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axeoverblade · 11 months

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Classmate

PART ONE (CURRENT); PART TWO ; PART THREE

Earth 42! Miles Morales x fem! reader

Synopsis! For the life of you , you couldn’t understand why Miles had it out to get you so bad. If it wasn’t for the mid-year seat change, he wouldn’t have even acknowledged your existence.

MASTERLIST

Genre: light fluff, enemies to lovers like trope, light bully!Miles

Warnings: mentions of sa (nothing happens just mentioned), mentions of violence, maybe foul language but I think that’s it enjoy!

word count: 5k

Authors comment: I keep seeing School themed hcs and I had to say me sphewl(?), planned to be one shot but thinking about a part two. Sorry for any bad translations my Spanish is meh, please leave a like <3

It was known half way through the school year at Visions Academy the teachers changed the assigned seats. Being in your last hour, you were pretty much comfortable sitting next to almost anyone in the class.

Albeit, you did have a few in your mind you would rather not be sat with. Kids who didn’t like to do the group work, kids who talked too much, kids who always were trying to copy answers, etc.

The teacher went through the neatly organized desks column by column, starting on the left side closest to the door for the new seating chart. There were only four columns seeing as the wooden desks were double seated. You listened as she went through assigning kids to chairs, finally reaching the last column. There were about seven other kids along with you still waiting to be called to the four desks available. All the kids left were somewhat iffy options to be next to for the rest of the year.

…

Only you and three others were left. She called out to the second to last desk, “Amanda and John”. You sigh a breath of relief happy to not be sat next to John who had a crush on you, your thoughts replaying all the times he had tried to get with you. Feelings were not mutual. “ And Finally Y/n and Miles.”

You walked over to the seat from the front of the room, seeing the Miles kid already getting comfortable in his new seat closest to the wall.

You never had the chance to talk to Miles much. Actually, you don’t think you’ve ever talked to him. He was very reticent in the classroom. The moment he finished his work which was always relatively quick, he was out of the class leaving a few minutes to spare coming back before the bell rang.

There was a reason you never made an effort to talk to Miles. In fact, it was more like you endeavored to avoid him. His hedonistic friend group were known for being-, uncivil. They treated others horribly, always making someone do something that would make your stomach churn if you had to be the one to do it. And even though Miles was known to never actively participate in those things, anyone who hung around people who did those things were bound to start someday.

What confused you though, he was extremely smart unlike the jerks he was always with. You heard he was one of the highest scoring kids, every report card stamped with straight As. That wasn’t much at this school, almost everyone had straight As and high Bs, but all his grades averaged above 94.

There was also no denying he was very attractive. Surprisingly he was never seen with anyone romantically, unlike his friends who always had a girl or two under their arms. There were definitely people were lined up at his feet though, always trying to cling to him. He always just brushed them off, sometimes blunter than he needed to be.

You had seen it once, a girl you hadn’t really liked had gone up to him during passing period asking for his number only for him to look at her and walk right past her. All his friends and their shallow twats of girlfriends laughed at her, walking with Miles past her.

She cried in bathroom for forty minutes after.

You stood next to your seat, putting your bag down. “Hi I’m y/n” you said, formally introducing yourself to Miles for the first time. He looked up to you from his phone. You watched as he took his time studying you, making you slightly flustered as his eyes roamed your body. He looked back down at his phone, disregarding your presence. “I know.”

You blinked a few times processing the abrupt rudeness.

You rolled your eyes and whispered a few choice words to yourself about the interaction as you sat down, realizing you were stuck next to him for the rest of the year.

You pulled out your phone, texting your friend and roommate Mei, who was across the room, about how rude Miles was. She looked up, seeing you staring at her irritated. She giggled before texting back.

Mei: He so fine tho 😍 ask em if he needs a dog

You: Mei 💀

You: he’s so rude n for what? Like he could’ve just nodded or said his name. I know he got that whole “bad boy” thing goin but ain’t have to do allat

Mei: Ion know gl tho 💯

You: Ur no help 😭 Ima ask for a seat change

Mei: It's the first five minutes you have sat next to each other, maybe he is just nervous from ur emmense beauty 😩 I know I would be

Mei: PLUS u know Ms Reita does not b swappin seats. You know how many times I asked to be moved from Jessica only for her to say tuff luck and move on? Seventeen times. Just give it time n maybe it gets better you never know

You: 😐

You shook your head and put your phone down as the teacher started passing out the work. It was a normal worksheet due by the end of class. You went through, solving the easier problems before going back and finishing the ones you skipped.

You were on your last problem when Miles hand shot up lazily. Ms.Reita looked at him and sighed, knowing that he was going to leave for almost the rest of class period if she let him leave the room. “Is your worksheet finished?” “I wouldn’t be raisin’ my hand if it wasn’t.” “Watch it Morales, wouldn’t want to have to tell your Mom you have detention would you?” He sighed before mockingly smiling “sorry Ms.Reita, can I so humbly excuse myself?” He batted his eyelashes for extra effect, clearly tired of the interaction and ready to leave. She huffed as pointed to the door. You snickered to yourself watching the exchange. He looked at you, a glint of amusement washing over his eyes, but the look left as soon as it appeared. He looked away getting up and walking out.

You walked with Mei back to your shared dorm, talking about the nonsense that flooded your minds. Luckily for you, it was Friday and you could go home tonight, you just had to go grab your bag and you would be free from this hell hole.

…

“Alright Mei I’ll see you on Monday” you said, grabbing your suitcase and backpack, pulling it with you to leave. She smiled and waved, still packing. “Bye baby mama” you rolled your eyes playfully at what she said. She would constantly make jokes about how she could care for you and be your sugar momma, even though she was just as broke as you were.

You walked toward the lobby of the school, seeing the exit to the building so close. It felt like knowing air was near when you were drowning, finally being able to catch a break and breathe- “oh sorry baby girl, didn’t see you there.” You felt someone bump into you, too intentional for it to be accident. You cringed at the nickname and gathered yourself. Luckily you hadn’t fallen, just stumbled causing your bag to fall off you. “Don’t call me that John.” You said, picking up your bag and slinging it in on your shoulder. “You know you like it” he said, closer than he needed to be. Recoiling at the sound of him so close to your ear, you stuck your hand out and lightly pushed him further from you. “I really don’t, I already told you I want nothin’ to do with you.” You continued to walk to the exit, only for him to walk beside you. “Cmon baby I can show you the world, stop playing hard to get.” You looked at him, stopping in your tracks, “I’m not playing hard to get, this is me playing I don’t want you” “so you admit you're playing about not wanting me?” He said, smirking. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, just wanting to go home. “For the final time John, I am not interested.” You walked again, this time he didn’t follow because his friends were walking up to him. “I’ll see you on Monday baby!” He called out loudly, drawing attention to the both of you. You scowled and walked faster out the building, happy to not have to see John for a few days.

Unbeknownst to you, Miles was watching the interaction from the beginning, ignoring his friends talk about the girls that passed or the sexist comments they made. He noted how you reacted to John, how much disgust surged through your body language. He disliked John, but for separate reasons. John was one of those guys. Class A jock who didn’t know when to quit. Also didn’t know when to shut their mouths. Granted, those were the exact people he hung around. But at least he could tolerate their idiocy, and it was better than walking around the school alone all day. Only kid he hung around that wasn’t like that was his roommate Ganke.

He watched as you scowled and left the school. He shrugged minding his own business, zoning back into the conversation about who had the biggest boobs.

Monday rolled around quicker than you could’ve imagined. And it felt like a Monday, which never helped. You trudged into your last hour groggily, just wanting to be done with the day so you could go back to your dorm and sleep. Walking over to your seat, you looked at Mei across the room. She wiggled her eyebrows, mouthing for you to initiate conversation with Miles. You rolled your eyes, sitting down. Miles was sketching lightly on the worksheet already passed out on the desks. You tried to look at it, but the braid that draped over his shoulder covered your view. You didn’t want to seem invasive, so you just grabbed your sheet and began working.

Finishing the sheet quickly, you got on your phone, scrolling through your socials. You saw a news alert flash across the top of your screen, some message about “the prowler striking again” over the weekend. You swiped it away.

You didn’t hate the prowler in all honesty, but you would never admit that out loud. Whoever was under the mask did bad things, but usually only to bad people. Usually.

The police barely did anything anymore, making it hard to even go outside without getting mugged or groped or something bad. With the prowler being out and about, some idiots have been scared off the streets, enough to where you could at least walk to and from your family apartment to school. In your eyes, the vigilante kinda helped a little.

“Stop tapping, its annoyin” a voice rudely interrupted you from your thoughts. You looked over to see miles looking at you, semi-irritated. You hadn’t realized you were tapping the desk, something you did unconsciously when you were lost in your own mind. You pulled your hand back, putting it on your thigh, “my fault, ain need all that attitude though” you said looking at him. He rolled his eyes and started drawing again. “Whatcha’ sketching?” You asked, leaning towards him slightly. He looked at you with furrowed brows, blinking a couple of times, before going back to sketching ignoring your question. El tiene algunos nervios. Instead of just excusing his behavior like you did on Friday, you opted to invade his personal space; moving his braid, your head now hovering over his shoulder. He moved his body quickly, his reflexes faster than you could process. “Qué coño estás haciendo?” He said sternly, but you didn’t budge. “You didnt wanna respond” you said not looking at him, more focused on the drawing. “That ain’ answer my question” he said, you could feel the irritation laced in his voice, but instead of leaving him alone like he wanted, you grabbed the paper to get a better view. The drawing was a well portrayed mask of sorts, oddly similar to the prowlers, and a few weapons all sketched on the back of his paper. You raised your eyebrow at the drawing. He was actually really good at drawing, the detail for him to have started that less than twenty minutes ago impressed you. He snatched the paper back. You turned your head to him, seeing him looking at you with furrowed eyebrows, getting ready to say something. “Answer me next time and I won’t have to do that” you said before he could speak, a mocking smile laying on your lips. He rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath before going back to sketching.

One word, Regret.

You really wish you hadn’t decided to let you imaginary balls get the best of you. Because now Miles how a personal vendetta against you. Damn your pride. Within the span of few weeks he somehow had broken into your locker and trashed you books, he made sure it wasn’t anything that you couldn’t fix easily though, just a few torn pages. He constantly would shove you, which he mude sure to do lightly to not actually hurt you, into the lockers when he passed you in the nearly empty halls when he was with his friends. He would say the most outlandish things to you whenever you passed him when the halls were too crowded and others could see what he did. He made sure his friends didn’t mess with you though, knowing they would take it way too far how they had with the other kids they harassed. And even though you tried to ignore him the first few weeks hoping he would stop, he never did. You swore you could feel yourself loosing your mind.

Miles had only originally planned on pestering you for a day or two to get the point across that you should’ve left him alone, but then he realized how fun it was to provoke you. You became his entertainment, or at least that was the reason that he told himself he went out of his way to annoy you. And now that he had gotten on your last nerve, you were like a ticking time bomb every time.

You made school easier for him, giving him something to look forward to. Your reactions were always so animated, almost comical, making messing with you so funny. He didn’t just mess with you in sense of picking on you., he would mess with you feelings too. He looked for you in the halls just to go behind you and pull you by your backpack into him. You would lose your balance then he would put his hands on you waist to stabilize you, whispering in your the cusp of your ear sternly to “watch where you’re going mami”, a nickname he now would often call you just to see how irritated and flustered you would get. You would always reply with a snarky remark, something along the lines of “he pulled you into him”, always stuttering through the sentence no matter the amount of times he had done this to you, siempre fue tan mono a él. Something that unintentionally brought his face to a smirk was how you never mentioned anything about the nicknames he gave you like you did with John.

His friends would constantly make comments about how Miles liked you and now you were off limits, but every time he shot the idea down with a quick annoyed face. But perish the thought one of his friends gets talks about you the wrong way. They had seen the way Miles looked at the guy who had walked up to and called you pretty. Didn’t ask for your number, didn’t do anything weird, just called you pretty. The problem wasn’t even the compliment, it was how genuinely big you smiled but it wasn’t because of him.

Miles wasn’t going to deny he found you attractive. He had seen you the first day he walked into Vision academy a year ago and couldn’t get you out of his head for week. Hell you were probably the prettiest girl in the school, but maldito eres molestosa. When laying on the bed in his dorm room the nights he wasn’t out doing his prowler work, he could hear your pesky voice ringing in his ears, también pudo ver tu cara hermosa. He hated it. He hated how sometimes your face would pop up in his brain during a mission, and it would make him falter for a moment. Something as simple as hesitating, even for a millisecond, could’ve had him killed mid fight.

He didn’t actually care for you, at least that’s what he told himself. So you can understand why it bothered him so much that he hated weekends now, knowing it was extra days where he couldn’t see you, feel you. Even if it was just a brush on the shoulder when doing partner work, or him shoving you lightly when walking past, glaring at you like you were the one that bumped into him.

It annoyed you to no end you were stuck next to him for the rest of the year. What annoyed you even more was how attracted you were to him. He was so dismissive toward you, and for some reason you would sit in your room giggling with Mei about how his laugh, even though the only reason you had heard it was because he was making fun of you, was the most attractive thing you have ever heard.

…

Luckily today was Friday so you could enjoy the weekend.

It had been a few months since you had been moved next to Miles, a few months since you decided to overstep a boundary you wish you hadn’t, a few months since you’ve been slowly loosing your sanity. Miles had taken it upon himself to mess with you in class, staying for almost the whole period now a days to do just that.

“If you would finish your work then we could be done already” you mumbled under your breath, looking at the shared work you had to do that Miles hadn’t even looked at, too engrossed in his phone. The two of you had been going back and forth since the start of class, now only roughly fifteen minutes left. He looked up to you, squinting from annoyance, “do you ever just, I don’t know, close your mouth?”. You rolled your eyes “If you, I don’t know, finish your half so I can go turn this in then yea maybe I would.” He scoffed, pulling the paper closer to him. A few minutes passed and he slid the paper over to you “don’t say anything else”. You looked at the paper, seeing he had completed his half of the work in record time, you must really annoy him. “Well if you just did that earlier” you said sarcastically, picking up the paper and walking over to the turn in bin, placing the paper in it.

As you walked back to your seat, John started to talk to you. You pursed your lips, walking past him heading to your seat behind him. That didn’t stop him, as all he did was turn his chair around to face you. “So the party is tonight, you can come-” he paused, putting emphasis on the word winking at you, hinting at something else. You looked at him disgusted. “And we can have a lot of fun, perfect chance for you to see how much you truly like me.” You blinked a few times, “yea no” was all you said before looking at your phone. You didn’t fail to hear the small, quiet breathy laugh that fell from Miles lips as he stared at his phone, overhearing the conversation. His laugh alone could make your knees buckle. You quickly brought yourself back to reality, not letting your mind flow with any positive thoughts about Miles. “Cmon’ baby, promise I’ll show you a good time.” “Ain’ I tell you not to call me that?” You said, annoyed that John just couldn’t leave you alone. “You know we locked in, you keep playin.” “John-” “aight hear me out, you come to the party, if you don’t have a nice time -which I can guarantee you will- I’ll leave you alone, how does that sound?” “You’ll leave me alone?” You said, intrigued by the offer. “If you come.” You sighed, “lemme ask my momma.” He smiled widely, happy to have finally convinced you. Miles secretly looked between the two of you with his eyebrows furrowed, thinking how pathetic John was.

A few minutes passed as John sat facing you, waiting for a response. You sighed, causing him to perk up. “I need to be home by 11, and you have to send me the address. My mom also needs your number and your mommas number, comprende?” He nodded quickly, typing all the information into your phone so you could send it to your mom. You sent the message, already regretting your decision.

Sure enough.

You sped walk home, the time nearing 10:45. Wiping the tear that trickled down your cheek, you scoffed. The party started off great, you and John had a great time, initially.

Then things got weird, he tried to take you to a bedroom upstairs, you declined, him being intoxicated, grabbed you forcefully to take you up. You were glad you were taught basic self defense. You kneed him in the bolas and grabbed your bag, quickly leaving. You wondered what would’ve happened if you had dranken something, where you wouldn’t have been fully aware of your surroundings. You hurrying to dismiss the thought, happy to be out the party

Normally you would be much more aware of the world around you, had you not been so lost in your thoughts. “Hey there pretty lady” you heard, you couldn’t catch a break tonight. You started walking quicker, almost jogging with your eyes focused ahead of you, as you just wanted to get home safely. “You ain’t hear us talkin to you?” Your eyes widened at the mention of us, realizing there was more than one. You searched for your switch blade that would usually be inside your pocket, but it was no where to be found. You figured it must’ve fallen out at the party, you silently cursed to yourself. Three men were now matching your speed, and suddenly were next to you.

“What’s a little momma like you doing out here all alone, don’t you know there’s bad guys out here?”

“Don’t worry baby, we’ll keep you safe”, they grabbed you forcefully covering your mouth so you wouldn’t alert anyone, not like anyone would help. They pulled you to the nearest alley. You bit the hand of whoever was covering your mouth, causing them to let go of your face. You took this as an opportunity to scream for dear life, only to be smacked into a state of drowsiness. You quickly shook yourself out of it, feeling the stinging sensation spread across your face. Your ear was ringing lightly, and you could’ve sworn this dude knocked your tooth loose. You spit at the guy across from you, seeing bloody saliva land on his face. The guy behind you who was holding you let go and moved to the side. Before you could react to the new found freedom, you were pushed roughly into the wall behind you. “Tonto puta, all you had to do was cooperate” the guy in front of you said, wiping the spit off his face.

Ready to accept whatever was going to happen, you closed your eyes and scrunched your face, only to hear screams of pain from the three men, followed by an uncanny silence.

You opened your eyes, seeing the prowler standing where the man in front of you once was with a bloody claw. The three men were laying on the ground, damn near lifeless. Your eyes widened, your mouth parting from the sight. The vigilante stared at you, you could see the eye like symbols displayed on the mask slightly widened at the sight of the hand-mark on your face before recomposing into a stoic, neutral setting. You were too shocked, and mostly scared to say anything.

The figure got closer, to which you could work out was a male. You took note of the two braids cascading down their neck behind the mask, as well as the oddly clean Jordan’s they sported. You didn’t have much time to take in their lanky appearance, as they took a final step towards you, making it so you had to look up at their mask. Their presence loomed over you eerily. You gaped at him, your pleading eyes filled with fear. You knew he wasn’t necessarily a villain per say, closer to the flip side if anything. He did just save you. But the thought of an individual being so much more powerful than you, knowing that at any moment he would always in control no matter what you did, threw your brain into a constant state of unease. Feeling your heart beating out your chest, you raised your hands lightly placing it on their chest to stop them from getting any closer, even though you knew they could easily overpower you no matter what you did. His heartbeat was slow, almost calming to feel. “Please” you whispered, voice barely leaving your larynx.

As quickly as he had come he left. You looked around, finally spotting him lurking on top of the building across from you, crouching along the ledge looking at you. You looked at the Prowler one last time, making eye contact with their mask silently mouthing a ‘thank you’. He flipped away to wherever else he goes, not acknowledging your gratitude. You nearly collapsed, sliding down the wall. Your hands aggressively wiped your face before meeting your hairline, resting there as you breathed ruggedly. The adrenaline you had was wearing off, and the bruises the men left you with became more prominent on your skin, as well as more painful. At least your opinion about the prowler was correct, he was a good guy after all, to you at least.

Returning to school on Monday was a catastrophe, news spread like wildfire about you being attacked by the three men, as well as your encounter with the Prowler. Random people were approaching you asking what is what like and other random questions revolving around your attack. No one however, was talking about what happened at the party. But you couldn’t blame them, not many people saw what had happened.

…

It was finally the last period. You wanted nothing more for this to blow over, and for you to be done with the day back in your dorm. You walked in, wavering slightly seeing John leaning on your desk. You noticed Miles sitting in his seat on his phone, eye bags deeper than usual.

You quickly sat down, trying your best to ignore John's attempts to talk to you.

“Y/n please it was an accident-”

You ignored him getting your pencil out of the top zipper of your bag.

“Y/n please just listen I was drunk and I didn’t know what I was doing you gotta believe me” he leaned toward to take your hand, causing you to flinch and pull back. You looked at him angrily “you think being drunk excuses anything?” Your voice was calm and almost at a whisper despite how you felt, trying your best to draw the least amount of attention. He sighed desperately, “No it doesn’t but you gotta see it from my perspective-” “what perspective John?!? The one where you tried to force yourself on me? Or the one where you tried to take me upstairs against my will? I swear if you come near me again, I won’t hesitate to cut your polla off, comprende?” Ms. Reita asked everyone to take their seats, causing John to look at you solemnly before scoffing and turning to his seat.

You huffed, putting your head between your crossed arms on the table. “What happened at the party?” You looked over to Miles surprised. You hadn’t expected him to ask you any questions, but if he did you figured it would be something about the prowler incident. “Nothin’.” You said dismissively. He looked at you skeptically. Before you could even react, he grabbed your phone off the desk and tucked it in his pocket. “You ain’ gettin’ it back til you tell me what happened.” “Why do you care so much?” “Your wrinkles n’ dark circles look worse than usual, wanna know why.” “Could say the same for you” he looked at you blankly. You sighed, “John got a lil’ too handsy is all, don’t worry ‘bout it. Can I have my phone back-“ “mami, how handsy?” His stern voice caught you off guard. He looked at John's direction for a split second, you could’ve sworn you’d seen Miles look at John with a look of determined death. He looked back at you eyebrows furrowed, “he tried to take me upstairs n’ I wasn’t feelin’ it, so he tried to make me” you uttered, a little quieter towards the end of your sentence. “Left before he could do anything” you finished, “can I get my phone back now?” You looked at him tiredly. He let out a simple huh and gave you your phone back, his full attention now on johns figure ahead in the seat diagonally ahead of him.

…

The class had been dismissed, luckily Miles had decided to leave you alone today, you were too tired to deal with his antics anyway. Walking over to Mei dismissing John's stare, you two began walking out of the class heading to the lobby so you head back to your dorm room. As you were walking back Mei stopped at a vending machine to get a couple snacks for the dorm so you two could have a movie night. You waited as she inserted her money, clicking which snacks you both liked to buy them. As she was stuffing the snacks in her bag zipping it up, a student screamed “FIGHT”. You looked over seeing a crowd forming and walked over to see what was happening. Bullying your way to the front you saw Miles on top of John, pounding John's blood stricken face damn near permanently into the floor. Your eyes enlarged at the sight. Miles was clearly irate, and from the looks of it, had no plans of stopping. A security guard quickly ran in and grabbed miles off John's limp body. Miles spit at John, yelling something at him in Spanish that you couldn’t hear over the commotion. You looked at John's body, seeing him look almost unconscious as he coughed violently and rested on his elbows, trying to catch his breath. You gaped at Miles, shock written all over your face. His chest rose and fell quickly as he looked around the room seeing all the people watching. His eyes stopped as they met yours, his gaze softening slightly before he looked away. A huff fell from his lips as he was dragged to the principal's office. He jerked his arm away, muttering something about how he knew how to walk.

John had to be sent to the hospital.

Miles was in the principal's office, sitting silently as John's parents screamed at the principal while Miles’s mother sat next to him upset. “My child is a great kid! And how is he supposed to feel safe in this school anymore knowing this can happen again, huh?” John's mom spewed mindlessly, ranting about how she was going to press charges. Miles scoffed, causing Rio to look at him with a look of “watch your mouth before I watch it for you.” He just looked down at his hands in his lap.

Miles walked out of the classroom to head back to his shared dorm. He couldn’t get out of his mind what John had done to you. As vague as your response was, he knew more had happened between you and John. He didn’t know why it bothered him so deeply, it wasn't even really his business. He knew the thought of someone being touched like that made him upset, but he felt pure outrage from this specifically, and he knew deep in his heart it was because it was because it was you who had gone through it.

As much as he hated to admit it, he knew he felt something different for you when he intervened the night the three men attacked you. He almost added three bodies to his belt, for you.

Usually, as bad as it sounds, he would mostly let people get robbed or thrown around in alleyways. He would help occasionally if it sounded gruesome or of dire need for assistance. But he had to save his city from the sinister six, and petty crimes that were bound to happened weren’t the ideal way to do that. But the voice screaming sounded familiar, kinda sounded like you. The thought of you being in danger offset his nerves, and he knew a you were going to a party that night so he went, just to check.

Sure enough.

He stalked you from above the rest of your walk home just to make sure nothing else happened.

He walked into the lobby consumed by his own thoughts, snapping back to reality as he overheard John talking to his friends about how “y/n finally let me hit, she was so tight-”. He paused in his tracks. Ain’ no way acaba de escuchar lo que pensó que hizo. He turned to the direction of John's voice, this was now his business. He walked over, becoming increasingly irate the more John talked about “how much you loved it”. John turned, hearing footsteps approaching alarming quickly. He saw Miles, John knew Miles had heard about what really happened at the party. John scoffed, somewhat anxious he had been caught in his lie and afraid Miles would try to embarrass him in front of his friends. He quickly spoke before Miles even had the chance to say a word,“You ain’ needed here Miles-” John was cut off by a fist colliding with his face, not what he was expecting at all. Johns friends gasped or yelled in shock, Miles didn’t stop though. Miles didn’t even say anything, small grunts of anger being the only thing leaving his lips as John hit the floor. Miles siguan latiendo la mierda fuera de él.

“What you won't even speak huh?” John's mom said, facing Miles. He furrowed his eyebrows at her. “You wanna send my baby boy to the hospital and have no reason why? Why are you picking on my kid huh? You-” “You think your kid is the best thing on Gods green earth”Miles scoffed, cutting her off. “Cause he is, my kid wouldn’t hurt a fly and you-”“your oh so wonderful kid tried to rape a girl then went around yappin’ bout’ how much she enjoyed it.” The room fell silent. The principal eyes went wide, “Uh-Uhm, how about we resume this tommorow-” “well hold on,” Rio spoke for the first time, “My son intervened and helped someone in danger because their son was making girls unsafe in the school? Why is he being punished?” “Well Mrs.Morales we didn’t know that happened-” “so you immediately assumed my son was the cause of this not even getting evidence before?” “Well he did start-” “uhn-uh, their child is making the school more unsafe than Miles ever did. Why aren’t they being scolded for this?”

The principal apologized, saying Miles would be suspended for the rest of the week for starting the fight, but no charges could be pressed to avoid anybody getting into serious trouble.

Miles sat in the passenger seat of his moms car, the leather caressing his skin as he looked out the window. A hushed silence had fallen over the two a while ago. Silence is always worse than actually being screamed at, the anticipation is always so suffocating. “So.. who’s the girl?” His mom said, looking at the road ahead. Miles glanced at her before looking back out the window, “classmate.” She nodded, humming. Rio knew her son, and she knew Miles wouldn’t damn near end a kids life just just for some classmate.

“Ella tiene un nombre?” He sighed lightly, “Y/n.” Rio nodded and hummed again, looking at miles through the corner of her eye. “At some point throughout the week, I expect her over for dinner.” “I don’t even have her number, how is she supposed to know” Rio clicked her teeth and smirked,

“Encontrarás una manera”.

©axeoverblade

#42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 #miles morales #spiderman #spiderman into the spiderverse #prowler miles #prowler x reader #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #miles 42 #42 miles morales #miles x reader #miles x y/n #miles x you #kyoutani x reader #miles morales x y/n #cute #drama

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starillusion13 · 5 months

Note

cold husband mafia mingi x reader where they get into an argument then the reader is kidnapped and gets hurt infront of him and falls unconscious give me all the angst you’ve got 🫶🏻

I AM LOST...

Pairing: Mafia husband! Mingi x Wife!reader

Genre: Angst, Mafia, Family au

W.C: 4.2k

Warnings: arguments b/w husband and wife, neglection of married life, mention open cuts with knife, kidnapping, get shot, blood loss. Regret.

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated . Applause to the ones who come up to me to interact and they know how friendly I am. Okay enough!

“Why don’t you understand?”

You angrily put down the phone on your bed and brushed back the loose hairs from your face. You know it’s not a certain thing for you to be in this situation but you didn’t expect that even today also, he was going to treat it as the usual day. You were not expecting much from him but at least he could have tried to appreciate your efforts for the night.

You glanced at the clock and looked down at your long-slit dress for the night hugging your body. Few moments back, your mirror reflected the beauty of the night with a bright smile adorning your look but now your face reflecting the sadness. Sadness or loneliness.

Throwing the heels to the side of the room, you picked up the night sleep-gown to get change into it. Taking the phone in your hand, you checked through the notifications for the last time for the day, there’s still no texts from him of changing his mind. So, you are just going to sleep without even eating the dinner. You have already texted the restaurant to cancel your booking for the night and paid extra charges for the arrangements before heading to the bathroom.

It’s been an hour that you have locked yourself inside the bathroom when you heard a faint knock. When you turned off the tap, you could hear the light banging at the door.

“Who is there?”

“Ma’am, Is everything okay? I was calling you for last ten minutes and sorry to enter the room without the permission but I was worried for you.”

Oh. You were zoning out and didn’t hear your name being called. You could hear the worriedness in your maid’s voice and she is the only one who knows to accompany you even when she is busy or having her special days. Atleast, she understands you and knows what you are going through in your life. You literally envy her as she is not rich like you but having a nice and moderate life where she is actually happy unlike you who don’t know about happiness after the marriage.

“Ma’am?”

“I’m okay. Just need some time alone and I’ll be fine.”

You heard a faint ‘okay’ and click of your bedroom door shut. You sighed and stared at the mirror for few minutes before heading outside the bathroom. Slow footsteps took you near the window where you could see the view of the busy streets of the city. Your one hand resting on the glass window looked like as if you are caged in the room, maybe you are, just the way you are restricted to this marriage.

When you heard your maid calling out your name again, you let her in but still facing the window. You have tried not to show your vulnerable state to her but everytime you failed and cried to her. She was always there to comfort you, even today as well.

“Are you crying?”

You glanced at your reflection to the side, you could see a tear-line down on your cheeks and your fingers raised up to feel it. To feel the pain of your silent scream.

“I don’t know but why am I even crying?”

The mother like figure setting the food on the corner table, made her way towards you. She sympathetically smiled at you and when she reached near you, patting your head and taking hold of your one hand, brought you to sit on the edge of the bed. You stared at the hold and silent tears fell on top of it.

“Am I not worthy for his time?” you asked in a hushed voice.

She rubbed your palms and hummed, “It’s not about your worth my dear. He is just distant from everything. You know when I first came into this house to work, I thought he really hate me as his maid or he doesn’t like a particular thing about me which is why he is being so cold to me. But gradually I got to know him, he is just a man who grew up as a child neglected by the family and so he doesn’t know how to really express himself.”

“But I am his wife. Does he not care about this? If he didn’t want to marry then why making my life miserable.” You gulped the lump in your throat and inhaled the sob that could tear out any time. You just want a little time of his where you can spend some time like a couple and talk about our married life.

“I know, Y/N. It’s really hard for you but some things need time.”

“It’s been one year…” you looked at her and she nodded.

“I hope he would soon see how he is ignoring a beautiful soul like you. He really loves you though or he wouldn’t have done so much to keep you safe here. He is just scared to open up with you as his parents never listened to him so he thinks that you might behave like them as well. As it was a contract marriage so he thinks you are with his parents but trust me, his first priority is you.”

You chuckled bitterly, “Never. His first priority is this mafia business which would never let him to come closer to me. He is just doing everything because this is his house and his properties which are needed to be kept safe-“

“And you are my wife.”

Both of you turned towards the door to see the man in messed up condition standing at the doorway with his coat in one hand and placing the gun in the drawer of the table near the corner table.

The maid stood up and excused herself to leave the room, leaving you with Mingi. When passing him, she asked quietly if he had eaten but he just shook his head and told not to bring him dinner, everything inaudible to you.

His eyes look tired and hairs disheveled, lazily he threw the tie on the sofa and walked towards the mirror. Your eyes following his movements and when he caught you looking at him through the mirror, you didn’t look away but locked your eyes with his.

“Your wife?” a hatred filled undertone spilled from your mouth.

He waited to see if you wanted to say anything more but only tears flowing down your eyes. The only thought came across his mind was how he had messed up today, the very first anniversary of both of yours. The mission was important but he couldn’t suddenly let the enemies know that they have a hole of his absence and take advantage of his gang, as he is the main snipper of the Mafia ‘Ateez’.

“Yes.” His eyes glanced at the food kept covered at the corner table and sighed, “Eat your food. I had my dinner earlier and you should not sleep in empty stomach.”

“I would rather die than eating dinner.”

Your words somehow hit a nerve inside him as he skipped towards and made you stand up, gripping your shoulders tightly. “What did you just say?”

You tried to read him but you could only see fire eyes staring back at you. You glanced at the grip on the shoulders and saw few cuts on his knuckles and wrists, maybe the mission didn’t succeed. So what? He is now going to show his frustration on you?

“I can’t live like a stranger in this house even when I’m living with the person, I got married to last year. Have you ever considered our life in a serious way or it’s just a contract mission for you. You could have said before our marriage then I would have done something to prevent it. Why was it necessary to make my life miserable for your mafia business?”

You were shouting on his face and you could see his furrowed brows and piercing eyes searching for your every emotion. His grip on you loosened and you swatted his hands away from you.

“Y/n…”

“Stop it. I’m tired of listening to your same excuses.” You pushed your hairs back and continued, “This mission was important. I’m doing things which is good for us. Same words.”

Mingi exhaled and proceeded to remove the wrist watch.

“You know it’s not an easy thing to be the part of a gang member and also maintain the family. You need to understand some things. Don’t act childish and whine for little things.”

“little things? You are an emotionless monster, Mingi. Do you even care about other’s feelings?” You rubbed your eyes with your sleeves, “I tried to understand your situation before. Everytime whenever I got disappointed with your attitude, I tried to convince myself that everything would be okay once the missions get over. But never.”

“This is my life, Y/n.”

“and what about my life? Before the marriage I dreamt of getting a husband who would be caring and loving to me. I never wanted money or a luxurious life to show off people but I wanted someone who will stay with me, understand me. Mingi please, I’m tired of all these.”

He stayed silent.

“I’m really a monster. Don’t forget I’m a member of ‘Ateez’ so I should not have feelings for anything and of course, I can’t be available like the other husbands. I gave you everything. I bought you all the things you have ever wanted, I have taken you to all the places you have wanted to visit and still here you are complaining about your life.” He has never shouted at you and today the way he raised his voice has reached the limit.

“Mingi……I need love.” You whispered the words. You just want to disappear from this place at that moment. He has heard what you had said and he stopped in his track entering the bathroom.

“Y/n, why can’t you understand that-“

“STOP! I am fed up with this. I’m leaving this place right now. Don’t try to find me unless you know how to become a husband.”

You grabbed your phone and purse laying on the sofa and slide the jacket hanging on the hook and slammed shut the door. Mingi stared at the door through which just now you have exited. A tear drop fell from the eye. Not your, but his. He is crying. He brings his finger to feel the tears on his cheeks. He deserves it.

“I’m sorry….”

He threw the towel on the bed and quickly dialled a number and waited impatiently for the other line to pick it up.

“Hello? Is anything wrong?”

“Yunho, please track Y/n’s number and see where she is going. I know she must be going to her best friend’s house but she was restless when she left the house so I hope she doesn’t do anything stupid and go to her house safely.”

“Mingi, calm down. I will keep a watch on her. And, you still didn’t apologize right? She needs you, Mingi. You are her husband and you know she is not used to this kind of dark life yet her parents forced her into this but you need to remember, she is that bubbly Y/n from our class and she deserves happiness. I hope after she comes back to you, you treat her the right way. Right way I meant, you will give her all the love she needs and deserves.”

“I know… please keep a watch on her.”

“I will.”

After hanging up the call, he stared at the phone screen and unconsciously, he tapped on your name to call you but his finger hovered over the call sign and sighed. You wouldn’t pick up and he made a mental note to bring you back.

After a while when he exited the bathroom, he glanced at the bed. Usually, he would find you sleeping or scrolling through the phone. Your food still kept in the corner, getting cold just like the relationship between you both. It would not be a surprise if you leave him at this point because it would be all his fault after all. It’s surprising how you are a carefree, bubbly and a sunshine girl got entangled with confined, ruthless and cold boy.

He has always watched you since the middle school and he envied how cheerful you always were unlike him, who had to hide the mafia family business and always acting cold towards everyone. Never in a while, he thought that he would be marrying you in the future and now here you are both struggling in your life. And moreover, he is the one destroying your butterflies and rainbows with the thunderstorm of his coldness.

The bedroom door slammed open and the maid supported herself at the doorframe and spoke between the heavy breathes, “Sir Yunho is here. He is calling you urgently.”

Mingi threw the towel on the bed and signalled her to go along with him. Meanwhile, he asked her if she knows the reason for his urgency but the words came out her mouth made his heart beat stop for a moment.

“It’s about Y/n.”

He inhaled sharply before almost running to the living room where Yunho was sitting in a messed up state and looking at the phone screen. Mingi took large steps towards the man sitting on the sofa and grabbed his collar to make him stand.

“where is Y/n? I told you to keep a watch on her then what went wrong?”

Yunho held the wrist and tried to calm him down but he himself was sick worried of the thing that happened earlier.

“Mingi, I was tracking her location as you told me but suddenly, she changed her direction to a different road and I quickly went there with Jongho as it was the way leading to the highway where all the deals happen at night.”

“Why was she going there?”

“I didn’t know why she suddenly went there but when I reached her last location, she was not there and I found her phone lying at the side of the road and I saw a number texted her to go there who pretended as you. She trusted the text that you were asking her to meet and you would be apologizing for everything. We need to do something.”

Mingi didn’t know what to think at the moment. Should he scold you for believing any number to be him? Or should he just shoot everyone here and there just to find you quickly? He brushed the damp hairs back and took heavy breathes to calm him down to come up with a better plan as panicking is not a mafia thing and he needs to think wisely so that you don’t get hurt.

Yunho got a call from one of his gang members and conversing over the call, he turned towards his other mate. He watched how he was being so impatient for his wife. Even if he doesn’t show any feelings but deep down, he loves his wife the most. He is just scared not to harm her in the flow of his mafia life. He wants to keep you as bubbly as the childhood Y/n but he is hurting you in the process.

“Hey.” Mingi looked up to his member’s call. “Jongho has tracked the message number id and it’s from the District-9 and it only means there is one person who could have kidnapped her. It’s Bangchan and his gang members to take revenge for the last month’s mission.”

“I will go there and take her back. I need to leave right now.”

“Are you stupid? If he attacks you then neither you are getting her back nor you will be safe.”

“You don’t tell me what to do now. I don’t care to spend time coming up with a plan. Y/n is in danger and she is scared.”

Even when Yunho tried to stop him, Mingi harshly pushed him away and sprint towards the garage to get into his black car. His black outfit blending with the cold dark night. Even the roads through which he was driving through were silent but he was in chaos. Many thoughts passing through his mind and he was just praying that you were safe.

“Please wait for a while…I’m coming, Y/n.”

He drove the car faster.

“Well my little angel, is the cut burning?”

Your teary eyes looked up to the voice who was calling you with an endearment but mocking at you. The leader of this new gang and you just know only his name, Bangchan as others were just calling each other with code numbers.

“Please…I want to go home…It’s hurting please…” you tried to pry yourself off from the ropes binding you to the chair but your weak body couldn’t go against it and the cuts over your hands and legs were burning with your every little movement.

“It would have been easy if you would have told me the details of your husband’s base but your stubbornness is only causing you pain so my boys had to torture you like this. So, are you willing to speak now?”

He gripped your jaw harshly and brought his face near to yours. You shook your head to avoid him but he held you tighter.

“TELL ME!”

“I don’t know…”

“I swear-“ Before he could finish both of you hear loud screaming and shootings outside. He stared at you and held the gun towards you when he heard footsteps nearing the basement.

Within the seconds, the door kicked open by Mingi. At first, he didn’t notice you but when his gaze fell on Bangchan, the latter smirked and looked below when he followed the gaze, he watched how helpless and tiredly you were tied to the chair.

what the fuck…

“So, the snipper of Ateez is here without the invitation. Oh, wife pulled you here but as far as I have heard, it doesn’t really matter to you what’s going to happen to her.”

“Shut up.” He hissed.

Mingi took one step and you screamed in pain. It pierced his ears and heart at the same time. He is used to your laugh, your smile, your shouts, your complains but your scream in pain is not the thing he ever wanted to hear. It’s too painful for him. Maybe, because he is the snipper so he is not used to hear anyone’s pain from so close. No, its because it’s you who is screaming.

“Take one more step. You will see more fresh new cuts.”

His eyes scanned your whole body, Your sleeves and edges of the dress had patches of blood. Earlier in hurry, you changed into this light peach colour dress but he didn’t expect it to be covered in dirt and blood later the night.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me.” He again cut open a line of skin on your forearm. Your scream again filled the room, deafening every other sound to his ears. Mingi balled his fist and gritted his teeth.

You haven’t asked for his help. Why? It’s because you don’t trust him or you still couldn’t believe that he was there to save you not for his mafia business.

“Mingi…please help me…”

That was the only push he needed to run towards the leader and punched him. This caused Bangchan to lose his grip on the knife and gun. He wiped off the blood from the corner of his lip and glared towards Mingi and the latter again punched him on the floor. Satisfied, he crawled towards your chair and starts to untie the ropes and chain. You were trying to stay awake but the blood loss was making it hard. Prying everything off from you, he hugged your weak body and rubbed your back.

“It’s okay, Y/n. Don’t be scared. I’m here.”

You didn’t reply but you were focusing on something, rather someone. Bangchan was pointing his gun towards Mingi’s back and when you realized, your eyes went big and you managed to switch the sides and as soon as your back facing the leader, he shot the bullet.

Who got shot?

You.

You leaned towards Mingi and held his biceps tighter. The pain was much worse than the previous cuts but somewhere you were feeling a relief that finally you would be at peace.

Bangchan ran away from the basement but that didn’t matter to the man who was in shocked to see you dying in his arms.

No. he can’t just let you die like this. He needs to apologize. He needs to make up for all the mistakes he has done.

He carried you to his car and Yunho followed him. Earlier four Ateez members followed Mingi and they helped him to attack on the District-9 basement.

“I will drive. Keep her awake until we reach hospital.”

Getting inside the car, he was calling out your name frantically and you have never seen him like this. For you.

“I want to sleep.”

“No no please. You will sleep but for a while please hold on. Don’t close your eyes please. Stay with me Y/n…”

Your cold hand reached to his cheeks and rubbed the rough skin.

“Are you crying for me? Am I being a bad wife?”

“No. you are the best wife ever someone wanted. It was me who was bad for neglecting you. Please stay with me…”

“I love you, Mingi.”

You closed your eyes and your breathing almost became faint. Mingi panicked at the situation but when Yunho pulled the car in front of the hospital. Without wasting any time, he skipped towards the emergency room with you in his arms. Of course, this was their personal Mafia Base Hospital and no one would dare to stop him.

Its been an hour when the doctor came out the room informed Mingi that you were in a critical situation as the bullet has damaged some area around it and your blood loss adding the worst possibilities to it. He was on the verge of losing control but after Yunho’s request, they let him to meet you.

You were sleeping peacefully. You wanted to sleep and now you are sleeping. He chuckled bitterly to this thought. He sat on the stool by the side of your bed and held your weak palm between his shaking ones.

“I’m sorry…”

Tears fell on the hold. Your breathings were very faint but as far as he could hear the sound, it was a little relief to him.

“I was scared, Y/n. I have seen you since the middle school and you were always the bright sunshine and I was the dark coldness. We never matched with each other but yet you smiled towards me.”

He sobbed before continuing, “When I got to know that you will be my wife. I had two feelings, one to be scared like how to take care of a family apart from the mafia life and the second, I was happy for the first time that I’m getting someone like you in my life. If the marriage was not important then I would have tried my best to keep you far away from someone like me, never to get involved with me.”

