#Television Inspired Food | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skzhua · 4 months

Text

if i leave, which i must do

MASTERLIST

pairing: han jisung x female!reader

genre: fluff, angst, isekai, portal universe, strangers-to-lovers.

word count: 29,083

warnings: swearing, car accident, mentions of death, mentions of sex, suggestive. (proofread-ish)

summary: a movie night by yourself turned out to be an unexplainable experience as you got stuck in the film you were watching. it was a true nightmare until you found jisung to help you.

a/n: one of my favourites ever! it took me so long to finish it but i can't be any prouder. i really hope you enjoy it!

Being sick was one of the things you hated the most, and there wasn't much you hated. Having a cold meant having to cough every five minutes to clear your throat or blowing your nose all the time to the point it got red from how irritated it was. One perk, however, was that you could use it as an excuse to skip work. Getting to stay at home to do nothing was everything your lazy nature would dream of. Plus, your love for movies and cinema came handy when all you could do was watch films all day.

So when you began to feel your throat getting dryer and your nose building up snot, you couldn't be any happier. The office you worked at had given you very strict deadlines and you'd been working your ass off for weeks to meet their expectations. By taking the next day off, it would give you a very much needed break since all of your documents would be given to someone else to finish them. 22 years old was too young to be doing this much, you thought. But you needed the money so you had to settle for that, only temporarily.

First thing you did when you got home that day was to open all the windows of your apartment, not considering your poor rabbit in her playpen who didn't ask for any cool air. It might not have helped much in making sure you would stay sick the next day but you gave yourself credits for trying nonetheless.

Afterwards, you hurried yourself to get changed into your pyjamas you loved so much and order food since you had no energy to cook. Once your order arrived, it didn't take you long to get settled on the couch to get ready for a movie night on your own. Before doing anything, you still made sure you had everything — meaning your food, water, your blankets, cutlery for your meal, etc. — and then grabbed your remote to turn the television on. As you browsed through Netflix's selection of recommended films for you, you realized how the movies on there became repetitive and you had seen most of them. Still, you continued to scroll in hopes something would be eye-catching enough to you. But none seemed good enough. Annoying, your food was getting colder by the minute.

You were about to move onto another streaming platform until you read a synopsis that grabbed your curiosity. It followed the journey of a struggling artist in his early 20s who can't seem to find the inspiration for his music, all while having to face his personal issues called becoming an adult. This was not the type of movies you would usually go for which made you wonder why it even caught your eye. The duration was an hour and fifty minutes and that was also not what you'd go for on a daily basis. Besides that, heavy subjects as these ones felt a bit much for a Wednesday night. However, you weren't going to work the morning after so fuck it. Happy with your choice, you grabbed your plate and brought it closer to you to dig into it and clicked on the play button.

The opening scene showed a young boy — not much older than seven if you had to guess — playing in a playground with a few friends. Some credits appeared on screen as the mellow score played in the background. As the children continued to laugh loudly, a woman's voice could be heard calling out a "Han Jisung". The boy turned around to see his mother walk up to him as she informed him that it was time to head back home. The boy shook his head violently, insisting on staying longer to play. The woman repeated herself but unlike what she would've liked, her son refused to budge and headed to the swings he was playing close to, holding tightly onto one of the poles. Sighing heavily, she asked him again but he did not move. Poor woman, she was obviously exhausted and wanted to go home to take a nap.

"You and me, girl," you commented in-between bites.

Growing impatient, Jisung's mother approached him and reached her hand out to him. Stubborn, he shouted he wanted to stay, and ran all the way to the other side of the street to get away from her reach. As any mother would do, she ran after him while telling him to slow down as he was much faster than her. He still ignored her demands. Sadly, she was not quick enough to catch up with him and, just as she was crossing the road, a pickup truck collided with her body right before Jisung's eyes. It took him a moment to process everything, he was left speechless. Mouth wide open, he stared at the figure of his mother on the ground in horror. He fell onto his knees, his legs too weak to support his body as he was still in disbelief of what just occurred.

You paused it.

Releasing an exhale you didn't know you were holding back, you stared at the screen in shock. You were barely ten minutes in and you could not believe this had to be how the film began. Setting your plate on the coffee table, you walked to your rabbit's playpen and picked her up, bringing her close to your chest. You jumped right back into your blankets and made sure both you and the animal were comfortable.

"Fifi, I won't be able to finish this if I don't have you with me," you said to your bunny in a child-ish voice.

The screen was still frozen while you debated whether you really wanted to continue it or not. In the end, you gathered all the courage you had and clicked on play, giving Fifi scratches to release your stress.

The next scene was a time skip to Jisung's 23rd birthday. When you thought he was all alone as he was staring longingly at a picture of him and his mother, one of his friends barged in his room as he shouted a "happy birthday". He responded with a smile and set the picture back on his desk before the both of them walked out to their dining room. There were only two other men with him who seemed to be living with him. The place wasn't that big but it was functional which is what mattered really. Jisung's other friend placed a cake in front of him as they sang the birthday song to him, all of them exchanging wide smiles. You learned that he is the youngest since his friends kept on teasing him for being a year closer to their own ages.

"Have we gotten any calls?" he asked after blowing on the candles.

From their reaction, they didn't receive any sort of call that they were expecting. This didn't make Jisung lose his joyful spirit and he went ahead with cutting pieces of cake for the three of them.

"Great, now I'm craving cake," you grumbled to yourself. "Should I get a cake? No, it's too late and the grocery stores must be closed."

The scene switched to an anxious Jisung in his room who kept on rewriting on a piece of paper while tugging on his hair, eyebrows furrowed as to show his focus on the task at hand. He bopped his head up and down and began to hum a melody. Unsatisfied, he shook his head and noted something down on his phone. Multiple shots of him doing the same couple of actions — rewriting, erasing, humming a beat, throwing a paper away, getting distracted by something he saw on his phone —played one after the other. It was like he was stuck in a loop and the more it went, the more he was getting discouraged. Finally determining he wouldn't get any work done that night, he grabbed his jacket and walked out the door.

The following shot was now set outside where the night was slowly settling, sunset on display. As a melodic score played in the background, Jisung walked down a small street as he kept on kicking on a tiny rock he found on the ground. Taking in the fresh air, he suddenly stopped and took notice of his whereabouts after having walked a decent distance. The camera panned out to a playground, the same one where his mother was hit.

You felt movement on your thighs and frowned, only to remember you had brought your bunny out of the comfort of her home. Since the movie didn't seem to be getting into anything as traumatic as the first scene, you stood up to get her back to her playpen. However, with having the screen as your only source of light in the room, you tripped onto the plastic bag that was used to wrap your takeout. You felt yourself fall onwards and let out a yell in panic. Your bunny was quick enough to get away from your grasp and hide underneath your couch. As for you, you kept on falling and closed your eyes shut in waiting of your head hitting something. Only, everything went black.

You didn't know what happened but one thing was for sure. You did not hit your head.

Everything was blurry when you finally opened your eyes after gaining a bit of consciousness. You tried to see better around you but a sudden eerie ringing was suddenly bursting through your ears, making it impossible for you to concentrate on something else. You shut your eyes closed again from how painful the ringing was and put your hands on your ears in attempt to diffuse some of it.

"Miss?" you thought of hearing faintly but nothing was vivid enough for you to be sure. "Miss?" you heard the voice say again, this time a tad bit clearer.

You began to hear again much clearer, allowing you to open your eyes properly. Needless to say you were stunned once your gaze fell upon the man in front of you. He had a concerned look on his face while analyzing your figure, making sure you were not injured in any way.

It couldn't be possible, no.

Looking around for a hint or anything, you realized you were exactly where the character of your movie was standing through your screen only minutes ago. The same character who was now all flesh and bones, standing tall (or short for some people) at 5'7ft in front of your very eyes.

"Miss," he said again. "Are you alright? Do you need help?"

You blinked slowly as you stared at him up and down, almost creepily. You hadn't realized he began to feel uncomfortable until he cleared his throat loudly, bringing your eyes back to his own. With one eyebrow raised, he repeated the question. No luck, you kept silent.

Jisung looked around and noticed the sun was about to get down completely, meaning it would be pitch black in this part of the city. Although he thought of you to be odd, he was humane. Never would he let a young woman — might he add as attractive as you were — on her own this late outside.

"Do you live nearby? I can walk you home," he offered.

Again, you didn't seem to find an answer. Well, how could you even describe that you believed to have gone through your television screen which caused you to travel into the movie's universe? Yourself couldn't believe it to be true. Nonetheless, you couldn't deny the man was very much real and that the cold was very much coming through your clothes.

Your clothes. You weren't in your pyjamas anymore, but rather in a business attire. You held a briefcase that you had no idea what it was for, and you felt an unknown phone in your back pocket. You could feel the blisters on your feet caused by the heels you were wearing and although the blazer was most definitely fashionable, you were freezing. You pondered the possibility of having transferred into a character's body unintentionally.

"Do you have somewhere to stay?" Jisung asked as he caught onto your oblivion.

The only thing you could do right until finding out what happened to you was say nothing and lead your own investigation on how you got here and how you can return to the comfort of your house with your bunny. Fuck, Fifi! Poor her, she must be so afraid without you around to take care of her.

"Hey," Jisung spoke again in a comforting voice. "You'll be okay, I want to help you. Did you forget where you live?"

How sweet of him, you thought. In your own universe it was hard for you to find caring men, you hit the jackpot when stumbling upon him. Still, you had to remind yourself that this person was technically a fictional character, he didn't represent reality. You made a mental note to yourself to check if this movie was directed or written by a woman when you would get back home.

"Do you know your name, at least?"

Oh, right. Maybe the guy deserved some sort of answer at the very least.

"Y/N."

You were taken aback when his face lit up to show his boxy smile. He had a very pretty smile, it was a reassuring smile.

"Miss Y/N, my name is Han Jisung. Now that I know you can speak, can you answer my questions from earlier, please? I would hate for something dangerous to happen to you and I genuinely want to get you home safely."

You chuckled at his words, feeling uneasy from his display of chivalry. "I-I don't remember a lot."

You had seen this in movies: in situations of travelling to an alternate universe, faking having amnesia was the way to go if you wanted to survive through this. People put their guards down usually instead of being wary of you.

Jisung nodded and looked up for a moment to think of what to do next. "I live nearby if you need a temporary shelter for the night. I have two roommates and the place might not be as tidy as what you must be used to, if you remember. I don't know if you are comfortable with it but I'd be happy to help you gain your memories back."

Seriously, why couldn't people be more like this in your world? Trying to ignore to storm of feelings, thoughts and emotions that was happening in your mind, you shyly agreed to stay at his place. For the night only. You should get back in less than 24 hours, no?

Jisung was right and his apartment was no further than a few blocks away from the playground. The building was rather small and a bit torn down but besides that, it seemed to be just fine for him. As long as the necessities were there, it didn't bother him if the quality was not one of a five-star hotel.

It took you three flights of stairs to get to his place which was so painful to climb up with your heels. You still managed through the pain all the way up to when Jisung opened the door wide to let you in first. To say you were startled when you walked in would be an understatement. Two men — you recognized as his roommates — were walking around the flat with no shirt on while they were preparing themselves what seemed to be like chicken sandwiches. The sight was not what you had anticipated, although this whole situation wasn't either, and you let out a scream without thinking first. The two of them shot their heads up and were obviously confused to see a young woman stand there instead of their younger friend.

"Can we help..?" one of them who had blonde hair asked reluctantly.

"Guys!" Jisung exclaimed from behind you before coming to stand next to you. "This is Y/N. Y/N, these two are my roommates. This is Changbin."

Changbin held his hand up, still lost about what was happening in his own home. "Hey?"

"And that's Chan."

Chan was kind enough to grab a hoodie that was laying on a chair nearby and put it on before shaking your hand. Your heart stopped from the contact with his skin and you seriously wondered what was up with the men of this world.

"Y/N is a bit lost, I think she had a some sort of brain injury when I bumped into her. She was holding her head tightly and she was visibly in pain. I asked her a few questions about herself and the only thing she could remember was her name," Jisung explained to the older guy who listened attentively.

"Amnesia?"

"That's my guess. Until we can help her find who she is, I offered her to stay here."

Chan nodded in approval while Changbin shrugged his shoulders. "As long as I can work on my stuff in peace, I don't mind. She's kind of cute too."

"Changbin," Chan sent him a look, making him mutter a quick apology. He then turned to face you which scared you a little. "I bet you're tired. Or hungry, maybe? Can I offer you something to drink?"

"Do you have green tea?"

He clasped his hands together and headed off back to the kitchen. "On it."

"I'll give you a tour of the place," Jisung informed. "It's not big but it's home. Here is the living room which we do not use that much. I'll sleep there tonight, though, so you can have my bed."

You held your hand up in disagreement. "I'll take the couch, it's alright. I'm lucky enough you're letting me stay."

He pfft at you. "Nonsense, take my bed. I insist." When he got a nod from your part, he moved on to continuing showing around. "This is the bathroom. Not that big but it does what it needs to do. Here's Changbin's room and I recommend you don't knock if the door is closed. Just wait until he's done. And here's Chan's room where he never sleeps, just works."

"Not true," you could hear from the kitchen, making Jisung smile, embarrassed.

"Yeah, uh, we can pretty much hear everything throughout the whole flat. It's not that bad from the rooms to the common areas because we tried to soundproof them as much as we could but yeah."

"Soundproofing for your music, or for other types of activities..?" you implied jokingly.

Damn it, the air in this universe was different, you couldn't even be yourself. Well, you did make a lot of bad jokes, sometimes related to sex, back home. Still, you really had no filter there. Noticeably, both of you were quite surprised from your statement and were a blushing mess for a few seconds before he answered.

"Music, but it is useful for these... things."

He cleared his throat and walked away shyly, and you most certainly thought this was adorable. Containing yourself, you followed his lead to the room at the very end of the hallway. Everything you saw from the movie was still at their exact spot, including the picture of him and his mother. While he was telling you about his room and cleaning it up a bit at the same time, you couldn't hear a thing he was saying. Your eyes stuck on the framed image for longer than they should but there was something in his mother's eye. A shine? A glow? Or something more mellow? You couldn't figure it out but it was enchanting, she was beautiful. It was crazy how much Jisung took after her, their features being so similar and yet so different.

"She's pretty," you spoke before thinking, yet again.

Jisung awkwardly walked to his desk and put the picture face down. "It's my mom," he said, clearing his throat and avoiding your look.

"She raised a very kind son," you added and he mouthed a small "thanks" as he kept his eyes on the floor.

You took the opportunity to get a good insight of his personal space. Even if cleaned a bit, it was a mess but not in a disgusting way. It was a comfort kind of messy, the one that screamed "this place was loved and well lived in". His bed had simple dark blue sheets with a single pillow, his desk and dresser were a matching set, and his bookshelf was filled with figurines, one or two books and many music albums. His entire desk was dedicated to his music, even the background displayed a guitar. It felt homey.

"Someone ordered tea?" Chan said as he came in with a mug. He set it on the desk while you thanked him kindly. "Be careful, it's still boiling hot."

Without adding a word, he left the two of you alone in your awkward silence. While you were still looking around, Jisung was biting his lip down, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt with one hand while the other was still on the picture. Eventually, he seemed to snap out of his discomfort and went to open one of his drawers. From there, he pulled a t-shirt out along with a pair of sweatpants before holding them out to you.

"I'm pretty small so hopefully it'll fit. You can use the shower as long as you need, the shampoo and soap are in the basket. Use any towel, we washed them this morning," he informed to which you nodded. The silence was slowly coming back but, decisively, Jisung wouldn't let this one through. "I'll be in the living room if you need anything."

"Thank you, Jisung."

He gave you one last smile before vanishing into the other room, leaving you alone to get changed. That was important, yes, but what you'd been dying to find out was what the fuck happened with you. You didn't waste another second to take the phone in your back pocket and turn it on. Obviously, it had a password unknown to you. What did help was the wallpaper: a picture of yourself hugging a bunny that looked identical to Fifi. At least, you knew you were yourself and not some random woman whose body you had to take over.

If this was your face with your bunny, did it mean it would be the same passcode as the one for your own mobile? You had to try at the very least, this phone was most likely your only chance to understand the situation better. You typed the first five digits and waited a second before typing the last one, tension growing in you. You closed your eyes, pressed it, and slowly opened them back. The sigh of disappointment that left your mouth would be indescribable but it was very discouraging. At least, you knew there was another Fifi waiting for her owner to get home in this universe too.

You quickly got changed, finally taking off these uncomfortable heels, and went to freshen up in the shower. Despite the fact the counter was a huge mess, the shower itself was kept pretty clean, more than you had expected for a boys apartment. You didn't wash for long, already exhausted from the day you'd had. After putting Jisung's clothes on, you walked out the bathroom, went to grab your tea, and joined the man who helped you in the living room.

When he got a good look at you, his eyes grew bigger while his plump cheeks flushed a little. The sight of a woman in his clothes was never something he though of ever happening. And yet, here you were. As beautiful as a model, you were in his clothes.

"Can I join you?"

Fuck, even your voice was pretty. He didn't realize it at first –probably because he only focused on helping you out– but you were drop dead gorgeous. All of the sudden, he could feel his hands getting sweatier and his heartbeat getting faster. What was happening to him?

"Sure," he mustered the energy to answer without stuttering. "How are are you feeling?"

"Calmer, but I'm still worried. I have no idea who I am and the background of my phone is myself with my rabbit who must be wondering where its owner went," you answered and pulled the phone out of your pocket to show it to him.

"Cute," he commented, not knowing if this was directed to you, the rabbit, or both. "Did you try getting in?"

You nodded. "The only password I could think of didn't work and I don't want to risk blocking it."

"I have a friend, Felix, he's studying in computer engineering. I can give him a call tomorrow and he could come to unlock it."

Your face lit up instantly. "That would really help, please."

"I'll do that first thing in the morning."

"Thank you."

He looked away and cleared his throat, your presence was making him so nervous. "It's no problem."

You got up and began to inspect the room, a little bit like you did in Jisung's. The couch wasn't aesthetically pleasing to the eye but it did the job and was the perfect amount of squishy. Their television was without a doubt second handed from someone else while the furniture that supported it was freshly new. You liked how they managed to organize everything to be functional without feeling cramped in the place, since it was very small.

"Do you always do this?" Jisung asked after watching you himself.

"What do you mean?" you frowned.

His face warmed up, embarrassed. "I meant, because you keep looking around like an investigator or something like that."

"Jisung, I've just lost all of my memory. I'm just trying to process everything and the very least of things would be to make sure I wasn't welcomed into an unsafe place, not like I think you're dangerous, but you know what I mean."

He nodded while pursing his lips in understanding. He proceeded to mentally flicker his forehead, swearing to himself to shush it around you. He really was trying to come off friendly and helpful but his reserved nature would force him to tell you stupid things like this.

"I'm done with my tea," you announced, showing him the empty mug.

He stared at you for a second until he snapped out of his thoughts, taking the mug and rushing to the sink to wash it. You chuckled at the sight. You were glad it was him whom you had stumbled upon. Although clumsy, he was being the sweetest.

"I guess I'll go to sleep," you said as he was still rinsing your remaining tea.

He raised an eyebrow at you. "Are you sure you have everything you need?"

"Don't worry, I'll call you if anything."

He nodded his head with satisfaction before wishing for you to sleep well. As he watched your frame disappear, he let out a heavy breath. He knew his social anxiety was bad but this was becoming an issue. He headed to the couch and settled himself to doze off. Still, his mind was on you, on how he had interacted with you. Meanwhile, you were staring at the ceiling blankly, wondering if you were even sure if you could get back home. That, and also thinking how it wouldn't be so bad to stay with these welcoming gentlemen.

To sum it all quickly, you didn't sleep much that night, and neither did Jisung.

If you thought you ever had a headache, the one you got when waking up was much worse than anything you'd had experienced. This was mildly due to the events of the previous day, but also to the screaming happening on the other side of the apartment. You felt safer leaving the door open to have easy access to help in case you needed any but this was not a good choice on your part. You had slightly forgotten men could be noisy as hell when it came to living with other men. And this, it was a confirmation you were not in a dream and still in a fictional character's home.

"Chan, give me the fucking eggs!" you heard Changbin shout angrily while the two others were uncontrollably laughing.

You yawned loudly before getting off the bed, rubbing your eyes in the process. Even if your body was telling you to get back into the soft bedsheets and sleep all day, your mind was screaming for you to not miss a moment to find a solution to your, slightly surreal, problem. Thus, you joined the three boys in the kitchen who were all still in their sleeping attires. By that, I mean Chan and Changbin were shirtless again while Jisung was wearing shorts with a tank top that was a bit too tight in your opinion. You unconsciously began to check them out in silence, standing like a poll.

Changbin finally noticed you and waved in a nonchalant way, visibly annoyed by his friends' antics. "Hey."

Jisung's head shot up from his breakfast to you and he didn't lose a second to join your side. "Hey, good morning. How did you sleep? Are you feeling better? Can I make you something to eat?"

His friends exchanging knowing looks didn't go unnoticed by you but you determined it would be better for the younger guy to be spared from such embarrassment and you ignored them. "I slept alright, although I do have a bit of a headache."

"I have Tylenols in the bathroom's cabinet. Do you want one or two?"

"I'll take two if you don't mind."

He hummed before sprinting to the said-bathroom, which left his friends struggling more to contain their cackles. You ignored them still and joined Changbin, whose body was quite distracting to say the least, and scanned the items displayed in front of him.

"What are you eating?"

The man left a frustrated sigh. "Toast and eggs if only Chan wasn't being a dick by hiding them from me."

"I told you I hid nothing, we just don't have eggs!"

"There were three left yesterday when I checked. How would they disappear out of nowhere?"

Jisung came back with two pills and a glass full of water, sheepishly smiling as he approached his friends. "Yeah, uh, I might have eaten them last night."

Both shut their eyes closed, clearly trying to not burst out at him. Meanwhile, you left out a small chuckle and joined him to get your pills.

"Thank you," you smiled at him and you saw his Adam's apple bop.

He returned the smile shyly to then focus back on the important matter of the day. "I didn't know you'd have an egg craving this morning."

Changbin shook his head. "It's not a craving, I need my proteins for my workout today," he huffed out as it this was the most obvious thing.

They continued to bicker for some time. It lasted long enough for Chan to remember you were still there and probably very hungry. He made two portions of his own breakfast, which was a bowl of cereals and fruits, and sat next to you while placing both dishes on the table. You gave him a thankful smile and the two of you savoured the food while Jisung was trying his very best to defend himself.

"You can just go buy some later," he said, rolling his eyes.

"I needed to eat them now, or it would fuck up my very precise diet."

You let out a grunt, and stood straight up. "Gosh, can you two shut up? I get that I'm bursting into your bubble by having slept here but I have a headache and memories to regain so can you please put your quarrel aside for now?"

To that, Chan pursed his lips and clapped quietly, obviously impressed. As for Jisung, he looked right into your eyes, unable to move. Day two and he was still fucking things up around you, great. He muttered an apology, not even loud enough to be heard, and embarrassingly walked back to his spot at the table to finish his breakfast.

"Sorry, Y/N. I guess I did overreact," Changbin admitted even though you could see it was hurting his pride.

The entire flat was silent for a few minutes with only the sounds from munching your food being heard. Eventually, Changbin went to get changed and headed out to what you presumed to be the gym. Chan was the next person to put his dishes in the dishwasher and lock himself in his room. That left a very quiet Jisung alone with you. He was hunching slightly and his eyes were focused on his phone, almost as to distract himself from your presence.

Feeling a bit offended, you called his name out. His doe-like eyes instantly found yours and you had to keep yourself from squealing at how cute he looked.

"Did you contact your friend for my phone?"

His eyes that were already big enough in your opinion got larger and his mouth opened agape. He most definitely had forgotten.

"I'll call him right now, I'm sorry."

He left the app he was scrolling through previously and dialed up a number before putting it on speaker. Nervous, he was nibbling on his lower lip while his legs were jumping up and down. Even with friends, having to call someone was a challenge for him.

"Han?" a deep voice answered the call.

"Hey, am I bothering?" Jisung asked, visibly uneasy.

"Never, what's up?"

"I got this... Uh, how do I say it? I met this girl yesterday-"

"Wait, a girl?" he cut him off with a gasp.

From the reaction of his friend, Jisung rolled his eyes before looking at you apologetically. He should have expected Felix to react this way by the mention of a girl. Jisung was too insecure and nervous to approach one, it was almost a miracle he even had the courage to even speak to you. Well, the context was much different. He was a man of principles and one of them was to always offer a helping hand to someone in need — you in this case.

"Where? How? What happened? Is she cute? Did you ask her out?"

For what seemed to be the hundredth time to him, he blushed and chuckled nervously. "She can hear you..."

There was a pause from the other side of the line for a brief moment. "Oh."

"Yeah, uh... So I was on a stroll around the neighbourhood and saw her having some kind of panic attack. She's calmed down since but she lost her memories. She has a phone but she can't remember her code so I was wondering if you could come by and unlock it for her, please."

"Sure, I'm with Hyunjin right now, though. Is it fine if he comes too?"

"Yeah, no problem. Thank you, I owe you one." He quickly hung up and smiled before looking at you. "Felix is an expert when it comes to technology, you'll see."

"I trust your judgement," you affirmed. "In the meantime, can I ask you a few questions?"

He was a mystery to you. Not only because he was from another universe, but also because of how he has been acting around you. If you had watched the entire movie before teleporting in it, you would've probably understood his being a lot better. However, his shy attitude and the way he acted when you were talking about his mother was something that bugged your brain cells.

"What kind of questions?"

You shrugged. "I know nothing about myself so I can't really tell you about me. But you have been so nice to me, it's only natural I'd like to know more about you."

"Good point," he let out a breathy laugh. "Alright, go ahead."

"Have you always been this introverted?"

With no hesitation, he shook his head no which wasn't the answer you expected. "I used to be outgoing but things got complicated at some point and I- let's say I rather keep to myself."

"But you've been pretty outgoing with me, no?"

He frowned, seemingly not agreeing with you. "Are you kidding? I'm surprised I'm not having a panic attack right now."

"You're doing good," you reassured with a chuckle.

"Thanks," he said with a nervous cough. "I'm trying."

An awkward silence settled between the two of you while you were still figuring out how to bring up the topic of his mother, especially his feelings towards it. The only thing that you could assume was the trauma it must have caused him based on what you saw on screen yourself.

A knock on his front door was all it took to bring your mind back on track, which caused Jisung to physically relax and run to answer whoever was coming. When the door opened, two men were greeted warmly by the young man. One was standing tall and gracious with his long dark locks falling in front of his eyes. He was pretty, you thought. The other was shorter but his voice was deep, so much you were doubting it was actually his voice. The freckles on his face stood out as much as his smile and his blonde hair was another aspect you took notice of. You learned him to be Felix and the moment his eyes fell onto your small figure, he stared at you with bright open eyes, almost as if he had seen a ghost.

"Oh my, Y/N! I swore Mina and I thought you vanished," he said in a worried voice as he sat where Jisung was previously. "Why didn't you answer our calls? Wait, let me guess, you put your phone on Do not disturb again?"

The taller man, who you were informed to be named Hyunjin from Jisung's greeting, rolled his eyes and sat next to him. The move was very smooth, you were doubting if this man was a model or an angel. Both answers would've made sense.

"Let the girl breathe, you're scaring her. Didn't Han say she has amnesia? Gosh, I'd think you're the one with no memories," he huffed, insinuating that Felix was stupid.

You were a bit startled by his rather rude behaviour but when you looked at Felix's reaction, it seemed to be a normal thing between them. As for Jisung, he stood still next to the door and confusion was sprawled all over his face.

"You know her?" he asked.

Felix lifted his eyes up, as if it was the most obvious thing. "She lives with Mina next to our place."

You nodded your head slowly although you were still totally clueless. "Right, Mina..."

"You really forgot? Damn, okay. Well, I know your passcode because you told me so this won't be a problem. I'm very curious, though. Do you know what happened to you?"

Telling them the truth was tempting but, again, who would even believe you? The thing itself was a mystery to you and felt surreal, you doubted they would take you seriously. Even more so if you mention the movie aspect of it.

"No idea," you shrugged which disappointed Felix.

"Alright, I'll help you regain your memories, then," he sighed and held out his hand in your direction. "Give me your phone."

You did as told and, immediately, Felix tapped the password with no problem before giving it back to you. As you browsed through the apps, you realized not much was different from what you had in your actual phone. If anything, this was the spitting image of it. Your first instinct was to go for the photos you had. As expected, many of them were of your bunny but another majority of them were of you with another girl.

"Mina?" you asked Felix, pointing at the girl's face to which he nodded as a confirmation.

"Your roommate and best friend. If I'm correct, you two have been friends for almost your entire life."

You continued to scroll through the pictures attentively. The other you had a much busier life. You seemed to be out in college parties often and other photos showed yourself in classes with many other friends. You were also quite disturbed to see that your parents were the same ones you had in your real life. Was the movie like this or did your unintentional arrival modify it?

One picture grabbed your attention more than others. It was you at a party again but what your focus was on was the boy behind you smiling happily with a bottle of beer in hands.

"Jisung?" you called for him to see and he proceeded to rush to your sides, hovering above your shoulder to see better.

