#yet another siren au

[generalsdiary]

the amethyst siren

Dr. Ratio x Aventurine

warnings: mention of blood, one (1) curse word

word count: 3.3k

a/n: the making of this series was, truly, inspired by my wonderful mutual @kimeoshi and their amazing artwork of siren ratio here

description: siren!ratio x human!aventurine strangers/enemies to lovers, a ship crash forces them to work together for the best outcome for both sides (in this chpt)

Chapter 1: The Crash

Despite the current events the man blessed with luck still had hope, he’d somehow swim up and reach the surface, have his lungs fill with oxygen. Hope is a fragile flower, an anemone, the petals which bruise and break at the lightest touch. and the hope began wilting as Aventurine felt fear. Goosebumps rose on his skin, and if he wasn’t wet already, he’d be covered in a cold sweat. His eyes widened, trying to take in more information upon the sight opposing him. a merman…? a beautiful merman had his gaze set on Aventurine. with a long thick violet tail, his arms and lower torso trailed with small purple scales, and long dark nails, his hair was wet hence too dark to distinguish the color. the merman was a majestic, otherworldly view. The end of his tail was a royal ocean blue and he had many accessories decorating his appearance… along with a piercing glare. Except, Aventurine had human eyes and his vision underwater could only allow him to recognize the tail. Not human. Not a human, nope. The gun left his hand, floating beside him before it started slowly sinking. trembling upon the sight, an unnatural amount of fear kept him frozen and terrified. No escape, no running, no exit. this creature stared down at him and Aventurine’s vision grew dark… finally feeling the sensations in his body again only to sense the burn of his lungs and weakly attempt to swim up before it all went dark.

Dark clouds in the distance covered the horizon, forewarning rain, and the flashes of white, an oncoming storm. Aventurine stepped out on the deck to confirm this information the captain of the cruise told him, he didn’t want the rain. it hadn’t come when he needed it, when his people needed it. the betrayal sits deeply in his bones. the easy line that falls off his tongue “I don’t like getting my clothes wet, they’re too expensive” a superstitious lie that also makes him look shallow which works in his favor. Better than people asking why he dislikes the rain.

thinking about it now, he regrets going onto the deck. The waves were looming high, sending a warning. The ship nearby that had the intention to raid them ended up crashing into them and Aventurine took out his gun in an attempt to defend himself. the water made the floor slick and the ship he was on slowly tilted… crashing, sinking. The pirates weren’t without damage, but Aventurine fell off board. With a scream that died in his throat and a gun that was now useless, he sank under the waves.

the sea was calm below the waves… quiet, not pushing, rushing. Yet the serene peace did not reach Aventurine, the slow burn of his lungs like timber slowly getting stronger and the helplessness isn’t allowing him to appreciate it. although he’d never appreciate it, the ocean is still a form of water. Betrayal runs deep.

Veritas could hear everything. The rumble of the clouds in the distance, the wail of the waves getting stronger, the man on the front deck mumbling and lighting a cigar, the captain laughing, clinking his cup, loading his gun. The sea glided across the sides of the ship, the distant people casually chatting on the ship while the men here were about to raid it. Soft mumbling of a man hoping it won’t rain. with all the noise so diluted in the sea, his hearing outside of it was turned up a whole notch, overwhelmingly so. Veritas tried to meditate, something to not think of the dirty algae-covered glass box he was in, the ropes around his body, the future that was stolen from him and where he may be taken- simply worse than death. So, when the sea whispered to him of the ships crashing, he fought tooth and nail to get out. the sharp sting in his side from the shards of glass, the burn of the ropes on his arms, splinters of the dirty wooden floor, and cuts and bruises as he fell back into the sea- none of it mattered, as long as he got free again. The sea welcomed him in its cold embrace, like a protective parent, pushing him deeper and deeper making sure he was out of anyone’s grasp. Salt on his lips and oxygen in his gills, safe, quiet. If only he didn’t give his voice away. Veritas could’ve sung his way out of this. he didn’t expect to regret his lack of singing ability to bite him back that hard. Back then, what he got in exchange for his song was worth much more. His hazy thoughts were interrupted when he saw glowing blue and pink eyes staring at him. extraordinary… they are shining… Veritas swam closer, this human- how is he human? Is it not another of his species? those eyes are not ones of a human. Impossible. Another train of thought stopped when the human’s eyes closed and Veritas saw the slow rise of his chest, his hand immediately pressed against the human’s mouth and pinched his nose. A line of rose prickly curses fell from his lips as he swam to the surface. Damn you, Veritas. Always helping. Always saving. From his knowledge of humans, inhaling water will kill them, and choking will make them lose consciousness for a few minutes but will keep them alive. Finally reaching the surface, a shiver runs down his spine, he could be captured again. Maybe he could throw this human onto a ship? Yet his captor’s ship ran away and the other one was slowly sinking. Veritas kept the human’s head out of the water and kept himself hidden underneath the small body. watching the ribcage. Come on… contract, expand, come on. you can breathe. I was fast, I was fast enough. Veritas finds the lack of patience getting to him and he lists the information he knows in his mind. Humans cannot stand the pressure of the water and it may also push on their ribs… could that be… with his other hand, he pushes the human’s chest above the surface. Breathe. It is oxygen, you should be able to inhale- and he feels the contraction of the muscles. A sigh of relief.

After a few minutes of swimming, he fails to find a surface to leave the human upon. Turning it into his problem, or a death on his hands. He is a healer among other things, he will not have more blood on them. Veritas spends the next hour or so learning the pattern of the blond’s breathing, also noting the fact the human is still out cold. After the learned pattern he waits for the next inhale and- dives under. His hand covers the mouth and pinches the nose once more, he refuses to jump out like a dolphin- someone could see. but for each duration of a breath, he’d dive under and swim at a great speed in the direction he hoped the waves sounded right. A cave. The way they swished and kissed the walls, it had to be a cave.

Aventurine awoke to a dark area, the sun barely rising to light it up, covered in greenery and small waves splashing his clothes. He sat up, a strange tug around his fingers. a thin green weed. He quickly shook it off and tried to make sense of his surroundings, with a coughing fit scrubbing at his lungs. And a pair of eyes. They weren’t there a moment ago. There it was again. The fear. His breathing sped up, one of the hunted prey and he quickly met the wall behind him with his back, cornered and lost. No pretty words could salvage this, is this a person? Can he communicate? His luck has to be good for something- how did he get here, is it-

“you have awoken.” Frozen. Aventurine couldn’t move, his limbs stilled, and muscles stiffened. Where is his façade? why can’t he…

“I have tied a piece of grass to your finger and connected it to a shell, were you to tug it you would have opened the shell and it would’ve screamed. Which you did and then it, also did. How is your comprehension? I lack in experience of treating humans post accidents. I’m not particularly familiar with… ones that look like you. legs and… lungs only. I, uh. I brought food, it is beside you.” Veritas pointed to a couple of figs. Aventurine had so many questions, and he wanted to take control of the situation yet his mind remained empty with all but paralyzing fear and he takes a bite out of the fig, and only then does the fear loosen its grip on him.

“hello, friend~” he flashes his usual smile, a hand coming to rest behind his back, “I am Aventurine”

“that is a lie. I know of human names, and that isn’t a common one.” Veritas narrows his eyes. Aventurine in hopes of not angering the creature quickly corrects himself, “Kakavasha. I am Kakavasha. Aventurine is my title. Sort of. Anyways, and you, my dear merman are…?”

Veritas glared. A quirk of his eyebrow revealed he was insulted. “I am not a merman. Veritas.”

Aventurine ate more of the fruit. Not a merman… a mermaid? Perhaps he was wrong? It seemed impolite to intrude- but he had to play the cards he was given. “in that case, what is a beautiful creature such as you, my friend?”

An unamused expression Veritas usually had around the little ones came to shine upon the human. “a siren.” Aventurine quickly hid his reaction of shock. He nods as he processes this information- it makes sense. The fear. He is lucky this siren didn’t sing to him. drown him. kill him. jump him off the top deck and drag him under with a sweet, lovely lullaby.

“this was the… closest land I could bring you to. I assume you’re familiar with these waters?” Veritas quickly got to the point, he didn’t want to spend a moment longer in the presence of a human. In the presence of the kind that kidnapped him.

Aventurine slowly snaps out of his thoughts, his eyes meeting the siren’s. “I am not. I… I was here on a business trip, I can’t say that I know the surroundings. Thank you for… saving me.” He came upon the conclusion, it must have been the siren, who else would have it been? The ship surely crashed and sank. And since the siren has an uncanny glare, making Aventurine feel uneasy with shivers down his spine, he decided not to lie.

“I do not need your gratitude, I am a healer after all, and all lives matter.” Veritas says the ever-practiced line, spoken often, falling easily off his tongue. But the underlying edge to it doesn’t escape Aventurine’s ears. The blond tries to switch the power dynamic and make the air light with a flashy smile, “ah, so you’re a doctor~ how lucky for me”

“so, you don’t live here? Like… you can’t just swim back home- I mean dive?” Aventurine inquires.

Veritas shakes his head slightly, a hand reaching out of the water to facepalm. The sharp long nails, a dark purple shade which lightens and turns to scales the higher it goes up to his biceps. Veritas uses the motion to also scrunch his face into the palm, to ease his breath and not wince from the constant pain burning in the various cuts over his body. the cost of his escape was not high, and if he were at his home, or at least in the area he was familiar with he could have… gathered the necessary medicinal plants to treat them. the water around him slowly turned darker while one of his injuries, still filled with glass shards, slowly bled into the sea. In and out. breathe. breathe. The end of his tail, a brilliant blue shade, flicked, Veritas thanked the sea for hiding it- he was in pain, a lot of pain sending white flashes behind his closed eyes. And the density of the oxygen out of the water was much lower, upon the fact he usually uses his gills and not his lungs, adding to the lightheadedness he was feeling. Or is the blood loss? Or mayhaps the fact he struggled to eat anything? Paler in face by the moment.

Veritas removes the hand, a neutral expression again, everything hidden, like a perfect clay mask, one of the sculptures that he swims by in the depths. “a doctor? I- actually, it doesn’t matter, you have no information to give me, yet I cannot leave you here, for you would die. And the nearest land to here is something you wouldn’t be able to swim to.” The dawn eyes meet the watercolor ones.

“do you know every corner of the land, Kakavasha?” Veritas smoothly countered back. and Aventurine hangs his head a bit with a nod, understanding why the siren is still sticking around, and his eyes notice the shade of the water changing, the bruises on the siren’s body; different shades of purple than the ones of his scales and tail, various of red blotches and cuts. “what happened to you? how did you get here?”

“why does it matter to you?” Veritas cautioned.

“well, doc~” another one of those brilliant smiles, “it seems you need to find out where you are and I need help getting to the shore, perhaps we can make a truce? Work together?”

“I don’t trust you” the siren voiced firmly, and sighed. Veritas had no other options. He needed more healing factors, he needed to get home and away from the ship. The pirates. The humans. “I will check if there is any nearby.” And he dived off. Veritas couldn’t speak a word longer, wailing in pain as soon as the water covered his head, desperately he sought for any weeds that had the capacity of healing- anything, I will take anything. Mumbled words, exhausted body, barely holding himself above the sand, searching for a trace of hope.

Now alone again the smile fell off. Aventurine was stuck with the stoic siren, far away, if he wanted him dead that would’ve happened already. All the facts proved to work in his favor, as they always do. Such is his luck. The fresh fruit tasted sweet on his tongue and satiated his thirst. Would the siren value gold? He could give his jewelry in turn for guaranteed protection. The day turned to night, the cave turning dark. It was a chunk of covered rock, with not much room to walk around, Aventurine laid down to sleep, hoping Veritas would show up in the morning.

His pale lips trembled, a metallic taste rested on his tongue, pushing himself closer to a possible shore. Long mossy vines, which were wrapped around his body, swished as he swam. A weak attempt at helping himself. bright lights, noise, little boats, lighthouse. There is a shore. Quite far away. It will have to do. Veritas swam back swiftly to get away from the population and once far enough he slowed down, painfully dragging himself back to the cave. The sting of the incorrectly treated wounds made themselves excruciatingly present in his body.

At dawn, he observed the sleeping human. Seemingly harmless. But his kind did enough harm to him already. “Kakavasha.” The blond stirred, rubbing his eyes, acting relaxed and failing in Veritas’ trained eyes, the flex of the muscles showing obvious tension. The same one the little ones have when he tests their knowledge. “there is a fishing village nearby. It is far away for you, I can take you there the same way I got you here. Might be easier now that you’re awake and conscious.”

“good morning to you too, doc~ no figs today? Awh, how am I supposed to go into the sea on an empty stomach?” Aventurine chirped a melodic tone, wishing he didn’t have to be inside the water. Rain echoing its patterns on his skin. He didn’t want this.

“You can eat amongst your own kind, we shall go. in turn, the truce you mentioned, you can provide me the location of where we are. save your strength I will not go near the shallow water, you will have to swim alone at the part. Now I hope you are ready, we will go now, the small boats always leave early in the day and we should have a clear way to where I can drop you off.” A silence envelops the cave. Thick with tension, the one between predator and prey, yet they were both scared like prey. What will the other do? Who will harm the other one first?

“what happened to you?” Aventurine can’t stop himself from asking, damn his luck, this siren isn’t here because of his luck and to act as his savior, something fucking happened. a simmer of oncoming anger bubbling inside him.

“must you keep pushing that?” Veritas shook his head, the blue gills moving with his indigo hair. “I..” he swallowed hard, will he tell him? should he tell him? Kakavasha could easily do the same thing, take him away, hurt him, treat him like an object to be looked at. “Your kind took me, kept me chained, tied, in a small glass box with dirty water.” Veritas says coldly, an ice knife cutting the tension. “I am not interested in seeing any more ships or people for that matter. I want to do my part here and be on my way. Are you capable of respecting the truce, or do you plan on lying to me again, Aventurine?” Veritas glared, using the man’s title on purpose. if he still had his voice… the things he could do. He would never have to worry about having to trust a frail being which could easily end his life as he knows it. a being capable of crushing the fragile petals of his future days and nights. immortality is a curse if he is taken, experimented on. trust is an expensive thing.

“hold onto me, eyes closed, and breathe only above the surface.”

Aventurine swallowed, he hated it, the simmering anger rising, bubbles popping up on the surface, “I am sorry that that happened to you. humans...” he spat his words, “humans can be disgusting creatures.” Aventurine’s gaze was distant. Veritas quickly caught on, eyes linger on the strange mark on the human’s neck. Ink. Dark, liquid substance. Humans make permanent markings with it. Veritas decided not to push for information, a rare occasion on his side. He recognized that Kakavasha was speaking from a place of pain, darkness and honesty. Trust is becoming less of an expensive thing. “shall we get going?” Veritas softly asked, offering his hand to him.

with a shaky breath, half of his mask off- both of them with half of their masks off, such are the circumstances to establish a crumble of trust, he takes the hand and jumps into the deep water, eyes closed shut at the feeling he despised.

Aventurine nodded, embracing the muscular body of the siren, strangely not cool to the touch as he expected. A gentle warmth, a mixture of smooth skin, silky scales, and a heart beating… he could hear it as he leaned onto him. “I can’t hold my breath for long-“ “I know. I brought you here, remember? I know your breathing pattern.” Veritas adds softly and with a firm grip around the human they dive under.

Sirens, or mermaids for that matter, have the capability of super swimming at great speeds. With a keen hearing and carefully paying attention to the rise and fall of the smaller man’s ribcage, Veritas swam below and above the water level. The small village slowly appeared in his line of sight.

a/n: took a bit longer to write than I planned to, I was busy working on my bacc., chpt 2 should be posted rly soon- within a few days I think. lmk know what you think! and any predictions for the next chapter maybe? <2

[toastedjeans]

Ziti got a sweater now. Oh and a Siren Tower design. That's all

[sirenspells]

Hey guys I finished a one shot

[rats-and-clovers]

calm down, lil boxfish! the sharkie just swam by to say hi UwU

(Cebby is my lovey´s boy @surprise-sausage-party <3 <3)

[muse-stellium]

Me hyper googling au ideas not for rp but bc the sims gameplay be dull of all things

[moonlinos]

I can hear the siren (Siren part I)

♡ Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Camboy!Hyunjin, neighbors AU, strangers to “lovers”

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), sex work, voyeurism if you squint, hate sex kind of?, masturbation, thigh riding, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, Hyunjin’s a bit of an asshole but I love him

♡ Word count: 7.9k

♡ Synopsis: To say your new next-door neighbor is loud would be an understatement. Three times a week, at the same time every night, he will laugh and talk loudly for an hour. After that, like clockwork, a cacophony of his groans and moans will fill your room through your shared wall. He’s most certainly entertaining some hookup, or maybe a girlfriend. You frankly don’t care — all you know is you want your peace and quiet back. But you never would’ve guessed what you would find out upon confronting him.

♡ A/N: Once again, I cannot shut up and this ended up being much longer than I had originally wanted. One day, I will write a one-shot that’s less than 5k words, but today is not that day. I listened to Taeyeon’s Siren while writing this, hence the title. Also think the song’s a little fitting to the story.

part II →

Yet another night, yet another two hours of hearing your next-door neighbor moaning like a porn star for anyone to hear. The thin walls of your apartment, coupled with the fact that your room shared a wall with his own bedroom, make it impossible for you not to hear everything that happens inside his bedroom. Earphones have proven futile in muffling his voice, and you can only distract yourself with mindless YouTube videos for so long before you give up and simply wait for him to finish. Quite literally.

You noticed it was his routine: Fridays and weekends — the nights when he would graciously give the entire building a free show.

But that wasn’t all he did. And that’s what stirs up curiosity inside of you.

An hour before the unholy sounds begin, he spends a significant amount of time simply speaking, laughing loudly, and throwing the occasional suggestive comment here and there. But only his voice can be heard, and considering how damn thin the walls are, you can’t help but wonder why that is. Maybe his hookups aren’t into his long, drawn-out conversations, only there to get fucked and dip as fast as possible. Or perhaps it’s a girlfriend, and he enjoys gagging her. Your mind has had plenty of time to run wild with theories, seeing as he moved about a month ago, starting your own personal version of hell on his very first day.

You complained to your landlord three times now. On the first time, you were dismissed as being too sensitive to noise. Maybe invest in some earplugs, she suggested. The second time, after explaining through gritted teeth that perhaps the entire building could also hear him and it would be wise to give him a warning, she assured you that only your apartment had such complaints — after all, it was only the two of you on that floor. And, on your last attempt before you ultimately gave up, your landlord all but berated you for meddling in your neighbor’s business. She argued he was inside his apartment and could do whatever he desired.

And so, you accepted your fate.

As you walk out of the shower, your bliss at the realization that tonight is a Friday dissipates as soon as it dawns on you that you are in for three days in a row of your neighbor and his antics. You groan, reluctantly making your way toward your bedroom, your body aching after sitting at your desk at work all day. So sleeping on the couch was not an option; your limbs only ached even more the day after you did that to try and escape the raucous noise.

Like clockwork, at exactly ten p.m., his loud voice fills the small space of your bedroom.

“I’m actually going out tonight again, so we have to be quick,” he explains. “But you like it when I’m quick, don’t you? Like when I make you cum so fast you barely have time to understand what’s happening.”

You grimace at his words, burying yourself under your blankets. God.

“I’m going clubbing with a couple of friends,” He continues. “Hopefully, I’ll find a nice girl to take home, hm?”

Crossing out the word Girlfriend on your mental notes, you scoff. What a gentleman he is, letting his hook-up know he’ll have to fuck her fast so he can leave to meet another woman to take home.

“Maybe I’ll record a video for you if she lets me. Would you like that, seeing me fuck another woman? I bet you would.”

What the fuck. The word Girlfriend is added back to your list. Maybe the girl is into that shit, and you’re not one to kink shame so long as everything’s consensual. But you surely didn’t consent to knowing that information. 

Soon enough, his voice drops to a sultry tone, and incessant hums spill from his lips. And the worst part of your night begins.

You hate to admit it — seeing as the guy makes you lose sleep and disturbs your peace since he’s graced the building with his presence — but his dirty talk, when coupled with his groans, becomes far less unpleasant and much more enticing. Every night, you struggle for an hour with the uncomfortable feeling of arousal between your legs, the way he alternates between praises and vulgar words causing a twinge inside of you. But you never dare to masturbate to the sound of his voice — that would be going too far. Or, at least, that’s what you tell yourself as you follow your rule of waiting for him to finish whatever it is that he’s doing to then finally touch yourself. As you tightly shut your eyes, you focus on your upcoming work assignments, desperately trying to drown out the sound of his voice. Maybe boring yourself to sleep is your only escape.

“Oh, I know how wet you are just watching me — fuck,” he groans, a breathy scoff leaving his lips. “Don’t even gotta tell me. Just touch yourself, it’s okay.”

Your eyes shoot open as it feels as if he’s fucking talking to you. You shake your head, the awful feeling of embarrassment engulfing you in the privacy of your own bedroom.

“I know you want to,” His voice is unrelenting, reverberating through your dark room, punctuated by heavy sighs. “Do it for me, will you? Touch your pretty cunt for me.”

You feel your clit begin to pulse, and a loud groan escapes from your lips. So loud, in fact, you wonder if he heard you through the thin walls as well.

Fuck it, you tell yourself inwardly, it’s not like the guy will ever know what you’re doing.

The sound of his voice was as silky and dark as velvet, covering you wholly and clouding your judgment with each word. You allow your hand to slip underneath your sleep shorts, gasping as you find the fabric of your panties already soaking simply from hearing his words — almost begging, guiding you to let go of your reservations and touch yourself.

“Just like that. D’you like the sound of my voice?” He asked, voice breathless, a deep groan echoing through the walls. “Like hearing me moan for you? Bet you’d like it even more if I was fucking you.”

Your fingers delicately flick back and forth, teasing your clit, your mind now shamelessly imagining his fingertips, his tongue, his cock, anything he was willing to give you. You’re quick to lose yourself in this imagination, despite not knowing what the man looked like — you soon realize that wasn’t at all important, a dark shadowy figure hovering over you proving to be more than enough for you as you felt a rush of wetness pooling between your thighs when your neighbor let out a louder, guttural noise.

“Fuck, I’d love to be stretching that pussy out,” He chokes out, and you bite your bottom lip to keep from making any noise. You’re now hyper-aware that if you can hear him this loudly, he’d be able to hear you with the same amount of clarity.

Your embarrassment only goes so far, though, as you slip a finger into your cunt, your breath hitching and your eyes fluttering closed to better conjure up the fantasy your mind had been creating. You imagine his long fingers inside you in place of your own, the words he spilled almost nonchalantly being whispered directly into your ears. One finger soon turned into two, then three, the heel of your palm rubbing against your clit as you tilt your hips up. You throw away your last drop of inhibition as you indulge in vivid thoughts, imagining the shape and size of his cock and, most importantly, how it would feel as it filled you up. Your neighbor’s words almost faded into white noise, his grunting the only coherent sound in your ears.

Would he take his time with you, like he always did whenever you heard him? Teasing you for hours as he candidly talked about nothing in particular, rendering you unable to do anything but beg for him? Or would he be hasty, like tonight, his cock abruptly stretching you to the brim, making you feel every inch of his thick length? Would he rather finish on your breasts, your stomach, or maybe your face, taking a picture to keep as a souvenir he could show off to whoever he was with during these nights?

“Come with me,” His voice suddenly became clear once more, deep and hoarse as you imagine his lips pressed against the shell of your ear. “Think about how good it’d feel to have me come inside you, stuffing that little cunt while you milk me dry.”

You purse your lips as you feel your release approaching, coaxed purely by his words. The mental image of this stranger painting your insides with his release, all the while his intoxicating voice told you how good you were, how warm and tight you felt enough to have waves of pleasure wash over you, body tensing up as your orgasm surges through you.

As you slowly come down from your high, you feel your consciousness come back to you. Your fingers leave your core as if you were just burned by fire, which is fitting as a feeling of burning embarrassment wraps around you tightly like a vice.

But the worst part is that the shame quickly ebbs away as you hear your neighbor’s chuckle, the laugh of a stranger you had come to almost memorize.

“You know I’m always glad to make you come. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And with that, everything around you falls into a quiet stillness. You faintly hear as he shuts his front door, presumably leaving for that club he had mentioned, and you’re left to lie with your regrets.

This has just crossed a line, and although you couldn’t bring yourself to feel all that guilty, you still knew it was wrong. You had no choice but to confront the cause of your troubles yourself.

Unfortunately, that cause was a person you had just shamelessly fantasized about as you fingered yourself.

The next afternoon, you stand at your neighbor’s door, hesitant to knock. Since he mentioned going clubbing last night, you knew coming by in the morning would be futile, but you also know — sadly, all too well — that Saturday nights are when he’s the loudest, and he only stops well past midnight. You settled for the afternoon, preparing lunch as you rehearsed your words in your head instead of enjoying your weekend.

You knock twice, and that familiar voice soon rings through the door, asking for a moment. A minute later, your neighbor is standing in front of you, holding the door open with sleepy eyes that focus on you. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but surely not a tired-looking tall man with messy black hair wearing a pout on his lips, as if you just rudely disturbed him from his sleep (how ironic). From what you heard during the last month, you were ready to have to face a shirtless fuckboy, a permanent smirk etched onto his lips as he eyed you indifferently. Instead, you’re greeted by soft cheeks and half-closed eyes.

“Yeah?” Your neighbor croaks out, face still heavy with sleep.

You clear your throat, returning to the matter at hand. “I’m your next-door neighbor, I—”

“Nice to meet you, neighbor,” he says before you can even finish your rehearsed opening sentence, his lips curling into a small smile. You fight back the urge to roll your eyes. Somehow, him being so soft is making you hate him even more.

“I wish I could say the same,” you mutter, “Y’know, you’ve been making my life a living hell since you moved in.”

He doesn’t answer, instead running a hand through his hair, the strands falling into place and away from his face. After a small nod, he opens the door all the way.

“Come on in,” he says, promptly walking inside and leaving you standing in the hallway all alone. You have no choice but to follow after him.

He snatches his cup of coffee from the counter, letting out a tired sigh as he collapses onto the couch and takes a big sip. You sit next to him and watch as he swallows slowly, humming contently, and only then speaking again.

“Why is that?”

You hold back another eye roll. “Well, you’re quite noisy at night,” you hesitantly begin, only now grasping just how awkward explaining this situation will be. “On Fridays and on the weekends, you’re… loud.”

And in an instant, you witness a complete shift in his entire demeanor right before your eyes. Like he’s possessed by something, his once sleepy eyes now bore into you with an intense gaze, and his lips curl into the smug grin you were expecting from the start.

“So you can hear me?” He asks as if you hadn’t just told him exactly that. You feel small under the weight of his darkened eyes, but you shrug, doing your best at feigning confidence.

“It’s pretty hard not to hear you,” you answer simply. “We share a wall, in case you didn’t know. I can hear everything you do in your bedroom.”

