. His pinkie entangled with yours, a childish gesture of commitment. His eyes widened slightly, and a glint of madness sparked in his eyes. “This feels right. As if it was meant to happen. I have never felt anything like this before. I want to do anything you ask. Whatever it takes to make sure you stay with me forever… Which should not be hard to do since no one else cares about you.”

“Should I be offended or question why that kinda turns me on?” Your brows furrowed at the last hushed part. You thought those condescending words were a bit out of character for him. But what do you know? The mask he kept around others was not there in your presence. 

It really didn't matter that he was a controlling, unstable maniac. It was hot actually. The way he threatened you with his love, the turmoil, his clinginess. He was like your own personal 'build a crazy boyfriend'.

His fingers intertwined with yours while he scooted closer to hover over your lap. Hands holding yours down, breath hitting your ear, lips parted to speak in a low, threatening tone. Heat going straight to your core. “You are never leaving me. I will make sure of it. We are made for each other. It was fate! You cannot go against fate, right?

His voice sent a tingle through your body. A mix of chilling fear and, unsurprisingly, arousal from the warning. You'd always fantasized about things like this. A guy straddling your lap. On your bed. Moaning noisily as he made out with you, tugging at the hair behind your neck while he tried to suck the air out of your lungs. You felt wetness down there, like you creamed your pants or maybe it was merely the sticky sweat or rather both.

He was more obsessed and unhinged than any normal person you'd seen on the television— your relationship strange. But beggars couldn't be choosers, could they? Your perverted dreams were finally being fulfilled. Images of him dressed in lewd cute outfits, calling you various nicknames with his angelic voice, and begging for mercy when you stick a vibrator in his— Maybe you spent too much time in incognito. Yeah, definitely.

“Not to complain, or whatever. But isn't this moving a bit too fast? Shouldn't we, I don't know, slow down? And I can... go to the bathroom for a while.” You needed a chance to breathe, to scream into your hands and take a very, very long shower with how much you were sweating.

He pulled away to scowl. You never considered you'd get to see so many expressions in the span of your first day of dating. It almost made you proud. “TOO FAST?!?”

You swallowed, feeling like a spouse that forgot the other's birthday. He was acting as if you had said something outrageous. “Uhh… it's literally been a few hours. Plus, I need to check on my roblox games. Login streaks are the only achievement you need, am I right? Haha...” You awkwardly laughed while his expression remained unwavering. "Just kidding... I'm actually not that good but now I'm addicted, so..."

He opened his mouth but quickly closed it. What a tragic loser. (He can fix you. He will eventually!) He was always such a patient person—that was what the others told him. He was a good listener. A good comforter. Able to keep his mask of empathy and smiles. But with you… He felt selfish. Not really interested in what you wanted or if you felt overwhelmed. It was wrong of him; he understood that, yet at the same time, he couldn't bother to keep up his act. 

You went rambling on about your games. The daily logins, the online friends you had, the events... He bit his lip, holding back from screaming how many long, torturous months he stalked you, the illegal things he did in your name to fill the dark hole in his heart, and how exhausted he felt even after you believed him. You took your phone out of your pocket, his eyes sending jealous daggers to the device. Seriously? His competition was a machine?

"I'm not, like, gonna take long. I just... need to play for five minutes. If you don't mind..."

Of course he minded. What about his kisses? Your attention?!? He had a habit of not speaking his mind, and it would take practice to break the reinforced manner. Since you liked playing so much, he settled for a mind game. Something he quite liked doing to others when he felt bored. Something he had gotten really good at over the years. This time he'd take his performance up a notch. 

Tears welled up in his eyes, his hands leaving yours cold as he sat to the side. He could see the disappointment in your body language, your fingertips tightening their grip on the phone. He was quite good at picking up things like that. In a slumped position, he tilted his head down, blinking owlishly. Pitiful droplets running down his cheeks. He sniffled, “I humiliated myself. In front of everyone I knew. Are you saying it was not enough? That I am not enough?”

Your heart dropped when you saw him cry because of you. He looked beautiful doing anything. The mascara running down his perfect skin, how he chewed on his rosey lips and fidgeted with his long, flexible fingers—you almost forgot to respond. “Uh, what? No. No, I wasn't suggesting… What? I... Shit, my death count...”

His horrible desperation didn't take long to come out. Arms grabbing your shoulders, shoving you down, turning off the phone and throwing it across the room. "Hey! What the fuck? My precious phone..."

The longer he waited, the more impatient he got. He laid down beside you, burning his eyes into your avoidant one. You made him feel unlike his usual self; he didn't like it. Having to beg and cry for a simple touch was new. You had some nerve, playing hard to get when you were… YOU.

“Why do you treat the only guy who will ever love you this way? Why can't you play with me instead, darling...? I can be far more entertaining for you. I'm yours too.” He whispered while tugging on your collar, getting frustrated by how you kept looking away. “Please… Please look at me… Please just f-fucking look at me already!”

Finally, you made eye contact, his high-pitched tone grabbing your attention. He was crying again—genuinely this time. Not like you could tell the difference. “You swear now? I like it.” You joked, face flushed. He buried his face in your chest, pressing his body against yours and sobbing pathetically. 

You exhaled, hearing the echoing drumbeat of your heart. Your breath shaky when you felt just how soft his hair was. Running your fingers through his feathery hair, never much of a comforter. You were starting to learn from this recurrent event. “Shit. It's okay… We can go back to, um, what we were doing, y-yeah? Cause we're actually dating, heh. Dating. Funny word.” 

Shivers violently penetrated your body when his lips crashed into yours in a heated kiss. What was this guy's problem? One moment he acted like that perfect gentleman, and the next like some sort of needy dog. His lips moved desperately with yours; his tongue plunging in your mouth to lick and taste everywhere. His hand around your wrist, assisting you to stroke his hot, toned body under his clothes. Whining, “Yeah, yeah, don't stop, please… It feels sososo good. Please. I need more, more, more, more… I love this. I love you!” 

“Huh? S-sorry? What did you…” The room was spinning, your words slurring as he started unbuttoning his shirt. Clumsily and hurried. His skin feverish to touch, rubbing and pushing his lower half against yours absentmindedly. Your attention was drawn downwards, distracted, struggling to think about the words he whimpered before. "I'm literally gonna pass out. After all the late nights watching hentai, I get to see a real-"

He cut you off with another kiss, not happy with being reminded of how you liked a lot of fictional characters. If it couldn't be helped, he merely had to distract you—puting your hand on his nicely-shaped ass and hope you get the gist and squeeze. Noisy groans and moans filling the small room while he shared his spit with yours. He knew you read smut from your phone activity, and he wanted to play the part for you. Make you feel so unbelievably good, you'd get addicted just like he was. That way you'd never go back to your stupid intelligent box.

"Can I continue rubbing my c-cock against you...? Pretty please? See this power over me, darling...? It's all for you. I need you. I have never felt so ha... hard. Nngh! Please, let me..."

He placed your leg over his hip to find a better, satisfying angle. Moving faster and faster when you nodded. Repeatedly saying your name like a prayer, whispering how close he was, climaxing right after you. The wet part of your fronts still rubbing against eachother after coming. Panting against your lips, he licked up the drool at the corner of your mouth. The heat was too much. The pleasure was too much.

His face buried back in your neck, holding you tightly, content and pleased. He would've loved to do more, perhaps undress you, feel your unclothed chest against his, see what you hide underneath your baggy dark clothes. The thought of it already exciting him. But when he looked back up, you were unconscious.

[ao3commentoftheday]

I know "I'm bad at summaries" and "I'm bad at tags" are not sentiments to voice in the summary/tags of a fic. But, genuinely, I don't consider myself good at either. (This is background.)

The actual question is, how do I learn these? Especially tagging. My fandom background is sparse, at least far as participation in broader fandom culture is concerned, so I wasn't part of fandom when current tagging practices on AO3 evolved. It's difficult for me to grasp, and I suspect I end up treating the tags more like CWs than search terms as a result.

Great for people who want to filter out particular unpleasant elements. Not so great for people who can't find my fic because I didn't think to tag something someone else might see as obvious. I have severe social anxiety so joining e.g. a Discord to ask for help isn't really a viable option. Tagging fic isn't worth panic attacks.

Tagging fic isn't worth panic attacks.

100% agreed!

When it comes to being "good at tagging" that definition is going to vary from person to person. It will also vary depending on what your goal is.

I'm a fairly minimal tagger myself. I'll tag the fandom and the major characters, the general vibe (e.g. humour, smut etc) and then anything else I might think of. I don't personally like to tag smut fics with all of the various sex acts in them, but I've done it before because I thought I was supposed to. Since it doesn't really feel like "me" though I've since stopped doing that. If folks want to avoid my fic as a result, that's totally fair. If folks who would like it can't find it 🤷‍♀️ maybe it'll be a rec someday.

All that is to say that tagging is not a thing it's possible to be perfect at, so just aim for accomplishing whatever your goal is.

I get what you're saying, though. I wrote a fake dating fic once without tagging it as fake dating because I didn't realize that fake dating was a trope. It was only when a couple of friends started referring to it that I realized and added that tag to my fic.

One way to learn about those kinds of tropes is to pay attention when you see them tagged on other people's fics. You can browse through tags that are similar to ones you already use and see what else people add to their fics and whether those would work for yours or not.

You can also visit Fanlore! It's another project by the OTW (the people who run AO3) and it's a great resource for learning about fandom. You can look up a common tag like Alternate Universe, and it will give you examples of different types of AU and link out to pages that will link out to pages that will... you get the idea. It's wikipedia but for fandom stuff.

As for summaries, there are a lot of ways to go about that too. I'll let folks add ideas in the notes. The way I do it is that I include the name(s) of the major character(s), and outline the inciting incident for the fic. Since I post as I write, I might or might not tease something that happens later on (because I might or might not know yet).

The way to get good at doing it is just to keep practicing. When I was in university, I took a Russian Lit course where we had to write a summary of each novel in 200 words or less, 10 sentences or less - and semicolons were cheating. I did that 13 times in 8 months, and by the end of that I was really good at writing summaries. Add in the fact that I started posting fic back on FF.net where there was a character limit on summaries and you can see why I keep them pretty short.

That's another thing that you can analyze in others' fics, though. Find a summary that you think is well-written for whatever type of summary you like and then look at that author's other fics to see if you can spot a pattern to how they do it. Once you find the pattern, it's a lot easier to replicate it and then it's just a matter of repeating it until it feels natural.

[dumpywrites]

Plus One, Minus Feelings - Jeon Jungkook

Prompt: The classic let's pretend to be a couple for just a while. Nothing bad will happen, right?

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, friends to lovers, fake dating, jealous! Jungkook, goofball! Jungkook, reader is into another person for the first half (spoiler: Yoongi)

Pairing: Jungkook x she/her reader

Word count: 7.4k

a/n: this Jungkook has the personality of someone I know, so it's really easy to imagine him in this scenario lol

It was Saturday night at Jin’s house. A casual get-together routine in your friend group. His apartment condo being the biggest one out of everyone, it was natural that his place became the go-to base camp. 

You were on your third yapping session with Jihyo, with your feet crossed sitting on the floor, and your hands moving expressively. The girl was listening to your rambles, looking at you while sitting on the sofa and sipping her smoothie. You were about to enter your fourth story when you heard Jin calling your name from across the room. The man walked towards where you and Jihyo were, with another guy beside him, Jungkook. 

“You’re single, right?” The guy asked out of the blue. 

“Me?” You pointed to yourself, while still sitting on the floor. 

“Who else? Jihyo has a boyfriend.” He rolled his eyes sassily. 

You folded your arms. “You came here just to mock me?!”

“See! She’s single.” He told Jungkook with a sly smile. 

You raised one of your eyebrows. “Are you seriously trying to…”

“No, geez.” Jin chuckled. “Just ask her.” He said to the other guy. 

“Can you help me out? I need a plus one on a wedding.” Jungkook suddenly said. 

“Who’s getting married? And why me though???”

“My brother.”

“Oh, yeah hell no. I’m not going.” You quickly said. 

“Wha— Why??? I haven’t even told you the whole reason!” He said, lips trying so hard not to form a pout. 

“I don’t wanna get interviewed by your family, duh??? I’ll be fine if it’s just Jin’s wedding or something.”

“Yeah, we’re not gonna see that any time soon though…” Jihyo giggled. 

Jungkook ignored Jin’s loud protests and continued. “I made a bet with my brother and he said he’ll buy me the new Switch if I somehow bring someone to his wedding.” 

“I still don’t want to get interrogated by your parents, Kook.” You sighed. 

“Don’t worry! I’ll tell them. It’s just to fool my brother and all.” He nodded eagerly, hoping you’d buy his reasoning. “Please? I’ll even let you try the switch first.” 

“That’s not a good offer?!” You said in a high pitched voice. 

“I’ll get you one of those cute blind boxes…?” Jungkook offered in an unsure tone.

“Yeah, um… I like those but no.” 

“I’ll throw in a dozen of Krispy Kreme.”

“Deal.”

“That’s what gets you???” Jihyo laughed. 

“I was on Jungkook’s side, but yeah, what the hell?!” Jin joined. 

You shrugged. “I love donuts.” 

“Thank you so much!!!” Jungkook bent down on your level on the floor and side hugged you playfully.

“When is this wedding anyway?” You cringed and pushed him to the side. 

“Two weeks from now.”

You sighed, regretting your decision already. “Awesome.”

**

“Uh, what are you doing here?”

6PM on a Thursday night. The night air was chilly, but not too cold. You just stepped out from your office building, ready to head home, when you noticed Jungkook waiting outside. He was smoking, one hand holding his bud and the other was tucked inside the pocket of his extremely baggy pants. 

He immediately squeezed the unfinished cigarette on the trash can next to him as soon as you were on sight. He clapped his hands to together, cleaning the debris, and straightened his posture. With a pleading look, he flashed you a grin. 