He paused for a moment to stare at you. Your beautiful face covered with cuts and now having antiseptic creams on them but he could feel the burning pain you had went through before. He caressed the side of your face and head. Smiling a little. Hoping for you to wake up and hug him and forgive him. He knows he doesn’t deserve the forgiveness so soon but just wants to see your lively face and smile once again. He needed to prove you his love and he swear he would do anything for you to see happy and not to be in this situation again. NEVER AGAIN.

“You are a treasure in my life whom I tried to protect so hard that the pressure broke it in the end. I destroyed you with my own hands. You are my queen but I caged you like a prisoner. Please wake up, Y/N. I can’t live without you. All these years, I have watched you from afar but when you are near, I am lost.”

He waited for you as if you are going to reply him back like other times. He wants you to shout at him, hit him, do whatever to make him realize your worth but he couldn’t afford to see you sleeping on a hospital bed, supported by some machines. Every drop of blood is precious than the most expensive ruby to him.

“I’m lost with you. I’m lost without you. For you I’m lost. I love you, Y/n. You are the only warmth in my cold life.”

‘I love you, Mingi.’ This was the last thing he heard faintly from you and your voice echoing inside his head.

“Please, don’t leave me. I want to change myself for you.” He planted a soft kiss on the back of your hand and tears falling from his eyes continuously.

You need to wake up or his coldness will make him lost in the void from where no one can ever bring him back. You are his first love and you can’t be the first reason to hate love.

I hope you liked it anon <3. I was really down while writing it coz about that post who insulted me for writing ffs so If the fic is not how you wanted then please wait for other fics, I will surely try to do better.

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades [open!]

#cultofdionysusnet #kvanity #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez au #ateez mingi #ateez angst #ateez x you #ateez fic #mingi x reader #mingi ateez #mingi scenarios #mingi angst #mingi imagines

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lazyneonrabbitt · 2 months

Text

Rough times.

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Requested: Hi! Would you be willing to maybe do a one shot with Daryl x reader in a pre established relationship but the reader is pregnant with a child that doesn't belong to him and she isn't proud of? (non-con if you're comfortable with that) Some angst about the reader being worried he won't love her once he finds out 👀

Warning: Non-con, unwanted pregnancy, some angst but happy ending.

What you had with Daryl started early on at the quarry. You were one of the few who didn't look at the Dixons with disgust and actually appreciatwd their hunting efforts and looked past the less than pleasant habits the older brother had.

After Daryl returned injured from his search for Sophia, you were his primary caretaker seeing he was calmest around you. By the time he got back to good health you were officially boyfriend and girlfriend.

Only you two knew, no one else really noticed much of a difference seeing you still slept in your own tents and never kissed. You were both too new to relationships and seeing Daryl needed to get used to being no longer on his own you agreed to let it all take as long as it needed.

When you arrived at the prison and cleared it enough to call home you shared a cell. Well, you slept in the cell in front of where Daryl laid out his matres and he used your cell to change and store his items.

By now you ate breakfast together and paired up on guard shifts. You were always at the gate to welcome him back after hunts and eventually he's always stick around after bringing you the meat at the outside kitchen after taking in the woodbury folks.

Yet still you were at loving smiles and shoulder touches, sometimes the short hug goodnight.

It was only the night before the prison fell you shared your first kiss.

And then you were on your own.

The Governor attacked and ended any posibility of returning to the prison and all you heard between the chaos was "RUN!" so you ran. You ran like crazy until you couldn't anymore and realized how screwed you were without your group.

It wasn't long before you were starving and tired, swaying in your walk to a point of not even noticing the men approaching you and catching you mid fall until you were in his arms. Your vision faded and you were out cold, not catching the man's words.

"Claimed."

When you woke up you were in a warehouse with a bunch of strange men and your guts told you to run. Run and find Daryl, or anyone from your group. Except you never made it far seeing they had plans for you.

One of them came to fetch you, held your wrists together behind your back and held you out for the others to stare. Then they started to offer things to the one holding you. Crazy stuff like weapons and food rations that would last a single person a week easily. The whole situation just kept getting worse and worse up to the point of you learning they were offering trades.

Trades of material worth to get time with you. And each trade was accepted and ranked from best to worst.

Ranked in what order they got to fuck you after the one who claimed you had finished.

You couldn't remember when or how long you were passed out when you were woken up by your owner, telling you to dress for a little trip.

He took you to a house not far from their warehouse spot and while he sounded kind and offered you food he only brought you there for some private one on one time..

You tried to stay strong, keeping faith in the fact that Daryl would find you and suffer theough this with the least possible resistance.

Lucky for you the house wasn't empty and just when your captor was going to make amove he was downed by no one else than Rick.

You cried the second he came into view. Letting it all out and dropping to your knees, clamped to his leg you sobbed inyo thr fabric of his pants. And he let you. He gave you the time to let it all out and calm down before he helped you up and took you downstairs to see Carl and soon out of the home to be back on the road.

Three days passed on the road with your refound group before your nightmares turn real when the group of men who assaulted you catch up and threaten to kill Rick and then the rest of you too.

Eyes wide you stared at the leader talk to Rick, no longer catching a single word when your eyes found him

Daryl.

Why was he with them?

Your surroundings blurred and sounds drowned out when the panic set in. Curled into yourself you only heard close gunshots and the accompanied loud ringing until a hamd rested on your shoulder where you sat against the side of a car.

"Y'alrigh?" Daryl's voice made you jump, sitting upright and throwing your full body against him, only to repeat the full crying session from inside the house again but this time against the leather of your boyfriend's vest.

Time passed and it seemed like you and Daryl were back on square one. Daryl blamed it on the trauma of having to flee the prison in the way it happened, but the truth was you still hadn't told him about your time apart.

You lost track of your days after your time with the group Daryl called the Claimers, not thinking about the whole situation much anymore until your third day in a row started with you puking up anything that hadn't been digested entirely yet.

The first two days you blamed the canned food and maybe undercooked meat but now you were hunched over at the side of the road when the harsh reality set in. This was in no way or shape a positive thing. Not after losing Lori in the way you did. Not because you were still without a more permanent home and even less because it wasn't Daryl who caused it. You hadn't been able to tell him what happened to you and you were out of time to prepare for the conversation.

You sat crouched and stared dead into the woods, trying your hardest to focus on a single leaf until your breathing was back to normal but your mind was too loud.

Your stomach emptied itself even further over the forest floor as sobs racked your whole body. You shivered as a cold sweat broke out. You and Daryl were already on worse terms than before the prison fell with being in survival mode constantly, there was no time to fhink about improving your relationship right now.

With your arms clutched around yourself you heaved as your stomach had nothing left to and your entire body hurt with every sob that left your lips.

"Hey," Daryl's voice and his hand on your shoulder had you freeze in panic. "Y'alrigh?"

It was now or never, forcing your head to shake. "No.." Your voice was barely above a whisper, and Daryl crouched down next to you to investigate. Your mind screamed at hou to lie. Fake being just ill and keep his mind on surviving for a while longer but your heart knew it was wrong.

You had already been lying to him for so long by not telling him immediately and you started to feel like it would be the proper punishment to be alone in this after you told him.

"I think I'm pregnant."

Instead of an answer Daryl was up and pacing at the edge of the road. You both knew it wasn't his and without hearing your side of story his mind went to every possible scenario that made him want to walk off and keep going until his legs gave out but you were still his partner. The teo of you might not have acted like it for a while but it was still true and he never forgot that.

He stopped at your side and leaned against a tree. "Talk.. please." He huffed the last word after seconds of silence, he needed to tone down the anger that came too natural to him.

You fell back on your ass and wiped your face on the bottom half of your sweater before steading your breaths and talking Daryl through the happenings of your time apart. The strange men, their deal that ended in the most traumatic night of your life and the trip to the house where Rick saved you and reuniting with Carl and Michonne up to where you met again.

When you finished your recollection of events you couldn't make yourself look up at Daryl. You felt like the worst person in exsistence for lying to him and it got only worse when he announced he needed some time and left.

You spent the days in the back of the RV, unsure if you should stay in this relationship and have Daryl raise a kid that wasn't his. Secretly you begged this world not giving you enough to have it survive long enough and go through the physical suffering of losing it but keep the man you loved.

Were you going to be okay, raising a child that that came into the world like this? Were you goinf to be okay dealing with a living, breathing reminder of what happened? Would Daryl?

You let this happen. You should have kept walking even if it killed you.

Daryl kept his word and hadn't been near you for a while. His time spent not hunting was filled with talking down at himself.

He let that happen. He should have been at your side. He should be at your side but he wasn't sure how he'd manage. He couldn't even go find the one who did it to you and make sure he suffered as much as you did since that whole group was dead by now.

The thought of you in such a situation almost cost him his life, the anger causing him to miss a walker on the ground under some leaves as it snapped at his leg and missed by a hair.

He took it out and stalked back to the group who by now lost their vehicles and had to travel on foot.the group knew about Daryl's anger and his inability to close off that part in a healty way. They knew of your doubts, your secret wishes and especially now traveling on foot they saw your tiredness, your sadness.

You spent all your time apart. Both unable to word the things in your minds as you ate dogmeat, got caught in a much needed rainstorm and hid in a barn where you were found by a stranger who claimed to have a community that would house you all.

A Whole month had passed after the horrible events and now you laid down in the community's infirmary, being examined after all the women of your group had dragged you into the room to be looked after and get needed supplements. The appointment made everything you still tried to deny true and you were sent back to your group with medication, vitamins and a sad heart.

Daryl watched how the women swarmed you and felt like the biggest asshole for not doing what they did. He should be there with you to comfort you about all of this. To tell you he'd make it all work as long as you two did it together. But why wasn't his body moving as he told himself this?

It was Rick's hand on his shoulder that pulled Daryl from his own mind back into reality. He was pulled up and taken along in the direction where you rested on the couch. Carol saw them and ushered the others aside, making sure Daryl had a place to sit beside you as Rick set him down and the others walked off.

"Hey," his voice was soft, barely above a whisper. Even throigh your own still twisted nerves you could feel his and welcomed him into your space with a smile. He came to you and didn't run as soon as Rick's hands were off him, he stayed on his own.

"S'good fer ya ta hav'a roof over yer head now." He was fidgeting with loose ends on his clothes, hoping his words made sense.

"Yeah, you're right.." You should tell him. You have to tell him.

"You know you don't have to stick around, right? It's not your kid, not your problem." The words hurt coming out of your mouth, and they hurt reaching Daryl's ears.

He may not have shown it, solely because he didn't know how, but he loved you. "I ain't lettin' ya do this on yer own." You heard his spoken words and knew they translated to more. More that Daryl had a difficulty saying out loud.

It was moments like this you thanked not needing many words to understand each other. It was one of the things that attracted the two of you in the beginning after all.

Daryl wasn't going to leave you over this. He was willing to do this with you and it took a huge weight off your chest. It was going to take a while but you were going to be okay, the three of you.

When the group fully settled in their homes and everyone was welcomed into the community you spent a lot of time in the garage with Daryl. He wanted to keep an eye on you as the baby grew, but he still needed to get work done so he had set up a corner for you to lounge and read books in. He's catch you staring his way more often than not, but it didn't bother him if it was you.

"Denise came ta drop these off for ya." Daryl walked into the bathroom where you were soaking in the tub. He placed your refill pharmacy order on the counter and came to kiss your forehead, admiring your bump for a moment before retreating into the bedroom to lay down and wait for you to call for assistance.. You were okay with you being nude these days, although Daryl still preferred to have his upper body covered and slept in an old ratty shirt.

Daryl sat on his knees next to the bed, he held your hand, your thigh, the towels when Denise instructed him to do so. He was everywhere to make sure you were comfortable and cried the second the baby made a sound and cheers went around the room.

He watched as the women cleaned the baby girl and laid her down on your chest. He had moved from side to side, feeling like he was in the way of all the moving people that assisted in helping your child into the world but was assured he was exactly where he needed to be for now, up till Denise gave him new instructions after a while of him doing nothing but stare and admire.

Sniffling he made his way to the other side of the bed on the doc's orders and scooted against your shoulder.

His hands were shaking since the second Denise told him to go lay down and take off his shirt. He thanked himself for wearing a button down as he kept his back against the pillows and undid the buttons to only shove aside the front of his shirt so it hung off his shoulders.

This time it was Carol who came to help, showing the new parents how to hold and handle theit newborn as she took her from mom's chest and placed her on dad's.

~~☆☆☆~~

A/N: Okay this one took me out. I'm sorry it took so long!!

#sometimes I write #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd #the walking dead #twd daryl

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familyvideostevie · 10 months

Text

august: a no good at waiting one-shot

Almost a year has gone by since you arrived in Hawkins. You and your enemy-turned-friend-turned-love-of-your-life Steve Harrington are feeling a little restless as summer passes. Your anxieties will not leave you alone: Are you going to move in together? Does Steve want to leave Hawkins? What will you do if he goes somewhere else? It all comes to a head on a day spent at Lover's Lake.

fluff, angst, miscommunication, musings about making choices, and lots of love! [5.4k]

this is a one-shot set after the events of no good at waiting, a farmer's market au, so it's best if you read that first! | au masterlist

Everything is perfect.

Well, not exactly. But you're happy.

Okay, again, not the whole truth. You're mostly happy. You love living in Hawkins, you love working at New-Bee's and the library, and you love Steve. Your boyfriend, your short-lived enemy, your favorite person. Who is kind of pissing you off right now.

Almost a year has gone by since you arrived in Hawkins not knowing what you wanted or who you were or how things were going to go. This summer has been fantastic -- dates with Steve and nights with your friends, drives to amusement parks and county fairs and visiting Robin's campus. It feels right to be here and you're glad that you decided to stay. You think that maybe you've finally figured out how life is supposed to feel: like this. Like love.

But at the moment, Steve has you in a bit of a rut. A few months ago he told you he really wanted to go on a trip this summer. Something just the two of you, a week or two, exploring a new place. You loved the idea because you love doing anything with Steve, but for some reason he's hardly mentioned it since then. And with the end of summer fast approaching, you know your chances at getting away are running out. As far as you can tell, he hasn't planned anything secret. Sure, things have been busy: El broke her arm last month so Steve took on extra shifts, there was a huge storm that flooded some of the fields, you got a promotion and the library and thus more hours, his car needed new breaks. The stars haven't aligned but there also hasn't been any...effort.

And that's just one thing.

The other thing, which is maybe bigger and actually makes you a bit mad, is you've been focused on figuring out how to move in together. You live at Bob's still and while you spend a lot of time at Steve's loft you've talked about finding a place of your own and your loose goal was to have it sorted by the fall. But he talks about both the move and the trip like they're just dreams, far away things that will never actually happen. He's vague whenever you bring up the new apartments going up on the old mall property, about the for sale signs you sometimes see around town. He tells you that it'll work out, that he wants to be sure you guys have enough money to be comfortable.

Does he not want to move in with you? It's a silly thought, sure, but what else are you supposed to think? He's spending every minute he's not with you at the farm or on errands he's been calling "Hopper Missions" on some property just outside of town. It's like he's filling the time so there's no room to discuss the future, like he wants to pretend it'll be summer forever.

Being in an adult relationship is hard. It's lots of decisions and compromise and learning how to talk to each other even when you don't want to and you wouldn't trade it for the world. You know it'll all work out, you just wish that it was worked out already, so you could enjoy the end of the summer and stop worrying that your boyfriend doesn't want to live with you. You know that you should just tell him how you're feeling, but that's easier said than done. Every time you try you wonder if you're being oversensitive or ungrateful or reading into things too much and you back out. Feelings are hard, okay?

You're mulling over the weight of all of these thoughts at the market on one warm Saturday morning in August. Market day is routine by now. It was fun to be here for the start of the season back in May, but you prefer the high summer days when there are endless fruits and veggies to buy and everyone is full of energy and excitement at another day. By now you run the stand practically alone -- local kids free for the summer help you stock in the morning and unload and cover when you're otherwise occupied. You've expanded to four standard candle scents and try out a seasonal one every month or so and the soaps were a very popular graduation gift. You've just tried your hand at chapsticks and they're doing really well.

Most people in town call you by your name when they come say hi. It's a little slow this month, with seasonal allergy honey sticks being less and less popular as the season winds down. So you feel okay retreating into your thoughts until someone clears their throat. You snap out of it and find El standing in front of you with a paper bag. There's a crease between her brows as she watches you.

"Hi," you say. "Is that for me?"

She nods. "I said that you looked sad so Steve told me to bring you something because he's 'up to his ears in husk'. He said you didn't eat breakfast." She uses air quotes. You soften.

"Thank you," you tell her. She keeps looking at you for a few moments before giving you a smile and trotting back to the Sara's tent. Inside the bag is one of her newer experiments -- peach scones. It's fantastic. You munch on it and keep smiling at anyone who comes by, though it's maybe not as effusive as you'd like. You really want to talk to someone about how you're feeling (a voice in your head says that person should be your boyfriend but you ignore it) but you're not sure who to go to. Robin is in Boston visiting Nancy at her hot-shot job at the paper, Eddie and Wayne are on a fishing trip somewhere in Michigan, and you're not about to chat to high schoolers about your love life, no matter how much you like them. You're not sure anyone around here notices your mood like your friends do.

"Why do you look like you swallowed a lemon?"

Well, anyone but your friends and...Murray, it seems. The guy is a little weird, sure, but he's friends with Hopper and Joyce and he really buys "a fuck ton" from the market every week, as Steve once said.

"Hi Mr. Bauman," you say. He frowns.

"Cut that Mr. shit out," he says, though it's not harsh. You do this dance every time he comes to buy an alarming amount of honey. "Your mood is going to ruin the honey."

"I...don't think that's how it works," you say. He levels you with a stare that you think must have served him well when he was a journalist in Chicago, as you've learned he was. "I'm thinking about a place to live?"

"You sure?" he says, poking fun at your uncertainty. "You can live anywhere. Trust me. Cars aren't great, but they'll do. I'd avoid tents. Very damp."

"I guess I was thinking a house," you admit, looking at your fingers. You've never put this into words before and you're not sure why you're doing it now. "Somewhere not too big, maybe with some land so I could get a dog. Not in town but not too far from town." You sigh. "It's a dumb dream."

Murray doesn't say anything. You look up at him and he looks confused. His gaze darts between you and the Sara's stand where you can see the back of Steve's head. "Not the dumbest I've heard."

He slaps down a bill and picks up his usual jar and walks away without another word. Whatever, he's a weird guy.

The day winds down and you're a little too warm to be comfortable and you're just sweaty enough that you want to take a shower and you've stewed in your feelings for too long. Of course this is when Steve comes over. Handsome as ever in his work jeans despite the heat and a Sara's t-shirt he's cut the arms off of, he looks like the lead in a teen movie.

You're loading up the crates to take back to the truck. He squeezes your hip in hello before he starts to help. "How did New-Bee's do today?" he asks.

You shrug. "Average. You?"

"Every damn person in this town wanted corn," he says. "I swear it felt like we sold more than we did for the fourth!"

You hum. It's unfair that your mood has plummeted just as he's shown up and you don't want to take it out on him, even if you consider it a little bit his fault. Steve, for his part, is being a typical boy and doesn't notice. "Hey, listen," he says.

"Listening," you mutter.

"Let's go to the lake tomorrow." That gets you to look at him. He wipes his forehead with his pocket bandana.

"The lake? Why?"

"Everyone says it'll be hotter than today and I think we deserve a day to relax, don't you think?" He squints at the sky, shading his eyes. His arms look lovely like this. "I know we haven't gone on that trip so this is like, a mini trip! Staycation? I think that's what it's called."

"I don't know if a day at the lake in town counts as a vacation, Steve," you say. But even as the words come out you find yourself wanting to go because its something to do. You haven't been swimming in the lake despite Steve's summer bucket list item of skinny dipping. You've actually only been to the lake in general a few times, which is a bit strange since it's such a big place in your relationship. You kissed for the first time at the bonfire on the shore, you told him you loved him in the cab of your truck on a cold night.

"So, is that a no?" He's looking at you with a confused expression.

"It's a yes. Is anyone else coming?"

"No, just us. We can have a picnic or some cute shit, yeah?" He rests his hand on your lower back and maybe it's a combination of the heat and your mood and the universe but you don't want him to touch you right then so you pull away from it. You don't look at him.

"Are you sure you don't have super secret Hopper shit to do?" Silence behind you.

"No," Steve says, dragging the word out. "Hey, are you alright? Did I do something?"

You ignore his question. "Are you going to come get me in the morning?" Usually, you'd go home, shower, and then stay over at Steve's place. This is a clear line in the sand that you're not sure is fair to draw.

"Sure," he says. "But, seriously, what's going on?" You do look at him then. He's got a frustrated set to his shoulders and his brows are drawn like he's trying to solve a puzzle.

You chew on your lip, hands in fists at your sides. "Nothing," you say. He gives you an incredulous look. "Okay, I just don't want to talk about it right now." The last thing you need is to not talk about it but you can feel that you're getting actually bothered about this and you don't want to have a discussion that gets taken over by your mood.

"Okaaaaay," he says. It annoys you even more. Your own shoulders creep up to your ears. "I'll help you pack up and then --"

"No," you say sharply. "I can do it myself."

"Woah, woah, woah," he says. "Okay, alright!" He holds his hands up in the air and the fight wooshes out of you.

"I don't want to fight with you, Steve."

"Who said we were fighting? Do we have something to fight about?"

You close your eyes and tip your head back. It all comes out in a rush. "Steve, I love you and we spend so much time together and I keep trying to get you to talk about looking for a place and you just won't and you want to go on a trip but you won't actually plan it and you want to go to the fucking lake tomorrow and it's like you want to do anything except talk about this stuff and I don't really want to be around you right now."

You don't feel any better for having said all of it. In fact, your chest aches and your nose stings. You don't know if you can look at him.

"I didn't know you were that upset about it," he says finally. It sounds frosty.

"I didn't tell you."

"I can see that," he says. You still don't look at him.

The market is really closing up around you, fewer voices and commotion. You wonder if anyone heard this argument. "I can pack the rest. I'll see you tomorrow." You could have told him you don't want to go but maybe the lake is where you can squash this once and for all.

Steve seems to take the dismissal at face value because you hear him sigh. Part of you wants him to fight you on it right here right now, to sort it out so you can stop feeling so worried all the time. But he doesn't. Instead, you hear his steps and then feel the heat of him as he gently kisses you on the cheek.

"Okay," he says. "See you tomorrow."

And then he's gone.

"Fuck," you say to yourself. You shake yourself out of it and try to pack away the rest of the stall with as much speed as you can muster without breaking anything. The scar across your palm is faint by now but you aren't eager to get another one.

You're almost done bringing the crates to the truck when you hear your name. Will stands in front of your stall, a hesitant smile on his face. He's a sweet kid -- 18, soon, you think, so hardly a kid at all -- and you've gotten to know him a little more since you asked if he wanted to draw the labels for the chapsticks.

"Hi, Will," you say. "Sorry I didn't see you."

He's holding a single sunflower. "Sorry to bother you," he says. "This guy is the only one left today and El said you looked a little down earlier so I thought maybe you'd like it?"

You blink a few times. "Did you, uh, hear all of...that?" You vaguely gesture behind you as if the ghost of Steve is standing there with his arms crossed.

Will looks at you for a second, considering something. Then he holds the flower out and says, "Hear what?" Tactful kid.

"Thanks, Will." He tells you to have a good day and goes back to the flower stand. The sunflower stem is velvet-soft in your hand and the petals are a brilliant yellow. It's a bit lonely on it's own but you will put it in a wine bottle and keep it on your windowsill.

Imagining it there, the only stem, standing as tall as it can in the sunshine in your bedroom, makes you want to cry.

The thing you're most scared of is Steve wanting to leave Hawkins after all. You knew it was a genuine possibility when you started dating, knew that he wanted to explore the world just as you started to make yours here. You told him you'd go with him anywhere he wanted and you meant it then. But now you're not so sure. You love Hawkins and you love Steve. You don't know what you're going to do if one of them demands you leave the other.

Your mind churns as you go to bed and as soon as you wake up. Maybe he doesn't want to plan a trip because he's afraid he won't want to come back. Maybe he's afraid to move in together because he doesn't want to invest time and money into something he'll leave behind. Maybe he's already got plans and he's trying to figure out how to tell you.

"Stop it," you tell yourself in the bathroom mirror. You're prone to this kind of overthinking; it's why you made the huge mistake of running from him last fall. And while you know him so much better, know yourself so much better, sometimes it's hard to believe that you not only deserve nice things and a nice life full of love but that you already have them. And that's why you don't know if you can leave even if you told him you could.

You sit at the kitchen table in your swimsuit under shorts and a wax-stained New-Bee's t-shirt and feel a bit sick about yesterday. You know that Steve will come get you -- he would have called if he didn't want to go anymore. You don't leave each other in a lurch like that, even if you've fought. But you're worried that you've ruined the chance of a fun day that hasn't even happened yet.

The frustration with Steve still simmers under your skin. But you want to table it to have a bit of fun, if you can. You hear the crunch of his tires in the driveway and you grab your stuffed bag and head for the door. You're greeted with the sight of Steve getting out of the car and smiling at you a little hesitantly. He's in bright red swim trunks and a ratty Hawkins High t-shirt and sunglasses.

"What is this, Baywatch?" you ask him, breaking the tension. He laughs and meets you on the porch stairs to give you a quick kiss. You chase his lips a little but he doesn't call you on it.

"Well, I was a lifeguard," he says.

"Which I bet you did just so you could look hot in the chair."

"Obviously," Steve says. He takes your bag from you. "Actually, I taught kids to swim, too. Jesus, what's in here, a watermelon?"

You roll your eyes. "Just the essentials. Sunscreen, a book, some sandwiches, grapes, a water bottle, spare clothes, a towel, a hat --"

"Okay, okay, damn," he laughs, putting it in the back seat. You get in the car and he heads for the lake, windows down. He was right about the weather -- it's much hotter than yesterday already. It could be a nice day. You want it to be a nice day. But the churning your gut demands you address the elephant in the room.

When Steve reaches for the radio you catch his hand in yours.

"Steve," you say. "I do want to talk about yesterday." He doesn't look at you, chewing on his cheek and tapping the wheel in what you know is a nervous habit.

"Yeah," he says. "We probably should. But I also want today to be nice, okay?" He kisses the back of your hand.

"I do, too."

It's not much but it's enough for now. It doesn't take long to get to the lake. Steve takes you to a different part than where you had the bonfire and where you told him you love him. This area has a dock and some grass and a shore of sand and rocks that you can see from where he parks the car.

"There's no one here," you say, unloading the backseat. "Are we even allowed to swim?"

Steve grabs the blanket from his trunk and you spread it out on the grass. "Yeah," he says. "Five years ago or something they finished a project with some scientists or some shit to make sure the lake was good for swimming. They built this but honestly I don't think a ton of people come here." He shrugs. "Or they knew we were coming and left it to us."

"Lucky us," you smirk. You spread out your items on the grass before shimmying out of your shorts and t-shirt. Steve wolf whistles. "Gross!" you tell him.

"Sorry," he says, not looking sorry at all. "That's a nice color on you. Have I seen this before?" His eyes rake over you and you plant your hands on your hips instead of crossing your arms.

"Have we been swimming before?" you ask him.

He grins. "Good point." He pulls off his shirt in one motion from the collar like boys do and without another word sprints down the small hill and onto the dock, jumping off the end and into the water with a yelp and a splash.

"Such a child," you mutter, but you're endeared. He surfaces and shakes out his head like a dog.

"Okay," he says. "It's kind of really fucking cold."

You stop in your tracks, feet just on the edge of the dock. "Really?"

"No," he says. "It's only a little cold. Nice, though." You look skeptical.

"Did you put on sunscreen?" you ask, stalling.

"Yeah." Steve swims in slow circle. "Did you? I'll do your back," he says with an eyebrow wiggle.

"I did it already," you say primly. You knew that if you ended up touching too much on this date, you'd never get to talk about the stuff you need to talk about. "So no back rub necessary." Steve shoots a stream of water at you with his mouth. It gets your knees.

"It is cold!" you squeal. Steve looks too pleased with himself. "It's on, Harrington." You take a few running steps and cannonball into the water.

Honestly, once you've been under for a few seconds it's not so bad. You surface and find Steve grinning at you. "That was cute," he says. You splash him.

After acting like children for a little you both float on your backs, hands clasped, watching the sky. Your conversation and teasing fades and in its place returns your anxiety and frustration from yesterday.

Steve seems to think you're hungry. "Let's eat something," he says. "And put on some more sunscreen."

He gets up on the dock first and runs to get your towels. He wraps yours around your dripping shoulders and you stand in his arms for a second, hand pressed to his heart to feel it beat. You love him. You will work this out. You wonder if it's possible for something to go wrong not because you don't love each other enough but because you love each other too much.

"I made you a great sandwich," you say, pulling away. "And you need more sunscreen, too. Your nose is getting red."

"Wait, really?"

You settle on the blanket and lay out your lunch. Steve pulls berries from his own bag and you eat in a silence that is only a little tense until he tosses a strawberry top into the grass and sighs.

"So, I'm guessing now is the time to talk about it?" he asks.

"Do you not want to?" You don't want this to be a fight but you don't know what else it's going to be.

"No, of course I do," he says. "We need to, clearly." He crosses his legs, his tanned stomach rolling in the way you adore over the waistband of his swim trunks. God, you love him. That's why you have to figure this out.

"We do," you say, squaring your shoulders. "I'll start." The frustration returns full force. "What the hell have you been up to, Steve? You're busy all the time and I don't need to know what you're doing because I do trust you. I just don't get why you can't tell me what you're doing on these weird errands and you won't talk to me about going on a trip or moving and I thought those were both things we wanted."

"I do want those things --"

"I've been looking into what we can afford in Hawkins and thinking about places we could go and I'm busy busting my ass at the library when I'm not at New-bee's so that we can live somewhere nice. And it just seems like you don't actually care that much about moving in together because --"

"I do, care," he says over you. "I just don't want to live in Hawkins."

Time slows down. Your heart thunders in your ears. "What did you say?"

Steve looks stressed. He reaches for you but you don't want to touch him so you cross your arms. A look of hurt crosses his face but it fades quickly.

"Let me explain," he says. "I can explain it all. If I had known you were feeling this way I would have much earlier. Why didn't you tell me?"

You shake your head to clear it. He doesn't want to live in Hawkins? Well, what does he want? Does he want you, still? "Because I didn't think you'd make me feel this way," you say hoarsely.

He takes a deep breath. "I wanted to go on a trip this summer, yeah. I thought it would be fun. And then, like, two months ago, I started thinking about how I didn't actually want to leave Hawkins, but I also don't want to keep living the same life in Hawkins, if that makes sense."

Two months? Two months? The timeline rolls around in your mind. He's been thinking about this for two months and he didn't tell you?

Steve is still talking, apparantly not noticing your distress. "And we talked about looking for a place so I realized that maybe a trip wasn't a good use of our money even though I know we both work hard and are doing fine. And then I was on a drive the weekend you went to visit your family, remember?"

You nod. You'd gone home for a weekend and missed him terribly the entire time. Steve taps your ankle and you realize he wants you to reply. His eyes are wide like he's scared and he runs a hand through his hair. What is he scared of? "Yeah," you say hollowly. "I called you every night."

"You did," he says. "The first night you left I went for a drive all around the county, basically. Just to get out of town but not go too far. To do anything other than mope at my place after we hung up. And that's when I found it."

You aren't following. He leans forward and taps your cheek with his knuckle. "The most perfect damn place in the world."

"Don't tell me you bought a piece of land, Steve," you say. It doesn't seem like a thing he'd do and wouldn't make sense if he's just going to leave.

Your boyfriend just smiles at you. "No," he says. "I didn't buy it. Well, not really."

"Not really?" you say, incredulous. What the fuck is going on?

"I'm almost done explaining, I swear, honey." He runs a hand through his damp hair again. "It's maybe half an hour out of Hawkins proper. It's a real nice little farmhouse with lots of open space around it and I saw it and it felt like I'd been struck by lightning, or something."

The pieces start to fall into place but you don't dare hope. "Dramatic," you say.

"Hey, don't make fun of me!" Your joke seems to encourage him. "It looked like no one lived there so I figured out what the address was and turns out that weird guy Murray owns it."

Murray? Who you say yesterday at the farmer's market and who listened to you tell him about your dream property? That he, apparently, happens to own?

"He's not that weird," you mumble.

"He is weird but I don't give a shit because he doesn't use it and after talked to me he agreed to rent it to us for barely anything if I fixed it up a little first. So that's what I've been doing."

Steve looks at you, eyes wide and waiting. You blink a few times and try to take it all in.

"So let me get this right," you say. "When you haven't been working at Sara's or spending time with me, you've been fixing up a house that you're going to rent from Murray? And you told me none of this? For two months?"

Steve frowns. "When you say it like that I sound like the bad guy. Also, we're going to rent it." He seems to realize you haven't agreed to anything by the way his face falls and okay, maybe you're being a little unfair. Yes, he lied, a little bit, but it wasn't anything harmful. You just got in your head about it.

"I just don't get why you didn't tell me," you say, feeling small. "I was starting to think that you didn't..."

"Didn't what?" Steve reaches for you and you let him take your hands this time.

"Didn't actually want to live together. Didn't want to go on a trip. I don't know." You sigh.

Steve looks genuinely upset at that you've thought this. "Honey," he says, voice rough. "All I want is to live with you. This house is for us. Now that I'm saying it out loud I'm realizing I probably should have told you that at the start."

A whole house. You've imagined your first place together to be a dinky apartment on the edge of town. But a house? It's a dream come true. You bring Steve's palm to your cheek and lean into it.

"I thought we were good at communicating," you say softly.

"Apparantly not," he says wryly. "I'm sorry for not telling you. I just...wanted to make it nice and official first, I guess." His thumb strokes your cheek. "But you should have told me how you were feeling a long time ago."

"Yeah," you agree. "I'm sorry. Would have saved me some heartache and you some hard work. I could have helped!"

"You still can," he says, eyes lighting up. "It's not quite done. I still need to paint the outside."

You scoot forward so you're almost in his lap. "Where did you learn to fix up a house, Steve?"

"Hopper," he says. He fiddles with the strap of your bathing suit. "He's been helping. So I really was doing Hopper stuff, kind of?" He licks his lips. Another nervous tell. "So, what do you think?"

"What do you mean?"

"About the house. I know it's a lot and we're still kind of young but renting means we can change our minds and --"

You put your head in your hands. "Steve," you say, voice thick. "I'm still getting over the fact that I thought you didn't want to move win with me and finding out that instead you've found us a house."

His hands circle your wrists. "Only to rent!" he says a little desperately. "I mean, you might not even like it!" You allow him to pull your palms away. Your nose starts to sting.

"I will," you say.

"Oh no," Steve says. "You look like you're going to cry." He pulls you fully into his arms and flops onto his back on the blanket, taking you with him. You land on his chest with an oof.

"I've been really scared," you say into his bare chest. "That you were going to leave and I don't know if I can follow you because I love it here even though I love you, too."

"I know," he says. "But I think this is perfect. It's close but not the place we've been. It's ours until we want something different. And I don't think I want to leave because I want to be wherever you are."

"It's so grown up." You sniffle and he rubs your back.

"I know," he sighs. You can feel his heartbeat under your cheek. "What the fuck."

"What the fuck," you echo and laugh wetly. "Is the yard big enough for a dog?"

"Sure is," he says. "Do you want to drive by when we head home?"

"I do." He hums.

You sit in silence for a few breaths. "Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, but please tell me things next time, okay?" He looks down at you through long lashes.

"Deal," he says. "I love you back, but please tell me how you're feeling, okay?"

"Deal." You roll off of him and sit up. "Can we go see our house now?"

He grins toothily. "Hell yes we can," he says. "Well, it's not ours yet. Seriously, we have to work that out with Murray. I think we need a lawyer to draw something up? I don't really know how all that works --"

You kiss him in the middle of his sentence. "We'll figure it out."

"You're right," he says. He kisses you again. "We will."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here!

#no good at waiting #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington au

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tyunphoria · 11 months

Text

🌪️two shots of espresso, three shots to the heart — h.hyunjin (pt.1)

- - - - -

⚠️NSFW CONTENT⚠️

- - - - -

camboy!hyunjin x barista!reader

SYPNOSIS: your best friend/co-worker worries about your sad, single, life-style. he suggested a — quote-un-quote — ‘dating site’ but it turned out to be an adult streaming website. you accidentally stumbled upon a streamer who went by the user @SnowFerret320 while trying to close the tab. SnowFerret also happened to be living next door.

INCLUDES: reader with she/her pronouns, best friend wooyoung, SMUT , SLOW-BURN, hyunjin being down bad for y/n, y/n being down bad for snow ferret and practically donating her whole bank account towards his streams, y/n having a thing for hyunjin’s hands, y/n being oblivious to the fact hyunjin’s snowferret for the sake of the plot.

eventually turns into FWB on later parts.

WARNINGS: voyeurism (obvi), alcohol intake, use of toys, reader getting off on his streams, hyunjin being somewhat of a perv?, pet names, praise, degradation, hand kink, voice kink, dirty talk, mentions of obsessive tendencies(?).

wc: 7.8k

! ! THIS IS PART 1 OF THE ‘TWO SHOTS OF ESPRESSO, THREE SHOTS TO THE HEART’ SERIES. ! !

✩

"Woo..." you sigh, squinting down at the nearly illegible writing on the paper.

Twisting it this way and that, frustration creases your brow as the words continue to swim and blur together.

"Your handwriting... is so ass," you mutter.

Wooyoung snatches the paper back, waving it in front of your face with a mischievous grin. "harmonymatch.com," he explains, "It's a dating site. It'll help you get laid."

You roll your eyes at his suggestion as you change into your work uniform and tie on your apron. Glancing back at Wooyoung, you give him an unimpressed look. “Tinder, yubo, elitesingles… Those are all the sites you recommended. Wanna know what they all have in common?” you list, pretending to tap your cheek in thought. “oh yeah—they never worked out!”

“Then keep digging till you find yourself a fine hunk.” Woyoung’s matchmaking efforts often caused more trouble than help. You’ve tried out multiple dating sites and in every single one of them they turned out to be a catfish or just some weirdo looking for sex.

“You’re more invested in my love life than I am.” You shook your head.

“Well,” Wooyoung starts, draping an arm across your shoulder, “that’s what cupid Woo is here for. Let your dear best friend take care of it.” His corny charisma brought a small smile to your face. As irritating as he can be, you somehow appreciate his efforts. Underneath the misguided meddling, he just wants you to be happy, and you know that.

He playfully leans all his weight on you followed by a dramatic sigh. “Like, seriously. You’re in your fossil era and yet you’re still a virgin. What’s the point in living then?”

“I’m not a virgin!” You huffed as your knees buckled under his weight, “my first time just wasn’t… ideal. And you know the people I’ve dated in the past never worked out. Whenever I think the relationship’s going great, they block and ghost me forever.”

“Maybe if you stopped being colour blind and see the red flags then maybe your relationships will work out.” He scoffed. “And your first time didn’t even count; that jackass lasted three minutes and passed out right after. Hence, making you still a virgin—“

He’s cut off by someone clearing their throat. You both turned to see a man standing there with a tight smile on his lips.

“Can I order?” His voice sounded so smooth and languid as you flushed and shoved Wooyoung off of you.

“Of course,” you stammer, “what can I get for you?”

The man—with slightly tousled dark hair that fell perfect across his forehead—his handsome gaze found lingering on yours, making your heart skip. As he paid, he flashed you another smile which caused his eyes to disappear into beautiful crescent moons.

After he leaves, Wooyoung nudges you teasingly. “Looks like you and pretty boy were having a moment.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Wait, there’s a term for it nowadays… eye-fucking, I think?” He cackled.

You shove him one last time before making your way to the back with reddened cheeks. Even though you most likely won’t see that man ever again, had he heard you and Wooyoung’s awkward sex talk? Hell, how long was he standing there for?

“That was so embarrassing…”

✩

You looked at your phone to check what time it was. 11:46 p.m, it read.

“I don’t have classes tomorrow,” you slumped in your seat, “might as well start on that term paper.”

Although it was pretty late, you just couldn’t find yourself sleeping anytime soon. For some reason, your mind just worked better at night. Moving over to the bed, you took your laptop resting the device on your lap as you leaned against the headboard.

The deadline seemed far away yet your motivation came in bursts. An hour into typing, distraction felt closer than focusing. Laying the laptop aside, you shifted to your left to turn out the lamp so you could finally ease into the stillness of the night. On the nightstand, you spotted the paper Wooyoung gave you earlier.

“He gave me a shit ton of these already,” you sighed as you took the paper, “let’s see what this one’s about.”

You typed in the website on your browser and waited for it to load. In all honesty, you just wanted to check it out to see what kind of dating site it was this time. No talking to weirdass strangers, no nothing. Just something to distract your mind at that moment. You glanced over to your right to grab an extra pillow for your sore and aching neck but when you looked back at your laptop, you were met with something unexpected.

The screen was filled with adult streamers. With their privates on full display.

“What the fuck ?!” You instinctively shut your burning eyes, trying to direct the cursor to close the damn tab.

However, much to your luck, you accidentally clicked on a random streamer, seeming as though the live had just only started.

Slowly, you fluttered your eyes open and watched as the guy came in view and sat on his chair in front of the camera. He was wearing a mask, obviously, a white mask that only shows half of his face. What caught your attention was his gaze… he was staring at the camera, almost intensely, looking relaxed as he leaned back on his chair while the nail of his thumb caught between his teeth gnawing at it.

A calm electricity seemed to pulse from his stare, as if he were actually capturing your gaze and holding it captive. You gulped, fingers twitching and urged for you to close the tab but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

The suit he wore drew your eyes curiously—a tailored midnight blue with the blazer resting lightly on his sculpted shoulders, providing fleeting glimpses of the bare skin beneath. His only half-buttoned black shirt glistened as beads of sweat trickled down his dampened chest.

A small smile played on his lips as he brought his hand lower. “So…” he started with such a tone of voice, one that almost made you melt, “what were we talking about in the last stream again?”

He adjusted himself and leaned closer to the computer screen. “Ah, yeah,” a sultry laugh slips past his lips. “We were talking about if you could handle me if I fucked your brains out.” The chat went crazy at that comment he made. He didn’t bother reading them as he leaned on his seat.

He spoke with his chat for a few more minutes or so, palming the tent through his pants throughout.

A couple of them were urging him to just whip it out already and you could tell he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

“Okay, okay… wow, you guys are pretty desperate tonight.”

With one tug of his pants, his dick sprung up with pre-cum already dribbling down its red tip. His slender fingers wrapped around the head of his cock, the palm of his hand circling around it boredly.

“What’s my body count?” He read one of the comments while speeding up the pace of his hand.

“I—fuck… ah…” his lip twitched, sweat trickling down his temple. He bit down on his bottom lip, swirling his thumb around his tip. “Doesn’t matter… could be five, sixty, or even none… just think about how good I can fuck you…” his moans and sharp breathing filled the space of your empty apartment. With his voice the only source of sound you could hear bouncing off the walls, you could feel your eyelids growing heavy as you succumbed to the sound of total eargasm from this guy.

could be your new favourite asmr, who knows.

His hand started to get faster with its motion, almost like he was getting bored and just wanted to get it over with. He threw his head back, Adams apple bobbing along with each flick of his wrist.

He drew out a long whine as he licks his lips, continuing to fuck his fist.

“I bet it’d feel better if you were here… sucking my cock like my pr—ah..—precious little slut.”

“cumming…” he gulped, “cumming just for you…” With one last stutter of his hips and his abs flexing, he came. Thick ropes of come trickled down his cock and over his fingers, coating his abs in sinful pleasure as he groaned for the camera.