He raises a brow at your words as if they piqued his interest. But he doesn’t verbalize it; instead, he speaks in that same nonchalant tone you’re used to hearing through your bedroom wall, “You never told me your name. A bit rude, don’t you think?” He offers you his hand. “I’m Hyunjin.”

You scoff but shake his hand regardless, telling him your name with a sigh.

“You know what I think is rude?” You offer him a forced smile. “Keeping your next-door neighbor up all night with how fucking loud you are.”

Hyunjin doesn’t answer. His gaze traces a path from your eyes to your lips before lingering on your thighs. You instinctively cross your legs, fingers smoothing down the fabric of your shorts. Locking his gaze with yours once more after a few seconds, he cocks his head to the side.

“So I’ve been keeping you up all night?” He muses, and you feel a warmth spread across your cheeks at the rough rasp in his voice.

It’s almost as if he knows what you did last night and is teasing you.

Although you know that’s impossible, your words still get choked up. Hyunjin was undeniably attractive — whether it was looking as soft as he did while answering the door or as if he could devour you with his gaze alone as he does now. You couldn’t be blamed for feeling flustered, especially after everything you heard this man saying and doing.

“Well,” you clear your throat, crossing your arms over your chest. Showing your outrage at this entire situation is your best bet, so you allow for the anger you felt during all those sleepless nights to seep through your veins. “It’s kinda hard to sleep when you’re moaning like a porn star.”

But Hyunjin fully chuckles at that. “So I sound like a porn star?” He nods with an amused hum. “I’ll take that as a compliment, thank you.”

You let out a heavy sigh. Never mind anything you had thought upon seeing him open that door; Hyunjin is everything you thought he would be.

“Look, I didn’t come here to stroke your ego. You’re clearly doing just fine in that regard,” you grumble, and he scoffs beside you, leaning back on the couch with a smug expression you want to slap away from his pretty face. “I came here to ask if you could move whatever it is that you do to the living room, or maybe keep it down. I’m sure that’s not too much to ask.” 

Hyunjin clicks his tongue almost mockingly. “Oh, but it is too much to ask. I can’t really do any of those things. Sorry,” he shrugs, “The building has thin walls. You’re just gonna have to get used to it, I’m afraid.”

You stagger at his words, his lack of common sense seemingly higher than you initially gave him credit for. You’re unsure whether to laugh in sheer disbelief or cuss him out as anger slowly bubbles up inside your chest. How unfairly attractive he looks at the moment isn’t helping your case — he spreads his legs further as he shifts on the couch, bringing his mug up to his full lips and watching you almost uninterestedly with half-lidded eyes.

Fuck this guy.

“What is it you do that’s so important that you can’t at least keep it down? Can’t your girlfriend get off without your obnoxious dirty talk? Is that it?”

Hyunjin shakes his head dismissively. “Don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Your dates, then. I honestly don’t care.” You roll your eyes, which elicits a small laugh from him. You have never wanted to punch someone so badly, all while also wanting them to rearrange your guts. “Whoever it is, whatever it is that you do, can’t we compromise and you be quiet, at least on Fridays? I get home from work exhausted and have to put up with your shit when all I wanna do is sleep.”

“Ah, but Fridays are the most important nights for me,” Hyunjin tells you with a condescending lilt in his voice. “That’s also not possible, I’m so sorry.”

“I see.” You suck in a deep breath, your eyes narrowing and hands curling into fists on your lap. “Then would it be possible for you to move your… activities to the living room?”

Hyunjin contorts his face, shaking his head while that grin is still etched onto his lips. “Yeah, no, that’s also not possible.”

“You’re extremely inflexible, do you know that?” You blurt out, “I’m not asking that you move out, I’m simply asking that you fuck whoever it is that you fuck every weekend somewhere else.”

His piercing gaze lingers on you briefly, as if he’s carefully considering his next words. Sighing, he sets his mug on the end table and sits up straight.

“Let’s make a deal,” he proposes, carelessly ripping a piece of paper from the open sketchbook that lay on the coffee table and jotting something down. “Tonight, you wait for me to start my activities,” he says with a poorly concealed chuckle. “And then you go on this website. Maybe it’ll clear up some things inside your pretty little head. Can you do that for me?”

He hands you the note, eyes darting down to your lips once more before meeting your gaze. The tone of his voice is the same that echoes through your bedroom during those nights — exactly like the one that coaxed an orgasm out of you just last night, and you absentmindedly squeeze your thighs together.

You need to get out of here.

With a small nod, you swiftly stand back on your feet and walk toward the door of his apartment that was left wide open. You quietly mutter a goodbye as Hyunjin says something about it being a pleasure meeting you, all while amusedly staring at you.

It’s only as you close your front door behind you that you look down at the piece of paper that you subconsciously crumpled up. Scrawled in a messy handwriting is simply a website address:

fivestarcam.com

You furrow your brows, walking toward your bedroom as you rack your brain for how a website could possibly give you answers. It dawns on you, then — all the trouble you went through, and yet, no solution to your problem.

Ultimately, you decide you’ve already wasted too much of your patience on this man today, throwing the piece of paper on your bedside table and going about your day, enjoying the tranquility of your apartment while you can.

Night comes too fast, the sun setting outside unbeknownst to you as you lie on the couch for nearly three hours, your focus solely on the plot of the movie playing on your phone. Soon enough, ten p.m. rolls around, and you drag your tired body toward your bathroom. You take a shower with no rush, knowing full well that by the time you walk into your bedroom, Hyunjin’s activities will already have started.

Sure enough, you’re greeted by a drawled-out groan as soon as you enter your room. With a heavy sigh, you throw yourself onto your bed. Your bedroom had always been comforting, your bed almost like a safe haven from all the stress life threw your way. Yet now it’s simply the place where you lie awake for hours, simultaneously vexed and uncomfortably turned on.

You lie still for a while, Hyunjin’s vulgar chatter like the background music to your spacing out, until you remember the piece of paper he gave you earlier. How would a website clear up any of your confusion? And, more importantly, why should you even care enough to find out? From the little interaction you had with the man, you know for a fact Hyunjin will remain unchanging in his obnoxious ways.

However, you’ve always been too curious for your own good, and the mere prospect of understanding this annoyingly enigmatic man even a tiny bit has you hurriedly picking your laptop off the floor and typing out the website address on your browser. Curiosity killed the cat.

The first thing that greets you is a message asking that you verify being over the age of eighteen. All you have to do is click a button, which seems counterintuitive, but you have little time to worry about that when your screen is filled with preview thumbnails of several live broadcasts.

You’ve heard of camming websites before, of course, but you didn’t know they were still a thing nowadays, what with the rise of Only Fans and other more independent ways to go about making money like this.

Your eyes scan the page with agape lips. Men and women — some in their underwear and some already naked, some showing their faces and some wearing masks. And then, your eyes land on a particular thumbnail. At the Top Cammers of The Month section, on the number one spot, is a fully clothed man with familiar long black hair. Only the bottom of his face can be seen due to his camera angle, but that is more than enough as your gaze fixes on his full lips.

That’s undeniably Hyunjin. Your neighbor, Hyunjin.

Before you can make sense of your actions, your fingers are already hovering above the touchpad as you watch the thumbnail image change into a new one. Curiosity is eating away at you, and you can’t deny that your nosy mind is eager to finally see Hyunjin rather than only hear him.

Ultimately, you decide this is ridiculous.

But your twitching fingers brush against the touchpad just as you move to close your laptop, promptly clicking the live video, your screen now filled with the image of Hyunjin in his bedroom. He’s shirtless now, palming himself through his sweatpants — the same ones he wore this afternoon.

“You wanna know how clubbing went last night?” He says with a grin, and you now understand his incessant talking is merely him answering comments from his viewers. Various different names fly through the right side of your screen, some with tips attached to their comments and some simply drooling over Hyunjin as he essentially sits in front of the camera doing nothing.

A cocky smile is spread on his lips once you shift your attention back to him.

“I guess you’re good at following orders,” he chuckles. You then realize your laptop’s volume is on high, and the speaker’s noise permeates through your wall and into Hyunjin’s bedroom. Your eyes shoot open, and you scramble to find your earphones in your bed.

You’re gnawing on your bottom lip as you plug them in, suddenly too aware of the fact that he can hear you just as well as you can hear him. Hyunjin’s smile shifts into a small laugh, his hand wrapping around his length through his sweatpants, the firm outline of his cock straining against the fabric. You feel a tingling sensation spread through your body, your inner muscles clenching as you watch the way his hand squeezes along the thick outline, the muscles of his stomach contracting as he lets out a broken sigh.

This feels wrong, as if you’re nothing more than a pervert watching Hyunjin for your own pleasure. But then again, it was he who gave you the website address in the first place. Why else would he have done that if not for you to watch him?

“I have a special someone watching tonight,” he murmurs, and you can just imagine his gaze right now — his eyes hooded and piercing, locked onto the camera with the same intensity as when he looked at you earlier today.

Hyunjin’s hand reaches inside his sweatpants, withdrawing his cock from the constraints of the dark fabric before you can make sense of what’s happening. Your gaze remains fixed, unable to look away from the red, swollen head that stands out against his pale skin. With lazy movements, he begins stroking himself, the precum dripping from the tip easing the glide of his hand. You bite the inside of your cheek as more arousal leaks from you, gathering in your panties.

“Hope she likes watching just as much as she liked listening to me last night,” Hyunjin rasps out, and you immediately close your laptop, throwing it to the side before burying your face in your pillow.

He knows you got off to his voice. He has to know.

And, unfortunately, your brain is currently too clouded by lust to function properly, and the only logical solution you can come up with is to go knocking at his door tomorrow.

You stand in front of Hyunjin’s door at the same time as yesterday, a strange blend of anger and curiosity making you knock frantically until he answers with that annoyingly alluring smirk on his lips.

“Did you enjoy the show last night?” Hyunjin asks before you can even utter a word, his voice filled with a goading tone.

You push past him, walking into his apartment with a scowl. “Why did you send me that?”

He only shrugs, closing the door behind him before stretching his arms above his head with a sigh. “Needed you to understand why I can’t just stop doing what I do. It’s my job,” he reasons, “I figured showing you was more effective than telling you.”

A scoff involuntarily falls from your lips, and you fight back the urge to roll your eyes. “So you just sent me to a website full of porn without even asking me if that was okay? I don’t care if that’s your fucking job, I never asked you—”

“Did you stay till the end?” He asks, a lazy grin on his lips as his gaze wanders across your face. Clearly, he’d completely ignored every word that came out of your mouth.

“Hyunjin, are you even listening to me?”

“I was thinking about you, y’know?” He continues, taking a step toward you. “Was really easy to come when I knew you were watching me.” He cages your body against the door with his, both hands resting beside your head. His dark gaze locks onto you, causing your breath to hitch. “All I could think about was how you were secretly listening to me all this time. Such a dirty girl.”

Hyunjin clicks his tongue, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. You want to tell him you weren’t secretly listening to him; you were merely thrown into this situation against your will. But his gaze shifts from your eyes to your lips, lingering before roaming over the swell of your breasts, causing your thoughts to blur and your words to die in your throat.

“Kept thinking about how I never heard you,” he says, almost as if he’s wondering aloud. “When was the last time someone fucked you properly?”

His gaze finally travels back up to yours, and the fog of desire clouding his eyes is unmistakable. The moment you knocked on his door, you knew this would happen. You weren’t naïve, and Hyunjin wasn’t stupid; the moment you pushed past him and into his apartment, you both knew where this was going.

“Don’t have time to go on dates,” you murmur as Hyunjin leans down, humming low on his throat.

“Well,” he whispers, the warmth of his breath tickling your face. “You got to listen to me, got to watch me… Don’t you wanna know what it feels like?”

You can only nod, and Hyunjin immediately presses his lips to yours in a searing kiss. He wedges his knee firmly between your thighs, as if he’s silently demanding that you give in to him. Little does he know you’re already way past that point.

Breaking the kiss, Hyunjin studies your features for a beat, the pad of his thumb gliding across your bottom lip as you look up at him with pleading eyes.

“You really want this?” He asks, and you can’t help but feel he does it simply for the pleasure of hearing you beg.

But you happily comply either way.

“Please,” you breathe out, and Hyunjin chuckles, firmly pressing his thumb into your mouth and watching as you wrap your lips around it with a contented hum. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

Hyunjin pushes his thigh against your core, the seam of your shorts creating a delicious friction against your clit. You can feel the warmth of his body as he presses up against you, and a sigh falls from your lips, your hands gliding up around his shoulders. You have no reservations left in your body; the only thing replaying inside your mind at the moment is the image of Hyunjin’s cock on your laptop. He was right. You were dying to know what it would feel like.

His strong hands firmly gripped onto your hips, guiding you to move against his thigh, each back-and-forth motion increasing the pressure on your aching clit. It felt too much, yet not enough at the same time. But just as you’re about to plead for more, Hyunjin’s pressing his lips to yours again and swallowing down your voice. His tongue slides against yours, the taste of coffee and smoke lingering in your mouth as he grazes your bottom lip with his teeth, pulling gently before letting go.

You feel your mind go fully hazy as Hyunjin lifts his thigh, bringing you up to your tiptoes, his muscles flexing and prompting you to roll your hips faster, harder.

“Who would’ve thought, huh? Just minutes ago you were acting like I was the worst person alive,” He lets out a low chuckle, amused, and your grip on his neck tightens as you feel the familiar vexation he brings out of you bubble up inside your chest. “Now you’re humping my leg like a bitch in heat.”

“Shut up,” you choke out, your brain too lust-hazed to conjure up a better response. You don’t particularly care what he thinks of you so long as he keeps his bruising grip on your skin, guiding you to roll your hips against him.

Hyunjin trails kisses down the skin of your neck, settling at the dip of your collarbone and sucking on the skin while you eagerly quicken your speed. His teeth nip at the sensitive skin, undoubtedly marking you, while his thigh begins to bounce against your cunt, and you can feel the familiar aching warmth of your orgasm beginning to tighten in your stomach. But just as you’re about to be hit by the release you’re so desperate for, Hyunjin’s hands leave your hips and slide down to your ass, any stimulation you had before coming to a halt as he picks you up and makes his way to the living room.

“What the fuck?” You all but yell, earning you a hearty laugh from Hyunjin. “I was close, you asshole.”

He roughly throws you onto the couch, a condescending pout etched onto his lips.

“But that’s no fun for me, is it, baby?” He hovers over you, spreading your thighs apart and slotting himself between them. In stark contrast to his words, he gently lifts your shirt over your head, feather-light touch sending shivers down your spine. “Greedy girls don’t get to come.”

You feel your insides clenching at his words, and although you despise the effect he has on you, you’re already here, laid out before him, so you might as well indulge him. You gently push Hyunjin back until he sinks into the sofa, legs lazily spread apart and half-lidded eyes fixated on you. As soon as you clutch at his shirt, he promptly tugs it over his head in one fluid motion, and you attach your lips to the bare skin of his stomach, trailing kisses down the expanse of his torso.

You waste no time tugging his sweatpants down and out of your way, his cock now hanging heavily before you, just as pretty as it had seemed on that little screen. Hyunjin’s hand soon wraps around himself, stroking lazily while you watch the precum dribble from his tip. Tentatively, you grab the base of his cock, bringing your tongue to the head and tantalizingly lapping at it. Hyunjin lets out a quiet gasp, his own hand leaving his length and tangling in your hair, guiding you forward toward his cock. You part your lips and suck the head into your waiting mouth, hands now stroking his length at a slow pace while you lick up his slit, the salty taste lingering on your tongue. You hold back a chuckle when you feel him twitch under your touch, a soft whimper falling from his throat.

Hyunjin’s hips buck up into your lips, and you promptly open your jaw wider and slide his whole length down your throat slowly. You weren’t lying when you said you had no time for dates, which is why you find yourself struggling a bit. It truly had been a while since you had a proper fuck, but you would never give Hyunjin the pleasure of hearing you admit it. Breathing through your nose, you’re finally able to move up and down his cock, swallowing all of him. Your eyes well up as his fingers tug harshly at your hair, shoving your mouth back down the entirety of his thick length. A choked-out whimper falls from your throat, and you instinctively move your gaze toward his.

“God,” he rasps out, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip and eyebrows knitting together. “You take me so well.”

You promptly remove your lips from him with a loud pop, precum and saliva dribbling down your chin as you struggle to suppress a laugh at the utter indignation on his face.

“I doubt you could fuck me if I let you come,” you shrug, and Hyunjin’s expression softens, a scoff falling from his lips.

Before you can say anything else, he’s already pushed you back onto the couch, easily flipping you over so your face is pressed into the cushion. He snakes a hand under your stomach and lifts your hips, quickly working to rid you of your shorts before pressing his cock against your clothed ass.

He leans down, lips pressed against your ear — much like it was in your fantasy back in your bedroom — and whispers, “You need me that badly? I can feel how soaked you are, and all you did was hump my leg.”

You grumble under your breath, but it goes ignored by Hyunjin as he grips your hips and slides his cock under the fabric of your panties, stroking himself along your soaking slit with a low groan. You can feel your underwear gradually dampen more as his precum mixes with your own arousal, the sheer cloth clinging to his cock with each thrust.

Hyunjin’s hand splayed across your lower back, causing you to arch your body and press your hips back instinctively. He chuckles, hand coming down onto the supper flesh of your ass with no warning, a sharp whimper falling from your lips.

“I told you greedy girls don’t get to come,” He reiterates, clicking his tongue and grabbing a large handful of your ass before tugging your panties down your legs. You quietly hoped the trees outside obscured enough of his window, otherwise you’d be in for some interesting elevator rides with your other neighbors. With a hiss, Hyunjin’s thumb presses against your clit before gliding along your wet folds. “Soaking wet,” he mutters, eyes glazed over while he watches your slick coat his finger.

You simply hum, not wanting to stroke his ego any more than you already had by begging him earlier. But you’re unable to contain the gasp that leaves your lips as he pushes his hips forward, the swollen tip of his cock gliding against your warm core once, twice, all while Hyunjin’s hands travel across your ass and thighs. You’re sure he’ll tease you until you give in and beg, but it seems his facade is quick to crumble. He impatiently wraps a hand around his length, finally guiding himself toward your entrance, seamlessly gliding into you with a heavy sigh.

He stills for a second, gaze transfixed by the way your cunt stretches around his thick cock. Until he suddenly pulls out of you before snapping his hips forward again, then again, until he sets a rhythm of deep, fast strokes that have you rocking back and forth on the couch. Pulling yourself up to rest on your forearms, you choke out a loud moan, Hyunjin’s cock twitching inside you at the sound. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” He groans, strong arms encircling your body once more, this time pulling you close to him until your back presses against his chest. Hyunjin’s thrusts grew more forceful, the sound of skin slapping together echoing through his small living room as he relentlessly pumped himself into you. His hand wraps in your hair, yanking your head back and humming against your ear, “Go on, you can moan for me,” he hisses, “I know how good it feels.”

Fuck. His ego is surely something you would never get used to.

But you let go, freely groaning at the feeling of his cock pistoning into you. You can feel the curve of his grin against your cheek.

“Like that, I know how much you like it,” he rasps out, “Just as much as you liked touching yourself to my voice like a little slut.”

“Fuck off, you—” you huff, your words cut off by a drawn-out mewl as Hyunjin’s fingers firmly pressed down on your clit, flattening the swollen bud. You couldn’t control yourself after that, desperate whimpers and choked-out moans falling from your lips with each harsh thrust of his hips.

Your sounds seem to stir something inside of him, and his movements grow more erratic, his fingers circling your clit hastily. A crescendo of arousal and pleasure envelops you as more curses tumble from Hyunjin’s lips against your ear, his hand gripping your cheek and pulling you into a messy kiss.

You clench around him, body shaking with the force of your climax as you seek Hyunjin’s arm wrapped around your body for purchase. He continues pounding into you, and you feel yourself squirm, your vision going blurry from the stimulation.

“Gonna come,” he hisses against your lips, “Where do you want it?”

And you’re too far gone at this point, whimpering, “Anywhere you want.”

Hyunjin curses under his breath, pulling out while his hand finds your lower back once more, pushing you onto the couch before flipping your pliant body over so you’re facing him. You watch with hazy eyes as he strokes himself feverishly over your body, his cum soon shooting onto your breasts.

His unreadable gaze lingers on you for a beat and a half before he nonchalantly tucks himself back into his sweatpants and heads toward the hallway. You sit up on the couch, limbs aching, and chuckle to yourself. This was not your proudest moment, but you surely didn’t regret it.

You don’t expect aftercare from someone like him, so you resign yourself to searching for your discarded shirt. But Hyunjin’s tall frame appears before you, towel in hand before you can even stand up. His touch is gentle as he cleans your chest, and although the gesture is somewhat sweet, it feels extremely awkward.

“Really liked fucking you,” he tells you with a grin, “But you gotta leave now. I’m going live later, and I also gotta go to the club tonight, so I have to rest. But it was fun.”

And you simply scoff at his words, rising to your feet to dress yourself as quickly as possible. It was a bit baffling how he could fuck you the way he did, then tell you he’s off to pick up more girls at a club immediately after. But what did you expect? Hyunjin’s ego and arrogance were clear to you from day one.

“Why the fuck do you go clubbing so much, anyway?” You question as you head toward the front door, and Hyunjin chuckles behind you. “Is that your hunting ground or something?”

“You could say that,” he simply says.

As you unlock his door and step out into the hallway, Hyunjin’s voice calls out to you. Turning to look at him, you’re met with that familiar smirk adorning his lips.

“We can do this again anytime you want,” he assures, and the mere thought of letting him touch you again makes you roll your eyes in disdain.

“Yeah right.”

If only you knew then just how awfully torturous it would be to listen to him, knowing what he was doing — most importantly, knowing what it felt like to have him.

Lust completely clouds your judgment when it comes to Hyunjin, and you soon find yourself coming back to his apartment until it becomes an annoyingly pleasurable habit.

Every day, when he hears you get home from work, your phone buzzes with a text asking that you come over and help him ‘warm up for his job.’ The nights of suffering in your bedroom have transformed into watching him from the corner of his room, enthralled with the way he can make himself come on camera so eagerly and later fuck you with just as much vigor.

It’s a nice arrangement, but definitely not one you see yourself in for the long run. Hyunjin might kiss you and hold you close as he fucks you, but you’re not foolish enough to anchor your feelings to someone like him. It’s not his job that’s the problem, but mostly his attitude toward life. He belongs to nobody, while you yearn to belong to someone. Routine is the last thing on his mind, while you revel in its comfort. You could never be with someone like him.

But it is a nice arrangement.

So you find yourself back in his bed again today, his heavy cock in your mouth as he tugs harshly on your hair, painting the back of your throat with his cum. Except this time, he doesn’t immediately ask you to leave.

“What?” You ask, “Don’t you have to go clubbing or something?”

“It’s my day off,” he shrugs, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close and falls back into bed. You furrow your brows, detangling yourself from him.

“Day off? From what, picking up girls?”

Hyunjin chuckles, eyes sleepy. “I work at the club,” he simply says. “I’m a host, I just act like I go clubbing when I talk about it during my lives ‘cause my viewers can be a bit stalkery.”

“What?”

“Have you heard of The Siren?” He asks, and you hum, recalling a faint memory of some of your co-workers mentioning the club in passing. “That’s where I work.”

You nod slowly, still confused. “What exactly does a host do?”

“Well, basically, I get to make money just by making lonely women feel wanted.”

You can’t help but scoff at his crude description. “And do you fuck them?”

“Well, yeah,” he answers like it’s obvious. “It’s part of the job.”

“Fucking hell,” You let out a hearty laugh, to which Hyunjin shoots you a questioning look. “Your sex drive really should be studied.”

His lips upturn into a smirk, and his arms reach for you again, beckoning you back into his embrace. “No need to be jealous, baby. I only fuck them if they’re willing to pay, and I’m expensive.”

You roll your eyes, allowing him to pull you into his chest. He threads his fingers through your hair, and you can’t help but feel… awkward.

“You’re kind of an asshole, Hyunjin.”

He hums. “Sure, but you still let me fuck you.”

You two stay that way for a while, his fingers massaging your scalp as he presses a kiss to your head now and then. It feels disorienting, like a sudden shift from everything Hyunjin had been until now. He was never caring or sweet, he never kissed you if you weren’t fucking, and he surely never cuddled you. Your face involuntarily contorts into a grimace.

You detach yourself from him, getting up from the bed and telling him you’ll see him later. But Hyunjin is grabbing at your arm with a smile.

“Come on, don’t be sad,” he giggles as you try to free yourself from his grip. “I’m really not the type of guy you should have fallen for, anyway.”

You still at his words, face contorting into pure befuddlement. “Fallen for? Who the fuck says I’ve fallen for you?”

And Hyunjin simply scoffs, letting go of your arm as his smile shifts into his characteristic grin. “Well, there’s a reason I’m number one among the hosts at The Siren.”

“Hyunjin, those girls aren’t exactly after you for your personality,” you deadpan. “You’re really nothing worth falling for.”

His grin slowly fades, and it’s his turn to have confusion take hold in his eyes. “What?”

You can tell he wasn’t expecting this. Almost as if he was expecting you to have truly fallen for him simply because he… is him. And you can’t help but chuckle at the situation.

“Hyunjin,” you call out to him sweetly, and his gaze is back on you immediately. “You’re a nice fuck, but that’s really it. Don’t worry about me falling for you.”

You can swear you see a flicker of hurt in his eyes, but it’s likely only your imagination. He opens his lips to speak but promptly closes them again. He simply stares up at you from where he’s sat on the bed and almost looks sweet. If you didn’t know him, you would undoubtedly be charmed by this convincing facade. You have to give it to him; you do understand why he’s number one at his job.

“But…” He trails off, shaking his head. “But I’ll see you again tomorrow, right?”

“Sure,” you shrug. “We can keep fucking until I find something better.”

You run your fingers through his long hair and make your way to the door, leaving him with an expression frozen in bewilderment.

Hyunjin might kiss you and hold you close as he fucks you, but he’ll never be yours.

But that’s not a problem, as you surely will never be his as well.

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist, @jazziwritesthings

[kamaluhkhan]

LONG HOT SUMMER NIGHT

pairing: luke castellan x fem!poseidon!reader word count: 8.4k chapter summary: it's the summer solstice and olympus is throwing a party! thalia notices the tension between you and luke, poseidon gives you some relationship advice and you punch the god of desire in the face. warnings: angst! jealous reader. lots of drinking. complicated relationships. reader dealing with ptsd + survivor's guilt (post-titan war). mention of injuries + blood. creepy guy pushing reader to hook up. ending is a bit steamy but no actual smut. spoilers for the entire pjo (book) series. no betrayal (au where chris was the one who sided w kronos and led the titan army) so slightly ooc luke <3 also reader is in a band called the midnight sirens and is born on the summer solstice! author's note: thank you so much for all the love for part 1!! summer is almost over and this is very much a summer series BUT summer's not over yet !!! hope y'all enjoy this one too and thanks 4 reading 💙

part 1 | series masterlist

♪: long hot summer night by jimi hendrix

mail to: 

Luke Castellan Camp Half-Blood, Half-Blood Hill 3.141 Farm Road Long Island, New York 11954

LUKE! 