“Please come to my family dinner tonight.”

“Tonight?” You looked at him, processing. “What do you mean by tonight?!”

“It will convince my brother!”

“This wasn’t in any part of our deal…” You said in a warning tone. 

“I know! I’m so sorry, but I accidentally told him early that I’m bringing someone…” 

“Not exactly my problem now, is it?” You sighed and folded your arms. “Attending his wedding is one thing. We wouldn’t even get that many chances to talk with him. But a dinner??? I’ll die.”

“Please? Please???” He clasped his hands together, begging with big eyes. 

You sighed. “No.”

“Uh, please?” He closed one eye and the other peeking at you. A nervous smile on his lips.

“You really didn’t think this through, huh?” His expression almost made you crack. 

“No, I didn’t.” He slumped down. “Pretty please? With another dozen of Krispy Kreme on top and I’ll even buy them for you tonight?” He batted his eyelashes at you. 

“You didn’t just do that to me…” You pointed at him and bit your inner cheek. “I hate you.”

“Is that a yes?” He grinned. 

“I don’t know!” You replied in frustration. 

“Please? I won’t stop begging until you agree.” 

It was as if his eyes got bigger every time he said please. 

“You’re insane.” You groaned. “Whatever let’s just go.”

“Yes!” He threw his fist in the air, celebrating with a loud voice. 

“God bless whoever’s gonna be actually dating you.” You rolled your eyes, smiling nonetheless at his antics. 

“I love you too.” He giggled and pinched your cheeks. You swatted away his hand immediately. “I’ll pick you up tonight!” 

And so he picked you up at your place later on with his parent’s car instead of his Harley. Said he wanted you to be able to dress prettily and not having your hair messed up by the helmet. Also because he just ordered the donuts, like promised. He knew there was a possibility of you actually bailing on him if he failed to do so. 

You were nervous, but he assured you that he had informed his parents about the whole thing, so the only people to fool were his brother and his soon-to-be wife. 

“You think I look okay?” 

You asked the guy, turning around to show him your whole outfit. You were wearing a simple blouse and a pair of flared trousers. You weren’t quite sure if it was too formal or too underdressed for the occasion. 

“I barely see you in anything other than t-shirts and baggy pants.”

“As if you’re not the same.” You shook your head and looked at him. He was in fact, still with his usual baggy jeans and oversized tee. “It doesn't look pretentious or anything, right?” 

“It’s cute.” He assured. “Let's go.”

The compliment just rolled out from his tongue so naturally it almost took you off guard. 

Arriving at Jungkook’s house, the first thing you noticed was a scooter that was parked in front of the fences. You didn’t further question it though as a wave of nervousness washed over you. The reality quickly sank on you that you were going to act as if you were dating your friend to fool his brother.

“Remember we’ve been dating for three months.” Jungkook said to you as he turned off the car engine. 

“And we’re just taking things slow, no pressure.” You continued. “I’m actually so nervous.” You confessed.

He took a closer look at your face. “I mean hey, if you’re that uncomfortable, I’ll take you back home. It’s okay. I can just tell him that you still have work or something…”

“No, it’s fine.” You took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. “Let’s get this over with.”

“You sure?”

You nodded and stepped out of the vehicle. 

As soon as you entered, you were welcomed by Jungkook’s mom, who had a beautiful smile on when she greeted you. You quickly noticed his brother Junghyun and his partner Yoora, sitting on a nearby sofa, eyes clearly on you, in which you quickly flashed a smile in return. You noticed an unknown man present though. He had medium length hair, fair skin, and a very comfy looking hoodie on. 

“I see Jungkook wasn’t lying.” His brother grinned and shook your hand, introducing himself and then his partner. 

You gulped, but kept your cool. “Nice to meet you.”

“Oh, that’s Yoongi by the way. He’s an old friend of mine.” He pointed at the guy standing at the corner and called him to join you. 

The man walked towards your direction and shook your hand, giving you a very short greeting. You quickly smiled at the guy as well, before turning your head at the sound of Jungkook’s mom calling you all to the table. 

“So how long have you guys been dating?” Jungkook’s brother asked.

“Three months.” Both of you said in unison. You cleared your throat, feeling awkward. 

“Where did you meet?”

“Jimin introduced—“

Both of you spoke at the same time again. You looked at Jungkook in annoyance while he grinned apologetically. His mom giggled next to him, seeing the two of you. 

“You guys are actually cute it’s disgusting.” The brother laughed. 

You were glad for whatever that was, it did more good than harm in convincing the man. 

“You guys should introduce Yoongi to someone too, he’s been single since forever.” He continued, earning an audible groan from the friend. 

“Shut up, I do go on dates.” Yoongi protested. 

“Hinge matches that you’ve never met in person don’t count, Yoongi.”

“I don’t have the time.” The man protested. 

“He’s single? I’m surprised.” You said to Jungkook in a whisper. 

“Why is that surprising?” Jungkook replied back in the same volume. 

“He’s lowkey hot.” You said without thinking.

Jungkook looked back at you with big eyes and crunched his nose. Before he had the chance to react further, his brother spoke again. 

“Any of your lady friends single?” Junghyun turned to you. 

“I’m sure we don’t need to pressure the poor guy like that.” You smiled. 

“Yeah, I didn’t wanna date before I met her too. You can’t force these things.” Jungkook said proudly. You almost rolled your eyes at the acting. 

“Ew, who are you again?” The older brother laughed at his sibling’s words. “Y/N, I’m truly impressed. How did you even manage to tame this animal?”

“He’s actually really sweet and caring at times.” You giggled, gazing at him playfully.

“Hopefully that makes up for him being a brat most of the time?” Yoora looked at you with a smile. 

“Hmm… that I’m not sure.” You chuckled. 

“Oh, is that so?” Jungkook pinched your cheek with a big grin on his face. He knew you couldn’t slap his hand away when everyone was looking. 

“You should join our party this weekend!” Junghyun said to you. “We have a couple of friends coming, it’s gonna be fun.”

“Uh, she’s kinda busy on the weekends… no?” Jungkook looked at you with worry. 

You shook your head with a smile. Everyone had been very nice and welcoming to you. You would be lying to say that you were busy on the weekends. Wouldn’t want to add more lies on top of another lie. 

“I know you don’t wanna go but don’t lie for her like that.” Junghyun eyed his brother.  

Jungkook looked at you, perplexed. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I have nothing better to do anyway.”

After dinner the parents decided to hit the hay first, while Junghyun suggested to hangout at the back porch, having bought beers and all. You and Jungkook volunteered to fetch some cokes and snacks at the mini mart nearby. 

“Seriously, Yoongi?” Jungkook suddenly said as both of you were browsing an aisle. 

You gave your friend a side eye. “Are you judging my taste in men?!”

“You’re into nerds?”

“You’re one to talk.” You threw a bag of Doritos at his direction, that he caught just in time. 

“I still go out and socialize.” He shrugged with a smug smile. 

“Good for you.” You rolled your eyes and walked past him. 

“He barely talks.”

“And you talk too much.”

“Ouch.” Jungkook dramatically put his hands on his chest. 

“You’re taking it way too seriously, I just think he’s hot. I don’t know him.” You pushed him by his shoulder playfully. 

“How about you get to know him then?” He suddenly suggested. You could practically see a broken lightbulb lit up above his head. “I’ll make sure you get to spend some time with him later.”

“You sure switch your lanes fast.” You shook your head. “We’re supposed to be a couple too, so that doesn’t help.”

“Just tell him, he’s chill.” He dismissed. “Knowing him, he probably doesn’t give two shits about it anyway. Besides, it’s not like I’m planning on lying to my brother forever.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?” You thought it was weird too that you actually were considering making a move. 

“He’s a nerd but he’s alright. Decent person.” He made an upside down u with his lips, nodding. “If that’s what you’re into, who am I to judge?”

“You suck.” You threw another snack at him, making him laugh. 

After some chit chats and a few embarrassing stories later, it was almost twelve and at this point everyone just sat down enjoying the night sky. The couple seemed like they were enjoying themselves, cuddling up with each other on the other side of the porch, while you were left with a few more cans or beer with Jungkook and Yoongi. 

Jungkook started to eye you weirdly, signaling you to say something to the awfully quiet man beside you. You looked at him, shaking your head. The boy just smirked at you before suddenly standing up. 

“Gotta hit the bathroom real quick.”

“Jungkook…” You pulled him by his t-shirt, eyeing him. 

“Don’t be too clingy now.” He chuckled and walked away, holding his laughter. 

You sighed and turned to Yoongi, who was now looking at you after Jungkook leaving you alone with him. He took another can and twisted the handle open. 

“You must have the patience of a saint to be with him.” He suddenly said. 

Your eyes widened slightly at the comment, surprising he was starting a conversation. You shook your head, smiling. You didn’t know exactly where to start on the topic. 

“Let me guess, he paid you to act?” 

You gasped, covering your mouth. “Not too loud!”

“They’re asleep.” 

You looked to your right, and a sigh of relief came out as you saw the couple sleeping on the couch. 

“So it’s true?” Yoongi nonchalantly asked as he took more sips of the beer. 

“Well, he didn’t pay me like that… He got me some donuts and I’m just doing him a favor.” 

“You’re doing it for donuts?” 

It was the first time you hear his chuckle, it sounded beautiful. 

“You get a couple of donuts and he gets a brand new Nintendo Switch? That sounds fair.”

“I love doing things for the plot, I guess.” You smiled bashfully. 

He hummed, still with a small smile on his lips. “What’s your favorite movie?”

“Huh? What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I judge people’s character by their favorite movie.”

You giggled. “Jungkook was right.”

Yoongi looked at you questioningly. 

“You’re a nerd.” 

“Oh.” He voiced, seemingly lightly offended.

“It’s Midsommar and Inception.” You answered. 

Instead of reacting, Yoongi just gulped the beer can, this time finishing it. 

“So… what does that say about my personality?” 

“You’re not dating Jungkook, right?”

You were once again surprised. “Depends on who’s asking.” You replied, testing the waters. 

“I’m asking.” He said bluntly. 

You grinned. “Then no, I’m not.”

You had a few more chats before Jungkook came back from his so-called toilet break. You had no idea where he went or what he actually did, but you made a mental note to thank him later for the small favor. 

Jungkook drove you back home that night. The cheeky grin you had the entire ride was giving it away. 

“You look creepy. I assume things went well?” Jungkook asked with eyes still on the road. 

You shrugged but failed to wipe the smirk off your face. “I guess? You were right though…”

“About what?”

“He is a nerd… a cute one.” You giggled. 

“Disgusting.” Jungkook shook his head. “Please keep your act at the wedding.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t betray you like that.” You patted his shoulder from the passenger seat. “After all, you did help me so I could talk to him. So, thank you.”

“Hey, thank you too for even agreeing to whatever this bullshit is.” He sighed. “You know you don’t have to go to that party too.”

“It’s okay, your brother and his girl are good people, I enjoy the company.” You paused then grinned. “Plus, I’ll get to see Yoongi again.”

“If he shows up, that is.” Jungkook laughed. “You better pray cause that man hates parties.”

**

You stared at the reflection in your mirror, fixing the wrinkles on the clothes, you twisted your body to the left and to the right. You were not so sure if wearing a mini skirt was a right choice for the party. You could easily go with your usual baggy jeans and crop top combo, but there was a possibility of Yoongi showing up and you wanted to look pretty. At the very least. Dunking your lip gloss and tint in your purse, you threw in your perfume as well. 

The look Jungkook gave you once he saw you opening the car door was hard to miss. His mouth was ever so slightly gaped and his eyebrows furrowed. You would had guessed that he was insulting you, but his head nodded afterwards, lips turning into thin line as he did. He appeared to be amazed by what he saw. 

“You dressed up well.” He said as you took a seat and closed the door. 

“I’m still betting on Yoongi showing up, remember?”

“Ah yes, of course.” He clicked his tongue. “You don’t need to doll up for him, he’ll show up in a hoodie and bucket hat or something.”

“He doesn’t have to try.” You shrugged.

“Wow, calm down.” He looked at you with judging eyes. “This is you being sarcastic, right?”

You shrugged again, smirking. 

One hour into the party and there was still no sign of your crush at the function. Jungkook’s brother was opening a second bottle of Jägermeister, pouring it for everyone, mixing it with cans of Red Bulls. 

Your supposed boyfriend had already gulped multiple glasses down, his cheeks were glowing pink and he was even more chatty. 

“Looks like your man isn’t coming.��� He said to you. 

“It is what it is.” You sighed, downing a shot. 

“At least you look cute today.”

“You think so?” You eyed him with an amused smirk. You wondered if it was already the alcohol doing its thing. 

“Yeah.” He agreed casually. 

You chuckled. “I thought your tolerance was better than this.”

“I’m not drunk yet.” He rolled his eyes. “Wanna go get some fresh air?”

You looked around and saw everyon on the table was dancing around, pretty much tipsy if not drunk already. 

“Can we?” You asked him. 

Instead of answering, Jungkook went to his brother. “We’re going to catch some fresh air for a bit, is that good?”

“Alright, use protection kiddos.” The older man laughed and patted his shoulder. 

“That’s not—“ The man was already back on the dance floor without letting his little brother finish the sentence. 

Jungkook turned to you. “He thinks we’re off to fuck, but we’re good to go.”

“Ew.” You cringed but followed the man out from the club. 

Jungkook sighed heavily as soon as you were at the front of the club. “I thought I was gonna turn deaf.”

“Yeah.” I chuckled. “Your brother parties well it seems.”

“He loves it. He’s borderline alcoholic.” Jungkook shook his head. “I think he likes you.”

“How do you know?”

“He knows my ex from two years ago. He was still bugging me on inviting her even after I told you were gonna show up at our dinner.” He sighed. “I don’t see her, I guess it worked out.”

“Is she someone I know?” You asked with a careful tone. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever introduced her to any of you guys… Jimin knows her though.”