Your breath cut short at the proximity as you could feel his own hit the side of your face. For a second, your mind went foggy and you turned your head around to look at him. His frown showed as much confusion as you had and you noticed his lips to be pinker than you thought.

"Is this me?" he said in a whisper, which reminded you to focus.

"So you knew who I am!" you exclaimed, almost offended he didn't tell you.

"I swear I don't recall seeing you ever," he tried to justify himself.

Felix stole the device from you and looked at the photo as well, Hyunjin leaning closer to do the same. While he couldn't figure out when this was taken as he was in the picture as well, Hyunjin seemed to have recognized the moment instantly.

"This was at Jeongin's."

"Who?" you and Jisung asked at the same time.

You looked at one another and a blush appeared on both of your faces. Hyunjin, however, didn't give a shit about your somewhat cute interaction and went on with explaining.

"Jeongin, a friend of mine. He hosted a party about a year ago with pretty much the whole cohort of freshmen."

"Oh," Felix exclaimed as the memory came back to him. "Yeah, there were people I never talked to again after that. Must have been the case for you two."

"But if I'm friends with you-" you began but were cut right away.

"We're neighbours, not friends. I don't hang out with you much, no offense."

"None taken."

Suddenly, you heard a small gasp coming from behind you. All eyes stopped on Jisung who was covering his mouth with his hand. You cocked your head to the side to incite him to speak but he shook his head and left to run to his room. You glanced at the two remaining men in search of an answer but they shrugged and continued to look through your pictures.

"Ah, look! Your most recent one dates from yesterday," Hyunjin noticed and gave you the phone back.

You scanned the screen and frowned. In the background, you could see a tuft of hair that was too similar to Jisung's for it to not be his. You were wearing the same outfit as the previous day and you were obviously only taking a cute selfie for yourself. This was without a doubt taken just before you appeared. Was this version of you an actual person? Where was she now if you were in her body at this very moment? What if she was in yours? How traumatic for her would that be if she learned she was nothing more than an extra in a Netflix film.

"I wonder where I was going," you decided to say for now, not wanting to look suspicious.

"If I had to guess, back home. You're on an internship in an accounting company this semester, thus the attire."

You were so grateful Felix knew about you enough to give you a better insight of your life. Nonetheless, this was helping you in no way to go back to your universe. You discarded the phone away from you and let your head fall on the table while mumbling a "thank you" to him.

"The school offers free therapy sessions for those in need," Hyunjin suggested, earning a bump of the elbow from his friend. "What? Sorry for trying to help."

"I can take you back to your place for now, Mina might be better than me to help you," Felix offered, ignoring Hyunjin.

"That would be great, yeah," you said gratefully, lifting your head up. "Can you take me now?" He nodded. "Good. You don't mind if I go thank Jisung first?"

"Go ahead."

The door of his room was closed which came as no surprise considering the way he left so abruptly. Still, you knocked softly and waited patiently for him to answer. It took a minute or so but he did open the door, just wide enough for you to see his face. Just when you thought you had seen him at his most embarrassed, here he was, avoiding your gaze.

"Felix is going to get me home."

He nodded quickly before muttering "That's good."

"I came to thank you again for letting me stay. Not many people are as kind as you have been to me."

He cleared his throat. "I told you, it's no problem."

"Still, thank you."

Since you were visibly making more and more uncomfortable, you didn't stay any longer and were quick to head out, not forgetting to at least wave bye to Chan.

You weren't living far from there, only a couple of streets away. On the walk to your dorm, you learned Felix and Hyunjin were living together and that they were both studying in contemporary arts at the same college you were attending. Both knew you to be the nice girl next door while Mina was much louder than you were. Needless to say, you were looking forward to meet this girl.

"You're at the end of the hallway and we're here," Hyunjin informed as he stopped in front of their place. "Let us know if you need anything."

"Thank you, guys, so much."

Felix sent you one of his warm smiles and the two of them disappeared into their home. You stared at the door in the end of the hallway slightly scared. You had no idea what to expect but, here you were. Having not much of a choice, you went ahead and unlocked the door with what Felix told you to be the key to your place before walking in.

The first thing you saw was a wide playpen with a bunny munching onto its food; Fifi. You wondered if she had the same name or not. Just besides it was a couch where a girl was lazily scrolling through her feed. Upon hearing someone coming in, her head turned to see who it was. From her face, you concluded she was relieved to see it was you. Immediately, she jumped off the couch and came to hug you tightly.

"Y/N, what the fuck! I was worried sick, where the hell were you?" she almost screamed into your ear.

Yeah, she was definitely a loud person.

"Hey..." you trailed off, unsure on what to respond.

She let go of the hug, still holding your shoulders, and gave you a skeptical look. She scanned you from up and down which made you self-conscious for a second. It was almost like she was leading her own investigation.

"Why are you so stiff?"

Upon hearing her remark, you tried to relax a little but according to her expression, this did not work. "Uh, you might want to sit down for this one."

Her eyes went wide and she grabbed you to go sit on the couch. "What? Did you meet someone and slept at their place? Did you get kidnapped?"

Gosh, she really was adamant about your whereabouts and getting answers from you. In a way, you couldn't blame her as she had been thinking for almost 24 hours that her best friend had vanished. It didn't mean this didn't overwhelm you nonetheless.

"Kind of?"

"Which one? The kidnapped part or sleeping at someone's place?"

"The second one."

She gasped in surprise. "You slept with one of your co-workers!"

You rolled her eyes at her assumption, growing tired of her already. "Mina, can you let me speak please?" She seemed to get startled by your intervention but she nodded and kept her mouth shut. "Thank you. Okay, so, where do I start? Uh, first of all, I actually don't know you."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Are you kidding? We've known each other our whole life."

"This is more complicated..."

Then, you proceeded to explain everything to her. Well, the whole amnesia story. She surprisingly sat still and listened throughout your entire monologue, expressing a couple of times her reactions with gasps and hums. When you were done, she was looking up in the air to think. You hoped what you said made enough sense so she wouldn't have any doubts.

"Han Jisung who lives with Chan, no?" she asked and you nodded. "As in Bang Chan?"

You shrugged. "I don't know his last name but I guess it was him."

"Damn, you were with these losers," she exploded in laughter.

If she really was your best friend in this world, you were beginning to question yourself on why you would hang around someone thinking this low of other people. To you, these guys couldn't be any kinder. Besides the fact their apartment was a bit trashy, you couldn't think of a single thing that would make someone call them with such names.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, honey," she started with an exhale. "They've been telling people they will become a successful group but they've been getting nothing more than a few gigs here and there. Not only that but I've heard Han can't even come up on stage."

Your heart dropped. Of course he would have stage fright, he was so insecure just by stepping foot outside of his home. Something else bugged you about her comments. She had a bittersweet tone coming with it, like she had an history with these guys.

"It doesn't make them losers..."

She scoffed. "Wow, amnesia did something to you. If you still had your memories, you would agree with me."

"I just don't understand why you'd say they're losers if they're struggling with their career. Challenges happen to everyone."

"I know but- You know what? I'll tell you after you regain your memories. For now, I'll help you get back into the real world."

If only she meant this as actually going back... If she were to have this attitude while helping you go through this, you were debating to go back to Jisung's place and let them help you instead.

However, after this uncomfortable altercation, she was being nothing but the sweetest. She went through every aspect of your life slowly, from your birth until now, and made sure you were following along. Everything you had to remember about your present self wasn't so complicated; you were an accounting student following an internship and you were a second year college student. You liked your bunny a lot (who you discovered to be named Fifi as well), your best friend was Mina and Seungmin was your favourite co-worker at your internship. As for your personality, you were pretty much the same with the exception of loving to go out and socialize.

Great. You were going to love being here.

A week or so had passed since your arrival and you were starting to panic. There was not a day where you wouldn't get homesick and miss your old life, nor there would be a moment you thought of the potential other you having to live elsewhere. This was still a mystery to you. In the little time you had to do some research about travelling through different dimensions, the only thing you would find were fictional stories or theories from crazy people that were in no way consistent with what you were experiencing.

Besides that, accounting would never be a field of career you would personally choose which made all the lot more difficult. You were lucky to have Seungmin, a bright guy who volunteered to help you adapt upon learning about your issue.

"You're getting better," he commented after reviewing your report.

"Hopefully I'll be as good as I was in no time," you sighed before letting yourself drop on your chair. "Why did I even choose accounting?"

"You'd do it with such ease, it was an obvious choice."

"Yeah, well post-amnesia me hates it."

"And post-amnesia you is done with her shift for today."

You checked the time and realized he was right. You were glad today was ending in the early afternoon, it meant you would have time to stop by at the school's library to go on with your research. Without losing another minute, you sorted your documents on the small desk that you were assigned at and grabbed your belongings.

"See you tomorrow?"

Seungmin shook his head and chuckled. "Tomorrow is Saturday."

You formed an "o" with your mouth, blushing from embarrassment. You were quick to say bye to him and walk out of the building. Luckily, the campus wasn't too far from there. Nonetheless, you had to use the GPS as you weren't used to the neighbourhood yet. You were hoping you would never get used to it, anyway.

Having to wear heels at the company, you got the habit of bringing a pair of sneakers to change into once the day was over. This way, you could walk like a normal person instead of stumbling onto your own feet.

Once you reached the school's library, you were a bit intimidated by the size of it. There were so many rows just filled with bricks of books, each one of them different than the other. How on Earth would you find what you were looking for?

"May I help you?"

Your gaze moved to the front desk where the person calling for you spoke and you jumped at the sight. While the gentleman at the computer was smiling politely at you, a quiet Jisung was seemingly sorting books behind him, doing everything he could to avoid your eyes.

"Hi, do you have some sort of search browser for the books available here?" you asked the young man.

"There's a browser available on every public computer, although I have one with me just here. I can type in the book you're looking for right now."

"Oh, that's very nice but I'm actually not looking for one book in particular."

The man held his hand up to stop you. "Let me guess, magazine issues for a research project because the teacher asked for a paper reference?"

"Uh, no."

Your answer confused him furthermore, causing him to drop his shoulders in exasperation. "You read for fun?"

"Minho," Jisung interrupted the conversation. "You could help her instead of judging."

You were pleased to know he had enough self-esteem in him to speak his mind. The two of you hadn't seen or spoken to each other since you went back home-ish and you had been wondering what he was up to. Him working at the college's library had definitely not been what you thought he'd do to make money. Still, this was only a student job so it made sense. But a library? You didn't see a single actual book in his room.

"Right," Minho cleared his throat. "I apologize, what can I look up for you?"

"I'd rather look it up by myself if you don't mind," you said, a bit embarrassed.

"No problem, the computers are behind the philosophy essays section."

You nodded your head but didn't move the slightest. While this was supposed to be a place every student would go to get their work done, you didn't know your way here. Heck, it was a miracle you even made it to the library considering you visited the campus once in the week you'd been here.

"Go straight ahead and turn left when you see the couches."

You smiled at Jisung as a thank you, although he didn't return it, and followed his directions. Soon enough, you sat down at one of the stations and turned the PC on. The screen flashed the school's logo beautifully before it changed to the log in page.

Of course, you had to get into your student account to have access to this stupid computer. If you had an account, you certainly didn't have a clue about what your infos were. You went into your phone's notes to check if the other you had noted it down at some point. When you stumbled upon a note named Passwords, you thought you held the solution to your problem. However, the note itself was private and needed another code to get in. Even by trying your phone's passcode, it stayed locked.

Decisively, the world was against you for this one. Having no other option, you opted to look for what you were searching for on your own without any catalog. If it had to take until midnight, you'd stay until midnight.

You searched one row, and this one only took forty minutes to get through. This was discouraging but you wouldn't give up just yet. And so, another row was done after another forty minutes. There wasn't a book remotely close to what you needed, it was frustrating. And so, another row, another forty minutes.

"Need something?"

You really had to stop jumping every time something took you by surprise. Your focus was lost when Jisung, who was leaning on the bookshelf, was staring at you with a concerned look.

What you weren't aware of was that he had been watching you since you stepped foot in the library. He couldn't keep his mind off you since you left and seeing you so suddenly made him quite nervous. Seeing that you were as much of a mess as he was when you were looking around for a few hours now, it was good enough to give him courage to make the first move and come up to you.

"Actually, yes. I'd look through the catalog but I don't have a student account."

"Or rather you forgot it," he corrected and you nodded. "What do you need? It's my second year working here, I know the place like the back of my hand."

"No, I really rather look into it on my own."

He sighed but didn't insist any further. "Alright, I'll log you into my account."

You let out a breathy groan, throwing your head back in relief. "You have no idea how you're saving my life right now."

And you meant every word in their literal sense, unbeknownst to him. He led you back to the computers and chose one where he logged into in no time. You wanted to cry out of joy when you saw the welcoming page pop up with the school's tools already opened for the students.

"Thank you so much, I really owe you now."

He scratched the back of his head in uneasiness. "It's nothing."

You shook your head vigorously, refusing his answer. "You're too kind for this world and I want you to know it."

A blush crept on his cheeks and he allowed himself to smile a little. "Alright, then you're welcome."

With a satisfied grin, you sat down and opened the library's browser immediately. You looked into the categories first to see if you could make a more subtle research before jumping right into the actual topic. The section Legends and Myths caught your attention and you clicked on it. A vast selection of books, magazines and essays were offered to you which almost made you want to give up on the spot. But still, nothing online was helping you so this was your last hope.

You spent a lot of time, too much time, scrolling through the catalog. So much, you hadn't realized how dark it was outside until you looked around. There was nobody left, only you. When you checked the time, it was merely 8:00 P.M. which meant you still had about three to four hours to continue. However, the growl coming from your stomach was telling to take a break and get a snack. Were you too stubborn to quit and kept on searching anyway? Yes, you were.

The sound of wheels coming your way, on the other hand, could not let you focus properly. It was weird as you thought everyone had left. That was until you saw Minho and Jisung conversing while the latter was pushing a cart labelled with a paper reading Returned Books. Minho, who wearing his school bag, waved at his colleague before heading out, seemingly having finished his shift for the day.

"Jisung?" you called out once the man was alone.

He was startled to see you still at the same spot as earlier but he came your way, leaving the cart behind him. "What's up?"

"Is there a section about scientific research or something like that?"

"What kind of scientific research?" he perked an eyebrow at you. "Aren't you in accounting?"

"Uh..." you trailed off. This was too suspicious to your liking, you had to do without his help. "Actually, forget it. I wouldn't want to bother you while you still have stuff to do," you justified while gesturing the cart from afar.

Jisung wasn't having any of your bullshit. Sure, you were sweet and all but because you had been there for almost the entirety of his shift, he was growing skeptical of you. Your sudden amnesia was one thing but it had been a week, surely you wouldn't be in a library for hours not getting any actual schoolwork done if you didn't have something to hide. As observant as he was, he noticed all of your quirks. All of them were so similar to his own, meaning you were nervous. He didn't want to accuse you of anything, he genuinely wanted to help. Nonetheless, your behaviour caused him to doubt.

Or maybe was it just an excuse he was making up to get closer to you...

"The cart can wait," he argued.

And maybe having one person knowing about your situation might actually come handy. And if you had to pick someone to be aware of it, it would be Jisung. You weren't close enough with Seungmin and Mina seemed to have a tendency of gossiping and talking too much. Jisung was ideal. Plus, the man was the protagonist of the movie, a movie you weren't close to have finished watching. Having the opportunity to get a full insight into his personality wasn't an opportunity you'd pass on.

"Uh, okay," you started, preparing yourself mentally. "I- Can you promise me to not tell a word about this to anyone?"

His expression changed instantly, coming from a frown to a surprise. "What are you about to confess? A crime or something?"

"No, but it's still a pretty big thing and- Just promise me you won't tell a soul about it and that you won't judge me. And that you'll believe me."

His frown came back but he didn't seem as taken aback. "Uh, sure, yeah. I'll keep it to myself."

"Thanks... Okay, uh, where do I begin?"

"Hey," he said while putting a hand on your shoulder, a move that surprised the both of you. "I promise I won't say a thing, you can trust me."

This seemed to do the trick and you calmed down. "I don't have amnesia, I am perfectly fine in terms of memory. I just- I'm not from here."

"What do you mean?"

You were so fucking thankful he didn't accuse you of lying right away. "Do you know the theory about the universe having multiple copies of itself? Hence, many versions of a person?"

"I've seen it in movies."

"Yeah, except this is pretty fucking real for me right now and I somehow managed to come into a parallel universe in my other self's body."

You decided to spare him from telling him he's a movie's character. This was already a lot of information to process for him, telling him he wasn't real would be crushing him.

For a moment, he didn't respond. The frown never left his face. If anything, it got more defined. The longer he wasn't answering, the more you were getting nervous. Did you fuck it up by telling him (half) the truth?

"I saw one book about it, but I'm not sure if it applies to your situation."

Good, he didn't call you crazy. "Can you show it to me, please?"

He immediately led you to a section that was the furthest away from the entrance. It was a bit sketchy as it visibly wasn't frequented a lot. His eyes scanned a specific shelf while his fingers ran through the books. Eventually, he picked one out that had a hard cover with nothing on it other than the title: The Multiverse and its travelers.

"Here, hopefully it'll do."

You took it from him and read the back of it to figure out if it was fit for you or not. When you saw the phrase "seizures and blackouts tend to occur before the shift itself", you determined it would do the job. This was the closest you had gotten to knowing what happened, you had to read this.

"It's perfect, thank you."

"Great, I can enter it under your student account now," he smiled as he was about to go back to the front desk.

You shook your head immediately, grabbing his forearm to stop him. "I can't rent this. What if the other Y/N or other people see this? They'll have questions."

He sighed but he got your point. "I can put it under my name if it'll make you more comfortable."

"Please."

It didn't take him long to enter everything in the system before he gave the book back to you. You were so grateful he didn't react as bad as you expected. Not just that, he was even willing to give you a hand.

"Now that this is done, can you explain what happened to you to have travelled universes?"

Okay, maybe he wasn't totally chill with your situation, which was totally understandable. Before you could speak, your stomach made, yet, another grumble to tell you that you must eat.

"We can do this over a snack," he suggested.

"Aren't you working right now?"

He shrugged, unfazed. "Nobody's here and I can empty the returned books tomorrow."

In no time at all, he put the cart back behind the desk, clocked out of his shift, locked the doors, and walked you to the nearest convenience store. He insisted on paying for your drink and ramen, saying you must be exhausted from the day. Although you wanted to tell him otherwise, he wasn't wrong.

And that's how you were now sitting on the benches of the school's empty football field with only a couple of lights for you to see around.

"Alright, go ahead with the questions," you breathed out before taking a bite of your noodles.

He let out a chuckle as he watched you slurp. "Which one do I even ask first?"

"Whatever comes to your mind."

"Okay, uh... Where are you from?"

You hummed. "I actually don't know what to call it. Earth, obviously, but it's just another version of this one."

"Is it different here?"

"Not really, it's the same year and all but my other self is living a completely different type of life."

"How come?"

"I don't party that much, nor do I like anything having to do with accounting."

He let out a laugh. "I'd say I'm the same."

"Yeah, staying at home is ten times better."

"I agree," he acquiesced before taking a bite of his own meal. "What happened before you got here?"

You shrugged. "I tripped, thought I hit my head, and here I am."

"That's odd."

"Tell me about it," you said in a scoff. "How was I when you met me, anyway?"

"Do you mean you as in you or your other self?"

You frowned. "I thought you didn't know my other self."

He sighed. "I do know her, I just forgot about her. At the party, we actually hooked up but when she learned Mina had a feud with Chan, she told me to forget this even happened."

This explained many things, especially why Mina had such a dislike to the three men. You also began to wonder how did Jisung get in bed with the other you. Before your mind could go much further with that, you stopped yourself and let out a nervous laugh.

"Well, it worked," you chuckled awkwardly. "But yeah, how was I last week in front of that playground?"

He bit in lips while thinking, one of his habits you thought to be adorable. "From afar, you were walking around normally but then, you just kind of froze and began to have a panic attack or something."

"And you were kind enough to come to my rescue," you saw with a dreamy sigh, making him roll his eyes.

"Make fun of me all you want, you're happy I'm the one who rescued you."

"I am," you affirmed.

The blush on his face didn't go unnoticed by you, which also made your face red. Gosh, he really had to be this stinking cute? You had to muster all of your energy to not pinch his plump cheeks.

"Your name is really Y/N, right?" he asked just to be sure.

"That part is true."

"Okay, good."

Unlike other times, the silence that slowly settled between you two was rather comforting. Maybe it was because you had been mostly honest with him, or maybe because he was managing to get more comfortable around you. Either or both ways, you were content with how sereine it was.

"This is fucked up," he commented.

"I know."

As a new silence took over, Jisung's eyebrows furrowed as he stared into his ramen cup, deep in thoughts. While he was having what was probably a mental debate, you gave yourself permission to stare closely at his physical traits. He was hard to read and complex, which was mainly what made him so fascinating to you in the first place. His character was developed as someone so real and sincere, you were almost disappointed he wasn't actually real. His bead-like soft eyes, his perfect glowing skin, his hair that-

"My mom died," he informed you out of the blue.

Your heartbeat quickened all of the sudden. While you processed what he just said, the image of her death came back to you. "I'm sorry," was all you found the energy to say.

"That playground we were at last week was where she was hit by a car. I was so young, it was painful."

Sadness rushed through your body as you were now getting a full image of his emotions. You never expected him to be transparent with you about it, even less since you didn't know each other so well.

"Why are you telling me this? This seems to be pretty personal."

He smiled sadly. "I think she's the reason why I wanted to help you then. I felt her around me, telling me to save someone else for her."

"That's very sweet," you commented in a soft voice.

"It is," he laughed out. "I miss her a lot."

"I would too if I was you."

Slowly, the night came as you began to hear crickets around you. Deciding this was enough for tonight, the two of you left the school grounds. Jisung was generous once more when he offered to walk you home. He would lie if he said his heart didn't pinch when you refused. Nonetheless, you parted ways and began to walk in opposite directions on the dark streets. You were getting further away from each other when you decided to turn on your heels and run back to him. As he heard you come back, he turned around, watching you until you got face to face with him.

"Can I have your number? Since you're the only person who knows about my struggle," you explained, even if you used it as an excuse to keep contact with him.

"Yeah, sure. We can meet a few times to search for a way back together," he suggested which made you grin.

You might not have found a way home that day, but you found a friend.

Mina was still staring at you with disgust while you were getting ready to go to Jisung's place. Apparently, Changbin and Chan were going to a party that night which left the apartment to himself. This was merely three days after your interaction at the library and you were still somehow stressed out about meeting up with him. The fact Mina was throwing a few comments at you about him didn't help.

"I'm simply trying to understand what you find interesting in him," she groaned.

"He's done a lot for me since the incident, I owe him."

She sighed in despair. "Alright but if he breaks your heart like Chan did to me, don't be surprised!"

You also took the weekend as an opportunity to get to know your roommate and her relationship she had with Chan. It had taken a toll on her emotionally, so much that she had no intention in being polite with whatever — or whoever — that was in relation with him.

"Don't become besties with him or I'll seriously consider cutting you out of my life," she added.

You deadpanned at her. "You wouldn't actually."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course not but I wouldn't be happy with it."

With that being said, you left the apartment and made your way to Jisung's place with your bag hanging on your shoulder, full since it contained your belongings plus his clothes you had forgotten to give him back. You were starting to know your way around which you didn't consider as a good sign. This meant you were getting used to this place and it just couldn't be like this.

The moment you knocked on Jisung's front door, it slung open for him to welcome you with a smile. He had seemingly cleaned a little around but it was still messy, as expected.

"So, I looked up some stuff online and I'm surprised you didn't see what was on there. It looks like many people believe to have experienced it," he said before turning his laptop's screen to your direction.

"I did see those and it just sounds like people dreaming of another universe before "travelling". For me, I just tripped."

His shoulders dropped. "I see."

"I appreciate the effort, though," you reassured, feeling a bit bad.

He invited you to get to his room where he could make some more research on his PC while you'd have the bed to read the book comfortably. Before going there, he didn't forget to make some hot beverages for the two of you as you were expecting for this to last a long while.

His bed was as comfortable as you remembered, you had almost missed it. Not that your own bed in this world wasn't nice, it just felt a bit too firm. Jisung's, however, was soft and warm. As you began your reading session, the only thing you could hear was Jisung typing on his keyboard and clicking with his mouse. It wasn't annoying in itself, but it was too distracting for you to focus.

When you realized you had been reading the same sentence for the fifth time, you decided to do something about it. Getting up, you tapped on his shoulder which made him take his headphones off.

"Did you find something?" he immediately questioned but you shook your head.

"Your typing is kind of distracting on its own. Do you have music you can play in the background?"

He blinked a few times before nodding. "I was listening to my own stuff, actually."

Oh, right. Jisung was described as a struggling musician in the synopsis, you had almost forgotten about that. This suddenly made him all the more interesting than the search and he definitely saw it in your eyes. Hesitantly, he disconnected his headset and plugged his speakers in before opening his files. There were so many audiotapes, you were stunned. To think all of this were his creations.

"I don't think I've told you but the guys and I are music majors."

"You didn't tell me but I heard about it, yeah."

"Well, we've been experiencing with sounds and beats to find what fits us. This is all of it, pretty much. We're trying to make an actual career out of it but none of the calls we've made have come back," he said as he let out a heavy breath, one of disappointment. "I'm actually starting to consider giving up on that."

You scoffed. "Nonsense, you're great!"

"How do you know? You've never heard anything by me."

Not exactly. The clips of him in his room struggling to make music in the film had a few samples of his songs playing and you did remember them to be very good. Of course, he would never know this, so you had to lie.

"I haven't but I'm confident you're very talented."

He chuckled, embarrassed. "Now I'm just nervous to show you if you have such high expectations."

"Don't be."

He scrolled through his files for a bit in search of the perfect song to show you first. There were many that were done with the other guys. Still, he felt like he wanted to show something that was 100% him. Something raw that you could relate to. The cursor stopped for an instant on his track Alien. Considering the context, this must have been the fittest one for you. So he clicked on it, letting it play through the speakers.

And just as he thought, this could not have been a better choice. From the first note, you were entirely immersed into the melody, bopping your head along with it. And when he began to sing, damn you were melting. Not only were his lyrics so personal and true, his voice had a melodic effect that made you want to squeal. Seriously, why was he struggling with his career if this was what he was putting out?

When the song ended, the only thing you could do was let out an emotional sigh. "You, guys, have so much talent."

He scratched the side of his arm sheepishly before shaking his head. "That was just me," he corrected.

"All of it?" you asked with admiration.

"All of it, from the sound to the singing and the lyrics."

He wasn't one to brag usually, but if it impressed you and interested you, there was nothing wrong with showing off a little. This information had visibly made you more fascinated by his work and you didn't hesitate to steal his mouse and put the cursor over another track.

You did this for a while, playing one song after the other. You were as amazed as you were by the first one every single time. This eventually made Jisung so shy about his work, he had to force you to stop even if you argued you wanted to listen to more. Forcefully, he kept you away from his computer and put a random playlist on for what you had originally requested, which was ambiance music.

You crossed your arms and pouted. "Is it so bad to want to listen to raw talent?"

"When the artist is right in front of you, yes. Now, get back to work."

You snorted at him. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Nevertheless, you still opened the book and continued to read. The first couple of pages weren't telling anything new. It mostly consisted of summing up what was already known of travelling through the multiverse, meaning not much. Although the research this author made was impressive, this had in no way the exact thing you were looking for. And as your reading kept on going, the more discouraged you were growing. There was a point you thought of abandoning the book. However, there were still too many pages left to risk missing something out.

"Got anything?" Jisung finally spoke after about an hour of research.

"Nothing, what about you?"

"Apart from a few people on Reddit talking about their shifting experience in their sleep, nothing."

You scoffed. "Yeah, not relevant to my case."

You closed the book and let out a loud yawn, catching Jisung's attention. "Tired?"

"A little," you shrugged. "Are you?"

"No, but this is getting tiring if I'm being honest," he chuckled and you smiled as to affirm you agreed. "How about we take a break and order some food?"

"No need to ask me twice."

In the time of a heartbeat, he jumped off his chair and ran out of his room, leaving you chuckling at his demeanor. Jisung was cute, you couldn't argue with that. Even more so because he seemed to like food so much, something you could relate to yourself. Before he would come back, you decided to look around some more, although you had analyzed the place quite a lot on your first day here. His room was cleaner, probably because he knew in advance that you'd be coming. For once, his closet was wide open which gave you a good opportunity to check what he wore on the daily basis. While you had only seen him in casual clothing, what you could see through his clothes were great fashion items. A shelf was filled with different kinds of hats and a whole section was dedicated to jackets of all sorts.

"It's always the fictional characters," you muttered to yourself, thinking about how none of the men from your world had this much taste in their choice of wearing.

"Alright," a loud voice said while coming in the room, almost startling you.

Jisung, unlike what you thought he'd do, sat next to you with a few flyers in hands from restaurants around the neighbourhood. Ramen, sushi, BBQ, fried chicken; there were too many, you felt a bit overwhelmed at the options.

"What do you want?" you insisted on him choosing.

"We could go for ramen," he shrugged before composing the number to make his order. "What would you like?"

"Anything, I'm not picky."

He gave you a nod before focusing back on the call as it seemed that someone answered. "Is this Felix?"