He swallowed a deep sigh and grabbed a couple of tissues to clean his hand. “That’s about it for tonight.” As the chat bombarded with complaints, he only ever smiled, sending a flying kiss towards the camera. “I know, I know… usually I’d stay and chat for a few more but I feel so tired. I’ll see you the next time I go live, I’ll make it up to you. Make sure to dream about me,” he drawled out.

Without even realizing it, the live had shut off and you were left sitting there with the homepage of the website on display. You were left, thinking, ‘what in the ever living fuck did I just watch?’

And the full thing at that.

“Once I get my hands on that son of a bitch Wooyoung I’ll strangle him to death.”

✩

You didn’t get any sleep. At all.

Exhausted, you dragged yourself out of bed after a sleepless night replaying that fateful stream in your head. You had barely closed your eyes when your manager called asking you to cover a shift for a sick co-worker. Great. Just what you needed.

You sighed and tiredly grabbed your keys, limbs feeling like lead as you trudged your way outside the door. Your thoughts drifted to visions of warm blankets and a nice cup of steaming hot coffee as you shut the door — causing you to walk straight into someone.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” You muttered, looking up to see your neighbor that just moved in and settled across the hall. He did look familiar… dark hair and nice plump lips. You know you’ve seen them before.

Then it hit you—he was the guy at the coffee shop yesterday.

He reached out instinctively and placed steadying hands on your arms as you lightly stumbled. His touch was brief yet it made you feel at ease. He placed a warm smile on his lips, releasing your arms and took a subtle step back to maintain a close yet not intrusive distance between the both of you.

“Good morning.” A quiet laugh escaped his lips. The sound resonates deep within you, stirring something in your mind you could not yet place.

God, he was so beautiful. More gorgeous than any model you’ve seen.

You merely nodded, still caught in the warmth of his eyes and the comfort of his smile. “Good morning.” You greeted back, nearly breathless.

When the elevator doors opened, you both stepped in as you awkwardly stood next to him. You hit the button to the ground floor, trying to subtly glance at the handsome man beside you. His all-black outfit did little to conceal his athletic build. The turtleneck compression shirt hugged his torso beautifully, accentuating his broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist. A duffle bag sat casually at his feet.

His eyes met yours briefly and you swore you saw the way his lips tugged up into a cocky smile. Shit, were you caught checking him out?

He took note of your slightly disheveled form. “Rough night?” He couldn’t help but say, attempting to break the uncomfortable silence that engulfed the area. “Sorry. Not in that way. You just seemed to be in a daze is all.”

Your cheeks flushed as you cleared your throat. “You have no idea…” you say, slightly embarrassed.

He laughed, running his fingers along his hair before he wore a black cap on.

“Yeah, me too.”

- - - -

“Good morning, noona! Did you check out the site I recommended—“

“Wooyoung, you lil’ shit!” With gritted teeth, you smacked the back of his head. “You didn’t tell me it was a fucking porn site!”

“Glad you liked my surprise, noona.” He pouted. “So? How was it?”

You can’t confirm nor deny that you enjoyed it. It was… something new beyond your usual comfort. Do people actually spend their time watching that stuff? In all honesty, you get it. Some people have a weekly favourite drama, youtuber, or whatever, and some have their favourite camperson. You felt more curious than judgment if anything.

Did you stay and watch the whole thing? Yes, you did. Why did you? Mere curiosity though was increasingly uncomfortable. Did you enjoy it? Hell no.

Now, let’s play a game of two lies and a truth.

Whatever. Pretend last night never happened and focus, y/n.

✩

@SnowFerret320.

That was his username on harmonymatch.

According to your friend, Aya, who is strangely familiar with broadcasting jockeys when it came to porn, he goes live once a week every Friday at exactly 11:40 at night.

“You’re telling me this, why?” You asked her.

“Personally, I like @Quokka940 better, I used to watch him when I was still single, but Ferret’s totally your type! Give his streams another chance.”

It’s been a busy week. you’ve been working part time at the cafe but also juggling to write the term paper.

In truth, you’ve been procrastinating.

Your upperclassman, Chan, always scolded you for having that shitty aspect but you only seemed to find motivation last minute. You just haven’t been doing so great lately and it took a huge toll on your stress levels.

You halted the way your fingers danced along the keyboard to crack your knuckles. “Okay. Thirty minute break time.” You concluded after only working for ten minutes, or even less. You glanced at the clock, 11:50.

‘It’s been ten minutes since his stream started…’

You shook your head, eyes widening.

‘Why the fuck would I care?’

“…”

You stared at your own reflection on the black screen of your laptop.

Then you suddenly found yourself typing the name of the site.

“I think I’m going batshit insane.”

You’re only doing this so you could feed your curiosity, you kept reminding yourself. You finally made an account and went by the user @treasure006987.

“Oh? Is that so?” The man who went by ‘Ferret’ sat on his gaming chair, pristine white shirt unbuttoned with a light sheen of sweat on his chest. You watched him lick his lips as he unzipped his pants. “A lot of you are saying you had a bad week…” he stuck out his bottom lip as your breath hitched. “How about I take care of you?”

He dipped his hand into his pants and pulled out his pretty cock. “Just follow my lead…” he continued to roll his fist around the tip, squeezing some lube on his erect cock. “Why don’t you take that off and spread your legs for me, baby… yeah, just like that,” he gulped, squelching sounds echoing in your room as he fucked his fist.

“So pretty… such a pretty baby… go on and suck your fingers… get them all nice and wet.” An odd feeling of a heavy weight settles in the pit of your stomach as you catch yourself rubbing your thighs together. “Rub your slick all over your hole for me—yeah, just like that.”

You tucked your lower lip between your teeth before you finally reached into your panties, fully succumbing to the growing sensation. Your fingers flicked on your swollen clit, collecting your slick before stuffing your cunt with your fingers.

“Oh,” he groaned, his voice getting breathier, lower, sexier. “Fuck yourself on your fingers. Bet it’s still not enough, huh? Bet my fingers would stretch you out so fucking good. Too bad there’s a screen that separates us. I bet you can’t help but wish I could be there with you.” He now used both of his fists and bucked into them. He snapped his hips faster, your fingers urged to move in time with his thrusts.

You let your eyes fall shut, his moans had you spiraling. While you flicked on your sensitive bud, you heard a choked moan and as you cracked your eyes open, he hunched over the camera as he reached his orgasm, followed by the soak of your sheets.

Ferret fell silent for a few minutes, all you can hear is his labored breathing. He cleaned himself with napkins before letting out a chuckle.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

The chat explodes with nothing but positive (and horny) feedback. His eyes skimmed through the comments, but the top donors grabbed most of his attention.

@sincerely_yourstruly donated 70$: “again! again!”

“Again?” He laughed. “I don’t know if I could handle another one… you were so good for me, just thinking about you fucking yourself made me nearly cum in just two seconds.”

@badbitchnala donated 37$: “come onnnnn, pleeeaaassseee?”

@halahalamf donated 53$: “when are you finally gonna use sex toys:(“

@purpsjiminipewbs donated 90$: “would you still love us if we were all worms”

He thanked all his donors, answering their questions or comments, no matter how random they are. ‘I’m gonna regret this.’ You frowned, hesitantly reaching for your touchpad. ‘What am I doing, someone please slap some sense into me right now…’

@treasure006987 donated 150$: “glad i stumbled across your stream… you’re so pretty, can’t wait for the next time you go live.

You cringed at your own comment, exhaustion clouding your mind from such an unholy activity to think of something more original and less corny.

He could be seen squinting his eyes at his monitor. “Aww…” he smiled, “well aren’t you the sweetest thing… you new here, Treasure?”

Your heart skipped, him merely acknowledging your existence brought a giddy smile on your face. “Thanks for the donation! Hope you stick around longer, I promise I’ll be worth your while.” Bringing himself further from the camera once more, he lazily stroked his dick, thumb swirling around the leaking tip as he brought his middle and index before it slipped between his fingers. Your heart swelled in your throat at his next words.

“See this, precious? All for you… all for my Treasure.”

✩

Wooyoung recently introduced an app called Shemu. Another one of those online-shopping megastores that offers everything in such an affordable price by luring people in with the use of pyramid scheming.

“Just another Tein knock-off, they’re probably stealing my personal information as we speak.” You said as you proceeded to add more useless shit to your cart and check-out.

But somehow, your packages always get washed up on address no. 562. You’re 561.

As you ponder this oh-so frustrating predicament, a knock sounds at the door. You opened it to find your neighbor standing there with your latest Shemu package in hand.

“Hi.” He chuckled.

You groaned, running your hand down your face as you leaned against the door frame. “God, I really am sorry about this, mister…”

“Just call me Hyunjin,” he waved his hand dismissively. “And it really is no trouble. Y/n, right?”

“How’d you know my name?”

Hyunjin fell silent for a few seconds before he cleared his throat. “Well, given that this is the fifth package of yours I’ve received this week, it'd be concerning if I hadn’t known your name by now.” He smiled as you flushed in embarrassment.

“Right! Sorry, and I tried taking care of it, I swear, but every time I rang the courier service they passed me off to different departments…”

Hyunjin hummed in understanding, chewing on his thumbnail while looking down at you as you tried to avoid his piercing gaze. “Don’t worry, I know how terrible that company’s customer service is.” You nodded, gnawing nervously on your left cheek.

As Hyunjin observed you, he can’t help but play a smirk on his lips. ‘She looks so cute like this… makes me wanna pinch her cheeks..’

“How about I help you sort this out, yeah?” He offered. “I can call the courier service for you.”

You blinked, trying to process his words.

“Oh—yeah! Yeah… of course, um, come in,” you opened the door wider, kicking your jacket that was on the floor aside.

“Want anything to drink?”

“Water’s fine.”

You both sat down as he dialed the number for the service. It only took a couple of rings for them to pick up.

“Hello! You’ve reached customer service at LaserDeliveries Korea. How may I help you?”

“Hi!” Hyunjin started off with a charming greeting as he comfortably leaned back on the chair. “Hope I’m not taking up too much of your precious time. Anyhow, I’ll just get straight to the point,” he smiled, standing up and bringing the phone to his ear. “I am a valued customer who’s sick of your shit tactics for customer service. I’m honestly kinda fed up, you know?

“I hope you don’t mind, you’re free to end the call of course, but I am going to start screaming right in your ear.”

You looked at him, dumbfounded. Is—is he serious? “Um… Hyunjin, I think I can take over—“

“However, if you do wish for me to calm down, I suggest putting me on line with your supervisor right now.” He looked at you, mouthing: ‘I’ll be back’ before stepping out of your apartment.

You blinked. Then blinked again. Your mouth felt dry, genuinely speechless. You clutch the glass between your hands, trying not to let out a fit of chuckles.

After what felt like eternity, Hyunjin finally came back and placed the phone on the table and switched it to speaker.

“….yes, hello, this is the department manager speaking. I’d first like to formally apologize for the inconvenience….”

- - - -

“I seriously can’t thank you enough, hyunjin.” You smiled gratefully, giving his arm a gentle pat. “I owe you one, let me make it up to you somehow.”

Hyunjin considers for a moment. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned over and lightly brushed his lips against your ear. “How about a date?”

That unexpected question caught you off guard, briefly leaving you speechless as it made your words catch in your throat. “Uh—“

“Kidding!”

You returned his smile, laughing awkwardly yourself. Some part of you still hoped it wasn’t a joke. “How about a free iced-americano then?” He must’ve already known that you were one of the baristas in that small coffee shop nearby.

“Oh, you really don’t have to—“

“No, really, I insist.” You wanted to at least repay his thoughtfulness somehow considering he went through all that trouble screaming in someone’s ear just to fix your package issue.

Hyunjin took your hand and gave it an appreciative squeeze. “Free iced americano it is.”

You exchanged your goodbyes as he stepped back into his apartment. He plopped himself down on his bed, snatching his mask from the nightstand as he brought it up to fiddle with and observe. “Dumbass, why’d you do that?” Hyunjin groaned and rolled over to his side. “The packages were the only excuse you had to talk to her,” He exclaimed

Why should it matter? He’s getting worked up over nothing. Hyunjin thought back to your surprised and flustered reaction when he jokingly suggested you both go on a date. It was cheesy, stupid, but you were so cute he just couldn’t help it!

After he finishes his gym sessions with Changbin, he’d drop by the cafe you worked at and order the same drink over and over again. Everytime your fingers would brush against his when handing him his cup, he swore one day he may lose his composure.

Receiving your packages has given Hyunjin the first chance to speak with you personally. Of course, he just had to ruin it.

The first time your package showed up at his doorstep, he didn’t bother reading the label and opened it. Just some milk frother and a few cups, he was pretty confused at first until he read the label. There were also a few make-up products but one item caught his attention specifically:

A lipstick vibrator.

“Ha… I didn’t think she’d turn out to be the naughty type… speaking of, do I still have it?” Yes, he stole it, and yes, it was necessary. Did he have some self-restraint, god no.

It was sitting in his dresser as he placed a battery inside and sat back down on his bed. He held it up and gulped. Hyunjin tried using toys before, it just wasn’t his thing. It didn’t feel as good as the real thing or his hands.

“Won’t hurt to try something new once in a while…” Hyunjin muttered. He brushed his thumb over the vibrator, the thought of you using it crossed his mind which made his cock twitch inside of his tight jeans.

He swore quietly, fingers fiddling with the button of his shirt, then his zipper, lifting his hips up to shove his jeans down over his hips.

One hand slipped inside his boxers to free himself while the other tentatively took hold of the toy again.

“God, am I a pervert now? What am I doing…”

He grimaced at his actions and sighed. Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t — none of that mattered right now when his mind was fogged with thoughts of you.

Hyunjin spat on his palm and slid it up and down on his cock a few times, shuddering at the cold and slick feeling.

He imagined your sweet voice calling to him as he sucked in a breath, picturing you bent over in front of him, grinding your hips against his. Hyunjin swiped his thumb over his tip, collecting the pre-cum that’s beaded there and dragging it down to mix with his spit.

He can already perfectly picture what you’d look like laid out beneath him with your legs spread out and your pretty pussy on full display, all just for him.

He switched the toy on, pressing it up against his tip as he moaned from the sudden vibration simulating his dick.

He scoffed out a laugh followed by a low grunt. “Y/n… I found you… I finally fucking found you.” And he doesn’t intend on losing you again either.

✩

Wooyoung squealed, pinching your elbow. “He so wants you.”

You smacked his hand away. “Stop feeding onto my delusions, woo.”

“No no no no—okay, yeah, but listen; why else would he offer to sort out the package thing?”

“‘Cause he’s sick of it showing up at his place?” You said as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“No, fool. It’s a tactic men like him use as an excuse to get in someone’s pants.”

Unamused by his bullshit, yet again. You told Wooyoung everything that happened yesterday while the both of you squealed like little high school girls.

Your manager, Jihyo, had to actually pop in a few times to tell you both to shut up.

“Stop it, Woo. Don’t make me more delulu than I already am—“

He gasped, subtly trying to slap your arm to get your attention. “Noona, noona, noona—“ he whispered frantically.

You groaned. “God, what?”

“Pretty boy alert, pretty boy alert—“

“Shit! Where?” You said, just as frantic. You glanced outside to see him approaching the shop with someone as you grabbed onto the collar of Wooyoung’s shirt. “Oh my god, Woo—“

He quickly slapped your hand away. “Don’t touch me, don’t even look at me, and don’t breathe towards my direction. Don’t wanna bring pretty boy’s hopes down, what if he thinks we’re a thing?”

Hyunjin and the other guy he came with both enter the shop.

He approached the counter and rolled up the sleeves of his compression shirt. “Hi, y/n.” He leaned his forearms on the counter while looking at you and, fuck, it took all your willpower to not glance down at his toned arms with veins popping attractively against his smooth skin.

You averted your gaze with difficulty, trying to focus on taking his order. “The usual?”

“You know me so well…” he spoke in an affectionate, almost aegyo-like tone, as he slightly stuck out his bottom lip to seem more cute and charming. He propped his elbow down and rested his chin on his palm.

“Quit it, you flirt.” His friend shoved Hyunjin away to scan the menu. You recognize him now (mainly due to his bright pink hair) – he’s Choi San from the engineering department. “We need to get back before coach returns from his bathroom break.” San rolled his eyes.

“He sits on the toilet for two hours doing god knows what, we’ll be fine.” Hyunjin replied dismissively with a single flick of his wrist.

“Whatever. Um… I’ll have a mint frappe.”

Wooyoung suddenly hopped in the conversation and you knew that glint in his eye all too well. The look of: I’m about to drop some shit on someone and no one can stop me.

“That’s so lame. What are you, five? Mint frappe is for virgins.”

You smacked the back of his head, looking at the both of them apologetically. “It’s fine. We go to the same college so I know him.” San scoffed, “He’s all talk but the last time he pulled a bitch was when RiverDale was still good.” Wooyoung was ready to bite back but you sent him a glare which made him hold his tongue.

“Will that be all?”

“And a strawberry shortcake. Please.”

He pulled out his card and you took it gingerly, your fingers trembling ever so slightly as they brushed against his. You couldn’t help but take one last glance at his hands again, admiring the veins that traced subtle patterns just beneath his smooth skin. You quickly averted your eyes, worried that he may notice you literally checking him out as you ran his card through the machine before handing it back.

After you placed the cake in a bag and Wooyoung handed them their drinks, Hyunjin turned to give you a sly wink just before San ushered him away, shaking his head in mild exasperation.

You tried to suppress the smile that rose unbidden to your lips as you watched them leave.

“He so wants you.” Wooyoung pinched your elbow.

“Shut up.”

✩

Ferret leaned forward, viewers grabbing a glimpse of the way his loose white tank top exposed his beautifully sculpted pecs before he leaned back. With pursed lips, he hummed. “Sorry to disappoint, but I won’t be doing the usual today.” The chat immediately exploded with concerns, assuming he won’t be doing anymore streams. “I have an announcement to make that I’ve been meaning to share with you all for a while now.”

@slut4u donated 100$: “NOOOO ARE YOU GONNA ANNOUNCE YOURE QUITTING?!?!?!”

That made your eyes widen. There’s no way he was quitting. He had his hand over his mouth as he scanned the chat, drawing out a long sigh to give the viewers false hope. “I’m afraid so, my little doves…” he brought his camera higher, only showing his mask. You squint your eyes.

@treasure006987 donated 90$: “okay, hun. you can drop the act👀 what do you have up your sleeve?”

You hadn’t missed the way his eyes turned into crescents when he brought the camera higher. Ferret lowered the camera again but this time he showcased a mischievous grin.

“Oh, sweet intelligent Treasure…” you breathed out, relaxing your tensed shoulders before coming to a realization. ‘Why the fuck was I so relieved just now?’

“Okay, fine. You caught me. I know I’ve mentioned a few times on my streams that I can’t really get off by using toys.” His fingers danced along his chest, thumb running over his nipples. He raked a hand through his hair, propping it behind his head to give you a perfect view of his muscular arm. “I decided to bend the rules a bit.”

You heard a faint buzzing sound. He tilted the camera again, showcasing the vibrator in his hand.

“Especially since this is the second time my Treasure’s come to watch my stream… why not leave a good second impression.”

Your heart fluttered and thumped against your ribcage as you tried not to squeal like a giddy high school girl. With a knuckle caught between your teeth, you watched him roll the tip of the vibrator around the outline of his thick cock laying snug beneath his tight boxers.

“Ohhhh fuckkk…. Treasure…” he muttered, thick with arousal. “Hope you’re—ha..—hope you’re playing with yourself while I get off on you…” shit, was him focusing on only one of his viewers even allowed?

It almost felt like it was a private show, specifically made for you.

- - -

“Came faster than I expected…” he plastered on an awkward smile as he wiped down his torso. “Still hope that you guys enjoyed it, I’m trying to step out of my comfort zone more.” You tossed the napkins you used to clean your fingers in the nearby bin. “How about this, I’ll make it up to you by staying to chat longer than I usually do. Actually – let me show you something,”

Ferret rummaged around under his desk. “I’m sharing this to give you all false hope for my upcoming streams,” he snickered, pulling out a box full of sex toys. “A friend sent me these. I’m sure you’ve heard of him; shout-out to bbokariix. Make sure to also follow his twitter; he posts NSFW asmr if you’re into that shit. Anyways, thank you riix for – uh –” he dug his hand through and pulled out something from the box. “-- for sending me a purple 16 inch dildo.”

You spat your water out, laughing.

“Along with a note that says: ‘remember to lubricate good’ — Yeah, no. I’m not shoving this shit up my ass. Sorry to disappoint.”

“What do I usually do in my free time? Well, sometimes I do art, mainly painting…�� scanning his set as he rambled, you took note of the way he preferred to keep his background pretty plain and clean. Just a normal room with a white sheeted bed at the back and black painted walls, other than that there wasn’t much to look at. You propped the laptop on your lap, bringing the screen closer to inspect what was sitting on his nightstand.

It wasn’t that you were a creepy sasaeng trying to pinpoint where his exact location was, it just happened to grab your attention. “Wait… are those the cups from our cafe?” Has he been mother fucking Hwang Hyunjin this whole time? You’re gonna feel hella dumb if he actually was. You shook your head. No way. Slim chance, there’s a million coffee shops out there and there are millions of people who just happen to like iced americanos…

But it wasn’t just that. From his hair to his complexion, it matched Hyunjin’s; fair and almost porcelain, hair that rippled with silk and framed his features beautifully. “Nah,” you said with obvious denial, “his voice is huskier! Right? Yeah, yeah…”

“….I enjoy doing portraits. I recently painted a huge self-portrait of myself. Buuuut… I’d enjoy painting your face white with my cum more.” He winked as you choked on your spit before he moved onto another comment. He really knew his way with words… you almost forgot that this is being streamed on an adult website and not just a casual talk between a streamer and his fans on Instagram or Twitch.

“What did I eat for dinner? Hm…

“does a strawberry shortcake count as dinner?”

You quickly shut your laptop closed and shoved it off your lap.

“No… there’s no way, right?” You laughed and planted your feet on the floor while you stood as your legs wobbled. “But he’s like… the most innocent guy you’ll meet. Or is he? Fuck, I’m going insane.”

Your rambling was cut short by the sound of your phone ringing.

“Hello?” You spoke and waited for the other line to respond back.

“Hey, girl!” Aya beamed. “You coming to that small get together at that barbecue place tomorrow night, right?”

“No—I mean, what?” You furrowed your brows. Since when was there a get-together? “No one told me about thi—“

“Great! I’ll pick you up at 7, don’t forget to wear something cute cause the hot babes from engineering are gonna be there. See you, darling!”

✩

Both you and Aya arrived at the restaurant and spotted some familiar faces waving over at you. You shuffled your way to their table and claimed a vacant seat.

Chan greeted you with a hug and a small pat on the head. “Hey! Glad you guys can make it.”

“My God, barely!” Aya cried out and plopped down on the space beside you. “Y/n called me over earlier so I can help her pick out an outfit and it took her over an hour to decide on a dress.” She explained. “I got so fed up I just grabbed the closest thing next to me and shoved this bitch in my car.” Chan threw his head back and laughed heartily. His broad shoulders shook with amusement as his dimples can’t help but bring a smile to your face as well.

Your fingers tugged at the hem of your short dress, feeling as though your thighs are too exposed. “I look like a prostitute.”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” Aya smacked your hand away. “Stop being so conservative like a grandma attending church on a Sunday morning. This is why you’re a virgin.” Her sense of style really clashed with your more modest preferences.

“Yeah, sorry, like, my bad that I don’t wear booty shorts that ride up my crack during winter.” You rolled your eyes.

Chan took a small swig of his drink before hopping back in the conversation. “You should stop playing league of legends with Wooyoung.. You’re starting to sound like him, Aya.” The mention of Wooyoung’s name piqued your interest. His absence was unusual for group gatherings, since usually he’d be the first one there.

“Speaking of, where’s he anyway?” The others shrugged, wondering the same thing regarding the lack of Wooyoung’s loud presence. It was unlike him to miss a get-together.

“San! Over here!”

You craned your neck to greet San but the sight of a specific someone had your heart beating thunderously.

They sat themselves across from you and Chan. Aya was the first to address it,

“Who’s this hottie you brought with you? New kid from your department?”

“Nah. He’s the rookie I met at the gym weeks ago.” San nudged him to go introduce himself. His eyes flickered to yours briefly which set your tummy in a stir.

“Hello, I’m Hyunjin. I just moved here not too long ago.”

Aya suddenly gasped and slapped your thigh which drew their attention to you. “Omg, is that the sexy neighbor you’ve been telling me about—“ she whispered in your ear. You would’ve appreciated it more if she were more subtle. You slapped her thigh back, with gritted teeth you whispered “Shut up!” Your face warmed up and you were tangled with the heat of his gaze.

You took in as much of his face before he buried his nose in the menu.

- - - -

You took another swig from the soju bottle, relishing the familiar burn as the liquid slid down your throat. You felt a slight buzz coming on, a pleasant warmth spreading through your limbs. You giggled at something your classmate said, though you hadn’t really heard them properly. Your thoughts became fuzzier by the minute.

“I think that’s enough drinking for tonight.” SnowFerret — no, Hyunjin said with amusement as you tried to grab another soju but accidentally knocked it over but he instinctively caught the bottle just in time.

Chan’s brows furrowed in concern. “Man… who knew y/n is such a heavy drinker.” He scratched his cheek in thought. “Aya, can you take her home?”

Aya suddenly stood up with an apologetic look on her face. “I’m really sorry but something came up and my girlfriend needed to be picked up from her workplace.” Chan waved a dismissive hand and told her to drive safe as she kissed your drunk state on the forehead and gave Chan a quick side-hug. Before she went to go leave, she flashed you a subtle wink

Hyunjin piped in. “I can take her,” he offered. “We’re neighbors so it’s no trouble at all.” Chan looked relieved, thanking him and turned to you who still sat there in a drunken daze.

“Well, good luck mate, I think you’ll need it.”

- - - -

The elevator doors slid open and he guided you inside, letting you lean against him for support. Your breathing was slow and heavy as the effects of the alcohol continued to weigh on you. As the elevator began its ascent, he glanced down at you who had your eyes closed. The sight tugged at his heartstrings as he wrapped an arm around your waist to steady you.

“So cute…”

When the elevator reached your floor, he gently nudged you. “We’re here.” He whispered with his lips pressed against the shell of your ear. His voice sent shivers down your spine and with hazy eyes and a drunken smile, Hyunjin patted down the pockets of your dress to look for your keys till he received a text notification from San.

Choi San🗻: ‘u left her purse at the restaurant. L stoopid beetch 🍆🍑💦’

“Shit.” He muttered and unlocked the door to his apartment instead. Hyunjin gently helped you onto his bed, propping the pillows behind your back to keep you comfortable. “Wait here, I’ll get you some clothes to change into.”

“Nooo…” you whined and grabbed his collar. “Jush stay heeereee…” pulling him towards you with surprising strength for someone so intoxicated. He lost his balance and stumbled forward, forearm instinctively braced by your head on the pillow while the other found your waist.

His breath hitched as he gazed down at you, taking in your features blurred by drunkenness but still undeniably gorgeous in his eyes. Lush lips slightly parted, eyes heavy-lidded yet full of longing. An aching tenderness welled up within him, yearning to soothe the haze of intoxication with something more lasting and true.

Your arms wound around him, breaths mingled and faces only inches apart. “No? But isn’t this,” he hooked his finger under the strap of your bra, pulled it, and let it slap back against your skin. “Uncomfortable?” You arched your body into his as his words stirred up something in your brain.

You muttered something quietly. Hyunjin leaned forward and brought his face towards your neck to hear you better. “Then take it off for me, why don’t you…” you gave a soft playful giggle then patted his cheek in a patronizing way.

“Fuck, don’t say that.” He said sternly, breathless almost. His fingertips ghosted over the plush of your thigh, trailing it up your dress.

He suddenly stopped. “Sorry, um,” you whined at the lack of his warmth.

“Why’d you stop?”

“You’re drunk.” Though is it directed at you or a reminder to him?

Your thighs clenched, and he took note of that. Hyunjin didn’t wanna take advantage of you while you were still intoxicated. You can’t recall a time you’ve been this horny and it’s over your own neighbor. Your hand landed on his chest and dropped to his abdomen. “Don’t…” you slurred, feeling his firm abs underneath your fingers felt like an electric current snapping all the way to your thighs.

The alcohol then spoke for you. “I know your secret.” He cradled your cheek in his hand and ignored the way the uncomfortable tent in his pants pressed up against your leg.

“Is that so?”

You hummed. “You’re this guy… this guy I follow. He has this, um, wackass Duolingo generated name,” you snapped your fingers, trying to remember.

“Yeah?” Before he could process what was happening, your lips were suddenly on his. He made no effort to resist nor pull away as he even tugged you insistently closer. Your mouths slanted together hungrily, your other hand running up his nape and tangling in his hair. Hyunjin could taste the remnants of the alcohol on your tongue but underneath it was the unmistakable flavour of yourself — it also intoxicated him, in an entirely different way.

Yielding to the kiss, Hyunjin shifted, so that his knee was pressed up against your heat. You made a tiny noise and moaned against his lips. “SnowFerret.” He stopped and pulled back slightly to look at you.

“What?”

“You’re SnowFerret,” You repeated.

He showed no signs of surprise or discomfort despite the cat being out of the bag. He plastered on no outward reaction but his thoughts were racing along with the fast thump of his heart. “Am I now?”

There will be time for confrontation later, for now he simply savoured the intimacy of the moment. Leaning once more, he kissed you tenderly, relishing the feel of your soft lips.

One hand tangled in your hair while the other held your waist firmly against his. You grasped his shirt as your tongues fought against each other. “You’re a fan, huh… you enjoy my content, baby? You enjoy watching me fuck my own fist?” Your legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him impossibly closer as he softly sucked on your lower lip.

“Wanna know another secret?

“I can never stream without having you in my thoughts like a fucking plague.” Hyunjin whispered between kisses along your jaw and down your neck, leaving a trail of heat wherever his lips touched, nipping softly at your pulse point which drew a gasp from your lips. “You know,” he whispered into your skin as his thumb flicked your hardened nipple through the thin fabric of dress, sending shivers down your spine.

“I hate you for leaving me.” He caught himself before going any further as he groaned in frustration and raked his nails on the bed sheets.

Hyunjin lifted himself up to gaze into your half-lidded eyes still clouded from the alcohol. He wanted to say so much, but he knew that in your current state his words might seem confusing. That was the point. He hoped that you’d forget everything by morning.

"I hate you for making me think you'd come back.”

His thumb stroked over your lips as if tracing the curve of each syllable. "I hate you for making me so insane about everything about you, that all these years I couldn’t think of anything else but to feel these lips again.

“I even hate myself for still wanting you after all this time,” he scoffed out a laugh.

“I hate you. But good luck getting rid of me.”

a.n: ok, this isnt the ceo hyun fic i promised but yk what?

🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️💨💨

also, one scene inspired by the manhwa called full volume. not proofread.

#reader insert #stray kids #kpop scenarios #kpop x reader #x reader #ateez wooyoung #ateez san #hyunjin x reader #skz hyunjin #hyunjin smut #stray kids smut #smutwarning #snowferret

622 notes · View notes

goldsainz · 1 year

Note

ur writing is so beautiful omg, so i was wondering if you could do lewis x actress!reader? something angsty idk

YOU’RE LOSING ME — one shot.

pairing: lewis hamilton x reader

MASTERLIST.

summary: you have tried your best, but despite your valiant efforts, he just doesn’t see you anymore.

warnings: angst, cursing, a LOT (like a lot) of taylor references.

NOTE: YAY A LEWIS PIECE!!! i love this man so much makes me happy that someone asked me to write for him, so thank youuuuuu 🫶🫶 remember this is all fiction, it’s not meant to be taken literally. also, there won’t be a part 2, so pls don’t ask for one.

[ word count: 2,6k ]

You loved Lewis, and you knew he loved you. It wasn’t a matter of love, it was about showing up and making you feel wanted.

You knew love. You knew it was sweet, and had its sour moments, but it was about resilience and the want to be there for your loved ones. And love shouldn’t feel the way it did, it shouldn’t form a lump in your throat when he kissed you, it shouldn’t want to make you cry, it especially shouldn’t have made you feel lost.

You had spent endless nights sitting in the dark of your shared room, wondering if it was time. Maybe those feelings would go away, you knew Lewis was going through a rough time with Mercedes and his pursuit for an 8th WDC. And you were so, so supportive, but there wasn’t much more you could give. Should you throw out everything you had built together, or keep it?

There were moments in which you remained silent, keeping each thought you had to yourself just to not ruin your day. You just glared at him, hoping he would realise something was wrong, that maybe you did have things to talk about, but he never did. He just kissed your forehead, and carried on with his day.

You had become accustomed to him coming home late, to the weeks without him. It was a part of his job, and even if you had wanted to accompany him, your job demanded too much of you to do so.

Lewis was a popular person, and despite being very reserved, he still had many fans and people that admired him all around. His attention was always drawn to others, jumping from conversation to conversation, pausing your chats to greet whomever he recognised. It was exhausting, but you pushed through because he was the love of your life, the one you had been searching for your whole life.

After-parties were the best thing after award shows, it was much more intimate, and you didn't have to worry about unwanted attention. You could let loose for a while, the pressure of always being in front of a camera leaving you as you chatted the night away, drinking every now and then as to numb some of your worries.

You watch people laughing, having the time of their lives, while you wallow by the bar of your own party. You feel forgettable, but so needed at the same time, people kiss your cheeks and congratulate you for your award winning performance and the achievement you accomplished, and all you do is smile at everyone. You feel like a fraud, acting like you're great when in reality you are screaming on the inside.

“Is Lewis here?” One of your castmates asks you, making you search for him in the crowd.

“Yeah, he’s with his friends.” You say with the best smile you can muster.

“Doesn’t it bother you that he's not with you?”

“I’m sorry?” The question startles you, tilting your head to the side as the emotion from your face fades.

“I mean, it’s not every day you win a golden globe for best actress, shouldn’t he be with you?”

“He’s a very busy man, it doesn't bother me, there’s still so much time to celebrate.” You say with a laugh, brushing off the comment.

“Ugh, you’re such couple goals. It makes me jealous, honestly.”

“Well, it has been six years.” You almost cringe at the bad joke, but fortunately she just laughs. You smile at her, bidding her a good night as you leave to socialise.

The party is at its peak, people are dancing anywhere and everywhere, shoes are discarded around as the dancing gets to them.

“Y/N, get over here!” Miles, Lewis’ friend, shouts at you.

Walking through a crowd of drunk people is near impossible, it takes a lot of patience but you finally reach your boyfriend and his friends. You instantly sit next to Lewis, his knee brushing yours, but other than that, no further contact happens.

It should worry you, it does, but you’ve learnt to not question his attitude. You don’t want to start a fight on your special night, not with all of the people around you, not when he’s finally somewhere with you.

“Hi, guys.” You say, smiling at everyone.

“We wanted to see you, you’ve been everywhere all night!” The comment almost makes you scoff, you’ve looked for Lewis and he is always somewhere else, something always calls his attention when you reach him

“You know how it is.” His friends all laugh at the comment, but he just looks at you with a little smile.

“Well, now that you’re here, the group is complete.”

“It’s always nice to see all of you, thank you for coming, by the way.”

“As if we would ever miss this!” Another of his friends says, motioning to the place with his hands.

You try to intertwine your fingers to your boyfriend’s, initiating any sort of contact to try and mend his poor behaviour in front of his friends. They’re all too drunk to notice the awkwardness, but you feel it, it has been suffocating you for months.

“I’m glad you’re having fun then.”

The conversation flows nicely enough. It serves as a distraction from the indifference Lewis gives you. You’re the best at the party, you’re the reason the party is even happening, and yet you still fade in the background of his thoughts.

“So, how long are you here in London for?” Riley, one of his friend’s girlfriends, asks you, a drink in her hand.

“I’m leaving on wednesday, but I’m probably gonna be back in England for the Grand Prix.” You look at Lewis, who turns to you at the same time.

“That’s great! I could neer travel as much as you guys do.”

“It’s part of the job, but we make it work.” You wait for Lewis to support your statement, but he just looks away.

“When you get married, I need to be there. Your love story is one for the books, girl.” The mention of marriage makes you smile, it’s the one thing you’ve wanted with Lewis since you met him. It’s also the first thing that truly made you smile since you sat down with the group of friends.

Your eyes look down at your bare finger, rubbing the spot where an engagement ring could be if Lewis ever asked you the big question.

“We’re not in a rush to get married.” Is what Lewis says to her. It’s the first time he’s spoken with you included in a conversation, and all you can do is keep smiling. You push away the pain, the knot that forms in your throat almost makes you break.

“We have a lot on our plates, you know? But I’ll make sure you're on the guest list when the time comes.” If Riley sensed anything off, her face is not anything to go by. You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, hoping to get a way for even a second. And just like that, you desperately want the night to be over.

Arriving at your shared home is nothing short of uncomfortable. The silence while your chauffeur drove you both home made your eyes gloss over, you didn’t know how much longer you would be able to keep your tears at bay, but you needed to be strong.

You throw your shoes by the doorway, eager to go to sleep and forget the fact that Lewis indirectly said he didn’t want to get married to you. You’ve been together for six years, he knows you would love to get married, that if he asked you would say yes. It's him who repels the idea, though he once said he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, he now is in no rush to truly settle down with you.

It makes you spiral. Maybe it’s you who makes it difficult to get married, you know you're not the easiest person in the world, but Lewis isn’t either, but you never fault him for it. He says he doesn't understand many things you do, and you tell him you know he doesn't. You’re dying inside with all of the things unsaid between you, and he doesn't see it.

You need him to say something, to do anything to show that he still cares. And as you watch him do his skincare routine, something you used to do together as he taught you how to take care of yourself better, you can’t seem to shake the feeling creeping up on you. That this won't go away, you’re not going through a rough patch, there isn’t a cure to your situation. You just need to let go.

“Lewis?” You call out, sitting on your bed as you prepare for whatever may happen. He hums in response, too caught up on his stuff.

“Can you come here when you’re done, please?”

“Sure.”

When he finishes up in the bathroom, he goes to lay down on the bed. You watch him, how he doesn't seem bothered by the indecision surrounding the room, how grey you have become in all of your overthinking.

“We’re okay, right?” It’s as if time stops. Lewis, who was calmly laying on the bed, has now frozen on his spot. You search his face in hopes to know what he’s thinking, but you can’t. You don’t know him like you used to, the person you hoped would never become a stranger, was now nearing that.

You don’t know if it's his long pause of silence that confirms what you already knew, but hoped wasn't true, or if it’s the fact that you can’t believe you hoped for any type of response.

“I need to know if we’re okay, Lewis.” You turn your whole body to look at him, silently begging him to say something.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Y/N.” He drags his hands over his face, like the conversation is an annoyance to him , something he can't even consider entertaining. It makes the first tear fall down your face, watching the man you love be so dismissive.

“Anything, literally anything, Lewis.”

“We just had a great night, Y/N. Let’s not ruin it and talk about this some other time, alright? I’m very tired, I have a very busy week ahead, and would like to rest a little.”

It’s a poor excuse, you both know it, it’s written all over his face. You consider letting it go, apologising as you have before, but something about his dismissal makes you angry. It’s the final straw, the last time you will take the blame for trying to fix your relationship, for trying to understand.

“Is that why you won’t marry me?” Your voice breaks in between your words, the raw emotion covering your eyes as you watch him close his eyes in frustration.

“What the fuck are you even talking about right now?”

You scoff at his words, “You said we’re not in a rush to get married.”

“Because we’re not. It’s not a good time, Y/N, and you know it.” His voice is cold, making you wince.

“For you! There’s never a good enough time with you, there’s always something more important.”

“Oh, come on, don’t put this on me.” He stands up from where he is, making his way to the kitchen. You don’t hesitate to follow him, not ready to give up on your conversation.

“I want to settle down, Lewis, we’ve talked about this a thousand times.” You wipe your tears away, trying to compose yourself. “You know that if you ask me I would say yes. Do you even know how embarrassing it is to have everyone ask me when I’m gonna be your bride? All of our friends are getting married, so they practically hand me the bouquet now, and each time you act like nothing happened.”

He pours himself a glass of water, not looking at you, ignoring your presence as if he hopes his indifference will make you go away.

“I love you, why isn't that enough?”

“Do you?” He glances at you, and you finally see the look in his eyes. He doesn't want to fight you, he doesn't want to fight for your relationship. Despite all of the times he acted oblivious, he knew you were reaching a breaking point, he knew you were beating yourself over the impending doom of your relationship, and he said nothing.

You know your pain is an imposition. You know he tolerates it, and you don't question it. You just make your peace with it, even if it means to lie to yourself. There is no doubt in your mind that he loves you, but you don't think he loves you enough, not as he once did, anyway.

“So that's it? Our relationship gets hard and you want to leave?”

“That’s not at all what I said.”

“Well, it’s what you’re implying.”

“I just want you to talk to me, to fight for us. That’s all I want.” You rest your elbows on the kitchen counter, placing your head on the palms of your hands, feeling tears soak them.

Lewis shakes his head, leaving the kitchen. You don’t know where he is going, you don’t make an effort to follow him this time. He’s losing you, and he isn't stopping his life to make you stay or even watch you go.

You want him to choose you, you’re right there with him for all of his fights, always on the front line. You never hesitate to bleed for him, yet he does not risk anything. It seems unfathomable that the man you hoped to never lose, actually lost you. It seemed like so long ago when you believed forever was the direction your relationship would take, he changed and you unfortunately stayed the same.

You hear his footsteps near you, but you don’t lift your head to look at him. Not when you know that if you do you’ll truly break, you’ll have to say goodbye to years of memories, you’ll have to walk away once and for all.

You’re shocked when you feel him wrap his arms around your waist, his chest pressed against your back. You don’t tense at the touch, you would never, there isn't an ounce of you that doesn't crave all of the contact lost between you. It’s all you've wanted lately, yet it doesn't change a thing. He walked out a long time ago, and now you have to do the same.

“This won’t work, Lewis.”

“I know.”

“I gave it my all, you know?” You whisper, and you feel him press a kiss to the side of your neck, but there are no longer butterflies when he does so, just a broken heart that won't start for him anymore. Your heart was glass, and he dropped it.

“I know you did.” He whispers back.

You want to ask him, if he wished he would’ve put up more of a fight, but you don't think you could deal with the silence after. You know it’s not you, that it’s him, that despite all your faults loving him was never one.

And you’ll try to forget about it. Try to pretend you will find someone who will be equal to Lewis, but you’ll remain right where he left you. And you won’t talk about it, just act like it’s for the best. But it would’ve been fun if he would've been the one.

892 notes · View notes

cheesus-doodles · 5 months

Note

Yoo, it’s Winky Wink. Since your reader has always been the innocent to a fault type and very motherly, I wonder how tr boys will react if reader is the typical girl in shoujo manga? I am not talking about the protagonist of the shoujo manga, but those fan girls in the bg. This reader is very girly, she follow the trend, knows every hot boys at the school, attend sport gams to meet the star of the sport club and such. Although the toman or the tr boys are good looking themselves, but reader doesn’t see them as men or potential love interest, so she always gushing about how hot this sempai from class b is and such with them. Reader might be even drag them to clothing stores, so the boys can be the judge the outfit for her potential future dates. I also can see this reader complaining and whining on how her youth is wasted when this is the prime time to fall in love and such.

Y'know, that type of girl, lol.

the vote has spoken! i've watched exactly one (1) shoujo anime, and that was fruit basket - decided to write this as each boy on their own cause writing them as a whole group is getting too predictable...