“I see…” You looked away, suddenly feeling awkward on the topic. 

He eyed you and laughed, nudging you before he spoke. “It’s okay to ask, I don’t feel anything for her anymore.” 

You stayed quiet and observed his demeanor, searching for doubts. 

“Seriously! It wasn’t anything bad. We just wanted different things and it didn’t work out. My brother likes her though, so that’s why.” He laughed again, but it slowly faded as he was lost in thoughts on something. “Fuck, if I think about it, he’s gonna be so pissed once he finds out.”

“Is it really worth the Switch?”

“Totally.” He answered without hesitation, laughing. “You on the other hand, I just know it’s not worth the donuts.”

“It’s not that bad. I don’t hate it.” 

“You’re just saying that because you met Yoongi.” He smirked.

“It is a nice bonus!” You cackled, looking up at the sky. “Everyone’s nice and I don’t hate hanging out with you.” 

“Wow.” He rolled his eyes but a smile found his lips. “You know what, let’s go eat some good steak after the wedding!”

“Really?” Your eyes beamed with excitement. 

He nodded. “I don’t hate hanging out with you either.” The grin on his lips was almost blinding.  

Both of you wounded up talking some more. You didn't know that you enjoyed talking basically about shit nothings with him. You never really had the chance to spend time much time alone with him before, given you always met him with the group and you were more close to Jihyo and Jimin. You liked how silly and random he could be and the way he laughed sounded soothing. You were not sure why you came into that conclusion but you decided to stick with it.

Until a certain man stopped in front both of you.  

“Why are you guys outside?”

“Yoongi?” You called, surprised upon seeing the guy. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

The man flattened his lips, trying to appear indifferent. He had his hands inside his pockets and everything. One thing you quickly noticed was how put together he looked. He looked very different from the guy you talked with at the back porch. His hair was sleeked back neatly and you could smell his perfume from where you stood. The black button up shirt fit his physique so well. Surely, no hoodie nor bucket hat like what Jungkook had mentioned. 

Jungkook who seemingly aware of how starstruck you were, let out an audible groan at the scene. 

“I had some work today, I thought of ditching actually.” Yoongi said while looking at you. 

“What changed your mind?” You curiously asked. 

The man shrugged nonchalantly. “Heard you’re invited.”

“Oh.” Your mouth went slightly ajar. You almost couldn’t believe his words. 

“Y’all are disgusting. I’m heading in.” Jungkook walked right through the middle of you and Yoongi, storming right back into the club. 

“Huh.” Yoongi voiced, eyes following Jungkook’s figure disappearing at the door. “Does he know?”

“He knows. It was even his idea…”You confessed. “He went to the toilet on purpose just so we could talk that night.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Nah, don’t worry. He’s just a pouty brat.” You dismissed. “Let’s go in?”

Yoongi nodded and followed you from behind. 

The moment you and Yoongi arrived at the reserved table, Jungkook was doing two shots of something that one of his brother’s friend handed him. Your eyes met for a split second on his first shot, before he ignored you and chugged another one. Here you thought he was done drinking already. Did he forget that he drove you here?

You had known Jungkook for a while and you knew he could handle his alcohol. You had no problem switching place and drove him. So you kept conversing with Yoongi, thinking your fake boyfriend would be fine, just having a bit more fun wouldn’t hurt him. 

Something was definitely wrong when you saw the lad slurring and excusing himself to puke. 

“Kook? You alright?”

“No.” He replied from the toilet stall. 

You heard another gagging sound before he pressed the flush button. He came out soon after, looking very flushed and unwell. 

“I thought you were done drinking for the night.” You approached him, patting his back. 

“I was being stupid.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can drive back…”

“It’s okay, I’ll drive you and just take uber back.” You assured him. 

Jungkook muttered a low “thanks” before trailing you from behind, back to the table.

“You alright, dude?” Yoongi looked at the guy with sympathy. 

“Yup.” Jungkook did an okay sign, with half closed lids. “At least I can still form a thought.”

“Geez, how will you get home?” Yoongi looked at your direction. 

“I can drive him and take a cab back.” You replied. 

“I can take you home.” The man said sternly. “I’ll meet you at his apartment complex.”

“Oh, you don’t have to!” You widened your eyes, refusing politely. “You just got here too…”

“I insist.” Yoongi grabbed your shoulder, stopping you from rambling further. “Let’s go.”

You followed Yoongi and walked to bid goodbyes to the party host, letting him know the reasoning before heading to the parking lot. 

The tatted man was pretty quiet and calm the whole ride, except for the very few short verbal responses he gave out when you asked him something. Occasionally he would hum like a little kid. You were just glad he was not that drunk to the point where it was impossible to handle. He could still walk by himself properly, but you walked him to his room just in case. 

You were greeted by an over excited Bam, Jungkook’s dog, jumping up to you. It had been quite some time since last you saw the big Doberman. You were glad at least he didn’t think of you as a stranger. Once Jungkook had sat down on the couch, you went back to pet the dog. 

“Did I tell you that you look cute today?”

You looked back at the man who was staring at you innocently. Finally getting to experience first hand on his drunk baby behavior instead of just hearing stories from Taehyung was something else. 

“Yes, you did.” You said without looking at him. Your attention was still on the giant dog. 

“Did Yoongi tell you that too?”

You halted and thought to yourself. That question definitely made you think. Yoongi did not mention anything about how your appearance whatsoever. Did he really have to though? 

“No, he didn’t…”

“You’ve tried your best and he didn’t even say anything?!” 

“Well, at least you noticed.” You smiled. 

“You’re damn right I did.” He grinned proudly. 

You shook your head at the nonsense. “Good night, Kook.”

“Night, cutie.” 

When you got out, Yoongi was already waiting for you. You panned out exchanging numbers after he dropped you off.

**

“This might be the very last favor I’m gonna ask you before it’s finally done for real.”

“What is it again now?”

“Spend the night at the venue hotel with me? Please? My brother booked a room for the family and apparently he added an extra room for us…”

You could hear his voice begging over the phone call. 

“What’s in it for me? I don’t wanna end up like that time you hit Jimin in his sleep.”

“Free breakfast and an awesome roomie that will try his best not to accidentally kick you in your sleep.” His chuckles slowly faded.

“So you’re basically offering nothing.”

“Please?” You could almost picture his exact facial expression.

“I guess a little staycation won’t hurt.” You sighed. It seemed like you couldn't find yourself to reject him. “We’ve already gone too far anyway, might as well just finish this.”

“Thank you so much!” The man shouted from the other line. “I’ll try my best not to hit you while I sleep.”

“You better be.”

So that was how you were now up binge watching unsolved crimes on YouTube, with your pretend boyfriend, who had a newly opened bottle of wine right in his hand, pouring it down onto a glass. 

“You sure your brother wouldn’t mind us taking one of his wines?” 

“Nah, this was gifted anyway.” He waved.

“If you say so.” 

You took the freshly poured glass and slumped on the bed, enjoying the cool feeling of the bedsheets on your skin. Jungkook was lying down next to you, over the bed cover. Both of you had changed into your pajamas and all.

On the fifth video playing, you finally got a text back from Yoongi after you informed him about your small sleepover situation. It could be the lack of emojis used in the replies, but he seemed chill about the whole thing, only telling you to call him right away if anything cynical were ever to occur.  

You didn’t realize but soon your attention was taken by the small screen in your hands, instead of the huge television in the room. But when it finally came into your attention, you quickly put down your phone. You had always disliked people playing with their phones when hanging out with you, figured you would not want to do the same thing. 

“I just told Yoongi that I’m staying the night here.” 

Jungkook’s eyes were already at you when you looked up from your phone. 

He turned back to the screen, going back to take another chip from the bag on his hand. “What did he say?”

“He seems cool with it. Told me to call him straight up if you try anything fishy.”

“Are you guys like a thing now?” 

“Eh, we’ve texted back and forth for days but that’s all.” You shrugged.

The man shifted his position to your direction. “So… do you like him?”

“I mean, I guess he seems like a perfect textbook boyfriend.”

“Whose textbook?” Jungkook raised one of his eyebrows. 

“Well, mine?” You chuckled. “Guess I really do like nerds.” 

“Oh, wow.” Jungkook said in a straight tone, unamused.

“I mean he’s nice and cute, what more can you ask for?” 

The man sighed. “Well, if that’s the case then I guess good for you.” 

“You don’t sound too happy about it.” You noticed the shift in his voice. 

“I’m not excited to see you being all gross with him after this.” He rolled his eyes and pushed the snack to your direction. 

You took one chip and chuckled. “He could just be flirting for fun.”

“Yoongi doesn’t do that.” Jungkook replied with his mouth full. “Bro barely flirts in general.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.” 

Suddenly a big thunder flashed, making a loud noise that shocked both of you. You jumped from your seat to look by the hotel window. It was suddenly pouring heavy outside. Jungkook followed you shortly, peeking next to you. 

You pulled the curtains open, enjoying the calming rain atmosphere. “We’re gonna sleep so good tonight.” 

“Lights on or lights off?” The man asked. 

“Off, all of them.”

“I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.” Jungkook went in for a hi-five. 

You crossed your leg and sat on the floor, eyes on the crazy weather outside. Once again, Jungkook mimicked and joined you on the floor. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asked.

“Nothing, it’s just really nice.” You sighed. “Do you have any nosy relatives?”

“The old ones from my dad’s side are sometimes a bit, but nothing too crazy. Why? Ah… you’re scared you’re gonna get interrogated tomorrow?” 

“Sorta, yeah.” You chuckled. “I don’t do well with new people.”

“You’re gonna be fine, they’ll like you.” He assured. “I’ll do the talk, you’ll just have to smile and look pretty.”

“You think I look pretty?” You pointed at yourself, grinning. 

“I’ve told you before.”

You suddenly remember that night when he was drunk. “Oh, you remember that? You told me I looked cute though not—“

“I remember what I said.” He cut you off with a slight annoyed tone.

“Uh, thanks…” You said, suddenly feeling awkward. You didn’t know why he suddenly seemed so serious about it. 

“You don’t believe it, do you?”

“Well, you were drunk and I know you, you love to say a lot of shit nothings.” 

“I’m not drunk now so…” He puffed his cheeks. 

“We were just drinking wine?” You replied. 

Jungkook groaned. “Shut up.”

“Alright, I believe you.” You laughed. Your cheeks feeling ever so slightly warm. You decided it was due to the glass of wine instead of thinking of other possibilities. 

Jungkook laughed as well, after he rolled his eyes at you. Your eyes met for a short second, but you quickly broke it off and looked back at the window. You were not quite sure why, but you felt the urge to lean your head on the boy’s shoulder. Figuring it wouldn’t be weird, you did so. After all, you did it all the time with Jimin too.

You could tell his shoulder stiffened at first, but it quickly loosened and relaxed. A few seconds later he leaned back his head on top of yours, and both of you just stayed like that for minutes, only the sound of the downpour filling up the room. 

“Hey, look at the sky.”

“Huh?” You suddenly straightened your position and looked up. “What is—“

Then your mind blanked. In a split second Jungkook launched an attack, giving you a surprise kiss on your right cheek. You heard it making a loud smooch noise, despite the rain blaring in the background. You looked at him with your hand now holding your cheek. Would you believe that, the man just looked at you with a big grin as if he was innocent, his eyes turned into thin lines, his lip piercing glared under the moonlight. 

“Did you just kiss me???”

“On your cheek, yes.” He nodded like a kid. The smug grin was still there, proudly. 

“You told me to look at the sky!” You whined. 

“That was the most classic move in the book.” He laughed. 

“Whose book is this?!” You retorted. Weirdly enough, you didn’t seem to mind it that much.

“We need to both review our books it seems like.” He chuckled. “I’m sorry, you just looked very pretty under the moon and all, it was very dramatic in my eyes.” 

“Is this the alcohol talking again?”

“Stop blaming the alcohol and start taking my compliments seriously.” He folded his arms, the muscles flexed as he did. 

Great. Now how in the heavens were you suppose to sleep again?

Thankfully, things somehow managed to cool down after that, and both of you soon retrieved to the bed after cleaning up. 

You were glad the man next to you was a heavy sleeper, so he wouldn’t notice you tossing and turning. Should you be overthinking on Jungkook’s behavior? You knew he was a flirty being, you were sure he did things like this all the time. After all, he fell asleep almost instantly like nothing had ever happened, so it must be true. 

The next morning when you woke up, the left side of the bed was already empty. You were glad that at least no accidents happened during your sleep. It would suck to go to the celebration with a blue eye. You still remembered Jimin’s pain that one time you went camping. 

Assuming Jungkook was off to the gym, you got up and took a shower. By the time you were done, there was a sweaty bare back facing you, sitting on the edge of the bed, gulping down a bottled water. 

Last time you saw Jungkook shirtless was a few months back, maybe even a year ago. Jihyo had this immaculate idea of a beach day, only for it to end up raining. You and her stayed inside the cottage the entire time. But the boys? They didn’t care. Every single one of them ended up catching the cold too. 

That being said, at that period of time, Jungkook was already muscular, but he sure as hell wasn’t as this big. Maybe it was the amount of Twinkies he ate on his free time doing wonders on his bulking. 

“Oh, you’re done?” Jungkook suddenly turned, clutching the t-shirt he had on his hand to his chest. It was almost funny how big his eyes popped open. 

“Yeah.” You wondered why he got flustered all of the sudden. 

“I may stink a bit.” He sheepishly laughed. “I’ll shower and we’ll get breakfast after?”

**

And before you knew it, you were on the table with the Jeons. A flared floral dress clung on your body, heels hanging on your left foot as you crossed your legs, sitting prettily as what Jungkook had asked you. 

You were thankful he kept his words. Here you were, giggling at Jungkook’s aunt, telling you a story about how when he was a baby he used to cry every time upon seeing a literal piece of broccoli. You barely need to say anything. Jungkook kept the conversation going and would always wittily shift the conversation away from turning into public interrogation. 