Felix? Why the hell was he calling him all of the sudden?

"Hey, man, can I have two of my usual?" Jisung continued to speak. "In thirty? Okay, good... Yeah... I'll tell him... Bye," he ended the call.

"You called Felix?" you asked.

He frowned. "Yeah, obviously, he–" he was about to say until he realized you actually didn't know. "My bad," he coughed out, embarrassed. "He works at the best ramen place near campus so let's say I get a few free stuff when it's his shift."

"Oh, okay," you said with a nod.

An awkward silence settled as you noticed him starting to fiddled with the hem of his shirt, looking at anywhere but you. Although you always found him adorable when he got shy, you weren't going to let this be too uncomfortable for him. He was already helping you a lot, this was the least you could do.

"Do you want to watch something?"

He stopped his fiddling and looked up at you. "Do you think you have the same films and shows where you're from?"

You frowned. "Good question. Show me what you have and I'll tell you if it's the case."

He went to take his laptop and turn it on before sitting back next to you. He shyly gestured for you to get comfortable and lay with your back against the wall. You complied and, soon, he positioned himself next to you. You could see he was a bit nervous but he didn't let it show through too much. He was quick to open his Netflix account, which you thought was nice that the platform was here as well, and he scrolled through the few movies and series that were appearing. From the looks of it and based on his recommendations, he was watching a lot of anime movies and series.

"Yeah, it's very similar to what I have back home," you affirmed. "It's odd, how the hell is it the same?"

Jisung frowned as he also realized how bizarre it was. "Maybe you are in the same world as me?"

You shook your head. "How would you explain this other me having an entire different life than me while having the same name and the same bunny I have? Heck, she has the same parents."

Maybe you really did modify the movie by coming here. For the whole part of you having your own life, at least. As for the content of cinematography, it was logical that a movie would put the same cultural references to make more realistic to the audience. How were you going to explain this to Jisung, though?

"I don't think I have the brain to think about this too much, it's kind of freaking me out," he gulped. "I'm actually just starting to realize how fucked up your thing is..."

Your eyes went wide. "No, please, don't think I'm crazy..." you pleaded.

"I don't know, Y/N, this whole thing is weird as fuck."

"I swear I'm not making this up, I find it as bizarre as you do."

He shook his head. "No, I believe you. It's just, how the fuck?" he trailed off.

You only responded with a faint smile as to show him you weren't understanding this any more than he was. Thankfully, the moment wasn't long and you moved on by suggesting on watching a Ghibli movie. You loved them, he seemed to enjoy them, this was a perfect choice.

As the film was starting, the bell rang and Jisung paused it to go greet the delivery person, which you assumed to be Felix. You were confirmed to be right when the man himself walked in the room behind Jisung with two plastic bags. It took him a moment to take in your presence in his friend's bedroom.

"Damn, I knew this was going to happen after–"

He was interrupted mid-sentence when Jisung put his hand over his mouth. "Yes, this is a great reunion but we're just taking the food and you can be on your way."

"But–" Felix started when he managed to push the hand away, only to get cut off again.

"Felix," he gave him a look. "How much was it?"

Finally understanding he wouldn't get answers tonight, the two proceeded to payment while you watched them, still waiting patiently with the movie on pause. You chuckled upon seeing Jisung's slightly pink cheeks as he crawled back to your side with the food in hands.

"You two, lovebirds, enjoy your date," Felix said in a teasing voice before winking at Jisung.

As the boy left the flat, Jisung couldn't contain his embarrassment any more than this. "I swear to God I will kick his ass next time I see him," you hear him mumble under his breath.

You shrugged. "He has a point, it does look like a date night for a couple."

He cleared his throat. "I suppose it does a little... Anyway, this is what I got. I hope you like sea food."

"Not a favourite," you admitted which caused his shoulders to drop a bit. "I like it, though."

This seemed to cheer him back up and he happily took the bowls out of the bag. Next to his bed was a tray he kept close for occasions like these. Well, not the having-a-girl-over part but rather the watching-films-in-bed part.

"Fancy," you commented once he had everything settled and ready in front of you.

"Only the best for your stay here, miss," he joked and then proceeded to click on play.

You would've lied if you said the ramen wasn't good because this might have been the best meal you've had in years. It felt so perfect being in the comfort of a bed with hot soup while watching one of your favourite movies. Not only that, but there was this cute ass man next to you loving it as much as you were. This was quite a turn of events.

Jisung was a gentleman for taking your dishes out of the room after you were done enjoying the food. This meant that, for the remainder of the film, there was only a slight gap separating the two of you. Your focus no longer on eating, the only thing you could think of was the realization of Jisung's presence.

Needless to say, he was no better than you were. His eyes were still stuck on the screen but he could feel his head move instinctively towards your direction. It was much stronger than his free will, he was gravitating to you. As much as it scared the shit out of him, he was surprised to be loving it so much. You were easy to be around of, he didn't need to waste his social battery on you.

"Are you cold?" he asked as the characters on screen kept quiet for this scene.

You shivered a little, not having understood you were, in fact, cold. "A little."

"I- Do you... want to use the blanket?" he asked with uncertainty as he stared at the bedsheets beneath the both of you.

With a shy nod as a response, he invited you off the mattress so he could actually pull the covers down to allow you to make yourself comfortable. As you sat back down under the blankets, you stared at him in confusion upon noticing he sat still in a very stiff position on the covers of his side.

"This is ridiculous, come under here," you snorted at him but he didn't budge.

"That would be weird, wouldn't it?" he said in a small voice, making him too cute for your own sake.

"It is if you're making it weird. Don't question it, come on."

While your boldness took him aback for a second, he obliged the second after and, carefully, positioned himself in a much more comfortable way. Still, he was trying to draw himself away as far away from your body as possible. Of course, you understood the thought process of his actions but he was so far to the point he had to lean towards you to see the screen better. Even if you were thankful he was being respectful, this was simply ridiculous.

"Jisung," you sighed.

"What?"

Seeing that he wasn't moving a tiny bit, you took it upon yourself and scooted closer to his body, bringing the laptop with you before laying it on both of your legs. His body stiffed at the proximity and you thought of noticing him gulp.

"Is this okay?"

He looked back at you and nodded, his breath now cutting short from how close your faces were. If he had it in him, he would have kissed you right there and then. But sadly, this was not what happened and Jisung concentrated back to the movie.

A routine was set quite rapidly after that night. Every once in a while, Jisung would call you up so you could make some progress in your research — which I can affirm was not advancing as fast as you wanted it to — and also just hang out. Whether you wanted this to happen or not, you were close to him and he became someone dear to you. Two months and a half after your arrival and you were closer to him than anyone else even, you dared to think, anyone back home.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" you snorted at Mina as soon as she stepped foot in the office you and Seungmin were working in.

"Tonight is party time, baby," she cheered. "Soohee is hosting the event of the year."

You exchanged glances with Seungmin before looking back at her. "What does that even mean?"

She deadpanned at you. "Soohee, that senior in theater class."

"The girl you told me we should both hate because she got the spot you wanted in that play?"

"So you do listen!"

You rolled your eyes, resulting to Seungmin laughing. You ignored his antics. "What are you implying here, Mina?"

"You're coming."

"I'm not."

"Please!" she pleaded with a pout. "Seungmin can come as well if that can convince you."

He raised his hand in disapproval. "First of all, I am invited already. Second of all, do I have a say in this?"

"No," Mina replied with a cheeky smile. "Come, Y/N, please. I haven't been out with my favourite girl since her incident and I miss getting drunk with her."

"Yeah, you do owe her that," Seungmin agreed to which you answered with a glare.

"No one asked for your opinion."

"But it is greatly appreciated," she said with a wink.

Looking back and forth at the both of them, you let out a huge groan, dropping your arms on your sides. "Fine, you win. I guess it will help with getting my mind off work and all."

She squealed before rushing to you to engulf your body in a tight hug. It was obvious you were going to regret it but did you really have a choice at this point?

"I'm done in an hour, I can continue working on your file if you want to leave in advance to get ready," Seungmin offered much to your dismay.

Mina's eyes glowed at his suggestion. "You're an angel, thank you so much."

"Nonsense!" you exclaimed. "I'll finish up with you, you can't be doing all of this on your own."

Mina tugged your arm to get you up from your seat. "Y/N," she whined.

Seungmin chuckled at the interaction. "Go, I'll be fine," he assured.

"Okay," you said reluctantly with a grateful smile.

You and Mina then rushed out of the building back to your apartment. The time was only 4 o'clock in the afternoon, and the party wasn't going to start in another two hours or so. But Mina was insistant on getting you ready and gossiping. Yes, gossiping.

As she had just sat you down on a chair in front of the mirror in the bathroom, about to curl your hair, she was giving you a look you were not liking. "So?" she said while wiggling one of her eyebrows.

"What?" you responded cluelessly while sipping onto your bubble tea.

She gave you another knowing look. "Oh, please, don't act like you don't know what I am referring to."

"Jisung?"

"Obviously."

You sighed. "He's helping me with some work, nothing more."

"You could have asked me," she shrugged, insinuating how actually hurt she was for not being as close to you as she used to. "I'm great with school work."

"I know but Jisung is... He just knows some stuff."

She scoffed. "Sure, he does. Just admit you asked for his help because you like the boy."

You got flustered very easily, bending your head onwards a little. Mina immediately replaced your head so she could continue to style your hair, inevitably exchanging looks with her through the mirror.

"Y/N," she insisted once more.

"It's not like that."

"If you say so," she said although it was clear she wasn't believing you. "I'm just trying to warn you. These guys are no good news."

"You say this because of Chan."

"I'm not," she argued.

Whether she wanted to admit it or not, her feelings were only getting the best of her. In a way, you were glad she was trying her best to protect you. At the same time, you'd seen no sign as to why you should be wary of Jisung. So far, he was someone sincere and honest, someone you really could rely on. It was hard for you to even think of the possibility of him hurting you.

"What if I like him?" you questioned.

She pondered for a second, visibly troubled by your question, but she answered. "Then I'll be very sad for you."

The remainder of time before the party was a bit awkward. You silently agreed to not speak on the matter anymore, so it was mostly small talk about what kind of products she was using to make your skin glow. It was hard to deny, she had the trick in terms of getting ready for events.

After bickering for a while about what you were to wear, you settled on a casual shirt with jeans while she chose a skirt for herself. You weren't planning on staying there for that long, anyway.

"Bye, my love," you cooed at your rabbit, earning a heavy sigh from your friend. "Hey! Let me love my bunny!"

"Alright, alright," she rolled her eyes. "Come on, now. We don't want to be late."

Soohee was the kind of girl who'd get anything from her parents as long as she kept her grades up. She was an excellent student, meaning she had literally everything she'd ask for. One of them was to have her own house near campus. Yes, her parents were that rich.

So no need to say how stunned you were when you arrived in front of the literal mansion. The music playing inside could already be heard from where you were and you spotted many students walking in and out of the place. This was worth to be in a movie. Funny enough, it was a movie. You began to wonder if this party would occur in the actual film. Probably not, since Jisung wasn't the type of person to go out.

"You're looking gorgeous, ladies," you heard coming from your right.

You smiled at Seungmin before enveloping him into a hug. "You don't look too bad yourself, Mr. Kim," you complimented.

"So," he let out after breaking away from your embrace. "This is what the big deal is about."

"Fancy, isn't it?" Mina said excitedly. "Let's go inside, I need a good drink."

Before you could say something, she was already heading towards the entrance. You and Seungmin couldn't do anything else but follow her. While you didn't feel at ease so much, you were happy to see a familiar face as soon as you walked in.

"Hyunjin?" you called him out.

The man had his arm wrapped around Soohee's shoulder when he spotted you. "Hey! Y/N, right?"

"That's me," you chuckled.

Soohee looked back and forth at the two of you. "You two know each other?"

Hyunjin shrugged. "A friend of a friend of a friend... We met each other a couple of times, nothing more," he explained, seemingly trying to reassure his partner. "Y/N, this is my girlfriend Soohee."

"I know, you're kind of a big name around here," you said to the girl.

"Yeah," she said sheepishly. "Nice to meet you! Any friend of Hyunjin is welcomed here."

Mina nudged your arm, a sign she wasn't too fond of your newfound friend. Nonetheless, she greeted the girl happily as if they had been friends for years. She was a lot better than you in faking kindness.

"I'm glad to see you made it," Soohee said with a smile.

"I could not miss it for the world," Mina said through her teeth.

The couple left to greet more people coming in, leaving your trio together. Mina, who hadn't enjoyed this interaction, hurried herself to go get something to drink — you and Seungmin following her again. The counter had tons of sorts of drinks. Some had questionable colours but most looked tasty as hell. Assuming Mina knew what to take, you picked a cup of the same drink as hers. Seungmin went ahead with getting himself a beer from the cooler near the counter.

"That girl is so annoyingly nice, I hate it," Mina spat out in-between sips.

"Now, don't be so harsh on the girl. We're in her house after all," Seungmin tried to resonate her.

She shrugged. "Sure. Y/N, I'm going to the other room if you want to come with me."

"What other room?" you asked, confused.

"The room at the back is the biggest of the house where interesting stuff happen."

You looked at Seungmin for advice but he shrugged, letting you choose for the three of you. You ended up following her lead since she was the expert in social events like these. She was right, the room was so much bigger and organized as to make a few beer pong stations in the middle while couches were put against the wall for those who preferred sitting down. Mina didn't wait for you when she heard that a new game of beer pong was starting and she rushed to say she and you would play.

"Oh, great," you mumbled to yourself but Seungmin heard you as clear as day.

"Go have fun," he chuckled but received a glare from you.

"Seungmin, want to join our team?" Mina yelled out at him, causing him to sigh.

"Come on, let's go have fun," you copied him teasingly and it was his turn to glare at you.

You took his hand despite his protests and joined Mina at the table. She was already setting the cups ready for the game and you lost no time in giving her a hand.

"Oh, Y/N?" you heard a familiar voice say.

Looking up, you were pleasantly surprised to see Changbin grinning at you. "Hey, Bin."

At the sight of the man, Mina's eyes went wide open. "Fuck, don't tell me..."

The worst she was expecting happened when Chan joined his friend's side. He looked as troubled by Mina's presence as she was by his. You felt like you shouldn't be there, their staring contest was a bit much for you.

"Do you still want to play?" you asked her in a worried voice.

"Why wouldn't I want to play anymore?" Mina acted as if nothing was wrong.

Chan let out a chuckle. "Alright, if you say so."

"You don't believe me, Christopher?"

His jaw clenched but he remained calm. "I didn't say the opposite."

"You're missing a player," Seungmin pointed out.

"Are we?" Changbin cheekily said.

Almost on cue, another man joined the lot as he placed himself next to Chan. As soon as he saw you, Jisung froze. While he didn't want to come to this party originally, he certainly did not expect you to be there. Even less dressed up like you were. That shirt of yours exposed so much of your skin and curves, he could feel the sweat on his forehead.

"My bad," Seungmin said upon seeing Jisung.

Your gaze lingered on him for longer than it should. While it was the others' turn to play, the two of you were exchanging a few looks with each other. It was either funny faces or one of you mouthing something the other couldn't understand. At one point, you were growing frustrated to no be able to decipher what he was trying to tell you. He chuckled as he saw the frown form on your face.

"Cute," he mouthed but you were still clueless.

"Uh?"

Yeah, he gave up. You were not the best at lip-reading, it wasn't your fault. Instead of repeating himself like he had done for a while now, he winked at you. That was new. Not knowing how to react, your face went red as you attempted to look at anywhere but him. He grinned at himself, satisfied by your reaction. You were too adorable, he hated it.

Your team ended up losing, much to Mina's disappointment. The girl had drank so much from the game only, you were growing worried about her physical state. Despite that, her fury against Chan was much stronger than a couple of drinks and she rushed after him once the game was over.

"I should follow her, right?" you said to Seungmin.

"Yeah, definitely," he affirmed which was all it took for you to go after her.

As you got closer, you reached out to grab her wrist but she broke free harshly. "Christopher Bang Chan!" she called out.

You winced in embarrassment, feeling bad for her. Chan immediately turned around, eyes growing bigger while Mina threw herself onto him. Luckily, he was quick to catch her.

"Hey, maybe you should sit down for a minute, yeah?" he said softly to her but she was not listening.

"You're such an ass, embarrassing me all the fucking time," she claimed.

You felt a nudge on your arm and let out a sigh of relief when you saw Jisung by your side. You had been meaning to go see him once you made sure Mina was alright. Clearly, this was not how things were going.

"Maybe we should leave them some privacy," Jisung suggested.

"But Mina is obviously not okay," you argued.

"Chan is with her, it'll be fine."

He took your hand and, reluctantly, you agreed to follow him outside to get some fresh air. The night was just a little breezy, but it was perfect for this kind of social gathering. There was, unsurprisingly, an inground pool along with a jacuzzi and a few outdoor couches. A little fire was lit further away from the house where some guys you didn't know were conversing in laughs. You were glad to see that none of them had a drink nearby, meaning it wouldn't turn into a disaster.

Jisung led you to one of the couches and sat with you. You had not noticed until then but he brought you a drink along with his. You thanked him as he offered it to you and you sipped in silence while watching the other students mess around. Some couples were making out in front of everyone, groups of friend were dancing together, others were simply catching up... Somehow, it was calmer outside than what was happening in the house.

"I never thought I'd see you here," Jisung informed with a small laugh.

"I could say the same about you. What are you even doing here?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"Soohee has some friends who work in an entertainment company. Chan thought it'd be a good idea to make some contacts within the industry so we can get somewhere with our stuff," he explained without much enthusiasm.

"I suppose things are still not taking off?"

He scoffed with a small smile. "We've been putting music out for a while. Shouldn't we at least have established a bit of a fanbase yet?"

"I'm a fan," you grinned widely.

"It's different, the real Y/N wouldn't like our stuff. Besides, you're my friend. That doesn't count."

You tried to ignore the hurt his comment caused to your heart. "What tells you she wouldn't have liked it? And, sure, I'm your friend but I'm honest. I would have told you if your music was trash."

He smiled thankfully but you still saw a hint of sadness in his eyes. "I really appreciate it. Still, you're too nice and you might just be trying to cheer me up right now."

"Fine, guilty," you sighed. "I am trying to cheer you up but I'm sincere. I love your music."

He let out a heavy breath before taking your hand, rubbing the top of it softly with his thumb. "Thank you."

"It's nothing, I'm being truthful," you said while raising your shoulders.

"What about you? Why did you come here?" he said, letting go of your hand to take another sip of his drink.

You tried to hide the fact you missed his touch already and cleared your throat. "Mina."

This was all the explanation he needed. "She would have been too suspicious of you if you didn't go to a party with her at some point."

"I know, that makes me want to go home even more honestly."

He choked up on his drink at your statement. You panicked for a second, patting his back to make sure he was okay. Once his coughing stopped he looked at you right in the eye.

"That much?" he asked in an almost hurt voice.

You gibbered for a bit, unsure as to why he was reacting this way. "I mean, kind of? As much as I love it here, I do miss my family and my actual bed," you tried to joke but he didn't laugh with you.

"Minho's not working this Tuesday if you want to come at the library. We could do more digging into the books," he suggested.

"Oh, sure. Actually, that'd be perfect. Thank you, Ji."

Your smile pained him even more. Of course, he couldn't blame you for wanting to go back home, he would have felt the same. However, there was something about you he became addictive of. Whether it was your being, your presence, your ability to make him feel comfortable so easily... All of it became something he couldn't imagine losing. There was something else within you, a spark. The last time he saw one like it was with his mother.

"Hey," you called for him. "Are you okay?"

Remembering where he was, he gulped and got up. "Sorry, I have to go."

And just like that, he went back inside without a word. You watched him, confused, until his shadow disappeared among the other figures around him. You wanted to follow him but not knowing what had caused him to leave so abruptly held you off. Was he mad at you? And what for? You couldn't bear with imagining you had caused him pain. Hesitantly, you got up and walked towards the back door. Only, you never reached the back door.

"Ouch!" you yelled out when your body collided with a frame bigger than your own.

"Oh my Gosh, Y/N, I'm so sorry," the person immediately apologized.

While you had technically never met him before, you recognized Jeongin from the pictures in your phone. "No, don't worry about it. I wasn't looking."

"But I kind of spilled my drink on you," he chuckled, embarrassed. "And you spilled yours too."

You looked at your empty cup and groaned in annoyance. "Great."

"Do you want my hoodie to cover the stain?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, just give it back to me next time we see each other," he said with a bright smile. "Talking about that, I haven't seen you in a while."

You gratefully put his hoodie on and followed as he was walking back inside to get himself a new cup. "Yeah, I haven't been myself lately let's say."

"Beer? Punch? Sangria?" he asked while pointing at the different beverages.

"Sangria," you picked out and he gave it to you before picking one for himself.

"Yeah, Mina told me you had an amnesia episode or something?"

"Or something... I'm better now, though. Well, I think so."

He let out a laugh. "You do seem good. I assume you remembered me since you didn't look so confused when I went on about not having seen you in a while."

"Yeah, I do. It's a bit blurry but it's coming back to me slowly."

"Good, I'm glad. Did you go to a doctor to check it out?"

Oh. That was suspicious, wasn't it? Claiming to have amnesia without getting a professional to take a look at it. Your heart began to race as anxiety spread through your body. What if Jeongin was to uncover your act? What would happen then?

"I brought her to one the first day."

You thanked whoever who had brought Jisung near to save you. You wouldn't be able to explain how relieved you felt at this moment.

"Oh, that's good," Jeongin nodded. "Jisung, isn't it?"

He nodded. "Do you mind if I steal her from you?"

He sent the both of you a knowing look and didn't protest before walking away to elsewhere. As Jisung watched him leave, he sighed as he was about to nag you for not being careful. However, as soon as his focus was back on you, he froze in place when you dropped into his arms. It wasn't too noticeable but he could feel your body shaking.

"Thank fucking God, you were there," you breathed out. "I thought you were mad and I was going to look for you but I bumped into him and then I-"

"Hey," he stopped you. "I'm not mad at you, you don't have to explain anything to me." He pulled away from you but still had a grip on your shoulders. "How about we stick together for tonight?"

You nodded in agreement which he responded with his boxy smile. For a second — although it felt like minutes —, you couldn't see anything else but him. There was no way to describe how you felt around him. It was a mix of safety, happiness, comfort, nervosity, etc. All of these feelings, and more, altogether.

"You're pretty," you unconsciously let yourself slip out.

Jisung's cheeks had a faint pink colour to them but it didn't seem to bother him. "I think you're the pretty one between us," he corrected.

You shook your head and got closer to his face to inspect his features. "You're prettier," you affirmed once you analyzed his face.

He let a nervous laugh out. "Y/N..." he began, but didn't seem to find it in him to finish his sentence.

Your being brought him into a whole other world. If this was travelling universes, he'd want to do it all the time. This world only had you and him in it. Curiously, he was content with that idea. Somewhere where it could only be the two of you.

"Kiss me."

His brain short-circuited. A second ago, his mind was elsewhere, and now, you brought him back to reality in an instant. However, he still wasn't able to acknowledge people surrounding you. His sole focus was on the two words you said, and on your lips. Those pink lips he had always wished to kiss ever since that night when he saw you in his clothes. And you were demanding him to kiss you. Why couldn't he do it?

"Whoo!"

The loud scream coming from only a few meters away from you broke you out of your trance. Your gazes darted away from each other to find Minho, who was very much drunk, proudly showing his empty can to a group of girls after doing a shotgun.

The two of you, still holding onto each other, opted to go back to the main room in order to diffuse the weird tension between you. The sight you stumbled upon certainly was not what you thought of seeing any time soon. Chan was grabbing Mina by the waist, keeping her body close to his, as they kissed hungrily in the corner of the room. Near them was an annoyed Changbin, doing everything he could to avoid looking at the couple. The moment he spotted the two of you, he waved at you to come and join him.

"What's this about?" you asked, motioning towards your friends.

"Long story short, they left for a while and came back like this."

"Who would have thought she'd get laid with Chan?" you huffed.

Changbin glared at you. "Thank you for stating the obvious, Y/N."

Well, Changbin was being pretty sensitive tonight. It might have been the alcohol or the dislike he had for Mina. Anyhow, this looked pretty funny to you.

"The party's here, I see," Felix exclaimed as he joined you, bringing his arms around you and Jisung. "How are you, guys?"

"Tired," Changbin replied grumpily.

Hyunjin, Soohee, and Minho, who had all been following Felix, came to sit on the couch next to you. You had just then realized Seungmin was nowhere to be found, which was odd considering he wouldn't have been the kind to wander around too much.

"Soohee," Changbin called for the girl who broke her kiss with Hyunjin to look at him. "Did they say anything to you?"

You assumed he was referring to these friends of hers who worked in the music industry. Soohee clapped her hands together in response, a wide smile spread on her face.

"They've got a spot this summer for new producers and they told me they'll slide a word to their boss to give you the position," she squealed excitedly.

"You're kidding," Jisung said blankly, not believing her.

"I'm not!" she affirmed.

Jisung heard her right. Still, he couldn't fully process what she said. He had the chance to actually make a career out of his hobby. This felt so unreal, his face remained hard as stone, unable to express what he was feeling. Quite frankly, he didn't know what he was feeling himself. While the others around him were cheering happily about the excellent news, everything was a blur for him. Even if he couldn't be any happier, this also meant things were getting serious. Was he ready for this? He was still so young, maybe this was happening fast.

"Ji?" you said to him softly, noticing that he wasn't quite there.

"Uh?" he said while blinking slowly.

"You good?"

He swallowed and then stared back at you. "It's all a tad overwhelming," he admitted.

You gave him a reassuring smile before taking his hand. "How about we celebrate for now and worry about the rest later?"

This did the trick to bring him back fully from his thoughts and he finally allowed himself to cheer with the others. The first thing he did was bring your body into an embrace, holding you close. So close, you could feel his breath grazing the top of your ears, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Guys," Soohee said loudly enough to grab everyone's attention. "I have to precise, there is no certainty you'd be taken. But if you are, then don't mess it up. You've got one chance, and only one."

"Having the position or not, this is the furthest we've gotten so far," Chan answered. "Either way, this is accomplishment."

"I say we drink to this!"

You widened your eyes when you saw Seungmin leaning onto Jeongin as the both of them walked towards you. This was definitely not how you imagined Seungmin be by the end of the night. He was the last person who'd get drunk like this. However, nobody seemed to care and they all agreed to get themselves more alcohol for the occasion.

Meh, at this point, nothing was keeping you from having fun. Besides, Jisung was there. There was nothing to be worried about, as long as he was around to keep you safe.

You didn't know how long you had been drinking and dancing with Mina when you felt yourself getting dizzy. You tried to shake yourself out of your drunken state but there was no use, you had consumed more than needed. Although Mina wanted for you to keep partying with her, you had enough sanity to decline and make your way back to the couches.

The faint view you had in front of you was of a concerned Jisung discussing with Minho. As soon as his eyes laid on your clumsy self, he lost no time in holding onto you to keep yourself from tripping.

"Hey, there," he said softly before guiding you to sit down. "How about you take a little water break?"

You pfft at him. "Who needs water? It tastes like shit."

"I'm not giving you a choice."

Before you could argue, Minho — who you hadn't noticed had left — held a bottle in front of you. Jisung gave him a thankful nod as he took it from him and opened it for you. One would say you were acting like a child as he was trying to get you to drink. Your whines and uncoherent babbles were both concerning and cute to him. The pink that had appeared on your cheeks didn't help.

"It's near 3:00 A.M." he informed to nobody in particular.

"Wow, so early!" you exclaimed.

"You're right, I think it's time we get you home."

You frowned. "Get me home? You found a way to get me home?"

He shut his eyes close for a second. "Not like that, your other home."

You pouted. "But I miss my bed."

"I know you do. Now, can you be quieter? There are people around," he whispered in your ear which tickled it.

"Ji," you giggled and he sighed in exasperation.

"Chan, Changbin," he said to his friends who were standing next to you both. "I think we should leave."

"Finally!" Changbin said with a groan. "I'll get our stuff."

"And I'll get Mina," Chan said before wincing at the sight of his lover.

The girl had found her way to a table where she had let her body fall onto. Her face was inches away from a beer someone had left behind and you could see in her eyes how she was debating internally whether she should take it or not.

The boys had no problem with taking the both of you in Changbin's car and driving back to their place. Although the two other men argued on getting you to your apartment, Changbin just wanted to go back in the comfort of his room. Not that he didn't have fun that night but he was tired as hell. As he was the designated driver, his friends didn't protest any more and they drove home.

"Are you okay with her?" Chan asked Jisung in a concerned voice as they both helped you and Mina get inside.

"Take care of her, don't worry about us. I'll just help her get in bed," he assured and Chan gave him a nod before disappearing in his own room with Mina.

You were left in his care as Changbin had no worry other than going to sleep. You weren't heavy which made the task so much easier for Jisung. Even if you were still mumbling things he couldn't understand fully, you seemed much relaxed than back at Soohee's which he took as a good sign. He carefully laid you down on his bed, making sure he placed your head properly on the pillow.

"Jisung," you mumbled.

He instantly stopped moving you around and crouched to face you. "What is it? Do you need anything?"

"What if I can't get home?"