I’m sitting in my kitchen right now, watching Percy make us blue blueberry pancakes and hoping he doesn’t burn down my kitchen while doing so. I caved and agreed to take him to Disneyland while he’s here and breakfast was part of the deal, but I think I might regret it later. 

We went surfing yesterday. It was Percy’s first time, but he was (unsurprisingly) amazing at it. I still can’t get over how beautiful the beaches are and the waves — gods, the waves are unreal. You’d seriously love it here. It’s like every day is summer. You have to come visit. PLEASE come visit!!!!

- [your initial]

P.S. The band and I are working on some new music, which means I won’t make it to camp again this summer. I’m sorry ;( Fingers crossed I’ll make it next year. 

P.P.S. hi luke! happy to report that i did not burn down my sister’s kitchen. anyways, can’t wait to kick your ass in sword-fighting this summer. xoxo, percy

THREE YEARS LATER 

the first time you visited olympus, you had been sent on a quest to retrieve zeus’ stolen lightning bolt, bringing luke and charles beckendorf along with you. you had missed the summer solstice deadline, but still tried to reason with the king of the gods when presenting the symbol of power, maybe calling him out once or twice along the way. before zeus could strike you down for your boldness, poseidon stepped in. the war between them was averted in fear of a much larger, looming threat; an ominous introduction for what was to come in the next chapter of your life.

another time, the gods debated whether or not they should kill you, some seeing you as a threat to their future. that was the day you accepted your destiny, not wanting your brother percy or your cousin nico to deal with the weight of the great prophecy. 

your last visit to olympus was on your 18th birthday, after helping to defeat kronos and his army. you made the gods swear to stop neglecting their kids and to allow all demigods, regardless of whether their parent was an olympian or not, to have a home at camp half-blood; to treat their children as children rather than heroes as pawns in their twisted games.

needless to say, it’s quite strange, being back here under very, very different circumstances, where the gods invited camp half-blood’s senior counsellors and staff to join in their summer solstice festivities.

it’s not every day you’ll be invited to a party on olympus; you’re determined to have a good time, to have fun. there’s already an abundance of music, dancing, food, or alcohol, and the night is just getting started.

you’re happy to be there with new and old friends, but you’re ecstatic when you see that thalia grace is there, too. 

“immortality looks good on you, t!” you compliment, raising your voice slightly over the music.

thalia preens, and you bask in her silver glow. 

“bet you wish you took the gods up on their offer, huh,” she teases. then, her eyes widen. “oh - shit! it’s your birthday! happy birthday!” 

thalia tackles you with another hug; even after all these years, she still smells like pine trees. she grabs two goblets of honeyed wine and hands one to you as you catch up. you eagerly gulp the sweet drink, until you’re reaching for another while listening to her stories about adventures she’d been on with the hunters of artemis. 

about halfway through her story about fighting off a manticore during a snow storm, a nymph appears with a platter of the ripest of fruit – sweet plums and fresh figs, tantalising pomegranates, succulent grapes and crisp apples. 

“oh my gods, this is the best apple i’ve had in my entire life!” thalia exclaims after indulging in a taste, herself giddy from a few goblets of wine. “where’s luke? he’s gotta try this — he’s always reminding us to eat more fruit. luke!” 

you hadn’t kept track of luke, at least not on purpose. you assumed he’d been off partying with van or his siblings, and, probably, avoiding you. wherever he was, thalia calls his name twice more and, like a ghost, luke appears. 

“i’m here, t.” luke’s voice is a deep, steady rumble floating above the music. his cheeks are slightly flushed, either from the heat or the drinks. likely both. “what’s up?”

“you need to try this.” thalia shoves the apple in his mouth before luke can respond. 

luke takes a bite, and some juice drips down his chin. you, in a honey-soaked haze, think about running your tongue over to catch it, but he beats you to it, wiping it away with the back of his hand. 

probably for the best.

“holy shit. yeah, it’s good.”

thalia, a sparkle in her eyes, urges you to try it as well. from across the makeshift triangle the three of you had formed, luke tosses the apple your way. you catch it effortlessly, and sink your teeth into it. 

you’ve almost overwhelmed by the burst of flavor. the fruit is just the right amount of tart to balance out the sweetness, and it’s damn near the best crunch you’ve ever experienced.

“good is an understatement,” you say after another bite. a distant memory crosses your mind. “i wonder if these are the same ones we almost got killed by a hellhound for.” 

thalia shakes her head, laughing in disbelief. “all because luke said we needed more vitamin c.”

“i was just looking out for us!” luke guffaws. “how was i supposed to know that persephone owned an apple orchard in connecticut?”

you pat his shoulder, the three of you smiling at the memory. “let’s call it an honest mistake.”

“well if annabeth had been with us by then, i’m sure that she wouldn’t have made that same honest mistake.” 

“okay, but she’s the daughter of athena —”

you let luke and thalia slip back into their playful bickering as if no time has passed. you listen and continue eating that glorious apple, enjoying how the golden glow of your shared past fills whatever distance might have grown between the three of you. 

somewhere down memory lane, luke’s amber eyes flick towards you.

“hey, you’ve got some….” without another word, luke suddenly reaches over to brush away a trail of juice with his thumb before sticking the finger in his mouth to savour the taste. he holds your gaze as he does so, and you feel a familiar kind of heat rush through your body — not from alcohol or summer sun, but from luke. 

it’s such an intimate gesture that you almost forget that you’re at some extravagant party on mount olympus, where gods and half-bloods and a whole bunch of other mythological creatures are celebrating the start of summer by essentially getting drunk together, until thalia clears her throat. 

“okay, well, seems like the two of you might want some alone time.”

luke’s cheeks grow more flushed than before, and his eyes widen as if realizing what he’d done.

“oh, we don’t need —”

“we’re not —”

you and luke both stumble over your words; thalia just smiles knowingly. 

“i’m gonna go flirt with that nymph,” she announces, pointing across the grand marble pavilion.

“i thought — doesn’t artemis sort of frown upon that sort of thing?” you ask.

“she makes exceptions on holidays. besides, i’m her favourite. you guys have fun.” thalia winks at you and walks away.

you glance at luke and, gods, there’s so much history between you. 

the time you jumped into an ocean full of sirens to save luke from drowning? you have a scar running down your forearm where one of them scratched you as you struggled to get luke towards the surface. 

or when you took turns holding up the sky while on a quest to save lady artemis and defeat the titan atlas? it’s evident in the matching streaks of grey that you each have running through your hair. whenever you see your reflection in the mirror, you remember how you couldn’t save your cousin bianca di angelo earlier that day, and how nico has had to grow up without a sister because of a promise you broke.

how about when you, luke, and one of your best friends were sent on a mission to destroy the princess andromeda, the headquarters of kronos’ army? only the two of you survived, and sometimes you can still feel luke squeezing your hand pike he did during charles beckendorf’s burial shroud ceremony while you both cried.

or when luke took a sword between the ribs for you because he, somehow, knew the one spot the curse of achilles left you vulnerable? he can only slouch for so long before the bones there start to ache.

so, yeah. there’s way too much history, and so many tangled threads, and now really isn’t an ideal time to unravel it all. 

“i’m gonna go find my dad,” you blurt out and disappear into the crowd with no real intention of finding your father. 

the once sweet apple now tastes rotten on your tongue; you rid yourself of it in exchange for some more wine. you’re determined to have fun — no pain or heartache or grief. 

you’ve all had enough of that for three lifetimes. 

summer — age 14

“sorry your birthday was ruined.” 

luke exhaled sharply when you pressed a disinfectant-soaked cloth to the wound on his leg.

“hold still,” was all you mumbled in response, brows knitted together as you wrapped the cut in gauze. 

once you were done with his leg, you moved on to luke’s hands, burned by poisonous acid. the four of you had run into a hydra earlier that night. you managed to wound it enough so you could all get away, but not before a few injuries were sustained. 

you were uncharacteristically quiet as you worked. you only met luke’s gaze to warn him before pouring some nectar on his wounds. you let luke hold your hand, tightly, as the liquid dripped through his fingers and down to yours, first right, then left. the pain was instant, seering almost as much as the hydra acid, but it was over quickly. the last thing you did was bandage each hand before getting up. 

“i’m…i’m gonna check on thalia and annabeth. i’ll take first watch.”

luke caught your hand before you got away.

“wait. you’re bleeding.” he pointed to the cut on your brow. you had been so preoccupied in making sure everyone else was safe that you let crimson liquid drip down your face. it probably stung, too, based on your grimace.

luke wiped away the blood with his sleeve, used nectar to disinfect the wound, and dressed it with a fresh bandage, working silently as you did.

“it’s still your birthday,” luke finally said once he was done. “you get some rest; i’ll take first watch.”

you gave him a small, strained smile before checking on the others. 

later that night, you stayed up with luke anyways. 

seemingly out of nowhere, you handed him your portable cassette player. luke stared at it for a moment, unwilling to comprehend just what you were offering and, more importantly, why. 

you and luke had grown accustomed to sharing things: flannels, socks, makeshift beds and scavenged food. but this —

it was your aunt’s. 

you never met your mother, who’d left you as a baby, and of course, poseidon was too busy tending to his underwater kingdom to step in as a parent. your aunt raised you as her own. and then you lost her, too. 

you kept her cassette player buried deep in your bag with some mixtapes she had made and ones you’d stolen throughout the years. when it wasn’t your turn to keep watch, luke would sometimes catch you with headphones on, looking up at the stars. 

luke liked to think he knew you well; all those subtle elements that made you — the crack of your knuckles, the cadence of your voice, the slope of your nose, the dreams of your childhood. engraved in his own personhood. bones and all. 

and, still: he didn’t know you, not entirely. 

you’d only allowed luke to listen with you once, maybe twice. he’d never forget what it was like: knees pressed together and heads just as close to keep the wires from stretching too far; you gushing about the magic of jimi hendrix, recounting memories that echoed through gentle guitar riffs; luke yearning for one more song to play, for another a wistful smile of yours to appear. luke, wishing to linger in your private oasis a beat longer before you pushed him out again and closed the door behind him. 

the one lock luke couldn’t crack: your grief, and how you carried on so buoyantly despite its weight.

well, there you were, presenting the key to luke as an offering. a sacrifice for something luke would never ask of you. 

“this….” luke swallowed the lump in his throat, refusing to look at you. he turned the device over in his bandaged hands, the metal smooth, though well-worn. “you can’t just —”

leave. you can’t just leave. you can’t just —

“hey.” 

your hand over his, forcing him to stop spiralling and look at you. 

right away, luke regretted it. a small sliver of him, however delusional, had hoped that you were joking. 

you weren’t. behind you, there was an empty space where you had previously wedged your sleeping bag. your backpack was already strapped around your shoulders, fully packed. 

“i need to leave, luke. we can’t stay together. it’s too dangerous.”

“you don’t need to —”

“there’s more of us, now,” you interrupted, pulling your hand away to rest on your thigh. “four demigods together isn’t ideal. we’ve been attracting more monsters. more deadly monsters.”

“that would happen, anyways. it always has whether it’s the four of us, the two of us, or….” 

luke stopped his sentence short, not even wanting to give you the idea to go out on your own, even though you’d probably been thinking about leaving for some time. 

you made reckless decisions sometimes, but this didn’t seem to be one of them.

“well, it’s happening more.” your voice was steady, too steady. luke imagined you rehearsing just what to say to counter the inevitable backlash. 

luke shook his head. “i’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“you almost died because of me,” you clipped. you lifted a hand to touch the bruise on luke’s jaw, but let it drop just as quickly. “you know that children of the big three cause more trouble. maybe we managed it when it was the two of us, but now, there’s more to consider. a child of poseidon and a child of zeus, travelling together. it’s like we’re asking to be killed. it’s too dangerous.”

“that’s our life,” luke snapped. “you can’t just run from it.” from us.

you faltered, looking back to where annabeth and thalia were sleeping peacefully. 

oh. he must have said that last part out loud, too. 

“you know i’m right,” is all you said.

luke could only shake his head again. because, fine, you weren’t entirely wrong. it was more dangerous — but it was danger luke hoped you’d all face, together. 

“i’ve made up my mind,” you added, an anchor in the sand.

“don’t leave.” luke’s words came out as a prayer. if he offered something, maybe you’d stay.

you paused to take a shaky breath. “this isn’t goodbye, luke. i swear to poseidon…fuck, i swear to all the gods that this isn’t goodbye.”

luke couldn’t speak. there were tears bubbling in his throat, threatening to spill. 

“so, keep this for me,” you whispered, once again placing your hand on top of luke’s. his fingers gripped your cassette player tightly, like it was the only piece of driftwood leftover from a shipwreck, keeping him from sinking into the cold, dark nothing. “you’ll give it back when we see each other again.”

a promise. 

“fine,” luke conceded, though he wanted to scream at you. he wanted to argue like little kids — petty, loud, meaningless, back and forth until tears streamed down cheeks and throats were raw. 

but, you were leaving, one way or another. luke didn’t want this shared memory to be tainted if it might be your last.

“you have to take this, then. give it back when we see each other again.”

luke removed the chain from around his neck, the one that held the key to his childhood home. he placed it around yours, instead.

he didn’t need the key now, but his mother had given it to him when he was six. before he knew what it meant to be the son of hermes, god of thieves. 

call him sentimental, but luke had kept it. just in case he ever got lost. 

“if you’re ever back in connecticut, you have a home.”

“yeah, okay.” you smiled softly. 

it fell just as quickly. 

“take care of them,” you told him. “of yourself, too. i’ll see you again when it’s safe.”

luke didn’t ask when it would be safe, because the truth is that it might never be.

“because you want your cassette player back?” luke joked, instead trying to lighten the mood, to capture one last moment of brightness.

you laughed softly to not wake the others. 

“yeah. that too.”

you pressed your forehead to his, something you hadn’t done since you were kids. 

“i’ll see you again,” you repeated.

without another word, you got up and jogged away. luke shut his eyes, refusing to see you become nothing but a shadow. 

(you looked back several times, but he couldn’t see through the darkness.)

now

call the gods out on their bullshit (you encourage it), but if they have one thing going for them, it’s that the olympians know how to throw a party. 

the night grows darker, yet somehow becomes more lively. demeter and persephone had supplied a generous amount of fresh, decadent fruit, and dionysus an even more generous amount of wine. apollo starts a karaoke corner and you’re just tipsy enough to agree to sing a duet with him in order to break the ice. apparently, he’s a big midnight sirens fan and had seen your band when you headlined at glastonbury festival. you smile to yourself, imagining your bandmates’ faces if you told them that the god of music had watched you perform.

as you hand the microphone to a giggling dryad, the sound of your name washes over like gentle waves on a shore.

“if it isn’t my sweet, summer child!” your father brings you in for a hug and an ocean breeze engulfs you — salt and sand and sun. 

“hi dad,” you exhale as you pull away. 

you hadn’t seen each other in a while, but poseidon looks the same. he’s dressed in a turquoise hawaiian shirt and birkenstocks with a crown of seashells on his head. there’s a cocktail umbrella in his glass, a slice of pineapple wedged onto the rim. you’re about to ask him how he managed to secure a pina colada and where you might find one, too.

“that was quite the performance!” poseidon takes an eager sip of his drink, green eyes sparkling like sea glass in the sun. “i must tell you: your newest album is all the rage in atlantis. the nereids and merpeople can’t seem to get enough of it and, truthfully, i find myself playing it on repeat as well. you’re quite talented.” 

you try not to let your shock slip through, instead smiling and asking how things are in his underwater kingdom, but you’re….touched at your father’s unexpected praise.

the gods aren’t perfect, and your father is no exception. they’re divine beings who have time to conceive children, but not to raise them. there’s a long history of them abandoning, mistreating, and manipulating their own offspring. of course, being the prophecy child, it became practically impossible for your father to ignore you; you’re sure that being dubbed the saviour of olympus gives him bragging rights with his immortal family. even with their sworn promise to change, it’s impossible not to resent the gods in some ways. 

still, you feel comforted by your father's presence at times — when you catch the perfect wave on your surfboard, for example, or when you sit on your fire escape during a storm after a bad day. it’s been like that pretty much all your life: poseidon there in spirit, not in practice. despite everything, he’s watched over you, and percy, throughout the years.

and here poseidon is now, grinning at you like you’re his pride and joy. 

“enough about aquatic politics.” he pats your shoulder enthusiastically after telling you about the struggles of keeping humans from overfishing. “i came over to wish you a happy birthday. and to give you this.” 

poseidon reaches into the pocket of his shirt and hands you something you’d long thought gone: a leather cord with several clay beads and a silver key.

“i found it off the california coast,” he explains. “i kept meaning to get it to you, but i suppose time has a way of getting away from us, immortal or not.”

a warmth grows in your chest as you run your thumb over your old camp necklace, bright and full. it had fallen off one day when you’d gone surfing, and you assumed it was lost to the ocean. you'd been given a fresh leather cord when you arrived at camp earlier this summer, but it felt empty. hollow.

“thanks, dad.” 

you smile at him as you put on the necklace; it feels like coming home. your father then asks you about your summer so far.

you tell him all about your life as of late, until you catch a glimpse of luke with van on a marble bench at the other end of the pavilion. van is sitting in luke’s lap, and they lean over to whisper something in his ear before kissing his cheek. 

you freeze mid-way through your sentence.

sensing the shift in mood, poseidon frowns. he turns his head to follow your gaze.

“ah.” poseidon turns back to you and clears his throat. “now, i don’t mean to pry, but i saw you earlier with the castellan boy.”

you flush at the fact that your moment with luke was witnessed by your own father. “dad —”

“did you know in ancient greece, throwing someone an apple and having them catch it is considered a marriage proposal?”

“i’m pretty sure that was disproven,” you scoff.

poseidon raises an eyebrow at you, clearly amused. “which one of us was actually there, hm?” and though you roll your eyes, you can’t argue with that. “i just wanted to know if there was a wedding happening in the near future.”

you almost choke on the last remnants of your wine. “dad.”

“i’m kidding. i’m kidding! mr. castellan seems otherwise occupied.” 

“yeah, it does seem that way,” you grumble.

poseidon puts a hand on your shoulder, firm but reassuring. “regardless: if you find someone who would go to tartarus and back with you, someone who would fight alongside you every step of the way, you hold on to them. there’s only so much time you mortals have on this earth.”

you sigh — easier said than done — but your father is trying, so you manage a nod.

“i’ll keep that in mind.”

“now, i better go — ” poseidon looks over your shoulder, where the air behind you starts to feel staticky. “it seems a disagreement is brewing between zeus and hades. they always get into it whenever dionysus makes the wine a bit too strong. brother, put away the lightning bolt —” and he rushes away to prevent another divine conflict from arising.

left to your own devices, you venture over to the food table, finding an array of fresh and dried fruit, breads, cured meat, fresh oysters and, of course, more wine. you grab a goblet and a few dried figs.

“careful, i heard dionysus made the wine extra strong tonight,” someone warns, creeping up beside you. the voice is soft and alluring, and you feel something tug at your heart. 

you do a double take when you turn to them; the person is devilishly handsome, a golden aura paired with a golden smile. 

(you will soon find out that the god flirting with you is the son of ares and aphrodite, the latter of which takes the appearance of whoever the onlooker loves. as it turns out, her son appears in the same way. 

all this to say: it doesn’t mean anything that this god looks like luke castellan to you. 

it doesn’t mean anything at all.)

“i’m eros.”

“hey. i’m —”

“i know who you are, savior of olympus.” eros winks at you. “i just never realized you were so beautiful.”

your cheeks heat up as you take a sip of your drink.

oh, shit. 

okay. the literal god of desire and pleasure is flirting with you. 

you’re flattered, really, and maybe the wine has gotten to your head, but you’re not eager to turn him away.

“well, i’ve definitely heard about you, and the rumors do not do you justice,” you quip, painting on a flirtatious smile.

eros puffs out his chest, clearly pleased. 

over the next few minutes, you decide that eros can hold a decent conversation, asking you the classic first date questions about your likes and dislikes, and he’s cute enough that you wouldn’t mind things going further. 

(he might be a god, but he’s no luke. you push that thought away, and force yourself to flirt with helios. eros. right, eros.)

eros leans in close, pretends to listen to you, lets his gaze drop every so often to the deep v-neck of your shirt.  

“no way! 13 going on 30 is a classic,” you argue. you nudge your shoulder into eros’s playfully, and let the contact between you linger. eros, the inspiration for cupid himself, has angel wings, and you feel them brush softly against your burning skin. 

“it’s totally overrated!” eros exclaims. “also, the childhood friends to lovers trope gives people false hope.”

“it’s not false hope. it’s about the buildup to their happily ever after,” you reason, swallowing some wine to dislodge the lump in your throat.

eros shakes his head. “trust me, baby, it’s all about the instant attraction. that’s where the excitement is.” 

he’s so close now, you can smell the sharp alcohol on his breath. not wine, but something stronger.

“oh? what do you mean by that?” you lean impossibly closer, trailing a finger down his chest.

eros smirks, placing a hand on your thigh. “want me to demonstrate?” 

not even a second after you whisper a yes, eros crashes his lips onto yours, and you will yourself to kiss back. he slides his tongue in your mouth, runs his hands over your body. 

you’re making out with the god of desire and passion, so, objectively, it’s a good first kiss: soft around the edges and firm where it needs to be.

sure — you feel nothing, no real spark, but it’s almost enough to fill the hole in your heart in the shape of a certain son of hermes. 

the son of hermes who has moved on and is in a loving relationship with a perfect emotionally available partner. 

so, it’s fine. 

this, this thing with eros, is fine. 

you’re fine.

eros pulls away first, but keeps a hand on your cheek.

“let's get out of here.” 

he grabs your wrist before you have a chance to answer. you stand up, let him weave you through the crowd towards the stairs of the pavilion. apparently, his room is just through the garden. 

as he tugs you along, he looks back at you, smiling. under the glow of the stars, eros looks just like luke, except it’s becoming harder to ignore that he isn’t luke and that makes you feel all sorts of nauseous. your camp necklace weighs on your chest and, in particular, the silver key that you’d kept for all those years burns through your skin. 

lightheaded, you pull away from eros’ grip just as you reach the top of the stairs and place a hand on the column next to you to steady yourself.

eros turns around sharply. “what is it?”

“i changed my mind, actually. let’s just…keep talking here.”

eros grabs your wrist again, his grip tighter than before. “don’t be a tease.” his tone is ever-so-gentle, but there’s an edge behind his words. 

this time, your voice comes out more assertive. “i just changed my mind. that doesn’t make me a tease.”

“come on, baby, don’t you wanna experience what real passion is? this is a once in a lifetime opportunity that a million girls would kill for. you’d be an idiot to pass it up.” he brags, and you’re this close to breaking this guy’s nose, god or not. 

“i don’t care,” you snap, struggling to break free from his grip. “and i’m not your baby.”

“okay, whatever,” eros rolls his eyes, but quickly plasters on an arrogant grin. “we’ll go somewhere private and i’ll call you whatever you want.”

he manages to drag you down two steps as you strain against his iron grip, now almost cutting off your circulation. your heartbeat quickens and you feel dizzy. finally, you grab onto the railing for leverage and use your strength to rip out of his grip, forcing eros to stop in his tracks.

“what is it now?” he snaps, whipping his head around once more. 

he looks nothing like luke, now.

“just stop, eros.”

“listen,” he starts, speaking to you almost mockingly, like you’re a naive little kid. so much for being the savior of olympus. “trust me, i know what people want, so you don’t have to be shy. i promise to be the best you’ve ever had —”

“eros, is it?” the rest of the party is in full motion, but here’s percy, giving eros one of the most intense death stares you’ve ever seen. percy, your little brother who talks to lonely fish at the aquarium; who, if you cut open, would bleed blue m&m’s; who would never let anyone, god or otherwise, hurt someone he loves. “i’m gonna have to ask you to let go of my sister.”

“mind your own business, kid,” eros hisses. “we’re kinda in the middle of something.” he tries to move you down another step, but you stand your ground.

annabeth, no longer the scared little seven year old you, luke, and thalia found behind a dumpster, is also glaring at liam from the top of the stairs. one of her hands rests firmly on her belt, where she keeps her dagger. 

“i’d back off, if i were you,” she warns. “wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”

“just mind your own business,” eros snarls.

“they said leave her alone,” thalia asserts, walking over once she sees what’s happening. “and you don’t wanna mess with us, trust me.” she clenches her hand into a fist.

“who the fuck are you? her bodyguards?” 

“just let her go,” percy orders. “my sister can do a lot better than a minor god with a major god complex.” 

eros growls, baring his teeth at percy. “you impertinent little shit.”

as soon as eros lunges for your brother, you tug one of his wings towards you, hard. he whips around and you take the opportunity to punch him in the face. he doubles over, golden ichor gushing from his nose.

“i’d be careful if i were you, baby,” you seethe. “you wouldn’t want to go up against the demigods who led an army against kronos and won. unless, of course, humiliation is a kink of yours.” you laugh humorlessly at the way eros scowls at your words. “to each their own,” you continue. “but i’m not in the mood to fuck an entitled creep with angel wings to compensate for his tiny dick. you better fucking respect that, and leave us alone while you’re at it.”

eros’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only entitled, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a few blows to their ego. 

call it stupidity or arrogance, but his only response is a punch delivered right back to your face. 

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but percy manages to reach out and catch you before you fall down the stairs. he holds you as thalia and annabeth create a barrier between you and eros. you hear them shouting at eros over the music, but their exact words don’t register.

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is suddenly all fuzzy. percy tries his best, but you slump your body weight into his and he almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” luke’s calm and measured voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you. “from what i remember, you were too much of a coward to even step foot on the battlefield, so i’d listen to her if you know what’s good for you.” in a haze, you guess that luke is directing his sharp words towards eros, before turning to the others and instructing: “you guys take care of this — find clarisse if you need back up.”

somehow, you find yourself over in a small secluded temple, sitting on a window bench overlooking the clouds as luke sits next to you.

like most of olympus, the building is made of marble with gold accents; this one has roses engraved on the walls, and the space smells like flowery perfume. it’s much quieter than the pavilion, though you can hear laughter and music in the distance. it’s cooler, too, but not by much; even without all the body heat, you're left with sticky summer air, and luke’s breath on yours, sweet with wine and ripe fruit, as he carefully examines your injury.

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the alcohol, or the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while — probably a dangerous mix of all three. 

you know (from trying not to but ultimately not being able to pull your attention away from him after all) that he’s had a few drinks as well; it seems like the two of you ignore each other best when you’re sober.

“thought the curse of achilles would protect you from nosebleeds.”