When the main celebration was over, he didn’t stop you from going to converse with Yoongi. Nor he did when the man kindly asked to swap dance partners. Maybe it was just how he didn’t need any more convincing or anything to prove. The job was already done. 

You found yourself questioning on why he didn’t though, on why he just let you be. You questioned yourself on why you never really felt the butterflies around Yoongi. But at this point, you began to realize something was up. He would say something and all you could think of was how Jungkook would react over the top, make a dumb pun, and dance around like an idiot instead. Yoongi was exactly how you would imagine your perfect guy. But was it also a mental block that made you think you felt something for him other than mild admiration? 

“You’re zoning out.”

“Oh! I was?” You jumped slightly, hearing Yoongi’s comment. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you looking for him?”

“I was just wondering where he went, I haven’t seen him since the dance…”

“I didn’t say a name.” 

You were taken aback. Yoongi’s expression was a mixture of amusement and light disappointment. 

“I’m sorry, my head’s been all over the place…” You replied in a low voice. 

The man sighed, crossing his hands. “Don’t apologize. Don’t worry about it. 

“But, Yoongi…”

“Think about it. Would you say yes if any other person asked you to do this ridiculous favor just for donuts? And why does Jungkook even need to do this so badly?! He could afford the console himself if he wanted to.”

Huh. 

He sighed again, but this time there was a small smile on his lips. “Go. Before I like you even more.”

“I’m so sorry, Yoongi.”

“Just go.”

And with that push, you picked up your feet and searched. He was nowhere near his family table and nowhere at dessert bar. And you knew it wasn’t like him to not camp in the dessert area like a hungry child. You texted him but there was no immediate response. You weren’t sure if calling would be a good idea. You figured he must had ran back to the hotel room.

Your assumption was correct when you found him lying on the floor, with arms and legs stretched out like a starfish, tie discarded next to him. He only spared a look at you for a few seconds, before going back on focusing his vision up at the ceiling. 

“Jungkook, what the hell are you doing…” You couldn’t help a smile forming on your lips. 

“Comforting myself.” He grinned with eyes closed shut. “Wanna join?”

You looked at him and shook your head in disbelief. It took you merely five seconds of decision making before giving up and laid on your side next to him. Jungkook quickly turned his body to your direction once he felt your presence close by. With his arm under his head for support, there was that boyish grin plastered on his face looking at you again. 

“So what are we doing on the floor again?”

“Dunno.” He bit his inner cheeks as he spoke. “You look really pretty today.” He mentioned unpromptly. 

“Stop saying that.” You looked away. 

“Just in case Yoongi hasn’t told you.” He grinned. “Why are you here? You should be at the party…”

“And you don’t?! I thought you want that new switch?” 

“I do, it’s just… I can’t really give a damn about that right now, honestly.” He scoffed. “You shouldn’t be here, though.”

“And why is that?”

“It’s giving me hope.” He turned his body and laid on his back, facing the ceiling again. “This sucks balls but I have to admit that I’m jealous.”

You froze in place. Your eyes still glued to him, looking at his side profile as he continued to talk without meeting your eyes. 

“Yoongi is exactly your type. The whole hot nerd vibe. Smart, broody, quiet. He’s what you go for.” He chuckled. “I’m gonna sound so pick me after this, but I’m not that. I’m dumb and loud. And I hate it.”

“Jungkook…”

“I know this is fake. But it didn’t feel fake.” His voice dropped. “Not to me. Holding you, laughing until we can’t breathe, and last night with the rain???” He smiled in defeat. “I guess somewhere along the line, I just stopped pretending. I stopped thinking about the switch. Hell, fuck the switch. Haven’t thought about it even once after that night at the club…” He shook his head vigorously like a dog, as if wanting to get rid of his thoughts. “I got so jealous that night I started drinking like an idiot.”

Your heart thudded painfully. “You know I liked Yoongi.” 

Words coming out from your mouth shocked him, especially the way you were using past tense. His eyes glimmered in hope. Once again you were amazed by his big rounded eyeballs. 

“But even when I was with him, I kept missing you. I kept wondering how you’d react, thinking about how you’d crack a lame joke, how you’d try to tease me about it…” 

He blinked a few times. “Wait, really???”

“Yeah.”You chuckled, a bit flustered by exposing yourself. “I thought I was doing it for Krispy Kreme, but honest to heavens no one would actually be this dumb. I thought I was at least, but even Yoongi told me that this is just beyond ridiculous.” You sighed. “I wouldn’t be here if I don’t actually enjoy being with you.” 

Jungkook’s expression softened. He too let out a heavy breath. He scooted closer to you with his pair of black boba eyes looking straight at you like a giant puppy. 

“You mean it?”

“I mean, I did have one glass of champagne before coming up here…” You giggled. 

The guy pouted. “Not funny.” 

You reached for his nose and booped it, making him flinch. You took his left hand and placed it on your chest, where your heart was literally beating out of your rib cage. The eye contact didn’t last long as you broke it off, feeling your stomach twisted into a knot. 

And Jungkook wasted zero second after that confirmation. He brought both of his palms and grabbed your face close. His soft lips found yours instantly. Your gasp was muffled by his mouth and it took you no time to melt into his touch though. The kiss was short, nothing too much. You were the first to broke it off, but he did leaned over to chase your lips once more. You caught a glimpse of his proud grin before he pulled you into a hug, stuffing your face into his embrace. 

“Do we really have to do this on the floor?” You protested, but your jaw was basically hurt from smiling. 

“You’re mine you’re mine you’re mine.” He chanted like a possessed individual. He buried his face in your hair and laughed freely. 

“You’re insane.” You giggled. 

“Insanely into you, yeah.” He proudly grinned. 

“Oh my god, don’t make regret this.” You rolled your eyes playfully, finding his antics endearing. 

“You’re mine!!!” He declared again, almost shouting while squeezing you. 

“You haven’t asked anything though.” You backed away, raising your eyebrows at him. 

His eyes widened and his mouth went slightly ajar. "Oh yeah, you’re right, I haven’t asked properly. Well then…” He leaned in a bit closer and took your hand in his, looking into your eyes with sincerity. He inhaled and then, “Do you want to eat wagyu steak with me tonight?”

You pushed him off and whined. 

He laughed, holding his stomach as he did. “Let’s get up first. I’m not asking you to be my girlfriend on the floor.” 

Thank you for reading! 💐

[satsugo]

୨୧ you mention a coworker being “sweet.” gojo doesn’t like that. later that night, he shows you what happens when someone else touches what’s his. mlist

yandere!gojo gets extra mean when he’s jealous — but don’t worry, he kisses it better after. sry I've been stuck in a yandere x reader mood! hope you enjoyed the chaos, sweetness ♡ reblogs and screams in the tags are always welcome.

gojo satoru x reader

minors do not interact. this piece is intended for 18+ audiences. contains the following: yandere behavior, hand-tying (with a blindfold), oral (fem receiving), rough possessive language, overstimulation, mild threat kink, praise kink, soft aftercare.

It started as a joke.

You were curled up on the couch beside him, laughing about your day, sipping wine, legs draped across his lap. He was loose-limbed and quiet, eyes half-lidded, lips curled into a lazy smile.

“He’s actually really sweet,” you said. “Like… surprisingly nice. Not weird or flirty. Just normal. Which is rare at work.”

Gojo’s fingers stilled on your calf.

You didn’t notice.

“He brought me a coffee this morning,” you added. “Exactly how I like it. No cream.”

He hummed — not a happy sound.

You blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, brushing his thumb over your ankle. “Just… wondering how he knows how you like your coffee.”

You shrugged. “I talk about it all the time. Probably overheard.”

His jaw flexed.

“Did you thank him?”

“Well… yeah?”

Gojo didn’t respond. Just leaned back, silent. Thoughtful.

You didn’t realize the shift until later.

You woke up to soft sheets and quiet tension. Hands above your head. Tied — not tightly, but firm enough. Gojo’s silk blindfold wrapped around your wrists.

“Satoru?”

He didn’t answer right away.

You felt him before you saw him — warm breath at your neck, one knee pushing between your thighs, bare skin pressing into yours.

“Was he sweet like this?” he murmured against your collarbone. “Did he make you feel special?”

You squirmed. “What—”

“I’ve let you off easy,” he whispered, tongue grazing your pulse. “Let you laugh, let you talk. But you don’t get to smile about other men. You don’t get to call them sweet.”

His hand slid between your legs — warm, confident, claiming.

“That’s mine.”

You whimpered as his fingers teased your slit, already soaked. He chuckled darkly.

“You say one thing,” he said, biting your earlobe, “but your body says another.”

“I wasn’t flirting—”

“I know.” His voice dipped, almost gentle. “But he thought about it. Bet he imagined what you sound like when you come.”

You tried to pull your hands free — instinct — but the blindfold held firm.

“Shh,” he murmured. “You don’t need those.”

Then his mouth was on you.

Hot. Wet. Starving.

He spread your thighs wide, tongue dragging through your folds, groaning like the taste alone was enough to anchor him.

“You don’t even get it,” he panted between licks. “You don’t see how good you are. How fuckin’ lucky I am.”

You gasped, hips rising.

He gripped your thighs tighter.

“No. Stay still.”

His tongue circled your clit, slow and intentional, then sucked — just once, hard enough to make you cry out.

“He’ll never see you like this,” Gojo growled. “Never get to hear these sounds. Never get this messy for him.”

Your orgasm hit like a wave, legs shaking, breath hitching as he kept licking through it.

He let you come down, slowly, gently. Pressed kisses up your stomach, over your breasts, to your throat.

You couldn’t see him. Could only feel the weight of his stare.

“Only I get this,” he whispered. “Say it.”

“Only you,” you breathed. “Only you.”

He kissed your lips then — deep and slow, like the fury had drained and left only reverence.

“Good girl.”

Later, your hands freed, you curled into his chest. His fingers ran through your hair, light and soothing.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I just… don’t like sharing.”

You smiled against his skin. “You never have.”

“You’re mine,” he whispered again. “That won’t change.”

satsugo 2025 © all rights reserved; do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing.

[kdh-tally]

Hi! I love your work! I was wondering if you could do a thing where the Saja Boys realize that being kpop idols was bit harder than they originally thought? Like debuting was easy but now that they've debuted they've got to deal with Dispatch and dating scandals and other things idols have to deal with!

Saja Boys Struggling with the Idol Life

Prompt : Saja Boys realising that being Kpop Idols weren't as easy as they thought.

Author's Note : So this might be a teensy tiny bit angsty but only cause i got super into it lol. Prior to this movie coming out I've been a mega kpop fan since like 2016 and completely adore everything about the kpop community except evil fans. I feel like i've seen my fair share of unfairness and just put all my frustration about what some idols deal with into this. Anyways, Enjoy!

The first few months after debut had felt like a dream. After getting past their initial issues with Huntr/x, the boys had a proper debut into kpop society. It was dizzying. A blur of encores, confetti, excited fans, and constant camera flashes that never seemed to end. They felt invincible. They were invincible. Hungry for fame, powered by an energy that was now being put to good use, excited to share their apparent talents with the world. After all, what was a six-hour schedule compared to centuries of the blood-soaked domain they used to live in?

But slowly, things changed, fans set higher expectations, critics got harsher. They were no longer the new and bright rookies. More groups made music, the Saja Boys were good but they weren’t the only boy band out there. Even their fans didn’t seem to help. They got more invested with the boys' lives, possessive over what they did and who they hung around. It was getting suffocating. 

Mystery sat slouched on the practice room floor, hoodie pulled up, hair hiding his face even though he was alone. He scrolled through the trending topics absently, thumb pausing at a familiar photo. It was of him at the gym, something their new manager had insisted all the boys do. He just so happened to have bumped into one of the female workers and someone had clipped it and made it out to be something it wasn’t.

The tags were misleading. 

#SAJABOYS_Mystery_DatingRumor #MysteryAndThePilatesGirl #DispatchAtItAgain

He exhaled through his nose. Quietly. Bitterly.

“You don’t even know her,” Baby muttered from beside him, Mystery hadn’t noticed him come in. 

“Try explaining that to twelve million people who already think they know everything about you.” the silver-haired boy sighed in response. He let the phone screen dim, the room sinking back into silence.

It wasn’t about the rumor.

It was about what came next. There would be comments dissecting his every move, fans creating timelines of when he must’ve "fallen in love", antis spinning it into him betraying the fans.. Even Zoey, who had also faced her fair share of dating rumors, had advised him to lay low for a bit. No solo lives, no fan interactions. “It’s best you let it blow over,” she’d said.

He wanted to tell everyone it was a lie. But what was the point of one person speaking amongst a crowd of yelling fans?

Romance stopped writing lyrics for the first time in weeks. His notebook remained open on his desk, pen idle.

He lay on his bed, watching some show Bobby recommended to him. His mind wasn’t on the movie though. He used to think emotions were a superpower. It was what he found most interesting about humans. That the overthinking, sensitivity, and deep craving to be seen was what made them unique. Was what made him unique. But now it felt like a trap. 

Every word he wrote was calculated. Will fans think this line is about someone? Will this become a scandal? Will they think I’m dating?

He couldn't even smile or zone out on live streams without worrying about whether someone would spin some fantasy made up tale in their minds about him thinking of someone else. It especially hurt to be told who he apparently loved by people who knew almost nothing about him. 

He had social media. He had seen the theories. Multiple fans claiming he had to be straight or gay or bisexual and many many others. He didn’t even know himself. He distanced himself from everyone, fearful of possibly being shipped with friends or even his bandmates. 

Even the fun stages weren’t fun anymore. He had once looked forward to the variety shows and challenges, but suddenly the hosts began asking personal and provoking questions. He’d started putting on smiles like makeup. Perfect, identical and completely fake.

As he moved to turn off the television, his room becoming engulfed in darkness, he remembered when they had just debuted. He missed those times. Where his biggest fear was if Mira would one day stab him with her guandao for flirting with her and not whether a sasaeng would break into his home. 