His heart stopped for a second. He knew you had worries because you still hadn't found a way to travel back to your world but he hadn't noticed how much it actually was affecting you. He was foolishly too focused on spending time with you to notice that. It was time he showed you what he found, he thought. He couldn't be this selfish any longer, it was hurting you.

"You'll find a way, I'm sure of it."

Of course, he was. He had already found it. He was just not ready to see you go yet. Yeah, he shouldn't have gotten so attached to you. But can you blame him? You were so warm and caring to him, it didn't take long for him to like you.

"I'm not so sure, myself," you began to cry and it broke his heart.

"Don't cry, it'll happen," he shushed you softly, rubbing your shoulder.

Without thinking (well, you weren't thinking at all under the influence of alcohol), you took his arm and pulled him closer clumsily. You somehow managed to get him on the mattress and you snuggled into his chest. You could tell he didn't know how to react but you couldn't care less. You were sobbing and in need of his warmth.

"Y/N," he said in a whisper.

"The thing is, I don't even know if I want to go back anymore," you continued to cry.

He was confused about your statement. "What do you mean?"

The rubs he was giving you on your back gave you goosebumps, you didn't know if you had the energy to keep yourself from spilling anything you'd regret the next day. "I mean that I like being here with you."

His breath increased. "I am fun to be around," he joked as to ignore what he knew you were insinuating.

"As in I like you."

Here, you said it. Fatigue mixed with drinking hadn't been of help with keeping this to yourself. Heck, you didn't even admit it to yourself and here you were declaring your crush on a fictional boy. This was ridiculous. However, your sober mind was not present. You would have to worry about that later.

In the meantime, Jisung couldn't find the words to respond to this. This was what he had hoped for in a while, you feeling the same towards him. Still, he knew as much as you that this couldn't happen. But fuck, he couldn't fake it any more. Not only that but he had also drank his fair share, he wasn't fully aware of himself either. That's why he wasn't able to stop himself from speaking his mind.

"I think I like you too."

Six simple words. And yet, that was all it took for something to snap in your head. Moving to be face to face with him, you pulled him by the collar of his shirt and crashed your lips on his. He was quick to match your movements and pace making your lips move in total sync. Even if this was wrong on so many levels, there wasn't anything that felt as right as this. It was almost like you were meant to be together like this.

Jisung swiftly pushed you to be on your back while he positioned himself on top of you, giving him better access to pepper your face with small pecks. As one of his hands stood next to your head to steady himself, the other had no problem exploring your curves, moving up and down from your waist to your hips. A few squeezes here and there, and you were gasping. You wanted more. Your fingers found their way underneath his shirt and you couldn't stop yourself from touching the skin of his abdomen. Fuck, since when was he so toned?

You felt him shiver under your touch and he growled before attacking your neck, sucking on your skin. You gasped and a moan escaped your mouth. This was definitely going to be visible tomorrow.

"Make that sound again," he said in a raspy voice and it made your mind go crazy.

As he sucked once more, you moaned again and you could tell he was having the time of his life getting you to make these noises for him. In a hurry, you took the hem of his shirt and pulled it up needily. You felt his lips form a smirk against your skin. In the time of a blink, he helped you remove his shirt which now left him totally exposed to you. Your eyes widened at the sight. You didn't know he had been working out, his proportions were insane. From his tiny waist to his prominent pecs to his massive arms; he was perfect.

It didn't take long for him to get your shirt off as well. What he hadn't expected was the lack of bra. He immediately became bright red from seeing your breast on full display in front of him. Although this was a view that took his breath away, it switched something in his mind. He suddenly realized what was happening, as if he was sobering up all of the sudden.

"Y/N," he said again, his voice now shaky. "I can't do this."

You frowned. "What? Why not?"

"We're both drunk, I can't possibly take advantage of you like this."

Before he could hear your complaints, he got off of you and back on his feet next to the bed. Carefully, he brought the covers over your body and tucked you in. While you were still pouting, something about him caring that much about your well-being made your stomach flip upside down. He placed a kiss on top of your head and was about to leave the room. Only, you didn't let him.

Grabbing his finger, you looked up at him. "Stay."

And to that, he couldn't say no. So he stayed.

You would have been much better if you hadn't woken up half-naked in Jisung's bed the next day. While you thought you were in the comfort of your dorm with Mina, the scent of Jisung was all over the covers, engulfing you in another type of comfort. In a way, you were glad it was in his home that you were. On the other hand, his shirtless body laying next to you sent you into panic mode real quick. You had no recalling on what happened after the whole gang began drinking like there was no tomorrow and, frankly, you wondered if you wanted to know what happened.

You sat straight up, pulling the blankets over your chest to cover your bare skin, but an intense headache suddenly hit you. You had forgotten how hangovers were this painful. No shit you weren't going out a lot. As you winced at the pain, a few images came back to you.

The first to hit was Jisung's lips on yours. You suddenly remembered how you had pulled him into a kiss after having cried in his arms in his room. It still wasn't clear why you were sad, but one thing was for sure: you fucked up big time.

Another image that hit you was Mina in a much worse state than yours. Chan had her in his arms while her face became so pale to the point it wasn't a skin colour anymore. Where was she even? Did she make it back home.

The final memory you got back was of you removing Jisung's shirt. Well, at least you knew who between the two of you had been needier than the other. You cursed at yourself, already regretting having allowed yourself to let go this much. This guy wasn't real, for fuck's sake. In no way could you even consider the option of having feelings for him.

Well, there wasn't any feelings, technically. It was only a bit of kissing and making out, nothing more.

"Good morning," a deep and raspy voice greeted you, making you almost jump out of bed.

Jisung stretched his arms out before yawning loudly. Once he opened his eyes fully, he was met with your panicked face. That automatically got him nervous and by the way you were shamefully covering yourself, he felt like nothing good was about to happen.

"Fuck," he cursed out in a whisper before rubbing his face with both hands.

"That's one word to describe it," you huffed shyly. "Do you remember what happened?"

He lifted his head up and perked an eyebrow. "Do you remember what happened?" When he saw you hesitate, he cursed again. "Shit, I'm so sorry."

"No, no," you immediately said. "I do remember most of it. Just, not in details, if that makes sense."

His shoulders relaxed but that didn't dismiss the worry spread on his face. "So, what now?"

"Good question."

You didn't dare looking at one another, you were both too ashamed for that. As you were trying to find the right thing to say next, a loud bang was heard from the kitchen. You determined the boys must have woken up after hearing Chan nag Changbin for being clumsy. You and Jisung exchanged an awkward chuckle but that was it. You still weren't able to say anything.

"What's up, guys! Woah," Chan coughed out when seeing your physical state and he closed the door right after. "Uh, so... I made breakfast if you're hungry."

"Thanks, we'll be out in a bit."

The footsteps faded away after a few seconds which was your cue you were back to the awkward moment with Jisung. He didn't seem any more comfortable than you and you began to question if he had any regrets. Obviously, you hated yourself for what occurred last night but you couldn't regret it. It was so passionate and intimate, you hadn't felt so much lust with someone in a long time.

Jisung was the first to finally move and he walked to his closet. Shamefully, you couldn't contain yourself from looking. His back was well-defined, he was like a sculpture. There was no way his body was this perfect.

"Here," he said before throwing a hoodie your way. "I figured mine would look better on you than Jeongin's."

He didn't let you say anything back and he was out the room the second later, lazily putting a shirt on as he walked to the kitchen. You were left dumbfounded as you stared at the piece of clothing in your hands. There was a hint of teasing and jealousy in his voice, you kind of liked it. It wasn't possible for you that he had noticed Jeongin's shirt so much that he'd mention it to you. It was one way to know he might have feelings similar to yours.

After shaking your mind off these thoughts, you threw the hoodie on and went to join the boys to go eat. As soon as you stepped inside the kitchen, your gaze found Mina's. She looked much better than last night, having found her colours a little. She waved at you happily before taking another bite of her toast.

"I didn't remember you coming here with us," you commented as you sat next to Jisung (which was oddly the last free seat).

"To be honest, I don't remember a thing," she laughed. "But I do know Chan and I made up so that is what matters." She leaned to kiss him and then smiled even more. "I heard the two of you had an exciting night."

Jisung choked on his juice, coughing loudly. You chuckled a little but that didn't prevent you from blushing either.

"I'm guessing Hannie finally made a move," Changbin teased his younger friend with a nudge.

"I'd be more prone to think Y/N did," Chan added.

Your face grew redder by the second. "Can we not talk about it?"

This seemed to do the job and the others kept their mouths shut for the rest of the breakfast, only discussing about Mina and Chan's reunion. While you tried your best to take part in the conversation, your shoulder barely touching Jisung's distracted you too much. Weird, no? Only a few hours earlier, you had no shame touching him but here you were, terrified by his mere presence.

"I'll walk you home," Jisung announced once you were both back in his room.

"I can walk by myself just fine, thank you," you turned him down as you grabbed the shirt you were wearing last night along with Jeongin's hoodie.

"I'm not offering," he insisted. "I need to make sure you get there safely."

"Mina and I will walk together," you insisted back, not understanding why he was being so stubborn.

This time, he admitted defeat and dropped himself on his bed. "Text me when you get home, at least?"

"I will."

It reassured him a bit as he smiled shyly. "I'll text you for Tuesday, also."

Oh, right, Tuesday. You almost forgot about it. With a small nod, you left his room and joined Mina at the front door. She and Chan exchanged knowing looks but you ignored them. Waving bye to your friends, you both took off to get back home.

Tuesday came sooner than you had wanted to. Jisung barely texted you, only a few times to let you know where he was at with his research. Other than that, the few past days had mostly consisted of you ranting about your complicated relationship to Seungmin. The poor guy hadn't asked for anything and here he was, forced to listen to your problems. He actually did not mind, he was simply not very expressive when it came to gossiping.

"Are you sure you don't have more files to work on?" you asked him once again.

He deadpanned at you. "Stop this, you're going to go there and face him."

You whined. "I don't want to."

"You have to."

"Can't you come with me?"

"No!"

You huffed in annoyance. "Are you really my friend?"

He rolled his eyes at your question. "You're being so dramatic. What is even the problem? You like him, he likes you; it should be easy."

You bit your lower lip down. "It's more complicated than that."

"Is it?"

It was no use trying to explain to him, that would involve outing you out and you couldn't risk it. So, you sucked your sappy self up and left the office, earning you a "there you go" from Seungmin. You were supposed to meet with Jisung an hour ago but you were too much of a scaredy cat to actually get to the library and you worked some more to buy yourself time. But Seungmin was right, you couldn't put it off any longer.

You were almost shaking when you found yourself in front of the library's door. From outside, you could see him through the window. He was doing nothing more than sorting books and scanning a couple of them but the sight of him was all you needed to make your heart beat ten times faster. Taking a deep breath in, you repeated to yourself this was no big deal. You were coming to see a friend, nothing more. You finally pushed the door open and walked to the front desk. As he had told you, Minho was nowhere in sight. His back was still facing you, meaning he hadn't noticed you yet.

"Just a moment and I'm all yours," he spoke as he finished up his task.

This was a simple phrase of politeness. And yet, the idea of him being yours briefly passed through your eyes. No, this was getting out of hand. You had to stop this behaviour.

As soon as he turned around, his mouth's shape changed into an "o". "I thought you bailed on me."

You scratched the side of your arm in shame. "I had extra work to do at the office."

"No, it's all good. I just thought-" he was about to say but paused before shaking his head. "Never mind. There aren't many students today so we should be fine in terms of discretion."

You nodded as you watched him walk around the counter. Did he really have to look that good in his red shirt? He seemed to have put much more effort in his appearance than usual. Nevertheless, this was not the time to check him out. You followed his steps towards a section in the back, one you hadn't explored yet. You were quite perplexed when he stopped in front of the fairy tale section and scrunched his nose while scanning through the books.

"Fairy tales?" you scoffed. "You must be joking."

He rolled his eyes as he pulled out one book. "Let me show you first."

"Well, sorry but this is not very promising."

He sent one more glare your way and began to flip the pages. "Don't be mad, I actually found this a while ago. I was afraid you-" he restrained himself from speaking again. "That you'd judge it because it is a fairy tale."

This was not what he wanted to say originally, you could easily tell but the way he cleared his throat. Even though you wanted to insist for him to spill it, he didn't let you by shoving a page in your face. You scrutinized the words attentively as you took the book from him. It might have been a fairy tale, a work of fiction, but the story was almost identical to how you arrived in this world.

Once upon a time, a princess lived in a castle. The girl loved her castle more than you could imagine. She was living a happy life on her own with the company of the animals of the forest. Some were big, some were small, but all loved the princess very much.

One day, the princess was reading a book like she would do every night before going to bed. The only difference was how marveled she was by its story. It told the journey of a boy living in the country, trying his best to live by his late mother's wishes despite not being very wealthy. Something about this boy moved her, she felt for him.

As she was about to go back to her chambers, one missed step on the stairs caused her to lose balance. In the snap of a finger, she tripped. Only, she never really fell. Once she opened her eyes, she was in a place she had never visited before. She was in a quaint little farm where a dozen of hens were greeting her with their clucks. Confused she was but these thoughts vanished when her gaze fell on a boy. She immediately knew who he was.

"How is this relevant?" you groaned, not understanding how he even thought this was anything close to what you had experienced.

"She tripped and found a boy, just like you," he pointed out. "You can skip to the last page, that's where it shows how she came back to her palace."

The boy invited the princess for dinner. It was not much, but it was all he could afford for her. He had cooked all of the dishes by himself, something he was quite proud of. He was hoping he would be proposing to the girl. Tonight was supposed to be the most gorgeous eclipse of their era, according to the village's sorcerer. He would not miss the opportunity to make the most of it.

When the princess arrived in the backyard of his home, her heart melted at how beautiful the boy had arranged the place. It was so simple but it felt like home. A blanket had been laid next to his family's tree and, on top, he had placed the food along with the best beverage he was capable of buying.

The night was perfect. The princess had fallen in love with this place, never wanting to leave. Especially not when she had just realized how fond she had grown of her new friend. Dare to say, she was smitten. As they were watching the last seconds of the eclipse, the boy gathered all of his courage and pulled the princess closer to him. With the shadow over them, they shared their very first kiss.

What they did not know was how this would also be their last. Slowly, the girl's figure began to fade away, vanishing into thin air. The panic on the boy's face was one she had never seen before, one of great pain. She was devasted, so was he. She then understood this was her time to come home. As she forced a smile through her tears, she mumbled the only phrase she had meant to tell him all along.

You shut the book closed, not wanting to read the rest. "Really? A stupid little story is the answer to my problem?"

Jisung almost shivered from how cold your tone was. He had never meant for you to think he wasn't taking you seriously, of course he was. In a way, he did understand why it seemed idiotic of him to show you this. But he knew this was your last hope. Everything you'd tried so far was a great failure. And since the moment you told him how homesick you were at the party, he now wanted nothing more but to make you happy. Even if it meant losing you.

"She was reading a book, you were watching a movie. She tripped, you tripped. She found a boy, you found me," he went on to explain. "And, if I'm not wrong, you fell in love with me like she did."

Your breath cut short. Was it so obvious? You did everything in your power to not let it show, even more to not let it happen. Apparently, love did not work like this and couldn't be helped. This whole thing was shitty, falling in love with someone you could never be with.

"You're wrong," you mumbled. "I care about you a lot, but I wouldn't call this love," you lied — apart when you said you cared about him.

He huffed. "What would you call what happened the other night, then? Because, for me, it looked a lot like it was a confession of your feelings. Unless you'd been leading me on."

It was your turn to huff. "You think I would stoop so low as to do something like this to you?"

"If it isn't because you love me, I don't know what it is."

Unexpectedly, heavy footsteps came your way, You both turned around to see Minho walking to you, red in his eyes. You glared at Jisung since you thought Minho wasn't supposed to be here in the first place.

"If you're to argue about your little love life, can you do it outside? I can hear you from the entrance."

"I thought you weren't working today," Jisung said with a frown, ignoring what his friend had complained about.

"I don't work tomorrow, I'm taking over for the evening today."

Shit, Jisung didn't look at the work sheet properly. Despite your dark eyes still on him, he grabbed your wrist and led you outside, apologizing quickly to Minho as you walked past him. You tried to break away but he was stronger than you were, leaving you no choice but to follow him. He ignored the beeping sound caused by the book you were still holding as you hadn't officially rented it. Once out of the library, he did not stop there. Instead, he continued to walk away leaving you as clueless as ever.

Finally, you began to piece things together when you saw where he was heading to. It didn't take you more than a minute or so to reach the football field, exactly where you had started bonding only two months ago.

"Okay, can you explain to me now?" he sighed, crossing his arms on his chest.

You massaged your wrist. "First off, ouch." He only rolled his eyes which kind of hurt you somehow. "Second off, there is nothing to explain."

"Almost sleeping together after you told me you like me isn't nothing," he persisted.

"Why does it matter?" you groaned, getting annoyed. "I'm to go back to my world, it wouldn't change anything."

"For me, it would."

"Why?"

He grunted in frustration before grabbing you by the shoulders, visibly not in control of his actions anymore. "Because I love you."

You stared at him in silence, mouth agape. You couldn't comprehend fully what he said. He couldn't possibly love you. And if he really did, this entire thing had taken a whole new turn you weren't sure you could handle.

"What?" you whispered, not finding the strength in you to speak loud enough.

"I love you," he repeated, loosening his grip on you. "I've never been the best in terms of opening up and all. But with you? This has never been so easy. There is something about you, a spark. It feels homey and safe. I find extreme comfort and reassurance just by your presence. Not only that, you understand me on so many levels, I wonder if you know me better than myself at times.

"And at the party... Fuck, Y/N, it was like you got me under a spell. I always needed to have an eye on you or I thought of suffocating. Then, when we were in my room, it broke my heart when you began saying you were afraid to never be able to leave."

You almost wanted to thank him for not referring again to the physical part of the whole thing, how you had almost given yourself to him. Despite that, this whole-hearted confession of his was no longer only about mere feelings he had. He actually loved you.

"I'm sorry," you mustered the energy to say.

What were you apologizing for? Even you didn't know. For letting him love you this much, probably. You were dying to tell him you felt the same but in no way was this how things were supposed to be. Loving each other was only going to cause you great pain.

"Tell me you felt something too, please," he pleaded, eyes watery.

You could feel the lump in your throat grow when you shook your head, refusing to tell him what he wanted to hear. That was what made him let go of you as he took a few steps back. You hurt him.

"I'm sorry for reading into things that weren't there," he pettily scoffed. "Read the rest," he motioned the book. "There's an eclipse this Saturday just so you know. Find a way to get back, but don't count on me helping you in this madness anymore."

He turned on his heels and walked off in a hurry pace, obviously wanting to get as far from you as possible. You wanted to call him out, cry, scream, anything. But nothing. Your body was limp and wasn't letting you express what you were feeling. Instead, you dropped on the bench next to you with the book on your thighs.

You opened it back to read the end. Just like you had anticipated, this was only heartbreaking to come to the conclusion neither characters saw each other again. This was what you wanted to avoid, live with an void in your heart because you fell in love with the protagonist.

You did everything to prevent it. But you failed.

Saturday was dangerously coming fast and your stubborn self was refusing to reach out to Jisung. He told you to find a solution on your own, that was what you had been doing. Nevertheless, the only remaining option was him. He had to be there.

You ended up telling the truth to Mina the night after your argument. It was inevitable, your emotionless stare outed you right away the moment she saw you. You couldn't hide it from her anymore. She took it better than you thought. Not only that, you also told her about the whole movie thing. She had been nothing but supportive, not even a bit bothered that she was fictional.

"Fictional or not, what I feel is real and that's what matters," she had answered when you asked why she remained this calm.

She was a bit of a replacement for Jisung, she was fully aware of that. But when it came to trying to get you home, she insisted the fairy tale wasn't just an odd coincidence. And that was why you were staring at your phone with nothing but fear.

"If you don't tell him to meet you at the park tonight, I will," Mina threatened, growing impatient as it had been almost ten minutes since you agreed to invite Jisung.

"He'll think I'm just using him to get home," you argued.

"I guess you are, but he won't care about that. If he loves you, it'll be stronger than his free will to come to your help."

You bit on your lip and finally picked the phone up. Opening your chat with Jisung, your fingers lingered above the keyboard. You knew what to say. The issue was how were you going to word it. After one last glance at Mina, you took a deep breath and began to type.

Y/N: Hey. How have you been?

No, this sounded too weird. It was obvious he hadn't been well, it'd be stupid to start the message like this.

Y/N: Hey! I know I haven't been exactly the greatest friend to you. You are right, I keep leading you on when I fully know that what we have can't even happen. It doesn't change the fact that I never wanted to hurt you intentionally and I am so sorry for the trouble I've caused. If you are still willing to forgive me, and maybe help me, meet me at 4 at the park where we met. There are many things I still need to tell you. I hope to see you there.

Sent. And now all you had left to do was wait. Mina hugged you tight as soon as you let go of the phone. You could tell she was proud, it felt nice to know she cared this much for you.

"If he does show up, does it mean I won't see you again?" Mina asked while still hugging you.

"Most likely, yes," you breathed out. "You'll have your Y/N back."

She chuckled. "She's not like you. Sure, I miss her, but it would have been better if having the two of you was an option."

It was your turn to laugh and you pulled away from the hug. "I promise I won't tell a soul about this," she affirmed.

You smiled gratefully. "Do you mind doing me one last favour?"

"Anything," she didn't hesitate to respond.

"One last makeover?"

The grin was all the answer you needed. You spend the afternoon doing some self-care activities while exchanging and laughing. She asked you some more about your own world and you answered. You hated to admit so but you were going to miss her. You never had one close friend in particular, it was always people scattered a bit everywhere without being so close to them. It was probably a sign you needed to bond more with your own friends.

That was if Jisung showed up. There was no telling when the next eclipse would happen so the option of staying here for much longer stayed in your mind vividly.

4 o'clock was approaching and Mina was still debating whether you should go for a dress or a jumpsuit. You let her have her fun when you heard the notification sound coming from your phone. You immediately rushed to see if Jisung had replied but you were left disappointed when you saw it was only a promotional text from some random company. Your message, however, had been read. But no reply.

Mina said nothing from seeing your sad face, but she came to show you the dress she chose. You were still amazed at how she always found the perfect combination for an outfit.

"Do you want me to come with you?" she offered but you shook your head.

"I'll be fine, but thank you."

She let you get changed and once you did so, the two of you sat in silence in your shared dining room. You were intensely staring at the clock and it was killing you how time seemed to pass by so slowly. Eventually, ten minutes before 4 o'clock came and it was time to head out.

Mina couldn't help herself but cry as she hugged you close to her. "Don't forget me, yeah?"

"I could never," you reassured. "And don't forget, the other Y/N is still me in a way. You haven't lost me completely."

She sniffled as she let go of your body. "Good luck with your man."

You gave her one last warm smile and you walked out the door. You sighed heavily as you walked down the stairs. This was already a day full of emotions, you weren't sure if you were ready for what would happen next. Either you'd be heartbroken Jisung didn't come or you'd have to leave him forever after finally telling him how you truly felt.

The walk to the park was quick and you were about a minute early. You walked to one of the swings and sat there, slowly swinging your body back and forth. You were glad the weather wasn't too cold since the dress wasn't exactly the warmest thing you could have worn.

Minutes passed, maybe even an hour. There was still no sign of Jisung. You began to think it was a bad idea to ask him to meet where his mother had died but you assumed it being the spot where you appeared would be an important factor to get back to your world. Perhaps he simply didn't want to see you again. You did hurt him a lot, it would be understandable.

You weren't counting the minutes anymore when you concluded he wouldn't come. Jumping onto your feet, you were on the verge of walking back to Mina but you stopped on your tracks stiffly.

He was there.

You couldn't quite believe what you were seeing. With only a lamppost nearby to illuminate your surroundings, his face was glowing. There was obvious resentment in his face but you could tell he was not as pissed as the last time you'd seen him. He gradually approached you while you remained hard as stone, unable to move. It was a miracle you were even breathing, in all honesty.

"I guess I still help you in the end," he began, avoiding your gaze.

"I thought you wouldn't come," you said with relief and he sadly laughed.

"You could call this a payback from when you arrived an hour late."

You felt even more relieved he was feeling comfortable enough to still joke a bit. However, you couldn't take his presence for granted. There must have been a reason for him to show up despite the hurt you'd done.

"Can I sit with you?" he gestured towards the swings and you nodded.

"I don't know where to start," you nervously chuckled. "I guess I can start with apologizing."

"That'd be a good start."

You cleared your throat, feeling a tad uneasy with how bizarre the tension was. "I'm sorry for not being truthful. I wasn't honest with a lot of things, including my feelings for you."

He frowned as it clearly quirked his attention. "What didn't you tell me?"

Even if his voice was shaky, it still held so much softness, as to not put pressure on you. If this was his goal, it worked. There was no turning back now.

"I don't have the proper words to put it out easily but I'll try my best. Remember how I've told you I was watching TV when the shift happened?"

His breath hitched. "What about it?"

"It might have been a film about you."

He didn't panic or get mad. In fact, it was quite opposite. He looked relieved and happy. You searched in his face any sign of anger but there was none, which left you more confused.

"Jisung?"

He let out a breathy laugh. "I kind of figured it out, I was just wondering if I was going crazy with this theory or not."

"What- Since when?"

"I'm not sure. It's like I've always known. Same as when you told me you were from another dimension, it just made sense for some reason."

You huffed. "How come are you so chill with it?"

He looked at you as if you had asked the dumbest question. "I might be fictional where you are but, here, I'm pretty fucking real. If I'm not, then I can't explain how I have all of these complicated thoughts and emotions when it comes to you."

You could feel yourself swoon at his words. "I don't want to leave suddenly," you confessed but he shook his head.

He stood up and stopped in front of you to take yours hands and get you up as well. Face to face, you could feel him exhale on your forehead. It felt nice to have his body close to yours again, like you had longed for it without knowing.

"You know you have to go."

You finally looked up at him. "No, I can stay. I get along just fine with Mina and the amnesia lie seems to be convincing everyone."

"Y/N, you already struggled with lying to me. How can you handle putting a façade up for the rest of your life?"

You wanted to scream at him, tell him how wrong he was. Accuse him of how low he thought of you by saying this. The truth was he was right. You knew deep down your place was not here. But just one thing was stopping you.

"But I love you," you mumbled as tears began to fall on your cheeks.

Jisung was surprisingly very sereine and he wiped your tears away with his thumbs. "There, you said it," he grinned victoriously.

You shoved him slightly. "Shut up."

He laughed again and damn was he pretty when he laughed. "That's all I wanted to hear, that you loved me too."

"If you love me, why should you let me go?"

He sighed as he rubbed your cheeks gently. He wasn't going to answer, you both knew it wasn't necessary. Nonetheless, it didn't mean it didn't hurt at all. It stabbed you like a knife. You had gotten so used to being around him. How were you going to deal in a world where he didn't exist?

"Can I kiss you?" he whispered even if his mouth had already had the time to get closer to yours.

It was all you needed to kiss him yourself, standing on your tippy toes to reach his level. It was just like you remembered it; sweet, tender, passionate. It was so addicting, you didn't want to imagine how breaking it would feel like. His hands let go of you to move on your hips before he pulled you even closer.

He didn't want to let go either.

You didn't notice he was crying as well until you reached your hand up to cup his cheek. It pained you more and more, and how you still were kissing him despite getting out of breath was a proof of it.

You both pull away eventually, even if it was clear as day both of you didn't want to. Jisung kept his forehead against yours and, without speaking a word, his gaze dove in yours. He wanted to remember your eyes, get one last good look at it. Because he knew what was already occurring right before his eyes.

"I'm leaving already, aren't I?" you cried out, as if you had read his mind.

"There's an eclipse, and I kissed you."

You nodded slowly and scanned your body. "It's a strange feeling."

He watched you slowly fading away and his heart clenched. "Think of me, please," he almost begged.

"Always," you smiled weakly. "I love you."

"I lo-"

And then nothing.

A loud music woke you up. Your eyes shot wide open as you gasped for air. Taking a look around you, you stood from the ground. Everything was exactly where it had been. The first thing you went to look for was your sweet rabbit. Her nose peeking from under the couch, she wasn't hard to miss.

"Hey, baby," you cooed as you picked her up. "For you, it's been a second, but I haven't seen your cute face in months!"

You carefully placed her back in her playpen. Once she was safe and sound, you finally allowed yourself to look at the screen. It was Jisung, having a blast at Soohee's party. You forced yourself to smile as you watched him hold tight onto a girl. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't finish this movie. Not any time soon, at least. Grabbing your remote, your turned the screen off and crashed on your couch.

It had been a while since you felt yourself relax. Still, the headache you had made you question if what you had experienced was a dream or not. You did wake up because of the music coming from the television. That meant it was very possible this was only a dream.

Either way, it was over now. You had gone back to your life and now you needed to call your workplace to inform them you would be coming in tomorrow in the end.

And tomorrow came as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary; work, eating, more work, and then back home again. It felt rather underwhelming after your journey with Jisung. Somehow, you couldn't get him out of your head, not even for a second to work correctly.

You were very much distracted. Too distracted. Frustrated, you let go of the soup you were slurping and walked to your room. Sitting down at your desk, you opened your laptop and began to look up Jisung's name. You hadn't even noted down the title of the movie, his name alone should do the job.