“guess it doesn’t protect against —” what did percy call eros? “ — minor gods who have major god complexes,” you recite.

luke looks slightly amused. “that’s a shame,” he hums. “would have been nice to get one birthday without being injured.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the dull ache from your nose.

“you remembered.”

“of course i remember,” luke almost scoffs like the mere suggestion of forgetting what day you were born is an insult to his very character. he meets your gaze, and you could melt when he offers you that lopsided smile of his, painfully familiar. “happy birthday, aquagirl,” and it’s the softest he’s spoken to you in a while. just like old times.

he remembers. 

somewhere within him, luke holds on to fragments of you.

he wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of his silk white button-down now stained crimson. “how’s your hand?” he asks. 

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

“i guess all those years away didn’t change anything. still willing to put a god in their place, huh?”

all those years away. 

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart, and you’re worried that it might burst the comfortable bubble you and luke had drunkenly stumbled into. 

thankfully, luke continues:

“the kids really take after you.”

he says as a joke, mostly, but there’s a sincerity in those deep brown eyes of his, too. something you also hadn’t seen from him in a while. 

the kids, who you’d in some ways raised together when monsters were trying to kill you and the gods didn’t care enough to stop it. 

the family you and luke had built together despite being born into the world of greek tragedies. 

“as if annabeth wasn’t threatening to pull the dagger you gave her, skywalker,” the nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. “besides, they’re not kids anymore.”

“yeah.” he pauses. “neither are we.” 

luke’s fingers trace your camp necklace, brush against your collarbone. the breath hitches in your throat.

here you are again, at the edge of something real and very scary, and you fear luke is going to push the two of you over. 

but he doesn’t. instead, luke suggests, jokingly: “maybe we should start a fight club at camp.” 

you take that as a good sign: like you, he’s hoping to preserve the playfulness between you before everything else seeps in and ruins it. before you’re brought back to the present, where you’re practically ignoring each other.

where you’re fine, but really. 

you snort. “chiron and mr. d would love that.”

“like they’d ever find out!” luke explains. “you know the first rule of fight club —”

“don’t talk about fight club,” you finish together. 

luke laughs, even though it’s not that funny. you laugh, too. 

and that’s the thing that really, truly gets you. 

try as you might to ignore it, some days it’s hard to forget the pain and heartache and grief. 

you still feel like your life is a battlefield; you still see the ghosts of everyone you couldn’t save even though people call you a savior; you still have those scars, inside and out, that seemed healed but ache every once and a while. 

but that isn’t all. 

sometimes it hurts more thinking back to the good times and knowing, deep down, you can never go back.

summer — age 13

“ugh — you think with all their power, the gods could help stop global warming,” you groaned, swatting away a mosquito that tried to land on you. “do you think they have air conditioning on olympus?”

“oh, for sure,” luke quipped. he gave you a lopsided smile, his curls sticking to his forehead, drenched in sweat. 

it was the summer solstice, the longest and the hottest day of the year so far. the two of you had found a perfectly good hideout, but luke insisted that this place would be worth the move. 

he’d been leading you down side streets for what felt like forever. the sun had already set, and you were very close to passing out from the heat, until luke finally stopped at a door behind an alley, with a sign reading CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS. 

luke knelt down to do whatever son-of-hermes lock magic he had to do to get the door open. he flipped a switch, and you winced at the sudden overwhelming brightness. 

the destination was different than the hideouts you usually sprung for: those small, hole-in-the-wall type places. instead, this space was big and bright, filled with arcade games and fun posters and neon colours. the type of place a kid might have a party or where a group of normal teenagers might spend their friday night. 

“what…what is this?”

“you thought i forgot, didn’t you?” luke smirked at you. he sat down on the colourful carpet, taking out some snacks, a small plastic bag with coins, a wrapped box, and a plastic blue crown, and gestured for you to join.

you did, in fact, think that luke had forgotten your birthday. 

birthdays were bittersweet for children of gods, who were constantly reminded that any year could be their last, their youth cut short by monsters or prophecies or a fatal flaw. all the two of you usually did on either birthday was split any sweet treat you could get your hands on. 

it wasn’t a big deal, really, to skip that tradition of yours. there were much more urgent things to worry about, like finding food and water and shelter, and not being devoured by monsters. 

you did think it was strange that luke hadn’t so much as said happy birthday to you all day, but you knew that he loved you.

(like a friend loves a friend. nothing else, no matter how much your stomach fluttered at the thought of him.) 

“i wanted to surprise you,” luke explained once you claimed your spot next to him. he reached over to place the crown on your head. “i found this place a few days ago during a food run. it reminds me of where we had your —”

“eighth birthday party, yeah.” you smiled at the memory of running around and feeding quarters to every machine and trying every game, of your classmates singing happy birthday to you off-key before you all stuffed your faces with sickly sweet confetti cake. 

truthfully, you never thought about having another celebration like that again.

but, it was five years from that faded childhood memory, and luke was presenting you with something you didn’t even realize you had needed: the chance to be a kid again.

“so,” luke got up, a wide smile on his face. he held the plastic bag in one hand, extending the other to you. “which do you wanna play first?”

you started with space invaders, then moved on to dragon’s lair and pac-man. you took a break before street fighter ii so that luke could ceremoniously light a candle and present a cupcake that had been tossed around in his bag (but you were still very, very grateful for), along with fresh batteries for your portable cassette player. he had made you a mixtape too, though you couldn’t figure out how. 

your last stop was a photobooth. you vowed to keep those pictures — a collection of you and luke together, smiling bright and colourful, goofing off and laughing — for the rest of your life.

now

those moments from past summers are like popsicles melting in the sun: tangible for a limited time before leaving you with a sickly sweet mess of what once was. 

you think about what happened earlier, how percy, annabeth, and thalia stepped in to protect you, still the brave kids you had once known so well. how luke is here with you now, taking care of you so tenderly even after you’ve silently agreed to give each other the cold shoulder. 

maybe luke is right. maybe all those years away didn’t change anything. 

except — once you leave this temple and the alcohol leaves your system, it won’t be the same. 

none of you are kids anymore, if you ever even were. 

“why’d you go for eros, anyway?” luke asks, breaking you away from your thoughts. he removes his sleeve from your nose since the bleeding seems to have finally stopped.

“you really wanna know?”

“yeah. most gods are assholes. and you’re…” luke places a hand close to your leg, pinky finger brushing your thigh. “you.”

“i went for eros because….well, honestly, i don’t think i cared who it was, as long as they made me forget you,” you admit, because what did you have to lose. you probably have a broken nose, you definitely have blood on your shirt, and your time with luke is running out. 

luke’s eyes darken. his fingers start to play with the hem of your shorts. 

“did it work?” his voice is a whisper, but he’s close enough that he’s crystal clear.

“no.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on luke’s — messy and urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. he cradles your face in his hands, and you move to straddle his waist. you taste wine on his tongue, and maybe a hint of sweet pears, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the alcohol or adrenaline, but dizzy from him. luke’s gaze is heavy on yours as he traces your top lip with his thumb.

“luke,” you whimper, itching to kiss him again. 

“you’re still bleeding.”

luke wipes away the blood with his thumb. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s an echo of footsteps on the marble floor. a flower nymph, there to leave an offering and let you know that, while aphrodite encourages acts of love, she prefers it doesn’t happen in her place of worship. 

you realize that aphrodite also might not look so fondly at you kissing someone else in her place of worship after publicly rebuking her own son.

luke untangles himself from you, and you know that he’s been jolted back to reality, too. 

and, just like that, another moment has melted away.

your father was right. time has a way of slipping away for us, immortal or not.

summer — age 18

“hey, you awake?”  

“yeah,” you replied softly. sleep hadn’t been easy, in the days and weeks and months leading up to that final battle with kronos and his army. 

and once it was all over? 

you rested your head on luke’s shoulder, sword discarded at your feet and armour half-removed, as argus, the hundred-eyed security guard of olympus, drove a school bus with a dozen or so demigods back to camp.

“why’d you turn down their offer?” luke whispered.

oh.

"why...why do you ask?"

"i don't know." luke paused. "just curious, i guess."

you closed your eyes and replayed that moment on olympus when you refused the gift of immortality. the look of shock written on the gods’ faces. and on luke’s.

“i don’t care about living forever,” you told him bluntly.

forever seemed too long, especially for someone who was prophesied to die at 18.

you tilted your head up to meet luke’s gaze, and his messy curls brushed against your forehead. evidence of the battle was clear on his face: caked-on dirt and blossoming bruises and dried blood. 

behind him, outside the bus window, the world was flying by. a child who had fallen off their bike being comforted by a friend. two people sharing an mp3 player and a pair of earbuds. an elderly couple walking their dog.

“you once told me that this was our life,” you continued, gesturing towards the weapons and battle-worn kids, some quiet, others crying, many injured. “what if it didn’t have to be?” 

luke furrowed his brow. “do you mean….are you talking about leaving?”

you shrugged. running from monsters for your entire childhood then being the child of the great prophecy was a lot.

a break might be nice.

there was so much about the world, the one you’d fought and bled to protect, that you wanted to experience. 

maybe something closer to a normal life.

“would you ever leave camp?” you wondered, not really answering luke's question. 

“no,” luke replied instantly. his fingers started fiddling with the beads on his necklace. “i can’t just walk away, not after everything.”

“yeah, i get that.” and you did; you really, truly, did. the guilt of wanting to leave camp curled in your stomach like a venomous snake. you took a shaky breath. “let’s talk about this later, yeah? i’m tired, and we have the rest of — ”

the rest of the summer slipped away in the blink of an eye. gone, before you even had a real chance to say goodbye.

you closed your eyes and held on to luke, as if gripping his arm would anchor you to something you weren't ready to let go of, but in some ways needed to move on from.

it was no use, though. 

by the end of august, you’d be gone too. 

now 

you learned early on that the curse of achilles doesn’t protect you from hangovers.

you wake up the morning after the celebration on olympus with a deep, throbbing pain lodged in your temple and an uncomfortable swirling in your gut. parties and late nights at bars are common on tour, which means migraines are, too, so you have a routine to make sure you’re not out of commission for too long.

except this time, the aspirin and blue gatorade and dry toast don’t work. the sting in your brain and uneasiness in your stomach doesn’t go away, even after a few days. you haven’t been able to sleep, either.

desperate for a cure, you consult lou ellen, head counsellor of the hecate cabin, who you’d unexpectedly grown close to in the past few weeks. she mixes something for you, while asking if there’s something that’s been weighing on you.

you couldn't keep it in anymore; you tell her about the summer solstice and luke.  

later, with nothing but your thoughts and percy’s snoring occupying your time post-curfew, you grab your phone and flip it open, deciding to finally reach out to luke, when you get a text from him.

luke is already on the beach when you arrive, looking out onto the water. 

“hey,” you greet as you sit next to him on the sand, but not too close. “i was actually about to text you —”

“did you tell anyone that we kissed?” he interrupts. you can’t quite read his expression as he waits for you to answer.

“no, i didn’t,” you lie. “would it matter if i did?”

“well, i mean, word travels fast around camp, and i don’t want van finding out. it’s not like it meant anything.”

the throbbing in your brain becomes a sharper sting, the uneasiness in your stomach a tidal wave of nausea.

“it didn’t?” you hate how fragile your voice sounds, compared to luke’s stoic demeanor.

luke shrugs. “i mean, we were both drunk and the thing with eros happened…we just got caught up in the heat of the moment.” 

“you’re saying there’s nothing between us, then? nothing?” the word tastes bitter in your mouth.

luke turns away before he answers. “no. nothing.”

“then what about last summer?” you demand. you force yourself to keep it together, your tone firmer than before. “i guess that didn’t mean anything, either.”

“y/n…” he sighs. “i don’t know what you want me to say. we’re barely even friends anymore. you come back here, after all this time, after so much shit happened, and expect us all to drop everything to fit you back into our lives. but, you don't. whatever you came here for, it's not here for you. there's nothing to go back to. we moved on. i moved on, and i can’t deal with you —" 

“got it,” you snap, already turning to walk away. “loud and fucking clear, luke.” 

it’s not like it meant anything. we’re barely even friends anymore.

you replay luke’s words as you crawl into bed, holding back tears so as to not disturb percy. finally, you swallow a generous amount of whatever concoction lou ellen had brewed up for you.

drifting off into your own sleep, you decide that you don’t love luke anymore. not as a friend, not as a.....

nope. 

according to luke, there's not even anything to go back to.

nothing.

nothing.

[nataliasquote]

Midas Touch | n romanoff

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: no amount of money will ever save a broken marriage or a broken woman. But maybe the right person can turn everything she touches into gold and this time won’t be cursed to break everything she cares about.

Warnings: affair, cheating wife, forbidden love, small mention of physical abuse (a slap)

Pairings: maid!Natasha x wife!reader

wc: 7.1k 😬

Note: another AU? Why are we even surprised. But this idea fully goes to @katyaromanoffpetrova who does just fuel my need to write every AU possible. If you thought cowgirl Nat was hot… oh just you wait. Also the end got angsty, but you should learn to expect that with me now..

-⧗-

Being up before the sun wasn’t anything Natasha wasn’t used to. Even before she got this job, mornings were her favourite. The way the world looked when it was kissed by the watery sun that rose above the rooftops hours before anyone was awake to see it was one of life’s hidden gems.

And one of the many perks of being a live-in maid to one of the richest men in the America was the views from every window in the staggering mansion. The west side of the house overlooked the bustling city below, which was beautiful at night. But Natasha’s favourite was the east wing that revealed rolling countryside and the perfect place to watch the sunrise over the distant hills.

Her maid duties never started this early, but she didn’t mind being awake. It gave her a sense of peace before the mania of the day began. She wasn’t the only maid in the Barnes residence, but her task was slightly different than everyone else’s. She was Y/n Barnes’ maid and that in itself came with a whole host of other challenges.

Seven am was when her ‘day’ started, for the lady of the house was not an early riser. She usually wouldn’t be seen out of bed until at least nine, but on the days James left for work early, she would always see him off from the front door. And wherever Y/n was, Natasha was never far behind, lurking in the background with her hands clasped in front.

Y/n’s laugh was the first thing Natasha heard of her boss, before she was even seen. Her voice oozed wealth and that laugh practically dripped honey and diamonds as it echoed through the high ceilings of the stairwell. With her arm draped over her husband’s bicep, Y/n lingered on the last step, teasingly trying to tower over James’ muscular frame as he shrugged his suit jacket on.

He muttered something in her ear and Natasha watched as Y/n’s neutral expression suddenly switched to a cunning smile and her fingers fumbled with the small tie holding her feathered robe closed. The front fell open, revealing her nightwear beneath it and it was not hard to see the way James’ eyes fell to his wife’s cleavage for a couple of seconds.

These small moments cemented why they were the nation’s favourite couple, and also why Vogue was so insistent on featuring them on the cover. They were still so lovesick yet utterly perfect in a way that didn’t happen by chance. This level of perfection was almost nauseating.

Y/n stepped down off the bottom stair and looked up at James through her lashes, playing the innocent game despite being anything but.

“Goodbye, my love. Try not to murder anyone today,” she husked in her husband’s ear, draping her arms around his neck with a lazy smile. James’ hand fell to the small of her back and he pulled her into him, kissing her lips hastily.

“No promises. Be good.” Y/n was on her tip toes but hardly felt the coolness of the stone floor on her bare feet. She leaned her face into Bucky’s palm that had risen up to cup her cheek. Soft fingers straightened out the lapels of his pristine suit jacket almost habitually.

“No promises,” she mimicked with a smirk, her eyes sparkling playful up at her husband who was transfixed by her sultry gaze. She was truly a siren, luring him in with a simple glance and a smile. Her power didn’t come from her social status; it came from her. The kind that couldn’t be earned or bought, no matter how much money you had.

With another lingering kiss, James pulled away and reached for the drawer of car keys and selected from the collection of sports cars most could only fantasise about. His dark grey McLaren Senna was today’s pick and he tossed the key in his palm like it wasn’t part of a car costing close to a million dollars. His wealth really was astonishing.

Y/n watched him disappear out of the heavy iron front doors and pulled her robe tighter around her body, concealing the simple navy blue silk slip dress that hung delicately from her shoulders. Her robe matched in colour, of course, and the feathers adorning the trim and cuffs swayed as she wandered into the vast kitchen.

She was the typical rich housewife, but it didn’t look tacky on her. She suited this life. Her wrists, neck and fingers might as well have been crafted to be decked out in priceless jewels, her body to wear only the finest garments. Even just the way she moved oozed grace and elegance subconsciously. A sight for sore eyes.

“Natasha,” she called, knowing the redhead was only a few steps behind her. “I’d like my breakfast on the balcony today please.”

“Yes ma’am,” Natasha replied with a small nod of her head.

“Oh, and don’t bother bringing any of that apricot jam you brought yesterday. I only want strawberry, darling. Only strawberry.” She swept back out of the room in a flash of blue and Natasha scurried down to the kitchen to inform the chef.

Now, if it was anyone else, that pet name probably would have sent them reeling. But Y/n was extremely fond of using those names, so it was basically second nature to Natasha.

The breakfast tray was laden with food and beverages as Natasha brought it out onto the balcony. Y/n was relaxing in a chair, still in her nightwear and robe as she scowled over the newspaper in her hand.

“You know, I do find these world affairs awfully boring.” Y/n didn’t bother looking up from her newspaper as Natasha appeared with the tray. She frowned at the column she was reading before folding it away on the table. “I don’t suppose you read that kind of thing anyway.”

Natasha carefully set the coffee pot down on the table. “I try to keep up with what’s going on in the world. But not as often as I’d like.”

“Do you read the paper?”

“No, Ma’am.”

Y/n hummed. “You can have this one if you want. I don’t care for it and James only complains about the headlines. You’d make much better use of it, honey.”

“Thank you, Ma’am. I really appreciate it.”

“Natasha stop,” Y/n held her hand up, making Natasha freeze mid pour. “I’ve told you to call me Y/n. All this ‘ma’am is making me feel old!” Y/n sighed dramatically, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair. “I’m not even thirty yet, don’t make me age faster.”

“I’m sorry, Ma-,” she faltered but caught herself quickly, “Y/n, it’s a force of habit.” It wasn’t so much of a habit than it just felt weird to say. This first name basis insinuated they were friends, not two people on drastically different pay grades.

“Well, luckily for you, habits were made to be broken.” There was a heavy intonation in her words, laced with hidden meaning but Natasha just busied herself with setting up the breakfast platter. Various fruits and pastries were laid out, despite Y/n always just picking at a few berries and a croissant. Natasha hung back near the french doors, admiring the scenery so she didn’t watch her boss as she ate.

Y/n slid her sunglasses back onto her nose and stood up to lean over the balcony, the gentle breeze blowing her open robe softly. “Did that package arrive yet? The one from the lingerie company?”

“Yes, it’s in your dressing room.”

“Perfect,” Y/n hummed, her eyes sparkling behind tinted lenses. “I’m going to go try it all on, I think. When you’ve taken the tray, join me, will you?”

Natasha faltered, trying not to look at the outline of her boss’s figure through the thin material of her robe. But with the sun shining through it, it was proving difficult to keep her eyes off the curve of her hips.

“Me?”

“Yes you, Natasha,” Y/n confirmed, smiling to herself. “Who else would I be talking to?”

“My apologises ma’am, I’ll take this right away.”

Y/n didn’t bother correcting Natasha that time, too busy gazing at the rolling landscape beneath her. She found comfort in nature, the way the breeze brushed over her skin and the sun kissed her cheeks making her melt slightly. It differed vastly from the heavy touch of James’ hands, ones she played through a heavy facade to enjoy.

Y/n’s dressing room was that of dreams, just like the rest of her house. But she barely noticed it anymore. Her gaze settled on a white box on the central dresser, smiling to herself. She enjoyed the luxuries of life, and that included lingerie too. She told everyone it was for James, but really it was for her.

She just wanted to feel good for herself.

But those damn feathered sleeves kept getting in the way, so she shrugged her robe off and let it pool on the floor around her feet. She barely noticed the cooler air on her exposed limbs, too busy pulling off the lid and moving the tissue paper aside to reveal the soft coloured lace and mesh, all pastel colours for spring.

Natasha rushed back upstairs as gracefully as she could, passing through the master bedroom to the dressing room at the end. The door was ajar so she knocked three times, as usual, before pushing it open. Her breathing faltered involuntarily.

Was it normal to have that kind of reaction after seeing her boss in nothing but a mini slip dress? There was so much skin and Natasha took a second to gather her thoughts before she announced her presence, keeping her eyes firmly away from the woman in front of her.

“Natasha I want your opinions on these, come here.” The redhead obeyed and joined her side, eyes widening at the items before her. “What do you think?”

This kind of underwear was probably worth Natasha’s entire salary and she was apprehensive to touch it. Her hands stayed by her sides but she tried look objectively, even if she could barely tell the difference between the sets.

“I like that one the best,” she murmured, pointing slightly to a soft pastel blue set. Y/n smiled and plucked it from the box, holding it in front of her.

“Me too, you’ve got good taste.” Y/n slipped one strap of her nightdress from her shoulder and Natasha immediately turned around, almost squeaking at the lack of warning. “You didn’t have to do that, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Except it was. Because this wasn’t just any woman’s body, it was her mistress’s and there was no way she would ever be able to erase the images burned in her mind.

“I’ll just,” she started, trying to fill the silence by picking up the discarded robe and hanging it on a hook to her right. She caught Y/n fiddling with the bra clasp on her back, the hooks not quite fitting together.

“I hate new clasps,” Y/n exclaimed through gritted teeth, the hooks slipping once again. “Natasha, would you-?”

‘Don’t look don’t look don’t look’ was all that ran through Natasha’s mind as she carefully fastened the bra. She ignored the way her fingertips brushed Y/n’s skin, this wasn’t the first time. She was her maid, for gods sake. But Y/n was usually adamant that she could get dressed by herself, so Natasha rarely found herself around her mistress in just her underwear.

With a muttered thank you, Y/n wandered over to the mirror, adjusting the way her boobs sat in the cups before admiring the set. It was perfect for spring, the baby blue mesh and complimenting white and yellow flowers sitting flush against her tanned skin. The way the material hugged her body rivalled that of a custom made piece and Y/n hummed, content with what she saw in the mirror.

“It looks- beautiful,” Natasha faltered, keeping her composure as best she could. “James will love it.”

Y/n chuckled in the mirror, her hair shaking across her back as she laughed. “You really believe I care what he thinks?”

Natasha’s brows creased. Was that not why Y/n had those underwear sets in the first place? The redhead was empathetic but she didn’t have a significant other, there was no time for that. So her judgement was skewed, and it showed.

“I thought-“

“That’s cute.”

Natasha stuttered. “I’m sorry?”

“You,” Y/n locked eyes with her in the mirror. “You’re cute. James doesn’t care about this kind of stuff, it’s all for me, darling.” She adjusted the strap of her bra and didn’t miss the way Natasha’s eyes followed her fingers. “And now you, I suppose?”

“No, I wasn’t-“

Y/n swivelled round, hands on her hips. “I’m teasing you, darling, don’t worry that pretty little head of yours. Frown lines don’t look good on you.” She reached up and softly brushed her thumb between Natasha’s eyebrows, smoothing out the creases that had formed there. The redhead visibly freezed under her touch, the feeling lingering long after her fingers were removed.

“You’re a beautiful girl, Natasha. Who’s the lucky man in your life? Or lady?” Y/n’s eyes shifted, forgetting that she was still in her lingerie set. Natasha breathed out a laugh and darted her gaze to the floor, offering Y/n her robe again.

“I don’t have anyone,” she admitted, missing the look that crossed Y/n’s face. “I spend all my time here, I don’t need anyone.”

“Then I’m honoured to be the lucky lady. And lucky I am.” There was something so alluring about Natasha that Y/n had been hooked on since she laid eyes on her new maid a few months ago. Reserved at first, Natasha was exactly what Y/n needed after years of overbearing and intrusive maids. Natasha was a similar age and felt more like a friend than a maid.

With a confident air about her, Y/n tried on the rest of the lingerie, placing the ones she disliked back in the box with a sigh. Sticking with the blue theme, she slipped on a blue and white sundress, clasped a tennis bracelet around her wrist, slotted her sunglasses into her freshly combed hair and waltzed back onto the balcony. Natasha stayed behind, fumbling with the ribbon around the box before she handed it to the doorman who would organise the return.

The days when James was at work were usually slow and Natasha had some time for herself for a couple of hours whilst Y/n was occupied. Natasha took herself into the city in the late afternoon and ended up in the one store she had never set foot in before.

The lingerie store.

It was a privately owned boutique, of course it was, this neighbourhood didn’t do chain branches, and she quickly walked past the more provocative sets towards the tables at the back. A friendly store worker greeted her but Natasha just kept her head down, politely shaking it when asked if she wanted help.

She was out of her comfort zone, and painfully so, picking up a risky looking set before setting it down a little too quickly. A simple red lace bra caught her eye and she picked it up, only to glance at the price tag and lay it down gently. How could something like that cost so much? Natasha had seen heavier price tags than that of course, she spent her days around Y/n Barnes for god’s sake. But when shopping for herself, everything just seemed too expensive and far too lavish for a plain girl like her.

Natasha was anything but plain, yet she would never see it.

As she looked around the rest of the shop, her mind kept falling back to the red set. It was burned into her mind no matter how many other pieces she saw, and somehow Natasha found herself back at that table again, fingers fumbling over the delicate lace design.

She picked it up, a soft blushing rising to her cheeks at the thought of wearing something so… out there. But the phone in her pocket buzzed and she quickly grabbed it.

Mrs Barnes:

James has set up a date night. I need your help please :)

The red lace set was long forgotten, her mind shifting into work mode in an instant.

Just leaving now. I’ll be there.

When she returned, Natasha headed straight upstairs to find Y/n just leaving the bathroom. Her hair was still dripping and her skin damp, shining in the warm light of her dressing room.

Natasha got to work, drying and styling her hair almost on instinct, having done it so many times. Y/n thoroughly relaxed, adoring the way Natasha felt as she worked through her hair. She softly tugged her roots, but not enough to hurt. Just so it felt like a massage and her eyelids threatened to get heavy.

Date night outfits ranged from lavish to simple, and tonight was a simple night. A little black dress with a deceitful price tag was selected from the closet, a fan favourite of Y/n. She wriggled into the tight material, loving the way it hugged every part of her body as she pulled it up over her chest and slipped the thin straps over her shoulders.

“Where did you go today?” Y/n asked as Natasha zipped up the back of her dress, holding the fabric tight.

“Mostly just window shopping.”

At the mention of shopping, Y/n’s ears pricked up. She wasn’t just making conversation- she was invested. “Did you get anything nice?”

“Not really. Saw a couple of things but-“

“You know you can always take my card if you see something you like,” Y/n insisted, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress to straighten it out. “What store did you visit?”

“It wasn’t anything special.” Y/n shot her an unimpressed look over her shoulder. “I went to the lingerie boutique-“

“No you did not,” Y/n exclaimed, her jaw dropping in excitement as she turned around, clothes long forgotten. “And you didn’t get anything? Oh darling no, we are taking you back there tomorrow and getting you sorted out.”