Jinu had always been the steady one. Their leader. Even when they fought he remained the glue of the group. Keeping them together both in demon form and as humans. But even he had a limit.

He stood in the dance studio well past midnight, practicing the same step again and again until his shoulder spasmed from the repetition. Not because he wasn’t getting it. But because he couldn’t afford to get it wrong.

Ever since their last stage, where a fan took a blurry photo of his hand coincidentally hovering a little too close to Rumi’s waist during a behind-the-scenes clip, he’d been trending for all the wrong reasons. Never mind that she was more than anyone would ever know to him. That they'd fought side by side in a war nobody even knew about. That he would give her every part of him if it meant seeing her smile.

It didn’t matter.

He was an idol now.

And idols don’t touch women.

He’d seen the magazines, blogs, articles written for anyone who was willing to listen. They painted him as an egoistical and cocky…. He couldn’t even bring himself to remember the words they used. It hurt too much to remember. 

Baby had taken his phone away, pleading with him to stay off the media. But he couldn’t help it. He was like an addict. He needed to know what the fans were thinking at all times. He needed to know who they thought he was.

He stopped dancing, turning to look at his reflection. Pale. Hollow-eyed. Chest heaving not from cardio but anxiety. He wasn’t sure who he was anymore.

Abby had it the worst.

Because unlike the others, Abby loved the attention. He needed it. Craved it. The cheers, the gasps, the fan edits with filters, it made everything feel more real to him.

But recently?

He’d been trending for laughing too much at a female MC’s joke, even though he genuinely found it hilarious. For standing too close to a back-up dancer. For wearing a shirt that fans claimed was from a "couple brand."

He was even shamed for what brought him the most joy. His muscles. He’d simply been on his way to the company gym one day, he and the other boys stayed far away from public ones after seeing what happened to Mystery. He took his regular spot, though a few other idols had been there as well, they were all friendly. 

Before he began his usual workout, he’d taken a little selfie. His shirt lifted provocatively to reveal his abs and everything. He posted it on his personal instagram story, thinking he’d given fans content for the day. 

Sure he’d put on a little weight but it was barely noticeable. The group was on a well deserved break and he was taking the time to truly take care of himself, even if that meant eating a bit more junk food than he should have.

He hadn’t expected the scrutiny. He’d seen multiple comments and videos going on about how he must have gotten lazy, about how fans missed when he was muscular, how he now looked overweight.

“I haven’t even eaten this week!” he exploded, throwing his jacket onto the dorm floor. “I had one stupid burger and that was it!”

Mira, who was visiting, tried to calm him down. “Abby, you know they don’t mean harm—”

“Then why does it feel like I can’t breathe without someone twisting it into a crime?” he deflated. 

She couldn’t answer. She simply wrapped him up in a tight hug as he broke down.

Baby stayed quiet most days. He was less snarky, didn’t go live as much, hung out less with Zoey and Rumi. It wasn’t because he didn’t care, but because he did. Just too much.

He watched all of his hyungs fall apart. He saw the way Jinu stayed up at night, scrolling through hate threads. The way Romance flinched when asked about “his type.” The way Mystery held his breath when female staff passed by. The way Abby was way less boisterous than usual.

Unfortunately he too had his own issues. People that were supposed to be his fans had begun to turn on him. Claiming he acted too much like a child. Claiming he needed to grow up. 

At first he had rolled his eyes, he wasn’t even that childish. People just seemed to enjoy placing the cutest member into the baby category. He didn’t want to let it get to him but he had gotten conscious of every move he made. He remembered Zoey calling it Paranoia. 

He didn’t eat on camera, as people flamed him for enjoying a strawberry. He didn’t play around with his hyungs as much. He didn’t even play into the whole aegyo thing anymore. 

And Baby hated it. Sure he didn’t care for acting childish but it had gotten fun. And now all the fun was sucked out of it simply because a few people decided they didn’t want him to act that way anymore.

He hated how self conscious he got. He hated how he felt like he couldn’t tell his group members in fear of adding more to their plate. It was suffocating. 

None of them had signed up for this.

Debuting had been easy.

It was staying on top that was killing them.

They had fought hunters and hellfire. Survived bloodshed and sacrifices. But nothing, not even Huntr/x, as experienced as they were, had prepared them for a world where they were no longer allowed to be human.

Where love was a scandal.

Where exhaustion was an attitude.

Where silence was considered ungrateful.

Later that week, they sat in their dorm in silence. No social media playing, no scrolling through the hate threads. It was just them, all together for the first time in days. Just boys who used to be monsters, now pretending to be perfect.

“We used to fight to survive,” Mystery spoke, breaking the silence.

“Now we’re just surviving to be liked.” Romance mumbled in resentment as he fidgeted with his bracelets. No one spoke for a while. Each boy struggled to swallow the truth that had been facing them the entire time.

Then Jinu nodded. “But we chose to keep doing this.” They all looked at him in disdain. “We agreed to do this because we wanted to show the girls that we were something good. And now we have to show that to everyone else too. We’re tired, yeah. But… maybe that’s part of being an idol.”

Baby groaned in annoyance, but a small smile, the first real one anyone had seen from him in weeks, tugged on his lips. “Why do you sound like a motivational speaker?”

Abby snorted. “Because he’s right.” It was true. Jinu did motivate them into joining his demon boy-band in the first place. 

“So what now?” Romance smiled with exhaustion.

Jinu stood up. “We rest. We take care of each other. Then we get back on stage. Because we owe it to ourselves.”

Slowly, they stood too.

Because if they had learned one thing from their past life, it was that you don’t stop fighting just because the enemy looks different.

[watchingtheboys]

bed chem ౨ৎ bff!anakin skywalker MDNI 18+ tags: mutual pining, best friends to lovers, female reader, mentions of sex, alcohol, fluff. lmk if i should make a pt 2 of this… ♡

anakin skywalker would be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about how you’d be in bed.

he feels so wrong- so creepy- for even wondering, but he can’t help it. sure, he’s seen you in your underwear, and slept in your bed, but it’s not enough.

he hasn’t seen you with your lips red and swollen, your mascara smeared and smudged, your bare body underneath his.

no. he feels like he’s betraying you by thinking about stuff like that. you’re his best friend, you’ve spent your whole lives together, and he’s sure you’ve never thought about this stuff with him…

“ani?… ani!”

your voice, sweet as ever, snaps him out of deep thought. you’re sitting next to him on somebody’s couch, at a house party padmé just needed to have you guys at. he smiles up at you, an almost dazed expression on his face. “hm?”

you giggle at him slightly, leaning closer to him so he could hear you over the painfully loud music being played. “gosh, what’d you drink? i swear, i’ve been trying to get your attention for, like, ever,”

“oh.” he smiles sheepishly, like a kid whose been caught sneaking candy. “nothi- i haven’t had anything. i’m driving you.” he reminds you.

“dunno, i figured you found someone else to.” you shrug dismissively, although you know he would never drink knowing he’s meant to drive you home. he shakes his head in response.

you smile up at him, and he sprawls his arm behind your shoulders and onto the couch, positioning himself closer to you. a content sigh escapes your lips as you take in your surroundings.

anakin watches the way your lips part, his eyes traveling down your body, taking in the tight dress you’re wearing tonight. gosh, did your tits spill out of it like this when you tried it on for him at the mall?

his mind almost drifts to what it would be like to take that dress of you, how it would feel to have those heels you’re wearing dig into his back. you don’t notice his stare, and how his pupils have grown so large you can’t see his irises.

he shakes those thoughts away as a few of his friends walk over. you don’t know them all well, but they’re always polite to you. you’re sure that anakin told them to be on their best behavior around you.

he greets them while you smile courteously, the shots you had with padmé and a few of your friends making you a bit more relaxed than usual.

“what, you and your girl sneak off to makeout?” one of the guys, who’s name you remember as james, says and nods towards his hand draped on the couch and over your shoulders.

you let out a small giggle, and you’re sure your face flushes, but you thank the dimmed lighting of the house party for hiding it.

truthfully, you often found yourself wishing you were ‘his girl.’ you know it’ll never happen, so you’ve gotten yourself used to just being his best friend.

still, you’ve never dated anyone, because they’re just not him. and when he’s asked as to why, you just smiled up at him playfully, replying with: “why would i need some guy, when i already make my best friend do everything for me?”

“yeah, we sure did.” anakin replies sarcastically. you know he’s only joking, but just the thoguht of it makes your spine straighten. you try to remain calm, laughing passively. you silently thank god for tequila.

james shrugs “i’m still surprised you’re not with her.” he says dismissively, ignoring anakins annoyed expression. “come on, you haven’t thought about it?” he says, laughing.

anakin doesn’t respond for a second, and you miss the slight smile on his face. “shut up, man.” he says, almost embarrassed. james holds his palms up in mock surrender, laughing.

“oh he definitely has.” laughs another friend, ethan, and you stifle a giggle. anakin shoots him a glare, and the rest of the guys just laugh.

the rest of the party goes on, and you and anakin get separated at some point, padmé dragging you along to go play beer pong or something.

you lose count of how much you’ve drank, and by the time anakin spots you in the crowd, you’re visibly wasted. he swears to himself, quickly bidding his friends a good night (ignoring their protests for him to stay) and hastily making his way over to you.

you’re leaned up against a counter, attempting to talk to one of your friends, while trying not to pass out or throw up right in the middle of the kitchen. anakin, like your knight in shining armor, quickly appears at your side.

“ani!” you slur, smiling up at him, quickly grabbing onto his bicep for balance. “hey sweetheart, i’m gonna take you home now, ok?” he says. you never drink, and on the rare occasion you do, it’s never more than a beer or a shot. he knows how wasted you are, and curses himself for letting you out of his sight.

“why?” you pout, wanting to stay longer. “you’re drunk baby.” he replies simply, as patient as always with you. you giggle at him. “yeah.”

he nods, smiling back. “yeah. you are.” he snakes one arm around your waist, steadying you, and you bid goodbye to your friend as he leads you out of the house. your heels click on the concrete driveway as he walks you down it, and he lifts you in the passenger seat of his truck, the throw blanket you always keep in your unofficial seat gets draped over you.

he starts his truck, soft rock music quietly fills the cab as you guys drive out of the neighborhood and down the street to yours. you reach up to grab his arm, his right hand coming off the wheel to intertwine with yours

after a while, the truck comes to a stop, and he gets out to open your door. you smile, unbuckling your seatbelt as he comes to your side of the car, helping you out and up the front porch stairs of your house.

as well as your moms being best friends, they also bought neighboring family houses, which has always called for lots of sleepovers between you and him. luckily, your parents are off on a trip, and mr. & mrs. skywalker know anakin is staying at yours, so there’s no need to have to sneak in.

he helps you up the stairs and into your bedroom, sitting you on your bed and kneeling down to take your shoes off. you giggle girlishly at the action, always finding the ways he takes care of you so sweet. anakin huffs out a laugh at your drunken glee, setting your shoes aside.

“hold on, ‘m gonna grab your water.” he says, walking over to your bedside table and filling a glass from your carafe and handing it to you. you gulp it down quickly, not realizing how parched you were, before saying a soft ‘thank you.’

he nods in response, handing you a nightgown to change into. normally, he’d be salivating at the sheer idea of you changing, but he’s so focused on making sure you’re comfortable and in bed, that he barley even notices. he turns around as you change, ever the gentleman, but he still catches notice of the way your nightgown puts your plush thighs on full display.

“wait. my makeup.” you say slowly, realizing you still have your makeup done. “hm?” he says, scanning your face with worry. “need to take my makeup off.” you explain, brows furrowed softly as you try to speak clearly. he realises what you mean and disappears into your bathroom, returning with makeup wipes, a damp washcloth, and moisturizer.

he’s seen you do this routine a million times, so he has no difficulty gently removing your makeup. he has one hand on the back of your head as he tilts it up to make sure he’s removed everything, before rinsing your skin with a warm cloth. you smile softly as he applies moisturizer, amused by how focused he looks doing it.

“good?” he asks, and you nod, crawling into bed and pulling the cool cotton sheet over your body. your eyes instinctively close and you feel the bed dip beside you as anakin lies down, now changed into just a pair of flannel pants. you lay on his bare chest, melting into the warmth.

he wraps his arm around your waist, his thumb rubbing small circles into your back. “i had fun.” you say, the tiredness overcoming the alcohol in your system. “yeah?” he replies, smiling down at you as you nod into his chest.

“mhm.” you mumble, and he leans down to plant a kiss to the top of your head. “i’m glad.” he says softly, trying to lull you to sleep. you crane your head up, your eyes shut as you whisper to him. “i’ve thought about it, too.” you admit, before laying back down.

his thumb freezes, no longer tracing patterns on your back, but it doesn’t matter as he already feels you sleeping. if it wasn’t for the fact that james’s words haven’t been playing on loop in his head all night, he’d be confused by what you said, but truthfully he can’t stop thinking about it. do others know how he feels about you? is it obvious? is it obvious to you?

he must have been imagining it. maybe you said something else. besides, you’re wasted and delirious. surely you couldn’t have been admitting your feelings to him.

right?

© 2025 @watchingtheboys – i do not own the rights to any of these characters, this is simply fan content. please do not copy any of my writing and repost or translate to other sites.

[nhmkhnh]

POISON.

PAIRINGS: DOM!VI X SUB!FEM!READER

PREFACE: "you are the poison i can't help but addict, baby."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: okayy mega jumbo headcanons about perv + obssesed vi i kept for myself out now! enjoy <3

WARNING(S): lowercase, explicit content (minors & men dni) TAGS: perv!vi ;; obsessed!vi ;; stalker!vi ;; jealous!vi ;; possessive!vi ;; filthy thoughts 24/7 ;; clothes sniffing ;; jerking off ;; shrine of your things ;; toxic obesession ;; horny thoughts ;; breaking point energy ;; protective but perverted.

navigation.