Masterlist

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Mikey: Gets very annoyed and pissy whenever you act like that around him, and will look to eliminate the threat outright and as soon as possible. Don't get him wrong, Mikey likes that you put effort into what you wear and how you look, and would be more than happy to go with you to the store since being seen next to such a pretty princess is an ego booster whether he actually liked you that way or not. But he doesn't like in the slightest that you aren't doing it just for him. This boy simply can’t understand what’s so fantastic about anyone else but him, and absolutely will not stand for this disre spect - how dare you call another boy hot in front of him? How dare you fawn over some shit stain instead of focusing all your attention on pampering him? Starts off whining and trying to pull you away, insisting that you give him the affection he deserves and forbidding you from going to sport games, but when this doesn’t work is when the Toman President starts to get downright pissed. This delinquent couldn't be more bothered to learn who is popular or why you are shrieking about someone else, the moment they catch your attention is the moment they are going down. Sports stars, older students, really don't matter, Mikey will find them and he will beat the shit out of every single one of them the next time he catches them around. He wouldn’t care if there is an audience or not, or whether you are part of the eyes watching, this blond boy makes sure that he puts all these threats out for good by breaking their noses and maybe an arm or a leg. Not going to be so hot if they can barely stand. Grumpily returns for cuddles in your lap once he’s done.

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Draken: Much more lenient with gossip than Mikey will ever be, but will not hesitate to punish any rule-breaking on his watch, be it you or the poor student getting dragged into your mess. This boy thinks it probably just a phase, since the brothel girls back home do the same thing albeit with celebrities rather than school boys, and that you will get over it soon, so Draken will be more than happy to indulge you in your complaining and whining like he does for his adoptive family. Lets you rant to him about the latest trends and all the guys you think are hot shots (though be prepared for this blond boy to interject with his own thoughts about the subject and how he could easily beat them all). Enjoys going shopping with you, and will give you his opinion on whether the outfit was appropriate or not, but this boy is already ready to never let you take even a step closer to those disgusting boys. And will absolutely not even discuss the mere idea of you dating them *shudders*. If the Toman Vice Captain hasn’t already had them dragged away and threatened by the rest of the Toman members, Draken will simply redirect you every time you try to go and meet/see one of those “hot boys”. Doesn’t like to have to beat people up in your presence, so he’ll turn you around when you try to make your way to a sports game or another classroom, but if you persist, this boy has no issue simply picking you up, tucking you under his elbow and walk off and out of your school. Plops you onto his motorbike and takes you somewhere else to distract you.

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Mitsuya: Understands everything that you are saying and where you are coming from, but already dreading the day that his younger sisters become interested in boys (if ever). Because he already feels horrid that you have reached that phase, can’t imagine having to deal with it another two times, but Mitsuya would never tell you that. This boy is generally pretty level headed and doesn’t like to fight without very good reason, so rest assured that he will not be beating your schoolmates right and left if they don’t give him any excuse to do so. More likely to discourage you from pursuing boys at your school by getting the best gossip scoops about them and letting you in on all the reasons you should stay away from boys like them. And I don’t doubt that he would be against starting those nasty rumors himself either - he didn’t say that he wouldn’t play dirty. At least the one part he really enjoys is going clothes shopping with you, and out of all the Toman founders, you just know the Second Division Captain has the best fashion sense and will never lead you astray. Would even design and make the clothes himself if you let him, because it would be a good excuse to close to him and too busy to attend sport games and all. Of course you will have to spend all your free time with the crafting club and going fabric shopping with Mitsuya, you want your outfits to turn out perfect, don’t you?

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Baji: Beats them at their own game. You want a sports star? Guess he’s joining the sport clubs just to show you he can do way better than any other student in the school. Baji doesn’t attend the same school as you? Doesn’t matter either, by hook or by crook, he’ll join your school’s club anyway. Will show you that he is the superior athlete once and for all, and that your so-called hot boys aren’t shit next to him. This boy will even happily humiliate the entire club in the process, bragging that he doesn’t even need training to sweep the floor with them (what he doesn’t tell you is that he secretly practices by himself, but eh). The only thing he won’t be able to beat them at is academics, but he is definitely not below sabotaging the others so that they do worse than him, be it by breaking their fingers so they can’t write, or something more mundane like putting their ‘confiscated’ homework through the toilet while they watch. Doesn’t want to risk losing you over something as petty as him throwing hands with your schoolmates or your disgustingly precious ‘senpais’, so Baji is limited to working around the system. That is, as long as you don’t seem to be getting a tad too close for comfort to any one of them, cause in that case all bets are off. Would try to prevent this by clinging to you as much as possible, but even that has its limits. Baji would happily tag along and clothes shop with you regardless, and will weigh in on what he thinks, though take note that he does not exactly have the best fashion sense - will absolutely start panicking and ask his mom for tips and what the latest fashion trend is before going out with you.

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Kazutora: Starts crying immediately the moment you start talking about anyone but him (and well, he makes an exception for the rest of the Toman founders as well he supposes). Straight up just tears up and accuses you of cheating on him, clings to you and refuses to let go until you apologize - doesn’t matter if you are in the middle of class or in the middle of the corridor. Kazutora has an iron grip and strength way beyond what you will ever have, and if this boy has his arms around you, you aren’t going anywhere. If he thinks that the situation was getting worse and out of his control, i.e. you proclaim that you have a crush on so and so sport athlete, he will refuse to let you go to school at all because all those “evil fucks” brainwashing you are there. Would even purposely get you into trouble with your teachers and the school by hiding your homework from you, or messing your classroom up and getting it blamed on you. Which would of course lead to you opting to hang out with him instead, preferably somewhere that was empty of other people so that nothing can steal your attention away from him. Nothing would make him happier than being invited to go shopping with you, but much like Baji, this boy doesn’t exactly have any fashion sense. Will probably insist that the leopard print pattern he favors looks good on you and nothing else, so be prepared to make your own decisions. No doubt Kazutora will go behind your back and beat the living shit out of any guy he thinks is a bit too attractive once his jealousy reaches boiling point, making sure that he breaks whatever is necessary to make them less attractive.

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Pah-chin: Doesn’t mean to, but this boy will accidentally give you all the worst advice known to mankind when you do end up whining about wasting your youth. Pah is very unsure about what you talk about or why you want to go and see other students, but this boy doesn’t stop you from doing so as long as he gets to come along. This boy is pretty clueless to say the least, and will resort to asking Peh what he should do when you tell him that your youth was fleeting. Does that mean that you were sick and dying? Oh, okay it means that you are in love - which is a big no no even in Pah’s books. Fortunately with how fierce Pah naturally looks without even trying, no doubt any popular guys are already keeping a wide circle from you whenever he is around. Plus the advice he gives you just scares them away even more, because this boy has no idea what he is doing without Peh there. And you absolutely would not be able to get Pah to leave you alone, this Third Division Captain will attend every single sports game just to make sure that you weren’t trying anything funny. Also another Toman founder that doesn’t have any fashion sense whatsoever, so I would hold off asking for advice on your outfits as well, but upside is that he will absolutely pay for your outfits if you let him.

284 notes · View notes

tonicandjins · 1 year

Text

find your way back home | lee donghyuck

pairing: lee donghyuck | haechan x female reader

word count: 22.5k

genre: fluff, some mentions of sex, ANGST and nostalgia lots of it, haechan-centric, slow burn

warnings: mentions of sex, excessive drinking, will talk about insomnia and depression

summary: nct’s haechan gets into a scandal after a night of drinking his ass off in hongdae, which prompts the management to put him in an indefinite hiatus. and it’s not like it’s the first time, because over the past months, haechan’s drinking problem had gone worse. hence, his parents send him back to jeju island for some healing time because his parents and managers think that maybe some time home would help. haechan laughs at the thought. if medication can’t, what can jeju island do? besides, he hasn’t been there in literal years.

author's note: this is my favorite work so far, which is why it took this long. i put my heart in here. please let me know which one is your favorite line/scene. this is also very heachan-centric, so please don't expect a lot of the reader's POV. also, may i recommend you to listen to Moon, Be There For You, Never Goodbye by NCT DREAM, Good Person by Haechan himself, and Black Clouds by NCT 127 as you read this! :) TIP ME HERE.

taglist: @mosviqu @matchahyuck @sirens-dreams @sundamariis @lovingvoidgoatee @anjaenha @thiccfullsun @665321-more @hyuckiesoftie @aliceinwhateverland @tddyhyck @anniebyanto @novawona @gimmehyuck @blxshqueen @blitz-fall @byungbyungbaek @calssunflower @funkygoose @carelessshootanonymous-blog @jungwooforever @budibbly @positionslab @beomyomom @jexizia @4everhyucks

disclaimer: names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of my imagination or used in a fictitious manner. i do not claim to own or to have invented any copyrighted characters or concepts that i write about.

Y/N = your name, Y/C/N = your childhood nickname

Haechan’s dream has always been the spotlight.

His Mother would tell her friends stories of how he would always tell her he’d be a star someday, a grin flashing across his small face on pictures and clips of him taking a stage as small as the podium in his first grade classroom, and would proudly brag that his first-born son made it to the world stage. She was so proud that she’d have his portfolio picture as her display image in her social media accounts. As a musician herself, she’d play NCT’s music out loud and would even go an extra mile by using their b-side songs when teaching their students at their small but proud music academy in the big city of Seoul. Haechan’s pictures are all over the small place they’d rented for their small business, two floors—the vocal lessons facilitated on the second floor and piano and guitar on the ground floor—and the humble husband and wife would proudly say the most successful student they’d ever had was Lee Donghyuck, now better known as Haechan.

Haechan allows her to take credit of it all, his success, because after all, she’d been the one to encourage her to take a chance at SM Entertainment’s infamous Saturday auditions. People tell Haechan he works hard, but nobody really works harder than his Mother. With sheer determination and a passionate heart, his mother would take little Donghyuck to every stage—no matter how small. Young and bright, he remembers being dragged from one contest to another, even when their family still lived in Jeju, and he’d win all of them for her. He’d take the spotlight just to see her happy and proud.

At times, Haechan wonders how much effort his mother had really put into his career. If he thinks about it now, it started with their entire family moving out of Jeju Island, completely uprooting their entire lives from the simple life in the island to give her dream a chance. People say that Haechan was born a star, that SM got lucky to have a child prodigy offer himself—bare and whole and real—who was willing to give up his childhood and education for a shot in the dark. His father had been reluctant about it, saying that they’d have to give up their entire life savings to merely move to Seoul—considering plane tickets and security deposits need to be sent prior to moving—and that taking a loan wouldn’t be ideal when they could barely make ends meet with four children growing up too fast. A shot in the dark, a flip of a coin, the luck of a draw. They say he was meant for this, was meant for the stage and the lights and the applause, but to Haechan, it’s not really fate. It’s just his mother doing all the work, and he’d take the spotlight for her.

Because Haechan likes the attention. He likes the good and the bad. The cheers and the applause. The painful arm slaps from Mark when he’s annoyed him enough. The head pats and hugs Taeil gives him when he’s being cute and when he lives up to his maknae image. The viral videos of him all over the internet for simply walking down the stage.

And his mother couldn’t be prouder to have a reliable son like him. She had always dreamed of the spotlight herself, but the timing was never right for her—hence Haechan living her dream, her spotlight, had been one of, if not the biggest accomplishments of her life.

The night is cold. Haechan feels dizzy when flashes of the lights coming from the small window of the bar’s building hit his face. He hates the lights, he hates being seen, and it makes him throw up when, as soon as he closes his eyes, it’s his mother that he sees.

Would his mother still be so proud when she learns that, after a long weekend of a back to back concert with NCT 127, his son would be getting a blowjob from a stranger at the back of some sleazy bar he had found online?

“Please tell me this isn’t real.”

Mark Lee is only twenty-three, but with how his forehead’s skin is wrinkling, he might as well invest in several sessions of botox shots. He’s holding his phone up to Haechan’s face, as if bringing the device closer to the younger’s eyes would deny the article that Dispatch uploaded at five in the fucking morning.

“I didn’t sleep with her,” Haechan denies, voice bored, tired. “We might have done other things, but I didn’t sleep with her.”

Mark lets out a groan of frustration, throwing his phone behind Haechan, the device landing on the carpeted floor. Haechan doesn’t even flinch even though it almost hit him.

“Haechan, what the fuck is going on, man?” Mark asks, demands to know what really is going on with his best friend, or whoever he’s speaking with now. “You know SM is going to kill you, right?”

Haechan shrugs. “What are they gonna do? Fire me?”

“You know they can!” Mark shouts, walking back and forth while Haechan remains seated on the couch, unbothered. “You’ve seen them do it! To our seniors! To the people you trained with. You think you’re big time, huh? That just because you’re essential in both units, they wouldn’t send you to some dungeon?”

Haechan laughs bitterly. He reckons being placed in a dungeon would be much better than the hell he’s living in now. “Now that,” he mocks. “Would be the ultimate dream.”

“You’re a fucking nightmare,” Mark says, pointing a finger to Haechan, enunciating each syllable so it goes through his skull.

But nothing can really make Lee Haechan budge anymore—not an expensive, hard device laterally thrown to his face, and not even his best friend (if he could still call him that) blatantly showing how disgusted he is with him—and he can’t really blame anyone. It used to he frightening to see Mark angry at something he did. Used to.

Haechan doesn’t really know what to say, so he chuckles bitterly and leans his head back so that it’s against the backrest, pondering whether it’s a good time to drink the bottle of vodka he’s been keeping under his bed.

“It’s funny because I don’t even know what having a nightmare feels like.”

Mark huffs, seemingly had given up on Haechan, then leaves the room alongside the small piece of sanity that the younger had left. Haechan bolts, sitting up real quick, but too slow because Mark is already out of the door. Haechan likes attention, and even though Mark Lee makes his head hurt, he likes the attention. Haechan likes that Mark is angry at him.

His manager calls him next, (as expected) voice angry as if he’s about to explode, and tells him his publicist is doing her very best to answer every god damn call from every magazine and news outlet. But none of those magazine and news outlets who have called had posted something to clear the situation; none of them were buying it. Haechan thinks it’s fucking ridiculous anyway. There were pictures and videos of him sneaking out with Hana or Hari, whatever her name was, and a clip of him zipping his pants up as they try to hide from the flashes of lights. Who the fuck would believe he was just out exploring with his 35-year old, happily-married-with-kids personal assistant?

And it’s too late, anyway, because what was the point of it all when his most loyal and long-time fan sites have all shut down overnight, his Instagram followers reducing down to five million in a matter of hours since Dispatch posted that article, and his best friends blatantly ignoring him with the exception of Mark confronting him, but of course, Haechan had to screw that up, too.

“They’re calling you in for a meeting,” his manager concludes with a sigh after elaborating what had been done to patch up the entire mess. “Be ready for whatever they have to say. Don’t expect me to have your back because I’m over it, Haechan. Whatever they decide to do with you, you fucking deserve it.”

The call ends. Haechan didn’t even get to talk.

He looks at the screen of his phone. There were a million of calls and text messages from his agency, half of it were from his mother, and the last thing he really wants now is to hear her voice. He scrolls through it all, chest tightening when he realizes nobody from Jaemin, Renjun and Jeno had tried to call him. Haechan knows he’s an asshole, deserving to be the receiving end of all the shouting and cussing, and he’s probably made the dumbest mistake of his entire life, but he’d live the stardom’s life long enough, he’d be okay. But a call from his best friends would have been a breather.

Haechan understands, what his manager said, that he shouldn’t really expect anyone to have his back after all that’s transpired in the last few of months.

You see, Haechan developed insomnia. He’d look the symptoms up in the internet, and it’s described as a common sleeping disorder that can make it hard for people to fall asleep, or if one’s attempt to drift off is successful, to stay asleep. Taeyong had said it’s a common disorder for idols, that their seniors from groups like EXO and SHINEE had all gone to psychologists for help, but Haechan didn’t really want to make a big deal out of it. He relied on what Naver offered him one morning when the sun’s already out and his eyes are still wide open.

Stress and anxiety were the major causes. Some resources say it could be from a poor sleeping environment such as an uncomfortable bed or bad lighting or temperature. One claims that it could also be from one’s lifestyle, like jetlag from traveling frequently, or drinking one too many caffeine-infused doses of fluids. It all could be factors why Haechan’s been getting 8-10 hours of sleep a week, and he acknowledges that he doesn’t really have the best lifestyle—and it’s not like he’s ever had the choice since NCT blew up.

So, he’d consulted Taeyong again, through a text, and all he’d gotten was a link to a study that insomnia can be caused by mental health conditions such as depression, followed by his therapist’s phone number.

Among all the causes he’d gathered, Haechan could confidently rule out depression because there’s no fucking way he’s sad. There’s barely any reason to be sad. Sure, he’d miss his siblings most of the time and he hates the feeling of seeing any of them cry whenever he had to leave, but nothing is more gratifying than the relief of seeing them happy whenever he comes home with luxurious gifts or plane tickets to Tokyo for a vacation. Haechan likes making people happy, and Mark tells him he’s always been a people pleaser. At times, he’d think his happiness depends on the happiness of the people he loves and values, and people around him are happy.

Hence, Haechan is happy.

Or at least, was happy.

Because the insomnia got worse—not that Haechan’s dealt with it enough to know whether it’s getting better or worse—but it was bad. He would come home exhausted as fuck after an entire day of dancing and singing, and he knows he’s tired because his body tells him so. Haechan would lie on bed, body drained from all energy, but his eyes would be wide open for an entire night. He’d only fall asleep when the sun’s started to seep through his curtains, a good hour before his manager would wake him for the next schedule. It was manageable, and the tour was a good excuse for the insomnia, but it followed him even on his days off, even in the beginning of the pandemic when there little to zero schedules that would have caused him anxiety or stress.

Therefore, reluctantly, he’d visited a doctor to get a prescription for some meds he could take to help him sleep. He’d lied, though, that it wasn’t that bad and that he would need it only on nights after shows, because he knew they’d only refer him to a therapist. Haechan doesn’t need a therapist. He could just talk to his mother about it, and she’d know what to say to make him feel better. To make him keep going.

It was fine until the melatonin supplements stopped working. Sometime last year, if he remembers right, when he thought he’d gone crazy because everything stopped working for him. There was a bottle of soju, half empty, from the fridge he had in the corner of the room he shared with Johnny, and he reckoned it could help. As soon as the bottle was empty, Haechan felt drowsy; he was out like the light half an hour later.

But just like the prescription from the doctor he can’t even remember the name of, drinking half a bottle worked. Johnny would give him suspicious looks when he would see Haechan stocking up soju inside their room, but he doesn’t ever say anything. Because alcohol made him sleep, until it didn’t. Until half a bottle stopped working. Until an entire bottle is no longer enough. Until Taeyong’s decided that there should be no alcohol inside anyone’s fridge, both fifth and tenth floors.

Hence, the drinking problem.

Haechan wonders what’s next. The sleeping problem, then the drinking problem. It looks like here is it, the next one: the scandal.

When Haechan was a trainee, his greatest fear was getting removed from the agency.

There was an assessment every quarter, and the CEO himself would sit down in a panel alongside other producers and choreographers to identify which of the trainees would move on to another level and which ones would have to go home. Each time they had to go through the assessment, Haechan, alongside other existing members of NCT, would spend long days inside the training room. He would fear that the CEO would ask him to rap all of a sudden because Haechan can’t rap to save his god damn life at that time. He would fear that his mother would receive a call and find out his beloved son, whom she spent so much money on just to get ballet classes, failed and would need to go home.

Today, Haechan fears none of those.

The decision to put him in an indefinite hiatus was quick to make, not that Haechan expected anything less.

The news was out the second they threw him out of the meeting room (but not before the CEO slapping him right across the face, his left cheek throbbing in pain he’s oddly happy he could feel) and his bags were packed before he could even tell his members. The dorms were empty when he arrived, and there was no time to visit Dream’s place; Haechan knew he could just call, or visit. His family lives twenty minutes away, a short ride from downtown. He’d figure it out, like he always would.

What fazes him is what he comes home to.

His father offers him a one-way ticket, says his mother is still too upset to look even at Haechan in the face, that she’s spending the night in her friend’s house. The domestic flight ticket is bound to Jeju Island, and it boards tomorrow morning.

“Your grandmother will be waiting for you,” his father says, eyes everywhere but Haechan’s. “Your mother thinks it would be the best for now. Your agency knows, of course, and they’re helping us ensure you get your privacy in Jeju-do. We just need you to stay there for a bit, Donghyuck. Might help.”

“Dad,” Haechan pleads, Dad sounding foreign to him now. He’s stopped calling him Dad years ago, right before he debuted in NCT, and had been calling him Father. He’s not sure why he’a suddenly calling him that now, perhaps it’s the sinking feeling in his stomach, but Haechan is desperate for another solution. “You can’t send me back in the island. I haven’t lived in grandmother’s house since I was twelve.”

“Don’t act like the place isn’t civilized, Donghyuck,” his father sighs. “You’ll be okay. You can take your expensive gaming laptop with you so you can entertain yourself while you’re on vacation. It’s only going to be a few months.”

“A few months?” Haechan cries. “I can’t live there anymore!”

“The agency decided not to terminate their contract with you,” his father reveals. “Apparently, you’re too talented to let go of. Your mother and I are very grateful they didn’t. All they want in return is for you to go back in six months—sober and full of life again. Your therapist suggests you go to a vacation.”

“I don’t have a therapist?”

“The doctor who prescribed you sleeping pills? You didn’t tell us you had insomnia.”

“Fuck you,” Haechan spits before he could even think about it. “Neither you nor mother thought of asking me what’s been going on. Dad, I wanted you to scold me. To punch me in the fucking gut and tell me I’ve ruined everything. I wanted mother to yell at me until my ear bleeds, so I can find the motivation to work hard and make her happy again.”

“Donghyuck, we–”

“Don’t call me that!” He yells. “The first thing that came to your mind was how grateful you are that I’m not fired from my job? I’m not some retirement plan! I’m your son!”

“Keep it down. Your siblings are–”

”Donghyuck-hyung?” Haechan turns. Gyeom stands at the end of the hallway, seemingly woken up from his slumber, and Dongmin hides behind the younger one to see what’s going on. Haechan doesn’t even see Seungyeon come out of her room. He just hears her door shut loudly, the lock clicking, and realize he fucked up big time.

He takes a look at the ticket from his father’s hand.

It’s ridiculous. If the melatonin pills he’s taking are not helping with his stupid insomnia, and drinking a bottle of soju works as equally as useless, what the fuck could work? They think a recreational vacation to fucking Jeju Island would do shit?

Fuck his parents, honestly.

Fuck his siblings for not even giving him a hug as soon as he entered their home.

Fuck his members for not checking up on him.

Fuck the entire god damn world.

He rips the ticket from his father’s hand and turns to leave, taking the same bags he’d brought in a few minutes ago. The flight is tomorrow morning, but Haechan calls a taxi to take him to the airport.

Sleeping (or at least, trying to) in the uncomfortable airport seats is a fucking pain in the ass, literally. But nothing more hurts than the look on his family’s face: the blankness in his father’s and the fright from his siblings.

Jeju fucking Island. Way to end the day.

When Haechan was younger, his grandmother would take him to the Camellia Hills on the weekends. While kids his age would be taken in Aqua Planet to see thousands of animals and plant species to ease their shoulders from studies, Haechan would be running around fields of camellia and hydrangea flowers. They would spend hours just walking around trees of over five hundred different kinds of wildflowers. His grandmother would take pictures of him and let him eat whatever he wanted at a nearby restaurant, and his siblings would always cry and complain why Nana only wanted to bring Haechan. There wasn’t a particular reason, of course, it was only because the younger ones were too difficult for their grandmother to look after on a trip to Camellia Hill. Little Donghyuckie was well-behaved albeit his bold and obnoxious nature. He would do whatever his Nana would ask him.

Haechan’s always claimed that he’s the favorite despite his grandmother repeatedly saying she doesn’t do favorites, and he knows deep in his heart that he is. He is, after all, the first grandchild, and he spent a lot of time with his Nana alone for many years while they were in Jeju.

His grandmother used to sing him to sleep at night. When his younger sister was born, Nana stayed with them in Seoul for a while to help his parents adjust to having two kids, considering Haechan’s age gap with Seungyeon is only a year. Nana made sure Haechan slept well every night, in a separate room from his parents because newborn Seungyeon who wouldn’t let anyone sleep past one in the morning. She’d sing him songs from The Beatles in broken English, and Haechan likes to think that even though both his parents were musicians, the reason why he could sing well was his Nana.

She eventually had to move back to Jeju Island as soon as the family had settled, but years later, at the age of seven, his grandfather died and Nana was left all alone to tend to their land and business, hence the Lee family packed their bags to stay at Nana’s supposedly for the summer, but ended up with the decision of staying for her.

Nana had problems sleeping when his grandfather died. Haechan used to find her awake when he’d need a glass of water or to go to the toilet at two in the morning. She’d be watching television, a nighttime talk show she used to like, or reading a book from his grandfather’s shelf. The lights in her home were always on.

So, Haechan started singing her to sleep just like how she did when he was a child.

She’d tell him, “Oh, my Donghyuckie, you have such a nice voice. Why don’t you sing more?”

Then she’d fall asleep while Haechan wondered why lovers die at different times, why one has to go first and the other is left on Earth trying to sleep well every night.

Upon his arrival in Jeju-do, his grandmother doesn’t pick him up from the airport like he’d expected, so he takes a taxi from the airport to her house. Haechan knows what their home looks like despite not visiting since his training days. They own a small hectare of land filled with tangerine trees, and his grandmother had been the sole operator of it all for many years until she had to start hiring people here and there to manage things for her when her age caught up with her. His father used to travel back and forth to see how things are here and there, but eventually stopped when Nana had found people she can rely on—which Haechan is very glad about.

He must be an asshole, or a prick, or a hypocrite to even say this but he’s been thinking about her more often than he calls. If he recalls right, the last time he’d called was three months ago, on her birthday, but it was two-minute exchange of generic how are yous and please stay healthys. She would call, of course, but Haechan would always have something as an excuse: a dance practice, a trip to Japan for a show, a photoshoot, something. Something to cover up the fact that he hasn’t been the best grandson to her in a long time.

He arrives and the first thing he notices is a hammock hanging in between the posts of her patio. A kick of nostalgia hits him because grandfather put up a hammock at the back of their home once, when Haechan was around five years old and they were visiting the couple for the summer. Her grandmother used to tell Haechan that the hammock is the best place to take his afternoon naps, hence little Donghyuck would spend most of his afternoons lying on a hammock made of strong nylon.

Shaking off the nostalgia, Haechan clears his throat. “Nana! I’m home!”

“Donghyuckie, is that you?” she calls from somewhere. Haechan walks over to the patio and drops his bags.

Nana comes out from the side of the house, her favorite pink apron on, grey hair hidden by a hair cap. “Oh, sweetheart.”

Haechan sees her age simply by the way she stands. Her back is hunched more than it was the last time he saw her during Chuseok last year. The wrinkles in the edges of her eyes and around her mouth are much more evident. The skin on her neck is loose, and so is the skin on her arms and everywhere.

For a second, Haechan feels like he’s seven again, seeing her for the first time since summer, her eyes not as happy as they were from the last time they’d been in Jeju-do, when grandfather was still alive. Haechan suddenly is taken back to when she’d hug him so, so tightly, crying to his shoulder, telling him harabeoji had left her while she was asleep. He remembers his heart dropping down to the ground when he saw her breaking down, his loving grandmother—who was always bright and happy, whom people would say he got his personality from—at her lowest. It’s the same wave of sadness Haechan feels looking at her now—looking at the years painted in her skin. Her memories blurring out the color of her eyes. Decades of hard work and labor tainted on the callouses on her fingers. Glints of loneliness spread throughout the wrinkles on her face.

Haechan has been all over the world for years now. Years of training and sleepless nights perfecting a performance had led him to where he is now. People who speak different languages love him and cheer for him even with countries and continents in between. He’s made millions happy by simply singing songs or saying hi in a fan call. And while he’s done of all of these, what had he done for his grandmother? People have been watching him grow up, who was watching Nana all this time?

Haechan chokes on his own tears. His grandmother, his Nana, opens her arms like Haechan is not the person the world hates right now. She hugs him like Haechan is not the person who had potentially ruined the group his best friend Mark had worked hard on. She holds him in her arms like Haechan is not the person who scared his siblings and cursed his own father. Nana takes him inside her home like he’s her Donghyuck again.

Haechan feels like he’s her Donghyuckie again.

Contrary to popular belief, Donghyuck doesn’t like affection as much as Haechan does.

He believes that being offered tenderness is the very proof that you’ve been ruined, and Haechan likes to think that with the life he has now, he’s not really in the position to talk about his life’s struggles. Because there are more people in the world who deserves to talk about their pain. Donghyuck doesn’t deserve as much.

Hence, the nostalgia goes away as quickly as it arrives. Haechan spends the rest of the day trying to sleep in his grandmother’s spare room and doesn’t even bother answering when his grandmother knocked on his door to invite him for lunch despite him being wide awake.

Haechan gets up at five in the afternoon, just when the sun is about to set, eyes heavy. The sky looks a lot like the color of his own skin, he notices, and he thinks about how beautiful the sky would be in Han River and recalls how him and Mark (and sometimes Doyoung) would lie on the ground, letting their skin soak in the sun slowly sinking down to its rest.

But none of that is close to happening because he’s here. In Jeju-do. Stuck like some twelve-year old sent to camp for an entire summer because his parents can’t stand him.

Haechan’s train of (bitter) thoughts is interrupted with a loud plonk from the wooden patio, which is right outside his window. He pulls his curtains slightly to peek, and he finds you on the floor on your side, groaning like a kid and massaging your back. It looks like you’d just fallen out of the hammock.

Curious, Haechan gets up and quickly slips out of his room to see you on their front porch.

“And Nana says it’s the most comfortable place to sleep on,” he hears you mumble as you get up, eyes meeting his as soon as you see him. Your eyes widen in shock, probably recognizing him, but you quickly catch yourself and look down.

“You are?” Haechan asks, towering over you.

You clear your throat. “Y/N.”

“I don’t mean your name, pumpkin,” he replies. “What do you do here?”

Haechan smirks at the way one of your eyebrows raised, clearly already infuriated at his attitude. You’re wearing a white shirt that’s too big for you underneath your denim overalls. The pair of boots sitting under the hammock is a clear sign that you’re a farmer tending to the tangerine trees on the land right beside the house, separated by a fence and his grandmother’s home garden.

“I manage your grandmother’s land,” you answer, stance defensive. “And it looks like you’re the delinquent grandson they sent away for the summer?”

Haechan chuckles, liking how you’re bark and bite, wondering how far he can push you, because the last thing he really wants is someone staying at his grandmother’s house. Too close. Too easy to see everything. You’d make millions selling him to the tabloids. He’d honestly rather hear people saying how much of an asshole he is, than have people invading his grandmother’s privacy while he’s here.

“You mean the world star, right?” he brags, licking his upper lip. “And you manage the land we own? Sounds a lot like a farmer to me.”

You stifle a laugh. You’re not at all intimidated. “Oh, pumpkin, I think the last thing you’d want to do in Jeju-do is insult a farmer for their job. The agricultural structure of Jeju Island has done more than you thrusting your hips up on the air for young, easily-manipulated teenage girls, Donghyuck.”

“So, you know my name?”

You click your tongue and turn around, proceeding to slip your boots back on. “How could I not know?”

“Because I’m a world star, right. How could you not know?”

Haechan watches you tie the laces up of your boots. You don’t give him another glance and leave, stomping your feet down the stairs to the ground until you’re out of his sight.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Nana says from inside. The door is wide open. “Where’s Y/N?”

She walks towards where Haechan stands, looking around for you. “That girl. I told her to stay for dinner. What’d you do, Donghyuck-ah?”

“Nothing,” he mumbles, annoyed at how Nana is more concerned about you leaving than ensuring his privacy. He’s a star, for god’s sake. “Why’d you let her sleep here, anyway? And have her stay for dinner? Aren’t you scared she might sell me off to some magazine for, I don’t know, one million won?”

“Why would Y/N sell you—“ his grandmother sighs. “Not everyone is out to get you, Donghyuck-ah.”

“Why does she even know my birth name?” he questions. “That’s like, too much, Nana. Don’t share things like that.”

His grandmother slaps his arm. “Ow! What’d you do that for?”

“You’re a moron!” she screeches. “That was Y/N! She waited for you to wake up all day!”

“That’s creepy!”

“Y/C/N,” Nana enunciates. Haechan remembers. “Her childhood nickname. Does it ring a bell?”

“Y/N—” he breathes out. Frozen. “—is Y/C/N?”

Haechan has always had an affinity with flowers, long before he named his fans sunflowers.

His grandparents had a larger flower garden as compared to how it is now. They’d planted tangerine trees in place of the fields of beautiful red azalea and rhododendron blossoms. On spring days, the cherry blossoms were infinite, and little Donghyuck used to spend a lot of time looking at the flowers and making necklaces out of them.

You used to (still do, perhaps) live down the street, and your parents used to help out in the farm when your grandparents needed another pair of hands to harvest the tangerines. Little Donghyuck met you when he was six.

If he recalls it right, it was the second day of summer, a hundred something days before they had to return back to Seoul. He found you lying under a cherry blossom tree, eyes closed, allowing hundreds of pink petals to drown you in their beauty. Little Donghyuck lied down beside you, upside-down but his head is right beside yours. He’s always been a curious kid, so he wanted to know why you were letting the pink petals rain on you. There was nothing special about it. Just petals falling when the wind blows a certain direction.

When he opened his eyes, you turn to look at him, your eyebrows were furrowed the way they were when Haechan found you on the floor of his patio earlier, right after you’d fallen from the hammock.

“Hey,” you had said. “You’re the kid from Nana’s house, right?”

“She’s my Nana,” he corrected, closing his eyes once again. “And yes, I’m the kid from Nana’s house. You are?”

“My mom calls me Y/C/N,” you answered. “Are you staying for the summer?”

He nodded. “Only for the summer. We’re leaving before school starts.”

“Do you like flowers?” you asked.

“We don’t have a lot of flowers in Seoul,” Little Donghyuck mumbled. “But I love flowers. Last summer, Nana took me to Camellia Hills to see the flowers bloom in May.”

“Then you should stay,” you trailed off. “If you love flowers and Seoul doesn’t offer much, then you should stay.”

“What about school?” Donghyuck had asked, opening his eyes to look at you. You’re looking at him, upside-down and all. Donghyuck’s never seen someone more beautiful. “You’re pretty.”

Your eyes widened. You immediately hide your face from him using your hands. “We’re only five. I can’t have a boyfriend at five years old.”

“Maybe when we’re older.”

Haechan doesn’t remember much from the day you met, but he got close to you during that summer in 2006, even more when his family moved back to Jeju-do in 2007. Your friendship blossomed from walking together in first grade throughout primary school until he’d graduated and eventually moved back to Seoul.

He can’t believe that he’d forgotten your name, and a part of him knows it’s because he’s always called you by your childhood nickname, but a larger part of him likes to think that it’s because he’s almost twenty-three now—it’s been almost ten years. He’s met probably thousands of people at this point, and with the lifestyle he has, he really can’t afford to remember each person he spends time with. Not even the girl he spent his entire childhood in Jeju-do with.

So, Haechan forgives himself before he could ask for yours. He reckons you’d understand. You know him, somehow. You kept in touch until Haechan got into SM in 2013 and high school and training got the best of him. He changed his number and lost contact with almost everyone in Jeju-do, even his closest friends, and you were one them.

Life as a singer means Haechan had to sacrifice a lot of things.

Most people know an idol sacrifices having a normal life—playing in the streets, trying out to be a part of the basketball team, dating at fifteen years old, prom, staying at one classmate’s house for a group project—and it includes forgetting the people you used to be close with.

One of the rules in SM when he was a trainee was to not get in touch with the people from their past. One of their managers used to tell them that their lives are divided into two parts: before training and after training; and to be successful in the industry means to forget who you were before training. They’d deleted all of his social media, which means he disconnected from the people he knew before he was Haechan. They’d deleted who he was before Haechan.

Many sacrifices, indeed. The list goes on, and at the end of it was your name.

“She never left Jeju-do?” Haechan asks, curious, as he ate the dinner Nana made for him. “Like not even for college?”

“She didn’t go to college at all,” Nana answers. “And she likes it here. Why do you make staying in Jeju-do sound like a living hell?”

Haechan shrugs. “It’s not like that, Nana. I mean, God knows what I’d do to get a normal life and go to college in Seoul and do what normal people in their early twenties do.”

Nana smiles at him. “This is probably what normal is for her. Not everyone has big dreams like you.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Haechan asks. “Dreams are free. It doesn’t cost anything to dream. Why wouldn’t people want to have big dreams?”

“Aren’t you the lucky one to have a dream and to be able to live your dream?” Nana says. She finishes up her meal and watches Haechan eat. “How are you, Donghyuck-ah?”

Haechan stops chewing and braces himself. Nobody’s asked him how he is. He continues chewing like it’s not a question that’s been weighing him under.

“I’m okay,” he answers, mouth full of food. “They didn’t fire me. So, I guess I should be grateful. I’m okay.”

“You know that you don’t have to lie to Nana, right?” She asks, smile kind and warm.

And Haechan wants to say it all. Out loud. Maybe even cry.

But he is not about to let his grandmother carry his burdens with her. Burdens that shouldn’t even matter because he’s so lucky to have the life he has now. Burdens that are nothing compared to other people’s.

“Come on, Donghyuck-ah,” she urges. “Talk to Nana. Tell me what’s wrong, my dear.”

“Halmeoni,” he firmly says. “I said I’m okay. I’m tired. Thank you for the meal.” He bows and stands to leave.

Life has a singer means Haechan had to sacrifice a lot, indeed.

Nana leaves a box of things Haechan would need while he’s in Jeju-do before her trusted chauffeur takes her to the town’s market for some business.

Haechan finds himself wearing the same fit as you the day before: a pair of overalls, an old, non-branded shirt that looks like it’s been worn and washed 300 times. Nana left a list of chores to do, and there’s no way Haechan is doing all of those. He’s taking a walk around the fields, supervise like how the owner’s grandson should, bask on the sunlight for a bit, then go back to his room and play some games with strangers online.

You’re waiting by the patio, sitting and looking at the opposite direction so he only sees your back, when Haechan comes out, dressed up for the role but not ready for whatever today brings him.

“Took you long enough,” you grumble as he steps out of the house. You stand and turn to look at him. “Lock the door and let’s get going. You’re late on your first day.”

“Chill out, sweet cheeks,” he scoffs, reaching behind the door and locking it before slamming it shut. “You’re not the boss of me.”

You nod, chuckling. “I’m not. But your grandmother is. And she added your list to the name of workers joining us to harvest today. You will be paid by the hour.”

Haechan gasps lightly in disbelief. “I don’t need to work. We own this place.”

“Hmm,” you hum, feigning curiosity as you tap your index finger to your chin as if you’re thinking hard. “You know I manage this whole place, right? Which means I also manage its taxes and permits annually. I’ve never seen your name in any of the papers I play with every day.”

“Same fucking thing,” he mumbles, walking past you to reach the gate. Haechan finds two horses waiting for him outside. He turns, ready to ask you what kind of joke you’re pulling on him, but he finds you going around the house, perhaps to make sure everything’s locked and all. You catch up on him, eyebrows raised when he points to the horses.

“Don’t tell me you can’t ride a horse,” you ask, seemingly in disbelief that someone like him isn’t capable of riding a horse. “You can’t work in the fields just walking. You’ll tire yourself out and will waste most of your working hours just walking.”

“I—I’m really not—” Haechan falters for a second, but comes back as quickly as he goes. “It’s been years since the last time I rode a horse. I’m not certain if I can do that now.” You give him a questioning look. “Besides. I’m a celebrity if you haven’t noticed it already. What if I break a bone?”

“You’ll live.”

“What if I fall and break my face?”

“Seoul has the best plastic surgeons.”

“My legs! They were injured before. I can’t afford to get another injury!”

“You’ll be fine. You’re such a drama queen.”

“I’m a star!”

At that, you burst out into a fit of laughter, the kind that Haechan would normally join in, because what he just said is truly ridiculous. He can’t believe he said that himself. But, of course, he can’t just laugh with, basically, a stranger.

“Oh my God, Lee Donghyuck,” you say in between laughter.

Something ignites something in him, the way you just said his name.

Haechan is a name he loves, an alter-ego he adores, a character he lives. Full sun, because that’s what he wants to be. He wants to bring light to everyone looking up to him, and he wants to be remembered by the way his voice warms the entire planet. He loves hearing cheers and applause when he introduces himself as Haechan. Because Haechan is talented. Haechan is an ace, an all-rounder who can do anything an idol is expected to do, perhaps even more. Haechan is bright and positive, and he likes making people laugh and at the same time uncomfortable of the influx of skinship he offers. Haechan loves the lights and cameras on stage, and he adores the way his name is in every city he goes to.

Meanwhile, Lee Donghyuck, he’s heard in a million times. Mark still calls him Donghyuck like they never aged since 2013, even Doyoung and Jeno. His parents seldom call him Haechan, never for Nana. His fans also have been calling him Donghyuck since they learned his birth name is Donghyuck, sometimes Hyuck or Hyuckie, which he finds really endearing.

Yet no one’s ever called him his name like he’s nothing but just Lee Donghyuck. Not for a long time. Not from someone before Haechan.

Donghyuck suddenly feels like he’s twelve again, the year he left Jeju-do and had to say goodbye to all of his friends with a promise to keep in touch and to never forget. Donghyuck finds himself looking at the way you’re laughing, how you have your eyes closed, mouth agape and melodies of your amusement coming out like a song he thought he’d forgotten but know all the words to, and he finds himself thinking, maybe being Lee Donghyuck isn’t so bad.

His first day at the farm didn’t go as quick as expected and if Donghyuck could say so himself, it’s the longest fucking day in his entire life.

Evidently, he couldn’t ride a horse to save his life. He doesn’t even know why he’d told you it’s been a long time when the only time he ever rode a horse was when he was eleven for a field trip and only to take a god damn picture to make his mother smile. You and him were only a couple of horse steps or whatever away from Nana’s home and his horse was already squirming and more like threatening to throw him ten meters away, hence, you begrudgingly offered to have him ride with you. Donghyuck didn’t decline, of course, because it was either walk around the place under the hot sun or die at the hands of a stupid horse. You had let him sit behind you, skillfully and impressively holding the other horse by its rope, Donghyuck’s arms reluctantly wrapped around your waist because he didn’t want to fall, and if you were uncomfortable, you didn’t say anything about it.

You had taken him to a tour within his grandparents’ land, and Donghyuck is already twenty-three when he realized his grandparents are big time, like for real. The land isn’t as big as the others, ones that are owned by a big corporation, people who aren’t even from Jeju-do but like to play agricultural monopoly, but it’s bigger than most. Nana was too humbled when she’d told him the night before that he would need to help out in their “small” business.

The business is nowhere near small, with hundreds of tangerine trees scattered around, blooming in the famous Jeju-do delicacy, and she had forty to fifty employees working for her.

“Not really like full-time employees,” you had explained when Donghyuck verbalized his surprise with the number of people working for the farm. “Normally, it’s just me and Nana and a few other people who handle the delivery, quality assurance, and sales in the farmer’s market, which I’d need to take you to tomorrow, and also some folks from Seoul who handle the cargo shipping to the cities. But when it’s harvest season, we really would need more than ten pairs of hands to help out.”

“So, like, all year, there’s only around ten people are here,” Donghyuck confirmed, hands still on your waist as the horse came to a stop. “And on harvest season, Nana hires more people to help out. That’s really nice. Could be a good summer job for students and all.”

You hummed in agreement, patting the horse that Donghyuck learned you named as Daisy. “But normally, you’d find older people working here instead of the younger ones.”