Natasha moved over to the heels cupboard and selected a classic pair of black patent stilettos. She placed them in front of Y/n for her to slide her feet into, holding onto her hand for support.

“You’ve got that photoshoot tomorrow, so no, we won’t have time.”

Y/n paused, her dangling earring paused in mid air. “And you think they won’t reschedule if I ask them to?” Her brow raised in a ‘try me’ fashion.

“Y/n,” Natasha began to protest. “You don’t need to do that. It’s not like I need anything fancy like you anyway, it’s useless…” she trailed off, a pang in her chest triggering a wave of doubt to shudder down her body. “Vanity Faire won’t be too impressed if you cancel on them again.”

“If they want me, they’re going to have to work around it,” Y/n countered, silencing Natasha as she stalked over, slightly taller than the redhead thanks to her heels. “You are beautiful and you deserve to treat yourself like that. Everyone does, even James and he’s an asshole sometimes. So take this,” she reached into her bra and pulled out her black card, smirking at how Natasha’s brows shot up. “Take this and spoil yourself. I mean it, okay?”

“Thank you ma’am, I’m-“ Y/n almost plucked the card back out of her hand. “Y/n, thank you. You’re too kind to me.”

“Oh stop it, my ego is big enough already.”

The dressing room door flew open to reveal James, narrowed eyes as he stared at the proximity between the two women. Natasha took a couple of steps back but Y/n stayed put, clasping a bracelet around her wrist nonchalantly.

“Y/n, get out here,” he demanded, never one to speak any clearer than he had to. His wife rolled her eyes at Natasha but obeyed, sending her one final look over her shoulder before the door swung shut.

Now they were alone, James grabbed her wrist and shoved her against the wall, towering over her in the only way he knew how to display his power. The power he held over his wife, power that meant he could crush with a single fist if he wanted to.

“James,” Y/n grunted, wincing as his fingers dug into the tender flesh around her wrist. “What is wrong with you?”

“Flirting with the maids now, huh?” He growled, thick brows casting a shadow across his eyes menacingly. “I fire one, you move onto the next, is that how it is?”

“And what if I was?” Y/n baited, not flinching as his body trapped her between the wall and his torso. “Are you threatened? By that cute little thing in there?” She nodded her head in the direction of the dressing room where Natasha was before James gripped her jaw and pulled her face back to his.

“Don’t you dare.” But she did dare. She wasn’t sadistic, but the smile that curled the edge of her lips was downright crazy. But she knew how James was; they fought fire with fire, too stubborn to ever back down.

“Careful, James. Marks, remember?” His grip softened lightly. “Wouldn’t want the paps to spin a story now, would we?”

She saw how he wanted to retaliate, but also knew that she was right. He leaned closer before pulling away, huffing through his nose. “You’re so fucking lucky I love you,” he hissed before he let go of her jaw and allowed her to walk away. His job didn’t help his violent side but James had vowed since day one that he would never harm his wife. Y/n knew it too, and she pushed him to the very edge. Just daring him to.

“Weird way of showing it, but ok,” Y/n mumbled under her breath as she pushed the door closed and took a breath. Natasha averted her eyes, suddenly so busy with a hanger that had been placed backwards. Did she put it there on purpose? That’s not for anyone to know.

She’d seen the strained moments between the husband and wife but often kept her head down, not wanting to fall under James’ wrath. If she was invisible, it was better, but that was easier said than done with Natasha.

Y/n finished clasping her last few pieces of jewellery before accepting her fur shroud from Natasha. The redhead didn’t let on that she had heard every word said next door, but Y/n knew by the way she avoided eye contact that she had.

“You can have the night to yourself, darling,” Y/n winked, checking over her outfit in the mirror beside Natasha. “And you better buy yourself that set.” She gestured to the card in her maid’s pocket, insisting she used it. “I want proof that you did.”

“Thank you, really.”

Y/n blew an air kiss and disappeared to meet James, leaving Natasha once again alone. She felt the weight of the card in her pocket, seeming to grow heavier the more she thought about it. Y/n meant well, but could she really buy something like that with her mistress’ money?

Whilst Natasha debated with herself, Y/n had put on her ‘public’ face. The one that showed she was so madly in love with her husband, clinging onto his bicep as they moved from the car to the restaurant lobby. Paparazzi followed their every move, of course, and James’ bodyguard ushered the couple into the building as fast as he could.

Most celebrities hated the paps with a passion, but James loved them. He loved how much he manipulated them, and they snapped up pictures of the married couple like there was a drought. There was no doubt those pictures would be spattered across gossip sites by tomorrow morning, but that was only more free publicity for him. James Barnes never lost.

However, despite the perfect image they had carefully constructed, more often than not, date nights with James ended alone. He would excuse himself for a phone call just as the food arrived and Y/n could always see him in a private area of the balcony, phone pressed to his ear whilst his other hand pinched the bridge of his nose. Y/n picked at her food in silence, washing every mouthful down with a sip of wine. She ignored the stares and whispers and just played her role to perfection, often sending worried glances out to James.

Tonight she had struck up a harmless conversation with one of the waiters, a young man with a far too eager smile. But she tolerated him for company, politely laughing as he tried to crack an admittedly horrible joke. He was surprisingly good company for the thirty minutes her husband had disappeared for. Although it didn’t help with how sad her situation looked. Y/n was nothing if not flirty, it was in her nature. The way she crossed her legs and looked up through her lashes with a sultry stare had every man, and woman, hooked.

Her siren tendencies didn’t end with her husband, and the waiter hovering by her table was drinking up the attention. It was a big deal for him, one of the hottest women giving up her time to talk to him. He was far too young for her, but Y/n humoured his attempts at flirting, twisting her shoulders so he had a good view from where he was standing. There was a fine line between hot and just plain sleazy, but Y/n would never cross it. She was too good at toying with people.

After a while, James came storming back in, his eyes darkening not only from the outcome of his phone call but also after seeing his wife laughing over another man. His judgement was clouded by anger and he grabbed his jacket, not even bothering to take a bite of his now-cold food. Y/n jumped at his sudden movements but smiled sweetly, thanking the waiter who had stiffened.

“Let’s go,” James growled, throwing down a wad of cash as a tip before storming towards the elevator. Y/n took a moment to gather her things before scurrying after him, her red bottomed shoes clicking loudly against the pristine floor.

“Is everything ok?” She dared to ask once the doors had closed. James looked up briefly, eyed the security camera and clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck shifting too.

“I work with imbeciles,” he grunted, his hand undoing the top button of his shirt in one fluid motion. “How was the food?”

“It was good,” Y/n stated, slightly wishing she could have finished her glass of wine.

“Good? I pay all this money and that’s the best you can do?” Bad phone calls always sent him into this mood, but Y/n had been with him long enough to know how to tame the tiger.

She stepped in front of him and ran her hands up the front of his sculpted chest, brushing over the muscle and up towards his shoulders. “It would have been better if you were there,” she spoke lowly, her hand sliding up to brush the stubble on his jaw.

James slid his hands around her waist possessively, pulling her flush against him. Anyone could walk in, the elevator wasn’t private, but they wouldn’t dare say anything to James Barnes. No one who confronted him ever walked away unharmed.

“Yeah? Even though you had your new little boy toy?” Oh he was jealous and Y/n had to tense every muscle in her body so she didn’t laugh. “I saw you.”

“You really think he had anything on you?” She asked sweetly, playing him just the way she knew. “I was just bored, baby, I missed you.”

“Damn right. I hope that fuckboy knows you’re mine, and mine only.”

“I’m yours, James, I’m yours.”

She was James’, so why did her mind drift to Natasha for a fleeting moment as she said it?

~~~

Y/n had dismissed Natasha for the night earlier than normal, letting her have the evening to herself before they went out. And she praised herself now, knowing James’ rage was just bottled up and sooner or later it would come out. She didn’t want her meek little redhead to have to see that.

And she was right. Whatever James had been feeling, he held it in until they were both nearly ready for bed. Y/n slid her rings off and placed them in the dish on her nightstand, each one clinking against the porcelain as she dropped it.

“What did you talk to him about?”

Y/n paused her movements for a second. “You’re still going on about that? I told you, it was just harmless conversation.”

“It didn’t look harmless, the way you were looking at him.”

Y/n was quite literally at the end of her tether with his accusations. “And how was that? How did I look at him?”

James rounded the bed, the single chain resting on his bare chest catching in the lamplight. “Like a slut.” His eye twitched, a sign he was pissed. “How do you think that looks for me? I step away for two seconds and my wife is whoring herself out to anyone she can find.”

“I find it laughable that you think you were away for two seconds,” she countered, stepping to the side to free herself from where he’d boxed her in. “May I remind you that I had finished my meal long before you even stepped foot back inside. He just came to talk to me and I engaged with the conversation, is that so bad?”

“Don’t use that tone with me,” James spat, his eyes following her figure as she paced around the room. “You shouldn’t-“

“Shouldn’t what? Shouldn’t talk? That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? A quiet little wife who only speaks when she’s spoken to and follows you around like a lost puppy.” James set his jaw, hands clenching by his sides. But Y/n carried on, spurred on by his accusations. “Well that’s not me James, and you know that!”

She paused and ran her fingers through her hair, exasperated. “How do you think it looks on you? You bring your wife out on a date but then can’t switch off from work for two minutes to actually enjoy your time with her! I’m saving your ass here, so be fucking grateful!”

That last sentence pushed him over the edge and James stormed over to her like a bull, backing her into a corner. “Grateful? Why should I be grateful? You’re a slut and-“

“Then treat me better and maybe I wouldn’t have to stray so far!”

James’ hand had connected with her cheek faster than either of them had time to process, his rings cutting into her skin painfully. They both froze. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, the sting of the slap blooming across her cheekbone. James was breathing hard, his hand still raised from the recoil.

An apology would come… wouldn’t it? It had to, he didn’t mean that. Y/n couldn’t move, it was like the air had been sucked out of the room. Her stomach lurched, just urging James to say something. Anything.

A whole host of scenarios of how the next few moments might play out raced through Y/n’s mind, but she didn’t foresee her husband walking out without a word, a button up shirt in his hand.

She watched the door click shut before she sank to the floor, legs buckling beneath her. She didn’t want to cry, he wasn’t worth that, yet the tears still fell, dripping down into the carpet that pressed into her knees. It wasn’t from the pain, but from how stupid she felt.

Why was she still pretending? She played off everything he said to her, claiming it didn’t hurt when in reality it cut deep like a knife. Beneath her defences, she just wanted someone to care and not just because she was pretty. She wanted the slow mornings, the affection that wasn’t just for show. The ‘hey how was your day’ that wasn’t just one sided. But Y/n had sacrificed all of that the day she married James, naive enough to think he’d warm up over time.

The house felt eerily quiet and the blanket of night settled across every room. Ignoring how the clock chimed two, Y/n hauled herself up off the floor and trudged down to the kitchen, barely noticing the icy floor on her bare feet.

The freezer must hold ice packs or something similar, anything to stop bruising and swelling that always leads to questions. Y/n didn’t even bother to check if anyone was around before she pulled the door open and rummaged around, falling upon a bag of frozen peas. Not ideal, but it would do.

Except for the hum of appliances, the kitchen was silent and shadows appeared as the dim fridge light cast a small pool around her. No one was here at this hour, so Y/n dropped her guard and slumped her shoulders, leaning against the side of the fridge with exhaustion.

But she wasn’t alone.

A certain redhead had frozen in place, her spoonful of ice cream hovering somewhere between the pint and her mouth. Natasha was a midnight snacker and her feasts were usually undisturbed, but the sound of footsteps had her retreating into a corner.

It was only when she saw that familiar curtain of hair did she emerge, slowly, as if approaching a small animal, to not scare her off.

“Y/n?” Natasha emerged from the shadows, spoon still in her hand. Y/n did a double take but kept her face turned away, forcing her guard up in a split second.

But it was too slow for Natasha. She saw the vulnerability

“What are you doing down here?”

“I came to get a snack,” she replied with as much conviction as a toddler. Green eyes fell to the bag of peas… interesting snack choice.

“Why didn’t you call for me? I would have come myself.”

“It’s the middle of the night, Natasha.”

“Which is exactly my point, why aren’t you asleep-“

Y/n suddenly emerged from the corner and allowed the fridge light to hit her cheek. Natasha recoiled with a gasp, blinking quickly to wake her brain up. Was she hallucinating or was that what she thought it was? Y/n’s eyes were heavy and looked at the floor, too ashamed to watch Natasha’s reaction

“Did he…?”

The lack of response that followed was louder than a thousand words and Natasha felt her blood boil. She would happily be put away for battery if it meant she could get her hands on James, but she had more pressing matters to attend to.

Abandoning her spoon on the metal table with a clatter, Natasha hurried over and prised the bag of vegetables from Y/n’s hand. She wrapped them in a towel and gently pressed them to her cheek, muttering an apology as her mistress winced.

“What happened?”

Y/n chewed her lip, still avoiding eye contact. “Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Natasha nodded. “Ok,” she replied, respecting her wishes. You couldn’t push with Y/n, she had to come to you. “Here, sit up on there.” She helped Y/n hop onto the counter and her body instantly relaxed.

A comfortable silence fell between them both, somehow not affected by Y/n’s reluctance to talk. They never needed words, that’s what Y/n liked about Natasha so much. She was a comforting presence, and Y/n felt so at home around her.

With their faces so close, Y/n felt her chest warming at things she’d never noticed before. There were flecks of brown in Natasha’s clear green eyes, almost mirroring the freckles that danced faintly across her nose. The frown lines she had wiped away earlier were back and Y/n fought the urge to brush them away again.

After ten minutes, Natasha set the ice pack down on the side and helped Y/n down, the stone now digging into her butt uncomfortably. “Just let it rest for a bit before you ice it again. You don’t want to damage the skin.”

Y/n nodded, her face already numb. Their proximity was close but neither made an attempt to move. Natasha couldn’t keep her eyes off how red her cheek looked and Y/n desperately needed something to shut up the voices in her head.

Her eyes dropped down to Natasha’s lips, wanting to cry with how soft they looked. How gentle they’d feel on her skin, a stark contrast to the rough lips she was used to feeling dragging across her collarbones and neck. Natasha was soft and Y/n felt herself craving it.

“No, Y/n no.” Lost in her head, she’d failed to notice Natasha catching on, almost reading her mind. And as much as the redhead would love to reciprocate, it was inappropriate and not just because of her job.

Y/n leaned forwards, eyes glossy. “Please, Natasha-“

“You’re hurting, I won’t-“ Natasha shook her head, taking Y/n’s trembling hand in her own. She could make a pretty educated guess as to what had happened and did not want to be a part of Y/n’s inevitable. She pushed her own feelings down, stuffing them in a box and cramming the lid on tight.

But Y/n never made her life easy. She gripped Natasha’s hand, pulling it into her. “Please?”

“No, we can’t, you know that. And you’re my boss, Y/n-“

“Nat, I- I want you. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

The redhead faltered, watching the way her mistress’s chest heaved. Her head screamed at her to stop; it was so wrong. She couldn’t avoid the way her cheek burned red in the dim light, a stark contrast to the rest of her pale face. Never had she seen this much vulnerability in the woman who was full of wit and confidence.

The strength she was so used to seeing had completely disappeared and Y/n peered at her with tears on her waterline, her facade crumbling away with every second that ticked by.

Those seconds felt like an eternity before Natasha slowly reached her hand up.

But it was too soon.

Y/n flinched away, a tear escaping as she let out a whimper. Natasha quickly retreated her hand and let the woman before her turn back, not wanting to push her in any way.

“You’re safe,” Natasha whispered. Y/n’s eyes searched hers, trying to find any sign of a lie. But she came up empty. With a trembling hand, she reached for Natasha’s palm and allowed it to cup her other cheek. The touch was soft, warm, and everything she wasn’t used to. Even on instinct, Y/n couldn’t help but lean into it, eyelids fluttering closed for a split second before she forced them open.

“I’ve got you.”

Y/n glanced at Natasha’s lips and back up to her eyes. She needed to feel that warmth, she needed to kiss lips that didn’t curse her all day long.

“Natasha…”

The redhead couldn’t stop herself anymore and let Y/n lean forwards, connecting their lips in the most gentle kiss. Y/n tasted the sweet dessert on her lips as they moved against each other slowly, the hand on her cheek moving around to the back of her neck to hold her in place.

“Did you have ice cream?” Y/n mumbled against her lips, goosebumps lighting up her skin at Natasha’s touch.

“Maybe.”

The kiss wasn’t anything frantic or passionate, it couldn’t be. It was so featherlight that their lips barely touched, but the way Natasha’s blood felt like it was on fire was enough to convince her that they did touch. She let Y/n lead, moving their lips in tandem and fiddling with the baby hairs at the nape of her neck.

Y/n pulled away, a soft smile on her slightly swollen lips setting Natasha’s heart a flutter. The ache in her cheek was hardly noticeable in that moment; she was too fixated on the redhead in front of her.

She leaned in again, chasing that high she wasn’t ready to come down from yet. But Natasha gently pushed her back, shaking her head softly.

“Y/n, we can’t. We shouldn’t be doing this, you know that.” Y/n’s coping mechanisms were unhealthy to say the least, and as much as it pained her, Natasha couldn’t support that. Clarity had hit her like a ton of bricks and guilt settled in the bottom of her stomach, leaving a nasty taste in her mouth.

What were they doing?

Natasha’s heart shattered as she watched Y/n retreat into herself, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth slightly. Her eyes were glossy but the tears refused to spill over. Every muscle in her body was rigid, almost as if she was scared that if she moved, the dam would break and everything would come flooding out. Y/n may be good at a lot of things, but emotional confrontation was not one of those things.

“I know, I’m sorry.” She lingered for a moment, just willing Natasha to speak, to take back her words. Maybe if she closed her eyes, those lips would be on hers again. Their Midas touch, concealing the ache in her heart for a few fleeting moments was all she wanted.

But when Natasha stayed silent, Y/n turned and left, leaving the makeshift ice pack abandoned on the side. She couldn’t stay and let herself fall apart anymore. Her heart had broken twice that night, but why did it hurt so much worse now? Why did Natasha, her maid, have a stronger grip on it than her husband?

[httpsryu]

ideal type

pairing: huh yunjin x fem! reader

summary: getting asked a question during an interview leads heartbroken fans looking for the specific lady that's already in huh yunjin's big heart

category: rock band au, college gfs

genre: fluff, angst for the heartbroken fans

warnings: a LOT of jealousy from the fans and small suggestive talk

a/n: i loved writing this! thank you to the person who requested it :)

the music echoes throughout the clubroom where hundreds, maybe thousands are jumping up and down while they sing along to the song being played. the drummer starts to play by beat slowly, indicating that the bass solo is coming up.

lights in the room are ferociously blinking red, along with sirens going off into the background as huh yunjin does what she's best at; going full-jam on the bass. she gets on her knees, swaying her hips to the beat in the background as her hands attractively strum the strings.

fans take pictures and videos while screaming their heads off at how insanely attractive the specific red haired is.

however, from afar, yunjin knows the only girl she's playing for is the fair pretty lady in the back bartending drinks to customers.

you take a quick peek up at the performance in front of you while cleaning a shot glass, turning red at the way yunjin managed to send a wink towards you.

"gross, not in front of my salad." heeseung gags as he throws the towel back on his shoulder to go grab the newly sat customer.

throwing your head back in laughter as you also pay attention to the girl who finished yet another shot of straight rum for the eighth time. "another rum shot with splash of water?"

"yes, thank you."

the music starts to die down, indicating the song is going to halt at the end.

you let out a smile at the way fans are supporting the rock band, everyone is singing along, screaming and most importantly feeling the music.

"thank you all for taking the time of your night to watch us play." chaewon, the leader speaks in the mic, as she sticks her tongue out in a form of affection for the fans. "everyone make sure to get home safely, kay?"

more screams start again at the sight of the red haired bass player. she lets out a chuckle at her fangirls before speaking into the mic. "and for those who managed to score tickets to the after-show interview, can't wait to see you then."

everyone in the band stands up, waving and bowing before shortly disappearing backstage.

"they manage to get the girls off their feet, huh?" heeseung comes near you, washing more glasses. "you gonna clock off soon since your girlfriend is done playing?"

with a proud grin, you nod at your brother as you wipe your hands down on the towel draping from his shoulders. "i promise i'll open tomorrow."

"okay okay, priorities are putting your girlfriend before the family's bar and club."

you shrug, pouting playfully which earns a ruffle from your older brother.

"see you tomorrow, kiddo."

taking off your apron and hanging it in the back, you grab your items to scurry off into the backstage of the club.

looking for the room that the band was assigned to, your phone vibrates, grabbing your attention to it. digging for your phone in your bag, you hum in content once feeling the cellular block of a device.

an arm around your waist startles you, leaving you to jump.

"stop! don't do that! especially in this dark scary part of the club." you turn around, playfully smacking the taller.

yunjin laughs, nuzzling her face in the crook of your neck and inhaling the scent of you. oh, how she missed her girlfriend.

"i missed you." she murmurs in your neck, tickling you and leaving shivers down your spine. "i felt like i haven't seen you in forever!"

you can't help but to hug back your very tall girlfriend, inhaling the earthy-cherry smell of hers. "we saw each other in class."

"still felt like forever."

"EW GET A ROOM LOVEBIRDS!" chaewon's voice rings through the backstage, closing their room's door behind her.

both you and yunjin let out a laugh in each other's embrace.

"did i play amazing, baby?"

letting out a nod with a smile, your girlfriend excitedly squeals before attacking you in another hug once again.

"my eyes were always staring at you." yunjin whispers, encircling her arm around your waist to pull you in for a kiss.

a kiss where both parties are longing for each other. moving your lips along her signature cherry red lipgloss that you gifted to her while you two were fresh lovers. her tongue glossing over yours in a fight for dominance and ultimately you give in. letting out a quiet sound of pleasure while you pull her in a bit closer by her neck.

"you're so damn addicting baby." yunjin says in between the kissing.

feeling the air in you run out, you ultimately pull away with your forehead leaning on hers.

"after-show interview is going to be on in 15." she whispers gently, holding your face in her hand to give you one last peck. "i'll see you tomorrow after my engineering lab?"

"does anyone in the crowd want to ask sserafilm a question?" the interviewer asks, scanning out for hands in the audience.

everyone in the crowd raises their hands in hopes of being called on for their fun yet juicy questions.

"hmm..how about the girl in the middle with the star studded bracelet." the interviewer calls out, a smile on her face as she waits for the question.

the female in the audience clears her throat, making sure her voice is loud and clear. "this question is for yunjin."

"okay! go right ahead!" the interviewer nods, letting the girl continue while yunjin anticipates on the question from the fan.

"yunjin, being the well-known womanizer of the group, what do you say your ideal type is?"

"ooo~ that's a nice question." the interviewer laughs.

the red haired giggles, tilting her head to the left slightly in a processing-type-of-way. "i would say my ideal type is someone who has a sort of angelic vibe to them. she's determined for what she wants to do while also supporting me. oh! and she has these cute dimples that matches along with her moles."

before finishing her answer, yunjin looks down at her hand with a small very smitten smile. "lastly, she has a beautiful heart, inside and out."

every girl in the audience blinks, not ONCE, not TWICE, but THREE times in being dumbstruck at how specific their red haired bass player was at describing their ideal type.

"sounds like you have a specific person in mind?" the older woman looks at the bass player, hoping to get an answer from her.

yunjin can only let out another chuckle, holding the mic to her mouth. "just describing my type of lady, that's all."

the way the club was silent, everyone could hear the sounds of so many fangirls' hearts just broke at the bass player's words.

chaewon rolls her eyes, wanting to gag at yunjin's greasiness. how do you actually deal with this every day? chaewon feels sorry for you, honestly.

"sounds a little too specific, huh everyone?" the interviewer turns to the fans, earning nods and 'yeahs'.

the red-haired can only shrug in response, wanting to tease her fans.

"she's definitely dating someone." a fan mumbles to herself, suddenly wanting to play sherlock holmes as she whips out her cell phone to tweet about 'finding huh yunjin's secret gf'.

the interviewer continues to pick on a few fans to ask the rest of the others questions throughout the night. clueless on what is going to happen in a span of the young night, which involves huh yunjin and her ideal type.

stretching your arms out, you take your headphones off to take a quick 15 minutes break from the paper you're working on. reaching for your phone, you immediately smile at the notification on your lock screen.

"ew. i did not want to walk into the living room to see my roommate smiling over a text from my greasy bandmate." chaewon gags, covering her mouth dramatically as she picks up her car keys off of the coffee table.

rolling your eyes, you look up from your phone, noticing her keys in her hands. "going somewhere tonight?"

"i scored a date with some hot girl." the blonde sticks her tongue out, indicating that she knows she's awesome and to compliment her.

"you're so awesome, kim chaewon." sarcastically complimenting her with a blank expression.

chaewon scoffs, placing her hand on her chest. "shut up."

"make sure you're using protection."

"will do~" chaewon leaves the dorm apartment, shutting the door behind her to make sure nothing happens to her sweet roommate.

you let out a laugh at the antics between chaewon and you. leaning back down on the soft comfy couch, a satisfied stretching noise comes out of your mouth at the sudden cushion. oh, how nice it is to be chaewon and not have piles of homework and projects piling.

perks of being an architect major, you suppose.

waking yourself up with a self-inflicted smack to your cheek, you abruptly sit up to grab your headphones. however, a knock on the door startles you.

"chaewon must've forgotten something." you mumble to yourself, seeing your headphones on the place besides you before getting up to open the door for your roommate.

unlocking the door, you turn the door open and what a pleasant surprise.

"HELLOOO MY DARLING!" yunjin excitedly sings with a cheery smile on her lips.

before you're able to react and respond, the taller is attacking you with a hug as she starts peppering cute kisses all around your face.

"what are you doing here? i thought you had a lab?"

the red-haired gives you your space as she walks into the dorm. "it ended up getting postponed to next week so i decided to pay my little celebrity a visit."

what is this crazy lady talking about??

"huh? what do you mean?" shutting the door close before you trail slowly behind your girlfriend.

yunjin lets out a proud smile, showing you her phone's screen.

displayed on the screen was a 'X' tweet in search of huh yunjin's beloved lady. under that tweet were filled with replies, retweets and quotes agreeing on searching for the supposed angelic ideal type.

"what the hell?" you squint to get a better look at the other's phone.

yunjin nods, shutting her phone off and throwing it on the couch. "wanna go out on a date today?"

"i have to work on my paper."

"BOOO, please let's go out." yunjin begs, her eyes looking up at you with the look that you could never say no to. "and you look so pretty today, baby."

shaking your head as you shut your eyes close. "no. no. no. i am not falling for it this time."

a strong force grabs you from where you're standing, pushing you into a specific female's lap.

"fall for what?" yunjin whispers gently, her tone sending chills down your spine as she reaches over to grab the side of your face to kiss your jawline.

"don't act cute with me." you pout, not wanting to fall for her and her little plans. "i have to really write this paper, i'm sorry jen."

the red-haired nods, giving you one last peck on the cheek. "i understand. i'll be a good girlfriend and sit quietly next to you while waiting patiently."

SCREW YUNJIN AND HER CUTE ACT RIGHT NOW!

"fine."

"yay!" :>

long story short, the date ended up blowing the internet like wildfire. with fans of huh yunjin congratulating her while a few were nitpicking and were jealous. many others were jealous of yunjin for having a pretty lady breathing in her direction.

"we are never going out again." yunjin pouts upon entering your apartment.

you don't know what else to say before throwing your head back in laughter at the way your girlfriend is acting.

"why not? you don't want to show me off?"

the red-haired girl can only throw her head back in agony at the thought of everyone wanting to steal you from her. "you're literally the epitome of where one says their ideal type is pure."

"and i think that's half of the men and women who eyed you down in front of me." yunjin can already feel her hair coming off, if there was another reason to dye her hair blonde again, she would in hopes of it coming all off. "i was next to you, holding your hand and they STILL eyed you like you were SINGLE."

taking off your docs, you can only shake your head at how the older is acting. "well, for one, at the end of the day..i'm only yours. second, even if they look, you just need to know that you're the only one i ever only look at."

"i knowww but UGHH-"

grabbing the taller's face into your hand, you tip-toe up to reach her lips to which you peck multiple times.

yunjin still is pouting but nonetheless, she lets out a very smitten smile. cooing at how pretty you are, while she too kisses your moles on your face.

"i guess i am pretty lucky to have this beautiful lady in my arms, huh?"

nodding at her words, you kiss the older's neck. "wanna help me with my paper?"

"if you let me hit it raw."

"what?"

"huh?"

june 15, 2024; publishing date

[orionremastered]

Damian Wayne x Paramedic!Reader

Soulmate AU

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

CW: Poisoning, respiratory failure (just another Tuesday in Gotham)

When you were born, your parents were eager to see the first words of your soulmate written on your left forearm. You were woken from your sleep, wrapped in a soft blanket, when your mother gently took out your arm from the fluffy fabric.

Yet when she saw the words- no, word, singular- she paled. Your father leaned over and froze to a statue. Written on your wrist was;

Poison.

Yet your family's reaction wasn't even comparable to the confusion felt by the Al Ghul's in Nanda Parbat. When Talia read the words on her son's forearm, she could feel her heart stop for a moment.

You need to breathe.

The first words that the soulmate of Damian- the next Demon Head, next leader of the League of Assassins and the most intimidating and highly-trained man on Earth- would ever say to him shook Talia and Ra's to their core.

And once Damian was old enough to know what it meant, it shook him too.

Twenty Two Years Later...

The day started out as normal; you say hello to Harper, your partner in your ambulance unit, handing him a coffee before getting into the ambulance for a long twelve hour day shift, the day after Halloween.

"I don't want to be here," Harper says immediately.

"Neither," you reply before you pull out of the station and out into the street.

Not two seconds later, a beep sounds and Harper reads from the computer beside him; "Twenty-two year old male has collapsed and is struggling to breathe. Wayne Tower building on the top floor- that elevator better be in service or you're crashing this ambulance into a brick wall."

You snort, flicking on lights and sirens due to the nature of the incident and speed off towards the tower. You don't even need directions; the building looms over the entire city like a god and is a beacon of wealth- something two underpaid paramedics definitely do not have.

Arriving on scene and parking the ambulance hastily so that the back doors opened right next to the entrance, the two of you pull out the stretcher and rush into the building, many thoughts filling your mind as you reach the elevator- luckily in service- and hit the button for the top floor.

What could it be? Countless nights spent studying rather than sleeping fill your head as you sort through knowledge.

The elevator seemed to take forever, and maybe it did- this tower is extremely tall after all. You and Harper exchange glances just before the doors open.

Moving swiftly to the meeting room, full of businessmen in suits, your gazes are immediately drawn to the man on the floor.

Damian Wayne. Probably one of the few people who never needs to introduce himself.

He's not just struggling to breathe; you reckon he's paralyzed, too. Something sours in your gut as you crouch behind his head, Harper at his feet.

The Wayne's eyes lock onto yours as he takes in a raspy breath. "Poison," he chokes out. The words don't register just yet as the two of you lift him up from the floor and onto the stretcher.

"You need to breathe," you chide, and swear his eyes widen the slightest fraction. Harper straps him to the stretcher before giving you a nod. The only other person more famous than Damian follows you when you and Harper walk out with the stretcher. Bruce Wayne.

The elevator ride seems even slower going down. Bruce grips the side of the stretcher, knuckles white as Damian fights for each breath he wishes to take. But every second or so, Bruce's gaze flicks to you and makes you prickle with unease. Soon you realise Harper is doing the same thing.

Why- It hits you like a semi truck hitting a motorcyclist without a helmet on a highway. Damian Wayne's first word to you was 'poison', the same as it is written on your forearm.

The elevator dings and the door slides open. When you finally get him into the ambulance, Harper tosses you the keys without a word and settles beside the stretcher in the back, Bruce beside him.

You'll thank Harper later; right now, you need to get your soulmate to hospital.

"You should go check on him," Harper says at the end of your shift after handing the keys to the next crew. The two of you walk to the parking lot, tired and still processing the things you've seen. "Like, now. You've been angsty all shift."

"How can I not be?" you sigh. "Yeah, I guess I will, then. See you in two days."

Getting in your car, you pull out the parking lot and out into Gotham. The sky's getting dark- or darker- and the traffic is thinning. No one wants to be out at night, especially first responders. Yet instead of going straight home like normal, you drive to Gotham General Hospital.

The lady at the front desk frowns slightly when you ask for Damian Wayne. It's understandable; you're practically a nobody yet you're one of the most important people in the city.

"You are not immediate family or friends," the nurse says after a long back and forth. You bit your lip to stop yourself from saying anything you'll regret, but then again, she's a nurse. Nurses and paramedics don't get along.

"She's allowed," a low voice says from the hallway. Bruce Wayne, now changed into more comfortable clothing, looks almost as tired as you. Almost. He beckons for you to follow, leaving the nurse at the front desk flustered.

Damian's ward is private and more... luxury, if that's even a word used in the sense of hospitals. He's still asleep, and you find yourself checking his vitals with a glance. Not too bad, all things considered. He's definitely breathing better.

A weight lifts from you chest as you take a seat beside his bed. Bruce sits beside you in almost a casual way, yet you couldn't be further apart.

"What was it?" you say after a long moment of silence.

"Pardon?"

"The poison. He said it was poison."

"... right. It was curare," Bruce responds, rubbing his eyes. "Someone poisoned him with curare."

The only question left to answer now was who.