1. vi knows your entire daily routine down to the minute—and not because you told her.

she’s memorized what time you leave for class, what drink you always get from the same shitty café, and even how long you spend in the shower. she doesn't just notice it—she schedules her whole day around it. not because she has to. just because it’s you.

"you take exactly twelve minutes to brush your hair, sweetheart. you always skip your bottom lashes on tuesdays. yeah, i pay attention—what, surprised your little stalker takes notes?"

2. she steals your clothes like a sick little habit.

not the cute ones, not the fancy ones—the worn-in ones. your favorite hoodie? gone. that pair of lace panties you thought you lost in the laundry? in her pillowcase. she doesn’t even try to deny it. just smirks when you ask.

*"dunno what you're talkin’ about, baby… but if i *did* have 'em, maybe i'd just be keepin’ ‘em warm for you.”*

3. vi’s phone gallery is 90% you.

you asleep. you eating. you laughing at a meme she didn’t even send. some pics are sweet. some are… well, taken through a cracked doorway while you changed. she gets off to them on lonely nights, biting her knuckles, whispering your name.

“fuck… look at you. you’ve got no idea how bad i wanna wreck you.”

4. she jerks off to your voice.

a voicemail, a saved video, even a muffled recording from a café where you were talking to a friend. vi’s hand’s already down her sweats before she hits play. her forehead pressed to her screen. whimpering like you’re there.

“say my name, c’mon… baby, just one time. fuck—please—”*

5. she fantasizes about ruining you in public.

bent over a sink in a club bathroom. up against a brick wall in an alley. in the backseat of your friend’s car. she dreams of making you cry her name through clenched teeth, knowing people are just a few feet away.

"you’d let me, wouldn’t you? be a good girl, take it all while they pass by, clueless to how fucked-out you are…”

6. vi loves when you wear skirts.

not because they’re cute (they are). but because it’s easier access. she’s touched you under restaurant tables. at bars. even while you were on a zoom call once. and you tried so hard to keep your voice steady—god, she lives for it.

“keep talkin’—pretend nothin’s wrong, c’mon. let me feel how wet you are for me, baby.”

7. she’ll lose her fucking mind if she catches you flirting.

even if it's innocent. even if it's just you smiling too long at someone. her voice gets low, hands on your hips, jaw clenched like she might bite you. jealousy makes her primal. possessive. dangerous.

“you wanna make me mad, sweetheart? you wanna see what happens when you act like you ain’t already mine?”

8. vi dreams about breaking you in.

your thighs trembling. your voice going hoarse from screaming her name. you limping the next day. she wants to be your first thought every morning and the ache between your legs every night.

“i wanna fuck you so good you forget anyone else exists. just vi. just me, in that pretty little head of yours.”

9. she has a list of things she’ll do to you…

a literal list. scribbled in a beat-up notebook, hidden under her mattress. everything from tying you up with her wraps to edging you for hours until you cry. some pages are so smudged from her fingers she had to rewrite them.

“you wanna see my favorite entry? the one where i keep you cockdrunk for a week straight, unable to speak without moaning my name?”

10. vi doesn’t just want your body. she wants to consume you.

every laugh, every breath, every little secret you’ve never told anyone else—she wants it all. and once she has it, she’ll never let go. not gently. not softly. she wants to be the reason your legs shake and your trust breaks.

"you're mine. and if i have to fuck it into that pretty head of yours every night to remind you… so be it."

11. vi sniffs your scent like an addict in withdrawal. your pillow, your gym towel, your half-worn sweater you forgot at her place. she’ll hold it to her face, inhale like it’s oxygen, hips grinding down on nothing as her brain short-circuits.

"you smell like heaven and sin, baby. no wonder i can’t fuckin’ think straight around you…”

12. she has a secret playlist full of songs that remind her of you.

some are sexy. some are sad. some she fucks herself to while mouthing your name like it’s a prayer. she’s even written down the timestamps of parts where she imagines you begging for her.

“this part right here—yeah. that’s where you’d be moanin’ my name into the sheets, huh?”

13. vi gaslights herself into believing you want her just as twistedly.

you looked at her once for a second too long? you’re in love. you asked for help reaching something? you’re submitting. she reads everything like a sign.

“don’t act shy, baby. you’re the one who started this… remember? you asked me to come closer.”

14. she watches you sleep.

not in a cute way. in a sick, slack-jawed, pupils-blown way—her hands creeping up your thigh while whispering how perfect you are. sometimes she touches herself beside you. quiet. careful. possessive.

“so sweet… so fuckin’ good like this. you don’t even know what you do to me, do you?”

15. vi fantasizes about ruining your dates.

if anyone else tries to get close? she's already planned how to humiliate them. show up. drag you out by the wrist. maybe even kiss you so hard in front of them you can’t breathe.

“they can’t fuck you like i can. can’t make you scream, can’t make you cry. you know that, don’t you, baby?”

16. she leaves hickeys where no one can see—yet.

she marks you up under your clothes, down your thighs, on the insides of your wrists. her favorite? right over your heartbeat.

“let ‘em look at you and not know who you belong to. that’s our little secret, yeah?”

17. vi records herself moaning your name.

she’ll send it to you when she’s extra feral. or worse—she’ll play it into your voicemail box so next time you check your phone all you hear is her breathless, whimpering “please, baby… fuck, please let me taste it.”

18. she’s made a drawing of you. naked. and not from imagination. from memory. from every second she’s seen you stretch, yawn, bend over—she pieced it all together in a fucked-up masterpiece she keeps in a locked drawer. sometimes she jerks off to it. sometimes she just stares.

"my dirty little muse. you make it so easy, baby.”

19. vi edges herself to the thought of you crying her name.

no orgasms unless she earns it. that’s the rule. she pictures you tied up, shaking, begging for more. she teases herself until she's panting—then stops. again and again.

“not until she says my name like she means it. not until she breaks.”

20. she’s already imagined your wedding night.

but not the romantic part. no—vi dreams of dragging you into the honeymoon suite, ripping the dress, fucking you face-down until you sob into the sheets from overstimulation.

"you’re mine now, baby. for real. for good. ‘til death do us part—and even then, i’ll crawl outta the fuckin’ grave for you.”

21. vi has a dedicated shrine drawer of your things. not an altar. a shrine. hair ties. half-used chapstick. a receipt with your lip print. your doodles. she lays them out like relics. sometimes just stares at them and murmurs “mine” under her breath.

“it’s not weird. it’s not. you left it behind—you wanted me to have it.”

22. she reads your old texts like porn.

even innocent ones. "hey can u help me carry this?" her brain twists it instantly: "can you help me get off, vi? please? i need you." she scrolls and scrolls, one hand between her legs, the other clutching the phone like it’s a lifeline.

23. vi masturbates with your stuff.

that silky sleep shirt you forgot? wrapped around her fist. that lip balm? on her mouth before she moans against her pillow. she wants you to find out. wants you to walk in and catch her in the act, shameless and slick and ruined.

"c’mon, baby… just stand there. watch what you do to me.”

24. she’s obsessed with your mouth.

the way you pout. bite your pen. lick frosting off your finger. every time she sees it, her brain shorts out. she’s not thinking about kissing you—she’s thinking about you gagging on her strap while tears line your lashes.

“you’ve got no clue what that mouth could be doing, do you, angel?”

25. vi practices dirty talk in front of the mirror.

like some pervy little theatre kid—fingers in her hair, hips rocking, whispering what she’d say while you’re crying under her. she tests out phrases, intonations, smirks. she wants to destroy you, and she wants to say it right.

“nah… not that one. needs to sound meaner. filthier. like i’m gonna break her.”

26. she’s memorized the sound of your moan—even if she’s never heard it.

she imagines it every night. different tones, different pitches. she'll lie back, eyes shut, headphones in, playing some random porn while pretending the voice is yours.

“that’s it, baby. sound so sweet when you’re desperate. bet i could make you scream for me…”

27. vi’s favorite position is the one where she can watch your face while ruining you.

missionary? only if she’s got your wrists pinned. cowgirl? only so she can slap your ass and yank your hair. she needs to see your tears. hear your whimpers. taste your surrender.

“look at me. i said look. i wanna see your face when i break you.”

28. she gets turned on when you cry.

not sobbing. not pain. but when you're overwhelmed—flushed cheeks, trembling hands, lips parted in a whimper? she can’t help it. something about the way you come undone makes her want to kiss your tears and fuck you senseless.

“aw, baby… look at you. so sensitive. you want me to stop? or you want me to go deeper?”

29. vi doesn’t dream about vanilla shit.

her fantasies are feral. you on your knees, leash around your throat. you tied to her headboard, begging to cum. you wearing nothing but her dog tags while she fucks the possessiveness into your throat.

*"say it. say you belong to me. that you're mine and you *like* when i’m fucked up over you.”*

30. vi jerks off to the idea of you getting scared of her.

not in a cruel way. but in the oh god, what did i just awaken kind of way. she wants to watch you realize how deep her obsession runs. how dangerous it is. and how much you like it.

“you don’t even know what you’ve done to me, baby. and now? it’s too late.”

PHEWW PLEASE DON'T JUDGE ME IM JUST A GIRL </3

[with-my-calamitous-love]

i’ll be in denial for at least a little while / what about the plans we made?

ya! k. bakugou x reader

after a month with radio silence and encouragement from concerned friends and family, you end up at katsuki’s doorstep. themes of depression/isolation, mentions of death (katsuki failed to protect a family on a mission), angst with some comfort at the end.

one of those ones i just needed to write. special tag for @crushmeeren <3

song: tv

11:03 pm.

"he doesn't normally do this." you have eijirou on speaker phone while you look for your keys. you can't see him, but you know already the worried look in his red eyes as he speaks. its the same worry he's had for katsuki back when they were still in UA. its the worry you'd expect from a best friend.

he can't see you, but he knows you're worried, too. because anyone who gets thoroughly ghosted by their boyfriend with no warning would also have shaky hands as they drive over to check on them. anyone who cares about someone else, worries.

"you said he's still coming to work, though?" you know the answer. yes, you've heard from shouto that he's still heading to the agency regularly, going on patrol and field missions as normal. but what you don't know, what you aren't able to confirm from what people are seeing, is what scares you: what if he's dragging himself out of bed, exhausted because he didn't sleep? what if he's skipping meals? what if he's going on missions, secretly hoping that something goes wrong?

"yeah, but he barely talks to anyone. i mean, i know he doesn't care for small talk, or whatever, but... somethings wrong. i can feel it."

your stomach churns, making the turn onto his street. for a while, you sit in the driveway, trying to see into the windows. maybe he's asleep. maybe he's perfectly fine. but most of that is just hope.

"what if he doesn't let me in?"

literally, because theres always a chance he's asleep and doesn't answer his door- though he's always been a light sleeper since going pro. but theres also the chance that he lets you inside his home but not into the walls he's built around him this past month.

"he will. he has to. he loves you." eijirou's voice feels like refuge, even over the phone.

you take a deep breath, hands clutching the sweater your wearing. its his, and you almost feel a little bad that you've taken it from him. does he have other things keeping warm? he has other sweaters, or blankets, hot showers and even his own explosions, but is he still feeling cold? alone?

eijirou drones on a little more. he's not the one sitting in his abesent best-friends driveway, but like you, he's stalling. "what happened was... it was terrible. but no ones blaming katsuki for that."

"yeah. except katsuki probably is."

he's silent over the phone. you both knew it, but didn't want to say it.

"i'm going in."

the redhead nods, though you can't see him. "i'm here if you need me."

"alright, by eiji."

"bye, [y/n.]"

your heart is pounding, bracing yourself for whatever may happen. but part of you knows that whatever you're feeling, your boyfriend is probably feeling tenfold and alone. its why you need to do this.

tentatively, you raise your knuckles to the door, knocking.

theres silence for a moment. you hear some footsteps that pause just before the door, like he knows its you.

on the inside? he feels pathetic for trying to hide, hoping you'll go away. he knows you won't, you both know it.

"katsuki?" your voice is quiet, afraid of disturbing any ghosts. "c'mon, i know you're in there."

he tenses. he wants to make up an excuse, tell himself that he's fine, that he doesn't have the time, that leaving everyone behind suddenly isn't a sign that something is wrong. but he's a liar and a bad one.

"go away."

he winces to himself, knowing he sounds like a child. but truthfully, its what he wishes he were, right now. a child who didn't have to feel the weight of failure pressing down on his ribs.

"i'm not going away until you let me inside." you say, firmly. "please."

its the first time you're hearing his voice in weeks, and its enough to bring you to your knees. he's been doing this for a month, but you wonder if he's felt lonely or scared or confused for longer than that.

"...i don't want you to see me like this."

you fight back tears. "maybe i do. maybe i wanna see you."

he's leaning his forehead against the door, knowing it's gone on too long. he knows he can't keep this up forever, and that at one point, you'd come to his front door. he expected more anger, anger for being a shitty neglectful boyfriend that never opens up about his feelings.

but he doesn't hear any anger in your voice, at all. and that makes him feel worse.

"please." you plead again, ringing the doorbell, hoping it'll annoy him enough to open the door. you'd rather have him pissed off, annoyed or angry than have none of him at all.

he shakes hid head, hand on the doorknob. its already unlocked.

"you're fucking stubborn, aren't you?" a sentence that comes out with something like a laugh. your chest tightens, worried he's about to tell you off. for a minute in the silence, it seems like it.

but then he opens the door, letting you see him.

you want to run towards him, feeling his strong arms wrap around you, pulling you into his home and back into his life. but the fear of him rejecting that holds you back as he lets you inside, closing the door behind you.

you first note how dark it is. obviously, because its near midnight. but he's never been one to go without at least a window open, to let some moonlight in. he can't stand artificial light, anyway. he's always bitched that it messes up his sleep.