“Oh?” Donghyuck’s curious. “That’s a little odd. I mean, isn’t the job physically tiring?”

You shrugged. “The elderly, well, they don’t really have a lot of opportunities to work here, you know, considering that Jeju-do has become more of like a tourist island than a self-sufficient, thriving agricultural place. You’ve probably heard of the water park they’d built nearby the airport and other big corporations taking over and building their stores here and there. And of course, they’d most likely hire younger people who can relate to the Korean Wave your group caused, right?”

“Keeping tabs?”

You scoffed at that. “As if! Now, get down before I ask Daisy to wiggle her ass and throw you off.”

After the supposed short tour that took an hour because, well, their land is enormous, you take him where some of the elderly people are harvesting.

“This is Donghyuck,” you’d introduced. “Nana’s grandson from Seoul. He’ll be helping us today. So, halmeoni, don’t even think about getting him off the hook because he’s Nana’s grandson. He will be paid for the day like everyone else. You wouldn’t want someone to get paid the same, only to work half of what you do, right?”

The older women laughed at the way you’d introduced him, and he feels his heart swell with the way you’re laughing with them and how they looked at him with so much tenderness. And normally, Donghyuck doesn’t like the look of tenderness, especially when directed to him, but today, it felt warm. Warmth like never before.

“You grew up so handsome, Donghyuck-ah,” one of the women said. “But I thought you’d be taller, you know. You had such long limbs when you were younger.”

Donghyuck feigned offense, clutching his chest. “Ahjumma, you should’ve stopped at the word handsome.”

“Tangerines ripen earlier than other citruses, so they can escape damage from freezes that will harm midseason varieties such as grapefruit and sweet oranges. Most varieties will be ready for picking during the winter and early spring, although the exact tangerine harvest time depends on the cultivar and region,” you explain, following the lead while Donghyuck and two other guys around yours and his age trail behind you. He apparently needs some training before he can start working.

“How do we know if they’re ready to be picked?” Joohyuk, one of the part-timers, ask.

You will know it’s about harvest time for tangerines when the fruit is a good shade of orange and begins to soften a bit. This is your chance to do a taste test,” you answer, stopping to show an abundant tangerine tree. You pick one out and show it to Donghyuck and the rest. “Cut the fruit from the tree at the stem with hand pruners. If after your taste test the fruit has reached its ideal juicy sweetness, proceed to snip other fruit from the tree with the hand pruners.”

You proceed to show them how it’s cut and hand them a piece each. Donghyuck likes that the fruit is sweet, not sour.

The ahjummas find your group and start handing baskets to Donghyuck and the guys, telling them they’d guide them all throughout.

He found himself spending the rest of the morning getting to know the people harvesting tangerines and making them laugh like it’s his job. He learned all their names one by one, their families briefly, and what they used to do before they retired. By the time it’s lunch, Donghyuck was about to say goodbye and perhaps ask you to take him back to his house, the group from the other side of the farm joined their area, all packed with bags of lunch.

They asked him to join, of course, but Donghyuck refused, in respect of their time to relax and take a break, and asked if you could take him home instead. You agreed, of course, mumbling that you would also need to go home to feed your dog.

“I’ll pick you up at 1:15,” you say as soon as Donghyuck lands on his feet. “Don’t sleep, please. The ahjummas will be expecting you. It’ll be a lot hotter, so drench your celebrity skin with twice the amount of sunscreen you’d normally use.”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck responds, itching to say thank you, but not enough to actually say it. He rubs Daisy’s neck instead. “You—I, okay.”

“O-kay,” you nod and whistle to signal Daisy to turn and walk the other way.

Nana waits for him by the patio. “How was your first day?”

“It’s not even over yet,” he sighs, slumping his butt on one of the patio’s stairs. “Nana, I can’t believe you’re making me work while I’m on vacation.”

“Your father never said anything about a vacation,” she responds, smiling as she struggles to sit beside him. Donghyuck helps her. “You’re here for some time away from work, right?”

“Yeah, a vacation,” he emphasizes.

Nana reaches to move the fringe covering a part of his eyes. “Let’s call this your healing time. But I wouldn’t call it a vacation because a vacation for you only means playing computer games until the sun rises then sleeping all day.”

“You should stop talking to Seungyeon about me,” he mumbles, looking sideways to find his grandmother looking at him lovingly. “And I don’t only play computer games. I also listen to a lot of music.”

“Try not to think about the limelight while you’re here,” she says. “The farm needs some help now. And it’s the best time for you to learn about the family business in case you don’t make it back in Seoul.” Donghyuck groans, burying his face in his hands, and Nana laughs at him. “That’s a possibility you should be considering, Donghyuck-ah.”

“Nana, you’re making me feel worse,” he whines. “You just told me not to think about the limelight, how can I not when you just said what you said!”

“I’m only joking,” she admits. “No one is ever going to take the limelight away from you, Donghyuck-ah, even if they try. You were born for the stage, and I know it’s everything you’ve ever wanted.”

Donghyuck looks up at her. “Is it bad that it’s all I want?”

Nana shakes her head and offers a kind smile. “Having a dream like yours is never bad, Donghyuck-ah. I know that eventually you’d have to leave and go back to where you really belong: the limelight. But all I’m saying is, stepping out of the light isn’t as bad as you think it is.”

“Right.”

“Tell me how it was in the farm.”

“The ladies love me,” he chuckles. “I’m quite popular even in the small villages of Jeju-do, aren’t I?”

“You sure are,” she agrees. “They’ve been asking about you for a long time. Looks like your Nana isn’t the only one who missed you.”

“How come they still remember me?” he asks before he can think about it. “I mean, I’m sorry, but I’ve forgotten about most people here. They still remember how I used to play around and sing for small events.”

It’s true. It caught him by surprise that the workers still remembered him—and not only because he’s a celebrity now, but they remember him by the small, insignificant happenstances when he was younger. Like for example, one of them mentioned how he was once was injured, his pinky finger to be exact, because he was running like a madman when his mother had given him permission to go play computer games with his cousin. He doesn’t remember that person being there, but he knows his grandmother talked about it like it was a news about a hurricane hitting Seoul at that time it happened.

It makes Donghyuck wonder how many people remember him, and how many people he’d forgotten and left behind for his dreams.

“Our world here in Jeju-do is small,” Nana explains. “People like you, who left, well, while ours remain humble and small, while we fade into the background and slowly become insignificant, yours become bigger. So, while we remember, you forget, slowly, one by one—and nobody blames you for forgetting, Donghyuck-ah.”

Oh, look. Another burden, another truth that Donghyuck has to carry for the rest of his life. Another reason not to fall asleep tonight.

There is a small, local store located down the road from his grandmother’s house. They don’t sell nearly half the number the ones local convenience stores in Seoul would, but Donghyuck likes to think it’ll do. Soju and beer taste the same anyway, regardless of where he buys it.

With the faint, beaten yellow paint from its exterior, the store has been around even before Donghyuck was born. It’s the village’s very own convenience store, after all. There weren’t any rival stores like how it would look like in Seoul where every corner of every street one would find a convenience store. From where Donghyuck stands, the store doesn’t like look like it’s changed much in a decade.

For some reason, Donghyuck remembers how much Renjun likes reading neuroscience studies for fun. He doesn’t know anyone else who would read neuroscience studies. For fun. But anyway, back to his point, there was a neuroscience study that Renjun has been blabbing about during their US tour. It was something about when someone recalls an old memory, a representation of the entire event is instantaneously reactivated in the brain that often includes the people, location, smells, music, and other trivia. Recalling old memories can have a cinematic quality. Memories often seem to play out in the mind's eye like an old Super 8 home movie or vintage Technicolor film. Neuroscientists discovered that when someone tries to remember a singular aspect of an event from his or her past—such as a recent birthday party—that a complete representation of the entire scene is reactivated in the brain like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle coming together to create a vivid recollection. The new research reveals that humans remember life events using individual threads, that are coupled together into a tapestry of associations.

Donghyuck’s never really understood what Renjun meant at that time, except now.

He stands there, a good ten-meter distance from where you’re sitting. The pavement on the sidewalk isn’t the most comfortable place to sit in, but Donghyuck thinks it might just be, with how comfortable and at peace you look: legs stretched out to the street, headphones covering your ears, a book (or a journal perhaps, Donghyuck can’t see well from here) in one of your hands while the other is twirling a pen.

The scene takes him back to ten years ago, in the exact same place where you’re sitting, and if Donghyuck thinks about it now, it seems like nothing’s really change—except he’s almost twenty-three now, and despite him standing a few meters away from you, it feels like you and him are worlds away. And from what it looks like, you still love writing as much as Donghyuck loves singing.

It was a warm evening in May 2013, a couple of weeks before school ended and summer would officially start, counting down the nights when Donghyuck would have to move back to Seoul, and it was way too hot for Donghyuck’s liking. Nana didn’t have an air-conditioning system yet; his father was working hard to get her one before they leave for Seoul because summers can be crazy hot in Jeju-do. And Donghyuck needed a popsicle so bad, otherwise, he’d probably explode.

He found you the same place where you are now. Donghyuck thought your SHINEE shirt looked cute because while girls your age liked the newly debuted EXO, you still listened to SHINEE like a religion. You were sitting with your legs sprawled on the street, right under the streetlight, a pen in one hand and your old, beaten up journal on the other. Your eyebrows were furrowed, and Donghyuck caught himself before he could start thinking about how pretty you looked like that: focused and doing what you loved.

Donghyuck decided not to disrupt your focus and opted to go straight inside the small store, spending the last of his money on yours and his favorite: lime and cherry twin popsicle—the kind that’s packaged in one, two flavors in one, lime green and cherry red colors separated in the middle between popsicle sticks. Lime for you, cherry for him. You didn’t look up when he sat beside you, but took the lime-flavored popsicle from his hand when he handed it to you after peeling off the plastic cover and breaking it into two.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking the ice-cold treat in your mouth. Donghyuck couldn’t help but think his cherry-flavored popsicle resembled the color of your lips.

Donghyuck nodded his thoughts away, leaning in to peak at the page you’re working on. “What are you working on?” he asked it while the popsicle rested on one side of his mouth, his left cheek protruding.

You shrugged, taking the popsicle off your mouth, showing your work to him. Donghyuck found it endearing that you write all over the pages of your journals, it was as though he could see your train of thoughts: some smudged, some erased under ink but not really because he could still read through it, some clear as day, some to never see daylight again.

“I was in Science class today,” you started.

“We’re in the same homeroom, dumbass. I was there.”

“I’m talking,” you whined. “And I doubt you were even listening. You hate Science more than anything.”

“Fair point,” he hummed. “Okay, what about Science class? Please don’t tell me you’ll start writing about Science. Because I’m so sorry. I’ll never read any of your work ever again if you decide to do that.”

You laughed, the melody of your fondness of his jokes creating its own room inside the crevices of Donghyuck’s brain. “Teacher Kim was talking about symbiosis.”

“I’m not even going to pretend I know what that means.”

“Symbiosis is a term describing any relationship or interaction between two dissimilar organisms. The specific kind of symbiosis depends on whether either or both organisms benefit from the relationship,” you continued. “Butterflies and flowers, they are the best examples of symbiosis.”

Donghyuck nodded, savoring the sweetness of his cherry-flavored treat.

“Hence I did some research and read more about butterflies and flowers, and I read something a little sad,” you trailed off. “I learned that certain flowers bloom when butterflies hatch and depends on how they match each other. Butterflies, they prefer light-colored flowers they can perch on. So, when the timing is off, the flower misses the butterfly. The butterfly, therefore, finds another flower.”

“Then what happens to the flower?” Donghyuck asked, watching as you try to catch the melting piece off your popsicle, taking it back to your mouth. Your lips looked really pretty. “If it misses all the timing?”

“Well,” you shrugged, looking up to the night sky. The stars in Jeju-do that night were much prettier than it is in Seoul. “They bloom again next year, and hope that maybe next time, the timing is better. That the butterfly arrives just in time for the flowers to bloom.

“That is a little sad,” Donghyuck acknowledged. He watched you look back down, grimacing a little as you take the popsicle off your mouth. “Wanna try mine?” he asked before he could think about it.

You looked back at him. The stars in Jeju-do turned out to be nothing compared to your eyes. “Yeah?”

Donghyuck pulled the sweet treat from his mouth just as you hand him your lime-flavored one. He took it in his mouth, and Donghyuck had never been the biggest fan of anything sour, but for some reason, the lime flavor tasted sweeter than ever. You took his cherry-flavored ones, groaning in delight as you taste the treat’s sweetness.

“Cherry has always been my favorite,” you’d confessed, and Donghyuck was surprised because you’d always gotten the lime-flavored ones. The twin pops were your thing since you met summer of 2006—it was cheap, practical for two kids, two-in-one; you’d always choose the lime ones. “God, this is good.”

“You literally always take the lime ones,” he argued. “My whole life has been a lie. I’ve always thought lime was your favorite because you always take it whenever we get this!”

You shrugged. “You never liked anything sour,” you said like it’s the easiest thing to say, like it didn’t make Donghyuck’s heart somersault. “And I can take a little bit of sourness if it means you enjoy your cherry-flavored popsicle.”

Donghyuck was only twelve. He didn’t know anything about falling in love, but that night might just be the closest thing.

“So, you drink alcohol to help you fall asleep?” you ask as if it’s the most interesting solution to insomnia. Donghyuck thinks it isn’t; he’s read somewhere online that alcohol really helps. “That’s stupid.”

Donghyuck shrugs. “It’s not really working great right now. But it helps.”

He sits beside you on the sidewalk, legs sprawled out just like yours, a can of cold beer one hand while the other holds him up, flat on the rough pavement. There’s no particular reason why Donghyuck’s talking to you now. You and him got off the wrong foot, and it’s not like you can really blame Donghyuck for seeing a (supposed) stranger sleeping at his grandmother’s patio. And you were friends. Even though it’s been years, Donghyuck reckons talking to you would do no harm. Besides, if he’s staying here for a few months, a companion would probably make it less miserable.

“And your father thinks coming to Jeju-do would help, too?” you ask.

Donghyuck chuckles. “I guess you could say that. What else have you heard about me?”

You look at him, away from the street and right into his eyes. Donghyuck wonders why he didn’t recognize you the first time he saw you. Your face looks the same from the day he bid you goodbye a decade ago—lips colored in cherry, eyes bright as the stars, cheeks soft all over.

“A lot,” you answer. “But I’ve never been one to believe in rumors anyway.”

Donghyuck licks his lips. “The rumors are true.”

“Not about the sleeping around and getting drunk, pabo,” you mutter. “That, I believe.”

“Which ones?” he asks.

“People are saying you no longer like being on stage,” you say. It’s not the first time Donghyuck’s heard it. “That you’ve been burnt out from working all these years. And that you don’t care about music anymore.”

Donghyuck snickers. “That’s true, too.” He throws his head back, chugging on the cold beer. “I’m so over it. I don’t even care what happens after this.”

“Oh, Donghyuckie,” you whisper softly, eyes still glued to his face. “What has the limelight done to you?”

Donghyuck only shrugs, finishing off the rest of the cold beer, helping himself up and taking the plastic bag full of iced cold beer from the store.

“I don’t think that’s something you should be worried about,” Donghyuck says. You keep your eyes on him, so you’re looking up from where you’re seated and Donghyuck looks down on you. “It’s getting late. Wanna go drink at Nana’s?”

“Nana would kill you if she finds alcohol inside her house,” you say.

“I’ve snuck in about twenty bottles since I arrived last week and she hasn’t noticed,” he confesses.

“You’re a fucking nightmare,” you laugh.

Donghyuck freezes for a moment, watching you stand in between giggles. Mark said the same think a couple of weeks ago, but it doesn’t sting when you say it. You say it in laughter. Like it’s okay. Like it doesn’t scare you.

“My house is down the street,” you say, helping yourself up and standing in front of him. Donghyuck remembers. “I’ll call Nana and let her know you’re with me.”

A bark startles Donghyuck for a second. You and him turn to find a golden Labrador running towards where you stand.

“Aw, my baby’s here to pick me up,” you announce with the softest voice. The lab runs, almost dashes towards you, and Donghyuck is taken aback when it tackles him—not you—knocking the plastic bag off his hands and resulting to him landing his butt back to the pavement. “Pororo!” you shriek, not in surprise but with a tone of betrayal. “I’m your mother!”

Donghyuck hears you shriek, but laughs through it because the golden lab is hogging him, licking him all over as if he’d miss him all these years. “Oh, baby, you’re so cute,” he coos, cradling the dog by its face, looking up at you as the dog licks his face. “This is yours?”

You fight back a smile, but you lose immediately because your face breaks with a grin. “What has the limelight done to you?” you ask, the same question from earlier, but a different tone—teasing, nostalgic, like years ago.

The dog sniffs him all over and you stand there watching them.

“Can’t even recognize your own dog now?” you tease, walking so you could pet the dog and have him follow you. “It’s the puppy Nana got you a month before you left Seoul. You couldn’t bring him with you, and Nana couldn’t take care of him when you left, so I adopted him, pabo.”

“Pororo?” Donghyuck finally, finally recognizes. Pororo looks like he’s nodding, like saying thank God, you remembered me! The dog goes back to tackle him. “Oh, Pororo! My baby!”

You lead the way to your house, Pororo following after you. He watches you take several steps ahead of him. He feels dizzy watching the scene in front of him. Donghyuck understands what Renjun is talking about now.

Humans remember a singular aspect of an event from his or her past that a complete representation of the entire scene is reactivated in the brain like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle coming together to create a vivid recollection. You’re the representation of his entire life in Jeju-do, a clear image before Haechan, and he’s fucking sorry he forgot about you all these years.

But that’s an apology you’d never hear from him. Instead, he watches you, taking a small step towards you, and decides he’ll allow his unsaid apology to be added on the long list of reasons why he can’t sleep at night.

Nostalgia comes in waves, they say, but why do you bring it to him like a hurricane?

Donghyuck could say that Nana is impressed with the drastic change of character in the span of six weeks.

She’s been treating him better these days; by “better”, Donghyuck means she’s been cutting off a few hours from work so he could spend more time at her home, guarding the hens and roosters that serve at her alarm clock and watering her plants from her small vegetable garden. She’s also been paying him, giving him a small envelope with cash and a small paper that resembled a payslip showing the number of hours he’d work for the week, and Donghyuck ignores the quick jump from his heart when he sees your signature at the end of it, affirming that the hours listed are accurate. Donghyuck takes the money, of course, after Nana threatened to beat him up because she’d be breaking Korea’s labor laws if he doesn’t accept it, and he keeps it all in a small box in his room, planning to show it to his members when he goes back to Seoul and brag about working like a normal civilian at the age of 23.

There is a pinch in his heart when he remembers his members. While Donghyuck has been working on (and failing to) sober up for an entire month, his members have not called nor texted him. He’d been reaching out, of course. Some of his members have been assigned solo projects and activities in the last month, and he ensures to congratulate them. All he’s gotten so far are the receipts that his messages have been read.

Donghyuck convinces himself that it’s probably SM that advised everyone not to give him a time of their day, that they probably think being away from work means disconnecting from everyone, too, that his members love him and also believe that he needs some time off from everything.

But the convincing can only do much. The convincing distracts him while he’s at work, or while he’s watering Nana’s plants, but it doesn’t do much at night. Still, after six weeks, Donghyuck is nowhere near clean.

He wakes up with a terrible headache every day (from lack of sleep or hangover, he’s not really certain), and his Nana has been oddly making hangover soup for breakfast. Donghyuck wonders whether you’d ratted him out or his mother had called her about it. Either way, she probably knows something’s up.

His mother had called him a few times now, Seungyeon, too, and it’s been casual. His mother’s voice always sounded like she’s walking on eggshells whenever she’d call, blurting a half-assed apology for not seeing him before he left and telling him she’d forgiven him and that she’s looking forward to seeing her in a few months. Seungyeon talks to him the most, almost every day, in short text messages and 10-minute calls on the weekends when she doesn’t have to worry about waking up early the next day. And she talks to him about the most random thing, nothing ever related to his obsession with drinking or the scandal, which makes Donghyuck feel better somehow.

Six weeks didn’t make much of a difference, not that Donghyuck was expecting any. The only thing that’s changed so far is that, he’s not as exhausted as he was in Seoul despite his shitty sleeping schedule continuously fucking up his already deteriorated mental health. He hasn’t been listening to songs for quite a while, and he’s been drinking every night. And if it means anything to him, you’ve been hanging out with him while he drinks.

In six weeks, he learns that you’re not much of a drinker. You don’t have many friends that you could really invite for a drink in a nearby pub or in a samgyeopsal restaurant. You’d mentioned that most people your age have all moved on to different places, spewing names that were once familiar to Donghyuck and telling him where they are now. Donghyuck is yet to learn why you had stayed in Jeju-do, not once stepping in Seoul, when the world off this island’s shores are much, much bigger than you think.

It’s two in the morning. You’d taken him home because he could barely keep his head up with the number of soju bottles he had downed, and he appreciates that you try to stay quiet when you put him to bed and leave, keeping the blinds closed because he’d told you once that the morning sunlight seeping through spaces between the curtains hurt his eyes. You’d left when Donghyuck’s barely awake.

His phone dings a notification. Donghyuck probably won’t remember so he reaches over, checking it and recognizing his mother’s name.

She sends him an article about the upcoming debut of NCT DoJaeJung, and Donghyuck’s seen it in the groupchat for some time now. Donghyuck isn’t even halfway down the article when she sends another one: Mark’s solo song.

She doesn’t add another message, and he sees her status change from online to offline in a split second, but she doesn’t really have to say anything else for him to understand.

Donghyuck’s dream has always been the spotlight.

Or at least, as he recognizes now, his mother’s dream for him has always been the spotlight.

Donghyuck always thought he loved making people happy and singing equally.

While people called him kind and a ray of sunshine, Mark’s always called him out for being a people-pleaser, reminding him that he doesn’t have to make sure everyone is happy with the choices he’d make, telling him he doesn’t have to feel the strong urge to please everyone. And Donghyuck never understood it until now, now that he’s wide awake and looking at his mother’s messages. She’s probably expecting a solo project for him, too, and she sends these things that make her happy, and she’s already expecting him he’d do it no matter what. Donghyuck’s mother is a good person; he’d look up at her and think to himself that when he grows up, he’d want to be as supportive as his mother, and don’t get him wrong when he says she expects him to do anything that’d make her happy. Because this is all Donghyuck’s fault, anyway.

With his desire to make her the happiest, he’s done everything he could to make her happy, even at his own expense.

The infamous Saturday audition at SM was something Donghyuck never thought about—not at the age of 13 when he had just gotten back in Seoul after five years of staying in Jeju-do. His accent has changed and he reckons he could have a good relationship with boys his age who grew up in the city. And as much as he loved performing, Donghyuck doesn’t like being criticized. He doesn’t like rejection, and he can’t bare the thought of adults telling him he couldn’t sing.

Hence, his initial answer to his mother’s proposal to visit SM Entertainment and give it a try was no. The only thing that had made him go, knees shaking and palms sweaty, was his mother’s words: “It’ll truly make me happy if you give it a try.”

She’d said it in many occasions, and Donghyuck’s given everything that’d make her happy a try. She’d never said a bad thing and even told him a few times that it’s okay if he doesn’t want to, but he does it anyway.

Donghyuck was afraid that she’d love him less if he didn’t make her happy. He was only thirteen, and his twenty-three now, and his biggest fear hasn’t changed: to be loved less because he didn’t make them happy enough.

So, Haechan blurts out the most random jokes when the cameras are on and initiates skinship with the member even if they abhor him for it and style his hair a different way, because it makes the fans happy. Haechan stays up learning the tune of the new song and recording himself in his phone for hours even after an entire day of physical activities, because it makes the producers happy. Haechan takes his friends and the younger members to dinner after a 16-hour flight from the west on the night of his birthday—his eyes barely open the entire time—because it makes them happy. Haechan plays the maknae role perfectly, even when at times he’s tired of it, because it makes the older members happy. Haechan continues to be a sunny and bright character even on days when he’s exhausted, because it makes his managers happy.

But the truth is, Donghyuck doesn’t like dyeing his hair. His hair’s gotten so unhealthy from dyeing it different colors last year.

Donghyuck feels awful sometimes, when his friends do not return his affection, but he plays it off, feigning hurt even when it actually does.

Donghyuck wants to sleep after a 16-hour flight.

Donghyuck wants to drink with his hyungs, too.

Donghyuck just wants to sing and write songs when he’s learned enough.

Donghyuck doesn’t want to be like Mark, or Doyoung, or anyone else.

Donghyuck wants Haechan to be… Donghyuck.

Donghyuck wants to be happy—in his own terms, by his own choices.

But how can he be happy when he’s always depended his happiness on the people he loves?

Donghyuck feels like a dead man walking.

You and Donghyuck are tasked to bring the harvested fruits at the farmer’s market in the early hours of Sunday.

It’s barely five in the morning, and the sun’s not even out yet, but you had forced him to sleep early the night before to make sure he’d accompany you to the market. (He didn’t sleep though; he lied awake until his phone rang and you’re calling from outside.) You’d driven the farm’s truck to get here, and Donghyuck can’t help but admire the way you hold the steering wheel with one hand.

Donghyuck helps you carry the boxes out of the truck, arranging them in front of his grandmother’s store. You had walked in while he carries the rest inside and Donghyuck hears you talk to Eunseuk, his Nana’s sales person who handles and manages their place in the public market.

“That’s awful,” Donghyuck hears you say as soon as he places the last of the boxes in a corner. “Can’t the mayor do anything about it?

Eunseuk sighs, shaking her head. “Unfortunately, it looks like the donation project Nana’s driven wasn’t enough. She barely made enough profit last quarter because she’d donated most of it to the project.”

“What is awful and what project are we talking about?” Donghyuck interrupts.

Eunseuk smiles sadly at him. “The clinic that Nana’s been proposing to the mayor for years now. The town’s mayor thinks it’s not going to be built this year.” Donghyuck’s never heard of it.

“The community has a lot of elderly people who live alone in Jeju-do,” you explain when you notice his curiosity. “Especially in here in the island, even more here in our town. Most people leave Jeju-do at the age of eighteen to find a better life in Seoul, which is ridiculous because there’s no place better than Jeju-do, and Nana thought it’d be great if she built a small clinic for the elderly nearby, that way they wouldn’t have to travel fifty kilometers to visit the nearest hospital. It’d be great if the elderly can have themselves checked for free and to have, if not all, most equipment they’d need.”

“How is that possible?” Donghyuck asks.

“Well,” Eunseuk starts. “First, we need the funds to actually build the clinic itself. Nana is halfway through the amount needed. The mayor’s children are doctors, and if he wants to keep winning the next elections, I’m sure he’d be happy to have them volunteer.”

“What about maintenance?” he asks.

“Good question,” you say. “And good thinking. I like it, you’re already thinking ahead, Donghyuck-ah. Anyway, the elderly is very much willing to do community service in exchange of the maintenance of the small clinic. And don’t worry, it’s not like Nana’s going to make them work like horses.”

“Services like crocheting products for the local market,” Eunseuk adds. “Food manufacturing—the kind that would allow them to make while sitting down, local farming, jewelry-making, and the like. Things we can sell in the market. You know how tourists are so keen on buying anything hand-made.”

“So, a clinic for the elderly built and maintained by the elderly?” Donghyuck sums up.

“Exactly!”

“How much are we looking at in terms of money?” He asks.

You chuckle. “If you’re grandmother wanted to ask money from you, she would have already. She has some kind of pride, you know.”

“Well, I’ll give it you and you tell her it’s an anonymous donation.”

“As if she’d believe that bullshit,” you answer. “Anyway, Eunseuk-eonnie, what do we do now?”

The older woman shrugs. “We’ll keep selling tangerines until we reach the goal, I guess.”

Donghyuck talks before he could think about it. “I can do something.”

You and Eunseuk look at him like you’d just seen a ghost.

“I don’t know what I can offer,” he says right away. “But I’ll… I think I can do something.”

“Donghyuck,” you say. “You can sing.”

“I am aware,” he jokes.

“No, you can sing,” you repeat. Donghyuck looks back at you. “You can sing, so I’m sure you can teach people how to sing.”

“And?” He doesn’t get it.

“It’s summer,” you answer. “Most kids are bored and are probably looking for something meaningful to do while they wait for school to start again. Teach kids how to sing and have their parents pay for it!”

Donghyuck thinks it’s a good idea. “And you can write.”

You freeze. “No.”

“Teach kids how to write and have their parents pay for it.”

“Over my dead body!”

“I will do it only if you do it.”

Eunseuk laughs, “Oh, this is good.”

“No, Donghyuck. I’m not a professional writer. I didn’t even go to college. I don’t have the credentials for it.”

“You don’t have to go college to be a writer,” he snorts. “Scott Fitzgerald didn’t even finish college.”

“Where’d you even learn that?”

“You told me when we were kids!” he answers, laughing. “Come on, Y/N. I’m sure Nana can find someone to do your job in the farm while we teach kids.”

“I don’t know, Donghyuck,” you sigh.

Eunseuk lightly slaps your arm. “Come on, young lady. Do it for the elderly.”

“Yeah, Y/N, do it for the elderly.”

The sparkle in your eyes and the smile on your lips tell Donghyuck you agree.

And so, the plan goes accordingly.

Donghyuck could say that Nana is more than delighted to learn that his delinquent and embarrassing grandson, who’s spent all this time pretending he doesn’t care, had decided to help out. You’d done the most part, of course— obtaining the permit from the mayor’s office and settling all the paperwork needed. All Donghyuck had to do was to help clean up and renovate his grandfather’s old office in the farm. Everyone else who had some free time helped because apparently, that’s what this community does. Donghyuck could probably get used to receiving help without him asking for it.

So, in more or less five days, his grandfather’s old office, which is about forty square meters, had turned into the community’s summer class headquarters. You and Donghyuck decided to call it Nana’s Music and Literature Classes. And with the help of Eunseuk and some of the workers, the word spread like news from the radio. In a week’s time, you and Donghyuck have over twenty student each. Mondays and Wednesdays were his schedule; yours were Tuesdays and Thursdays. Fridays were called Hyuckie and Y/C/N’s day—which means you and him would dedicate an entire day brainstorming and talking about your class’ progress.

The summer courses would take eight weeks to complete, and at the end of it would be a competition, in which the Mayor promised he’d give a very big reward for. Those who enrolled in Donghyuck’s classes would have a recital at the end of summer where the kids will hold a small concert for the town—tickets to be sold as part of the drive, of course—and the judges will be identified to select three winners. As for your classes, it will be a short story competition, and the winners will be announced on the night of the small concert, which Donghyuck is the best ending any summer could have.

The place is cramped, and Donghyuck’s never been more excited his entire life.

He’s gone to many places and met with many prominent people in this lifetime. But he’s decided that this is the most exhilarating day of his life.

The parents leave as soon as Donghyuck assures them that the kids will be safe and will be all set for pick up by 3 in the afternoon. You’re talking to the kids while he ensures that the room is cool enough for everybody. The room is filled with excitement that Donghyuck could feel inside him. He learned from the parents he’d met just a few minutes ago that the town doesn’t really offer things like this for children and that they’d have to send their kids to summer camp in the mainland if they wanted them to experience this, and the fact that you and him are doing this for a cause makes it even better.

Donghyuck views this like it’s not as big as the drives NCT had been doing, or the charity concerts he takes part in, or the money he donates to various causes, but to the people of the town, it’s bigger than anything they had ever known.

“Aigoo,” one of the parents cooed when she’d seen Donghyuck greet everybody outside. “Your grandparents have always been kind. They’d been the pillar of this small town for quite some time now. I’m glad you’re growing up a good man.”

You’d smiled at him when you heard that, and Donghyuck wonders if you also think he’s growing up a good man, because he thinks you grew up to be such an amazing, compassionate person.

“Hello, kids!” Donghyuck greets. Everybody says it back with the same enthusiasm, and despite having been in hundreds of shows with thousands of people in the audience, he can’t remember the last time a crowd made him feel alive.

Donghyuck hates being recognized.

When his career had just started, he thought that the greatest compliment was to be recognized. He thought that he’d measure his success with the number of people from the general public who could recognize him under a hat and with a face mask covering half his face. But in the latter years of his career, he’d learned the hard way that he hated being seen and being recognized.

There had been many happenstances in his job in which he’d just wish he was invisible for a moment. Anytime he’s in an airport, regardless it was for an event or concert overseas, or worst of it all, a vacation with his family, all Donghyuck wants is for people not to know who he is. In afternoon runs by himself, all he needs is a time alone and not girls following him and taking pictures of him. On days when he’s out with friends and family, all he hopes is peace. This comes with the job, Johnny would tell him whenever he’d get frisky and annoyed, but Donghyuck never really understood why his privacy is anyone’s business. Never really understood why he had to go through this when all he’s ever really wanted was sing.

Donghyuck hates being seen.

More than anything. Especially when he’s trying hard to hide. And he wishes he’s only talking about his physical appearance being seen. He hates that his grandmother sees through him but doesn’t say anything about it unless he opens up first. He hates that Mark, his best friend in the entire world, sees right through his walls and that all Donghyuck’s done is push him away and make him hate him even more. He hates that his father sees his pain, but doesn’t talk about it for some reason. He hates that you see him—all of him—but you don’t look at him with disgust or pity or anything of that sort.

It’s Friday, yours and his day, the second one since summer school’s started, and he’d started calling you by your childhood nickname again. You’d grimaced the first time and told him nobody’s called you that in a long time, but allowed him nonetheless.

The clock strikes six in the afternoon and the dusk had just settled in the horizon. You and him are sitting on the floor of his room, facing each other, separated by a small table, notepads scattered, ideas running a hundred miles per second.

“This is perfect,” you comment when you and him had finished planning out next week’s daily agenda. “The kids are going to love it!”

Donghyuck stays silent, eyes on you as you finally set your pen down.

“What should we have for dinner?” you ask, eyes still on the notepad. “Nana’s probably heating up some leftover galbi, but I think we should make some kimchi stew, too.”

Donghyuck hums. You look up at him. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. I just had something in mind.”

You tilt your head. “Tell me.”

“It’s a question,” he says. “And if I say it, you’d have to answer.”

You think about it for a moment. Donghyuck almost takes it back. “Sure.”

“Really?”

You nod. “As long as you answer a question from me, too.”

Donghyuck pretends to think about it. “Can we set some rules?”

“It’s literally one question,” you snort. “Come on. Ask me.”

“No, ask me first,” he insists.

“You asked first.”

“No. Ask me first,” he repeats.

You scoff. “Fine. You have to tell me the truth, yeah?” A nod. “Ready?” Another.

Donghyuck holds his breath for a moment and you don’t say anything for about a minute, probably thinking the same as him: this is the only chance both of you are honest and open, might as well ask a question one wouldn’t answer on a normal day.

“How are you?”

He exhales the breath he’s been holding and nearly breaks down in tears when he hears the question you’d decided to ask. He’s sure you’ve heard of it all. Everything’s been all over the internet for the past two months he’d been in hiding in Jeju-do: the drinking, the nights in clubs and bars, the fights with the members, the cherry on top which is the scandal. It’d all spiraled into everything he was initially afraid of. The girl he’d met at the back of the club had sold him to reporters and had made up a story of how they’ve been in a sexual relationship for quite some time. The media had dug up stories of him being out of control in the streets when he’s shitfaced from all the soju he had and had posted tales of him asking multiple women to sleep with him whenever he’s drunk.

The agency sued everyone for making shit up, of course, but Donghyuck knows half of those are the truth. He has not been the best group member in a long time: always late in practices, grumpy and hangover during fan signs, lethargic during concerts, and fucking up performances. He’s lost himself, and he’s losing everyone in the process of it.

People ask him if he’d really had sex with someone at the back of a bar. They’d ask him why he never asked for help with his drinking problem. Comments from his Instagram would tell him to back off and just leave the group. Fans from calls and fan signs would ask him why he’d stop making covers of the songs he loved and why he hasn’t been on Bubble in a long period of time.

But nobody else had really asked him how he’s been aside from Nana, who he doesn’t have the heart to open up to.

“I—” He starts but swallows, breathing in. You wait for him. “I’m—I don’t really—I’m not sure if I can.”

You nod. “Take your time, Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck reminds himself to breathe.

How is he? How has been holding up after everything that’s happened?

He’s lost his spark. He’s lost his love for music, his passion for the stage, the sparkle in his eyes. He’s losing the people he loves. He’s losing his friends. And he’s losing a battle with himself.

He’s—

“I’m, ” he tries again. “Y/N, I’m not okay.”

It pours like rain, his tears. He shakes when he cries and his chest is tight and it’s hard to breathe, but he keeps crying because it’s the only time he ever will. He sobs in pain and holds himself when his entire body shakes from the ache of it all.

He’s grieving, weeping, like how one would in a funeral, because how does he ask for forgiveness? How does he ask forgiveness from his parents and siblings? From his members? From his fans? From the staff and the people who’d brought him to where he is? How does he ask forgiveness from little Donghyuck when all he’d wanted was for him to grow up a good man?

You let him cry, and only reach out to hand him a handkerchief when he’s done. You don’t say anything. Instead you kneel and reach over to hug him from the other side. Donghyuck accepts your tenderness.

“I don’t have anything else to ask,” you murmur against his hair. “But I do want to say that you’re loved in ways you probably have forgotten already. You’ve probably been used to love that’s loud—screaming and flamboyant and beautiful and everything anyone would want—but you’re also loved quietly. In a small, serene room. In a way you’ve forgotten.”

“Thank you,” he says, sniffling, a little embarrassed now. “I’m sorry. I probably ruined the moment.”

You chuckle, pulling away, and Donghyuck’s heart does flips when you kiss the top of his head like you always did when you were younger. He doesn’t know why he remembers all of a sudden.

“Stop apologizing,” you reply. “There’s nothing to apologize about.”

“There’s a lot,” he admits. “I didn’t recognize you the first time I saw you. We did everything when we were kids, and I didn’t recognize you.”

“And it’s okay,” you assure, holding the top of his hand that’s resting on the small table. “I didn’t expect you to recognize me right away. You were worlds away from me. We forget people and that’s okay.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not. I promised to keep in touch, and I never did. I’m sorry.”

You nod. “You’re forgiven.”

Donghyuck sighs in relief. “I doubt, but okay.”

“Trust me.” He does. “Anyway, you were going to ask me something. You’re not allowed to ask the same thing because I’d just answer that I’m tired and I want to sleep. Nothing big happens in my life.”

Donghyuck smiles again. “Ready?” A nod. “Why’d you never leave Jeju-do?”

It seems like you didn’t expect the question because your face tells Donghyuck you’re surprised by what he just asked. You lick your lip and exhale largely, looking everywhere but his eyes. Donghyuck allows you to take your time, and you’re not running away so he’s assuming you’re thinking of an answer for him.

“I don’t have a dream,” is your answer. “My parents think it’s not normal. Because even they had already left the town and moved to a bigger place off the island. People think it’s impossible that I don’t have a dream, that I must want something in life, I just haven’t discovered it yet. And I’m twenty-three, I’m still waiting for my awakening, for dreams to find me, but it hasn’t. I don’t want to do anything in life but just… survive.”

Donghyuck only listens. “In high school, when we were deciding what to take up in college and which college we’d go to, I had nothing in mind. I didn’t want a career—not an engineer, not a teacher, not a doctor, none of those. I couldn’t think of anything. Writing is something that I love doing, but I really can’t see myself pursuing it as a career. I don’t want to end up hating it. I’ve always been convinced that I wasn’t specifically good at anything apart from that. I’m okay with all subjects at school, average grades and all, but nothing ever stood out for me. I never stood out. And I was okay with it for a reason I still don’t know. I was okay with not having dreams. College was the only reason for me to leave Jeju-do. There’s nothing else, therefore I’m still here. At twenty-three, I haven’t accomplished much, and if you want me to be all out and honest,” you sigh. “It’s… it’s starting to scare me.”

“What scares you?”

“That I haven’t accomplished anything yet,” you admit. “I’m not one to, you know, force myself to people and make them remember me. I wasn’t scared of oblivion. Until… these days, I’ve been asking myself, how are people going to remember me?”

Donghyuck nods, urges you to continue.

“Are they going to remember me as someone who helps out in your Nana’s farm because I had nothing to do?” you voice out. “Are they going to remember me as someone who brings all the deliveries to the farmer’s market when the staff is unavailable? Are they going to remember be as Eunseuk’s co-worker? Are they going to remember me at all?”

“Can I tell you something?” he asks but doesn’t wait for you to answer. “I know I’m not in the position to say anything about remembering you when I couldn’t recognize you the first time we met after a decade, but I remember you by the way I see cherry blossoms.”

You tilt your head to the side. ��Is that a good thing?”

“We met in a puddle of fallen cherry blossoms in summer of 2006,” he explains. “I remember you by the way you admired flowers that fall off from its stem, by the way you loved fallen and broken things equally when they were perfect and when they stood still. I may have awfully forgotten you all these years, but the way I see cherry blossoms is the exact same way you see them.”

Donghyuck continues, “You know how they say we’re a manifestation of all the people we met, right? That we’re a mosaic of everything we’ve ever learned from them. To me, I remember you as the clear image of who I was before… before everything that’s happened. I remember you as someone helping me find my way back home.”

“Donghyuck,” you trail off. “That’s the… best thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Donghyuck smiles. “And so, what if you don’t have big dreams? Dreams are just dreams anyway. You don’t have to have one if you don’t want to. You shouldn’t have to struggle so much in order to live.”

“Do people know you’re this kind and profound?” you chuckle. “People should see this side of Lee Donghyuck.”

“Call yourself lucky you’re the only one,” he answers.

“What’s wrong with people seeing this side?”

Donghyuck shrugs. “I don’t think they’d want the boring kind. I think they like me better when I’m funny and over the top and a sucker for attention.”

“Well,” you click your tongue. “I like you either way.”

Donghyuck is barely twenty-three. And if he knows anything about falling in love, this might just be the moment he truly learns it.

You and him end up falling asleep on his bed. Donghyuck likes to think he doesn’t really remember how it happened. You’d told him you’d sleep in the hammock at his house’s patio, but he’d insisted to sleep in his room, of course. Reason? Mosquitoes, of course. Donghyuck said he’d sleep on the floor, taking an extra pillow, but you were already half asleep, moving so your body is right by the wall, safe and sound. You’d save the extra space for him to sleep beside you. Donghyuck likes to think he’d fallen asleep because he was exhausted and not because he felt safe around you.

It’s the longest sleep he’s had in a long time.

He wakes up at eight in the morning, the room already warm despite the air-conditioning system still switched on. You are no longer beside him, but he clearly hears your voice from outside.

Donghyuck gets up, going straight outside and finds everyone from the farm gathered around for breakfast outside his grandmother’s house. He’d forgotten that his Nana invited everybody for a scrumptious breakfast today, Saturday, and he wonders why neither you nor Nana herself had woken him up to help out.

Farmers and harvesters pass a plate to one another. A long table is set up in the middle of Nana’s driveway space, various of dishes laid out, and Donghyuck finds you holding two pitchers of tangerine juice, walking around to fill up the workers’ cups.

It’s Eunseuk who sees Donghyuck standing by the patio watching everybody move around.

“There’s our Donghyuckie!” she announces.

Everyone looks at him and greets him a good morning. Nana shouts his name and asks him to come over and eat some breakfast. You squint when you look at him, the sun blinding your eyes, but you smile as soon as he waves hi.

Donghyuck can’t help but think being recognized is not so bad after all.

Donghyuck spends the rest of summer like a kid.

Except he goes to work at Nana’s Music and Literature Classes on Mondays and Wednesdays, goes to the farm on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and spends his Fridays with you. He learns many things over the summer, especially about the community and the town itself. He meets more people as Donghyuck, Nana’s grandson who teaches children how to sing and who helps out in the farm two days a week. They accept him as he is, and he feels like seven again, meeting new people every day until they all remember him by his name.