The moment you clicked on "enter", articles and websites flooded like a river. All of them about Han Jisung. It was him for real, with his actual name next to tons of pictures. So he wasn't fictional after all. Then, who the hell was he?

You scrolled down to find a recent article which mentioned the movie itself. Opening the link, you read it all so quickly. It said Jisung was, indeed, a young artist who had the chance to collaborate with many renowned producers to make a film about his struggles. His main purpose was to reach an audience who could relate to his pain and learn to get through struggles like he did.

You weren't sure what this was referring to since you technically didn't watch the film entirely. What caught your attention, however, was the final paragraph.

The singer has begun his promotion tour where he holds conferences concerning mental health in younger generations. He hopes to spread awareness as much as he can. To see him, his next seminar is to be held in Seoul the Thursday of next week.

You checked the date this article was published and thanked the universe that it was no older than a week. That meant the conference was tonight. You didn't know if it was a good idea but you still had so many questions about everything, you felt like getting the chance to speak to him might answer a few of them.

"Looks like I'll be spending $40 tonight," you groaned to yourself before opening the sign-up page to the event.

You were lucky it wasn't starting too early and that you still had two hours before it began. It was enough time for you to wash up, get changed and hop onto a bus that transported you all the way to the other side of the city.

One would call you crazy for going all the way in for this boy who probably had no idea you existed. But the memory of him was too fresh, it bothered you. You thought it'd help you to see him in person. That was not exactly how it went.

As the crowd settled comfortably on their seats, the host greeted the audience warmly. Needless to say, you were taken aback to see the man you grew to know as Chan on stage. This was surely the actor who played him.

"Hello, everyone," he waved with a bright smile. "My name is Bang Chan and I will be your presenter tonight."

Okay, this was getting weirder and weirder. First Jisung was a real person, but Chan as well?

"As you may know, I have contributed with the production of the movie Alien: I'm so lonely. The mastermind behind this work is my dear friend, Han Jisung. But you knew that, that's why you're here. I ask of you to be patient as him and I will discuss his journey on this project. Afterwards, you may ask your questions and Jisung with happily answer them. Please, welcome Han Jisung!"

The crowd applauded as he came on stage. He looked tinier and intimidated on this big stage in front of so many people. You were starting to question yourself if this was the same man you had in mind. But as soon as he flashed his smile, your heart skipped a beat. This was him. And visibly, these feelings were as strong as they were back in the movie's world.

"I'd like to think you all came here after enjoying my movie so I'd like to start with thanking you all for your support. It means a lot," he smiled before bowing.

The two men sat down and Chan was the one to initiate the discussion. "I had the pleasure to be part of your project but there are things that are still a mystery. The entire film is based on your own experience whether it is the loss of your mother, your struggle to make a name for yourself in the music industry as well as the mental struggles you had to face. However, there is one aspect that was never part of your actual life and it is the character of Y/N."

Your body stiffened. Had you heard him right? This had to be yet another disturbing coincidence, it wouldn't be logical otherwise. The real Jisung didn't know you.

"We're getting right away into your favourite part today, aren't we?" he chuckled uncomfortably. "I had a dream long ago. It consisted of my usual day-to-day life but this girl appeared out of nowhere. We went through everything together the way we did in the movie. It was only a dream but I woke up feeling empty. She wasn't real but she was present for me more than anyone."

"Are you saying you felt more connected to an imaginary friend than to your close ones?"

"Of course not," he scoffed. "I came around the idea she was a fragment of myself that represented my strength. I'd like to think she really existed, but I can't drive myself crazy over that."

The rest of their discussion was nothing but a distant sound to you. Plenty of possibilities about what occurred were now open and, quite frankly, it was giving you a headache. You had never met Jisung in this world, but maybe his other self was still a part of him. That, or you visited his dream and not the movie.

The two men discussed some more details for another hour. After what felt like an eternity, the question period finally arrived. You had forgotten all pre-prepared interrogations you had by then. Despite that, you were determined to, at least, speak to him once. Nervously, you raised your hand while he was already responding to someone.

"So yeah, I'd say my mother was the main reason why I wanted to make this film," he concluded his answer with a nod.

Chan looked among the audience and it was almost like he recognized you. With a knowing grin, he pointed at you. "Miss with the red shirt."

The crew member walked to you to give you a microphone and it abruptly hit you how unprepared you were for this. You gulped as you shakingly brought the mic closer to your mouth.

"I had a question concerning this Y/N character."

Jisung, on his side, looked a mess the instant he heard your voice. He went closer to your side of the stage while squinting in order to take a better look at who was talking. He would recognize that voice anywhere.

"Go ahead," he finally said.

"When you said she appeared out of nowhere in your dream, what did you mean by that?"

And once and for all, he got a good glimpse of you. The actress who played you looked nothing like you. She was no match compared with your soft features. That was why she was the only character he struggled to cast — besides the fact half of the cast was his actual friends playing themselves.

"I-" he pondered for a moment. "You know what? Can you come see me after the conference? I feel like this is not something I can answer in the span of two minutes."

Surprised, you didn't let it show and nodded as you sat back down. What were the odds for him to want to talk to you one on one? Like he had requested to, you remained seated when Chan dismissed the audience.

It wasn't long after that a security member came to fetch you. He guided you all the way to a room backstage. Only from afar, you saw Jisung talk with Chan. He looked disturbed and worried. You started to think it wasn't a good timing to interrupt him. However, before you could have a say in it, the security guy pushed you inside and closed the door.

You looked at anywhere but them, rocking your body back and forth to hide the nervousness. There was a long silence before Chan sighed in a discouraged way. Without saying a thing, he walked past you and left the room.

It was only you and him.

"Is your name Y/N by any chance?" Jisung broke the ice making you look at him. His eyes were filled with hope.

"It is," you confirmed and his body immediately relaxed.

"I don't want to sound too creepy or whatever but..." he hesitated a little as he bit his upper lip. "I feel like I've seen you before."

Your breath cut short. He remembered.

"I might have a similar feeling towards you."

This made his unsure expression break into a smile, which then made you smile. It was like meeting a friend you hadn't seen in years, except you saw this same guy only hours ago. Heck, you were kissing him.

"Do you have time to go out for dinner with me?"

His question might have made you happier than you were supposed to be but you didn't care one bit, and it didn't look like he did either. After you shyly nodded a yes, he walked your way and drowned you in a hug. You didn't fight back.

"I think I forgot to tell you something," he mumbled softly against your ear.

"What is it?" you responded in the same tone.

"You left before I could finish; I love you."

434 notes · View notes

doobea · 7 months

Text

BORN TO MAKE HISTORY - RIN ITOSHI

synopsis: After his brother takes a nasty fall and calls out before the new season starts, Rin has to step up as your new figure skating partner.

✰ ✰ ✰જ⁀➴ PLAYLIST.

contents: an ice skating au fic (very much yuri on ice inspired), fem!reader, ice skating terms and irl figures thrown around but not that super important, lmao probably inaccurate depictions of figure skating, sfw, kinda enemies to lovers but its really just rin being anti-social and cold, sae is a decent brother in here, characters are in their early-mid 20s, talks about ISU grand prix, mentions of mental health (depression, anxiety, burn out, imposter syndrome), heavy narration, rin centric, multiple parts will be added but no set scheduling of course word count: 4.3K (sigh there will be more) a/n: you know... whenever i feel like i hit a writer's block... thinking about rin always helps me break out of it so thank u...

For as long as Rin can remember, he's always followed in his brother's footsteps.

Whatever that meant being interested in the same shows, books, and sometimes even hobbies, Rin would always be one step behind. It was a long-time habit that he picked up ever since he was little. There was a small running joke that if you wanted to find Rin, all you needed to do was find Sae. If anyone were to ask him why, he would probably shrug and refuse to answer, though his parents would gush on about how much he looks up to his older brother, and… it’s not a complete tall tale.

His brother is talented and not in a ‘he can totally balance a stack of rocks in one try’ type of talented—though Rin is pretty sure that Sae can do that—but in a ‘he’s born with a natural gift to be absolutely perfect at everything he touches’ type of talented. So, regardless if Rin is always one step behind his brother, he knows deep down that it will always be Sae standing on the very top of the podium with a gold medal around his neck.

Sae delved into figure skating at the age of eight, and Rin quickly followed suit. It began on a family night in, the brothers gathered around their small, worn-out television, fixated on the Winter Olympics in muted colors. Although ice skating initially served as mere background noise while their mother knitted, they both felt an undeniable pull.

Rin was only thirteen when he first won silver at his junior debut competition. In that same year, Sae also moved up to the senior-level groups and gave his first professional appearance during the Japan Figure Skating Championships. Unsurprisingly to no one, Sae effortlessly won gold, putting the whole world on notice and overtaking the competition by over 40 points. From that moment forward, Sae was recruited by an international coach and was sent aboard to different training facilities.

It burned in Rin’s memories of all the irregular Facetime calls they would have of Sae giving him a walking tour of the cities he stayed in. New York was too loud and bright. Chongqing felt like something out of a fairytale and a cyberpunk city at the same time. Saint Petersburg was too cold but Sae liked grabbing pirozhki from a street food vendor before practice every morning. Despite being only two years older, he sometimes felt like he was worlds away from his brother’s place.

Still, after everything, Rin looks up to him. It doesn’t bother Rin that he’s always ‘second best’—according to those poorly written sports magazines—because this is something they can bond over, something that only they can understand.

And maybe this is Rin’s motivation to eventually surpass him.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t go exactly how he imagines it.

“You’re going to sub in for me.”

Sae is sitting up on his bed, his right leg bandaged tightly all the way up to his knee, and he’s saying this with his usual straight-laced expression. Their mother has always complained about being unable to read Sae’s emotions and Rin always thought it was pretty amusing growing up. But now, he finally understands what his mother was talking about.

Rin straightens his back in his seat, a colorful plastic chair from their childhood that’s now too small for a person his size, and almost drops his phone. “Did you hit your head too?”

His brother rolls his eyes and continues, “I know you’re taking a break this season but I promised one of my juniors that I would compete with them. Luckily,” and he points to his injured leg, “this isn’t a permanent issue but I think it’ll also be good for you.”

Sae’s injury happened during practice overseas at a training facility in Madrid. It’s a mild ankle and knee sprain from overexertion and stress factors from jumping too often. He was treated briefly before their parents suggested flying back to Japan to fully recover. It’s not uncommon for skaters to suffer from these types of injuries but why does Sae feel the need to bring Rin into this?

During last year’s Grand Prix Final, Rin had barely finished in the top ten. He fumbled with his short program and free skate, failed to land his quad jumps three times, and had a sloppy step sequence, both of which were supposed to be his strong suits. That day, he didn’t bother joining his coach at the kiss and tell, ignored all the swarming paparazzi self-proclaimed journalists, and uninstalled every social media app on his phone. His fans, coaches, and his family were all concerned as to how someone like him was able to fall that low compared to his higher-than-average stats. Rin had blamed it on something he can’t even remember, maybe a stomach bug, he thinks.

Obviously, that wasn’t the case, everyone could see right through the lie but not entirely the truth of it. News outlets flooded the market with headlines shaming him for not living up to his older brother’s standards, not being a good representative for his nation, and that it was all karma for having an ‘unbearable’ personality to work with. His coaches retired after his flimsy performance and all but two of his sponsorships dropped him. Rin hasn’t officially given out a statement regarding anything.

Depression is a hell of a thing to deal with. Rin’s dealt with it in the past when Sae first moved aboard. Luckily, Sae is perceptive to this kind of thing. The daily calls helped, despite the harsh timezone differences, and eventually Rin was able to move past it. The reality of it though, is that depression never really fades away, it’s almost like an addiction. Sometimes it takes hold in a moment of weakness, one that Rin doesn’t even realize he has until it’s too late. Maybe it’s all the rigorous training, all the comparisons to his brother—he tries not to think too much about it.

He didn’t know when the feeling hit him or why it decided to affect him that day.

For the past several months, he’s been spending time gliding around their local ice rink, teaching some kids on the side to keep his mind preoccupied because, if not that, then he’ll probably end up laying in his bed all day. It works and it’s at least a healthy distraction but, at the same time, he can’t shake the gnawing feeling in his chest every time someone mentions his last performance.

Rin feels like he’s hit a wall. A thick, towering, uninviting wall. And he doesn’t know if he’s ready to face his baggage yet.

“I’m not going to do that.” He finally answers and watches as his brother’s face stays unfazed.

“I need you to.” Sae presses on. “You need to get out of whatever rut you’re in. You’re not happy and going back might help. Forget about competing in singles and join pairs.”

Sae might be talented in everything else but, like Rin, he’s bad at choosing his words and comforting. Rin knows what he means though and he can’t exactly blame him. He’s lost weight, most of it being muscle, and whenever he does get back from work, Rin holes up in his room playing horror games all night long. Rinse and repeat.

At least there’s a level of concern and sincerity behind Sae’s tone, unlike the vulture-like glee from the tabloid reporters.

“I’m…” Rin’s throat feels heavy all of a sudden and he struggles to find an excuse.

Instead of answering, he fixates his attention back to his phone, it’s a news article about Sae’s injury and his withdrawal from the skating season. The article also has a photo of you posing next to his brother, elbow resting on his shoulder while your other hand raises a peace sign towards the camera. Rin hasn’t heard much about you, not that he actively keeps up with any of his competitors, but Sae has mentioned your name here and there before since you both share the same coach.

From what Rin knows, you started skating around the same age as him. You won a few local competitions and managed a bronze medal in the women’s singles category during the Japan Skating Championships. Supposedly, this year you’re attempting to take a shot at qualifying for the Grand Prix Final for pairs. With Sae out of the picture, Rin really hopes the responsibility doesn’t fall on him.

The look that Sae is currently shooting at him is making him backtrack his thoughts.

“It’ll be good for you,” his brother reiterates. Sae scoots closer to the edge and plucks the phone out of Rin’s grasp. “Plus, I already told her that you would do it.”

Rin’s eyes widen. “You did what?”

Sae hums, and taps his fingers away at the screen, before handing it back to him with your contact information placed in. “She’s actually on her way over here.”

“I haven’t even—”

Sae throws a hand up. “No, you don’t get a choice, Rin.”

Despite being three years younger than Sae, you had no issues barging into his room, suitcase in hand and hair in a frenzy. Rin is still seated, having to process his brother’s ridiculous request and now having to make himself semi-presentable to you. He also eyes the suitcase because… there’s no way that you’re actually staying with them right?

“Hope the flight here wasn’t too rough,” His brother starts casually.

Your cheeks are puffed out, eyes slightly baggy from the presumably restless flight, and you let out an exasperated sigh. “I hope you know that I didn’t tell coach about any of this.”

“Any of what?” Sae asks slowly. Now Rin is internally panicking.

Your eyes fall on him and they sparkle in recognition for a brief moment before you turn your attention back to his brother. “Um, that I flew all the way from Madrid to Tokyo?”

“I thought you said he approved of it.” Sae looks visibly annoyed.

You give a sheepish shrug and try to smile. “Yeah, I might’ve lied a bit.” It looks like you can’t decide if you want to be embarrassed by this fact or want to burst into tears.

Now it’s Sae’s turn to sigh. “Well, you’re already here so there’s no point. I’ll come up with something if Ego asks.”

You’ve made yourself practically at home within the next hour. Sae had told you that you could transform their home office space into your bedroom for the next several months in preparation for the competition, much to Rin’s protests. Right now, your makeshift living space composes of a shitty air mattress that Rin had in his closet since childhood and one of Sae’s extra pillows and blankets. You still need an actual mattress and a bedframe, and Rin doesn’t know if he wants to suggest the local hardware shop down the street. Because, if he does do that, it’ll mean he’ll be accepting his fate for the next upcoming year.

“Are you guys both hungry for dinner? I can whip up something real quick!” You’re saying this as if you’ve been living with them forever. It throws Rin off but Sae is unphased by your informality.

“Pork katsu curry sounds nice.” Sae muses from the living room couch. He’s streaming a figure skating compilation video from the previous Winter Olympics on the TV while jotting down some notes on his phone. “Why don’t you help her out, Rin?”

“Do I have to?”

“Yeah,” and Sae lifts his eyes away from the screen to give him a knowing look. “You have to.”

Three protein shakes. A pack of half-eaten grapes. And two boxes of forgotten leftovers from god knows how long ago. There’s not much in Rin’s fridge. His parents have been traveling around the world ever since he got back and usually, Rin would just get himself takeout to save some time. When he rummages through his pantry, he almost feels embarrassed by how barren it feels. A box of cup ramen, some curry cubes, and a small bag of rice on the bottom. It would honestly be better just to order takeout than to bother cooking up something less satisfying.

“We should—”

“Let’s go to the store!” Of course, you offer that up. Rin can feel his shoulders immediately tensing when he sees you grabbing your jacket and wallet.

Sae throws him another penetrating gaze and Rin recedes. “Give me a second.” And maybe a drink or two.

You’re the complete opposite of what Rin expected.

Bright, bubbly, and almost downright annoying. It reminds him of how he used to act when he was younger.

The first few minutes of the walk are silent not because Rin doesn’t know what to say but because he doesn’t want to say anything. His mind drifts off to an MMO he’s been currently playing with two of his ‘friends’ that he made during his last competition — if you count only exchanging numbers for the sake of playing games and talking about nothing else. That’s what friends do, right? It’s evening and, if it weren’t for Sae and you, he could be online right now, clearing a dungeon with them. This week is a double drop event and he’s going to miss out on it because you want to buy katsu curry ingredients.

After passing the third block in the neighborhood, you start to see a few local shops and grocery stores lined up down an alleyway. There are more locals around, some are walking their dogs, others sweeping the sides of their house entrances. You decide to take this time to finally talk to him.

“Who’s your favorite skater?” It comes out as a blurt like you’ve been holding it in.

Rin blinks. “What kind of question is that?”

“A normal one,” You pick up a small shopping cart by the entrance and make a beeline towards the produce section. “Plus it can tell you a lot about a person.”

Can it really? “You first then,” Rin tells you.

You answer without much thought, throwing a couple of apples and potatoes into the cart. “Has to be Nathan Chen! He’s super bold and flashy with his programs.” He’s heard of him before, Rin thinks he’s around the same age as his brother.

“Yuzuru Hanyu.” He answers right after.

You make a noise, and Rin assumes it’s a good one by the way you’re smiling. “I can definitely see that, he’s really elegant when he skates.”

The two of you fall silent again but it’s a bit bearable. You finish off by buying pork, onions, and a few soft drinks before heading over to the self-checkout. Rin pays for the entirety of the grocery run since it’s mainly his fault for having an empty fridge. If he had kept up with a healthier lifestyle then maybe he wouldn’t be in this current mess.

Dinner, for all things considered, doesn’t go horribly. It’s been months since Rin has picked up a knife, let alone use his cutting board, and you’re nice enough to show him how to properly score meat. And yeah, he just learned what scoring meant outside of sports. He’s learning a lot today.

Adding apple chunks to the curry really made an immense difference. Tastes a lot sweeter but also comforting. The pork comes out crispy and tender enough for him to easily bite through and practically melts on his tongue. Maybe he should get back into cooking soon.

Sae wipes his mouth before setting down his utensils. “I’ve also taken the liberty to coach you guys too, so don’t let me down.”

You blink. Rin looks like he’s going to drop his fork on his plate. He seems to catch himself though, and for just a moment. Your heads both tip to the side, and there’s a strange moment of eye contact, one where you are nervously glancing at Sae, and Sae is caught in a strange back-and-forth with Rin.

Yeah, Rin is learning more today compared to the average person.

The next day at the ice rink is a surreal experience for Rin. A year ago, when he did skate professionally, he was used to practicing alone or occasionally sharing the rink with a few other skaters, but now there's a new dynamic—a pair dynamic. You and him. The thought alone sends shivers down his spine, and not the good kind.

Sae is sitting on the side, his injured leg propped up on a chair, and he's observing with a critical eye. Rin can feel the pressure, not just from the expectation of his brother, but also from the fact that you're now involved. His comfort zone has been invaded.

“Let's start with some basic warm-up moves,” Sae suggests, and Rin reluctantly nods.

The two of you glide on the ice, trying to synchronize your movements to a random classical tune that his brother placed on shuffle. Claire de Lune—he’s warmed up to this song plenty of times before. It's awkward at first, the pacing and speed is off, and you’re both too tensed to initiate physical contact.

“You need to trust each other,” Sae instructs, his voice echoing in the cold rink.

Rin shoots him a dirty glare. Trust has never been his strong suit, especially not with someone new.

You decide to break the ice, quite literally, by attempting a lift. Rin braces himself as you come at him with speed, and then, in a moment that feels like slow motion, he lifts you off the ground. Success. You're now spinning in the air, and Rin is holding his breath, hoping he doesn't drop you.

“That was good, Rin!” you exclaim when you land back on the ice.

He's slightly out of breath, both from the physical exertion and the anxiety that came with it. “Yeah, great,” he mutters, avoiding eye contact.

After what seems like an eternity, Rin begins to find a rhythm. It's still not perfect, he’s not used to skinship so he can tell his grip around you is either too firm or barely there. Sae’s a rough teacher and quite possibly the king at micromanaging, the two of you bond quietly over the fact. Rin also learns that you’re pretty good at hydroblading and the Biellmann spin. Well, you’re pretty good at a lot of things. He’s surprised that you haven’t tried out for more international competitions prior.

By the end of the day, both of you are exhausted—well, you look fine, it’s more like Rin feels like his quads are about to burn off. This is the most he’s done physically and with his career in the last several months. Sae, with his usual unreadable expression, nods approvingly.

“You’ve got potential,” he comments, and Rin is unsure if it's a compliment or just a statement of fact. “So, what’s the theme?”

Right. They need to figure out that first before deciding on anything else. Rin has always struggled with coming up with themes and settles with essentially the same one every year since he feels comfortable with it. The past years he’s played around with ‘solitude’, ‘dormant’, and ‘night’—and all of his programs contained dark, moody instrumentals that went along with it.

You’re shuffling awkwardly by the benches, fiddling with your gym bag, and raise a hesitant hand. “How do we feel about ‘love’?”

Rin tightens his lips. “Isn’t that kind of vague?”

“Weren’t all of your themes the same?” Sae shoots back and it makes him quiet. “What songs did you have in mind?”

You’re quick to pull out your phone, a playlist pops up with songs that you’ve either wanted to skate or skated to. The song choices aren’t bad, most of them being soundtracks from musicals and pop artists.

“This Love.”

Rin lets out a loud scoff. “Guess you’re into that sappy stuff.” He remembers one of his skating colleagues was floating around the idea of skating to that song when they first jumped into a relationship but decided to shelve it once they found another person.

“It’s a good song,” You say with a huff, to which Rin only rolls his eyes.

“Guys,” Sae claps his hands three times, a signal that Rin recognizes from his earlier childhood days of basically saying ‘shut the fuck up’. “I need you to work together.”

Your index finger jabs into Rin’s ribcage. He manages to hold back every fiber in his body to not yell at you, especially not when Sae is staring right at him. “If you’re going to make a comeback, I think maybe you should get back on social media again to promote!”

“I’ll sleep on it.” He says with a clenched jaw and furrowed brow.

“We’ll see you later back home, gonna do a couple of laps around the neighborhood before we end the night.” You’re lacing up your sneakers while Sae grabs his car keys. Rin assumes his brother is just going to be ‘encouraging you’ from the driver’s seat. Classic big brother move.

“Sure thing,” It’s the tone that says he’s decided. He’s done. End of discussion. Rin just really wants to lay in his bed right now.

As he walks home, Rin mulls over your suggestion and decides to reinstall some of his social media apps. Surprisingly enough, he still remembers his passwords (he definitely does not have the same password for everything, nope) and immediately logs onto Instagram, fighting back the weird twists and turns in his stomach as the app slowly loads.

There are maybe over a hundred notifications in his DMs, most of which are from random strangers giving half-assed ‘advice’ on how he can be a better skater and some messages from people he’s skated against asking how he was doing. He starts from the bottom of his inbox and recognizes a few of their usernames.

itsyoiboi — sent ten months ago are you doing alright? let me know if you need anything

hyo.chigiri — sent nine months ago Just checking up on you. Coach told me that you left.

megugu_skates— sent nine months ago (。┰ω┰。) rinrinrin!! dont tell me ur quitting for good?? =͟͟͞͞ =͟͟͞͞ ﾍ ( ´ Д `)ﾉ (⋟﹏⋞) u have to come back!!

baroushouei — sent eight months ago Hey, get your head out of your ass. We’re all worried about you.

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. Rin semi-appericates the sentiment but he didn’t ask for it. He doesn’t need any of them checking up on him for the sake of it. None of them were ever close to him so why bother?

He eventually reaches back to the top of his inbox. What Rin didn’t expect was to see a message from you.

yn.is.here — sent a week ago um hi there!! sorry we haven’t officially met before but your brother said you’ll be able to help me compete in skate pairs?? he told me that you’re thinking about coming back this season. sorry if this comes off as weird!

Ugh, of course, his brother would plan this whole thing behind his back. It doesn’t surprise him, and it explains why any of this is happening.

When he finally gets back home, he kicks off his shoes and heads straight to his bedroom. Rin plops and eases his back into the mattress, thumb rummaging through his photo album and trying to find a dumb professional photo to post on his page for stupid promotion purposes. He’s about to pick out an old photo from nearly two years ago when your text notification pops up. You sent over ten attachments—guess Sae took photos and videos from today’s practice run.

Rin shifts through the options before settling on a photo with the two of you in it. You’re both gliding side by side, hands barely touching. He looks scruffy, well he looks scruffy in all of them, the smile he tried to make came out more like a scowl, while you look like a complete natural—what’s new? On top of his skating, Rin needs to work on smiling and his skincare routine next.

Rin uploads the picture with a simple caption, ‘im back’, and turns off his notifications. He’ll worry about the lousy reporters tomorrow morning.

[DISCUSSION THREAD] Rin Itoshi's Icy Resurgence, Unraveling the Mystery Girl, and the Journey Without His Brother by [MOD] Dooby

In the world of figure skating, Rin Itoshi is no stranger to both triumphs and challenges. The seasoned skater, known for his graceful performances and technical prowess, recently made headlines by returning to the ice after a brief hiatus. Taking the place of his brother in the figure skating pairs category, Rin has partnered with the talented and rising star, Y/N, to form an unexpected yet promising duo.

[yurio.fan.cl0b] - 17 minutes ago he’s going to make an embarrassment out of himself AGAIN just go back into hiding [VICChan] - 15 minutes ago Lololol he thinks that piggybacking off another skater it’ll guarantee a gold medal lolol who is even y/n anyway… never heard of her???? [porkkatsu] - 14 minutes ago shes a nobody just like rin *shrugs* [ISAGINUMBERONE] - 12 minutes ago ^ been a rin itoshi fan since day one — i believe that he’ll make a great comeback!! rin if you’re reading this please ignore the haters! [itsJJStyleX0X0] - 9 minutes ago are you actually an idiot? there’s no way that they’re going to take gold, not at the level he’s currently at. compared to his brother, rin’s past performance was sloppy and weak. if he’s going to win gold then he’ll probably end up doping himself [SaeItoshisWIFE] - 7 minutes ago Can we please refrain from spreading rumors like this? Doping is a serious accusation to make…

next rink!

a/n: ok... i meant to keep this in my drafts until i finish it but then i realized it would've been like... way too long with the number of scenes i wanted to write.... so here's some content until the next part bleh >:(( i need to fixate on one project at a time but at the same time i love sharing stuff w you guys haha

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock imagines #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x female reader #heavily inspired by yuri on ice duh #rin is katsuki yuri here (kinda)#also posted during the grand prix figure skating comp!!#cw: depression #cw: mental health

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satorusugurugurl · 14 days

Note

Never got a request for them you say…

I know i request way to fucking much but I can’t help myself I love ur writing🫶

Butttt hear me out adult trio gojo geto shoko with fem reader. I’m thinking professional reader, who has an exhausting but rewarding job comes home exhausted, but her 3 lovers cheer her right up <333

Could be fluff or smut, I just need them in my life Fr

-🍭

Welcome Home!

Character: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Shoko Ieiri, FAB!Reader

Word Count; 2,853

Warning: overworked reader, nipple play, oral sex, praising, making out, achohol consumption, Geto in a fucking apron has me FERAL

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I had lots of fun with this one 🥵🌶 Spicy loved it 1000000/10 would recommend.

Everything hurt, from your feet to your back, as you exited your car, the garage shutting behind you. You had been gone for twelve hours, leaving at six and getting home when you'd left this morning. But you couldn't complain. Your business had taken off, and as CEO, you had responsibilities to take care of, which tended to keep you away from home longer than you'd like, but the paycheck was worth it.

You had started your own candle company in college. Book tropes, characters, and television series inspired the candles you made. Your shop had been small, and you were content with that. Until your partners suggested advertising on social media, reaching out to authors, broadening your horizons. You hadn't expected much, maybe a couple of dozen more orders, a few rejection letters from said authors. What you hadn't been expecting was for your products to go viral, and several authors jumped at the opportunity to commission you for custom character candles.