"you mind if i open some curtains?" you ask him, softly gaging his reactions.

he scoffs quietly, but reels in his attitude- most of it, anyway. "i don't care, do whatever."

you ignore his spite, walking over to the living room window and drawing the fabric. it's a perfectly clear night, a sky so full of stars you could swim in it. its something so beautiful, something he hasn't let himself experience in weeks.

you presence in his home is felt like that of a ghost. you take more time to look at his surroundings. you can hear his voice before this: "i like shit clean. and you're bad at that."

but now, he doesn't seem to care. theres dirty mugs and unwashed laundry. you're not saying anything, but he's expecting it. he's expecting you to call out his hypocrisy, or just how shitty he's let his place become. the thought makes his anxiety skyrocket, and following that, shame.

but instead, he watches as you collect a few of the cups and rinse them off in the sink. somehow, that makes him feel worse. what the hell did he do to deserve that?

"what are you doing?" he asks. you notice one of the mugs he got as a gag gift for his 20th birthday, though he took it seriously. a world's greatest hero mug, now dusty and forgotten.

"don't worry about it." you say, turning back to face him.

neither of you know where to start. he's hoped that if he stayed alone, drowning in his own depression, he wouldn't have to watch when you inevitably leave him.

"you know it's been a month?" you gently approach him. he's not moving away from your presence, which should be a good sign.

"i know." he says fast, cold. you know his tell that he's angry- short replies, pissed off red eyes and distance. he's not even mad at you, though. just himself.

"eijirou called, said he was worried. we all were, i mean."

his eyes dart up to meet your for a brief moment. the mention of him makes his chest tighten up more, knowing you're not the only person he's disappointed. he feels like a true, honest coward. he's not getting along with anyone. maybe he's the problem.

his silence makes you panic, wondering if he's listening. "i wanted to give you space. you're my boyfriend, i care and i-i didn't wanna push you."

he nods, arms crossed, looking at the floor.

"i'm just sorry it took me so long to get here."

his eyes meet yours again, this time holding your gaze. he wants to cup your face and tell you that you have nothing to apologize for. that he's hard to approach and hard to love, even though he knows you'd disagree with that. but the words get caught in his throat, and filtered by unresolved anger.

"yeah, well... you're here now, aren't you?"

you just nod, grateful that you're both, at least, talking. thats more than anything else in the past month.

you think back to the articles of what happened. how two young parents with kids even younger were tragically injured during a bank robbery. how pro-hero dynamight successfully captured the criminals but couldn't prevent what happened to the innocent.

whats worse is how neatly packaged and sanitized it became. "a physical altercation." "an unforeseen criminal event." "and unfortunate and untimely demise." he hated the way they tried to save his name, to not pin any blame him or his failures. he was blaming himself. why wasn't anyone else?

"you know no one blames you for what happened, right?"

because no one does. but for katsuki, thats the worst part. he should have bee faster, better. if he had been seconds earlier, maybe they could have gotten to the hospital faster. maybe he could have prevented it, all of it. if he was just a few seconds faster.

but he wasn't, and it'll haunt him forever. "they should be blaming me." he says solemnly.

you shake your head, stepping closer to him, hands itching to reach out. you want to take his blame and guilt away, even just for a moment. you wanna be able to touch him again. you wanna feel your boyfriend and everything he is.

theres tears in his red eyes as he recounts everything, breaking down. he once swore to himself he'd never cry in front of you, or anyone. now, he's starting to see that you're the only person he could cry around.

"how many people are grieving because i fucked up?" his voice raises slightly, but you hear through it.

"they know you tried."

"yeah well, not hard enough!"

he takes a deep breath, the thing he always tells you to do when you sprial. he lets the air sit in his lungs before finally pulling you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your head as he holds you. he's tired of being alone.

"has it really been a month?" he asks, quietly.

you just nod into his chest, speechless. he's letting you in again, letting you touch him, feel him. its the closest you've been in what feels like decades.

you pull away just a little, hands cupping his face, looking into his teary eyes. its the first time in a while he's let himself cry, feel. and it makes his chest ache. his bones are exhausted from pushing down his feelings, of saying that he's fine, that he deserves the exile he's placed upon himself the past month.

"i'm sorry i'm shitty a boyfriend." he sobs. "and a shitty person. you deseve so much fucking better, they all did."

you shake your head, hushing him compassionately, wiping his tears. "i don't want better. i want you." he pulls you in tighter, and for a moment, time stops, the way he's wanted it to for the past few hours.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.*

2 am.

you both sit on the living room floor, backs against the couch. you're pressed against him, holding his hand while he rests it against your thigh, his thumb gently stroking over your skin. he's been exhausted as of late, but he doesn't want to close his eyes and miss this moment with you.

but when he looks over at you, your head on his shoulder, he feels more and more that he's allowed to let his guard down. you're still very much awake, but it's the first night in a while you can sleep without aimlessly worrying about him.

"you know idiot, for what its worth, i haven't been completely alone." he says looking over at you.

your eyes perk up. if there was anyone else who made sure he wasn't suffering in silence, its someone you wanted to know. "really? who?"

he pauses for a moment, like he's recalling a conversation in his head. one thats been buried by guilt and anxiety for the past month. but with you, he's letting himself admit things.

"...i spoke with a member of the victims family. she was the sister to the mother of the family. she was at the hospital the day it happened."

his answer took you off guard. in your head, he boarded himself up in his house, isolated and alone. you're not completely wrong, but you do feel a pang of guilt for not thinking better of him.

"how did that go?" you push gently.

"i expected them to be angry. to blame me for it. hell, i blame me." he starts, reminiscing the event. "but she was kinder than i deserved. said she didn't blame me."

you can tell he doesn't believe her words, or anyone's. that he still replays it in his head, living the guilt, the guilt that he survived and others didn't, eating at him.

"she sounds really sweet." you squeeze his hand.

he nods. "yeah, she was."

"you know," you start, trying to give his mind a brief holiday from the turmoil. "if everyone is saying it, it kind of has to be true."

his lips twitch into a reluctant smile. "whatever, idiot."

you sit up, facing him as you piece together your next words. he pulls your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles, wanting to hear your voice. right now, its the only thing keeping him afloat.

"the hardest part about this job is that you can't save everyone. you can't change that."

what you say isn't new, its a reminder. that no matter how many things he blows up, how many villains he handles and how many times he climbs to the top, he'll have to endure the pain of loss. he's seen it in every teacher and every hero who came before him, and all the up and coming heroes who still have lessons to learn. and deep down, he knows that its no reason give up. he's determined to be the best, to be everything he said he'd be.

he nods, hearing the truth in your words, knowing that he'll need to make peace with it. he has no witty remarks or curses to add. just a drive to do better.

"but knowing you? you'll probably still try."

he brings his face to yours and then your lips to his, kissing you. his hand comes up to your cheek as he lingers for a few moments before pulling away.

"of course i will."

[pineconepie]

CHARACTERS: Lux, you/reader

WARNINGS/TAGS: Cults, plane crash, vague religious themes (not to any religion in particular), parental yandere, isolation, false idols, death, blood, gender neutral reader, infantilization, developing stockholm syndrome, manipulation

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This one was a popular request! While not one of my favorite yandads, I really did enjoy writing a scenario like this, probably one of my more unique ones so far! Let me know if I forgot any warnings or if you'd like one to be added! I'm pretty sure its obvious I hardly proofread this past a brief look-over ^^;

It all happened so very quickly; one moment, you're just scrolling through your phone with your headphones in and listening to music, occasionally glancing outside of the plane's window to admire the view of the forestry below you.

The next thing you know, there's an explosion coming from the airplane engine. Everything starts shaking rapidly, people screaming as they quickly put on their seatbelts and look for oxygen masks—yourself included.

However, it is no use. The airplane makes a loud nose-dive towards the ground, and before you could even process what was happening, everything goes black.

...

You feel like death warmed over.

When you awake, there is an immediate burning sensation that fills your entire body, particularly your left arm. It feels broken. In fact, all of you feels broken. You feel as if your body has been run over by several trucks. Your face is throbbing.

What the hell happened?

You manage to lift your head. There's blood and bodies everywhere, some of the blood is definitely your own. No one else seems awake, or even alive.

There are small fires surrounding you that provide light in the dark forest. One wing of the plane was blown completely off, but it looks like you're still close to where most of the plane is gathered.

Even if it hurts like hell, you manage to somehow get up on your own two feet.

With the little amount of strength you have, you stumble out of the plane and collapse on the dirt floor outside of the area.

You are panting heavily, looking around at your surroundings. Your entire body screams with agony, every time you breathe, you're inhaling ash.

Despite having just woken up, you already feel yourself about to pass out again from the pain. You stumble as far away as you can from the plane, looking for any other survivors. Surely it can't just be you, right?

Wrong.

No matter how much you look, you don't see anyone even close to being conscious. Not one.

That's when it hits you like a bus—you're going to die.

You fall to your knees, clutching your chest in terror. All that you were able to process before the crash happened was the explosion. Now, all you know is that you're stranded, possibly hundreds of miles away from any sort of civilization.

What makes it worse is the fact that your arm is probably broken, meaning that there is no way for you to defend yourself from anything that lurks in this godforsaken place.

But knowing how doomed you are, is there really any use in that, anyway?

No... The best option would just be to curl into a ball and give up on life right here, right now. You lay on the grass, clutching one of your many wounds, shutting your eyes.

The sound of footsteps and horses galloping makes them snap back open.

Your head immediately whips to where the source of the sound is coming from. Your first thought is other survivors of the crash who woke up the same way you did.

That idea is crushed, however, when you look closer only to find that these people are clothed weirdly—in odd dark green robes with some kind of golden symbol engraved on it.

It doesn't take a genius to realize that these people aren't survivors like yourself.

These people must've been waiting for someone in this forest.

And even if their faces are hidden beneath the cloak, you know their eyes are all glued to you.

Your blood turns ice cold. You try to stand back up, but the searing pain prevents you from doing so, which only results in you falling down to the grass again.

Now, you regret not giving up on life earlier.

These people are getting closer, making a circle around your bloody state.

"Look, Father!" One of them speaks. Their voice is muffled behind the hood over his mouth. "I told you! We heard an explosion nearby!"

Father?

All of a sudden, a taller figure emerges from the group. His attire is slightly different than the rest—the robe appears lighter colored with more intricate designs on it.

He lifts his hood off of his head, revealing a man in his mid to late-forties staring down at you with a grin on his face. He has long blond hair tied in a low ponytail and green eyes that glow in the light of the flames from the crashed plane.

The man's expression turns from neutral to glee. "My dream was correct!" he cheers, causing everyone else surrounding him to do the same. "The Gods have blessed me with a child!"

A what now? You try crawling backwards away from them, shaking your head frantically. You attempt to open your mouth to say something, anything, but your vocal cords don't seem to be working after screaming bloody murder during the crash. Instead, your thoughts come out as coughs from smoke inhalation.

"Oh, my baby," he croons, kneeling beside your injured body. "Don't be afraid, little one. Papa's here now."

"They're injured, Father Lux," one of them states the obvious.

Despite that being obvious from one glance, it seems this man, Lux, was too happy to even realize until it was pointed out. His expression turns concerned, looking over your tattered self.

You try backing up from him again, but a few cultists gather around behind you so that you have nowhere to escape to.

"Poor thing, you must've been so scared." He tuts, grabbing you by your intact arm gently, examining all of your wounds. "Those burns are going to need treatment. And..." His hand hovers over your broken limb. "This will certainly need medical attention as well."

"Should we carry them back?" another follower asks.

He thinks about it. "I'll bring them on my horse back to camp. Opal, you follow, just in case." She nods. "The rest of you salvage the airplane for any useful parts."

"And if there's other survivors?" one of them asks.

Lux smiles eerily, shooting a glare in the direction of the plane.

"There are none," he tells them firmly. "But if there are, put them out of their misery quickly. They were not in the prophecy." His eyes turn to you, softening immensely. "Let us get you somewhere safe and sound, shall we?" He kisses your bloody forehead. "Welcome home, little one."

Without another word, he scoops you into his arms and carries you bridal-style towards his tan horse. The entire time, he coos at you sweetly.

It's a miracle you've even stayed conscious for so long. Finally, you black out with Lux stroking your face with his fingers as your head rests against his chest.

...

You wake up yet again feeling like death itself.

Although this time, instead of the sounds of screams filling the air, it's replaced by silence accompanied by chirping birds and crickets outside. The burning hot sensation still remains on your skin, but it has decreased significantly from earlier. Your body is covered in bandages all over, and your arm is now in a secure cast.

Even better, you're no longer laying down on grass or dirt, but rather on a comfortable mattress. As your vision becomes less fuzzy, you can see that the room around you isn't familiar either—it's furnished with various paintings and candles.

It's very clean.

You also find that your outfit has changed—you're no longer wearing your bloodied clothes, but rather an oversized cloak similar to the one Lux was wearing.

At this realization, memories of last night's events flood into your mind.

Oh, no. The airplane, the crash, the green robed-cult people—

You notice that your throat is dry. There's a glass of water placed nearby. Despite how painful it is to lift your arm, you muster enough strength to sip the glass and hydrate yourself.

As soon as you place the cup down, however, a new figure enters the room through the door. One you recognize.

"There you are, my baby." The tall man from before approaches you. He's not wearing his cloak this time, but what resembles more of a surcoat. "How was your nap?"

You swallow your own spit in attempt to soothe your dry throat. "What is going on?" is all you can rasp.

"Aww," he coos, walking closer and sitting at your bedside. He strokes your cheek with the tip of his index finger. "Don't you remember, little one? Your airplane crashed last night, and you were nearly torn to shreds."

Torn to shreds is quite the exaggeration, but okay.

"Okay, but," you practically cough out, "who are you? Where am I?"

Lux chuckles. "Everyone here calls me Father Lux, as I am the founder and prophet of this society." His smile grows wider. "As for who I am to you, that would be 'Papa.'"

"I... I have no idea what you mean," you state honestly.