~~~

Masterlist

[hootbon]

Guys I just had a thought, why has nobody done this yet-

..I’m..not making one because god forbid I have another au to make content for but.. an idea.. what if the sirens returned.. what if they won.

Or just a simple what if they returned anyhow.. debating (I used twilight as a base, just to get the point across so I wouldn’t say this is definitively what she’d look like but you feel me right?)

I could see an apocalyptic scenario with them, because think of it like this,

It’s a quiet place, but YOU have the block your ears out instead of being quiet, for hearing the sirens call will infect your mind with brainless malice and hatred.. violence. You’re either caught in the wind of the beastly creature’s voices or you’re killed by those who were. The only way to avoid them is to block it out, at all costs.. rip your ears out if you have to.

It’s just a little idea I came up with, I’m happy to share more if you guys would be interested in that!

[demonic0angel]

Celestial Bodies AU (Part 2/?)

(Part one, part three, part four, part five. Also on AO3)

Robin inhaled softly as Batman strode past his hiding spot. He placed his hands over his mouth and held still within the hiding spot he had found in the spaceship. He could see Superman glance in his direction, but thankfully, he didn't say anything as he floated alongside Batman to go to the command room.

When he heard them leave, Robin quickly followed after them.

When Batman had left him to go to space of all things, Robin knew what he had to do. With the help of Wonder Woman, who had laughed herself silly when he had asked before gleefully complying, he was able to sneak onto the spacecraft without Batman knowing.

It wasn't fair if Bruce got to go to space but he couldn't!

It was space!

Robin followed them quietly and watched as both Batman and Superman stood around the computer monitor that was built into the spacecraft. Green Lantern was already there, staring through the wide window above the monitor at the dark void. Although it was dark, several whirling stars and strange planets all shone brightly and spun in place. The screen itself held several different pictures, and each of them flickered and brightened as sounds came from the screen.

Robin's eyes widened in awe as he strained his ears to listen in.

The sounds were beautiful, like something that he would've heard at a church choir. The singing was ethereal and spooky all in one, echoing with a haunting quality to it like it was underwater.

Like a siren's song.

Robin had to clench his fingers in order to hold himself back from lurching forward, wanting to be even closer.

But who were the people singing?

Green Lantern crossed his arms when he saw the two of them enter.

“Took you two long enough. How did you find this galaxy? I haven’t heard anything about it, even from the Corps.”

Superman answered, “We were testing the new spacecraft for interstellar travel and decided to see if we could go far enough and maybe meet some sentient life forms that could join the Justice League,” he rubbed the back of his head and continued, “Well, we reached this place and then discovered them and made contact. Batman and I asked them if they would help us in the future, and they said they would.”

Green Lantern looked unimpressed. He turned to Batman and asked, “So I guess you were paranoid enough to call me?”

“… yes. And I contacted Zatanna as well.” Robin could tell that Batman was disgruntled by his own powerlessness by the way his voice was tight, like he was gritting his teeth.

He stifled a laugh at the thought of Batman being helpless. He loved Bruce, but oh boy, it was funny seeing him struggle.

Green Lantern shrugged. “I honestly can’t tell you much, because I can’t fly around here like I’d like, even with the ring. Supes, you’ve seen how dangerous this part of space is, right?”

Superman seemed excited to have someone understand. “Yes! The pressure and gravitational pull was very strong. I was only able to escape because I was far away enough and got away in time. The pull definitely seemed to match that of several astronomical objects combining into one. However, it shouldn’t be possible.”

Robin rolled his eyes. When were they going to be interesting?

He sank to the ground and hugged his knees, tilting his head to keep an eye on the three.

Green Lantern nodded. “I agree. It’s definitely way too strong, and usually, any other astronomical object would have collided with one another now, but those are definitely not normal. They’re not bound with logic or science. They even have planets circling around them.”

“We discovered that as well. They spoke with us and we determined that they were sentient,” Batman said. “It is most likely why they haven’t collided yet.”

Robin closed his eyes, leaning against the wall and focusing on the soft singing that continued to play. It lulled him into something like a doze. The song was just so beautiful and soothing, calm, yet strong. It was like a lullaby, one that he was beginning to love.

Green Lantern continued to speak, “It’s the singing, right? The ones singing are the four in the middle?”

“It seems to be all of them in this area, actually.” Batman sighed. “They mentioned two other planets the last time we spoke.”

Green Lantern hummed and turned to the monitor. “I want to try speaking with them. May I?”

Batman nodded and Green Lantern leaned in closer.

He tapped the screen and the sound was enough to rouse Robin. He blinked away the sleepiness and focused in on the room again. Superman glanced in his direction but didn’t say anything.

“Hey! Anyone there?”

The singing continued.

Green Lantern frowned. “Are you sure they spoke to you?”

“Yes,” Bruce growled.

“Try being polite?” Superman suggested.

“… hello? This is Green Lantern speaking. Can someone please respond?”

Robin held his breath as he poked his head into the door, leaning in as close as he could in order to see what would happen next.

The singing slowed to a stop, and so did the flickering on the screen. The sound of static and ocean waves filled the room for a moment.

And then, just like that, the screen spoke with the sound of a thousand voices—

"Hello."

Green Lantern’s eyebrows rose. “Well damn. Nice to meet you.”

"Hello again," Superman interrupted, beaming. "Are you all well? It's good to see you again!"

"We are well, Kal-el."

Superman’s smile went tight but didn’t say anything. Green Lantern glanced at him but was also silent.

Robin was focused on the sound of their voices. It was melodic, kind of like a little choir of voices speaking as one.

Robin's eyes widened again as he thought about it.

Amazing!

Were they speaking to the stars?

The stars continued to speak, “Hal Jordan, son of Martin, what do you seek?”

Green Lantern looked at Batman and Superman, who didn’t look surprised. He frowned heavily.

“Did you all know my identity before?” He addressed Superman and Batman with a glare. 

Superman said awkwardly, “No,” while Batman didn’t reply, so it was probably a yes.

He continued to demand, “Do they do this every time?”

“I think so? But Batman hasn’t spoken to them yet,” Superman said, looking at Batman, who still didn’t respond.

Green Lantern grimaced, turning away to look at the stars again before he then answered them.

“… I seek answers.”

“Ask, and you shall receive.” To Robin, they sounded a little tired by his questions. When looking at the adults’ faces though, they didn’t seem to notice.

Robin suddenly felt like he should’ve stepped out.

He was perhaps the only one who could understand these stars.

Green Lantern continued, “Could you tell us your names? Do you know what galaxy this is in?”

“… we have no more names. We are kept far, far away from any living planets except our own.”

“Is there a reason you’re so far away?”

“Yes.”

They waited, but there was no further response. Green Lantern grimaced again, glowering at Batman for putting him in this situation with a clearly very socially awkward galaxy.

“Can you tell us why?”

“No.”

Green Lantern asked, “Are you a danger to us?”

“No.”

“How can we be sure?”

“We’d swallow you if we were.”

Green Lantern eyed the stars with a deep frown. Robin tried to look at them as best as he could, observing the pulsing and glowing stars. The planets that circled them were quite fast, and Robin watched it all with an ever growing sense of awe.

In particular, he focused on the four in the middle, 2 white colored star-like things and a black hole, as well as a wide and glowing orb. The black hole looked intimidating, but it was so cool that Robin couldn’t help but lean past the door.

Green Lantern continued, “I am a Green Lantern. Do you know what that is?”

“We know of everything.”

Green Lantern turned around and muttered, “Jesus Christ.” He looked out the glass windows at the four revolving stars and black holes and then down at the monitor. “How come nobody knows about you?”

“Clockwork hid us….” Their voices were soft, reminiscent.

“Who?”

They didn’t answer, their silence sounding hesitant and worried. Robin hated that they seemed so fearful, as if they were protecting their mysterious Clockwork from them.

“Why?” Green Lantern pushed. Even Batman and Superman were growing agitated at the lack of any actual answers.

“… For our safety.”

Green Lantern nodded and said, “Thank you for answering our questions. That’s all for now.”

Then he pulled away, as the singing immediately picked up again, a little more rushed than before. He looked at Batman and Superman and asked, “Do we have any idea what a “Clockwork” is? Or who it is?”

“I’ve never heard of someone named that,” Batman shook his head.

Superman raised a finger, asking to speak as he said, “I have noticed that this galaxy is in the direction of the Horologium constellation. Horologium means “clock”. Maybe there’s a link between the two?”

“Makes sense. Now what? Do we even need to do anything? They’re seriously uncooperative and I think they’re being vague on purpose.”

Superman frowned. "Green Lantern," he began sternly, but the Green Lantern then put his hands up.

"Okay, first of all, I am way out of my depth here. Intergalactic threats are one thing, children that were forced to become stars is a whole separate matter."

“You already read the report, why are you complaining?” Batman grumbled.

However, Robin ignored the squabble that then ensued as his eyes widened. Children?

Were they in trouble?

Robin needed to help! As Batman’s partner and equal, he was better equipped to help than these three!

These three clearly weren’t suited for this!

Green Lantern scowled. “We have no way of knowing if they’re being truthful or not. My suggestion is that we continue to observe them in the meantime and if they want to “help” us, we take it with a grain of salt.”

Batman nodded. “Exactly my thinking.”

Superman looked a little anxious. “Aren’t we going to help them too? They said that they were human once…”

“Why bother? They don’t even act like it’s an inconvenience.”

Robin grit his teeth.

He knew it! These adults were useless! These stars were kids like him, so they needed to be helped by a kid too. If Robin was able to help, they would surely be better off than with these losers!

Robin loved Superman and Batman (he never really met Green Lantern before, but he disliked him now), but clearly, he was the man for the job.

Superman seemed to be on the same wavelength as him and said, “Let’s ask them! Maybe if we insist, they can give us more information as to why they were changed.”

"Superman, while I appreciate how you hold hope for helping everyone, I really don't think you can help... these." Green Lantern gestured to the window, where the four glowing beings were still spinning in place.

Robin felt heat flare up in his chest at his dismissive tone. How dare he brush off these stars!

Of course, if Robin had been older and not as hot-tempered and determined to hate Green Lantern, he would've seen that he seemed tired. All three of the adult heroes were confused by these beings and could not understand them, not like how Robin could. To them, it was a group of sentient, possibly highly dangerous stars that rivaled their own Sun, that could consume them all in great flames and heat.

They were paranoid, confused, and jaded, and that didn’t make a good combination when faced with beings that they could not understand, beings that they could not help and could kill them without moving.

But Robin didn't know that, so he was still fuming as Green Lantern continued speaking.

"There's no guarantee that Zatanna can help them. And we've only just started the Justice League a few months ago. We don't have many routes to help and we don't know if we can trust them. Or if they're being truthful."

Superman frowned.

"But..." he looked to Batman for help.

Batman was silent, avoiding his gaze.

Robin held back a sigh. Batman seemed allergic to emotions again. If Robin was there, he probably could've backed up Superman.

Adults were so annoying.

Green Lantern huffed. “I’ll ask them, okay? Stop looking at me like that, it feels weird that I’m falling for a grown man’s puppy eyes.”

Superman muttered to himself sullenly, “I wasn’t giving puppy eyes.”

Green Lantern addressed the little galaxy again, their song filling the room before he said, “Excuse me? I have one more question.”

The crackling singing stopped suddenly, and Robin got the feeling that they were annoyed and apprehensive.

“Speak.”

Green Lantern cleared his throat and asked, “Do you need any help? With anything? It’s only right that we help you if you’re helping us.”

More silence. Now it seemed kind of hesitant again.

“Is there anything at all? Anyone we can call?”

One voice in particular suddenly spoke up over the silence.

“… Robin.”

There was silence as Batman stood there, dumbfounded. "Who?"

Robin’s eyes widened. Were the stars talking about him?

Superman flinched.

Batman turned to him with wide eyes and then he whirled towards the door, where Robin had been accidentally leaning too far past the doorway to avoid being seen. He darted back in but it was still too late.

"Robin!" Batman barked. "How did you get on the ship?!"

Robin, realizing how futile it was to hide, poked his head back out. "You left me at home! And then went to space without me!"

Batman groaned. Then he whirled around to glare at Superman. "You knew about this!" He accused, jabbing a finger in his direction.

Superman laughed awkwardly. "Hahahah... uhh... I couldn't sense him?"

Batman put a hand on his cowl and groaned again, in lieu of taking a hand and rubbing it over his face, while Green Lantern gaped.

“Spooky, you’ve had a sidekick this whole time?! Do I even know you?!”

Robin rolled his eyes. He stood up and dusted himself off before walking closer. “I’m not a sidekick! I’m Batman’s partner!”

Batman huffed, but nodded. “Robin is not my sidekick.”

“This is bizarre as f— fudge,” Green Lantern finished lamely, and then pursed his lips together, looking at Robin with narrowed eyes. Robin returned the look. “How’d you even sneak in?”

“I’m not telling you,” Robin said, sticking out his tongue.

“Robin.” Batman glared at him.

Robin rolled his eyes again and crossed his arms. “Wonder Woman helped me.”

Batman rubbed at his eyes. "She and I will be having words after this."

Robin huffed. "Don't be mad at her! I asked her to help me!"

Batman muttered something that had Superman eying him warily.

Robin strode forward and pulled on Batman's cape. "Well, I'm still here. And I say that we help them."

"Kid, you don't understand the situation. They're dangerous. And we don't know anything about them," Green Lantern said, like he was a baby.

"Yes, we do! They're kids and I can help!"

Green Lantern scoffed. "You're what— eight?"

He was actually twelve, but for that, Robin was going to cut this guy’s shins.

Robin took out a wingding, ready to slash this asshole's ankles when he felt Batman lift him up by the armpits and hold him up in the air, forcing him to be still. Of course, he could’ve just left Batman’s hold and probably cut his ankles too, but he decided to be gracious and let Batman hold him.

He did, of course, kick Batman backwards in the chest for daring to put him in air jail, but his armor was too strong so it didn’t do anything.

Robin pouted and glared at Green Lantern with laser-like eyes before he made a slashing motion across his neck with the wingding.

Green Lantern stared at him with horror before he shouted, "Spooky, he just threatened me! Is this normal?! What demon child do you have??"

Superman, who was behind Robin, said, "What? Robin wouldn’t do that! He’s an angel!"

Robin smiled evilly. "Yeah. I'm an angel."

Green Lantern blanched.

Batman huffed a laugh. "You're demon spawn, alright. Stop swinging your birdarang. I gave those to you to fight crime, not other heroes."

"It's a wingding, B!”

He was put down after another moment of having his legs swinging midair, and because he was an absolute angel, he didn't move to cut Green Lantern's kneecaps.

It was apparently visible on his face what he wanted to do because Green Lantern shuddered and moved backwards to hide behind Superman.

Robin sniffed dismissively and then turned to Batman. "Batman, we should help them! They called for me— they need me!”

Batman grew serious again and shook his head. "You don’t know that. They could be dangerous. Robin, you shouldn’t have come here.”

Robin scowled furiously. “Don’t tell me what to do!”

Batman groaned, raising his head to stare at the stars as if they would somehow give him strength.

Robin snorted coldly and ignored Superman’s worried gaze before he strode forward and peered through the window. He shooed Batman away with a hand as he tried to approach him.

“Shoo! I’ll handle this.”

“Robin—“

“You owe me,” Robin said stubbornly. He glared at Batman, who looked even more uncomfortable. “You left me behind. Alone. You owe me! I’m your partner! I shouldn’t have to stay behind just because you told me to!”

Batman grimaced and then awkwardly, he started to say, “Chum—“

Robin interrupted him again. “Stay to the side. I’m Robin, and I’m your equal. They asked for me.” Placatingly, he added, “I’m only going to talk to them.”

Green Lantern was muttering something to Batman in a hushed whisper, but Robin didn’t pay attention to him. He just stared at Batman with furrowed eyebrows and a pout. The two of them stared at each other before Batman nodded slowly. He looked like he was constipated.

“Fine.” His voice sounded particularly tight, as if he was gritting his teeth. “You can only talk to them. And we’re staying here.”

“Fine,” he huffed.

Robin turned back towards the window. Each celestial object spun in place, lighting up with flares and bright bursts of light. The one black hole was still, while the other three spun around and around, as if to encourage him. The planets that circled them continued to do so slowly, waiting.

The singing had not started again.

“Hello. I’m Robin, and I’m here to help you.”

The radio crackled, and then there was a soft, “Hello, Robin.” The call of his name was gentle, a combination of different, reverbed voices with a strange sense of affection and care.

Robin smiled cheerfully. He liked them even more for calling his mother’s nickname for him so gently. “What do you need?”

"You can help us."

“How so? If it’s possible, I’ll do what I can!”

The one voice who spoke up earlier than spoke over the other stars once more.

“Only you can help me, Robin.”

It was said with so much quiet reverence and pleasant softness, that all of them froze. The celestial objects that been moving on their own suddenly stilled again, all in unison with the one black hole.

Robin tilted his head, but a feeling of pride swelled in his chest and he asked, “What do I need to do?”

“Robin!” Batman hissed warningly, but didn’t do anything yet.

“Oh shit,” Green Lantern said, a little too loud.

That one voice continued to speak, as the others quieted, “I’ll be yours. If you can also be mine.”

Robin blinked curiously. “What does that mean?”

“Robin! No!” Batman shouted, but the stars started to whisper loudly, a noisy buzz as they spoke amongst the sound of crackling audio and water. Outside the window, the other stars and planets continued to remain still while the black hole starting to move, humming and thrumming. It flared and glowed with its bright rings pulsing around it.

“You will be my human. And I’ll grow up with you.”

Robin thought of the fact that this star was also a kid, just like him.

The humming grew louder as Batman bristled like a bothered cat.

“So what’s in it for me?” Robin ignored him and grinned, rocking on his heels.

“Robin! Do not!”

It didn’t sound too bad, and something told him that this star of his wouldn’t hurt him. It was like an instinctive understanding, one where Robin knew that this being wouldn’t betray him.

“I’ll protect you. I’ll be your star.”

Robin beamed. With Batman hurriedly striding over to him to pull him backwards, Robin nodded and said sweetly as he put his hand on the glass, “Deal!”

The black hole that hummed outside of the window lit up with a flash and a light flew towards their ship, darting towards Robin like a concentrated sun beam.

Batman gasped, horrified, “Robin!” as he lunged forward to shield him, but the light got to him first, striking him through his outstretched hand and then into his heart. Robin gasped and Batman surged forward, holding onto him tightly.

“Robin! Chum, are you alright?!”

Warmth spread through his body and settled in his bones, safe and hot, like drinking hot chocolate on a cold winter night after a good day of patrol. Robin instinctively pulled off his glove and went, “Wow!” as pale lines appeared on his skin, a four pointed star that split into two between his ring and middle finger on his left hand.

Red, black, and blue bled into his skin until a star appeared when he put his fingers together, a swirl of beautiful colors.

Batman grabbed him and pulled him away from the window.

“Robin! Are you okay? Talk to me!”

“I’m fine, B! Look! Isn’t it cool?” Robin asked excitedly.

“No,” Batman said snappishly. “It is not cool. Are you hurt? Do you feel anything wrong?”

“Nope! Just peachy!” Robin said, wiggling his fingers and watching the colored lines flex. “I’m all good!”

He paused and looked at his mentor, his guardian, his foster father, his Batman. He patted him on the shoulder as Batman knelt before him.

“I’m okay, B, promise.”

The whispering of the stars continued, something sweet and hopeful in their voices as they chattered unintelligibly. The black hole continued to buzz and then all of them were moving in unison again, spinning in peaceful circles as if nothing just happened. The singing also continued, now sounding much happier.

Green Lantern and Superman were staring out the window in horror while Robin continued to look at his new tattoo.

He liked it a lot. It was so beautiful that his heart ached.

Batman stared at him for a long moment. Then he abruptly stood up.

“We’re leaving. Right now,” Batman said. He picked up Robin who startled and then began to whine.

“Nooooo, I said I’m okay! I’m seriously okay! It’s rude to leave without saying goodbye, B!”

Despite how Robin complained, his star only got to murmur a small, “Goodbye, my Robin,” through the radio before Batman swiftly took him out of the command room and into a smaller shuttle.

Robin scowled and kicked Batman in the arm, knowing that even if he escaped, he wouldn’t have anywhere to go in order to escape his overprotective partner. Both Green Lantern and Superman followed, the latter nervously inspecting his hand with his newly formed tattoo.