Among the things he’s learned, he likes learning how your lips taste the most.

It was sudden, unplanned, the kind where he didn’t know he was doing it until he’s done it. You and him were ending a Friday session at your place that time, the place where he used to hide his drinks, and he was so elated that he wasn’t going home drunk for the first time since he arrived in Jeju-do. And he was bidding you goodbye. He’d leaned it like it was the most natural thing to do and caught your lips in his. You shrieked in surprise, unable to say anything, but tipped on your toes and gave him a second kiss before turning and running inside your house.

You didn’t talk about it, and Donghyuck felt like it was not something to talk about. You had voiced out you liked him in many occasions, and Donghyuck’s been relentlessly flirting with you since the night you fell asleep in his room. The signs were never mixed and the lines were never blurred. Donghyuck’s grown much closer to you more than anyone else in the world, and he’s been falling asleep in the safety of your arms these days. It was safe to say the kisses weren’t meaningless.

The night of his class’ recital comes quickly.

Donghyuck spend the entire two days practicing with each of his students while you were busy reading all of your students’ works and giving them feedback before they submit it to the Mayor’s office. You find him getting ready in his room, dressed in the only button-down shirt he brought from Seoul and a pair of slacks. Meanwhile, it’s the first time he’s seeing you in a dress that somehow matches the colors of his outfit.

“Looking great, handsome,” you say.

Donghyuck pulls you for a kiss. “Could say the same to you, beautiful.”

“Why are you so touchy these days?” you whine but lean back to kiss him again anyway. “Ready? One of the parents called and said his kid is already in the venue. They’re excited.”

Donghyuck nods, grabbing a jacket just in case it gets cold later tonight, and leads the way out. Nana is dressed in a pretty dress Donghyuck gave her for Christmas last year. Donghyuck drives to the venue and finds himself nervous for the first time in a long time.

You’d managed to convince him to sing tonight despite his persistent refusal.

“Come on, Donghyuck,” you begged, pulling him by the end of his shirt as he harvests tangerines. “The audience will love you!”

“They paid their tickets to watch the kids of the community sing, not me,” he argued. “And besides, I haven’t sung in like, four months. Who knows? I may have forgotten to sing already.”

“Bullshit,” you said. “Your Nana would want to hear you sing live.”

“She’s already heard me sing live many times,” he replied. “She’s been to many concerts.”

You tilt you head, a habit he’s grown to really like. “But I haven’t.”

Donghyuck had wanted to kiss the pout off your lips at that time. “Watch it from Youtube.”

“You don’t get many lines!” you said.

“So, you do watch my performances in Youtube, huh?” he teased. “Only in NCT 127 I don’t get so much lines because there are more members. Try to listen to NCT Dream.”

“Donghyuck!” you bellowed in frustration as you follow him around the farm. “Please!”

He stopped and turned, a little too late for you to step back because you’re already pressed up against his chest. “Okay.”

“Really?” you asked, voice lower because your faces were just inches apart—one wrong move and you’d be kissing in the middle of tangerine trees.

He nodded, purposely moving his face closer. “Only if you start reviewing for the SAT again and start sending your drafted college applications from your laptop.”

“Who told you to sneak in and open my files!” you gasped.

“I was checking if you’ve ever watched porn in your life and I found something better: your college applications.”

“I hate you, you know?”

Donghyuck chuckled, moving even closer to intimidate you but he hoped you couldn’t his heart hammering against his chest. “I know. Now. Do we have a deal? I’ll sing at recital night and you start reviewing for the upcoming SAT and send out your college applications when it’s time.”

“I’m—I’m not sure.”

Donghyuck let you go, you almost falling back but he held your hand before you could. “Then I’m not singing.”

“But Donghyuck!” He turned to leave while you scream behind him, pleading.

Ten steps forward and he finally got what he wanted: “Okay! I’ll do it! I’ll start reviewing and will send all the drafted college applications! I’ll do it!”

Hence, the singing stunt for tonight.

The event goes as planned.

The night starts with Donghyuck’s entire class singing their own rendition of a famous traditional song that the crowd truly loved. One by one, the kids would sing, with intermission numbers in groups in between, and by the end of it, it was Donghyuck’s turn.

The minus one track is ready and Donghyuck takes a deep breath as he walks up the stage. It’s smaller than any of the stages he’s been on—perhaps the smallest—and the lights aren’t as bright than the ones he’s used to. Big stages mean big lights, and if he’s being completely honest, he doesn’t see a single face when he’s on stage. The illuminations to ensure the fans would see them are blinding, beyond what people think. While his mother thinks his eyesight has gotten worse due to the long hours of playing APEX on his days off, Donghyuck believes it’s because of the blinding lights from the stage and everywhere he goes.

However, this stage has the gentlest lights he’s ever seen. The crowd is small, about two hundred people including their students, and from here, he can see their faces clearly. He stands not too far away, not to high, and he smiles when the crowd cheers when he reaches the middle of the stage.

“Hello, I’m Donghyuck,” he says on the mic. “I’m the teacher of the talented kids we watched this evening, and I can’t be prouder with how they sang their hearts out tonight. To show my gratitude, I also prepared a song for you.”

The crowd cheers again, your voice standing out as you stand right beside the stage, your phone already up probably recording him.

“I sang this song some time last year,” he continues. “This is Good Person.”

The instrumental plays and the crowd claps before he even starts. Donghyuck breathes, closing his eyes, and sings: “What’s going on today? Your face looks like it’s been crying. Did he break your heart? You’re the most precious person in the world to me.”

He hasn’t sung in a long time, and he barely practiced this song yesterday. Donghyuck, for some time before everything went to crumbles, felt scared going on stage. He felt as though he wouldn’t do well enough to deserve the applause and cheers, and he spent a lot of time doubting his own capabilities.

Whoever he is now, Donghyuck truly worked hard for it. At first, he only knew how to sing and it was the only thing he ever loved. And then he learned how to dance, how to stand like an idol, how to answer like a celebrity, how to have his “candid” photos taken, how to be a proper artist—even when he only wants to sing.

Standing here, now, in a small crowd, singing a song he wished was his own, he wished he had written, Donghyuck feels safe.

In Jeju-do, he feels safe. Donghyuck feels like he’s found his way home. The people he’s spent all these months with brought him comfort he’s never known—like coming home after a whole day of being pestered in the real world—and he knows that he’ll never find ease and serenity the same way Jeju-do had given him. The town took him in with open arms, like he’s not some idol who ruined their career for fleeting pleasure, like he’s not some person who’d forgotten about all of them. His Nana embraced him like he was seven again, like making mistakes is normal and that forgiving is easy when you love the person. You accepted him and taught him what falling in love means as though he was deserving of love and comfort.

The song ends with his voice dragging out the last words, his eyes closed: “I can only comfort you.”

When Donghyuck opens his eyes, the lights don’t blind him and the people he knows and love clap, cheering for him. It comes to him like pouring rain. And he allows himself to drench in it—the tenderness, the warmth, the love.

Because he deserves it. He deserves the love, therefore he takes, takes, takes, until he’s full of it.

Like many times in Donghyuck’s life, the ease and serenity end as quickly as it arrives.

You’d spent the night in his home, Donghyuck for the first time learned how to make love in bed. He’s had sex before, of course, but never like how you and him connected in his bed—moans and music of pleasure hushed by each other’s mouth, his honey-colored skin’s warmth pressed against yours, his lips and tongue tasting every inch of you. He’d said he loves you, and you’d said it back as you and him take each other.

This morning he wakes up without a headache, and he’s been waking up without one for a few weeks now. He usually wakes up with the sound of roosters from his grandmother’s backyard, or the sound of you and his Nana talking over your morning coffee. But today, he wakes up with the sound of his grandmother knocking profusely, seemingly frightened by the sound of her voice calling his name.

“Donghyuck-ah,” she shouts. “Please wake up. I don’t know what to do.”

You and Donghyuck get up startled, scrambling to put some clothes on and hurrying to open the door—only to find Nana on the verge of tears. Nana never falters, she’d only shown strength but Donghyuck finds her shaking. Nana doesn’t get the chance to answer because Joohyuk barges in, sweaty and catching his breath.

“The mayor’s security team is here,” he announces. “Let’s get going.”

“Go where?” Donghyuck asks, but Joohyuk is already pulling him.

The door opens, and Donghyuck finally realizes what’s going on.

They’d found him. Men and women with cameras shout his name—he recognizes a few from the conferences he’d attended—and flashes of lights and the stuttering sound of shutters devour him. He looks around and he can’t see you and he hears his Nana cry, and Donghyuck doesn’t understand what the fuck is going on, but he feels his legs give out. Joohyuk practically carries him to the SUV waiting outside their home.

Inside the car, Donghyuck catches a glimpse of the crowd—a crowd that looks like twice the amount of the people from the recital last night. He hears them screaming his name and he sees glints of neon green and posters as they pass by. His Nana, who sits beside him, cries and says she doesn’t understand why they’d found him. The mayor had specifically ensured that the town’s residents do not say a word about his visit way before he’d arrived and she’d done her best to protect him from the lights. He doesn’t say anything and only hugs her tight.

On the other side of Nana is you. You’re staring off the window, the fields far more interesting than what just happened, and you’re biting off the nails of your fingers and your legs wouldn’t stop bouncing. And you’re silent, and Donghyuck wonders why all of a—

Donghyuck doesn’t have to ask you to know.

You’d sold him off.

“I’m sorry,” is all you had to say when you and him are left inside the mayor’s office’s lounge. Donghyuck asked everybody to leave.

You’re sitting on the couch, eyes on the floor, while Donghyuck walks back and forth, angry. “I didn’t mean to.”

He stops walking right in front of you. “What do you mean you didn’t mean to post me on your Instagram? How could you possibly accidentally do that?!”

You keep your head low. “I—I forgot that it wasn’t on private and I didn’t have that many of followers to even be bothered by it. And one of our old friends commented and asked me if it was you—”

“And you said yes?” he enunciated. “You consciously, deliberately said yes?”

You start crying at this point. “Yes, and I’m sorry!”

“That’s a little too late now, isn’t it?”

“I just—”

“You just what? You want to play the girlfriend role so fucking bad?”

“Donghyuck, please, listen—” You get up and hold him by his arms but he backs off and rips his body from yours. “I just—I wanted the world to know that you can be kind and warm and you’re nothing like what the tabloids say—”

“So, you admit you purposely posted it!” he shouts. “What a fucking—”

“Yes!” you admit, still crying. “Because I can’t live knowing the world sees you differently when you’re generous and loving and amazing!”

Donghyuck takes a deep breath, hands on his waist, head tilted up so he can focus on the ceiling instead of the image of you crying. “You have no idea how the world fucking works, do you?”

“You always loved singing,” you reason out. “And the world shouldn’t take that away from you because of one mistake. I’m so sorry for what I’ve done. I didn’t think it through, but please understand my purpose.”

“You really have no fucking idea,” he concludes, looking down at you, right in your eyes and says: “How would you have any knowledge of what goes on outside of Jeju-do, anyway? You have never left this god damn place in your entire life and you know nothing aside from stringing words beautifully to get what you want. And you think you’re fucking cool for not having a dream and staying in an island, living your small-town girl fantasy, when in fact you’ve done nothing in life and people won’t even remember you. Why would you think you can make this decision for me? You’re just some girl who didn’t even go to college!”

“That’s enough, Donghyuck!” Nana interrupts.

Donghyuck turns and finds his Nana, Joohyuk, some of the Mayor’s security staff, his manager, and his Mother standing right outside the now opened door.

He looks back at you and you’re no longer crying. Your expression is just empty, like a light bulb burnt out.

Indeed, like many times in Donghyuck’s life, the ease and serenity end as quickly as it arrives.

They take the first flight to Seoul after successfully shooing the media and fans away. Nana travels with them, his mother deciding that it’s the best for now until everything calms down.

Donghyuck finds out during the flight that yours and his old friend from middle school had reposted the video of him singing from last night and it went viral in multiple social media platforms. Overnight, people had found out his location and the media had started interviewing people in the town. Despite the mayor instructing everyone not to say a thing, some had answered questions, even submitted entries on some forums about Haechan online.

His manager talks about how their PR team sort of thinks this might just be what he needed, says something about the locals of the town had said so many good things about him. He confirms that the post originated from your Instagram account and you had deactivated at this point and that they’re in the process of contacting your old schoolmate because the agency wants to press charges for invading his grandmother’s privacy and for bothering him on an unofficial schedule.

His mother holds his hand all through, and she offers a kind smile and kisses the top of his head.

Donghyuck cries like baby, and his mother only holds him, and perhaps that’s all he truly needs.

The crowd is just as bad when his plane lands. Donghyuck can barely see and hear considering the lights and people shouting his name. They take him to a separate SUV, away from his mother and Nana to keep them off the radar, and he sits in the car beside his manager.

“Here,” his manager hands him a phone as soon as the car starts moving. Donghyuck had forgotten his phone. It’s probably still in his room back in Nana’s house. People are still screaming his name. Donghyuck stares at his manager’s phone blankly. The screen shows he’s in a call with Mark.

Donghyuck’s hand shakes when he takes it. He puts the device over his ear and doesn’t wait for Mark to say anything.

“Mark-hyung,” he cries.

And cries. And cries. And cries. Until he arrives in SM’s headquarters and the manager has to take the phone away from him. Mark tells him he’s on the way to the headquarters with Renjun and Doyoung and that the others should be on their way after their individual schedules.

They arrive and immediately their staff take care of him like a baby, and he realizes that he’s back. He’s back. Right where he’s supposed to belong.

They take him to the PR teams office, and none of them ask how he’s doing and he’s spiraling again—already starting to think how he could please the staff and make them happy, not even an entire day of landing in Seoul and he’s already thinking about other people at his own expense.

Hence, Donghyuck makes a decision he’s never considered before.

While one of the PR associates discuss how he’s ranked number one in Naver’s most searched term, Donghyuck raises his hand.

They all look at him.

And finally, Donghyuck says: “Please get me a therapist. Please get someone who can help me.”

The room is clean and if Donghyuck’s being honest, a little too perfect for a therapist’s office. A tiny part of his fucked-up brain tries to convince him that they’d probably set him up for a documentary he’s not aware of to clean his image, so he looks around and tries to check if there are any cameras setup.

“Truly a celebrity,” Dr. Yoon says, which makes Donghyuck jump a little. The doctor stands from the door way, closing it as he steps inside. “Please, feel comfortable.”

Donghyuck thinks that’s a little impossible, but he takes a seat one of the single couches.

“The first thing that celebrities do in my office is look around for cameras,” the doctor comments, sitting on a similar chair across Donghyuck. “And I assure you that no amount of money can buy my integrity as a psychologist.”

“I’m relieved,” Donghyuck mumbles. “Hello, I’m Donghyuck.”

“Hello, Donghyuck,” the doctor greets; Donghyuck bows. “I had a quick glimpse of your situation from the form you filled out online. Are you feeling better today?”

“I guess,” Donghyuck shrugs. Dr. Yoon smiles.

“How about I ask questions and if you don’t want to answer, stay silent instead of lying to me?” He asks. Donghyuck sighs but nods. “And if you want to answer, answer as truthfully as you can, yes?” Donghyuck agrees. “Let’s start with simple questions.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

Dr. Yoon asks him many close-ended questions, to which Donghyuck had given him all the answers to, then proceeds to ask him what’s on his mind. The doctor’s notepad sits on the table between them, left open and blank even after asking so many questions.

Donghyuck is not really sure whether he’d done the right thing by seeking help, but he can’t keep hurting people just because he’s fucked up in the head. And he can’t keep hurting himself just because he can’t make the entire fucking world happy. He can’t keep drinking his insomnia away because he’s scared a doctor may tell him he’s fucked up in the head, which he knows already, he just doesn’t want it written in his medical records. He can’t keep fucking up his group’s image just because the alcohol doesn’t help his insomnia anymore. He can’t keep drowning himself in his sadness and the thought of disappointing so many people in his life—the people he left behind in Jeju-do, the members, his fans, the staff, his parents and siblings, his Nana, you.

If melatonin didn’t work, if the alcohol didn’t work, and if Jeju-do didn’t work, then perhaps a therapist is his best shot at getting better.

Donghyuck takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and begins.

“I keep thinking about how I can make everyone happy without sacrificing anything.”

The doctor finally picks up the pen and starts scribbling down.

Donghyuck keeps talking.

Donghyuck goes to therapy on Tuesdays and Fridays, and SM keeps his hiatus status active until Donghyuck decides to come back himself. It’s an agreement his parents, Donghyuck, and the agency settled while things are still chaotic.

The members are supportive of this, especially Mark and Taeyong. They’d send him cheerful messages every Tuesday and Friday, when they know that his session would begin. Sometimes, Jeno, Jisung, and Jaemin would pick him up and take him to a barbecue restaurant after. Donghyuck can’t remember how many times Renjun and Chenle had driven him to therapy and had waited for a couple of hours, only to take him to his favorite Chinese restaurant that serves the best hotpot. The older members have also driven him to therapy once or twice, with Jungwoo even signing up for therapy one time, and they’ve all given him love and tenderness—which Donghyuck accepted.

Donghyuck learns many things from Dr. Yoon. He learns that people pleasing isn't a mental illness, but it can be an issue that adversely affects how many people, with or without mental illness, relate to others. Most of all, people pleasers try to nourish other people without adequately nourishing themselves. Dr. Yoon called it Sociotrophy. He described it as the tendency to place an inordinate value on relationships over personal independence in response to the loss of relationships or conflict.

Those with sociotropic tendencies, wish to make other people happy, often at the sake of their own needs or values. While being warm, kind, and helpful are positive traits, they can result in strong feelings of resentment, anxiety, stress, and emotional depletion when they come at your expense.

People-pleasing, apparently, falls at the opposite end of the scale from autonomy. Autonomy places emphasis on independence whereas people-pleasers prioritize interpersonal relationships above all else. People-pleasers are often extremely empathic and attuned to others’ needs. A people-pleaser therefore tends to pursue intimate, affectionate, and confiding relationships. These people have a strong desire for external validation and avoid, or are sensitive to, situations where conflict may arise. They will go above and beyond to avoid displeasing others out of fear of diminished social acceptance.

This behavior can have detrimental effects on a person’s self-worth and self-esteem. A never-ending pursuit of approval, a desire for acceptance, and a sense of validation that arise from others happiness often result in a negative self-image. The person is likely to feel unworthy, powerless, or resentful, which may result in a lack of self-care.

The way Dr. Yoon had described it basically sums up Donghyuck as a human being.

He also learns that Sociotropic tendencies are often associated with mental health disorders such as anxiety or depression, which finally gave them Donghyuck’s diagnosis: clinical depression, also known as major depressive disorder abbreviated as MDD.

Clinical depression is a chronic condition, but it usually occurs in episodes, which can last several weeks or months. Dr. Yoon says one would likely have more than one episode in a lifetime. Donghyuck had asked him what was the difference between MDD and depression as it is.

Dr. Yoon explained that it’s normal to feel sad when you’re faced with difficult life situations, such as losing your job or a relationship. Some people may say they feel depressed during these situations. MDD is different in that it persists practically every day for at least two weeks and involves other symptoms than just sadness alone. It can be confusing because many people call clinical depression or major depressive disorder just “depression.”

Dr. Yoon also blabbered about chemicals in his brain that, well, Donghyuck really doesn’t understand much. All he knows at this point is that the treatment involves some medication and most specially psychotherapy. Apparently, studies show that the combination of these treatments is more effective than either of them alone.

Donghyuck has been investing a lot of his time in psychotherapy. His normal sessions were every Friday, thirty minutes to a maximum of an hour each. Like how his prescription doses went up, he also requested his psychotherapy sessions to be more frequent, hence Tuesdays and Fridays, minimum of one hour a session, maximum of an hour and a half.

Donghyuck likes to think that over the course of eight weeks, he’d gotten a little better. It turns out that being honest with your doctor means you’d get prescribed the right pills to take to help you fall asleep. No wonder the melatonin pills he’d taken didn’t work in the long run; he was taking the wrong ones and the wrong dosage—just like how he’d been looking for happiness in the wrong places.

From today’s session, Dr. Yoon asked him if he could talk to his mother about how he’d felt for so many years—the pressure, the urge to do whatever pleases her, the comparisons with other members, everything. Hence, Donghyuck finds himself knocking on his parents’ room.

He’s staying at their home during his hiatus. He reckons it’s the best time to speak with her as his father and the kids are out for work and school.

“Come in, Donghyuck-ah,” she says softly from the other side. He opens the door and finds his mother writing something in her journal. “You need anything, baby? Do you want to eat?”

He shakes his head and walks towards their bed, sitting on its edge. His mother puts the pen down and sits beside him. “Something wrong?”

“Eomma,” he says in the softest voice. “Can I sleep here?”

The question brings tears to his mother’s eyes. She nods and leads him to bed, Donghyuck lying on his side and his mother cradling him from behind. He looks like he’s thirteen again, the day before the audition at SM, young and anxious about what the next day would bring, and his mother seems like she’s never aged a day, still determined and only wants the best for her children.

Donghyuck can feel her crying.

“I’m sorry, Donghyuck-ah,” is all she says.

And Donghyuck knows deep in his heart that even before she’d uttered her apology, he’s already forgiven her.

Haechan comes back right before Chuseok.

NCT Dream is invited to perform at a music festival held in the Seoul Olympic Stadium alongside many other artists. When news broke that this would be Haechan’s come back stage, the ticket sites went crazy—crashing every second because everybody wanted to get tickets to see the most-awaited comeback.

Over the course of seven months of Donghyuck’s hiatus, many things have changed. He gained more fans in the latter parts of the hiatus after the world learned his life in Jeju-do. He’d gotten a new piercing in his cartilage, which the fans love, but only Donghyuck probably understands what it means. Old videos of him going on stage went viral years later, the world seeing how talented and passionate he truly is. Clips of him randomly singing without autotune circulated for quite some time, and his fondness of children and respect for the elder have been the talk of the KPop industry for the last months or so, calling him the most well-mannered idol. The scandal had not been erased from history, of course; some people still hate him for it. Some of his old fan sites did not return to support him, and if we’re talking about old Donghyuck, he’d probably be pretty bummed about it. He’d probably start compromising his privacy to give them a glimpse of his life off the stage to get them back.

But the sessions with Dr. Yoon have been working well, because Donghyuck doesn’t really care about pleasing the entire world anymore. Donghyuck thinks that as long as there’s a good number of people supporting him and loving him for who he is—as a person and as a singer—then he’d be okay. He didn’t have to make the entire planet roar his name.

The dress rehearsals are done by the time the clock hit four in the afternoon. The members argue where to go eat. Jisung announces he’s going shopping for a new pair of wired headphones because he lost his on the way to the stadium, to which Renjun says he’d go with him. The others decide to go eat with the staff, some opt to go home and rest so they’d be ready for the next day.

Donghyuck decides to go buy the book that Johnny recommended him: The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. He’s told that the book is about a boy growing up, and that it might strike his thoughts if he’s up to reading a children’s book meant for adults.

Hence, Donghyuck finds himself going through shelves and sections of children’s book after picking up The Little Prince and wondering if Gyeom would want to read any of these.

You see, Lee Donghyuck is not much of a believer of fate. As he’d say before, his career didn’t happen by fate because it was all his mother doing all the hard work. But what are the odds of him choosing to visit this exact book store at this exact moment over elsewhere and another time?

And what are the odds of him finding you leaning against the wall in the corner of the store, hair longer than the last time, nose red and body bundled up in layers of clothes, a book in your hand as you read through it?

Donghyuck stops, stares at you, as if he’s waiting for you to look up from the book, and thinks about how much he’d missed you all this time and how much he’d regretted ending things with foul, unacceptable words. He thinks about remembering you anytime he sees tangerines and flowers around the city. He thinks about the odds of finding you again and again in this lifetime. He thinks about the flowers only blooming as soon as the butterflies have left, missing their timing, and how they bloom again next spring, hoping that this time, the timing is right.

He thinks about you in silence. He thinks about love hiding in the corners of his chest, convincing him he’ll get over it—he’ll get over you. He thinks about his dreams.

A few people pass by the space between you and him. The distance is about three meters. It’s silent for the most part.

Donghyuck is not much of a believer of fate, and you look up to prove him otherwise.

It’s only then that Donghyuck takes a really good look on you: new hairstyle, backpack slung in one arm, a student ID badge hanging right below your chest.

“Y/N!” A girl whisper-shouts from behind fDonghyuck. “Have you found the book?”

You don’t tear your glance away from him, but you nod and say, “Yeah. I’ll go check it out and I’ll meet you outside.”

The other girl doesn’t notice him and proceeds to leave. You take two, three, five, seven steps, and you’re right in front of him.

“Hi, Donghyuck-ah,” you say in the softest voice as soon as you’re close enough.

Donghyuck wonders whether this is just a dream or if he’d started hallucinating you because of the medicines he’s been taking, but then he catches a whiff of your scent, and Donghyuck believes.

Donghyuck believes in fate. In forgiveness. In healing. In love. In finding one’s way back home.

END

author's note: PLEASE tell me what you think of this in the comments or reblogs. I'd also appreciate if you send me you favorite line here. Thank you so much for reading until the end!

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sunflowersandsapphires · 12 days

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Into Utter Darkness

When Skies Are Gray, Chapter 6

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

summary: Frank’s life has reached a crossroads: he can either continue to seclude himself and pursue a dark, lonely future, or he can open himself up to connecting with someone again and maybe achieve happiness. Being the grump that he is, Frank has already committed to the lonely path, but his curious new neighbor might just turn that around.

warnings: A LITTLE TASTE OF ANGST, angry Frank, misplaced grief/guilt, catcalling, slight violence against women (non-consensual arm grab), sexism, swearing, slightly graphic descriptions of canon-typical violence

a/n: This is the start of our first angst arc for this series! This arc is a whopping 5 chapters so prepare yourselves! (there will be a happy ending though. Promise!) Sorry to shake up our beloved Frank and his sunshine, but we all know that Frankie gets in his head sometimes...

w/c: 3.4k

A feminine figure perched at his bedside, partially blocking the patch of sunshine leaking into the room. Though her presence stirred his consciousness, he still felt at peace. His limbs were heavy with fatigue, not quite able to resist the allure of the plush mattress.

“Hey sleepyhead,” Her voice was soft, intoxicating as a siren’s melody was for a sailor. It drifted over him with a featherlight touch.

His eyes fluttered open, smile tugging at his lips at the thought of seeing his beautiful wife. As his vision focused, the first thing he saw was a beautiful smile. But it wasn't Maria beaming at him.

It was you.

Undeterred, his cheeks squeezed as he smiled back at you. Chuckling as you leaned over him, he greeted you.

“Hey,” Bringing one hand up to cup your face, the world shifted as his knuckles met your cheek.

Flickering like a burst of static, your face morphed into a different one. His wife bent over, pressing a kiss to his lips. Every contact caused more static, your face alternating with Maria's as the two of you pecked his nose and then his forehead.

The happiness he'd felt upon seeing you was quickly turning to lead in his stomach. His hand instinctually cupped your–Maria's?–neck, cradling you both close to his chest.

As the body on top of his began to pull away, Maria's face seemed to settle–no longer interchangeable with yours. Dread growing, he willed his arms to shield her, to protect her. But his arms lay on the mattress, unresponsive.

The masked figure entered the room, as always, sturdy footsteps booming through the silence. Maria never saw him coming.

Until now.

Turning her head towards the intruder, Maria's smile didn't falter. Nodding in understanding, she stood, stepping over to the unnamed soldier without hesitation.

“No, no no,” Frank begged, body still paralyzed despite his efforts. “Where are ya goin', baby? It's not safe! Ya gotta stay here with me.”

“She's coming with me.” Growled the masked man. “You made your choice.”

Turning his head, Frank realized he wasn't alone on the bed. Perched on the other side of the bed, in a parallel position to Maria's just moments ago, you tilted your head at him. Nodding gravely, you took his hand.

“What?” He asked, confusion growing as you moved closer.

Placing the barrel of his gun against Maria's back, the other man began herding her out of the room. “You made your choice.” He repeated, trailing after the brunette until the pair was out of Frank's sight.

A shot rang out. A body thudded to the ground. All other sounds disappeared as Frank screamed.

Jolting awake, Frank's cry was cut short. Panting as he looked around wildly, his heart stopped trying to catapult out of his chest as he remembered where he was. His body was bound by twisted, sweat-drenched sheets. Grappling with the soaked cotton, he managed to unwrap himself enough to sit up.

Dropping his head into his hands, he dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, tugging at the ruffled strands of his hair with his fingers. His skin was crawling with discontent and guilt, his mind racing a mile a minute.

Sleep was no longer attainable, not with the amount of restless energy pulsing through him. But lying here, victim to his own fractured mind... That wasn't an option either.

Biting his lip to keep from groaning as he stood, he shuffled over to his dresser, yanking out a pair of jeans and an undershirt. Any sane person would've stayed in their home, turned on the TV or some shit. Frank, on the other hand, couldn't stand the idea of being here. Dreaming of losing Maria again and again because he was stupid enough to fall for someone else–a mistake he'd never recover from.

He needed to hit something.

Stepping outside wasn't nearly as relieving as he had hoped. It was too fucking hot. The sun had set hours ago, yet the city remained sticky and humid; coated with a sweltering layer of warmth. He was trying not to focus on how the temperature spurred his growing malaise into full blown rage.

It had been two days since you'd given him the babka. Every single taste that had passed over his tongue since then had been too weak to wash the acrid aftertaste of your work off of his tongue.

When he bit into the pastry, it transported him. It brought him back to before the Carousel. To Easters and birthdays and Christmases with his children and his wife—who would slave for hours on holiday mornings making her grandmother’s cinnamon babka.

The same dessert you'd crafted for a downstairs neighbor and asked Frank to taste.

It wasn't like Maria was the only one who had the right to make that recipe. He knew that. He did. And yet, as he tasted your creation, the only face he could see was Maria's.

Since then, her image haunted him continuously; her soft smile and brown waves etching themselves along the backs of his eyelids. While her presence followed him during his waking hours, his subconscious was determined to torment him with it while he slept--tonight was yet another crystal clear example of that.

These dreams, this immense guilt, they were his penance. This much he knew. Punishment for neglecting her memory. For moving on too fast and forgetting about the woman he had cherished years ago. For being happy, when he deserved damnation for his actions.

He was a piece of shit.

No, he was lower than shit. Worse than the lowlives he’d spent so much time killing.

Maria was his wife. His one and only love. It was about damn time he acted like it.

He'd blocked out the walk to the construction site, far too involved with his own self-pity to catalog the regular landmarks. He didn't even recall going up the elevator to the story he was currently on--but here he was, clutching the bowed wooden handle of a mallet for dear life and staring at a slab of graffiti-covered cement.

A drop of sweat rolled down the bridge of his nose as he adjusted his grip on the sledge hammer. He supposed he should be grateful for the physical discomfort. Anything to keep his mind too occupied to relive his nightmares from the week. The damned things were more obtrusive than usual, clinging to him in a parasitic fashion.

Sniffing in displeasure, Frank drove the head of the tool into the cement wall in front of him, splintering the foundation further. Grappling with the loosened chunks of concrete, Frank hurled them across the room towards the growing pile of debris. As they left his palm, the jagged edges scraped against his skin, drawing small white trails along it. The clatter of synthetic rock on solid floor echoed throughout the mess of scaffolding. Biting back a flinch, Frank began demolishing again, pouring all of the rage and hurt and guilt he’d bottled up into every swing of the hammer.

He could feel callouses beginning to form on his hands, but he refused to pause. Every second not spent destroying this wall was an opportunity for his mind to play tricks on him. For his eyes to let the various shadows spanning the building morph into images of wounded men and broken bodies. For his ears to let the sounds of the traffic below mutate into cries of agony.

Letting out a bellowing scream, he smashed the crumbling wall again. And again. And again. Until the flesh on his palm was rubbed raw and the darkness encircling the construction site started to fade. With an especially ferocious hit, his hammer snapped, practically disintegrating in his hands.

“FUCK!” He roared, chucking the pieces aside, splattering his own blood across the room in the process. His tight grip on the wooden handle had worn small gouges in his skin. He couldn’t bring himself to care about the pain. In fact, he craved it. Because he deserved it.

Stalking out of the room, he hurried to the freight elevator to grab another hammer. This wasn’t the first time his tools had failed him, he always had a spare on hand. And he was far from done taking out his frustration on inanimate objects.

Despite the multiple hours he’d already spent taking out his anger on the demolition his crew was assigned to, his irritation hadn’t even begun to fade when his coworkers arrived at the scene. Each haughty smirk that he received in greeting plucked at his already tense nerves—temper stretching thin like a rubber band about to snap. Most days, their muttered comments about his social ineptitude and inevitable stupidity rolled off his back without a second thought. But today, they were slithering under his skin and coiling up into small, malignant lumps.

“They ain’t payin’ us to work all night, dumbass.” Called a man with a red face and beady dark eyes. “Don’t expect overtime.”

A group of men chuckled at the jab, one younger kid kicking the bloody scraps of his hammer with a murmured. “Damn gimp.”

Biting his cheek, Frank continued to hammer away, eventually boring the crowd into moving on and finding better entertainment.

Relieved, Frank let his mind focus on the banging of the rubber mallet against concrete, anchoring himself in the renewed pain of each strike.

New York really did not handle the heat with grace. Jumbles of cranky residents wove through the streets, wiping off sweat and hocking out phlegm as they went. Horns blared in every direction, drivers continuing to be merciless towards the pedestrians not blessed with portable A/C.

Flashing a sickly sweet smile to the driver giving you the finger, you rushed across the intersection just in time for the pedestrian timer to end. Threading through the masses, you felt light on your feet despite the oppressive temperatures. Carefully tucked over your shoulder, a blue canvas bag bonked lightly against your hip with each step.

It wasn't particularly heavy, but it was laden with handcrafted treats and layered with ice packs. After catching a glimpse of how poorly Frank was doing, you'd dedicated a significant portion of yesterday evening to this little project—baking fresh bread, a batch of cherry turnovers, and far too many chocolate chip cookies. Your efforts, combined with a quick trip to the deli, would yield one hell of a sack lunch, or so you hoped.

A homemade lunch was a measly offering given the state of your restless neighbor, but it was what you could do. He clearly didn’t want to talk, if last night was any indication, so you’d help by feeding him. A few weeks ago you’d walked by a building in the midst of renovations and Frank had offhandedly mentioned that he was currently one of the crew members assigned to it. Assuming he was telling the truth, you knew right where the bulky man would be this beautiful morning.

And you were almost there, practically skipping as your heart fluttered with anticipation. There was something addictive about Frank’s reactions to your food. The noises he made when biting into your pastries were sinful, and you thought of those sounds more often than you’d ever admit. Your food, and even your presence most days, seemed to lift his spirits. After yesterday, you’d bet dollars to doughnuts that he could use a pick-me-up.

Rounding the corner onto the next block, the scaffolding finally peeked into your view.

The shadow of the industrial crane spanned over the entrance to the work site, moving slow as the first cloud in a thunderstorm. You almost expected a lightning strike as you stepped through the gates, even though the day had been nothing but sunny. Flats crunching on the dusty gravel, you swallowed nervously as site workers stared at you--their heads popping out from open windows and piles of debris like hyenas in the sahara. You heard a few low whistles as you paced along the trail, eventually halting when a broad shouldered man held up a grimy hand in your path.

“Pretty sure you're in the wrong place, sweetheart. The new Starbucks is on the corner of 7th and 54th.” He sneered at you, eyes drifting along the neckline of your dress as he spoke.

Smiling tightly, you lifted the strap of the lunch box. “Actually, sir, I'm here for F—er, Pete, sir. Pete Castiglione? I, uh, I have his lunch.“

Your face suddenly felt sweaty. You didn't need to turn around to know the workers were closing in on you like a pack of wolves about to tear into their fresh kill.

”Aw, ain't that sweet. Ay Johnson, go radio Castiglione, will ya? Tell him his girl's here. Honey, why don't ya go wait in that trailer. Wouldn't want a pretty thing like you to burn up in this heat.” Placing his hand much too low on your back, he ushered you into a small, air conditioned mobile office in the corner of the property.

Grinding his teeth as he stepped out of the elevator, Frank plastered a scowl onto his face in an attempt to look indifferent as the other men jeered. You'd ignited a foul satisfaction in them that did not lessen his rage. Marching past them as they made crude noises and howled with laughter at the fact that the “gimp had a girlfriend”, he was indescribably volatile when he shoved his way into the trailer.

Seeing you, all dolled up and holding a bag that was presumably for him, it should've made him smile. A week ago, it would have. But today, it made him nauseous. All he could see was Maria's sad smile as she was lead away at gunpoint.

Because he'd chosen you. Trading his wife, the mother of his children, in for a newer, more lively model because he was too weak to bear the weight of his sins alone. Until now.

There was a whistling in his ears, like the signal of a boiling kettle. He'd been pushed past his limit, and your visit was not appreciated.

You jumped as he slammed the door shut, but the tension quickly flooded out of your body as you recognized him.

“Frank,” You sighed, smile dancing across your lips.

“Wanna tell me why I was called down in the middle of a shift because 'my girl' was visitin'?“ Frank asked, voice tight as he tried to contain his rage. He wanted you to leave. He needed you to leave.

”Sorry, I didn't tell them to call me that, they just--“ With an airy chuckle, you trailed off. Swaying from foot to foot, your fingers traced idly along the stitching of the bag you carried.

”Why are you here?“ He grumbled, not in the mood to listen to your little stories.

You looked up at his deep tone, smile dropping from your face. ”I-I brought you lunch, Frankie.“ Holding out the bag to him, your brow furrowed as he crossed his arms, not even glancing at your outstretched hand.

”That ain't my name.“ He spat out, his fingernails digging into the flesh of his arms as his fists clenched involuntarily.

“You're right. Pete, that's what I meant.” You took a step towards him, curving around into his line of sight as if he was a frightened animal. “I brought you lunch, Pete. I thought it might make your week a bit better.”

He scoffed, turning his head away from your observant gaze. Finally within arm's reach, you brought a hand up to touch his cheek, running your finger over it like you had the night before.

His blood whirled beneath his skin, boiling with his white-hot fury. Ripping his face out of your touch, he pushed into your space, glaring down at you.

“You ain't my wife.” He growled, teeth bared as his frustration bubbled over.

Shrinking back, your face fell at his words. “What?”

“You ain't my wife. You can’t show up to work dressed like that and touchin' me...touchin' me like that.” Raising a hand towards his face, he could still feel the imprint of your fingers, as if you'd branded him.

“Fra–Pete, I—” You stammered.

“Whaddya think we are, hmm? Think I'm your little boyfriend or somethin'? Think just because we've had a few dinners, I wanted somethin' more?”

“I...I didn't mean to assume, I just—”

“You just what, sunshine?” He threw the pet name at you out of habit, but his words were drenched in anger, burning his mouth like acid. “You just decided that I'm too helpless to feed myself? That I needed someone in my life to take care of me?”

“You deserve—” You objected, but he spoke over you.

“DON'T TELL ME WHAT I DESERVE,” The words came out as a roar. He threw his hands out in a gesture of exasperation. The motion made you flinch, bringing him out from behind his wall of rage briefly enough for him to regret it.

He'd scared you. He'd scared you.

Maybe that was for the best. He thought to himself. Steeling himself, he backed away from you a touch, retreating back into the anger he'd been wading in all day.

“I never asked ya to feed me, or to patch me up, or to act like my fuckin' housewife. I never wanted that.” He shook his head, chest constricting as the image of Maria being taken from him played again in his mind.

“I'm sorry, so sorry.” You murmured, your voice broken beyond recognition.

“I–I made a mistake. This was a mistake.” He muttered to himself, fists still tightly curled as his brain scrambled to process the flood of emotions.

After a moment of silence, he jerked his head toward the door. ”You should go.“

Nodding, you moved forwards, arms outstretched to hug him. Rather than fall into your embrace as usual, Frank recoiled. A little gasp slipped from your lips as he shied away from your touch. Retracting your arms, you gripped the shoulder strap of the bag hanging across your body.

“Have a good day, Frank.“ Your voice was almost a whisper. Turning your back to him, you opened the trailer door and disappeared into the blinding light.

The day seemed absurdly bright as you stepped back into it. It was almost taunting you. Reminding you how happy you'd been mere minutes before the earth split underneath your feet.

Your heart was pounding, adrenaline surging, throat tight as you held back the tears forming in your eyes. In your distracted haze, you missed the last step, nearly getting a mouthful of dirt as you hit the gravel.

Snickers echoed in your ears, burly construction men closing in on the wounded fawn as she scrambled to escape. Clambering to your feet, you ducked your head, face flooding with heat as the comments started.

”Aw, where ya goin' doll?“

”Hey, if Stupid doesn't want that, could I get a piece?“

”Don't cry, darlin'. You’ll ruin your pretty face.“

Forcing your way through the circle of men, you squeaked as a hand grabbed your arm. Every nerve in your body felt like it had been split in two, distress and fear saturating your every thought. Struggling limply against the hand coiled around your bicep, you wanted to puke.

“Where ya goin' darlin? We ain't through with you yet.” The man's piercing green eyes bore into you, his fingers making divots in your skin as he gripped you. His breath smelled like stale coffee and antiseptic, making you cringe. “C'mon darlin, don't want you to leave without gettin' some. Ain't that why you're exposin' yourself like that?”

Yanking out of his grasp, you broke into a wobbly jog, the barrage of smug laughs and wolf whistles chasing you back out onto the sidewalk. Shouldering your way through the crowd, you panted. You needed to sit down, to catch your breath before you fainted.

Your vision tunneled, circling around a department store about two intersections away.

Closing in on the building, you stumbled through the automatic doors and scurried through the aisles until you found the bathroom. Hurling yourself into a stall, you let the canvas bag fall to the floor as you collapsed onto the seat with a choked sob. Pulling out your phone, you sent a rushed text to your boss letting her know not to expect you for the day. Then, you let your composure crumple to the dingy tile floor.

Thanks for reading!!

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angelthemanspanker · 3 months

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my most tinfoil hat AtS opinion is that legit straight up canon spangel was like RIGHT beneath the surface of season 5, like the show was ready to pivot in the direction of them being at least friends with benefits at a moment's notice despite fate and the censors' best efforts

Season 1 had shit like Angel's first power walk shot set against a pride flag and him awkwardly telling guys he wasn't hitting on them, going for a kinda Adam West Batman kinda gay thing where people assume that about him bc it's the early 2000s and his clothes fit VS Season 5 in the premiere alone giving us Angel correcting a guy who calls him a "little fairy" with "I'm not little" and the legendary, blog-inspiring "I have no problem spanking men" (one of which he says to a guy he's about to kill and one to a guy he knocked out, almost like Angel lets gayer behaviour slip if he's around people who can't bring it up later hm) followed by the only man we KNOW Angel has fucked literally appearing from thin air in his office

then you get Life of the Party where Angel's Whacky Magic Antics are set off by Lorne telling Angel and the person he's having sexually tense arguments with to get a room, causing him to have ill-advised hate sex he ordinarily would not have with someone he is reluctantly attracted to. and I believe in my BONES that at SOME POINT in the scripting process that that person was gonna be Spike. Even setting aside my admittedly subjective opinion that Angel and Eve had even less sexual chemistry than Xander and Willow, it just... scans. Angel and Spike have their "I need to get our faces within an inch of each other or I'll die" arguments in front of EVERYBODY in literally every episode of the season, so I feel like if Lorne was gonna say it about ANYONE it'd be about them. I will never budge from my belief that Spike still being a ghost at this point and early 2000s tv politics caused them to abandon the Angel And Spike Magically Fuck At The Party plot early in the writing process for the episode and slot Eve in there instead while Spike gets the easy-to-write-into-existing-scenes positivity thing.

and THEN. AND THEN. it becomes a plot point that the show Angel's friends are suddenly really on board with him getting back out there dating-wise (the unperson-ing of Cordelia helps here. whee.), with us all suddenly being in agreement that there is little to no danger of his curse being triggered by sex (even though both times he's lost the soul since his curse, real or imagined sex played a significant role in the moment of happiness). Like, Nina is one of the more one-dimensional characters in the Buffyverse and her midness seems to be for the purpose of setting the audience at ease that Angel's soul ain't going anywhere from hooking up with her.