Your tiny little shop became a big-time shop so fast it had your head spinning. You shipped orders worldwide, made custom customer orders, and were featured on several podcasts. Your company was close to being a multimillion-dollar company with several locations. While exciting, and you didn't need to worry about money, it was exhausting. Long hours, dozens of meetings, and business trips were your new norm; it came with the title CEO. You loved your job! There was, however, one downside.

You missed the fuck out of your partners.

With your position, you could take care of the house payment and utilities. Allowing your partners to do whatever they want without worry. Shoko was studying to become a surgeon, Geto was working on a novel, and Satoru was your biggest investor; seeing as he was from a wealthy family, he could do what he wanted. And what he wanted was to help your company grow. Things were perfect; it justified you working so hard all the time. Some days were more exhausting than others, but it was also gratifying. Your partners could pursue their dreams, and as long as they were happy, so were you.

”I’m home.” You announced mid-yawn, removing your heels and setting them to the side. You ventured into the living room. The condo was clean and tidy, as per usual, thanks to your amazing partners. They took such good care of the house when you were gone.

“Welcome home.” Suguru greeted you from the kitchen. Both the mouth-watering aroma of prepared food and the sexy man stopped you in your tracks. “Thank you for all of your hard work today, Princess.” He wore gray sweatpants, his hair pulled into his signature half up half down style.

The best part of his whole outfit was the apron. Good god, it was illegal! The black apron went around his neck and tied firmly around his waist. It read, ‘My meat is 100% Going In Your Mouth’. It was a gag gift, one you’d need to thank Satoru for purchasing. Suguru was wiping his damp hands on it as he made his way around the island, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.

You melted in his embrace, your arms snaking around him as he kissed the top of your head. “Thank you. It’s good to be back.” You sniffed at the air, happily groaning at the scent of food. “That smells absolutely amazing, Sugu!”

“You had a long day, so I made one of your favorites.” You followed him into the kitchen, staring at the four neatly prepared plates of perfectly prepared katsudon and fluffy white rice. ”I was finishing up the salad. It should be done in a few minutes.”

A warm body pressed against your back; the smell of clean linen and musk followed the body's movements behind you as Satoru rested his chin on your shoulder. “I hope so, I’m starving.” The whiny tone that resonated from Satoru had Suguru rolling his eyes at his antics as he chopped up lettuce. “But not as hungry as you probably are. You busted your ass today, as usual.” Soft lips peppered your cheek with kisses.

“It was a very long day.” You reached forward, grabbing a slice of cucumber off the cutting board and popping it in your mouth. “But it’s well worth it.”

“Long day; I guess this calls for some sake,” Shoko added, handing you a glass of chilled peach sake.

You took a long sip, humming at the sweet taste that danced over your tastebuds. “Shoko, what would I do without you?” Your exhausted-looking girlfriend took a long sip of her drink before pressing a kiss against your lips.

”You would be stuck with these two idiots.”

“Hey!”

Satoru pouted, while Suguru just shook his head with an unbothered chuckle. The carefree atmosphere and warm aura had you relaxing, the tension leaving your shoulders as the four of you sat down for dinner. While you ate and conversed with them, your partners looked you over while you weren’t paying them attention. Suguru took note of the dark circles under your eyes before looking at Satoru from his peripheral vision. He had noticed the circles along with how your skin appeared paler tonight. Dark and blue-hued eyes focused on Shoko. Her dark brown eyes examined you as she would a patient.

The three of them reached the same conclusion: you were exhausted, burning the candle at both ends. They knew very well how seriously you took your job; your work ethic was nothing to be sneezed at. No matter how sick or tired you were, you constantly pushed yourself to do more, to provide for them. Your motivation was fueled by positive forces, and there was nothing wrong with being driven by a goal.

However, the moment your goal began to run you down, that’s when you had a problem. You needed a break—some time to rest properly and recuperate. The three of them set their plan into action just with mirror eye contact.

“All right,” Suguru stood, collecting the dishes off the table, “Satoru and I will clean the kitchen. Shoko, why don't you take our sweet girl and get her relaxed?”

“Oh, don't be silly, I can help.” You followed them, collecting dishes that were snatched away from you by Satoru. “Hey, I can help!”

Shoko gently grabbed your hand, her slender, delicate fingers interlacing with yours, pulling you towards the bedroom. “It’s not a matter of you being able to help or not; we all know you’re perfectly capable of that.” Shoko gently squeezed your hand before pushing you back against the bed. “It’s more of a matter that we want to take care of you.” Those same soft fingers that had gently held your hand began working at the buttons of your blouse. “So please don’t fight us on this. You’re exhausted.” Your chest moved up and down, your steady breathing quickening as she exposed your torso. “Just lay back and relax.”

A breathless sigh escaped you as her soft hands groped your breasts in both hands, squeezing the soft mounds. “A-alright, then, let me touch you too.” You reached for her breasts, her nipples erect, peeking through the thin fabric of her white t-shirt. Your fingers just grazed over the fabric, straining against her hardening buds, when she pulled back, out of your reach. “Shoko, why are—” Her lips met yours in a soft, delicate kiss, one that emanated her true intent and desires.

”Have you been hanging out with those two morons too much?” Soft fingers, unclasp the hook in the front of your bra. “What part of ‘lay back and relax’ did you not understand?” Warm caresses of your girlfriend's skin felt like a burning fire over your tingling nipples.

“But I hate not making you feel good.”

“Baby,” Shoko chastised, leaning down, gently flicking her tongue over one of your nipples. “You make our lives comfortable; you do so much for us.” She kitten-licked one of the buds, nearly sending you off the bed. “There will be plenty of other times for you to join in. For tonight, relax and enjoy being a pillow princess.”

You were hesitant to listen to her, but as you relaxed against the bed, you realized just how tired you were. Laying back, your head cradled by the pillow alleviated some of the throbbing pain in your upper back. Plus, you weren’t often told to be a pillow princess, to lose yourself in the pleasure. This might be precisely what you needed tonight.

Without any further protest, you melted against the bed, your hand gently running through Shoko’s long, silky hair as she suckled and nibbled at your nipples while her hands massaged your breasts. I felt so good to be touched so gently. It was a drastic contrast to the boys, who roughly groped and nipped at your sensitive breasts. No matter how many times they saw your breasts, they were still the teenage boys you met nearly a decade ago. Breasts were, and always would be, some of their favorite things. Shoko, on the other hand, knew what felt good, how to get those little moans and whimpers to escape your mouth. If the woman was given the chance, she very well could make you orgasm from your nipples alone one day.

”Oooh my god, S-Sho—” That day was today, “Shoko, f-feels so good, really good.” Your nails gently grazed her scalp before you tugged on the strands of her hair. “H-Holy shit.”

Your girlfriend giggled, sending vibrations to stimulate your already sensitive nipples. “Yeah? Feel good—“ her pink tongue swirling tantalizingly slow around them, “so good you’re going to cum like this?” A tiny whimper was the only response she received. “Such a good girl for me. Go ahead, baby.” She groped both your breasts, pushing them together, allowing her to suck and nibble at both your nipples at once. “Cum for me.”

Shoko pressed her knee against your clothed center, and that was all you needed to cum. “N-Nggh! C-cumming~ S-Sho! Fuck!” you withered and squirmed, your hips rocking g against her knee, extending the sweet pleasurable waves that rocked you to your core.

She was watching you get off from just the brush of her knee, and her mouth on your tits had Shoko giggling softly. Your face was twisted with pleasure, slowly shifting into a more lax face as you finished riding the waves. Once your heavy breathing turned into soft, content sighs, she pulled back with a grin. She’d like to see the boys try and get you off solely from your tits. Because she knew neither had the patience or skills for that.

“Good job, Shoko.” Your eyes fluttered open as the bed shifted. “Got her nice and relaxed for us.” Shoko sat back, watching as Suguru and Satoru crawled up the bed. “How are you feeling, sweetheart, better?” Satoru hummed as he unzipped your skirt, tugging it down.

“Mhmm, a lot better.” You lifted your ass off the bed. Allowing Suguru to tug your thigh-high stockings down. “Sho always takes good care of us.”

“Mmm,” larger hands forced your legs apart, “I can see that.” Suguru hummed, trailing a finger up and down over the wet spot on your panties. “She made you cum, and you did such a good job.” His fingers hooked under the lace hem and tugged them down, throwing them somewhere across the room.

Suguru’s fingers pulled your wet folds apart, admiring the slick coating of your lips and how your arousal seeped out of your tight entrance. His thumb pulled the hood over your clit back just enough, allowing him to rub sweet, gentle circles around the bundle of nerves. While he teased your clit Satoru nestled himself between your legs, kissing and nipping at your inner thighs up to your dripping sex.

“Mmm, I was wanting dessert.” His hot breath teased your twitching cunt. “Thanks for the meal, sweetheart.” His tongue dipped out, tracing teasing circles of your entrance. His wet tongue and Suguru’s thumb had you gasping, arching off the sheets. Your hips jolted forward, silently begging for more. “So fuckin’ needy~” Satoru growled into your pussy. “Normally, I’d make you beg, but you’ve been working so hard you deserve a reward.” His tongue dipped past your tight entrance, gently swirling it as he licked at your inner walls.

With Satoru’s tongue spearing you, working the muscle inside your pussy, Suguru takes the chance to lean down, kissing and sucking at your swollen nipples. “Fuck, you sound so pretty; make more sounds.” His teeth gently graze over the bud. The sudden sensation made your body jerk forward, here widening as his skilled mouth wrapped around your nipple, sucking on it hard.

“Suguru,” Shoko sits on your other side, “try swirling it gently~ like this.” A raspy sigh shakes through your entire body as Shoko demonstrates her technique on your other nipple. “This gets her going.”

“Oooh~ I see now.” The dark-haired man watched Shoko closely, nodding as he observed her momentum. “So I need to do—“ his eyes meet yours as he flattens his tongue, “—this?” His tongue matches Shoko’s face as pressure, sending tingles coursing straight to your pussy, where you clench around Satoru’s skillful tongue.

Blue eyes widen as feeling the gentle spasms of your cunt on his tongue. Your wetness seeped out, coating his tongue, mouth, and chin. “Mmmphmm~ yeah.” His voice is hoarse with unfiltered, pure need. “She fucking likes it~ her cunts hugging my tongue, keep it going.”

Hearing the filthy words, Satoru spoke motivated his best friend. Suguru kept his ministrations up, his eyes darting between Shoko and back to you, doing his best to keep up with her pace, mirroring her movements to the exact inch. In turn, Shoko’s hand dipped down, pressing gently on your lower abdomen.

“S-Shiiit!” You hissed, lifting your head an inch, watching as your three beautiful partners worshiped you. “Ooooh haaah!” You arched, squirmed, and twitched on Satoru’s tongue. Your partner's fingers, tongues, and lips moved faster as you screamed, one hand gripping the sheet as your other hand thrust into Satoru’s hair, tugging and pulling at the strands as you rocked against his face.

“Good girl~” Suguru growled against your nipple. “Goood fuckin’ girl~ cum all over Satoru’s face.”

Shoko nodded her head in agreement, her hand pressing harder against you. In doing so, she put pressure on the coil that was twisting and twisting inside you. Satoru groaned loudly inside of your pussy, feeling your walls twitch slightly around him; the tiny movements had his tongue lapping faster and harder, rubbing against your g-spot with every flick.

The combination of all three of their efforts made you scream and squirt. Coating Satoru’s tongue and face. Watching the stream of clear liquid coat, Satoru’s face had Suguru rubbing your clit faster. Extending your orgasm, making you squirt again again.

“Oooh, that’s it! Good fucking girl!” Suguru praised while Satoru glowered at you. Not in anger or disgust, but in feral fucking need. His mouth and tongue didn’t stop moving as he drank all of you in, working you over the dips and rises of the orgasm that nearly took your life. He only pulled away when you grimaced, shaking at the overstimulation of his mouth, and that only happened because you yanked him out of your pussy.

“Mmm~ such a good girl~” your slack mouth was suddenly being kissed by Shoko before Satoru crawled up, slotting his mouth against yours, allowing you to taste the sticky, tangy essence of your cum. “She was the best, wasn’t she, Satoru.”

The white-haired man pulled back, collecting the remaining traces of your cum with his pointer finger. “She’s the fucking best. No questions asked.” You lazily watched as he offered his finger to Suguru.

“Oooh, thank you.” Dark eyes trailed over you before he smirked, gently wrapping his hand around Satoru’s wrist and leading his finger into his open mouth. You choked on a breath as you watched Suguru bob his head up and down Satoru’s finger, ensuring all of your juices were clean. “Mhmm, so sweet. Shoko, have a taste.” Your girlfriend grinned slowly, leaning over your spent body, kissing Suguru with full tongue to get a taste of you. Their tongues swirled and massaged the other for what seemed like an eternity before they broke the kiss with a string of saliva and your cum connecting their tongues. “Isn’t she delicious?”

“She’s sweeter than the peach sake from dinner.”

With a gargled moan, your head fell back against the pillows as your lovers all leaned over to examine your face. Your pale skin from earlier was flushed a darker shade, your eyes were hazy and distant, and if this were an anime, they were sure you’d be spurting a nosebleed right about now. The trio exchanged knowing glances and gentle smiles. You did so much for them. The least they could do was give you a proper welcome home.

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intheorangebedroom · 6 months

Text

Tonight you belong to me, prologue

Summary: He comes to you every Friday, in a shady motel on the outskirts of town.

This is the beginning of what you wished had no end.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x fem!Reader (OFC)

Rating: Explicit 🔞

A/N: Happy Frankie Friday, orange besties 🧡 See series masterlist for extensive a/n blurb and especially for trigger warnings. Tread carefully. Ily 🧡 Please be gentle, I'm terrified 🫣

Word count: 5.1k

[series masterlist] * [next]

Prologue: In The Beginning

He comes to you every Friday.

He gets in after dark. He is gone before dawn.

In this shady motel on the outskirts of town, where no one will recognise your car. The curtains are yellow, and the carpet is brown. There’s a dollar store painting of the Appalachian above the bed, and the tap runs either trickling and scalding or high pressure and cold.

You hated that in particular, in the beginning. Now you don’t care. You don’t wash him off your skin anymore. Not until you’ve got no other choice.

Because he can’t mark you, you’d been firm on that point, he likes to come on your skin.

When he’d finally spoke, that very first time, he’d told you he was Frankie, but you assume it’s not his real name. Which is fine, you didn’t give him your real name either.

“Frankie” had been far subtler than you, regretful, perhaps, you like to entertain the delusion, when he’d hinted that you couldn’t leave any trace on his body.

And, in the beginning, you couldn’t imagine that it would ever matter.

You were wrong.

You were wrong about a lot of things, in the beginning.

—

Friday night. Again.

The swinging door creaks on its hinges to let in the regulars at random intervals. Mostly men, mostly middle-aged, mostly unshaven. Mostly clad in the working-class uniform of jeans, boots and t-shirt. Few of them sit around the round wooden tables. The bar isn’t large, there’s only four of those.

When they come in small parties, the men favour the two pools on the right. They’re lined with blue felt. The casing is made of plywood. No one ever plays darts, no one ever feeds the jukebox. Its electric cord lays unplugged on the floor, coiled like a sad sagging tail.

If they walk in alone, they tend to sit at the bar. Head turned toward the giant television screen hung on the wall to their left, where younger men in more colourful uniforms fight, run, kick or throw balls in all shapes and sizes. Its noise is at the forefront, the middle-aged men’s conversations a low humming sound that falls into the background.

The long and angled bar itself takes up most of the rectangular room’s space. The counter is stripped-down to the bare minimum. Stainless steel, easy to clean, practical. Four beer taps and a gambling machine and beyond the counter, a large mirror with three rows of dusty liquor bottles.

Food is served, occasionally, as evidenced by the paper napkins dispensers and the two yellow and red plastic condiment bottles on each table.

The barman runs the place on his own. You drink here every Friday evening, and you’ve never seen more than six customers at once, you included. Admittedly, you might not be very observant.

Being observant requires endurance, far more than you possess and are willing to deploy and direct towards others. You’re not selfish, not in the least. But you’re tired. You’ve been tired for years. There’s no rational explanation for your exhaustion. No honourable, awe-inspiring, valid ground. You don’t even know what wears you out. It might be sadness, disappointment, or boredom. Or all three in equal parts. All you know is that, come Friday night, your head needs the support of the gray wall behind you.

The creaking noise on your left signals the arrival of another customer, stomping in with a sure gait. Your eyes stay shut. You don’t come to the very aptly named Hole in The Wall seeking the company of other people, whoever they may be.

You come here to hide for a few hours, between the styrofoam ceiling and the dusty carpeted floor. To drink your week away in peace, but not in nerve-racking silence. Alcohol, you found out at a young age, has interesting properties: it blurs out the sharp edges of your dark thoughts in just the right amount.

Back in spring, when you stepped in here for the very first time, you looked comically out of place in your corporate attire, and you did raise quite a few eyebrows from the other patrons. Five months later, they must have learned to see past the charade of your overpriced clothes, because none of them pays you any mind anymore. It’s better than anonymity: it’s casual indifference.

You loosen your grip around your tall cocktail glass and let the condensation drip down onto the cardboard coaster. Reluctantly, you lift your weary eyelids to locate the square napkin lying somewhere on the table and dry your fingertips on it.

That’s when you see him taking a seat at the counter, directly across from your small table.

Years from now, you will still remember the precise circumstances of your first, brief encounter, even though you’re not fully paying attention yet. Nothing indicates tonight will be any different. Nothing suggests you are about to live through a pivotal moment in your existence.

Details will stand out, however. Mostly visual, surprisingly, given the dim lighting of the place. The back of his trucker hat, midnight blue plastic mesh, flattening the dark curls on his nape. The washed out denim of his shirt, worked-in, greenish in the diffuse artificial light, pulled taut across his back, as he sits facing away from you.

The square shape of his shoulders is backlit against the bar’s mirror. Your empty gaze finds the solid slope of his broad silhouette, and you let it rest there, lazily following his movements whenever he picks up his glass. It’s the same comfort you find when you rest your empty head against the hard wall. It’s aimless, inconsequential.

Later, on different kinds of Friday nights, the sight of his muscles bunching as he tugs off his shirt will bring you back to this very moment. The thought will reshape into a sharp, wistful ache deep inside your heart. What would have happened, to you, to him, if he had chosen to stop for a drink at another bar, somewhere further down the road? What if you had done the same, back in April?

For now, your mind is blessedly blank.

Does he catch your reflection in the mirror? Does he feel your gaze on the back of his head?

After a while, how long, you cannot tell, he pivots slowly on his stool, grounded and dense. Slowly, like a mountain would if a mountain came to life and decided to walk into the ocean. He doesn’t turn around completely, just enough to look at you, one of his arms still propped on top of the counter.

The right side of his face is darkened by the shadow from the brim of his hat, but you can make out the pronounced crease in his brow. His eyes are black, and unfathomable, like the ocean at night, but alight with a bright glimmer. They find yours instantly.

Something shifts inside your rib cage, something close to the heart, close to pain.

You feel exposed, entirely bare. Your breathing subsides, you cannot move, trapped in a nightmare-like stretch of time as he glares down at you, immobile, impressive, gigantic. Dark eyes boring into yours. You’re drowning in them.

You don’t want it to end.

Inevitably, he breaks eye-contact, and swivels back toward the mirror. He sits still for a few seconds, before grabbing his glass to finish his beer in long gulps.

You watch him lift his hat and brush his hair to the side with a large hand, and he’s out the door less than a minute later, without so much as a glance in your direction, a conscious choice, given the minute proportions of the place.

He leaves you sitting there, with your brow pinched and your empty drink, struggling to understand the rippling effects of his massive presence on your body and your brain.

You bring your fingers to your chest and rub them over your sternum, where the shifting sensation continues to prickle.

Neither a second drink nor a third helps dull the feeling, but a fourth one is not an option if you want to get home without a DUI.

It follows you into the darkness of the deserted parking lot, on the drive home and into the glass prison of your clinically clean apartment. It’s there when you get into bed, when you lie wide awake at 3am next to your sleeping fiancé, and it’s still there when you wake up, hungover and sore, four hours later.

Nestled between your lungs. The memory of his cold hard stare. Of his soft sad eyes.

It bypasses your most foolproof diversions of painful pleasure and pleasurable pain. Your attempts at hard work and your compulsive distractions. It robs you of your appetite, of your lucidity, of your ability to rest. It corners you in the first floor toilet of your office building on a Thursday morning, on the verge of a panic attack, until you consider calling your sister for help.

Ava would figure it out. She’d get you out of that loop in which you’ve locked yourself up, she’d know what to say. With her crude words and her unforgiving formulations, she’d admonish your silly overreaction and dismissively rebuke your daydreams over a mundane interaction, probably throwing in something about your heteronormative fantasies.

Dude, you’re all worked up because of a staring contest with a rando in a dive bar? she’d say. She’d toss the rhetorical question at your face, you can hear her as if you’ve already sweated through the conversation.

She’s often harsh but she’s always right.

And normally, you’d be seeking that out. For your little sister to bully some good sense back into your nebulous brain.

But something has shifted.

Dark curls, thick fingers, flexing shoulders. Solid arms. Cold, hard stare.

He abraded something on the surface of your skin, and you don’t think you’re capable of withstanding Ava’s sarcasm in your current state.

By the following Friday, you feel so vulnerable you consider going to another place, or not going out at all.

Only, the alternative is worse.

You walk into The Hole in The Wall convinced that your unsteady gait is betraying your apprehension, squinting to adjust to the dim light of the place. The bar is nearly empty, as always, save for a couple of bearded graying men you vaguely recall having seen here before. They all look the same to you, anyway. Another thing you hate about yourself.

The barman tells you to sit while he prepares your drink. The gesture is kind but uncustomary, and it only serves to increase your uneasy feeling.

Within an hour of waiting, because that's what you've been doing, you register with an icy trickle of shame dripping down your sides, you realise he won’t be coming.

That man’s presence here last week is the very definition of sheer happenstance. Nothing more. Nothing else. If anything, you’ve been a nuisance to him, ogling him while he was simply trying to unwind with an afterwork drink.

You’ll never see him again.

And it’s fine. You’ll move on, drift back into drifting, avoiding at all costs to process what happened to you when you met his gaze. The tree hiding the forest.

When you walk up to the counter to order your second drink, the question slips away from you.

“Can I have the same thing the man in the trucker hat had last Friday, please?”

The barman looks up at you from the tray of clean dishes he's pulling out of the dishwasher and he huffs. He’s handsome, by most standards, you notice for the very first time. Very tall, and broad, green-eyed with a three-day stubble. He’s probably a couple of years above forty. His head is shaved bald. He’s manly in a burly, albeit fatherly way.

“Oh sweetheart, d’you know how many guys with a trucker hat I see here every day?”

It’s not meant to make you feel small, his tone is gentle. It’s a straightforward, factual answer.

“What do you wanna drink?” he asks when you don’t answer. “Tired of that G&T yet? Cos I got good beer. This is a beer place, you know? Wanna try a light blonde, to start? Something stronger? An IPA?”

What do you want. You’ve been drinking gin all your life because that’s what your mother always has. Starting at 5pm in the afternoon. Would you, indeed, like to try a light blonde? Something stronger? An IPA, to start?

It’s a brand-new world unfurling in front of you, a yellow brick road paved with what-do-you-wants.

“Sure,” you nod, “I can try an IPA.”

—

The barman goes by the name of Mark. He’s also the owner of The Hole in The Wall, you learn. Bought the place two years ago, after a painful divorce. A cliché, he adds, with a charming, self-deprecating smile.

The interaction’s short and altogether not unpleasant, and the beer, to your surprise, is fresh and enjoyable. It’s much tastier, in fact, than the cheap, tepid gin you’ve been sipping so far. It gets you drunk just as fast, but this time when you leave the bar, your mind is quiet, if not at ease.

The following week, a heatwave hits the Tampa Bay. The melting asphalt sticks to your leather soles, like your sweaty clothes to your clammy skin, like your brooding mood to your dampened dreams. In a couple of days eventually, August will draw to an end, but the summer won’t end with it. It never truly does. It taunts you all year round, a sweltering reminder of how much you hate living here.

And if it wasn’t for the humidity, you’d be jogging the short distance between your car and the cool haven of the air-conditioned bar.

You push the swinging door forward, eyes shut in anticipation of the blinding darkness and you stand in the entrance for a few seconds. The familiar and comforting smell of moldy dust mixed with beer yeast greets your senses as you take in the chill air grazing your naked arms.

And then you reopen your eyes.

He’s here.

Trucker hat, blue jeans, gray T-shirt. Different clothes, same silhouette. He’s sitting at your table, his position a magnified echo of yours two weeks ago, hand loosely wrapped around his pint, seemingly asleep with his head propped against the wall.

Mark looks at you and tilts his head in his direction, wiggling an eyebrow with a silent question of “Is this the guy you were asking about?”

Your breathing’s so loud you think everyone must hear it over the droning television. Mark’s brow furrows with incomprehension at the alarm widening your eyes, and you anchor yourself to his face, walking toward him in slow motion, climbing on the first high stool you reach.

“Hey. You ok?”

You stretch your lips in a wince of a smile.

“So? What will it be today? Wanna try a Free Dive? It’s local.”

You nod in silence, but then he grabs a large glass, and you ask tentatively, “Can I have only half a pint?”

Fuck, your mouth is so dry.

Behind you, to your right, you feel more than you hear the man shift in his chair.

Mark sighs, his left hand paused on the tap handle.

“I don’t have beer glasses this small, sweetheart. Get a pint, the first one’s on me, okay?”

You reiterate your silent nod. He places the beer in front of you, and you swallow the first swigs too quickly. The back of your throat throbs with the fast flowing intake of the cold liquid, or perhaps it’s because of the frantic beating of your heart.

He’s getting up now, you can tell by the friction sound of the chair dragging on the carpeted floor, and your frightened expression turns downright pleading as you hear him close the distance between you.

He’s at your back, sliding his thick naked arm past yours to return his empty glass to the counter. His movements are slow, deliberate. You get a whiff of his scent, a masculine musk, with a faint smell of laundry detergent, it’s wholesome, safety, comfort. You turn your head. He’s looking at you. Looking at you with intent.

He’s so tall you have to lift your chin to hold his gaze. Hard cold stare, soft sad eyes, it’s swirling violently inside your exhausted chest and he’s leaving again already, walking toward the door like nothing just happened.

He pulls it inward and you watch him exit the bar into the dusk light.

Did he come back for you? Are you going insane?

Sixty-seven seconds. Sixty-seven seconds is the time it takes you to decide your next move. The one that’s going to forever change your life. The one that could be everything or turn out meaningless.

“I’ll be right back,” you tell Mark, sliding your handbag on the counter and you stand up to follow him outside.

The sunset sky is a pink shade of orange. Shadows are stretching long onto the asphalt, drawing a distorted world upside-down.

He’s not here anymore, you waited too fucking long. You quickly scan the parked vehicles on the other side of the road to your right, and the parking lot in front of you, but it’s empty, save for your anthracite sedan, a black truck and what you assume must be Mark’s old SUV, because you see it every week.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, pressing your fingers to your sternum.

You look to your left, where the parking ends. There’s a white utility vehicle advertising a plumbing service and a dark blue city car. Beyond them, the lot extends into a narrow stretch of gravel behind the small rectangular building. There’s a pile of junk, and the tailgate of a red truck.

Your hand drops to your side and you start walking toward it, going around the white van.

He’s there. He’s waiting for you by the front of the red truck, behind the building. His hands propped on his waist, head down, hidden under his cap.

You keep walking toward him, the sound of your shoes on the dirty ground grating your ears, but you stop short when he raises his head, fuck he looks even taller at this distance, with his elbows spread.

It’s like he senses your apprehension, or perhaps he shares it, because he folds his arms over his chest, hugging himself.

For the very first time, you can fully make out his face. Strong features, a strong curvy nose, a patchy beard peppering a sharp jaw, and plush lips. Your gaze follows the solid column of his neck down to his suprasternal point peeking above the V-collar of his worn-out t-shirt, before it’s drawn back to his eyes.

He stands there perfectly still for you to detail.

Above you, the sky has turned a rusty blue. The humidity is stifling. It’s Friday the 30th, 2019, 8.17pm.

“What do you want?”

His voice is deep, and low, barely louder than a murmur yet intense, his words full and round.

The question, however legitimate, hits you square in the solar plexus, right under your aching sternum. You fear that if you don’t speak fast enough, he’ll leave you again, alone with the memory of his soft sad eyes and his hard cold stare.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, and god, if it’s true, what are you doing here?

He huffs, and it’s the very sound of disillusion. His eyes grow dimmer, you think you’re not the one darkening them. Unfolding his arms, he removes his hat and takes a step closer, then another. You could touch him, if you reached out with your arm stretched.

He looks at you like he’s already seen how your story ends.

You could back away. You don’t.

He moves slowly, thick body thrumming with undiluted strength and unreleased tension, eyes searching yours, giving you the time to leave, should leaving be what you choose, should you turn around and run before the hanging threat breaks like dark stormy clouds and drench you soaked.

He slowly moves forward until he’s towering over you, until his chest touches your breasts, until the pilled cotton of his t-shirt catches at the satin material of your blouse. His scent floods your senses, he leans down into the curve of your neck and inhales you there, long, deep, unhurried. You hold your breath, still, in turn, for his exploration, nails digging into your palms, heart tripping.