Robin crossed his arms to not let Superman gawk at his hand any longer before he demanded, “So I can come back here, right?”

“No.”

“Then how am I going to speak to my star?!”

This time, it was Green Lantern and Superman who said loudly, “No!”

Robin cried out furiously, “You all suck!”

Of course, a few weeks later, Robin still snuck in. The space ship that they were on was still located there, now permanently stationed near that little galaxy as Batman overzealously studied the celestial objects that somehow touched him with a magic that no one could recognize.

Thankfully, Robin’s star was still there, just as it normally was.

As Robin crept closer to the window, he pressed his face against the glass and smiled at the sight of his star, a dark and glowing black hole that was now greedily consuming the purple and pink nebulae around it.

“Hello, my star,” he whispered, and his star flared briefly, lighting up with red and gold hues.

Robin beamed.

Yes, it was a good thing that he snuck on that ship that day.

||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Yes, Robin is a demon child. Why? No reason, I just think it's funny. Dan and Dick suit each other 🤣

It’s like a ship but also not a ship? Like I don’t think I’ll give the Phantoms human forms (it’s so much more fun if they’re just stars, but maybe in the far, far, far future they can be humans) but at the same time, this is like…. A qpp. In a weird way. Dan is like 14 tho, and now that Dick has agreed to be his “host” (he’s around 12 now), they’ll grow up together. Please tell me if I should make it a ship or not.

Y’know, I almost wanted to not post another celestial object AU at all bc someone was really rude to me about my last post on this idea. DO NOT reblog my posts with passive aggressive and rude remarks about what is canon and what is not. If you look at my page, you’ll see that I focus on Danny Phantom and DPxDC. NOT DCU!! And even then!! I focus only on the Batfamily!!

You are free to correct me (someone did that some time ago and I appreciate it, they were truly and genuinely trying to be helpful and I feel bad bc they deleted their comments.), but do not tell me what is right or wrong with DCU canon 😒 I don’t consume any DCU media other than some cartoon shows and a few comics.

Sorry for the little rant, it infuriated me when I saw that reply. I’m happy with any comments I get, I just despise it when people give me their unsolicited opinions

Anyways, hope you liked this update! I think I might make this a series?

[sirenspells]

Its funny the jokes about aiball Omori getting Sunny banned from forums cause I had always imagined Omori just making his own accounts, but not only is him using Sunny's funnier but also I think it would make more sense if Omori had to pass not a robot tests in order to make his own

[cordeliawhohung]

HERE IS MY MONEY 💶

HERE IS MY VIRGINITY 🌺

HERE ARE MY BONES🦴

YOU CAN TAKE EVERYTHING FROM ME, DESTROY ME, SHAME ME, but only if reader (touch me till I vomit) gets a well deserved hug❗️❗️❗️

AND NOT A QUICK PAT ON THE BACK TYPE OF HUH NO! 🫂 she needs to be HUGGED, EMBRACED!

Great story like the psychological aspect is just *chef's kiss

Lord your story might be better than some published books I've read

XOXO

perhaps this can hold you over for now <3 | non-canon addition to pet!au (tmtiv)

cw: angst, comfort, bittersweet things, simple drabble

It hurts — the metal that digs into your chest.

Gilded tags press against you, scarring your flesh, yet you wrap your arms tighter around the figure in front of you. Pull them closer as if to welcome them within your own rib cage. Prismatic light illuminates the dead grass and fallen leaves beneath your feet. Red, blue, yellow; sirens have long since died and the silence of the forest is overwhelming.

Navy fabric scrapes against your cheek, yet you press your face against it because you hear a heart flutter. It beats and pounds against your face, and you realize that it is the sound of a heart that doesn't want to hurt you. You can finally hear the heart that doesn't belong to a beast. You swear you have never listened to something more emollient in your entire life.

You do not cry until loving limbs embrace you back. A hand on the back of your head, fingers weaving between overgrown hair, a soothing palm running along the aching muscles of your back — you sob. It is guttural. Disgusting. This savior has rescued you in freshly pressed clothes and you thank them by wailing snot all over their uniform. Restless fingers claw at their back as if to destroy them; you fear you might not know how to be kind anymore. Not after this.

"It's alright," the officer whispers. She's a woman. She's a woman. You cry harder. Her voice is soothing, and you realize she is the first person you've been around in months that does not bark at your sorrow. "It's gonna be alright."

"I didn't think anyone was looking for me," you babble, spit leaking from the corners of your mouth as your throat constricts. "I thought I was going to die here!"

Her arms grow firm at your confession. Blood shoots through her veins as her pulse quickens and you wonder if she always reacts this way. If every little detail she runs across in her job as an officer has her heart racing, or if her pity for you grips her so tightly she has no other choice than to cry with you.

"Been looking this whole time," she assures you.

You didn't think you would want someone to touch you after everything you've been through, but you ask her to hold your hand in the ambulance. She's soft. Faint calluses dampened by hand cream. It's then that you realize that it isn't the touch that you've been afraid of, but the pain that comes with it. No snapping of bones or yanking on collars. You don't think this officer cares about you, but she doesn't hate you. She doesn't hate you, and she holds your hand, and doesn't glare at your crying.

At the hospital, when you're stripped bare of your old clothes and collar — the name Bonnie still haunts you somewhere in those walls — they let you sleep. Every few hours a nurse wakes you up to check your vitals, and she asks you if you need anything, and you always say no. You have everything you have always wanted.

In the morning, you wake up alone. No hands to paw at you. No warmth of another body. Just you, the sunshine, a faint rash on your throat and nothing more.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Price to Pay

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, power dynamics, violence, blood, death, grief and trauma, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: a robbery changes your entire life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: This is for @stargazingfangirl18 Siri's Birthday Bone-nanza! Happy Birthday. Enjoy. I've cooked you up some Mob AU+Andy Barber.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The flashing lights fade away with the squall of the siren. The smell of iron tinges the air and stains your every breath. You shudder as you stare through the tight squares between the bars across the windows.

That grating did little to deter the robber. No, he made you do it. You had no choice. 

You look down at your hands. Will the shaking ever stop? There’s blood crusted around your nails despite the frantic scrubbing in the bathroom. Once the officers took their evidence, you couldn’t stop trying to wash away the taint. 

The floor shows the crimson imprint of where the men fell. Where you went to hold him in the throes of death. The fate you fired into his chest. It was you or him. That’s what you told yourself. It’s what the police said too as they wrote out the report. Come down tomorrow and sign your statement, ma’am. 

Stan couldn’t be bothered to come down to the corner shop. He owns the place but is doesn’t mean he gives a shit. The officers waited for him to show but resigned themselves to following up later. 

He had a gun. You couldn’t do anything else but open the drawer and scoop out the bills. You weren’t going to do anything but hand over the money but then he fumbled and you did too. The scramble for the pistol under the counter slowed time. The pull of the trigger put it into overdrive. 

You can feel the recoil in your forearm. The rest of you is just as stiff. You can’t untie the tension left by the night’s deadly end. You killed that man. He's rolled him out under a sheet.

He bled out in your arms, even as you desperately tried to stem the flow with the dirty rag. Why did you shoot him? Over fifty bucks worth of change? 

Adrenaline. That’s what the cops told you. Stupidity is what you believe. This job isn’t worth all that. 

And you still have to finish your shift. You look away from the faded stain on the floor. He was so young. He just made a stupid decision and you took everything from him. He’s dead. You killed him. 

🚨

You stand outside the convenience store. Strange how it seems just the same as it was. The dingy moniker flaps at one corner as a tear rents the fabric.

Customers come and go as you stand on the curb. You’ve been standing there for an hour now, trying to make yourself go inside. You have to work. If you want to stay in the hell-hole you call a home, you need the stingy paycheck. 

You check the time. You’re not late yet. You only came early because you couldn’t stand to be alone in your apartment. Now that you’re here, you just want to go back. 

A bang jars you and you cry out, spinning to search for the source. A rusty old Chrysler chuffs out black smoke and rumbles loudly. Just a backfire. You knot your shaking hands together and search the block. 

“Heard something about a robbery,” a voice draws your attention towards another car. The model is too nice for a neighbourhood like this. A man leans against it, his hands in his pockets. “Young kid. They took him down to the morgue.” 

You squint at the man in confusion. His suit is finely tailored and his beard trimmed to a tee. He stands out among the sagging jeans and worn leather. You shake your head. 

“I heard...” you croak.  

“Sad. Stupid kid, huh? Stupid decision. All for a couple bucks.” He tuts and shakes his head. 

“Yeah, um, tragic. I...” you look over your shoulder. “I gotta work.” 

You turn away and march across the pavement. Something about the man’s cool demeanour sets you on edge. Or maybe it’s the reminder of the night before. Not that you could forget. 

You enter with the chirp of the bell and greet Mauricio as he plays solitaire on the counter top. Your sneakers squeak to a halt before you can step on the cracked tile with the red splotches. You stare down at the festering memory. 

“Tough night,” Mauricio says. “I never shot one, ya know? Always shoot past ‘em. Give ‘em a scare.” 

You tuck your chin down and step over the tile. Mauricio lets you in through the door and you sidle behind the counter. You put your purse in the cupboard by the cigarettes and sniff. You wring your hands and lean on the shelf as you wait for your shift to start. 

Mauricio shuffles the cards and packs them away. 

“You okay? Police were here earlier.” 

“They were?” You gulp. 

“Might be back. Think they just wanted some Coke,” he snickers and tosses the cards under the till. The gun is still gone, probably down in some evidence locker. “Stan is pissed about the pistol, ya know?” 

“Mm, I didn’t... didn’t mean to.” 

He sniffs as he pats his back pocket, making sure he has his wallet. “Sorry, senorita. It can’t be easy, wish I had some way to help but Stan isn’t gonna pay me nothin’ to stay and I got that gig down at Jethro’s.” 

“I’m fine.” The lie is less than convincing. 

“Told him, shouldn’t have you on nights.” He shakes his head as you move to let him past. 

“It’s work.” 

“Eh, it’s somethin’,” he scoffs and hands over the keys. “Whole thing was plastered in the paper and all over the internet. Should keep the bad ones away for a while. Place is hot now. No one wants to get their ass blown off over pocket change.” 

“Sure.” 

You clip the keys on your belt. You back up and cross our arms. You lean again as you wait for him to go. You can’t say what’s worse, being alone or talking about it. 

As Mauricio goes, a customer enters. She wants a pack of menthol and some scratchers. You ring her through as she snaps her gum between her teeth. The bell chimes with her exit and stutters as another enters. 

It’s the man in the nice suit. He stops at the newspaper rack and grabs an issue. He struts up to the counter and throws it down.  

“Just the paper?” You ask. 

He steps closer and opens the newsprint. The crinkle is deafening in the drone of the local radio station buzzing from the speaker above you. He taps the page. 

“Kid was eighteen.” 

You bite down and stare back at him. You don’t know what to say or do. Is he some sort of detective? His suit might suggest as much but he hasn’t flashed a badge. 

“It was a BB gun. Looked pretty real, didn’t it?” He spits. 

You wince and shrug. You trace your knuckles nervous as you look down at the paper. Your nose tingles, your eyes too. 

He backs up and heaves out a sigh. He glances around and strides up to the stained tile. He looks down at it emphatically. 

“Blood don’t come out easy. No matter how much you scrub or bleach. It’s like that Edgar Allan Poe story...” he raises his chin and closes his eyes, taking another deep. “Do you hear it? His heartbeat? Racing as the life drains out of him?” 

Your lip quivers and you shake your head. You flick away tears before they can fall, “I didn’t mean to.” 

His cheek twitches and he snorts. He turns to your stiffly. He comes back to the counter and you tense as he reaches under his jacket. You shudder and peek at the empty shelf beneath the till where the pistol should be. He slips out a photo and lays it down, his thumb lingering on the frame.  

You gasp. It’s that boy. He’s young and smiling. He doesn’t look scary like the night before. 

“You didn’t mean to kill my son? Over a bunch of piss-stained bills? You couldn’t tell the gun was a fucking toy?!” 

You cower and your eyes well. You rub them with your sleeves. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You fucking will be, sweetheart. Do you know who I am?” 

You stare and your mouth falls open. 

“His name was Jacob. Jacob Barber.” He swipes up the photo and snarls. “Any bells ringing?” 

You gape at him in horror. Barber. Yes, you’ve heard of him. He’s no detective. That suit is just a disguise. His business is deadly. His business is his ego. The personal is professional and you just stepped over the line. 

You brace yourself and drop your arms straight. You watch him, waiting. He looks back at you, agitation rippling above his brow. 

“Nothing else to say?” He sneers. 

“I deserve it.” 

He arches a brow, “deserve what?” 

“To die. So do it, please.” 

He laughs sardonically. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s cute.” He puts his hands on the counter and leans in. “I’m not going to kill you. I’m gonna do a lot fucking worse.” His eyes flick up and down and he pushes off. “You owe me and I always get what’s mine.” 

He twists on his heel and marches out. You gulp, frozen in fear, and watch after him. You don’t move until the next customer enters. Even then, you can hardly make your body listen to your fractured mind. 

🚨

There is no coming back. Thing’s don’t get better. You don’t calm down. You don’t sleep. You barely eat.  

All you can think about is the blood gushing from that boy’s chest. When you manage to close your eyes, you feel the hot stream flowing through your fingers. You smell it in the air. Beneath it all, you hear his father’s threat. 

‘You owe me...’ 

How can you repay that sort of debt? You killed his child. You didn’t have to. You could have handed over the money and told Stan the kid had a gun pointed right at you. Why did you do it? That question is as torturous as the memory. 

A week goes by. Ragged nights followed by desolate days. You stand behind that counter and stand at the reddened tile, or sit at home and rot. You wait for him to come back. Maybe then he’ll just end it. 

Another week of purgatory and your dissociation gives way to paranoia. Every time the shop door opens, you expect to see him. Barber and his tailored-jacket, a gun in his hand, ready to claim what’s owed. Every stranger on the street is just him in disguise, every shadow in your apartment is him haunting you. 

When he does appear, a month to the day, you’re almost relieved. There he is at your apartment door, stood as he was the first time you saw him. Arms crossed, leaning, looming. You stop and stare at him.  

He looks you in the eye and nods at the door. You unlock it and let him in. He isn’t in a suit this time. He’s dressed down, a hoodie and jeans. He doesn’t seem the type for denim. He struts inside and you close the door behind him. 

The air is static as he examines the bachelor suite. Your whole life in a single room. He is unimpressed as he stops by the table. Stan lets you take the old papers. You’ve brought home every single issue with a mention of the boy; Jacob. You don’t know why. 

His blue eyes are darkened in the gloom of your apartment. His beard is thick across his cheeks and defines his square jaw. His features are stony in determination. 

He pushes them to the floor and huffs. He stalks around the space as you stand by the door. You imagine him spinning to you, pulling a gun from under his sweater and firing. You could smile at the thought of it ending. 

He stops at the foot of your bed. The lumpy mattress sits on a metal frame. Beige sheets are pulled to the corners, a plaid comforter strewn carelessly below a single pillow. A used double you got from the thrift shop with your first pay. It smells like cigarettes. 

You stare at his broad shoulders as he runs his hand up his front. His zipper slices through the silence as he pulls it down. He shrugs off the hoodie and spins on his heel. He slings it over the only chair, right beside the table. He looks up at you, eyes blazing. 

“Strip.” 

His demand shakes you. It’s the first you’ve felt anything but horrible grief and self-pity. You’re afraid. You weren’t before. Just anxious. 

“Don’t say a fucking word,” he snarls as he tugs at his long-sleeved tee. 

You untie your sneakers and leave them by the door. You cross the room, staying far from him as you take in every inch. The apartment feels even smaller now.  

You unzip your jacket and fold it over the side of the plastic hamper in the corner. You pull of your socks and drop them into the depth of unwashed clothes. You undo your fly, your hands clumsy and shaking. The rustle behind you adds to the speckle of ember under your skin. 

You push your jeans down and step out of them. You throw them into the basket and peek over your shoulder. He stands at the foot of the bed once more. His hands are on his hips as he glares at the mattress. He wears only a pair of dark briefs. 

His intent isn’t hard to fathom. It’s not about the act itself, it’s the power, the humiliation. You ruined his life; he’ll do the same. 

“Hurry the fuck up,” he barks. 

You pull your shirt off and fumble with the back of your bra. You can barely get a grip as you quake. You push down your underwear and hang your head. You turn and march forward. He shoves down the elastic of his briefs at your approach. 

He’s a big man. Tall, muscular, stronger than you, without a doubt. Even if he wasn’t, he has all the power to keep you in line. 

“I don’t want to see your fucking face. Get on your stomach.” He commands as he peels off his last layer. 

You put your hands on the mattress and crawl over it. You cry out as he strikes you across your ass and sends you flat. You brace yourself on your elbows and whimper. He grabs your ankles and drags you down the bed.  

He hauls your legs over the edge so your feet are on the floor. He growls and scratches up the back of your thigh. You whine and he swats the back of your head. 

“Quiet,” he warns. 

He leans over you and plants his hands on either side of you. You stare up at the pillow, focusing on it as you desperately search for the numbness of those last weeks. It’s all gone now. You feel everything. The sting of flesh, the futility, the horror. 

He lifts a hand, the bed shifting with him, and traces along your spine. He dips along your ass and kicks your legs wider. He feels between your thighs and jams his fingers against your folds. He’s impatient and cruel. He rams two fingers into you and you squeak, spine arching as you grasp the linen comforter. 

He hushes you as he pushes deep. His knuckles press against you and he draws back. He jerks his hand gruffly, fucking your dry cunt raw. You hold your breath as he plumes out around you. Each intrusion is dull and achy. 

He tears free of your cunt and angles over you. He guides his tip along the swell of your ass and presses to your entrance. There is no time to be ready for him. 

You cry out and throw your head up. It’s like a red-hot iron inside of you, burning from inside out. He snarls and hooks his arm around you, smothering your mouth in his hand. You smell yourself on his fingers as the press against your nose. 

He snaps his hips and buries himself in you. You kick the floor and slap the mattress. Your muscles tighten and your bones thrum. He pushes his nose into your hair and ruts again. You squeal into his palm as your eyes bead with tears. 

He’s methodical. He pumps into you. Long, slow strokes so you feel every inch. He’s taunting you. He’s punishing you. His hot breath wraps around your scalp as he puffs. 

He bends his other arm, elbow digging into the limp mattress, and stretches his fingers around your throat.  He collapses onto you, crushing you beneath him as he squeezes your neck and jaw. He has you trapped in his grip. 

His pace quickens with his breath. He grunts and growls against your temple as the bed frame whines with his rhythm. His flesh slaps between the squeaky tempo and your pathetic mewling stays cupped behind his rough hand. 

He pounds you into the mattress, each dip of his hips heavier than the last. Every ounce of emotion; anger, grief, resent, hatred, is hammered into your helpless body. 

He puts his teeth around the brim of your ear and pinches. He growls and you feel the rumble roll through him. His thrusts turn snappy, punctuated by the bite of your flesh. Harder, harder, harder. He spasms but doesn’t let up. 

He untangles his arms from under you and pins your shoulders. He fucks his cum into you as he lifts himself up. His weight threatens to pop your bones out of joint. He pushes his thighs against yours, splaying you as far as he can. 

His furious onslaught doesn’t let up until your thighs and cunt are painted in him. Until your breathless and babbling, head lolling, defeated as he leaves you smeared across the blankets. He burrows in as deep as he can before he pulls out. 

He pushes off the bed, jarring the world around you, and his shadow hangs over you. He inhales and lets it out slowly. 

“My son. My only child,” he grits out. He bends and feels along your cunt, spreading the slimy mess leaking from your cunt. “You owe me and I will get exactly what you took from me.” 

[kai-uh-arcadian]

I feel like I know you

synopsis: you relentlessly have dreams of a woman you can never remember the moment you wake up

cw: soulmate! AU, angsty-(?), minor cursing, briefly suggestive, alcohol, brief mentions of death/killing

word count: 7.5K

notes! hi hi (: it’s lowkey inspired by the movie ‘Your Name’ but with Tzuyu! (obv) Italics indicate dreams/other timelines. I really enjoyed writing this— although I’m inexperienced I hope you enjoy! Let me know how you feel about it or if you’d just like to chat! Love youuu (:

You were at the bookstore when you first heard it.

Bells.

Clear and unmistakable, the sound cut through the quiet hum of the store. It was as if the world paused for a moment, just long enough for the chime to echo between you both.

You were walking through the narrow aisle, lost in thought, when your shoulder brushed against hers. The contact was brief, almost incidental, but the timing was perfect—right as the bell rang. Both of you stopped, caught off guard, and turned to face each other. Her eyes were wide with the same bewilderment you felt. For a split second, it was as if the world shrank to just the two of you, suspended in that peculiar moment.

“Oh-! I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath– trying to assuage the awkwardness that was in the air. She nodded, offering a small smile before you both continued on your way, the moment slipping into the background like a passing breeze.

You finished your browsing, paid for your book, and headed back to your studio apartment. The familiar warmth of home welcomed you along with your dog Bread as he was wagging his tail. You set the book down on the table, patted Bread’s head, and moved through the motions of your evening routine—making dinner, washing the dishes, tidying up and showering.

Finally, as the day wound down, you climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. Your thoughts drifted to the beautiful woman in the bookstore, the sound of the bell, and the strange sense that something had shifted. You decided to shrug it off as a coincidence as maybe someone had opened the door at the exact moment you two brushed against each other(but you swore you only heard it in your head, not from your ears.) 

But sleep came quickly, pulling you into its embrace before you could dwell on it any longer.

That’s when it began.

The dreams.

You’ve always had vivid dreams, the kind that feel more like memories than figments of your imagination. But this was different. The clarity, the intensity—it was as though you were slipping into another world entirely.Truly blurring the line between reality and fantasy.

“Jagiya~, let’s go up there! That spot looks perfect!” The voice was ethereal, almost musical, as she led you up a lush, green hill, a wicker picnic basket swinging gently in her free hand.

“Yeah! That’s perfect!” you replied, your voice bright with excitement. But even as the words left your lips, it felt odd—as if you were watching a scene play out from a distant memory, detached yet present. Like you were both an actor and observer, following along as if it were scripted, yet not fully in control.

The strangeness lingered.

You were fully conscious, intensely aware of everything around you: the warmth of the sun on your face, the way it cast a golden hue across the landscape; the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze, brushing against your skin like a gentle caress; the intoxicating scent her rose perfume that drifted through the air, delicate and familiar, stirring something deep within you.

“When I used to get homesick, I would come here and make all the same snacks my mom used to make for me when she would take me out for a picnic” her voice entranced you like she was a siren. God.. Her laugh was even more enthralling, “She even let me bring TWO of my stuffed animals to join us” she chuckled

“I haven’t been here in a while though..” she trailed off as if she had more to say but waited for your response.

“Hm~? Why not jagi?” genuine curiosity evident in your voice

Who was this woman? A part of your mind questioned her identity, her presence—so familiar yet unplaceable. The other part of you was overwhelmed by an inexplicable sense of love and happiness, as if every fiber of your being recognized her, longed for her. Your soul knew her.

You could only see her back as she walked ahead—her hair was black and cascaded down her back in soft waves, her frame slender and elegant, her height slightly above average. She moved with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly, her steps light and purposeful as if this hill was a sacred place, meant just for the two of you.

You reached the top of the hill, the world stretching out before you like a painted masterpiece. The woman paused, her back still to you, and you felt your heart quicken. She began to turn, slowly, as if in a movie, and you knew—knew with every part of you—that seeing her face would change everything.

“Well.. Because you’re my home now, y/n”

But just as your eyes were about to meet hers—

You woke up.

The dream slipped away like sand through your fingers, leaving you with a lingering sense of longing, of something lost and yet to be found. Your heart raced as you lay there, the vividness of the experience etched into your mind, leaving you questioning whether it was just a dream or something more—a memory, or perhaps, of a life you couldn’t quite remember.

~

These dreams persisted for weeks, each one more vivid and consuming than the last. Pages and pages of your journal were filled with each dream with the mysterious woman. You also sketched whatever details of her world you could recall—an outdoor market while she browsed records, a side view of her looking at a bouquet of flowers, and a pair of small dogs, one dark, one light. 

Yet, no matter how hard you tried, her face remained elusive. It was always blurred, or worse, you would wake up the moment you were about to see it. The frustration gnawed at you, driving you to spend more time with your journal, hoping that somehow, the next dream would reveal more pieces to complete this impossible puzzle.

After scribbling whatever details you could remember, you sighed, setting your pencil down. You cleaned yourself up, fed Bread, and sent some money to your loyal dog sitter (and neighbor!) Momo. 

With Bread content and your mind somewhat at ease, you began to organize your things for work. Once everything was in order, you decided to head to your favorite café, Park’s Perk.

~

The morning air was crisp as you made your way down the familiar street. As you entered the café, the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee greeted you, and you spotted your friend from college, Jihyo, preparing for the day ahead.

“Jihyo-unnie, you don’t understand these dreams I’ve been having!” you whined, trailing after her as she moved from table to table, wiping them down in preparation for opening.

She paused, glancing at you with a mix of concern and amusement. “You’re right, I don’t understand, but I can imagine how crazy it must be to experience them. Maybe it’s— Hi, welcome in!”

She was interrupted by the bell above the door jingling as another customer entered. You let out a sigh, flopping down into your usual seat by the window. “ Ugh~ It’s like every time I’m about to see her face, something pulls me out of the dream. I just can’t shake the feeling that she’s important, you know?”

Jihyo finished wiping down the last table and came over to join you, setting a steaming cup of your favorite brew in front of you. You said a quick ‘thank-you’ before she continued “You know, the subconscious mind is weird. Maybe it could be connecting you to a past life or maybe it’s just showing you the type of life you want to live with someone. Did you have a dream last night?” 

You took a sip of the coffee before explaining, “Yeah we were..”

You rummaged through the cupboards of your home, carefully selecting your and your wife’s favorite tea cups. They were delicate, with hand-painted patterns you had both made at a pottery class you two took as a date. You gently scooped the tea leaves into the kettle, breathing in the familiar, calming scent as the steam rose. The boiling water poured into the kettle with a soft hiss, and you set it aside to steep

As you moved about the kitchen, you heard your wife’s footsteps in the hallway, the soft padding of her feet growing fainter as she entered the living room. A moment later, the gentle, melodic sound of the guzheng filled the air, the music wrapping around you like a warm embrace. It was a tune she often played, one that had become so familiar that you catch yourself humming it from time to time.

With the tea now steeped, you carefully carried the two cups and the kettle into the living room. Your wife was seated at the low table, her fingers gracefully plucking at the strings of the guzheng, lost in the flow of the music. You placed one of the cups near her, the delicate clink of porcelain barely interrupting her concentration. Leaning down, you pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, and she giggled in response, her fingers briefly faltering on the strings.