He keeps that smile that you could only describe as eerie. "Despite my followers calling me 'Father', I never viewed them as my actual children. I always longed for a child of my own. Every night, I prayed to the Gods for one. So imagine my surprise when they informed me in a dream of your arrival. When you would come falling from the skies!" He places a kiss on your head. "Oh, I am so very grateful. Even if it weren't in the prophecy, I would have adopted you on the spot regardless, sweetheart. But alas, destiny spoke and gave you to me." He holds both of your hands in his with a loving stare.

You pull away from him immediately, hissing from the pain of your burns and broken bones as a result. "I'm not your child!" you cry out.

Lux's cheerful expression suddenly morphs into a firm scowl. "That wasn't very nice," he says sternly.

"You don't understand," you croak. "I need to get home. Please."

"Honey..." he places a hand on your cheek. "Home is where I am."

Your heart sinks. This guy is insane, you conclude.

And unfortunately for you, insane people aren't exactly reasonable.

Still, you try. "I'm not even a child! Look at me, I'm an adult!"

He just coos at you. "The outside world really corrupted you, didn't it? They fail to acknowledge not all adults are fully developed mentally. And when it is acknowledged, its only to bring shame." Lux shakes his head disapprovingly. "Little ones should not be ostracized in society. Everyone develops at their own pace. Some will mature slower than others. There's no harm in embracing being younger than you are."

You shake your head back and forth. "This is absurd," you tell him desperately.

"Even if I were to let you go, where would you go to?" he asks.

A lump forms in your throat. That's a good question, actually. You have absolutely no idea where you're currently located or how to get anywhere from here.

"Let me tell you something," Lux continues. "We're in dense mountains, deep within forests and surrounded by animals who won't hesitate to devour you alive in an instant. Not to mention, the nearest civilization from here is miles away. I know, because that's the exact reason I chose this place." He strokes your cheek, looking at you with faux concern. "So why don't you take a second to rethink your options here?"

There's a tight knot forming in your chest.

He's right. You literally have no other choice but to stay here.

"What does this cult even believe in?" you challenge, but there's no more anger to your tone. Primarily defeat.

"Cult?" Lux tilts his head to the side. "Oh, silly, this is not a 'cult.' A cult implies we are some sort of strange, extremist religion."

You furrow your eyebrows.

"This," he motions his hands in the air, "is simply a sanctuary. A community." Lux pauses to look down at you. "As for our beliefs, well, everyone is free to believe their own thing, because everyone has a different interpretation of the Gods."

"Then what's your point in being here?" you ask, exasperated.

"Well, there's something we do all collectively believe in. Peace, love, acceptance." He brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Something that you, little one, are very unfamiliar with. I'm here to help everyone else—including you—to escape from all that chaos and destruction."

"From the sounds of it, you're just making yourself out to be a god, talking about dreams and prophecies," you retort. "It seems all these people believe you."

Lux nods. "I suppose that's another thing all my followers can agree on; I'm simply a messenger, someone chosen to lead them in the right direction. But I am no God, sweetheart." He kisses your forehead once more. "Just a vessel of sorts."

You want to tell him he's insane. That this entire place is a complete madhouse.

However, that doesn't seem like the greatest idea at this point. For all you know, this man may be capable of things far worse than death.

Not that you'd have much of an option, anyway. All you can do is sit in this bed as your wounds heal painfully slowly.

"Listen, sweetheart," he whispers. "I promise, you're going to love it here. There are many others your age for you to play with. Here, you don't have to worry about a single thing in life aside from living, breathing, and being loved every moment."

You gulp at that.

"But you don't even know me," you whisper back shakily. "None of you know me."

"On the contrary," he argues. "While you rested, I asked some of my followers to gather identification documents of other victims to bury along with their bodies." Lux pulls out a piece of paper that turns out to be your ID card. "(Y/n) (L/n)," he reads, grinning. "Though, now I suppose that'd be (Y/n) Sampson. My surname, if you weren't aware. It's your surname now as well."

All of a sudden, tears begin pricking your eyes. You can't even wipe them with your injured arm.

Lux quickly uses his own thumbs to brush them away from your cheeks.

"It'll be okay," he coos, pulling your fragile self into an embrace. "You're going to thrive here. I'll make sure of it."

If anything is true, it's that you definitely won't be thriving. Or keeping your sanity, for that matter.

...

For the first few weeks, you remain bedridden, with only minimal ability to walk around due to your injuries.

The house you both reside in is bigger than all the other's houses, you assume. It's a cabin-style cottage made of logs. It appears to have several bedrooms and other amenities such as running water.

Yet no phones, televisions, radios—basically anything related to communicating with the outside world. No form of entertainment.

Well, there's Lux, but you'd hardly call him entertaining.

On the plus side, the area surrounding this small commune is incredibly gorgeous.

There's an endless array of forestry, hills, mountains, and wildlife. There are even certain areas where wildflowers grow. And that isn't to mention the incredible views of sunrises and sunsets every day, even if only outside of your window.

Sure, most of the time, the scenery is blocked by high trees. But it's better than nothing.

Occasionally, Lux will allow you to step outside the house with him and accompany him in strolls around the perimeter.

Today is one of those days.

"This is the best part of living out here, if you ask me," he tells you as the two of you stroll through the gardens. "Look around, angel. Beautiful flowers bloom everywhere, every single day. Gods truly are magnificent beings. You can see their artistry shining through everything." His hand finds yours, locking together.

The only thing that prevents you from recoiling from the touch is the fact that you know it's a losing battle.

Since that fateful night, you've learned quite a lot about this place.

Firstly, you have a bedtime that cannot be broken for any reason whatsoever.

Secondly, Lux does indeed consider himself your father, but gets upset if you do call him "Father". That's something only for his followers, as he genuinely believes you are more than that—his actual kid. Or "baby" as he prefers to refer to you as sometimes.

Lastly, there is absolutely no way of escaping. You're hundreds of miles away from anything remotely close to civilization, and even then, Lux has eyes practically everywhere, making sneaking off impossible. Especially when everyone in the entire village is in constant awe and praise towards you.

There's no doubt in your mind that anyone would snitch on you immediately should they spot you trying to make a run for it.

So in short, you're stuck here until your untimely demise.

"Why are you so quiet, sunshine?" Lux suddenly asks.

His voice snaps you from your thoughts. You blink a few times.

"I'm thinking," you shrug.

"Mhm." Lux hums disbelievingly. "About what?"

"About my family and friends who must be worried about me." It's the only thing you have been thinking about lately. "They probably think I'm dead." Just like everyone else.

Lux drags out a long sigh. "Good. Let them think that."

Ouch.

"Do you not understand?" He stops in place. "You and I were destined to meet. It was fate that brought you into my arms that night. All of it happened for a reason." He cups your face in his large palms, tilting your head up to look into his green eyes. "Do you really think its a coincidence that not only did you survive a plane crash where most died, but that it had to crash in these mountains? In this location of all places?" He clicks his tongue. "Nothing happens unintentionally."

You narrow your eyes at him, ready to give him a snarky remark in response, but think about his words. "'Most'? So you're saying some did?"

"Hm?"

"You said most died."

He stiffens momentarily, almost as if debating on telling you the truth. "Some did live after the fall," he admits eventually. "Not everyone, of course. Only a few. But they were in pain. Too much pain that could be helped. The medic only has so many supplies, all that should be used on you."

You freeze, giving him a wide-eyed gaze.

"Lux," you barely choke out the name, "are you saying that you killed them? When they were still alive?"

"'Papa'," he corrects. "And it was mercy kills. It was better this way, honey. Imagine having survived an airplane crash, but in agony with limited medical care."

"So if I weren't in your stupid prophecy, you would've killed me too?"

"No." Lux says it with absolute certainty. "Whether you were or weren't, you would be right here, with me." He presses a kiss to your temple. "Even when they are dead, the outside world still wishes to tear our bond... now no more talk of that dreadful place and situation. We're supposed to be enjoying this beautiful evening together."

...

More days pass, though you aren't sure how many. It feels like its been forever, but its likely only been three weeks at most.

Either way, you miss the outside world. A lot. Never did you think you'd be saying that.

You miss your family. Your friends. Technology. Entertainment.

But alas, none of that can happen out here, in this stupid mountain cult society with their insane leader.

Their insane leader that wants to adopt you as his own child, apparently.

You're allowed to go outside more often now, but he always appoints someone to watch over you and supervise every move you make. After all, you're supposedly the equivalent of a toddler, so you need constant supervision. Like toddlers often do.

The people your age or older get to choose if they still wish to be treated as children or like adults. You don't mind that, but you wish you got the same option of choice they did. You're often forced to play with them outside.

From the looks of it, it'll be hard to escape. Not only are you doomed from a geographical standpoint, but there are always guards, even at nighttime.

Yet perhaps luck will be on your side. Maybe if you get out of here, you can find the crash site. All planes have some kind of way to track them, right? Maybe they are looking for you. You know they'll likely assume you're dead if they don't find you at the wreckage.

Even then, its not like you're on an island. Maybe you'll find hikers, or someone who isn't insane who lives here.

You decide its worth trying only after you're more physically healed.

"Stargazing?" Lux asks you suddenly.

He's standing nearby on the porch of your shared cottage home, sipping some hot beverage. Probably tea. Its chilly, and there's a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

You nod wordlessly. You have to admit that its probably prettier than the view back where you live. Less smog and air pollution blocking everything.

Lux smiles, putting his cup down to join you. He wraps one arm around you to keep you close.

"These mountains provide us with such peace," he states. "Away from cities and towns full of chaos, where we can bask in nature without the stresses of society plaguing us. I think you're already healing because of it."

"Healing," you echo bitterly.

"Indeed." He tilts his head upwards towards the starry sky. "Isn't this so much better than looking at your phone? Than hearing traffic noises at ungodly hours of the night? No stressful paperwork, no worries about working nine to five just to have a roof over your head or decent living conditions?"

You want to disagree, but you can't. Because technically, he isn't wrong. It is nice. Even if you'd prefer your other life to this.

But maybe you can change the topic to something useful.

"Do hikers come by a lot? Or outsiders, in general?" you ask.

He shakes his head. "I know what you're thinking. And no, sorry to disappoint you. The last outsider we had was about two or so years ago."

You grimace, looking down at the dirt.

"Your home is here," Lux continues, kissing your temple. "You have no responsibilities here. You can play all the games you want, make all the friends you desire, enjoy the beauty of the outdoors every morning until nightfall. And most importantly, you're safe, cherished, and adored. How could you ever wish for anything else? Do you think you have a family out there that loves you more than I do?"

"You don't love me. Besides knowing my name, you don't know anything about me," you mutter.

Lux gives a light smile. "I've been urging you to tell me more about myself, it isn't my fault you little ones are so stubborn; but I don't need to know everything about you to know that this is what you need. Here, you have a warm bed to sleep on every night. Plenty of food to eat. Fresh, clean air, a caring father, and lots of friends."

"I don't even know them," you reply curtly.

"You will in due time." Lux runs his hand up and down your back comfortingly. "You shouldn't think so much. Leave those matters to me, all right?"

...

Its been about a month and a half when you're feeling much better physically.

Mentally, well... you'd rather not think about that.

Every few days, the cult has some kind of celebration. Everyone is singing, dancing, eating, laughing. There are bonfires, flower arrangements, all of it.

You never participate, despite all the coaxing. But given you plan to escape tonight, you might as well. Maybe you can give Lux the false notion that you're beginning to enjoy it here.

Then, when everyone is having a good time, you can just slip away and pray the guards are too distracted to notice you.

As soon as Lux sees you shuffle outside to the event, he lights up.

"(Y/n)!" he exclaims happily. He's wearing a much more bright robe, as the rest of the people are, as well as a flower crown out of sunflowers resting upon his head. He takes a glass of grape juice and offers it to you, which you accept.

"How lovely it is to see you joining us!" he continues.

"Just felt like being social today," you lie with a shrug.

He claps his hands together giddily. "Oh! I knew you would adjust!" Lux brings you into an unexpected embrace that crushes your bones.

You force yourself not to wince or recoil, and instead lightly hug back.

Lux proudly shows you off to everyone. They all greet you excitedly. You respond, though with far less enthusiasm. The entire time, your eyes scan every inch of the area, trying to find out the best route to run away through, and where all the guards are located.

At some point, you don't even feel as if you're faking your enjoyment.

Everyone is so eager to hear what you have to say, and the food is delicious. You even end up wearing one of the flower crowns one of the other little ones (as they are referred to by Lux), put on your head.

Unfortunately, before you can even slip away from everyone, you end up exhausted, plopping yourself onto Lux's lap while he eats by one of the bonfires.

He seems shocked at this, and you are as well by your own actions, but he wraps his strong arms around you and pulls you closer to his chest.

"Oh, look how tired my sweet baby is," he coos. "Looks like it's past your bedtime."

Despite everything, you sigh contentedly and lean against him.

Maybe just this once is fine. After all, you haven't done this since you were actually a child. Plus, you're exhausted.

Tomorrow is another day, and this definitely isn't the last celebration they'll be having.

"It was so wonderful to see you smiling and laughing tonight," he tells you, brushing the hair out of your face. "And the other little ones were so happy to see you. I think you have the entire community wrapped around your finger." He boops your nose. "Including myself, of course."

"Is (Y/n) tired? I was gonna show them the kites we were making earlier today!" one of the littles exclaims to Lux.

He smiles. "Sorry, little one, it appears so. I think it's not far off from your bedtimes too." He helps you up, keeping a firm hand around you to support you and your sleepy state.

Once you get home, he tucks you in your bed, gently removing the flower crown to place on your nightstand.

"Sweet dreams, sunshine. Thank you for spending the day with us, it meant the world to everyone. Especially Papa." He leans down to kiss the top of your head. "I love you so, so very much."

With that, he blows out the candles and closes the door behind him.

You'll escape, you're still sure of it. Just... not tonight.