And then, he touches you. With his lips, a feather-like caress over the soft skin under your ear. Your eyes flutter shut, your thoughts are suspended.

“This what you want?” he murmurs.

His words sink under your skin, they harden your nipples, raise goosebumps on your nape in the muggy evening heat.

“Yes.”

The cap falls onto the gravel. His hands go to your hips. Clutching you there with a rough grip and he’s tugging you closer, flush to his chest. He licks up a broad stripe along the line of your throat, pivots with you in his arms and backs you into the side of the truck, you have to grab his forearms to keep your balance.

A guttural sound catches in his throat, like a grunt he tries to hold back, for your touch, for the taste of your skin, for your pliant docility.

Your head rolls back, you’ve gone weeks without a skin on skin contact, and now this man is hunched over you, his body swallowing yours, this stranger who’s infected your dreams with his cold hard stare and his soft sad eyes, his mouth roaming the expanse of your throat, short beard prickling your skin, and the shifting sensation inside your chest drops to your core where it catches fire.

His kisses are lips, teeth and tongue, rough and scraping at you raw in all the right ways, they trail up along your neck, under your jaw, and when they find your lips, he presses you harder into him. He tastes like beer, unfamiliar, you want to get used to it.

The seams of your blouse strain when he pulls it out of your skirt with an impatient tug. His hands slither under the hem and find the naked skin of your back. His palms are strong, rugged and scalding and his fingertips calloused, they make your skin sizzle underneath their pressing, crackle like snapping wood, like fireworks at a summer county fair, like sweet candy wrapping.

You're leaking hot and sticky between your hips, responding with your entire body, opening up for him, letting his tongue in past your lips with pathetic grateful little moans, winding your arms around his shoulders, over the cording muscles of his back, musky sweat dampening his t-shirt. The thick, solid shape of him, that got etched behind your eyelids.

You’re a want and a need and an empty flutter, entangled with him, whoever he may be, his tongue swirling inside your mouth, the scrape of his teeth on your lower lip, his splayed hands covering your back, his knee spreading your legs open.

He’s voracious, harsh in his own need, snatching from you what you’re already willing to give, angling your head with a sharp pull on your hair to deepen his kiss, grunting his approval when you moan at the sting.

Arousal keeps dripping down your fold where his thigh prods firm and brawny against the black material of your skirt that hinders the pressure.

He growls, frustration rumbling low and menacing inside his throat. He grabs your ass and squeezes, thick middle finger pushing against the fabric of your clothes into the cleft between your cheeks and you jolt, leaping forward further into him. His belt buckle bites into the soft flesh of your belly, right where you're burning empty and wanting and shameless for him. You feel him hot and hard against your hip, and he tightens his hold, cages you within him.

He’s big all over, larger than life proportions, you surrender to the fact with your lust-drunk mind, from the height of his frame to the girth of his sex, from his grip on your senses to the sorrow in his eyes.

It blooms inside you like pain, blossoms of mahogany red spreading along your limbs in relentless waves, the power he already wields over you and you don’t even know his name.

You buck between his arms, a first and very last attempt at freeing yourself, unconvincing with the scrap of your fingernails along the pebbled skin of his neck, and you press back into him again, squirming against his throbbing length, offering him some friction.

He pulls out all of sudden, breaking the kiss, and you're left panting, ankles swaying, you’d drop to the gravel without the support of the truck, still sun-warm in the early evening, yet colder than his feverish body.

He shakes his head with a silent no, his shoulders heaving, a wordless warning hissed through his clenched bared teeth. The simmering anger under the surface only makes you want him more, the unyielding restraint shining dark in his eyes.

But it’s over. You know it. He gave you this, and took it back. With shaky hands, you smooth down the wrinkles of your blouse where he’s bunched it in his fists. You lick his taste off your trembling lip. You will not cry.

He shakes his head again, you watch him through welling tears, confused, eyes flickering between his.

Behind him, the city car’s engine revs up to a start, aggressive headlights backlighting him. His throat bobs up and down in chiaroscuro as he swallows hard. You know what you must look like in the crude white light. Supplicant, dependent, awaiting. Disheveled by his hand. Tires grate on the gravel as the car reverses away from you into the night, and with it the headlights, leaving you standing in the brown city night, urban semi darkness, and you see him shut his eyes.

He smiles, a puzzling, sorrowful lift of his plush lips, and a new sort of ache washes over you. You raise forward on your tiptoes to peck a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth. His entire frame quivers for you. A muscle clenches in his jaw, the deepening crease in his brow redefines his traits in shadows.

He leans into you, like he wants you but he doesn’t want to want you, like he’s giving in but not entirely, because giving in would be the end of him, of you.

The flat of his palm to the swell of your breast, and he kneads your soft flesh, slowly at first, growing urgent. The back of your head hits the truck’s window when he pinches your nipple, hard, with two fingers, and you bite down a moan.

He’s engulfing you again, lips latched around your other nipple, tongue swirling and licking through your blouse and your thin bra and you hold on to him, you cling to his frame when he bunches up your skirt around your waist, leather boot nudging your foot to the side, cock throbbing on your hip, slick dripping down your walls.

“Stop me,” his mouth brushes the shell of your ear. It’s not a dare, it’s not a plea, it’s your last chance to back down before the free fall.

Your pulse stutters, you arch into him without hesitation, but he pins you back against the truck with his chest, cupping you through your underwear and he curses into your neck at the sticky leaking mess he finds there.

Your naked leg hitches up rigid and tense against his leg, curled fingers, curled toes, and he hooks his index into the cotton of your panties.

A brief stroke of his knuckles into the soft, smooth dip between your sex and your inner thigh, unexpectedly tender, before he parts your soaked lips with his two middle fingers, coating them in your sticky slick desire, and he sinks them inside your empty cunt.

You crumble around the intrusion, forehead hitting his collarbone, slack-mouthed, a short exhale of a silent “oh.” He brings his left hand to the crown of your head and cradles you there, while his fingers pump in and out of your heat fast and rough. His thumb glides through your folds and starts rubbing at your clit, deft and precise, and you shudder between his arms, you slump into his hold.

He keeps stroking your hair, gentle soothing sounds murmured into your ear as he fucks you raw with his hand, attuned to your moans and your every reaction, gauging what you can take before his fingers curl deeper inside your cunt, merciless, thumb pressing tight circles on your bud at an increasing pace.

Your breathing comes in ragged and short while his intensifies. It’s pouring into your ear hot and overwhelming and you’re dissolving. Sweat beading at your temples, heat raising from his exerted muscles.

You focus on the sensation of his flexing muscles under your clawing hands to stave off your building orgasm, it’s growing bright and blinding, searing and violent but it’s inevitable, and soon, too soon, your release flows hot and sticky into his hand. Your whines resound inside his chest but he keeps going, low husks of shhh, come on now, that’s it, until your trapped body trashes with the overstimulation.

It’s like he can’t let go, pressing his nose heavily to the side of your face, and you struggle to resurface, blood thrumming in your veins, his angry cock pulsating against your hip.

You let out a dry sob when he slides out of you and the rubber band of your panties slaps your sensitive skin. You don’t miss the flat drag of his tongue licking your taste off his palm, you furrow your fingers deeper into his arm with a short clench of your eyes.

“Fuck,” your hear him quietly groan, and his fingers disappear into his mouth.

You want to stay tucked up against him, curled up into his hold. You could live the rest of your life there, you think, between his hands and his scent, between his chest and his truck.

You lock your ankles and your knees, hoping they will not fail you and you stand, pushing away from him and into the side of the truck. You readjust your skirt, slide it down, palm it smooth. Brush the damp hair from your forehead with the back of your trembling hand.

In your peripheral, he’s leaning down, picking up his hat from the ground and combing his fingers through his hair before he sets the cap back on his head.

You look up dazed and heavy-lidded and you brace yourself before meeting his gaze, cold hard stare, soft sad eyes, and he says,

“I’m Frankie.”

****

Bonus (having déjà vu? that's normal 😝 Gonna use this gif at the end of every first chapter I manage to yank out of my crazy in love brain):

Taglist (thank you 🧡 if you don't wish to be tagged anymore, just drop me a DM 🧡): @elegantduckturtle @mashomasho @lola766 @nicolethered @littleone65 @the-rambling-nerd @saintbedelia @pedrostories @trickstersp8 @deadmantis @hbc8 @princessdjarin @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @gracie7209 @mrsparknuts @mylostloversbookmarks @its-nebuleuse @flowersandpotplantsandsunshine @all-the-way-down-here

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geekswhoeat · 2 years

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Avatar Adversaries Popcorn Duo Inspired by Avatar: The Last Airbender

Avatar Adversaries Popcorn Duo Inspired by Avatar: The Last Airbender [AD]

Our recipe for Avatar Adversaries Popcorn Duo is a Paid Promotion for Nickelodeon’s Avatar: The Last Airbender. One of the fandoms we’ve been dying to cover is Avatar: The Last Airbender. So when Nickelodeon reached out to us to help promote their #AvatarAdversaries collaboration with BoxLunch we were definitely on board! To celebrate we did a bit of research and decided to create a duo of…

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#Avatar: The Last Airbender #Earth Kingdom #Fire Nation #Geeky Food #Geeky Recipes #Geeky Vegan Appetizers and Starters #Geeky Vegan Recipes #Geeky Vegan Snacks #Geeky Vegetarian Appetizers and Starters #Geeky Vegetarian Recipes #Geeky Vegetarian Snacks #Nickelodeon #sponsored #Sponsored Post #Television Inspired Food

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fetusgooseandjuice · 1 year

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Pretty One

Pairing(s): Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader

Summary: A quiet day with your girlfriend ends with you having to leave your home when Natasha shows up in search for Yelena.

Word Count: 1,454

Warnings: Violence

Authors Note: This is based off of/inspired by the scene from Black Widow!

You were currently laid on the sofa, snuggled up to your girlfriend. Her head rested on a pillow against the arm of the couch whilst your head was lying on her shoulder, her arms wrapped securely around you.

She had returned from a quick trip to the corner store just a couple hours ago for some basic food items when you got comfy on the cushions, and turned on some random show on the television.

You were quite interested in the show at first, but that was before Yelena began to card her fingers through your hair and caress your back with her calloused, yet extremely gentle hands.

The comforting actions from her had you dozing off. Not into a sound sleep per say, but into a very relaxed and tranquil state, so you were no longer focused on the show that still lightly ran in the background.

Yelena on the other hand was unsuccessful with paying attention to the plot at all when she had what she believed was a real life angel laying right in her arms, toying with the strap of the white tank top she wore.

Your mouth opened into a yawn as Yelena continued to play with your hair, "Tired? I know you didn't really sleep that well last night." she asked.

You shook your head, "No, just really content with you." you mumbled in response.

Yelena never thought she could make anyone feel anything other than pain and suffering after her time in the red room. But then she met you who introduced her to the world of emotions; the main one being love. The kind that everyone hopes and dreams for, but not everyone gets.

She turned to kiss your temple, "I love you, detka (baby), so much." she whispered against your head. "I love you too, Lena." you said the words back to her with just as much meaning.

A few moments of comfortable silence went by before she spoke up again, "What if we just ran away." she suggested.

"Ran away?" you repeated with a giggle and she hummed, lightly chuckling.

"Yeah, you know just go wherever our hearts take us and never look back." she elaborated on her out of the blue idea.

"Where would we go?" you questioned.

Yelena shrugged her shoulders, "Anywhere you want to." You thought for a moment before responding,

"I've always wanted to go to London."

"Then we'll start with London. And then maybe we'll go to Paris because it's the city of love, and well, you are my love." she said, making you giggle once again.

You continued to talk about that for a little bit before returning to the calming quietness of just your slow breathing and the television. This time you both had almost fallen asleep until Yelena froze. If there was anything being a trained ex assassin had given her, it was heightened senses.

She knew that something was not right, and the fact that she had you with her right now made her protective instincts immediately set off sirens in her brain.

"You okay, Lena?" you asked, feeling her body suddenly tense up.

Yelena gently sat up and untangled herself from you, making a frown form on your face.

"Where are you going?" you asked, opening your eyes to see her standing up.

"Dorogaya (darling), I need you to go into the other room and stay there. Do not come out until I come to get you myself." Yelena tells you.

"What?" you sat up in confusion.

"I know this sounds weird but I just need you to trust me, okay?" she spoke as she pulled a gun out from under the couch cushion, making your eyes slightly widen.

"What— what's going on? Is someone here?" you said in a panic, watching as she slipped on her blazer that was laying on a chair.

She contemplated her next words as she didn't want you to scare you, but she also didn't want to lie to you, "That's what I'm going to find out. But first I need to know that you're safe before I go anywhere. So please, just trust me." Yelena spoke softly to calm you.

You hesitantly nodded your head, and she took that as her cue to take your hand and lead you to the other room. She stopped in front of your wardrobe and opened the door, "Stay here, and wait for me to come get you."