WESLEY is all for it! Wesley "Most Paranoid and Prepared For The Return of Angelus" Wyndam-Pryce is saying look man we're all rooting for you go have a relationship with a girl whose only flaw that I can come up with is that she's a werewolf. Like sir??? How can you be sure the Beautiful Engaging Young Woman Who Actually Wants You won't accidentally make Angel happy with her extremely inoffensive flavour of Nice?

Whereas if, say, there was a beautiful, engaging blonde who actually wants Angel and Angel wants but comes with the caveat that THIS beautiful blonde not only drives Angel up the fucking wall but recently had magical sex with Angel at the office party in front of the whole main cast, proving that as much as Angel gets off on screwing Spike that he is Not happy about it? I can see Wes giving the all clear on that one ngl

bonus points that Angel and Nina got the Official Couple upgrade in Smile Time which comes right before the Illyria tragedy forces Angel and Spike into the... maybe not friendly but LESS hostile dynamic they keep for the rest of the show, so the season structure of their relationship still follows a lot of the same beats. honestly besides getting a lot more moments of David Boreanaz and James Marsters trying to out-six-pack each other in their post-coital shirtless scenes the only thing you'd need to do is change the world-shattering "Me and Angel have never been intimate. Well except that one..." to something along the lines of "Me and Angel have never been intimate, I just shag the bastard"

#benny russell voice its REAL.#angel #spike #angel the series #spangel

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padfootdaredmetoo · 9 months

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I come with requests (pls). You can decide if it has smut or not but-

SHERLOCK (ENOLA HOLMES VERSION) IS TALKING TO IRENE AND Y/N IS JEALOUS CUZ HE SEEMS TO FLIRT WITH HER N STUFF.

Again, you can decide if there's smut or anything but I NEED this fic.

It would be greatly appreciated as I need another reason to listen to Reputation.

Hey Anon,

Again I'm incredibly sorry you had to wait so long. Hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: Smutt, dom / sub vibes, arguing

The whole situation was wrong. You stood in the doorway of Sherlock’s apartment, the apartment you recently had to move into. The woman seemed to enjoy your startled expression, her eyes were dark and there was a smirk ghosting on her red lips.

“This is-” Sherlock started his eyes fixed on the woman, to your relief he had kept his distance. He was leaning against the fireplace mantel.

“Oh, I know who she is.” Her eyes narrowed, and her body was sprawled across the couch. “I’m Irene, an old friend of Sherlock’s,” She said moving her gaze back to him.

You wanted to throttle her, wishing that women’s issues could be settled like men. Instead, you smiled brightly.

“If I knew we were having guests I would have put something together. I’ll put the kettle on.” You moved into the kitchen.

“No need darling. I'm not here for tea.” She uncrossed her legs and sat upright. “I came here for business.”

Then it started. You stayed on the edge of the room as the two started to banter. Crime scenes, clues, motives, both trying to get the upper hand. You struggled to keep up as they argued, one thing was glaringly obvious. The tension in the room was palpable. You felt the electricity and it made you sick to your stomach.

They were an inch away from each other, Sherlock looking unimpressed and cold, while she looked like she was savoring every moment of the interaction.

“Maybe you should look a little closer, somewhere in the woods maybe?”

“Moriarty-”

“Sends his regards.” She whispered her eyes focused on his lips. Part of you felt like you should intervene, and the other part of you felt like slinking away. This was so embarrassing, he seemed to forget about your existence altogether. Part of you knew it was because he wanted the missing information from the case he was working on, but the rest of you couldn't feel that logic.

You were swallowed up by his lack of concern for you. He looked and acted as if he was single, he was doing exactly what she wanted him to do.

She turned on her heel and left, slamming the door behind her causing you to jump. Your stomach and chest were tight, but you would rather be shot than let him see that he had hurt you.

You moved to the bedroom and shut the door, locking it even though you knew he would probably be sitting there sorting through her riddles.

You grabbed a bag stuffing it with clothes, anger seeping out of you. It was going to be a huge mess if you went to your sister's place like this but you didn’t care. Any place was better than here.

You opened the bedroom door and to no surprise, he was sitting there staring out the window. Muttering under his breath. He never liked being interrupted when he was like this. So you walked across the living space towards the front door.

“Where are you going?” He asked exhaling smoke from his pipe.

“Doesn't matter.” You shrugged.

“Of course, it matters.” He stood up fully attentive now.

“No -”

“She just gave us the missing clue, Morarity is--”

“Is a fucking ponce. I don't have time for this Sherlock. I can't do this,” You slipped a little then took a deep breath making your way closer to the door.

His large frame blocked you and you were surprised that he was making such an effort to keep you there. He looked like he was struggling to explain something.

“You're angry. I don't understand why.” This made your blood boil. “But Moriarty wants you.”

“I’m glad someone does.” You bit back. His face was stern and you knew he wasn't going to let you leave and a part of you was happy to argue.

“You don’t think I want you.” His voice was just above a snarl, and his eyes were dark. His anger had the opposite effect on your body, your pulse raced and you suddenly felt a few degrees too hot. His glare was consuming and you hated him for how attractive it was.

“Obviously not. She was all over you, and you - you - you - just let her. Right in front of me - you didnt even -” He leaned his face closer to yours and your words cut off.

“She wants you to run out of here angry. There’s a delivery carriage just up the street that hasn't moved since she got here.”Sherlock whispered. “She’s already left, thinking you’d run out of here. We have the upper hand.”

You thought about what he was saying, there was plenty of logic. The way her eyes would land on you periodically despite flirting with Sherlock. She was obvious too obvious about it. You still felt like fighting.

“I don’t like this.” You gritted your teeth. Many converstations had recently been had over the many ups and downs of the life he lead. How you were attched to him publicly now due to a careless misstep. Now you understood his reluctance all these months.

Moving in with him was the safest option. You didnt realise how angry all of that made you, how your private life was boiled down and sold as broth for everyone to consume. Somthing so dear to you, you knew deep down you wouldnt want to live without him. You closed your eyes, you wanted him. But the world needed him. All those murdered women, cases left unsolved completley neglected until he would show up.

He was doing what was right. A thought that comforted the anger you felt at the loss of control.

“Then let me make it up to you.” He said through gritted teeth. A voice in the back of your mind told you to run away from the darkness in his eyes. Your body stood frozen in place, welcoming his rage.

He closed the space between the two of you and gripped your jaw tightly. You looked up at him with wide eyes, he was so angry. His mouth crashed into yours and you felt yourself slip away into blissful submission.

This wasn't normal for you. When you wanted to fight you let him have it. You would shout at him and was always secretly grateful that he could take it. He never tried to take advantage, letting you express your emotions freely. Normally without consequence. But his hands were warm and gripping at your flesh madly.

You felt like you should make an effort to push back, try to take some control back. But your body had a mind of its own. You wanted him to make it up to you, and for once you didn’t want to be the one thinking and doing.

You let him ravish you, pulling apart the front of your dress. His mouth biting the flesh along your breastbone. He pushed you against the living room wall, and a crashing sound was noted in your periphery but you didnt have the brain power to care. He used his knee to press his way between your legs. His hand ran up the inside of your thigh bringing your skirts up higher.

His mouth tenderly sucked in a nipple causing you to knot your fingers in his hair. A groan escaped your lips, your eyes fluttered closed and the last of your thoughts faded away.

Your mind was singularly focused on receiving his touch. He placed one last sharp bite against the base of your neck before picking you up. He kissed you messily as he carried you back to the bedroom. Kocking over piles of books and experiments. The place would be a disaster after but you didnt care. His large body somehow managed to safely navigate the chaos before reaching the bedroom. He threw you down on the bed and quickly discarded your dress. His body was on yours in the span of a breath, he wasn't going to risk letting you sober up and snap back to reality.

A faint warning sounded that there were still men waiting outside the house… That thing could be dangerous. The thought only made you wetter.

Your mind went blank as you felt his mouth on your clit. No warm-up, no warning. Your legs snapped shut and you let out a scream. Your hips bucked and he placed a hard slap to the side of your thigh.

You were getting close, your voice was loud. He moved away and you tried to push his face back down. He resisted you easily. With a fluid motion, he had moved his whole length inside you. The stretch was almost enough to make you orgasm.

“Not yet.” He snarled, thrusting inside you wildly. His large hand cradled your neck with a delicious grip, his teeth sinking into the flesh under your collarbone once more.

The pain and pleasure was too much for you. Your hips met his every thrust desperate for his command. Your throat was sore from crying out.

His thrusts became harder and deeper, stealing the air from your lungs. Your whole body was tensing up.

“Cum” he growled into your ear and your body contracted and seized. The pressure was unbearable, he forced his way in and out of your tight cunt, finding his own release.

After an eternity your body finally collapsed into nothingness. The most soothing nothingness.

Sherlock collapsed onto the bed next to you. Pulling you against his naked body tightly. You let him move your limp body, still not able to grasp the world.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered into your hair. His voice was thick with grief, and you shuddered against the sudden cold that moved against your skin. “I will send you to Frace, there is a monastery there -”

“Stange thing to do to a woman before banishing her to live with nuns” You mumbled rubbing your cheek against the hair on his chest.

“I can keep you safe.” He sighed heavily.

“Perfectly safe here. He’ll find me if you send me away, better to stay next to you. Handle this like every other case.” You were very proud of the contributions you made to the cases you had helped with.

___________

The man shifted looking down at his watch once again. The lady never left the apartment. He felt antsy, Moriarty made it very clear how he deals with disobedience, the last thing he wanted was to end up another case file on Sherlock’s desk.

He didnt really want this job. He looked at the apartment window through his side-view mirror. Guilt hit him at the thought of kidnapping a woman. His brother had made it very clear that this was the only way to pay off his debts. The thought of his nephew and sister-in-law, made him stay in his seat.

Stupid family.

After a long while he got down from the carriage. He ran up the stairs and was hit with the sounds of crashing and screaming without his better judgment opened the apartment door. 221B, just like in the papers.

To his astonishment, the place was trashed. Books, instruments, broken glass, and various liquids thrown across the hardwood. The sound of the woman’s screams made his stomach drop. Sounds like maybe someone else was hired, in case she went the other way or something. With a heavy sense of guilt, the man turned and shut the door behind him. He ran down the street leaving the carriage there. Maybe whoever else was on the mission would go back for it.

Thinking one last bitter thought about his family, he got on the next train out of London. He sat on the train and said a prayer for the poor woman, pledging never to get involved with such things again.

#sherlock holmes #Enola holmes #Sherlock holmes #henry cavill #Sherlock Holmes X reader #Henry Cavill Sherlock x reader #Enola Holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes oneshot #enola holmes oneshot

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autism-connoisseur · 11 months

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what's your take on karkat now that you know his big secret?

genuinely amazing how his whole personality is a defense mechanism.... this guy cares he cares so much but his whole life hes had to push people away lest they Find Out.... living in constant alert ever since he had consciousness of how Different he was and how dangerous that was for him, knowing that everyone around him would cull him on the spot if they found out about It.... if im not mistaken trolls' tears are the color of their blood so he also had to repress himself to Not Cry. and for a person as emotional as karkat thats such a challenge!! not even out of sadness, or grief, but people also cry out of happiness, nostalgia, frustration, anger... those two especially i can see happening to karkat. and hed hate it.

he can be so Mean sometimes, perpetually angry... sure, it might be part of his personality, he is definitely easily irritated and prone to heat-of-the-moment decisions (like when he ran sollux's code and promptly exploded his computer and cast a curse on himself & his friends) but like i said, he's lived his entire life having to be Alert, not being able to let his guard down, because he would die if he did!! and at the same time he needs to prove himself, prove that despite being Wrong and Different he can do things!! he can be useful!!! maybe if he makes himself useful enough someone will even see him as a person and not just a mutant... thats why he is so dead set on being the leader. much like dave he has lived his whole life Needing To Be In Control Of Things (rose too, but shes more like she needs to Understand People, if she can read people correctly then she can avoid them flipping on her (no she cant that is not how it works babe)), but whereas dave is content with letting june be the leader (even if he wants to surpass her, hes very much doing his own thing anyways) karkat NEEDS to be the leader because that way he will prove that hes capable (to his friends in particular but to society as a whole, they are basically a mini representation of society anyways with each of them representing each caste).

but also he blames himself, he blames himself so much whenever anything goes slightly wrong and that feeling just gets amplified since he ran sollux's virus. it's a vicious circle for him since he needs to be in control and call the shots to feel like hes useful (defense mechanism, you wouldn't get rid of an useful pest even if he was a pest now would you?), but whenever something goes wrong under his command he freaks out (maybe relating it to his blood color? like he is Bad so this happened. also we know he takes sollux's virus's curse very seriously), he takes it as proof that He Personally Is Wrong and obviously everyone knows this, but since he doesnt want to be seen as that and he wants society to accept him without ever realizing there was a reason they shouldnt (see: also why he wanted to join the military or some part of it at the very least) he doubles on his efforts on Controlling everything.

and when he realizes they created our universe, it finally gives him a chance to be above someone. to be the powerful and not the powerless, the respected and not the shunned. its why he treats the beta kids as stupid, inferior beings, and why he constantly points out that he is their god even though he isnt (well he technically is but you get it). it mimicks the way some highbloods treat lowbloods, but where the highbloods are like that because society told them it's their natural right that they were born with, karkat does it to forget what that same society told him: that he was somehow intrinsically worse than anyone else. so bad, in fact, that he'd be better of dead. actually, he'd be so better off dead that they want him dead, that they will kill him as soon as they find him. so of course he takes the chance to not feel like that! of course he wants to feel superior! he needs to be the one above for once, he needs that control over someone instead of feeling like he needs to watch out for everything and anything. he sees a chance to not be the lowest link in the chain, and he takes it. sure, he may be a mutant, but theyre human... and not just any humans. the very same humans that doomed their session, the session karkat threw himself into because not only did it grant him escape from a planet that hated his existence (as much as he also idealized, trying to fit in, trying to not be seen as Abnormal even though all the beta trolls are Abnormal & don't fit in), it also gave him the chance to, like i said, prove himself.

he trusts his friends, he does, and he said he'd tell them his blood color eventually. but he needed to be ready and that's why both jack noir & terezi, or at least their reactions, are so important to him. neither of them shuns him, they don't attack him, they don't make fun of him of call him aberrant or do anything that most trolls would. fair, jack noir isn't a troll, and he doesn't even understand why karkat is freaking out. but when he shows him his own blood, the same color, karkat is suddenly not alone. even if red blood doesn't mean anything special to jack, to karkat it means the world to see that he is not some abomination, that the universe didn't signal him out to be different than the rest forever and always. and terezi, terezi is what really does it for him. shes somewhat high in the hemospectrum, she is someone that karkat likes (and apparently kissed! good for him because God knows the kid didn't let anyone in out of fear of being found out), she is a troll. and she doesn't mind. she even calls him adorable in the same log! the beta trolls are outcasts of the alternian society; and they are karkat's friends. that's why he was willing to tell them eventually: it was his secret to keep and his secret to share. and even if terezi found out when he wasn't ready yet, her reaction was absolutely positive. again, these kids are the furthest away from troll society as they can be, almost its opposite, which is why karkat thought about telling them, is willing to tell them. he knows hes safe with them.

ive seen people point out how his handle (carcinoGeneticist) references his sign (carcinogenesis is the process by which an organism gains cancer) and both these things represent how hes considered an anomaly & something to be rid of, something sick; i also think it's. ironic that he's the knight of blood, but i don't know enough about classpects yet to analyze that. it must have felt like a cruel joke to him, though, being told that his literal title was someone who fights for the same thing he's ostracized for. it would certainly piss me off that's for sure.

#asks #karkat vantas #get analyzed idiot #<- character analysis tag

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awarmcupofmilk · 2 years

Text

Gojo x reader "Finishing Start"

afab!reader

series: pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 pt 6

summary: half gojo’s pov- a drunken conversation ends your five year marriage w/ gojo

content warnings: breakup/sad, angst, deviations from gojo’s past arc, slight descriptions of violence (from fight w/ a curse), divorce

word count: 1,368

note: thoughts on this ending?

please don’t repost, edit, translate, use, or copy my works on any platforms (if you’d really like to please reach out – reblogs are welcome)

Gojo ran his hand over his face. He had made you cry again. He lashed out. He made your job search about the money. And he still was no closer to finding out what he did.

He called Geto.

“Are you sure you can’t remember?”

Geto sounded apologetic even through the phone. “I think you’re your best shot at remembering. But Satoru, I don’t think it was just that night.”

Gojo didn’t say anything. After muttering a word of thanks and hanging up, he found himself lost in thought.

✧

You stared at the curse in front of you, something purple and viscous and disgusting oozing out from beneath it. The special-grade bellowed and charged at you.

You closed your eyes and felt your cursed energy surge, channeling your innate technique.

Ah, you’d missed this, you thought. The exhilaration of missions, the joy of doing something for yourself, the satisfaction from saving others, the impact of your energy against a cursed spirit. You didn’t regret giving it up when you did, but you really did miss this.

You took out the curse with some effort, it had been a while; you were rusty. When you miscalculated a move and had to jump back, the curse’s nail dug into your arm. You’d have to go see Shoko later, it was considerably deep. But you knew you had done well. The reevaluation would be successful. Some previously anxious part of you was relieved that after half a decade of no practice, you still ranked a grade 1.

✧

You sighed as you made it to Shoko’s. You ran into Gojo on the way. Insanely awkward. He froze, seeing your bloodied arm, but you didn’t meet his gaze. Besides sorting out the logistics of divorce, you hadn’t been speaking with him.

“What’s with the doom and gloom?” Shoko turned towards you when you entered the room.

“You have to ask?” You chuckled. And Shoko, eyebrow raised, nodded in understanding.

“You know, he really is being a baby about this.” Shoko said as she healed your cut.

“No kidding,” You snorted.

“Well, good to have you back.” Shoko said. You gave her a hug and thanked her before leaving.

✧

Gojo had a box of kikufuku in front of him. What Geto said swam and echoed in his mind. “I don’t think it was just that night.”

He took one, bit into it, and remembered.

You had been cooking dinner when he came home. You greeted him with a smile, even though you were clearly tired. Namie was playing with her stuffed bunny.

“‘Toru,” You had smiled. “I made nikujaga.”

“Okay,” Satoru had responded curtly. He’d gone upstairs to change, and you’d looked disappointed.

He had forgotten until now. That almost unsettled him more than the actual memory. Had he really cared so little about how you felt that he forgot?

He took another bite of the kikufuku.

He had come back from a mission and went out. It was the first time he didn’t come straight home after a mission. He didn’t do much, mostly just strolling around a shopping mall.

When he turned around, you were standing there, expressionless. He felt his phone vibrate and saw that you had called him twenty-three times, seeing as he had returned but was nowhere to be found.

You were too far away, he couldn’t be sure, but it looked like you had wiped a tear. But then, you ran up to him, and you were smiling. You didn’t look happy, more resigned. He hadn’t noticed.

“I’m glad you’re back,” You had said. “But at least call me when you get back next time, okay? I had to find out from Shoko.”

He’d muttered some sort of agreement. He thought maybe you’d sighed.

Gojo felt cold. He took another bite.

He’d begrudgingly took out time to come to your reunion. He’d stood silently as you introduced him, occasionally acknowledging the conversation. He could tell he was making the atmosphere awkward. Your friends were uncomfortable. You were trying to make the best of it. But then he left. He vaguely felt you turning around trying to look for him. Walking over to the bar, he didn’t drink but bantered with someone, he wasn’t sure who.

Your friends shook their heads. You had sighed. You’d walked up to him, tone somber. “Satoru, it’s time to leave.”

He had nodded and gotten up, but he hadn’t noticed that for once, you didn’t call him “‘Toru”.

And then what you’d said entered his mind. “Do you really need me to point out how little you cared about me or this family?”

“Did it ever occur to you that what you did might be too painful, too humiliating for me to repeat? I don’t owe you an explanation!”

“You’ve done enough harm.”

“We both know you’ve done enough to justify this just from what you can remember. Focus on that.”

“Self-respect? You’re talking to me about self-respect?”

“I thought after our last conversation you’d actually indulge in some self-reflection.”

“You make me sick.”

And his stomach dropped at the thought that he hadn’t listened to any of it. Even now, he’d only reflected because of what Geto said.

Did you hold even any significance in his heart? He felt despicable.

And then, by some miracle, he remembered what he said that night.

“Marriage really isn’t all that.”

“I’m really wasting my life. I’m always worried on missions, and now this is always being used against me, you know they gave up being a sorcerer.”

(“It was for Namie though, right?”) “Sure, but did I ask for that?”

“Look, all I’m saying is, Y/N and I were friends in Jujutsu High. Maybe we should have stayed at that.”

He slid off the couch, head between his knees.

Who was he to interfere with your life? What had he ever done to give him that right?

He had no answer.

✧

You’d officially received your reevaluation. Grade 1 sorcerer. You’d be on missions soon, you were added to the payroll, it seemed like everything was coming together.

Then Gojo called. Ugh.

You were in such a good mood, too. He was sure to ruin it. But besides for Namie, you’d been ignoring him for weeks. So, gritting your teeth, you answered.

“Y/N? Oh, Y/N,” Gojo said, hurriedly, as if he was afraid you’d hang up, yet relieved. “I’m so glad you picked up,”

“That’s a new tone for you,” you said, sarcastic yet pleasantly surprised.

“I’m so—” He began, then stopped. “I… I just wanted to let you know I think you should have the house.”

“Oh,” you’d said, completely pleasantly surprised now.

“Just let Namie visit when I find a place, okay?” You rolled your eyes. As if you’d been keeping her from him.

“Anyways,” Gojo continued. “I just, if Namie needs somewhere to stay when you’re on missions, I’m here—unless I’m also on a mission, but, yeah.” He finished awkwardly.

What was up with him?

“Uh, okay,” you said, confused, but pleased.

“Great, we’re still on for today, right?”

You hummed in confirmation. And he hung up.

What was that?

You frowned to yourself. But seeing the time, you went to get Namie. He was visiting today.

✧

The three of you walked down the street. Namie held an ice cream cone, munching happily, humming to herself. You held her hand and kneeled down to wipe her face with a napkin. She giggled, and though you knew you’d have to wash her dress later, you laughed, too.

Gojo watched the two of you, fighting the thought that maybe he had lost the happiness in his life. This family would never be the same again.

He felt a tear slide down his cheek in surprise, and wiped it away. You looked up then, and noticed, as you do, with a questioning glance. “You okay?” You mouthed, not wanting to concern Namie.

Namie looked up then and gave him a grin. She held up the cone to him. You lifted her up so she could reach, content smile on your face.

And Gojo, taking a bite, wondered what it was he felt in his chest.

<- Previous part ✧⭐︎☆⭐︎✧ END

✧ Masterlist ✧

taglist: @skzismyhome @chanyeolscoon @cloudsinthecosmos @dunnowhy-m @mykyoon @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn @96jnie @scaraslover @iam-mia9 @carirosesg @aeanya @wretchedthingluz @whippedbyikemen @vesta-ro

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 10 months

Text

Several Shots Later (Pro!Sero x Black!Chubby!Fem!Reader)

youtube

Pairing: Pro!Sero Hanta x Black!Chubby!Fem!Reader (Strangers to Lovers)

Synopsis: In which you go on a vacation in an effort to relax and feel more confident, but find yourself falling for the sexy stranger who sends you a drink across the room and also happens to give you some firsthand dance lessons and a night you’ll never forget.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Aged Up!Sero (he’s in his late 20s); Chubby!Reader; Black-coded!Reader (but anyone can still read this); Marijuana/Alcohol Use; Sero Speaking Spanish; Petnames: (Baby, Mama, Mami); Skinny Dipping; Strangers to Lovers; Drunk Sex; Exhibitionism; Public Oral; Shotgunning; Dirty Talk; Daddy/Papi Kink; Rope Play; Spanking; Spitting; Facefucking; UNPROTECTED PIV Sex; Mild Choking; Mild Degradation; Cum on Body; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: HAPPY B-DAY WEEK TO MY FAVORITE LATIN KING SERO!! I typed this from his bed btw. Posting it early cuz this weekend, I'm gonna be soooo busy. Anyway, I had this idea after listening to "She's Hot" (the song above) & thinking about dancing to it with Sero cuz y'all know damn well he can MOVE. Enjoy! -Jazz

P.S. If my Spanish is trash or inaccurate, please PLEASE let me know! I used Google Translate lol

Read on AO3 here!

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He’s been staring at you all night, ever since you sat at the bar twenty minutes ago. If he continues to do so, you’re sure to soak the stool you’re sitting on.

You’ve never been stared at in such a way before––so brazenly and intimately. Though the lust is hidden beneath the surface of his charcoal eyes, you can tell that this isn’t all that is there. You’re used to being lusted after, but this feels different. More…romantic.

And all just from one look! You know you’re probably looking too deep into it though. After all, you haven’t even spoken to the man. But fuck, do you want to, ever since you caught a glimpse of him when you stepped into the resort’s nightclub twenty minutes before with your two friends and vacay buddies.

The man is the definition of “fine”.

Though he was sitting down when you first saw him, you’d place him at a good height over yours. He is all lean muscle, but not overly so, all of which you can see straining against his black polo shirt that he leaves unbuttoned to expose the sliver of chest and a gold chain underneath. His arms, which you’d love to feel wrapped around you, are roped in tattoos, his fingers adorned in rings and his wrist encased in a Rolex watch. The man must got money.

He sits back in his seat now, his shot of rum in his lap and his thighs open wide as if not aware that every woman (or man) could be staring at his crotch in those tight-ass jeans.

You’d never thought you’d ever see a man make a mullet look good either. He rocks it perfectly, several strands of black hair hanging in his alluring eyes that continue to stare you down, making you feel hot all over. His eyes sparkle just as his lip ring and silver hoops along his ears do, his long lashes making you think of a doll’s. He’s so, so beautiful.

You don’t know what he does, but judging by the watch and the Nike Air Forces on his feet, you’d guess he could be a singer. Maybe a business owner or CEO of some company? Maybe even a model? Regardless, he could have any woman in here just with one look and a smile. Why is he so entranced with you? What is it with you that he wants?

“Girl, you’ve been staring right back at him,” Mina chuckles from beside you. “If don’t hop on that man, I will ‘cause he’s fine.”

You side-eye her from your spot between her and Uraraka, watching her sip on her second cocktail of the night in her little pink mini-dress. “Why don’t you just go over and talk to him like a normal person?” she snickers.

You turn away from her and the beautiful stranger, staring down at your half-drunk Mojito. “You know I don’t make the first move,” you sigh. “I don’t even know how. Plus, I didn’t come here for a man. I came here to relax and find some confidence in myself.”

“That’s what a hot guy like him is for!” Mina argues, nodding at the stranger. Though you’re sure he has looked away from you by now, your body still burns as if he is still watching you, waiting for you. “No,” you protest. “That’s what the beach, the spa, and endless drinks are for. I’m not here for sex after the last time a hookup went wrong–which was only a month ago.”

You huff, stirring your drink around before sipping on it to calm your nerves and push those memories away. You came here to get away from all of that, after all. A month ago was the last straw when it came to dating and hooking up, especially with men online. You had been on Match for months but always seemed to run into men who either had a fetish for plus-sized women, and only that, or ghosted you as soon as they saw you outside of your pretty profile picture.

The last hookup you had seemed to break your spirit completely. You and the guy had been talking for a couple of weeks before he asked you out for dinner. Though you were excited, you felt that nabbing feeling in your gut that something would go wrong the moment he saw you in your dress, all of your rolls and jiggly parts on display.

But surprisingly, when you met with him at the restaurant, his smile didn’t even falter. He hugged you and kissed your cheek as if nothing was wrong. You even started to believe that this would be fine...until it wasn’t.

Until you invited him back to your apartment after one too many glasses of wine and got him out of his clothes. Until he stripped you, spread your legs wide eagle, and attempted to go down on you but didn’t. “I can’t do this,” he had sighed, already moving to grab his shit to hastily put back on. “Look, you’re pretty and all, and I thought I could handle you, but I can’t. You’re just too…big.”

To say you were hurt was an understatement. You said nothing to him as he profusely apologized; said it wasn’t your fault but just his preference; that he knew you’d find someone that would be attracted to you. If only he knew that this hasn’t been the case in years. If only he knew that most men only saw you as an object of their fetish and kinks; not their affection.

You weren’t asking for the fucking moon here. Just some love and affection. Just some intimacy. Just some good ol’ big dick. But you always seemed to lack in those departments because of your shape and size. There are times you wished you looked like your friends–so small and socially acceptable with their flat stomachs and breasts that didn’t sag. They could wear tight-skin dresses and crop tops without getting ridiculed or laughed at. You couldn’t.

This is why you took the offer for this trip to the beach resort on the coast of [Insert Country Name Here]. It was a short five-day trip that Mina and Uraraka had been planning to get away from your home in the US for a while and escape the sweltering heat.

When they offered you a spot and a ticket, you took that shit. You knew that this was your chance to finally gain the confidence you were missing and get away from the problems and men your city brought for a while. So far, it’s been working. Ever since you flew in this morning, you’ve been wearing all the bikinis and sundresses you want without getting side-eyed or gawked at. It feels damn good! But getting eyed down by that stranger feels even better.

“He was just a porn-addicted asshole,” Uraraka huffs, crossing her toned legs over each other in her pretty, flowery sundress. “He wasn’t worth your time. As much as I understand your reluctance, Y/N, you’re not behind a screen this time. You’re sitting here, looking sexy as fuck in your mini skirt, and he’s eyeing you down like he wants all of you.”

“She is right, babes,” Mina agrees. “The way that guy is staring at you is making me kinda jealous.” She smiles at the way you bashfully advert your eyes to stare down at your outfit. They forced you to put on the shimmery mini skirt that hugs your ass and the low-cut top that exposes your cleavage for tonight’s activities.

“What’s the point of being on vacation if you don’t indulge in hookups with hot people?” she giggles, sipping suggestively on her straw. You raise your brows at her, more than happy to correct her. “Vacations may be about that for you two, but I’m more about sleeping till the afternoon, lounging by the beach, and drinking my bottomless mimosas.”

Though the sexy stranger makes you think differently, you know that you’re never going to find the courage to get up and talk to him, no matter how much you drank or how sexy your friends said you looked. You wanted to get away from hookup culture and just find confidence on your own without looking for it in sex with a nice-looking guy. You just want to relax! But Mina and Uraraka aren't taking no for an answer.

Mina downs the rest of her drink before staring at you pointedly. “And that’s about to change tonight.” You gawk at her, laughing in disbelief at her stubbornness. “It’s only the first day!” you laugh.

“Exactly!” she agrees. “And we’ve got about five days left here at this resort. You know time flies extra fast while on vacation, girl.” She winks at you, encouraging you to go through with catching a body for the night. But you hum disapprovingly to yourself, stirring your straw around in your glass. “I don’t know, girls,” you sigh. “It just doesn’t seem right to use a guy just to boost my confidence and have a good time.”

Mina dramatically scoffs, rolling her golden eyes. “Please! You’ve got men in here who would gladly give their left lung to do all of that for you and more. Probably even that hottie with the mullet.” Though her words are encouraging, you still feel that roil of fear and uncertainty in your gut. What if he refuses you? What if he says yes but then changes his mind once he gets a look at you under your clothes?

Uraraka’s soft hand on your knee pulls you out of your head. “How can you know if you don’t at least try, Y/N?” she soothingly asks. “You deserve to have a good time, including getting some great sex if that’s what you want. And from the way you’ve been staring back at that stranger, we can tell it’s exactly what you want. So go on and get him!”

Mina places a hand on your shoulder, the smell of her fruity perfume overtaking your senses. “What happens on vacation stays on vacation,” she giggles.

And you realize that they’re absolutely right. You can never know what will happen if you don’t at least try. Plus, even if it goes wrong, there are plenty of other men at this resort you can try to snag, even if for the night or the remainder of this trip. You came here to not only relax, but to find confidence and let loose. Maybe you can do all of that in one night with a hot stranger with no strings attached.

“Maybe you’re right,” you say, suddenly feeling a boost of confidence in your body. “Lemme just finish this first.” You reach for your Mojito and down it, already feeling the effects of the alcohol in your body. You feel warm and tingly; sexy and powerful like you could take over the whole world. You’ve got this. You’re a sexy ass bitch.

Uraraka cheers you on when you slide out of your stool, pulling down your skirt over your stomach and thick, jiggly thighs as you do. “Go get him, girly!” Mina shouts encouragingly. “Let us know if you need us to push him into the pool.”

You giggle, feeling nervous yet excited. You can’t believe you’re really coming out of your comfort zone like this. But as you turn in the direction of the sexy stranger, you find his seat open and him gone. “Oh,” you breathe, disappointment blooming within you. “He’s gone.” Mina and Uraraka look around in disbelief. “Where’d he go?”

Uraraka huffs, her bob as she turns her head from side to side searching for the mystery man. “He was just right there!” Mina puts a comforting hand on your arm. “Well, don’t fret, babes. There are plenty of other fine-ass men in here who would gladly give you their undivided attention.” She begins to look around, squinting into the flashing lights on the dance floor despite your disinterest. “Let’s see…what about–“

“Excuse me,” someone says from behind you. You turn, finding the bartender holding another delicious-looking Mojito. “This is for you, miss. It was already paid for.” You and the girls stare at the drink in shock and suspicion. “Already paid for?” you parrot, baffled. “By who?”

“Well, it was supposed to be by your secret admirer, but I think I fucked that up comin’ over here.” A light chuckle leaves the lips of a man you already know is fine judging by his voice–it’s raspy and laced with a slight accent you can’t quite decipher; very pleasant to the ear. A real panty dropper.

When you and your friends turn, you swear to nearly drop dead right there in the club. There, standing behind you with a smile playing on his pierced, plump lips, is the hot stranger from across the room. And he’s even sexier up close! From this angle, you can see the ink on his chest peeking from out of his collar and how clean his nails are. Not to mention his scent––so sweet yet musky. It’s intoxicating. You and the girls stand there like idiots, silently drinking in the fine-ass stranger. “Oh, shit, he’s even finer up close,” Mina whispers to Uraraka, earning a shush in response.

The man smiles, two dimples popping on his cheeks. You love dimples. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he sheepishly says, and you catch a glint of something shiny in his mouth. A tongue piercing. ‘Oh, fuck me,’ you think. This man is trouble.

“I’m sorry if I am, but I couldn’t help myself. You just look too good tonight.” His charcoal eyes are planted firmly on you though you see them falter to trail down your form. You have to hold onto the stool behind you to avoid falling out. Your knees suddenly feel too weak to hold you up. “I thought the drink would’ve been a good icebreaker, but maybe that was kinda douchey,” he wonder aloud, rubbing the back of his neck. His bicep bulges as he does so, making you picture yourself running your fingers over it.

“U-Uh…” You desperately try to find the words to speak, not wanting to come off as a weirdo. But your mind is completely blank, all except for some naughty images of this man’s hands on you and his cock buried deep inside of you as he bends you over the bar. “No,” you reply, finding the words to finally speak. “It was sweet of you. Thank you…for the compliment too, not just the drink.” You cringe at yourself, realizing you’re babbling.

The stranger laughs lightly, the sound like sex to you. “I’m Sero,” he says in his sexy, raspy voice. “Sero Hanta.” He sticks his hand out for yours and you take it. As soon as your hands make contact, you feel an electric current soar through you as if you’re being shocked from the inside. His hand is big and calloused as if he’s been using them for years. You’re not sure if he feels the same zing that courses through you, but his eyes do trail to your mouth.

“I’m Y/N,” you timidly reply as your hands drop. “L/N. These are my friends; we’re on vacation.” You turn to your friends that you find leaving their posts, guilty smiles on their faces. “And we were just leaving,” Mina replies. “We’re just gonna go on the dance floor. Text us if you need anything!”

“Very nice to meet you!” Uraraka shouts with a wave before she and Mina hurry to the dance floor.

“Wait!” You hiss, but they’re already moving out of earshot. You watch them skid off to the dance floor with the sharpest glare you've ever given a person. If looks could kill, they would be dead. Now it’s just you and Sero the Sexy Stranger.

Though you’re not exactly alone, you may as well be the only two people standing in the room with how awkward and tense the air feels. Sero isn’t immune to it either. He stands rather rigidly, his arms behind his back and his eyes looking anywhere but at you in fear of making you feel uncomfortable. Knowing you can’t stand here all night, you clear your throat and pat the stool next to you. “Uh…did you wanna sit?” Sero shrugs, a sheepish smile on his face. “If you’re cool with it.”

You nod and slide into your own seat while he hops up next to you. “So you said you ladies are here on vacation?” he asks, giving you a friendly, warm smile that eases your nerves. You nod, lacing your fingers together to give them something to do. “Yeah, for five more days. We just flew in this morning all the way from the US.”

Sero’s charcoal eyes widen in shock. “The United States?” he gasps, making you giggle. “Shit, that’s a long way. Where are you from?”

You tell him, including the state. You may as well also tell him the capital and the population of your city with how much you’re babbling, but it’s hard to keep calm in the presence of such a sexy, sweet-smelling man. Sero is full of questions, his curiosity adorable. “What’s it like there? Is the food good? I heard they’ve got the best tour sights too!”

You tell him everything, from the food to the museums to the entertainment there for tourists along with the weather, your neighborhood, and how you’ve been living there ever since you were young. “I met my friends back during college,” you explain as you sip on the Mojito that Sero bought you. “We decided to take this trip to get out of the city for a while.” Sero nods, his attention firmly on you and only you. It makes you blush and you thank God that He made you a Black woman.

“Well, you ladies picked the best place for a vacay. I’ve been coming here for years ‘cause I’ve got family down here.” He waves a hand, flagging down the bartender. “Are you from here?” you curiously ask.

He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Nah; I was born in Musutafu, a city in Japan. My mother is Latina but my father is Japanese.” Your interest in him piques here as you have a big soft spot for mixed men. “So are you bilingual?” you giggle. “That’s pretty cool. I’ve been trying to learn Japanese forever ever since I started watching anime.”

Sero turns to face you, one muscled arm slung across the bar. “You’re an anime fan, huh?” he asks, interest and the flashing strobe lights in his black eyes which you now realize aren't charcoal at all––they’re a very dark brown, almost like dark chocolate. “What’s your favorite? And if you say Naruto, I’m leaving.”

“What’s wrong with Naruto?” you laugh, gaping at him.

“Everyone says Naruto!” he complains, rolling his eyes dramatically. “If not DBZ! Those are the two anime shows that reached the mainstream and everyone knows about.” You decide to leave your obsession with Naruto in middle school on the back burner for now.

“Well, I’ll give you my top five,” you giggle. You give him each one, most of them being very underrated and less popular than other anime. Sero looks impressed when you finish. “Daaamn, girl!” he praises. “You’ve got taste! I didn’t think anyone knew about your fifth pick. It’s more of an underrated one.” You nod, agreeing. “Yeah, but I’m into mystery. The twists and turns make each episode so fun to watch.”

He nods in agreement, a strange smile on his face. Though it doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable, it also feels…weird. You’re not used to being smiled at in such a way, like what you’re saying is so interesting and intriguing. You turn away to sip your drink, hoping more alcohol will make you feel less weird and take you out of your head.

The bartender suddenly returns to your side with a tray of multi-colored shot glasses and tiny bowls of salt, lemon, and lime on the side. “Here you are, Mr. Hanta,” he says. "On the house.” Sero gives him a look as he lowers the tray in front of him. “I keep tellin’ you to just call me Sero,” he sighs, pulling out a twenty to tip the bartender. “I ain’t my dad.”

When the bartender scurries off with the bill, Sero fills you in on why he got the order of rounds: “They give me free shit every time I come in here but I still tip ‘em well. Probably because I know the owner. He’s a good friend of my dad’s.” He takes one of the shot glasses and downs the contents inside with ease, not even sucking on a lemon or lime slice as a chaser. You don’t realize that you’re staring at him until he raises a questionable brow at you. “Want one?” he asks. Flushing with embarrassment, you shake your head. “You sure? They’re rum shots. Some are just plain, some are apple, and some are coconut.”

Your eyes flick from him to the shots, slowly becoming seduced by the different flavors and the idea of letting even looser. “Just one,” you say, giving in to defeat.

Sero passes you a shot before picking up another one of his own, giving you a white-toothed smile. “To an amazing vacation,” he says, raising his shot. You do the same and clink your glass with his before downing your rum at the same time he does. Though you taste the hint of apple, the rum is incredibly strong and nearly burns your tonsils. You gag as he goes down, making Sero laugh behind his hand. “Don’t laugh!” you pout. “This shit is stronger than the stuff you find in the US.”

Sero snickers as you take a lemon slice and vigorously suck on it, chasing away the strong taste of the rum. “Yeah, I bet,” he chuckles, nodding at the shots. “This is straight rum, mama. Definitely not to be played with. Lemme order you some water.”

He leans over the bar, raising his muscular arm, and you don’t know if it’s you or the alcohol starting to speak, but his arm looks very appealing to you right now. You picture wrapped around your waist or your tummy, maybe on your side while his cock is plunging in and out of the wet, gummy walls of your pussy over and over again, his sweet, raspy voice whispering in your ear.

You blink, alarmed. ‘Where the fuck did that come from?’ you think. The alcohol is definitely talking now. You have to try to act as normal as possible and not like you’re a horny mess when the bartender returns with a glass of cool water.

But you don't touch the water. Instead, you go for another shot, determination flooding within you that is only conjured by the alcohol. “You wanna try again?” Sero snickers. “Be my guest. It always goes down better the second time around. Don’t drink it too fast, now.” He keeps his intense eyes on you as you down your next shot. He’s right: it does go down a lot easier. While you feel the burn as he slides down your throat, it settles into your tummy nicely, making you feel warm and tingly.

Sero downs his third shot of the night, as do you. Soon, the room is starting to get hotter and seems a little fuzzier than before. The music is sharper, Sero seems a lot sexier, and you’re having trouble focusing. You know that you are only another shot away from drunk, so you decide to take a couple of sips of your water. Unfortunately, your being tipsy means that you have zero filter. “Uh…so what do you do?” you randomly ask Sero. “Like, for work?”

Sero stares at you, perplexed, his pink, pierced lips wrapped around a straw to his glass of water. You flush with embarrassment and go to apologize for being too personal, but his smile eases your nerves. “Relax,” he chuckles. “It ain’t like you asked me what my social security is.” You return the smile, becoming accustomed to his humor and laid-back attitude. “I’m a house renovator, so I fix up houses for people to rent, buy, or put on the market. I’ve got my own business back in Japan. I’m also a dance instructor on the side.”

Your ears perk at his hustle. So he’s got money and he can dance? “So you’re extremely talented, basically.” It could be the trick of the lights, but you think you see Sero’s cheeks grow pink. “I try. What about you?” You tell him your job along with what you do all day while working at it five days a week. His handsome face scrunches in pain. “That’s a great job, but it sounds time-consuming. You ever get bored or have time for yourself?”

You discard your water and sip on the rest of your Mojito, nearly forgetting it was there. “Time for myself is what the weekends are for,” you joke. “But in all seriousness, some of the time I get tired of it. That’s why my friends and I booked this trip as a way to relax and boost my confidence.”