“Is Xinyi asleep?” you asked as you began to pour the tea into her cup, the warm liquid swirling gently.

“Yes, it was easy today,” she replied, her voice filled with warmth. “She had so much fun at the park… You’re such a good mom.” She chuckled, reminiscing about the joy on your daughter’s face just a few hours ago.

You smiled, feeling a surge of affection as you hugged her from behind, your arms wrapping around her gently as she knelt at the table. You placed a tender kiss on the nape of her neck, and you felt her shiver in response, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “You’re an even better mom,” you whispered, “and the best wife.”

She leaned into your embrace, her body relaxing against yours as she murmured a contented “Mm~” before her focus shifted back to the instrument. You released her, making your way to the couch and sinking into its familiar comfort. You rested your head on the armrest, watching her play, the music filling the room with a sense of peace and belonging.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” you said, your voice low and filled with emotion. You smiled, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as the music lulled you into a state of deep relaxation. The sound of her playing, her voice humming along, was like a lullaby, soothing and familiar.

When you opened your eyes, everything had changed. The cozy living room with its warm lighting and familiar comforts was gone. Instead, you found yourself lying on a tiny twin mattress in a college dorm, facing a woman whose face was blurry. You could see her black hair cascading over the pillow, her eyes closed in peaceful slumber.

Despite the shift in surroundings, you felt an overwhelming sense of love and contentment. The comforter was pulled up to your chins, but you knew that you were both naked beneath the sheets. You reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Your heart was doing flips–you swore she must’ve heard because she spoke up!

“Mm~ what’s your happiest memory?” she purred, her voice soft as she nuzzled into your hand, her smile evident even with her eyes still closed.

“My happiest memory?” you repeated, considering the out-of-the-blue question. Your hand gently caressed her chin with your thumb as you thought. “I think… I think it’s happening right now.”

She chuckled softly, and the sound was like music to your ears. “Is it because we just fucked?” she teased, playfully slapping your chest. The outlandish accusation made you laugh in disbelief

“No~!” you huffed, trying to keep a straight face, though you couldn’t quite hide your smile. “I’m just so in love with you,” you confessed, pulling her closer onto your bare chest. Your arms wrapped around her, holding her securely as she instinctively nuzzled closer, seeking to melt into you.

“Every moment with you is my favorite memory… It’s…” You paused, searching for the right words to convey the depth of your feelings. “It’s pure bliss,” you finally said, your voice barely more than a whisper as you leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Wow…” Jihyo sat there, momentarily speechless. Her wide eyes reflected a mix of disbelief and curiosity. “That was your dream?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, leaning forward in your seat. “It was like a dream within a dream. I could feel everything so vividly, and it hurt so much when I woke up, like I’d lost something real.”

Jihyo shook her head in amazement, taking in your words. “No, yeah, that’s crazy! I can barely remember my dreams, and if I do, they’re nothing like that—half the time they don’t even make sense,” she said with a laugh.

You chuckled along, feeling the tension ease as the conversation shifted to lighter topics. The two of you finished your coffee, chatting about the latest gossip, upcoming events at the café, and Jihyo’s plans for the weekend. It was easy to get lost in the rhythm of the conversation.

As you were wrapping up your conversation, Jihyo suddenly glanced at her phone, her eyes widening slightly. “Hey, y/n-ah, don’t you have work soon?” she asked, tilting her head to the side with a playful smirk.

“Oh shit!” you blurted out, quickly checking your watch. Time had slipped away from you in the café. You jumped up from your seat, fumbling for your wallet. After handing Jihyo some money (with a little extra for the excellent company), you grabbed your briefcase and semi-shouted a quick, “Thank you!” to both Jihyo and Dahyun, who was working at the cash register with a knowing smile.

You made your hurried escape, the sound of the café’s lively chatter fading behind you. As you rushed toward the door, you slid past another customer entering the café. Just as you brushed by, bells rang out.

Something about the sound made you pause. You turned your head briefly to glance at the person you had just rushed by, catching a glimpse of her dark hair as she hesitated for a moment, then continued into the café.

“Hi, welcome in!” you heard Dahyun greet her warmly, her voice muffled by the distance.

But you were already moving again, lightly jogging away in a desperate attempt to make it to work on time. Yet, as you hurried down the street, something nagged at the back of your mind. The bells you’d just heard—those weren’t the usual café bells. They had a different tone, a different resonance, almost like the bells you had heard somewhere… before.

You shook your head, trying to focus on the task at hand. There was no time to dwell on it now.

~ 

You finished work a bit earlier than usual, it was a rare occurrence. Leaning back in your chair, you loosened your tie, allowing yourself a deep, weary sigh. Between meeting with patients, sending medication forms for approval, and still being in school to pursue your doctorate, free time was a luxury you barely enjoyed. But today, you decided to treat yourself.

You scrolled through a delivery app, finally settling on your favorite dishes. As you added items to the cart, you thought of Momo. She was probably still at your place, taking care of Bread, and you were sure she wouldn't expect you back so early. You added a few of her favorite items to the order

You trudged home with bags of food in hand, you felt the weight of the day slowly lift off your shoulders. The familiarity of home was just what you needed. Finally reaching your apartment, you nudged the door open with your foot.

“I’m home~” you called out, your voice echoing through the hallway. “Momo, I brought food,” you added, setting the takeout bags on the kitchen counter before kicking off your shoes.

Momo’s teasing voice rang out from the living room, “Home early? You get laid off or something?”

You rolled your eyes playfully as you unpacked the food. “Hey, if I get laid off, then you suffer too, Miss Dogsitter,” you shot back with a grin. “Well, whatever, I brought you jokbal.”

Her eyes doubled in size as she peeked into the bags. “You’re the best boss ever,” she declared, her excitement evident as she started unpacking the food.

You knelt down to the ground, your heart warming as Bread hopped over to you, his tail wagging so furiously you were surprised it didn’t fly off. “Hi, baby~~!” you cooed, scratching behind his ears as he licked your face in greeting.

Momo, already impatiently digging into the food, glanced over at you. “You okay? How was work? You kinda look like shit,” she remarked, her voice muffled by a mouthful of food.

“Oh, wow thanks,” you replied, giving her a gentle nudge. “But yeah, I’m good. Just a bit mentally exhausted. I can’t seem to get a good night’s sleep lately.” You sighed, walking over to your living room and settling onto the couch with your food. “Work was fine, though. I actually finished up a bit early, which is why I was able to grab this before the place closed.”

Momo plopped down beside you, still chewing. “Oh! I bought you some beer and soju,” she said, swallowing her food. “I know you’ve been having those dreams, and I heard alcohol affects your REM cycle. Maybe it’ll stop the dreams? It’s not—or shouldn’t be—a permanent fix, but I thought maybe tonight you could use a break and get some better sleep.” She smiled at you, her eyes filled with genuine concern.

You paused, considering her suggestion. “Ah~ that’s not too bad of an idea. It is Friday, after all, so maybe I should try that tonight,” you agreed, digging into your samgyupsal.

After you two finished eating, Momo insisted on cleaning up while you headed to the shower. The hot water cascaded over you, washing away the stress of the day. When you emerged, the scent of food was replaced by the faint aroma of soju and beer. Momo had laid out an impressive selection on the table, and you couldn’t help but smile at her thoughtfulness.

You threw on a hoodie and joined Momo on the couch. She’d put on a random K-drama. The two of you chatted about anything and everything, the conversation flowing easily as the alcohol took the edge off. By the end of the night, you were both pretty drunk, laughter filling the small apartment as you reminisced about old memories and whatever the hell was on your mind.

When the hour grew late, Momo helped you into a makeshift couch bed, tucking you in. “Alright, get some sleep,” she said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll be right next door if you need anything.”

You mumbled a sleepy ‘thank you’ as she quietly let herself out, heading to her apartment just next door. The room felt warm and cozy, the alcohol buzzing pleasantly in your veins as you drifted off, thinking that maybe tonight, you’d finally get a peaceful night’s sleep. Momo had said that alcohol could affect your REM sleep, meaning you wouldn’t dream—or at least, you wouldn’t remember your dreams. Right? It sounded like exactly what you needed. No more strange visions, no more waking up with a sense of longing. Just sleep. Right!?

But you were wrong.

Out of all the dreams you’d had, this one stood out the most.

Feudal Japan, Taisho Era

For as long as you could remember, your life had been defined by a single purpose: to protect the princess of Japan. These were the direct orders given to you by Lord Chou, the man who had rescued you from the wreckage of your past.

You were just a child, barely five years old, when Lord Chou found you. Cowered in a corner, knees drawn to your chest, you wept as your parents' lifeless bodies lay before you. Raiders had slaughtered them, leaving you orphaned and alone. Lord Chou, who had killed the raiders, initially intended to leave you there, a mere child of poor merchants with no future to speak of. But then, something caught his eye—a samurai sword lying beside your father’s body.

With a furrowed brow, he studied you for a moment before speaking the first words that would change your life forever: “From now on, you will be my daughter’s protector. Dedicate your life to her.”

And so you did. From that moment on, every breath you took was in service to those five words. You trained relentlessly, honing your skills until you were one of the finest samurai in all of Japan, sworn to protect Princess Chou with your life.

~

It was the night before a raid, and the atmosphere in the camp was thick with tension. You and your fellow samurai had been informed that you were outnumbered, 80 samurai against an entire army. Death was not just probable; it was certain. But you were not afraid. This was the life you had signed up for, a life that had been gifted to you as a second chance.

You knew what you had to do. But before the sun rose and the battle began, there was one person you needed to see—one person you had to say goodbye to.

The guards at the palace entrance let you in without question; it was not unusual for you to visit the princess at odd hours, checking in on her safety. Tonight, though, was different. As you approached her quarters, dressed in a simple yogi, you felt the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

“Chou-sama, may I come in?” you called softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” came the familiar voice from beyond the tatami door. The soft glow of an oil lamp illuminated the silhouette of the princess, her figure graceful and serene.

You slid the door open, revealing the princess still adorned in her elegant jūnihitoe from today’s farewell ceremony, a sight that made your heart ache with unspoken emotion. She looked up at you with a polite smile, though her eyes held a hint of curiosity.

“Hello, Chou-sama. I apologize for the late meeting,” you said, bowing deeply, your forehead nearly touching the floor.

She tilted her head slightly, her smile gentle. “Do you need anything, y/n-san? It’s quite late.”

“Again, I apologize for the intrusion,” you began, sitting up from your bow. “I am aware of the hour, but I wanted to say goodbye. I leave at daybreak, and I fear this may be our last time speaking.”

Her face softened, her eyes widening in shock. You had known Princess Chou since you were children, she was always a bubbly and mischievous spirit. (you would usually always take the blame for her.. Unless of course they caught her red-handed) But about 5 years ago when she turned 13, the weight of her responsibilities had turned her serious, her carefree demeanor replaced by a stoicness that rarely broke.

“I see...” she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, Princess, that is all I wished to say. Thank you for allowing me to be by your side all these years. I owe my life to you and your family,” you said, bowing once more as you prepared to take your leave.

“Tzuyu,” she suddenly announced.

You paused, sitting back on your heels as you looked at her in confusion.

“My name is Tzuyu,” she repeated. “Please, call me that.”

In all the 13 years you had served her, you had never known her first name. It was not unusual, given your status as a samurai, once a mere peasant. “It’s a beautiful name... Tzuyu,” you said, the name foreign on your tongue as it seemed disrespectful.

Her tone sharpened, though not unkindly. “Are those your final words to me? Or is there more you wish to say?”

She had always been perceptive, reading your body language and the emotions you struggled to conceal. Your heart ached with the weight of everything you had left unsaid, and your eyes flashed with a sadness you could no longer hide.

“Go on, tell me,” she urged, her gaze softening as the stoic mask she wore began to crumble.

Taking a deep breath, you met her eyes. “You gave me a reason to live, a purpose that has defined my existence. I have gladly dedicated my life to you, which is why I am honoured to die for you. From the moment we met, I was prepared to sacrifice my life for yours. But while I am unafraid to face death, I am terrified of leaving you behind. You are the only person I have final words for, the most important person in my otherwise meaningless life.”

Her expression remained composed, but you could see the glossiness in her eyes as she listened to your words. “I could speak to my father,” she bargained, her voice monotone. “If you die, who will be my protector?”

“Cho-.. Tzuyu... this is something I must do. It is my duty, the vow I made to your father. I cannot dishonour that promise,” you replied, your heart sinking as the reality of the situation settled in.

“I see,” she said, though her tone betrayed the emotions she struggled to suppress.

“Promise me that you’ll come back alive?” She whispered looking at the tatami mat below her

“I promise I will fight until my last breath to return to you” You said trying to assuage her worries, knowing that survival was futile. She caught it too.

A heavy silence fell between you, both of you lost in thought, searching for the right words to say.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?” she asked suddenly, her voice breaking the silence.

“Yes... I believe I do,” you answered, surprised by the sudden question.

“Then promise me that you will find me in the next life. Promise me that you’ll never leave my side, that we’ll live as normal civilians, free from war,” she said, her voice quivering with vulnerability.

For a moment, the room was silent, her request hanging in the air. Finally, you nodded, your voice steady as you replied, “Yes, Tzuyu, I promise. A life where war does not exist, where you need no protection, and I can live peacefully by your side.”

Tears began to spill down her cheeks, the facade of the princess melting away to reveal the woman beneath. The woman you have loved for years. The woman that you’ll love in each lifetime–each timeline. “Kiss me, please. That is an order,” she whispered desperately as her voice broke.

You got up and you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to hers in a kiss that was both tender and desperate, a culmination of years of unspoken feelings. That night, your bodies blended into one, a final act of love and devotion before the sun would separate you forever.

~

The clang of steel echoed around you as you fought relentlessly on the battlefield. Your sword clashed with that of an opposing soldier, your movements swift and precise. With a final thrust, you ended his life, but before you could even take a breath, a sharp pain shot through your back, spreading to your chest.

An arrow.

You gritted your teeth, trying to focus through the searing pain, but another arrow followed. Then another. And another. And another. Four in total, each one piercing through your back and exiting through your chest.

Cowards.

You staggered, blood seeping through your armor, staining the ground beneath you. With every step, your vision blurred, but you kept moving, refusing to fall. The weight of your promise to Tzuyu was the only thing keeping you on your feet. But your body could only endure so much, and eventually, it gave out. You collapsed harshly onto the ground, the earth cool against your burning skin.

As you lay there, the world around you seemed to fade away. The sounds of battle grew distant, and all you could think of was her.

Tzuyu.

Her name was a chant in your mind, a desperate plea that echoed in the void of your fading consciousness.

Tzuyu.

You had promised her, but now you were dying, unable to keep your word. The regret was a weight heavier than any armor, crushing your spirit even as your body lay broken.

Tzuyu...

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t return.

The darkness began to close in, your vision narrowing to a single point before it, too, disappeared. The battlefield, the pain, the regret—all of it vanished into nothingness.

And then, with a jolt, you woke up.

Instead of waking up in your bed,

You woke up on a sandy shore, face down, the gritty texture of the sand pressing against your skin. Your heart pounded in your chest as you jolted awake, not a single ounce of pain surging through your body. Confusion clouded your mind as you pushed yourself up, scanning the unfamiliar surroundings.

The sea whispered softly against the shore, its rhythm almost hypnotic, but your focus quickly shifted to the figure standing not too far from where you had been laying. It was a woman. She was sitting while watching the waves, her long, dark hair swaying gently in the breeze. Something about her presence felt achingly familiar.

You got to your feet, the sand shifting beneath you as you cautiously made your way toward her. As you approached, you could feel your heart racing, a strange mixture of hope and fear building inside you. You sat down beside her, your gaze fixed on the horizon where the sky met the sea.

“What’s your name?” her voice was soft, almost ethereal, as she finally spoke.

You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing with possibilities, before you answered, “y/n. What’s yours?” Your eyes remained locked on the scenery before you, afraid to look directly at her, afraid to confront the truth.

“It’s.. Tzuyu,” she replied, her voice carrying a weight of unspoken memories.

The name struck you like a bolt of lightning. You turned to look at her, your eyes wide with shock as if the final piece of a complex puzzle had just fallen into place. She mirrored your expression, her own eyes widening in recognition.

“It’s you!?” you both exclaimed in unison, the disbelief in your voices quickly dissolving into laughter, tinged with the relief of finally understanding.

“You’re the girl in my dreams?” you whispered, your voice trembling as you spoke. Tears began to well up in your eyes, and despite your best efforts, they started to stream down your face. You tried to smile, but the overwhelming emotions made it difficult.

“It seems so,” she replied, tears trailing down her own cheeks. “Each day I wake up missing you. I’m just… I’m just really… happy to see you, y/n!” Her voice cracked with emotion as she threw her arms around you, pulling you into a tight, desperate embrace.

“Me too, Tzuyu,” you murmured, your voice breaking as your own emotions poured out. Tears fell freely from your eyes, soaking into her shoulder. “Every morning it hurts to wake up without you.”

Tzuyu sobbed quietly into your shoulder, her body trembling against yours as if holding on for dear life. Her grip tightened, her fingers digging into your back as though afraid you might disappear if she let go.

“I just… I’m sorry—I can’t seem to remember you,” she whispered, her voice cracking with frustration and sorrow. “No matter how much I try, no matter how much I write or draw… I can’t seem to—” Her voice broke, and she buried her face deeper into your shoulder, her tears soaking through your shirt.

You felt your heart twist, a sharp pang of sadness cutting through the warmth of the moment. You gently  patted her back, trying to comfort her, though you knew the weight of what she was saying. “I know, Tzuyu,” you whispered softly. “I don’t know how.. but we’re here together now. That’s what matters.”

She sniffled, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze, her eyes still glossy with unshed tears. 

“Can you remember anything before you came here?”

You furrowed your brows trying to remember, “Hmm. The last thing I remember before showing up here was… I think I was a samurai?”

Tzuyu’s eyes widened in surprise, her breath hitching slightly as your words sunk in. She gazed at you as if the pieces of a puzzle were slowly clicking into place. “You were… my protector?” she asked, her voice trembling with both wonder and disbelief.

You nodded slowly, the memories rushing back in vivid flashes—armor, sword in hand, standing at her side in a life long past. “Yes, Chou-sama.” You chuckled in disbelief and more tears trailed down your cheek as you smiled so brightly

Tzuyu’s eyes filled with tears again, but this time they were different—tears of recognition, of understanding, of something deeper than memory alone could explain. She cupped your face in her hands, her touch tender as she studied your features like she was trying to memorize every detail.

“I think… I think I kind of remember now,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Not everything, but pieces… glimpses of you. Moments and memories with you” She laughed softly through her tears. “It sounds crazy, but I think I’ve been searching for you across lives… across timelines”

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. All the moments you’ve shared with her flashed in your mind– finally remembering. “I’ve been searching for you too. And somehow, we always find each other.” You brought your hand up to gently wipe a tear from her cheek. 

“Do you think,” she anxiously began “that whenever we leave this place, do you think we’ll just forget?” she said softly, barely above a whisper

There was a pause in the air. As if you both came to the harsh realization that you’ll just be left with the longing for each other.

“I don’t want to forget.”

“What if we tried to think of a way to remember each other?” She began as if a light bulb appeared above her head “Like hmm… do you have a pen or–”

But before she could finish, something strange began to happen. The shore around you started to stretch, elongating in a way that defied all logic. The distance between you and Tzuyu grew longer and longer, pulling her away from your embrace as if some unseen force was tearing you apart.

“Wait! No-! y/n!” she cried out, her voice filled with desperation as she reached out for you. She got up and  tried to run toward you, but the distance only increased, the shore stretching endlessly between you.

“Tzuyu!” you shouted back, your voice breaking with panic. You ran toward her as fast as you could, your hand outstretched, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t reach her. The tears in your eyes blurred your vision, but you could still see her hand reaching out for you.

“My name is Tzuyu! Please.. please don’t forget me!” she yelled, her voice trembling as she fought against the ever-expanding distance.

“y/n! It’s y/n!” you screamed, your voice echoing across the shore as you stretched your hand toward her. You were so close, almost touching her fingers—

But then you woke up.

You shot up from your couch, your heart hammering in your chest. Tears flowed down your face, the remnants of the dream still clinging to your mind like a fading mist. The emptiness beside you was unbearable, the longing for her presence too much to bear.

You were back in reality, but the pain was still there, fresh and raw, as if the dream had torn open a wound you didn’t even know you had.

“No..wait..” you trembled as tears blurred your vision “No!” you yelled in frustration causing Bread to shoot his head up from his bed that was placed next to the couch (Thanks Momo)

“What... what, god..fuck, what was her name!?” you hyperventilated  as you looked at your hand that almost touched hers

“Fuck..!” you sobbed “Why can’t I remember her face? Or her name?!” frustration spilled out of you as everything seemed to be on the tip of your tongue yet unable to grasp it

~

The dreams stopped happening. 

Looking back in hindsight, at the time they were 

Frustrating.

Annoying.

Pesky even.

But now?

More than anything, you missed her—the girl who had once haunted your nights and now left your days feeling empty

To escape the aching void she left behind, you threw yourself into work, burying the longing under piles of paperwork and endless meetings.You even paid Momo ‘overtime’ as you decided to work 12-hour shifts from time to time each week. She never asked why you were suddenly working twelve-hour shifts, though the concern in her eyes said enough..

You even confided in Jihyo about the dreams—or the lack of them. She suggested you try everything from ‘shifting’ podcasts to ‘lucid dream’ vibrations on YouTube, but nothing worked. The harder you tried to dream, the more elusive sleep became.

One weekend, you overslept for an alarming number of hours. Momo let herself into your apartment to do a ‘wellness check’. Bread’s excited barks greeted her at the door, tail wagging so hard it looked like he might take off.

“y/n, you okay? It’s Momo, I’m worried” she announced making her way through your apartment while petting Bread.

She opened up your bedroom door and was greeted by a groggy you(alive and well)

“Hmm~?” you mumbled “Momo? What are you doing here? Are you okay?” You said as you plopped back into bed, stretching like a lazy cat

“Am I okay?” she huffed. “You weren’t responding to my texts like you usually do, you vampire! It’s almost 12:45!”

“12:45?!” You shot up, reaching for your phone in disbelief–blinking a couple times to focus your eyes. Sure enough, the screen glowed back at you with the time—12:37 pm.

“Yes, idiot!” she exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “Whatever—I'm just glad you're okay. Seems like Bread’s happy you’re okay too.” she said as Bread made his way onto your bed, licking your face

“Ah~ hi baby~! Good mo- afternoon~!” you cooed at him “ Sorry for worrying you Momo, I just took melatonin a bit too late I think” you said as you shifted your focus to Momo

“Don’t worry, maybe as a thank-you, you should take him on a walk today– seems like you need the fresh air more than me” she chuckled as she settled down on the foot of your bed

“Yeah that seems like a good idea, feel like I lost half my day” you rubbed the back of your neck in embarrassment

“Yeah, well.. you kinda did!” she teased

~ 

After cooking bre..lunch with Momo, you got ready for whatever was left of the day and leashed up Bread. You  headed out towards the park hoping that it would clear your mind

As you made your way to the crosswalk that was in the direction of the park you usually went to, you noticed a woman on the bus. You recognized her from somewhere. Your soul pulled you to go to her but she was in the lane that was turning left. 

She met your eyes and jolted towards you as the turn light turned green, causing your body to also jolt forward… only to be stopped by the cars that were driving in front of you.

Something inside of you needed to see her– yearned for her.

So you took the risk. You picked up Bread and weaved through the traffic while multiple cars honked at you.

You made it across the (seemingly) endless crosswalk, the bus she was in made a right turn and you watched her as she locked eyes with you from the back window/door of the bus as she faded into a silhouette 

Defeated and broken.

You made your way to the park. You found a bench and sat down, letting Bread wander within the limits of his leash while you sank into your thoughts. Time seemed to blur as you replayed the fleeting moment over and over in your mind, wondering why it hurt so much.

The leash tugged at your hand, snapping you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see Bread straining toward another dog across the park. Your eyes followed the leash to its owner, and there she was—the woman from the bus, walking two dogs of her own.

Your body moved on its own. Like she had some sort of magnet pulling you.

You finally reached her. She was a distance away but it was her. It was for sure, the woman from the bus.

Bread noticed the two dogs and pulled you closer and closer to her before reaching them.

The three of them began sniffing each other and you politely said “Oh he’s very curious, sorry” You gaze focused on the dogs, trying your best to mask the turmoil inside you

“It’s okay,” she let out “they are too”

Awkward silence hung between you, the kind that feels heavy with unspoken words. You finally broke it, the question bursting out before you could stop it.

“Have we met before?”

She tilted her head slightly, as if trying to recall. “I think… maybe… Oh—! You’re the one that bumped into me at the bookstore!” she exclaimed quietly.

A tinge of sadness settled in your heart, as if that wasn’t the right answer, or maybe it was just too mundane to explain the ache in your chest. “Oh—! Yeah, that’s right… sorry about that again.” You chuckled, but it was hollow, devoid of real humor.. You swore it wasn’t that..Or maybe it was just that. Was it?

Silence hung in the air after she whispered a quiet “it’s okay”

“Well, I'll let you get on your way. Thanks for letting Bread meet them” You said as you fought back tears before (quite literally) tugging Bread away

“No problem, I thank you too..” she called after you, her voice tinged with a sadness that matched your own.

You two began to part ways

Why did your heart hurt so bad? Why does it feel like the Earth itself is laying on your chest right now?

Tears cascaded down your cheeks as you fought tooth and nail to keep walking away, lightly tugging on Bread’s harness as he also wanted to go back

You were almost to the turn out of the park before you heard a voice yell a familiar name

“Tzuyu!” 

You froze, turning around slowly, your heart pounding in your chest. There she was. The lost memories of her rushed back into your mind. The woman from the bookstore, the bus, your dreams. Tears streaked her face, but she was smiling—a radiant, beautiful smile that lit up her entire face.

“My name is Tzuyu!” she said again, her voice trembling with emotion, a laugh escaping her lips as another tear raced down her dimpled cheek.

You felt your own smile forming, though it felt awkward and lopsided, as if you weren’t quite sure how to use your face anymore. “Tzuyu-ya!” you called back, your voice cracking with emotion.

“I feel… I feel like I know you!” you said, the words tumbling out of you, raw and desperate.

Her smile grew even wider, if that was possible. “I.. I feel the same way!” she replied, walking closer to you with each step.

“I think we finally found each other, Tzuyu.” You began closing the distance between you two

A tear slipped down her cheek, but she was smiling, a smile that spoke of happiness, of a future you could finally share.

“I’m so glad,” she whispered, stepping closer, her arms wrapping around you in a tight, desperate embrace. “I’m so glad I found you.”

You held her close, feeling her warmth, her heartbeat against yours while tears streamed down your face. The world seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you, together at last.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt at peace. The dreams, the longing, the months of searching—they had all led you here, to this moment, to her.

Finally, after all this time, you were home.