Your eyes widen when you realize what you just said. 'Fuck!’ you think, panicking. Goddamn, the alcohol! Why does it have to make your tongue so loose and you so dumb?

Sero’s eyes flash with interest. “Boost your confidence?” he asks, quirking a brow at you that makes him look increasingly hotter. “How so?” He leans in as if to kiss you, a secretive smile curling onto his lips. You avert your eyes, hoping he doesn’t see the fear in them. You hope he doesn’t push this. You couldn’t bear the thought of telling a stranger all about your problems with your body and dating.

“I’m kidding,” he finally says, probably noticing your change in demeanor. “You don’t have to tell me, but you could’ve fooled me ‘cause the outfit is certainly doin’ its job.” His eyes trail across your form in your outfit, making your body feel like it just got stuck in an oven. “Does that confidence-boosting also include dancing like your friends are?” he asks, nodding at the dance floor. There, you see Mina and Uraraka on the floor, twirling their hips and sipping on their drinks, carefree and beautiful.

You don’t think you could be that carefree with so many eyes on you. It’s different in the comfort of your own home, but here? It’s just too harrowing of an idea. “I-I don’t dance,” you timidly admit to Sero. “Not ‘cause I can’t, but I just…don’t.”

Sero scowls confusedly at you, his brows furrowing. “Why?” he asks, sounding absolutely baffled. “When the music is this good, it’s just too good to not move! You know how to salsa? Or bachata?” You stare at him, gobsmacked. This man can really move like that? “You teach all of that?” you ask, suddenly even hotter knowing this. You can only imagine how his hips can move in bed.

Sero smirks proudly. “Damn right,” he chuckles. “And I’m gonna teach you. You’ve got the best in the business, baby.” He takes his hand in yours and helps you down off of your stool. But before he can lead to you the dance floor, you pull him back. “Wait!” you protest. He peers over his shoulder at you and you feel your stomach flutter with butterflies. “I-I don’t know if I’ve got dancing shoes.”

The sexy stranger turns around to face you, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “Really?” he asks. “That’s the best you’ve got?” You stare down at your shoes, even more apprehensive. It’s bad enough that you’re afraid of how you’ll look, but you’ve never had a man ask you to dance with him on the floor before. You’ve never had a man pursue you in such a way. You’re not sure how to handle it or what you’re even doing.

You’re aware of Sero getting closer to you until all you see is his chest in your face. He leans down to whisper in your ear, his cologne fogging your senses and self-control. “If you’re worried about what you look like, don’t. You’ve got people in here who dance worse and if you step on my toes, I’ll just act like it didn’t happen.”

At this, you smile though hesitantly. “There’s that smile,” he coos, interlacing his fingers with yours. “C’mon, before the song ends.”

The song playing now is one you recognize from TikTok from the Spanish guitars and Latin beat pumping through the speakers that you’d roll your hips into a mirror to. The strobe lights have now brightened to a seductive red that makes the dance floor look like it’s on fire. Sero leads you to a space on the dance floor between the grinding club-goers and stands in front of you, his height blocking the others dancing behind him.

You rigidly stand with his hand in yours a good distance away from him. You can already feel yourself wanting to run. The confidence that the alcohol provided you is starting to fade. All you want to do now is go back to your hotel room and go to sleep. ‘No,’ you think stubbornly. ‘You’re not doing that. You came here to find confidence and this man is trying to help you with that.’

Sero smirks jokingly at you. Unaware to you, he thinks your shyness is the cutest thing in the world. He’d fuck you right here in front of the whole club if he could. “You’ve gotta stand a little closer than that,” he chuckles. With some hesitation, you move an inch closer to him, barely toe to toe with him.

“Closer,” he teasingly repeats. Maybe it's the guitars in the song or the intensity of his gaze on you, but you find yourself moving closer to him like a moth being beckoned by a flame. Suddenly, you’re close enough to kiss him, your nose nearly brushing his chest.

“Perfecto,” he whispers, and it has your heart racing like it’s trying to win a track race. “Now you put one hand on my shoulder.” Keeping one of your hands interlocked with his, you raise your free hand and place it on his broad shoulder.

Then his hands are on your hips, secure and…nice. This feels nice. “Is it okay if I hold you like this?” he asks, his lips at your ear. You can barely speak––your throat is dry and your mind has gone completely blank. “Give me your words, mami,” he demands though not aggressively. The pet name, along with his accent curling around the almost-forbidden word, has you blushing profusely and thanking the Lord that He made you a Black woman.

Sero tenses as soon as the word flies, pulling away to apologize face to face. “Sorry,” he says embarrassingly, a blush coating his cheeks. “No,” you protest, shaking your head. “I-I like it. And it’s fine…you holding me like this, that is.” A beaming smile crosses his lips; one that makes you smile too and seems to ease the awkwardness of the situation.

“Now just follow me,” he instructs you. “When my foot goes back, yours goes forward, like this.” He puts one foot back and you timidly bring yours forward. “Now vice versa,” he says before bringing his foot back to the front. You pick up on things quickly and press your foot back. “Good!” he praises you. “Now let’s try it with the music. It goes 1, 2, 3…1, 2, 3…just like the beat. Listen to the beat.”

You do as he says and listen to the music, trying to match your foot movement with the rhythm. Sero is a natural at this, as he should be since it’s his side hustle. He moves like he is the damn music, his body turning into water. His moves are loose and languid but not out-of-beat or uncontrolled. His back is straight, his shoulders are squared, and his hips? They roll like fucking waves.

You find yourself wanting to touch them; roll your tongue against them and the washboard abs you know are just up under his shirt. He never lets you go as you attempt to copy his moves and his confidence. And yes, you step on his feet a few times, but he never loses that patient, kind smile. Soon, you start to feel more comfortable and your moves grow looser than before.

Sero feels your body relax and his eyes gleam with excitement. “There we go!” he laughs. “And you said you were worried about havin’ the wrong shoes. You’re a natural at this.” He twirls you twice, making you giddy and dizzy with joy. You are hot and sweaty, and your makeup has probably seen better days, but you don’t care. You feel good, all because of the man you're dancing with tonight.

Suddenly, a newfound confidence blooms inside of you that could either be from the alcohol or from the closeness of this fine-ass man. One that has your hand moving from his shoulder to his chest, just briefly caressing it. “I guess it helps to have a good teacher,” you say in a tone that you’ve never heard come out of your mouth before. It is low and sensual.

Sero notices it immediately. His kind smile turns into one that is more secretive like he is hiding something you don’t know about. He twirls you once more, causing your braids to fly around you and a laugh to burst from your mouth. Then he’s yanking you to him, emitting a surprised gasp from your lips when you find yourself chest-to-chest with him. One of his big hands moves to caress your lower back while the other still holds yours. He stares deep into your eyes as he begins to move his hips against yours, rolling and grinding his body into your own.

Suddenly, like a cliche romance trope, everyone disappears and all that is left are you and him. You only see him. You only know him. From somewhere on the floor, Mina and Uraraka shriek, hyping you up. “Yaaaasss, Y/N!” Mina screeches, much louder than Uraraka and the music. “Get it, girl!”

Before you even realize it, you’re grinding right back onto him, rolling your hips into his. He twirls you around once more, but doesn’t allow you to face him again. Instead, he presses his front against your back and grinds against you from there. His hands grip your hips, coaxing you to wind your ass back into him. You get lost in the music and in him, feeling safe in his arms despite only knowing him for an hour or so.

“You’ve got it,” he laughs into your ear, making your inner thighs tingle. “You were so scared to do this, and now look at you. I bet every man in here is jealous that I get to be the one to dance with such a pretty thing like you.”

Those words are what do it for you, and before you even realize it, you're looping your arms around his neck to bring him closer and turning your face to kiss him. It is a quick kiss, but it’s enough to have your heart hammering even faster and your stomach twirling. When you pull away, Sero's eyes are wide, a shocked expression on his face.

You immediately jump away and cover your mouth, horrified. “I’m so sorry!” you immediately apologize. “I-I don’t know why I…” You trail off, suddenly feeling disgusting and awful. Your confidence is gone and the effects of the alcohol are waning. "I should go,” you whisper, on the verge of tears.

But as you turn to storm off the dance floor, Sero stops you by grabbing your wrist. “No,” he says, a silent plea in his eyes. “Don’t go.”

Before you can even process what’s happening, one of his arms is looping around your waist while his hand gently cups your cheek. His lips are then on yours, planting one of the softest, hottest kisses you’ve ever had on you. His lips are smooth and soft, his piercings tickling your bottom lip. Your lips dance against his until you give a soft moan of longing as your arms move to wrap around him, hugging him close. Your parted lips allow him to slip his tongue into your mouth, the taste of rum and mint there as his tongue gently swirls with yours. You hold each other, kissing among the sea of people. Once again, you feel as if there is no one but you, him, and the throbbing of the music above.

Unfortunately, the moment is interrupted when the club-goers surrounding you begin to annoyingly scream and whoop over you and Sero. “Oh, shit, they 'bout to fuck on the floor!” someone obnoxiously screams over the music.

Sero pulls away from you, eyeing the faceless voice. “Let me join!” another shouts.

“Fuck off!” Mina yells from somewhere behind you. “Leave them alone!” You’ve never been so thankful for your friends than at this moment.

Sero smirks down at you, arms still around your waist. “We’ve got ourselves an audience,” he whispers. “Not that I mind some eyes, but I’m more interested in getting you somewhere more…private.”

His accent makes the word sound like sex to you. Even if that isn’t on the table, you’ll still go anywhere with him. “Where’d you have in mind?” you breathlessly ask.

He trails his fingers from your waist up your arms to lace through your fingers. “Well, if you want the bedroom now, I’m down for that,” he says, making your pussy quiver excitedly beneath your skirt, “but there’s also a cabana on the beach that’s screaming my name right now if you wanted a good view and some quiet.”

‘Yes!’ your body screams. ‘Do it, bitch!’ But even you know that you can’t give it up to him that fast. All good things come to those who wait, after all. “I’d love that,” you shyly answer. “Can we finish the shots first though?”

You nod at the bar to which Sero chuckles, raising a brow at you. “If you’re dying to get beat by me at my own game, then sure.”

*********

The sea is by far the most especially thing you’ve ever seen. It looks even better while drunk.

After downing two more shots and guzzling down water (and taking a trip to the bathroom beforehand), Sero swoops you away to the seashore right outside the resort where the ocean stretches out for your eyes to behold under the big, white moon that looks so much bigger in the sky tonight. It hovers over the water, making the waves crystalize like diamonds below, just as the stars in the ink-black sky do.

“Oh, wow,” you gasp, in awe at the beauty laid before you. “This is beautiful! Look at the moon and the stars!”

You stand at the top of the sandy shore, pointing at the sky with your heels in your hands. The sea breeze wafts your hair and cools the sweat on your body from the club. You feel good away from the people and activity now, the serenity that the beach provides is too nice to put off.

Sero is settled down beside you in one of the many cabanas lined up on the beach that are currently empty. He sits on the bed there with his shoes off and an almost-dazed look on his face as he stares at the ocean. “Look at the stars,” he softly sings. “Look how they shine for you…” His cheeks turn red as he stares up at you sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m a little drunk.”

“Me too,” you giggle. “I need to sit down.” You put a hand to your head, feeling light and slightly dizzy from the alcohol. Sero pats the empty seat next to him, smiling up at you. “Feel free, mama. This cabana is open for two.” You flush with heat despite the coolness of the salty, sea breeze as you sit beside him, feeling flustered at being so close to him. Now you don’t have the shots or the music as buffers. There is nothing but the sea and the empty beach.

However, the silence isn’t awkward––it’s rather peaceful and serene. You dig your toes into the sand while Sero hums to himself, digging into his pocket. He then pulls out a ziplock bag of a few pre-rolled blunts and a lighter. “Mind if I smoke?” he asks, pausing to look at you for an answer. You shake your head, giving him the green light to do his thing. You watch as he works, entranced by his veiny hands as he takes out a blunt and ignites the lighter to lit the tip of it.

You wish his hands were working you instead.

Still entranced by him, you watch as he wraps his lips around the blunt and takes a short tester puff before putting the lighter away. He takes a deep inhale before exhaling all of the smoke out of his mouth, a peaceful look on his face. “I love doing this on the beach,” he contently sighs. “Nothing like a view of the stars and saltwater breeze while you puff on a blunt.” He gazes at you out of the corner of his eye. “And sitting with a pretty woman.”

“Whatever,” you tsk, gently smacking his thigh to hide the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “You’re just sayin’ that to make me feel good.” He takes another hit of his blunt, though short. “Well, yeah,” he admits, "but also ‘cause it’s true. You are pretty. Did you see the way the security guard was checkin’ you out when we left?”

You retrace your mental steps to try to remember, but come up short. “Uh…no,” you respond, not sure if you believe him. He laughs at this, smoke billowing from his mouth. “Exactly, ‘cause you were oblivious to it, but not me. You had eyes on you like bees on honey.” He then holds the blunt between his thumb and forefinger out to you. “Want a hit? You smoke?” You look down at the blunt, slightly intimidated. Then, for some reason, the thrill of trying something new floods you. “Not really,” you admit. "But there’s a first time for everything.”

You take the blunt between your thumb and forefinger before trying to imitate Sero’s actions. You wrap your lips around the end of the blunt and inhale only to nearly hack up a lung when the smoke invades your lungs. Sero laughs at you while patting you on the back, helping you out. “Take it easy, mama,” he chuckles. “Second time’s the charm as I say. Do it slower.”

You do as he says and inhale the smoke much slower than before. It goes down easier the second time and you’re even able to hold it in your lungs for longer before exhaling. “Theeeere we go,” Sero praises with a laugh. “I love a girl who doesn’t quit.”

He lets you puff on the blunt for a few minutes longer, gazing out at the starry sky and sea. He then glances at you, an unreadable expression on his face. “Please tell me if this is too personal, but I’m curious about you coming here to boost your confidence. I’d think a woman as beautiful as you are would have plenty of confidence in herself.”

You can already feel the weed beginning to work its magic. You feel relaxed and kind of sleepy, but not enough to pass out. All of the insecurities and uncertainty you felt before have washed away. You pass Sero the blunt and sit back on your hands, exposing your jiggly tummy a little more. “Well, the reason I’m here is after a hookup gone wrong where this dude told me I was too fat and left in the middle of sex with me. I was gutted by it, so when my girls told me about their trip, I took that chance and came here.”

You inhale the sea breeze and exhale solemnly, catching Sero’s attention…not that you didn’t have it already. “Finding love when you look like me,” you confess, running a hand over your body. “Like the dating pool isn’t built for girls like me. I’ve tried dating so many times, online manly, but as soon as a guy gets a view of me from the waist down, they want nothing to do with me. If I’m not seen as some extra pushin’ for the cushion, I’m not seen at all.”

You’re aware that you’re oversharing, but the alcohol, weed, and Sero’s warm personality have all made it where you’re like an open book now. “Not that I mind being perceived sexually,” you reiterate, “but I feel like that’s all guys see when they look at me. I’m a fetish; not a woman who is worthy of affection as well as desire. I deserve better, y’know? I’ve got a good job, a car, an apartment, a pretty face…like everything I have should be worthy to get me a good partner, right? But it’s not. All because of…of…this.”

You grip the jiggly fat of your stomach, huffing frustratedly to yourself. “I don’t hate being in my body, but society does.” Instantly, like a slap in the face, you realize you’ve fucked up. “Sorry!” you immediately gasp. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I said way too much.”

Sero is staring at you like he just realized you’re a person and you feel even worse. “Look, I don’t mean to pile this all on you, but you’re so easy to talk to and this weed is gettin’ to me and–“ You abruptly stop when Sero suddenly stands. He takes another puff on his blunt before dropping it into the sand and stubbing it out with his foot.

He then proceeds to kick off his shoes and socks, strip himself of his shirt to reveal his beautiful body, and reach for his belt to loosen his pants. When his pants fall, you can’t help but admire how good he looks in his briefs. You stare at him, confused, hot, and bothered by the gorgeous view. “What are you doing?” you softly ask.

“Let’s take a dip,” he says huskily. You stare at him, dumbfounded. Is he serious, drunk, or just high as a kite? “But…I don’t have a bathing suit.” Sero raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Who said anything about that?” Now you know that this man is gone. There’s no way he is seriously considering skinny-dipping…and there’s no way that you’re actually thinking about it! He must see you fighting with yourself because he runs a comforting, soft hand down your arm, his touch making you shiver. “I’d like to see you,” he murmurs, “if that’s okay.”

You search his face to see if he’s joking or daring you only to laugh at you when you do so, but you find no indication that he’s playing with you. There is a molten tenderness in his gaze that has you shivering in pleasure and anticipation, wondering what else he has in store for you.

So you strip. You start with your top and then your skirt, biting your lip at his sharp intake of breath at the sight of your underwear. Then you’re stripping off your bra, letting your full breasts fall from the cups and against your stomach. Sero’s eyes widen at the sight of you as if you are a piece of art he is admiring in a museum. “Hermosa (beautiful),” he whispers, completely in awe at your body.

You’ve taken enough Spanish in school to know what this word means and it lights your body on fire. He then offers his hand which you take, giggling when he pulls you along to the ocean. “Come on,” he laughs. “Vamos, before the water gets too cold!”

You want to ask him what the fuck he means because the water is like you stepped into the damn Arctic Ocean when your semi-naked body finally makes contact with it. You gasp as the water shocks your body out of its tired state from the alcohol and weed. Sero keeps his hand in yours despite the crashing waves that roll against your bodies the further you wad into the ocean. Finally, you two settle and just let the water caress you. You sigh in contentment as you tip your head up towards the sky, admiring the stars twinkling above.

“Nice, right?” Sero chuckles. You lazily nod, wanting to stay here forever––among the water, stars, and him. You don’t realize how close he’s gotten to you until you’re suddenly staring at his upper torso and the water beads that drip down his abs. “Can I hold you?” he gently asks. You peer up at him through your lashes, afraid to speak in fear of ruining the moment.

You nod and he slowly wraps his arms around you, engulfing you in them. You let yourself be pulled into him, sighing when your head meets the crook of his shoulder. You embrace him back, crushing your breasts against his hard chest. There, you two stay, bobbing in the water, linked with one another. “This feels so nice,” you drunkenly confess. “Like a fairytale.”

“I’d hope so,” he murmurs to you. “You deserve it, mami.” And you start to believe it. After a few silent seconds, he pulls away from you, his eyes as dark as the night sky. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, his gaze hopeful. “I know I didn’t ask in the club and I feel bad about that, so I wanted to ask you now and–“

You don’t hear the rest of what he has to say because you’re too busy planting your lips on his. This kiss is hungrier now. Your lips move against each other’s like you both are starving for one another. You can tell Sero wants the same thing you want when his hands move below your waist to squeeze your ass, the feeling making you moan into his mouth. He replies with his own moan and pulls away, his eyes glazed over with lust.

He wordlessly kneels before you in the water and takes both of your breasts into his hands, kneading them gently. “Shit,” he softly hisses to himself, amazed at the sight of your hanging fruit and brown, hardened nipples.

You softly whimper at his calloused hands caressing your sensitive breasts causing him to move on to other matters. He leans in and latches his lips onto one of your nipples where he begins to suckle on it. You throw your head back to stare at the endless sky, your mouth open in an O as pleasured moans fall from your lips. You can’t yourself, especially when Sero begins to suckle and flick his tongue along the sensitive bud of your nipple, his hand kneading your other breast in the process.

Then he switches, giving your other breast the same treatment. Your hands find his hair, your fingers aimlessly wandering through the black locks of his hair. You’re ruining his mullet, but he doesn’t seem to care. He is more concerned with nibbling along your nipple, making you sharply inhale before your voice chokes on a broken moan.

You can’t take this. All of this is going straight to your pussy which is now throbbing and begging for attention between your thick inner thighs. “Please, Sero!” you whine, gripping his hair. “I need you to touch me.” Understanding immediately, Sero stares up at you, looking uncertain. He then stands, his body dripping in water, making your pussy throb even more at the sight of his glistening muscles. “You sure you want this?” he asks, his voice low and hushed.

You practically throw yourself at him, giving him a deep, passionate kiss that nearly takes his breath away. “Yes,” you plead. “Yes, Sero, please. I don’t care, just please touch me.”

You grapple for his shoulders, gripping them in desperation. You don't care how much you come off as desperate or slutty to be sleeping with a man you just met. You need this right now. And Sero is willing to give it all to you. “Okay, baby, okay,” he shushes you, pressing a chaste kiss to your waiting lips. “Let’s get us out of the water first.” He takes your hand and helps you navigate the waves as you make your way out of the water. Once you’re out and standing naked on the shore, you realize the gravity of what you just asked and initiated. Especially when Sero leads you to the cabana. Your eyes flit up to the resort yards away, realizing anyone could come out and see you two naked. “Will anyone see us?” you timidly ask.

“They may, they may not,” Sero replies, a devious smirk on his face. “If they do, they’re in for a treat watchin’ a gorgeous woman gettin’ her pussy eaten.” He then sits you down on the bed and kneels down in front of you. He gently pries your thighs open, revealing your sobbing, wet pussy. You watch his face change from playful to downright feral as he stares at your cunt. You flush at his expression, still feeling weird about this despite how hot and bothered you are. “But what if–“

He shushes you, leaning forward to press wet kisses along your inner thighs. “No more talkin’, mami,” he growls against your inner thighs. “I want my name on your lips if not those pretty moans I heard in the water earlier.” He continues to pepper your thighs in kisses while his hands pin your legs apart, his hold on you firm. He doesn’t want you hiding from him despite your cellulite and stretch marks, and rolls and imperfections. And it feels good.

You don’t stop him when he dives right into your pussy, first peppering your lips and clit in open-mouthed kisses as if he’s making out with them. You can’t believe the way this man works his mouth! Especially when he starts to flick his tongue along your clit. His tongue swirls around it and flicks it gently depending on how you respond. And shit, are you responding well! Your body can't help but react pleasantly to the sensations––your toes curl; your back arches; your eyes flutter closed; your mouth falls open into an O as moans and gasps fall from your lips.

Sero is not only good with his tongue, but also with his hands. He reaches up and plays with your titties, tweaking and pinching your nipples according to your verbal cues. “H-Harder, please!” you beg to which he pinches the hard, brown peaks a little harder, the bursts of pain making you gush all over his lips. “Fuck, Sero,” you moan. “That feels so good!”

Sero moans approvingly into your cunt, the vibrations making your clit quiver pleasurably. “Keep feelin’ good for me then, mami,” he says in between wet flicks of his tongue on your rosebud. “Lean back and wrap your thighs around my head. I can handle it.”

He pauses to stare up into your shocked eyes, a grin on his face and a pussy-drunk look in his eyes. You’ve never had anyone ask that of you before. Plus, your thighs really are on the thicker side. What if you suffocate him? Before you can even agree or refuse, he is already pushing you back onto the bed, emitting a squeal from you.

He stands on his knees for a moment, taking you in. His lust-blown eyes trail up and down your naked form, drinking in every part of you that you either like or dislike. Then he inhales deeply as if struggling to process the beauty in front of him. “Tu cuerpo es un país de las maravillas, mami (your body is a wonderland, mami),” he huskily says. You have no idea what to say to that. All you can do is shyly smile up at him as he smiles down at you, both of you enchanted with each other.

Then he’s ducking back down and throwing your thighs across his shoulders with ease, wrapping your legs around his head. This gives him better access to your pussy so he can easily tongue-fuck you. As soon as you feel the wet muscle entering your wet folds and his nose brush against your clit, you are in heaven. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and your hands find his hair, gripping the black locks as your hips begin to grind shamelessly into his face.

“Mmm-hmm,” he hums approvingly, keeping up the pace. He doesn’t pause or slow down. He continues to work your pussy just how you want, making you see stars behind your eyelids and cry to the moon above.

It doesn’t take long for that feeling of release to dawn on you. You can’t help it. His tongue just feels too good! Plus, the atmosphere and the whole idea of getting caught in such a risqué position turns you on more than you’d like to admit. Sero must realize you’re close because his jaw starts to move faster, accompanying his tonguefucking with porn-worthy moans of his own that nearly throw you over the edge. “Fuck, Sero!” you whine. “You gotta stop or I’m gonna cum!”

“Mmm-hmm!” he eagerly hums into your pussy. He pulls his tongue out of your hole and proceeds to suck on your clit while his finger begins to stroke the outside of your slit, barely touching your insides. But it is enough to push you further and further down that road to orgasming all over him. His darkened eyes flick up to yours, staring you down between your thighs. “Ven por mí,” he demands. “Cum for me, baby. Don’t fuckin’ hold back a damn thing.” He grins up at you, his piercings glistening in the moonlight. “I can take it; I’m a big boy.”

He attaches your mouth to your pussy again and runs it until you can't help but fall over that edge. “Ven por mí,” he moans into your cunt, becoming gradually louder as your moans reach higher pitches. “Ven por mí, ven por mí, ven por mí!”

And you finally do. That tight knot in your core finally snaps and a wave of euphoria washes over you as you cum all over Sero's face and eager lips with a loud moan that would shatter glass. You see the entire galaxy and beyond as your pussy gushes, your body shivering and shuddering. Your back arches and your hips wind into Sero’s face, trying to keep as much of the feeling going as possible.

When it finally fades, you’re left feeling tired, spent, and oh-so-good. Sero eagerly cleans you up, taking extra care to not overstimulate you as he runs his tongue over your sensitive, twitching pussy. Then he lifts his head up away from your thighs, giving you a peak of his chin and mouth shining in your juices. With the moon in his glazed eyes, he hums to himself. “You taste better than the rum,” he sighs.

Something in that sentence and the way he looks at you brings something out of you––a passionate, raging fire that can only be tamed by him. Slowly, you bring yourself to sit up in front of him and grab his face to smash your lips against his. He moans into the kiss, surprised at the suddenness of it, but soon melts into it the more your lips move against his. Finally, you pull away and stare into his eyes. “I take it you liked it?” he breathlessly asks.

“I loved it,” you purr, running your hands up and down his tatted chest. “Now I want to thank you in my way…if that’s okay with you.”

Your eyes trail down to the bulge in his briefs that has only gotten bigger. You also notice the visible wet spot soaking the fabric, meaning the guy was secreting precum when he was eating you out. The idea of this makes the fire inside of you grow. You may as well have told him you want to give him a million dollars with how fast he scrambles up on the bed, ready for whatever you want to do with him. You giggle, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before laying him down on his back.

Keeping your eyes locked with his, you slither between his thick, muscular thighs and finally, finally, getting at those briefs. You gently pull them down, being careful to not scratch him with your nails, and gasping softly when his cock springs free from its trap. It pops up like a Jack-in-the-Box, hard, thick, and veiny. There is nothing but smooth skin down there, Sero’s pubic hair completely shaven. He notices you looking and blushes. “I sweat a lot down there in the summertime,” he sheepishly explains. “So I shaved…it isn't weird, is it?”

You don’t even answer him. You just wordlessly take his dick in your hand, your pussy throbbing at how heavy it feels in your palm. You feel him tense at the feeling of your soft hand on him which coaxes you to begin stroking him, just seeing how he feels. He is soft and smooth, his skin stretching back and forth along his dick as you stroke him.

You pay attention to his body language, peering up at him every so often to see how he’s responding to your touch. He lays with his hands fisting the cushions underneath him, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and his eyes closed. Deciding you’ve got him right where you want him, you spit into the palm of your hand and continue to stroke him, lubing him up.

Once his dick is shining in your spit, you attach your lips to the top half of him while your hand busies itself with the bottom half. “Fuck,” Sero sighs when your lips wrap around his shaft. “Tan apretada (so tight)…”

You hollow your cheeks and open your throat to take him easier, realizing how big he is the moment he enters your mouth. He practically stretches your throat! How would it feel to get him inside of you? The thought makes you curious to take him deeper. After a few slow test runs where you slide your mouth up and down along his head, you begin taking him deeper. Sero’s hand moves to your head while his other arm moves behind his head, his hooded eyes gazing down at you.

“Easy, mama,” he coos. “Take your time. Don’t take any more than you think you can.” You do as he says, only taking as much as your throat will allow. You gag around his cock as you begin to bob your head up and down along it, emitting orgasmic groans and swears in Spanish from his sinful lips. “Mierda! (Shit!)” he hisses, his hand tightening on your hair. “Lo estás haciendo tan bien…you’re doin’ so good for me, baby.”

He continues to whisper praise as you gag and bob around him, using as much of your skill as you can. This includes using your free hand to stroke his balls, tugging on them when he begs you to. You ignore the ache of your knees in the sand and the tears pricking at your eyes, no doubt fucking up your eye makeup. The control he allows you makes you want to give him the best neck of his life, hopefully causing him to nut deep down your throat. You’ll gladly take all of it.

Soon he begins to thrust into your mouth, his hips bumping against your chin as his cock fucks your throat. “Still doin’ okay?” he asks, to which you nod, emitting a moan from him when the roof of your mouth slides along his dick. “God, you look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he whines. Wouldn’t it be somethin’ if someone came out here and saw me fuckin’ that pretty throat of yours?”

You tilt your head up to look up at him better, loving the view of his body as he bumps your hips against your face again and again. Spit drips from your lips the sloppier your head gets, only making him fuck your face harder. “You like that idea, don’t you?” he chuckles breathlessly. “Naughty girl. What if that someone is one of your girlfriends? What if it’s a resort worker? You wanna be seen on your knees with dick deep down your throat?”

‘Yes,’ you think, your pussy crying beneath you. ‘Yes, yes, yes!’ You want that more than anything. You don't care how slutty that makes you. You want to be his slut tonight. You want to be his everything and more, if just for one night. Before you can eagerly finish him off, he slides his wet cock out of your mouth, sighing as he does so. You look up at him, confused. Doesn’t he want to cum down your throat?

“You can say no if you want to,” he says, his chest heaving, “but I’m gonna be real with you: I wanna fuck you. I don’t care if it’s out here or back at one of our rooms, but if I’m gonna cum, I wanna feel that pussy wrapped around me first.” His words cause your pussy to gush desperately around nothing. You’ve never wanted someone inside you more. “I want that too,” you breathlessly answer, hurriedly getting to your feet. Sero does the same, taking your hands in his. “We can go back to my room, if you want. If the girls are there, we can go to yours.”

Sero is more than happy to agree with that judging by how his cock twitches between his thighs.

After gathering your clothes and other items, you both hastily dress in the resort robes to avoid getting kicked out of the lobby for entering nude before hurrying to the resort and through the lobby for the elevators. You use your key card to get upstairs, giggling at Sero’s wandering hands along your hips and his lips on your neck. When you finally make it to your floor, the man carries you–carries you–to your room. When you’re finally at your door, you press a finger to your lips, signaling for his silence. You’re not sure if the girls are back yet.

Carefully, you unlock your door with the card and open the door to find your hotel room still quiet, dark, and neatly cleaned, meaning only the floor maid was in here. You’re going to feel so bad for ruining her nice work later, but you can’t bring yourself to feel bad now.

When the door finally shuts, Sero is on you instantly, his hands ripping off your robe and his lips hastily moving against yours. You’re no better. You can't stop yourself from tossing his clothes off too, revealing his naked body and hard cock in the silver moonlight that pours through the window overlooking the resort’s pool and beach in the distance. “I need to fuck you,” he huffs against your lips, his hands squeezing your ass. “Is it okay if I do that? It’s okay to say no if you don’t–“

You silence him with a kiss, gently sucking on his tongue and exposing yourself for your oral fixation. “Shut up and fuck me, Sero,” you purr to him. “I want you to take me to my bed and fill my pussy up the way I know you can.” You then pluck the robe tie from the floor, dangling it in his face. “And I want you to use this on me…please?” Despite feeling emboldened to talk to him in such a demanding manner, that shyness still peeks through.

Sero looks stunned at your naughty request before a smile creeps onto his lips. “I should’ve realized how freaky you were,” he murmurs before pressing a wet, passionate kiss on your lips that makes you think of his mouth in other places. “Let’s waste no more time then.” He takes your hand and leads you to your bed which is right across from Mina and Uraraka’s. You were so happy that your room came with separate beds since you like to sleep with your panties off.

As soon as you plop down on the bed, Sero is hovering over you, his knees on either side of your body. He holds the rope in his hands, staring down at you questionably. With a nod and a reassuring smile, you raise your wrists towards him. Take me.

He doesn’t need any other confirmation that this is what you want. He takes your wrists and wraps them in the tie before attaching them to your headboard so your wrists dangle. “Good?” he asks. You move your wrists around, testing out the new binds. Not too tight but not too loose either.

You nod and he pecks you on the lips before prying your thighs apart. You raise your hips up to meet him, gasping when his cock begins to slide against your slit. His eyes, hooded and hazy with lust, tick up to meet yours. “You still want this?” he huskily asks. You nod, whimpering with need and already yanking helplessly on your binds.

“No,” he firmly replies. “Don’t just nod. I need your words, mami. Tell me you want me.” He slides his cock up, nudging the head against your clit. “Tell me you want all of this dick inside of this pretty lil’ pussy.” You moan in pure desperation, going crazy with need. “Yes, I want you!” you cry out, tears pricking your eyes. “Please, Sero! Please just fuck me, Papi!”

The word slips out before you realize it, but Sero catches it immediately. You see his eyes widen an inch and then, in a flash, his entire personality shifts. As soon as he finally slides his cock head inside of you, you know that this is a different person in your bed. He is no longer the sweet, upbeat, concerned man you met earlier at the nightclub, but someone more dominant. Someone who has no problem breaking you completely and then putting you back together again. It’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever experienced.

“Say that again,” he growls, beginning to roll his hips, sliding his cock head in and out of you at a slow, teasing pace. “Call me that again.”

Weak moans leave your quivering lips as you struggle to stay still, afraid he’ll stop if you move. “Papi,” you whine, “please, please fuck me. I can't take much more of this. Please, please just–“

Your pleas are silenced when Sero slides in a little deeper, filling you up. A mutual gasp leaves your lips as your pussy walls tighten around him, keeping him nice and snug inside of you. He keeps up the slow thrusts, letting you get used to his girth. “That feel good, mami?” he huffs. “You like this?”

As if he can’t see your eyes rolling into the back of your head and hear the moans coming out of you. “Yes, papi!” you sob. “Yes, I love it! Please go deeper!” Sero does just that, his hands gripping your hips as he begins to bump his hips against you a little faster now, never going any harder than you want him to. It is just the right speed and pressure to slide against your G-spot, causing you to cry to the ceiling.

“Yeah,” Sero laughs, staring down at you. “You like this. You love gettin’ filled by a stranger’s dick, don’t you?” His hand finds your throat, applying a bit of pressure and emitting a gasp from you. “This was all you needed to give you that confidence boost, right? Just to get slutted out the way you need to be.”

“Sero,” you groan, your pussy squeezing and clenching around his cock from his words. He leans down close to you, his lips nearly grazing yours as he continues to fuck you into the mattress. “But only I could’ve done this job right,” he whispers. “Only I can fuck you good like this. Right, princessa?”

His hips move faster, harder, his pelvis bumping against your throbbing clit that is close to exploding from the amount of stimulation and care it’s receiving. “Sero!” you loudly sob, gripping the tie around your wrists for dear life. Without a warning, Sero suddenly tosses your legs up to your ears so he can sink in deeper, causing you to nearly scream out as you see heaven’s light before your eyes.

“Tell me,” he grunts, his eyes posted firmly on yours. “Tell me only I can fuck you right like this. Tell me how good it feels!” Whines begin to leave his lips the more rapidly he fucks you, causing your titties to jiggle and the bed to rock.

“So good!” you babble as your pussy squelches and clenches around him. “You’re making me feel so good, papi! I’m gonna cum soon!” You can feel your orgasm beginning to rise the more he grinds his cock into you, filling you to the brim with him.

“Me too,” he groans. “Dios mío (my God), you just feel to fuckin’ good. And you look so pretty stretched around my dick.” He takes his hand off of your neck and strokes your cheek, his thumb swiping against your bottom lip.

“Eres tan bonita (you’re so pretty),” he murmurs, staring down at you in utter adoration. “Eres mia…you’re mine now, honey. I don’t give a fuck if it’s just for the rest of your vacation. I’ll make you mine again and again, every fuckin’ day and night, so you won’t even look at another man back at home.”

He begins to fuck you right into the headboard where luckily you have a pillow to cushion the blows. The feeling of him hitting that spot again and again without fail is so intense that you can’t help the noises that escape you––screams, cries, and sobs of pure, molten pleasure that you know you’ll never get again. He knows it too and that’s why he begins to slow down, working his hips the way he did on that dance floor. It’s too much on your body, too much on your pussy, and you can feel yourself beginning to reach your limit.

Sero leans down to your ear, nibbling on the flesh of your earlobe. “I want you to cum with me,” he whispers into your ear. “Cum around this dick. Cum for me, mami.” He repeats the same line in Spanish, his husky voice filling your ear as his cock kisses your G-spot and his fingers move down to rub your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the brink of no return.

It doesn't take long for you to finally burst around his cock the way you want to. You cum with a long, loud moan that tears out of you as your orgasm washes over you. The moment your pussy clenches around Sero’s cock is the moment he cums too. He grips your hips and swears in Spanish before he pulls out.

It doesn't take long for him. He rapidly pumps his cock in front of your face before his nut spurts all over your body. You gasp as his moans bounce off of the walls, his cum feeling warm on your skin. When you look down, you find it the creamy substance coating your breasts, thighs, and jiggly tummy. There’s even some on your ass due to how high he has your legs up. You are completely covered in him and his scent. And you love it.

Finally, after he feebly gropes one of your breasts and presses a kiss to your foot, Sero unties your wrists and pulls his flaccid cock out of your tender, sensitive pussy, emitting a soft, weak moan from you. Then he’s rolling off of you and plopping down beside you on your bed, exhaustion overtaking him.

The two of you lay there in silence for a moment, basking in the afterglow and processing what just happened. You just had sex with a total stranger. You let him tie you up and fuck you. You let him see your naked body. What shocks you is though you feel stunned at the whole thing, there is no ounce of shame or embarrassment anywhere inside of you. If anything, you feel satisfied with what just transpired.

You turn to Sero, realizing he’s looking at you already, his eyes shimmering in the slant of moonlight pouring through the window. “I meant what I said, you know,” he says, sounding out of breath. You blink at him, confused. “I want to be here with you, every day and night.” A blush coats his cheeks. “I’d like to spend your vacation with you…if you wouldn’t mind.”

You blink at him again, stunned to silence. You have to be dreaming. You just have to be. There is no way this fine-ass man that you just met and gave up your pussy to is really talking about willingly spending the rest of vacation with you. He could have anyone he wants with that face, voice, and body, but yet here he is, laying in your bed, completely pussy-whipped for you and enthralled by your body.

Suddenly, for the first time tonight, you think to yourself, ‘Maybe I am that pretty. Maybe I am that sexy bitch he sees. Maybe I am beautiful.”

“Is that okay?” Sero timidly asks, becoming nervous. Instead of verbally answering, you lean forward and press a long, passionate kiss to his lips that draws a purr of approval out of him. You pull away, staring up into his eyes. “Sero, you’re acting like you didn’t just give me the best two orgasms of my life,” you giggle. “Why wouldn’t I want that?”

The biggest, brightest grin stretches across Sero’s lips at your answer and he leans in to bring you into another open-mouthed kiss that has you craving more. “You know what this calls for, right?” he murmurs, a smirk playing on his lips. Heat pools inside of your core as your mind goes to other places. ‘Please say more sex.’

“A smoke,” he answers, giving you a wink. Though that isn’t the answer you were hoping for, you also know that you have plenty of time to persuade him for another round tonight. He gets out of bed to get his jeans and retrieves his baggie of blunts from out of his back pocket.

Then he swiftly gets back into bed with you and prepares a blunt for you to share. He does the test smoke first and you watch, aroused and entranced, as the smoke billows from between his pink lips. He then passes it to you and laces an arm around your shoulder, watching you lazily as you puff on the blunt. The silence that surrounds you is serene and comfortable as you pass the blunt back and forth between one another.

When you pass the blunt back to Sero after your turn, you flush with embarrassment as naughty thoughts run through your head. “You think we can try something?” you timidly ask. Sero raises a brow. “I’ve…never shotgun with anyone before,” you softly confess, catching your bottom lip between your teeth.

Sero lets out a laugh that you weren’t expecting. “And you wanna do it with me?” he asks, his smile teasing and playful, making you flush even more. “I think I’m honored and turned on.” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips before passing you the blunt. “Here, you inhale first.”

You do as he says and inhale the smoke, letting it fill your lungs. He slowly leans in with his lips parted as if to kiss you, silently coaxing you to blow the smoke into his mouth in one slow, steady rhythm. You feel even more relaxed now–not just because the weed is working on you, but because you realize that Sero is a man who doesn’t judge.

He accepts every single part of you, inside and out. The thought of leaving him when vacation is over almost pains you, but you’re not going to think about that right now. Tonight and the next fun-filled days here are all that matters.

“Feel good?” he chuckles, admiring your hooded eyes. You slowly nod, a smile creeping onto your lips. “Now it’s your turn.” He takes the blunt and puffs on it pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “Come here,” he murmurs, and you’re helpless to resist him. You lean in, but he takes you by surprise when he firmly places his hands on your hips and flips you onto him so you’re now straddling him.

You slowly part your quivering lips for him and nearly moan when he blows the smoke into your mouth in an indirect kiss. It is just as addictive and as sexy as a direct one, but nothing beats Sero’s lips on yours. You lean in and devour his mouth, swirling your tongue around with his. He tastes like weed, mint, and rum. You find yourself nearly shoving your tongue down his throat which he groans at, his hands grabbing your ass and giving you a smack that has your pussy crying.

When you pull away, a sheen line of saliva connects to your bottom lips. “Round two then?” he asks, staring up at you with hooded eyes.

Before you can say yes or even plant your pussy on his cock that you feel hardening beneath you, you hear the hotel door unlock. Your heart leaps as you immediately jump off of Sero and hide under the covers while he sits up, hiding you from the strangers behind the door.

In walks Mina and Uraraka, drunk and hyped up on attraction judging by the two hot strangers trailing in behind them. One is tall, buff, and redheaded with a toothy grin and his hand in Mina’s while the other is shorter but just as fit and sexy with platinum-blonde hair and crimson eyes that you know have panties dropping. His hand is on Uraraka’s lower back, his fingers toying with the little strings keeping her dress together.

“So this is our room,” Mina giggles, inviting the men inside. “We have three different beds, so we can–“ She stops when her eyes land on you and Sero, naked under the sheets and staring at the four like deers in headlights. Uraraka gasps, covering her mouth and going as red as a tomato.

“Looks like your room is preoccupied right now,” the redhead chuckles, grinning at Sero. “See you finally got her, man!” The blonde rolls his eyes, his hand still on Uraraka’s backside. “It’s about fuckin’ time,” he grumbles. “He’s been eyein’ this woman down the entire night like an idiot.”

Sero looks at Mina and Uraraka who look like they want to shoot themselves. “I see you met my friends, girls,” he chuckles. “You’ve got good taste.”

The redhead winks at him and wraps an arm around Mina's waist. “Y’know, why don’t we go back to our room? We’ve got a hot tub, a minibar, and a great view of the beach. We could give these two some much-needed privacy, too.”

Mina quickly nods and practically pushes the three out of the room, winking at you on the way out. The door shuts behind them, leaving you two alone once more.

Sero turns to face you and slithers his hand up your thigh. “So,” he purrs, “we still on for round 2?” He could’ve asked for five rounds and you would’ve given it to them.

The rest of the night is spent in bed, with kisses, touches, snuggling, and endless pleasure that make you want to miss your flight at the end of the week.

THE END.

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