She pressed a kiss to your forehead after you sat down. You murmured an 'Okay' before she shut the door and her footsteps disappeared down the hallway.

~~~

Meanwhile, Yelena made sure her gun was loaded before holding it out in front of her, "I know you're out there." her voice echoed through the apartment.

A few seconds passed before another voice responded, "I know you know I'm out here." it spoke, followed by the front door loudly opening and closing.

"Then why are you skulking about like it's a minefield?" you heard your girlfriend say.

"Cause I don't know if I can trust you." the voice that was unknown to you answered.

You could hear Yelena lightly chuckle, "Funny, I was going to say the same thing."

"So, are we gonna talk like grown-ups?" the intruder asked.

Yelena's tone dropped lowly, "Is that what we are?"

You couldn't see it, but Yelena and the owner of the unrecognizable voice were finally face to face, each pointing a gun at the other.

For a few moments you could only hear shoes patting against the floor when your girlfriends voice threatened, "Put it down before I make you."

"You put yours down." the voice shot back, "Watch your step."

Nothing but an eerie silence could be heard by your ears. That was until Yelena and the stranger decided to quit the small talk and handle the situation in a different manner.

It was clear to you that they were now fighting from the loud crashes and shouting that rang through the apartment floor. Objects were smashed, glass was shattering, furniture was breaking. You knew that your girlfriends was significantly more than capable of handling herself, but you were still worried about her.

You weren't exactly sure how long the commotion had gone on for when you finally heard the voice speak again, "Truce." it said. It scared you that Yelena sounded like she was gasping for air.

"You've grown up." the stranger commented.

'Grown up?' you thought. 'Did Yelena know this person? Why are they here? Why were trying to hurt your girlfriend?'

"No shit." Yelena responded coldly. You could hear footsteps coming closer to you when the door opened, revealing your Lena.

Her hair was tousled and she looked as if she had just ran a marathon, but it was her. She was seemingly unharmed, but you just had to make sure.

You cupped her face as she kneeled in front of you, "Lena? Are you okay? Are you hurt?" your eyes concerningly scanned her body.

"I'm alright, printsessa (princess), I promise." she reassured you.

Yelena caught you when you threw yourself into her arms and wrapped yours around her neck to hold her close, not caring about how sweaty she might be.

"Hey dorogaya, I need you to do something for me, okay?" she said as she pulled back.

You hummed, wordlessly telling her to continue, "You know those bags we have packed for emergencies under the bed in our room?" Yelena asked and you nodded, "I need you to go grab them for me, okay?"

You both knew that eventually you would have to get up and leave. With Yelena being a trained ex assassin she had inevitably made some enemies. You just didn't expect that day to come so soon.

So you knowingly complied, standing to your feet with her. When Yelena moved out from in front of you so you could walk away, you saw who you believed to be the intruder standing just a few feet away.

She had fiery red hair that was styled into a braid, and wore an all black outfit. You coward under her rather intimidating gaze, realizing that this stranger who just attacked your girlfriend had just watched your whole encounter.

You felt a hand rest on the small of your back, recognizing it as Yelena's, "Ignore her, detka (baby). She won't hurt you." she said, pressing a kiss to your hair as she gave her sister a warning glance.

Yelena gave you a nod when you looked at her for you to go ahead and leave the room. You quickly walked passed the redhead who looked at her younger sister with her signature smirk.

"She’s a pretty one." Natasha stated.

Yelena rolled her eyes, "Shut up."

#yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x you #yelena belova x female reader #yelena marvel #yelena belova #yelena mcu #yelena x you #yelena x reader #yelena x y/n #yelena black widow

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yukidragon · 3 months

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May we have a story about Jack's clingy side and uses his puppy dog eyes to make MC to cuddle with him longer? (He uses the puppy dog eyes whenever he wants something and it works 100% of the time) Jack kind of reminds me of a giant puppy.

I love this idea! Jack definitely knows how to channel puppy energy to his advantage, and my MC Alice definitely falls for it every time.

In fact, I love this idea so much that it inspired me to turn it into a quick writing prompt. I also remembered that I owe everyone a nice little Jack x reader fic from the poll I made last year, so I wrote this writing exercise in 1st person gender neutral perspective.

So here it is, just a short but sweet first draft story about clingy Jack giving his sunshine some puppy dog eyes and pleading to get a bit more cuddle time. I don't think any real warnings apply, though it does get a little suggestive. Also, I think this might count as GrovelCore?

Anyway, I hope you enjoy my writing, and consider leaving a comment please!💕

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

...

It was nice to have moments like this, just the two of us on the couch cuddled up together. The way Jack wrapped me up in his big, strong arms made me feel so safe, so content. Even though I was tucked comfortably in his lap, he practically surrounded me with his warmth. It was the perfect way to spend a day off from work.

The show on TV was entertaining, but it wasn’t enough to draw my attention away from Jack for long. He didn’t seem to be paying attention to it at all. Every time I looked up at him, I never failed to see those beautiful dark brown eyes of his gazing back at me. His mouth was shaped in a gentle curve of a smile, his expression almost dreamy as he admired me with so much love and adoration in his eyes that it sent my heart racing. I had to look away when the butterflies in my chest fluttered so hard they were ready to burst out of me.

Fuck, I was so down bad for this man, I was down atrocious.

A gloved finger brushed against my cheek, slowly tracing the contours of my face until reaching my chin. The sensation sent a delicious shiver down my spine, and my eyes returned to Jack as he gently guided my face back towards him.

“Looks like the show’s over,” Jack said. I blinked, caught off-guard, before my eyes darted to the screen to see the credits scrolling by. His honeyed voice drew me back before I could get distracted from his loving gaze for long. “What do you want to do now, sunshine?”

The first thought that popped into my head made my cheeks burn and brought back those damn butterflies. The second thought reminded me to check the time.

Ah damn it. Curse must-watch binge-worthy television. Why must I always fall for your siren song of “just one more episode”?

“Not run errands, that’s for sure, but it’s getting late,” I said with a heavy sigh, banishing the butterflies and steamy thoughts to whence they came. “Groceries aren’t going to buy themselves, and I’ve got a bunch of other stuff I should get out of the way while I’m out too.” I sighed again, shoulders slumping.

Being a responsible adult dealing with all the responsible adult bullshit sucked sometimes. A lot of the time. Actually probably most of the time considering how many hours in a day got eaten up by a cringy job and entitled customers.

I twisted away from Jack and tried to stand, but his large muscular arms kept me locked up tighter than iron bars. I turned back to him with a questioning look, only to see him pouting at me.

“I know it’s important to be responsible, sunshine, but don’t you think you’ve been pushing yourself too hard lately?” he asked. “We have plenty of food to last a few more days, and you’ve been working overtime for the past five nights in a row. You come home too exhausted to do anything but sleep, then you go right back to work. It’s not good for you.”

“I know,” I said with a helpless shrug. “But what can I do about it? Bills aren’t going to pay themselves either.”

Jack adjusted his hold on me, not enough that I could slip free, but I could feel his hands glide slowly along my back, sending a shiver up my spine. “I know, but it’s just been so long since we’ve had any cuddle time,” he said, his pout making its way into his voice now.

I couldn’t help but chuckle a little at the way his lower lip jutted out just a little further. “You see me every day,” I teased, trying to lighten up the mood. “Besides, we woke up cuddling this morning, didn’t we? You sleep with me every night.”

“You’ve been too tired to cuddle lately,” Jack said, whining a little. “Even this morning, you didn’t really wake up until halfway through breakfast. This is the first chance in days that I’ve had to really have you all to myself.” He dipped his head down, closer to mine, and I couldn’t help but notice the way the TV’s gentle glow made his dark eyes shine. “I missed you, sunshine.”

His big soulful eyes tugged at my heartstrings, and his gentle caress along my back made me want to melt into him. “I missed you too,” I admitted after a moment. We couldn’t exactly talk when other people were around, and work had been too busy for us to even sneak a kiss without the risk of getting caught in the act.

I was pretty sure Jack wouldn’t mind even if someone else could see him making out with me. In fact, I had a sneaking suspicion that he might even enjoy getting caught. Sometimes this man acted like he had no idea what it meant to feel shame.

Then again, Jack was always painted up like a clown 24/7. If he wasn’t embarrassed by the bright face paint or his silly jokes, then he probably didn’t know the meaning of the word.

Sometimes I wished that I could say the same. The idea of being seen making weird faces while holding onto the air left me feeling a level of cringe that not even the greeting at my job could match. It probably would be a kiss with tongue too knowing Jack.

The thought left me burning, both with mortification and the memory of the way his kisses made me feel.

Maybe it would be worth the embarrassment considering how good of a kisser Jack was.

As if reading my mind, Jack brushed his lips against mine, just a peck, but it was enough to snap my attention entirely to my boyfriend. “Then stay with me,” he said with a hint of desperation to his breathy voice. “Please?” He planted another kiss on my lips, just a little longer but still only a tantalizing taste of what he could offer me. “I need you.”

Jack finished off the last of my resistance by saying my name in that same pleading tone while looking at me with so much love and need in his beautiful dark brown eyes. His desperate voice and puppy dog eyes made me melt like cotton candy in water.

I gave in to him. I couldn’t help it. I was weak to him when he begged me like this, and I needed Jack just as badly as he needed me.

“Jack,” I sighed as I looped my arms around his neck and drew Jack in for another kiss. I could feel him smile against my lips, and he murmured my name again before his tongue slid into my mouth to get a taste of me.

Soon I was pinned against the couch, breathless and panting, with Jack looming above me. His arms were a cage that secured me there and ensured that I wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Not that I wanted to with the way his mouth moved along my neck, hot and wet. I couldn’t help but moan his name as he sucked on my skin, arching up into him.

Even before Jack started tugging at my shirt, I had a feeling that I wasn’t getting any errands done today, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Every touch, every kiss, and every murmur of my name along with sweet praise made the world around us fade away, until nothing else existed but the two of us and our love.

#Sunny Day Jack #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #SunnyDayJack #sdj #swwsdj #My Writing #Sunny Day Jack x Reader #Yandere x reader #X Reader #Reader Insert

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jaemmphilia · 1 year

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★ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ★ || hwang h.j & lee f.x

★ summary: hyunjin desperately needs inspiration for a painting that's due in his visual arts class. he has to paint the subject on a large canvas using nude colors. the problem is that he can't seem to find a model, he's asked everyone he knows, and it turns out that not everyone wants to sit naked in a uncomfortable pose for hours on end. not even his hyung, chan. well, there's always that really, really attractive boy in his creative writing class, hyunjin has spoke to him a handful of times, he would consider them to be close. hyunjin also knows the boy is a mutual friend of felix's. it wouldn't hurt to ask right?

★ characters: kang y/n, hwang hyunjin, lee felix, chan and changbin are only mentioned once, johnny from nct is also mentioned

★ warnings: threesome, sex on a large canvas, smut, oral (all characters receiving), unprotected sex, (wrap it up yall), nudity, paint in places it really should not be (none of it will be inside of anyone, of course), hyunlix are both whipped for y/n, college au, mentions of alcohol and weed, author says cock too many times to be considered normal, reader is called little doll a few times

★ word count: ~5.8K words (i got carried away again..)

★ requested?: yep, thank you to @belladonna6-6-6 for the idea !!

★ binnie's thoughts: when i got this request dm'd to me i just couldn't resist... hyunlix is just so sexy and i know they'd be the perfect boyfs … enjoy this filthy threesome !!

★ disclaimer: this fic in absolutely NO way represents the stray kids members as people. this is just for fun, so don't take it to heart. just enjoy!

Hyunjin doesn’t know who to ask at this point. He’s asked every single person he knows (which is a lot of people, he’s quite popular on campus, mind you), and every last one of them either flat out said no or they had something to do that day. As he contemplates bribing one of his friends with food, he hears his roommate enter their shared dorm. Felix lets out a heavy sigh as he kicks off his shoes, placing them neatly on the shoe rack they built together during their second year.

Felix is a great roommate, he knows not to touch Hyunjin’s expensive art supplies, and he always asks for permission before entering Hyunjin’s room or his art studio. He also makes the most delicious brownies and cookies Hyunjin has ever had the privilege of tasting. Felix likes his personal space, but he also is fun to talk to. The two of them like to curl up together on their super comfy couch, a weighted blanket draped over their laps as they share a large bowl of sickly-salty popcorn, a stupid and trashy reality show playing on their large television. They both know not to watch ahead of the other, because it’s their thing, you can’t just break the roommate code like that. It’s just part of the rules.

“Hyun, what’s got you so upset? I can just smell the disappointment radiating from you.” Felix calls out, bending down to open their mini-fridge, the poor thing littered with stupid stickers of Pokemon and other random things. Hyunjin sighs again, this time louder as he throws his head back against the armrest, a soft thump coming from the impact. Hyunjin lifts his head up with a pout, his hand coming up to rub the dull throb residing on the back of his head. Felix lets out a chuckle, standing fully with a can of soda in his hand. Felix makes his way to the couch, tapping Hyunjin’s long, slim legs, a gesture telling the male to lift them up. Hyunjin lifts his legs, allowing Felix to sit where they previously were. Hyunjin lays his legs down on Felix’s lap, liking the way the younger male rubs little shapes on his skin.

Felix’s hands are always warm, even after holding a cold soda or a cold beer in his grip. Hyunjin likes to feel the blonde’s hands dancing across his bare skin, soft, supple skin stroking him in all the right places. Of course they’ve hooked up. They’re both healthy young adults who have needs, needs that can’t be ignored for too long. Oftentimes, Felix will waltz his way into Hyunjin’s room and crawl under Hyunjin’s soft blankets. Hyunjin is a light sleeper, so any movement in his bed causes him to stir, his eyes squinting to adjust to the darkness of his bedroom. Felix doesn’t have to say anything, Hyunjin already knows the poor boy had a nightmare and needs a distraction. Well, Hyunjin’s idea of a distraction is filling the male full of his throbbing cock until tears are streaming down Felix’s freckled cheeks.

“I can’t seem to find a model for my visual arts class. I’ve asked literally everyone. Not a single person said yes! Even Chan hyung said no!” Hyunjin whines, his hands covering his eyes as his lips contort in a pout. “And you know Chan hyung loves to be naked at all times of the day, so why would he say no?”

“Maybe because he doesn’t want to sit in a single pose for so many hours?” Felix asks, taking a sip of his soda, his eyes on Hyunjin. “Besides, you didn’t ask everyone. You didn’t ask me.”

“I can’t paint the same person if I’ve already painted them once. I painted you for my final exam last semester, remember?” Hyunjin says, uncovering his eyes to look at Felix as he speaks. He had gotten a near-perfect score on that painting, and it currently sits in the school’s very own art gallery.

Felix hums, remembering having to sit on the grass of the school’s garden, yellow flowers of all kinds surrounding him. He had a good time, except for when a bee decided to land on a flower that was next to his shoulder. Hyunjin’s wide eyes totally gave it away that there was something creeping beside Felix and soon enough, Felix was darting out of the patch of flowers.

“So, I don’t know who to ask at this point. I could always paint myself, but then I would have to take pictures of myself and choose the one that’s best. That would take too long, so my best choice is to just paint someone else.” Hyunjin sighs, grabbing his phone to go through his contacts for the millionth time that day, hoping that he missed someone.

“Wait, I might know someone who can help. I think you know him, he’s in your creative writing class.” Felix says, and Hyunjin is lost. He doesn’t talk to a lot of people in his creative writing class, most of the people around him donning headphones of various brands and kinds. Now that he thinks about it, there is one person he does talk to and has had plenty of nice conversations with.

Kang Y/N, a rather quiet individual with a soft smile that happens to match his overall vibe. He’s a nice guy, always jumping to help anyone who needs it, whether that be studying or helping get rid of a nasty hangover. He just draws people in, the type of person you can’t bring yourself to hate. Only because he would probably just apologize for upsetting you enough to hate him.

“Oh, yeah? Who is it, I’m so desperate at this point, Lix. I will literally paint Professor Shindong, it’s that serious.” Hyunjin says, trying to fight the shiver that creeps up his body as he imagines his professor naked.

Felix lets out a loud snort, coughing as he covers his mouth and nose, fizzy liquid seeping in between his fingers. Through his coughing fit, his body thrashes with giggles and cackles alike. Why would Hyunjin put that cursed image in his head? Might as well add that to his list of nightmares.

Felix finally calms down, wiping his wet hand on Hyunjin’s bare leg, causing the black haired male to playfully kick him in the side. “Let's not even go there. No, I’m talking about Y/N. You know, the same guy who gave Johnny a lapdance at his party?”

How could anyone forget that night? It was truly… something. Everyone was drunk off their asses, some people stripping out of their clothes, some others dancing on tables. Bodies grinding against one another as the music courses through their drunken veins. Hyunjin and Felix had been there to experience the entire thing, even if the two were also very intoxicated. A game of truth of dare had broken out, and everyone resorted back to their middle-school selves, giggling as they grabbed their friends to join in on the circle of other party-goers. Hyunjin was dragged into the circle with Felix, the two of them stumbling as they fell on top of each other, eliciting laughs from everyone around them. They played the game, doing any dare that was thrown at them. The game got interesting when you were asked to give the birthday boy a special lap dance in celebration. You agreed with a nonchalant shrug, influenced by alcohol and weed, quickly made your way to Johnny, who was sitting on the couch, holding a conversation with his fellow hockey player teammates.

You just swung your legs over Johnny’s lap, the bigger male’s eyes widening as he welcomed the newfound weight on his lap. You rolled your hips in circles, your arms wrapped loosely around Johnny’s neck, feeling his growing length under your ass.

Everyone stopped to look at the two of you, some people gasping while others cheered you on. Someone even threw a ten dollar bill at you. Once you felt that Johnny’s lap dance went on long enough, you peeled yourself off of him, going back to join the circle, a sultry sway of your hips as you walked. The night ended with Felix and Hyunjin stumbling into their dorm room, the both of them passing out as soon as the door shut behind them.

“Oh, god,” Hyunjin starts his face lighting up as he remembers the night. “It was Y/N who gave Johnny a lap dance! You would never expect that from him, but to be fair, he was drunk.”

Felix nodded as he took in Hyunjin’s words. “Why don’t you ask him to be your model? You know who he is, so he isn’t a total stranger.”

Hyunjin thought about it for a second. Felix had a point, you really weren’t a stranger to him, you shared a class together. You both often helped each other with writing assignments that had you stumped, and whenever you would see each other outside of class you always offered a smile and a wave to Hyunjin. Every single time you flash that pretty smile at him, Hyunjin can see the lights of heaven calling to him from above.

“I’m convinced and desperate. Do you have his number?”

It isn’t often that you sit on a wooden stool, all of your clothes discarded as you look off to your right, looking out of the window, a solemn look on your delicate features. Actually, this is the first time you have ever done anything like this. Curse you and your need to please people when they ask you for a favor. Your left leg is crossed over your lower half, covering up your soft length. The window casts a soft yellowy-orange glow all over your naked body. You were testing out a few poses while you waited for Hyunjin to return with his mixed paint.

(Of course you have done some questionable things during your time in college, the most memorable one being that time you gave Johnny, the captain of the school’s hockey team, a lap dance at his birthday party last year. You were absolutely hammered that night, and Johnny never held that against you. The two of you still laugh about it to this day.)

Hyunjin stands in amazement as he stares as you pose so prettily on his wooden stool just a few short steps in front of his XXX-Large canvas. He knows he should probably start painting before he gets caught staring at you, but he simply can’t help it. He was surprised when you agreed to be his model, and he was even more surprised when you still agreed to be his model when he failed to mention that you had to be nude. He assumes it's because you’re the type who can’t find it in yourself to say no to anyone. He was shocked when you replied to his text pretty quickly, agreeing to model for him, asking for other details.

Hyunjin shakes his head to remind himself that he has work to do and gets his paint, quickly mixing the colors he needs. Then, a lightbulb goes off in his head. He takes a look at his mixed paint tins, examining the colors. His eyes are darting back and forth, looking at the paint and your skin. He chews on his bottom lip before he picks up a deep brown color that’s almost black.

“Hey, Y/N?” he calls to you softly, his cheeks heating up when you turn your head to look at him, a soft ‘hm?’ coming from you, your eyes wide and curious to hear what he has to say.

“Is it okay if I place a hand mark on your thigh? I think it’ll look good for the theme of the painting,” Hyunjin asks softly, his head tilting to the side as he waits for your approval or disapproval.

“Hyunjin, I’m simply your model, a lifeless doll for you to move and shape to fit your vision. If you feel that a hand print is what will set you apart from the others, then go ahead.”

Hyunjin could listen to you speak forever. You have such a way with words, it’s easy for him to get lost in the words you speak. Hyunjin might not survive for long if you keep buttering him up with the words you say to him and the way you say them.

“Of course, I think the pose you were in was perfect as it was. So, if you could pose like that again, that would be perfect.” He says, covering his hand in a deep brown paint that he mixed up just a few minutes ago.

Hyunjin’s hand is shaky as he walks over to you, his eyes scanning the naked expanse of your soft, milky skin. He counts the blemishes of your skin, noticing that you have beauty marks of various sizes and colors littering your skin. He makes a mental note to include those very marks in his painting. Hyunjin stands in front of you, his mind swimming with thoughts of you, and how truly honored he is to see you in such a soft light, naked and looking as beautiful as ever. He lifts his shaky hand and carefully places it on your bare thigh, not missing the way your leg jolts at the contact.

“I didn’t expect it to be cold,” you let out a chuckle, relaxing once you get past the initial chill of the paint. You feel the warmth of Hyunjin’s hand on your thigh, and your cheeks and ears warm up, finally coming to terms that you are indeed naked in front of your crush. You crushed on Hyunjin from afar, deciding to just adore him from a distance, your friends attempting to hype you up to get you to actually speak to the male. That is until he spoke to you for the first time in class, his eyebrows furrowed, his expression telling you that he didn’t quite understand the assignment. You mentally squealed as you explained the assignment in a way he could understand. From then on, the two of you would have a conversation every day in class, giving each other ideas.

“Sorry about that, I hoped my hand would warm it up enough so that it wouldn’t be so cold,” Hyunjin explains, removing his hand from your thigh, already missing the way your soft skin feels under his touch. “How about we get started? Just pose how you were a second ago, and keep that same expression on your face.”

As Hyunjin adds the final touches to his painting, you are in the bathroom, washing the paint off your leg. You hope the painting looks exactly how he wants it to, otherwise this would have been a waste of time. Well, not exactly a waste, you and Hyunjin had an amazing conversation as he painted you, the two of you learning more about each other to pass the time. You learned that Hyunjin has a pet at home who he loves dearly, and that he loves to paint vases with flowers in them. You also learned that he is pretty close friends with your cousin, Changbin.

Hyunjin also learned a few things about you, the most shocking thing being how you are somehow related to Changbin. You had told him many stories of your childhood with Changbin and how big of a crybaby he was back then. Hyunjin wonders how someone like Changbin, extremely muscular and dedicated to working out, could be such a crybaby as a young kid. You and Changbin are so different, you being on the quieter side, with a soft voice and a soft face to match, while Changbin is a walking tornado siren, his voice distinct and commanding. Hyunjin also learned that you major in English literature, and that you want to become a writer one day. He smiled at the way you lit up as you spoke about writing and how it makes you feel, your eyes shining under the lights of his art studio.

He hears you step out of the bathroom, and he feels your warmth behind him, your hand placed gently on his shoulder, his skin burning under his sweater where your hand lies.

A soft gasp leaves your lips as you stare at the painting. It’s truly breathtaking, you’ve never seen yourself look so… soft and ethereal. No picture could ever capture you the way Hyunjin did. Hyunjin captured your solemn expression perfectly, adding sparkling tears falling down your cheeks. He painted every single detail of your body, every blemish and scar. He even included the splotchy birthmark on your right hip and the small bunny tattoo on the inner part of your arm. The handprint on your thigh is what catches your attention next, Hyunjin made it look smeared, wrapping around the meat of your thigh, tying the painting together perfectly.

“Oh my gosh, Hyunjin..” You start, and Hyunjin swivels his head around to look at you, a soft red on his cheeks as he just smiles cheekily at you. “This is amazing! How do you do it?” You comment your eyes not leaving the painting for a second.

“Well, when your model is as pretty as you are, you find motivation to make sure you capture that beauty perfectly.”

You gawk as you finally look at Hyunjin, your jaw dropped open slightly. He thinks you’re pretty? You can’t help the way your heart beats heavily in your chest that you can feel it reverberating in your ears. You watch as Hyunjin stands up, his taller frame looming over you. Hyunjin doesn’t miss the way his wine red silk robe hangs on your frame, the material falling off your shoulders. You look up at him with wide eyes, face warm and lips slightly parted. Hyunjin brings a hand up to cup your cheek, his eyes searching yours for any discomfort or rejection. When he doesn’t find any, he slowly leans in close to you, and you meet him in the middle, your parted lips connecting with his as you both close your eyes.

Your lips mold together easily, the two of you quickly adding your tongues to the mix. Hyunjin’s tongue fights with yours, saliva gathering at the corners of your mouth as a soft whimper spills from you, your legs feeling weak from the feeling of Hyunjin’s lips on yours. Hyunjin pulls away from you for a second, chuckling as you chase his lips for more kisses.

“Patience, little doll, we wouldn’t want your pretty portrait to get ruined, right?” He says, taking the painting to dry in another area of the room where it won’t get ruined. As he’s placing the finished painting aside, his eyes land on a blank canvas that’s the same size as the one he just placed down to dry. He grabs the blank canvas, placing it on the floor as you stare in confusion.

“Hyunjin, what are you doing with that? You aren’t starting another piece, are you?” You question, your head tilted to the side as you watch Hyunjin retrieve two mid sized buckets of paint. One bucket has dried and crusty paint coating the rim, the color a pastel blue that reminds you of the hydrangeas that your grandmother grew. The other bucket looks like it’s maybe a soft pink color. As you get close to look at the name on the metal bucket, you see that it reads ‘dusty rose.’ You had never heard of such a color, you wondered if it was dark or light. You may not know everything under the sun about colors, but the required art classes you took during your school years have taught you plenty.

Hyunjin uses a flat tool to pop both lids of the paint buckets open, then he looks at you with a faux-innocent smile on his pretty face. There’s something swimming in his dark brown eyes, you can see it. “I want to make a masterpiece with you, little doll.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you catch on to what he means. He can’t really be serious, can he? This is something right out of a raunchy movie about a girl having a dom-sub relationship with a rich CEO that she works for.

“Wait, you want us to– have sex on that canvas?” You question him, your voice small and quiet as you chew on your lip waiting for Hyunjin to reply to your question.

“Only if you're comfortable, I won’t do anything that could make you uncomfortable. If you would much rather us fuck on my bed, that’s fine by me.” Hyunjin says with a smile, his eyes searching your face for any sign of uncomfortableness, but he’s only seeing a bit of uncertainty and a large amount of lust. That’s a good sign to him, you’re still in the mood to fool around with him, you just need a little bit of a push.

“I– I mean, it could be interesting..” You say, trailing off as you have an internal battle with yourself. Did you really want to have sex with Hyunjin on top of a canvas, the two of you covered in paint as you roll around making shapes with your bodies? You would be stupid to say no to something like that.

“I need a real answer, cutie. Yes, or no.” Hyunjin says, now standing in front of you as he lifts your chin up with his fingers, making you look up at him. You gulp as you stare at him, trying to find your voice.

“Yes, Hyunjin.”

You find yourself covered in pastel blue paint, Hyunjin using his hands to rub the paint all over your naked body as he kisses you with fervor. Hyunjin stands before you, his body rid of all clothes, his lean body on display for your eyes. You think he looks like a god. The once orange light of the room, now darker as the night creeps in, dances across his body, turning his sepia colored skin a few shades darker. The sun is slowly sinking away to sleep, allowing the calmness of the night to take over.

Hyunjin pulls away from the kiss and grabs the bucket of dusty rose paint, and prompts you to cover him in the paint as he did for you just a few minutes ago. And you obey, dipping your hands into the chilly paint, and you lightly shake off any excess that drips down your fingers. You bring your hands up to coat Hyunjin’s soft skin that reminds you of those tasty shortbread cookies you receive during the holidays. Your soft hands rub up and down his slim body, your mind racing as you wonder how you ended up here. The intense lust overrides all, taking over any doubts you may have had.

Hyunjin locks his lips with yours again, his eyes closing as he hums into your mouth. You swallow any noise that leaves him, your fingers gripping his supple flesh as you dip your hands in the paint one last time. A sly smile crosses your face as you bring both hands around Hyunjin, lightly slapping your hands on his ass. His body jumps a little, not expecting such an action from you. He feels your hands grip his ass, a cute but evil laugh bubbling in your chest.

“So it’s like that, huh?” Hyunjin questions, cocking one of his perfect eyebrows. He stares down at you as you nod.

Hyunjin just shakes his head as he guides you to lay down on the canvas, his body hovering over your own body. Hyunjin trails kisses form your lips all the way to your neck, leaving a light sheen of saliva in their wake. You tangle your hands in Hyunjin’s long, black hair and you untie the hair tie that’s keeping his hair contained and out of his face. The hair falls gracefully, framing Hyunjin’s face perfectly. You feel goosebump litter your skin as his hair tickles your cheeks.

As you keep kissing Hyunjin, his body laid on top of your skin, sticky from the paint, his body is keeping your legs spread. He’s rocking his body upwards, his soft abs rubbing against your growing length, causing you to moan softly into his parted mouth. His tongue is licking into your mouth, tasting the sweet pastries you ate before you arrived at his dorm. The taste is intoxicating to him, he just can’t stop kissing you. He loves how soft your lips are against his, and how they faintly taste like mint. You can feel the desperation in the way he kisses and touches you, the way his hands roam your body, the paint mixing together, creating a marble-like effect.

“I could kiss you all damn day,” Hyunjin pants out when he finally pulls away to allow you both to catch your breath. Your body is buzzing with excitement, the feeling of Hyunjin’s creamy and soft skin rubbing against your hard length causes a pulsing thrill to course through your veins. Hyunjin can feel the precome leaking from your tip as it coats his body, giving him a nice glide as he continues to rub all on you.

The sound of a door opening shakes both of you out of your dazed and lustful trances. You both turn your attention to the door wide eyed as the person pokes their head into the room. Your body immediately heats up as your eyes land on a mop of blonde hair. Blonde hair that belongs to your gaming partner, Felix. If you weren’t so clouded with high desire and lust, you would be embarrassed. But the fact that you’ve been caught under Hyunjin’s naked body makes your veins tingle.

Felix’s soft brown eyes flick back and forth between you and Hyunjin, his eyebrows furrowed and a slight frown settling on his freckled face. You’re a little confused, why does he look like a kicked puppy? Is he upset that you and Hyunjin are engaging in such an intimate state of affairs? You want to cradle his face and kiss his frown away.

“Oh no, Y/N. We forgot to include poor Lixie. What kind of friends are we?” Hyunjin says as he looks at Felix. Hyunjin waves Felix over, gesturing for the blonde to join in. Felix walks into the art studio, his eyes falling on your body. He takes in the way your legs are spread open, the pastel blue paint coating your skin, with small amounts of dusty rose paint mixed in. He so desperately wants to join you and Hyunjin, and he’s almost positive that you want him to join in as well.

As Felix stands there, not entirely sure what to do, you speak up. “Hyunjin, is Lixie going to be joining us?” You ask.

“We have to make it up to him somehow, don’t you think?” Hyunjin says, and you nod in agreement. Felix’s face warms up, his cheeks and ears turning a soft red color as his heart pounds heavily in his chest. “Come on, Lixie. Get undressed and join us.”

Felix wastes absolutely no time in ridding himself of his clothes. Once he’s fully nude, he kneels down beside your head, his length hanging heavily between his legs. You examine his naked skin, noticing that his freckles don’t stop at his cheeks. You notice the light scattering of freckles on his thighs and stomach and you want to kiss every single freckle.

Hyunjin helps you sit up, and he stands up. “Why don’t you make it up to him, Y/N. Give him plenty of kisses to show how sorry you are for leaving him out. I’ll be back in just a sec.” Hyunjin says as he goes to get some more paint for Felix.

You turn your body and look deep into Felix’s eyes. You notice flecks of light brown in his eyes. His pupils are blown wide as he looks from your eyes to your lips and back again. You both lean in at the same time, meeting in the middle as your lips connect. Kissing Felix is very different from Hyunjin. Felix’s lips aren’t as soft as Hyunjin’s, and the chapped skin rubs against your own lips in just the right way. Fe;ix slides his tongue inside your mouth as his hands find their place on your hips, rubbing little circles on the flesh there. You hum into his mouth as you scoot closer to him, and you find yourself on top of him as he pushes your hips to grind your hard cocks together.

Hyunjin watches you both make out for a while until he’s setting a paint bucket down, causing you to break your kiss with Felix, but not once letting up on the grinding.

“Y/N, why don’t you cover Lixie in some paint? We wouldn’t want to leave him out of this masterpiece, would we?”

After you all are messy and covered in paint, you find yourself on your back as Hyunjin is buried deep inside you, his hips moving at the pace of a snail. Felix is hovering over your head, his cock buried inside your wet, warm mouth. Hyunjin and Felix are kissing messily above you, drops of their mixed saliva falling on your body. You’re whining, the sound slightly muffled by Felix’s cock being forced down your throat. It burns a little, but not in a bad way. You were no stranger to giving blowjobs, but you’ve never taken one that was the size of Felix. He was huge, to be frank. His cock is thick too, you wonder how someone as slim as him could live with such a monster cock. His cock stretches your throat nicely, it makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Look, Lixie. Our little doll’s eyes are rolling to the back of his head. I guess we’re doing a good job of stuffing his holes.” Hyunjin teases and you can hear Felix chuckle as he thrusts into your mouth, and you can feel his short wiry pubic hair touch your chin. You let out a choked noise when he does, spit falling from the corners of your mouth.

“I guess so, Hyun. I have an idea, though.” Felix says, pulling out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting between your bottom lip and the tip of his cock. He sits back on his heels as he watches Hyunjin stop the slow thrusts of his hips. “Let’s see who can make our little doll cum the fastest, yeah?” Felix says, knowing Hyunjin can’t resist a little competition.

“That’s a perfect idea, Lixie. Why don’t I go first since I’m already inside him?” Hyunjin says. Felix agrees as he grabs his phone to keep track of the time. He sits down by your head again and he starts the time.

Once Hyunjin gets the go-ahead, he starts to slam into you at a brutal pace, causing you to arch your back off the canvas. You let out a high-pitched whine as you feel his hands grab onto your left leg, placing the limb over his shoulder so he can pound into your tight heat much deeper. You cry out, Hyunjin’s name falling from your lips as your body bounces from the force of his thrusts.

Hyunjin grunts continuously as he loses himself in the pleasure. His dark hair is sticking to his forehead and his neck as the small art studio quickly heats up. He can feel the sweat dripping down his body, little drops falling from his nose and into his mouth. He brings his hand to wrap around your angry length, stroking it fast and matching the pace of his hips rocking into you. It doesn’t take long for you to cry out, long and loud, as you spill all over Hyunjin’s hand, the milky white liquid splashing onto your chest. Your body shakes with pleasure as you feel Hyunjin paint your inner walls white with his release. He pumps himself inside you a few more times before he pulls out, watching as the white liquid drips out of your hole.

“Four minutes and twenty-two seconds, Hyun.” Felix says turning his phone to Hynnjin to prove that he isn’t lying.

“Huh, not half bad. Think you can do better, Lixie?’ Hyunjin says. There’s a teasing lightness to his voice, and Felix tuts, handing the older male his phone.

“Tch, of course I can do better. Just watch me.” Felix says as he crawls over to you. He helps you get on your hands and knees. You let him move you, your mind still reeling from the way Hyunjin just railed you like it was nothing.

As you hold yourself up as best as you can, you feel Felix’s length slide its way into you. You feel full, a soft whimper falling from your lips. Hyunjin starts the clock, and Felix is fully inside you, his tip kissing your prostate without him even having to try. He lets you adjust for a few short seconds until he’s absolutely slamming into you. He hits your prostate dead on, and you can already feel that tight coil in your gut beginning to unravel. You let out a string of curses as Felix abuses your hole, your cock dripping in between your legs. You can’t hold it anymore at this point, and you feel yourself gushing all over the canvas below you. You cry out, tears falling down your cheeks as overstimulation takes over your body. You feel your arms giving out as they wobble. Hyunjin, acting fast, makes sure you don’t fall flat on your face as he slides under your upper body, allowing you to fall into his lap. Your ass is still up in the air, your hips held tightly in Felix’s hands. He thrusts a few more times and he finds himself spilling into you, his cum mixing with Hyunjin’s. He pulls out of you, using his thumb to push any cum that attempts to drip out of you.

“Well, looks like you win, Lixie. Three minutes and seven seconds.” Hyunjin says. There’s a pout on his face, not really liking the idea of losing. He’ll have to get over it, because the only thing he’s worried about right now is making sure he and Felix didn’t break you. He strokes your hair as you lay on his lap, breathing heavily, your body twitching every few seconds as you come down from such an intense high.

“We should really clean up. The paint is drying and getting crusty.” Felix says, picking at the soft purple paint that’s drying on his skin. Hyunjin nods, and a smirk creeps onto his face.

“Round two in the shower?”

Oh good lord. Someone please help you.

#binnies req #stray kids #kpop x male reader #stray kids x male reader #stray kids smut #kpop x reader #male reader #skz x reader #hyunjin x reader #felix x reader #stray kids x reader

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scarlovebot · 11 months

Text

FRUIT AND VEGETABLES

Natasha romanoff x female reader

Summary: You burn your tongue on something hot, Natasha knows how to help.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧

“Son of a bitch” slurping the remainder of your food whilst mumbling in pain.

you had been told that your eating habits were childlike: refusal to eat anything that a bunny rabbit would, no crusts on your sandwiches, hangry and lastly, you don’t think before you actually eat.

So this is how you ended up with another sore tongue, the ramen that let off boiling hot steam now sat in front of you ever so appealing - considering the fact it was now 70% saliva due to spitting the food back inside because of the mouth burning heat.

You see, Wanda loves to cook, it’s her favourite hobby and pass time which is great for everyone - except for you.

The young witch whips up different dishes daily which look and smell divine however yourself, isn’t allowed any.

It’s a rule that fruit and vegetables have to be eaten with each meal yet you couldn’t possibly put such devilish things inside your mouth, you were not going to even try. they turned your stomach upside down, how could anyone eat what the creatures that live on the floor eat??? It was beyond you.

So now it had become a rule and punishment that if the vitamins and minerals remain on your plate, you would no longer be allowed to eat ANY of Wandas meals (this even included dessert, yes apple pie was a big no no).

if you wanted to act like a child you were going to get treated like one.

Therefore, this is how you ended up with a burnt tongue. Instant ramen sounded much more delicious than Wandas English inspired roast dinner anyway, or so you told yourself.

You weren’t totally excluded at meal times, although eating different foods from everyone else you were still welcomed at the dining room table. Now nine times out of ten you would happily sit there, in between the chef herself and your girlfriend Natasha.

Yet today was different, you felt angry towards the group because the dessert of the evening had changed. Originally it was a vanilla cheesecake without a piece of fruit in sight, yet you later found out and only a couple hours before dinner service that the menu had changed to a pineapple upside down cake. Absolutely not you thought.

Since being told that horrendous news you made it known of your annoyance towards everyone. Rolling your eyes at any noise that came out of their two faced mouths, purposely shoving into their shoulders when they were a few inches away and the cherry on top of it all, hogging the television which you didn’t plan on batting a single eyelid to.

that stupid pineapple cake really did ruin your entire day.

The plans of having a group meal flew out the window, as your family sat with plates full of dinner, you remained on the sofa shooting death glares at each and every single one of them - with the pot of ramen.

No, you couldn’t possibly sit with them after the betrayal so instead chose the violent route.

The terrible twos had turned into terrible twenties.

Paying no attention to the delicacy that was about to pay instant karma, you gather a large portion of the noodles between each chopstick and aimed right for your mouth.

As the searing noodles made contact with your mouth a yelp echoed, wincing in agony, swallowing what was left in that bite.

Curse words fell effortlessly of your tongue

Simultaneously, all eyes fell onto you in amusement yet concern. This being a familiar site that they would normally cater to help, however your little temper tantrum throughout the day didn’t help the current situation.

Running your fingers across your rough lips, feeling the irritation rise on the sensitive skin. Eyes welling in tears, streaming droplets fell one by one down your flushed cheeks.

the dining table remained seated, conversations presumed like normal with very little acknowledgment towards the hurt individual that sat before them.

Feeling a soft hand make contact with your damp chin, the delicate grip guiding your face to meet eyes with the only person who mattered right now.

“I know you’re a hardass, but that’s gotta be painful тигр” the women spoke with sincerity, a gentleness you needed in this moment.

nodding in confirmation, she kneeled down to your level, her hands wiping away the salty tears that began to stain their place on your crimson cheeks.

Her soft, vanilla scented lips made sudden contact with your rough, blistered pair.

her tongue gained granted access, covering all corners of your charred mouth. the pain excluded almost immediately, healed by Natasha’s adoration to you and only you.

She pulled away in slow motion, a smirk forming on her face. Your mouth stabilised to a content smile, the dinner that displayed in front of you was much tastier than anything before.

“малыш, you need to learn patience” she said as both hands cupped the width of your teary face “and eat your vegetables” finishing with a playful and teasing smile.

rolling your eyes in slight confirmation, you leaned in again hungry for more of her magical touch.

From now on you made sure to eat your fruit and vegetables, or at least try just for Natasha.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #marvel #black widow

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wmarximoff · 2 years

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(don't fear) the reaper | w. maximoff

|spooktober collection|

summary: Wanda Maximoff is a troubled young woman, and she knows it very well. she can't help but to want you so badly, in such a sick way, even though you don't even know she exists. driven by curiosity, she decides to enter your house while you are away. but there, she finds something that was not what she expected from someone like you.

warnings (18+): serial killer!reader, stalker!Wanda, graphic depiction of dead body, mentions of dismemberment, smoking, choking, graphic depiction of blood, gun play, knife kink, skin carving, strap-on sex, heavy degradation, manipulation, toxic relationship, bottom!Wanda, top!reader.

pairing: Wanda x fem!reader

word count: 14k

A/N: okay, this one is purely sinful, but it was particularly interesting to write because i'm a bit of a weirdo and i enjoy good psychological horror as much as anyone. i hope you guys like this weird thing as much as i do.

A/N²: turned it into a series!

༺ᱬ༻

The warm sun shone high in the blue sky as the humid dawn began, continuing on until midday at lunchtime. It was a thaw out day, without any cloud to be pointed out in the emergence of the celestial vault, holder of a pure air carried straight from the newly sown vegetation, mild and quite pleasant to the lungs that inspired it. An ideal end to a tranquil morning.

Along that wide space, the less discerning ear might still be able to pick up the vibrating hums that the sets of hundreds of young college students parroted in the midst of their own conversations all held at the end of the university cafeteria, echoing in their own encapsulated lives around you, each one being the protagonist of their own story as the conversations outside the table where you were accompanied by your friends were stimulated, like flies in an impetuous back-and-forth.

Just people, several of them, from all sides, sinking you into an endless hole. People. Lots and lots of people. And then there was you, just sitting there, like a small island lacking in vegetation floating dry in the midst of a sea of people, hovering above them, never sinking below the tide. You, always hovering on high. Looking at them, looking down. Existing on top of them, alongside them, but never on their level. Scrutinizing the huddle of people that didn't even reach your knees.

“And then Natasha just fell, can you believe it? Like, right there! She fell flat on her face and everything in front of everyone like a sack of potatoes, I don't know. It was a pretty bad fall, I swear!”

The blonde girl’s tone, Yelena, had been loud and amused, lively, which prompted a wave of laughter that rippled through the table like a television show—you and her and two more girls and a boy. Laughing like them, mimicking their quip in a rehearsed performance, intricating yourself within the group like a slithering snake.

“Yeah, and like,” went on yet another girl with sun-colored hair cropped short above her ears, a militaristic haircut that accentuated her strong jaw – it was Carol Danvers who was standing right in front of the seat taken over by Yelena, sitting next to you as she always would.

“I didn't even have time to hold her before she fell to the ground. The ball came too fast and she just lost her balance. It was like a cannonball, really.”

Your chin was supplanted by your own right hand, the crook of your elbow then braced on the table, your face bent at an angle of laconic interest to whatever it was that Yelena Belova narrated in Carol's company so impetuously to the audience of their friends sitting around their own dark plastic trays, munching on bits of preservative-infested reheated food.

Maybe it was some childhood story, or maybe even the practice of the softball program that she, the Danvers girl, and Yelena's older sister, Natasha, a student in her final year, all participated together. Just people around you. Faces of people articulating authentic empathies – and you laughed because it was funny, a sign popping up in your brain with the command “laugh”. It should be funny, as funny as a court jester engaging in acts of naughty mischief just to avoid being beheaded at the behest of a pompous medieval king.

“Nebula has a real problem working as a team, man,” Yelena gestured with her own right hand, “Like, she just had to play for Nat–”

“Hey, did you guys hear?” It was, however, Kate Bishop's voice that approached from behind her shoulder, as she placed her tray next to hers on the surface of the long rectangular table, not bothering to get in the way of the golden-haired young lady's speech.

“Heard about what, huh?” Then questioned the other young woman, turning to Kate with an air of irritation, “I was telling a story here you know–”

“Christine is missing.”

Yelena instantly quieted, like a radio unplugged. Both of your eyebrows, however, curled up between your forehead at the profusely dark-haired girl who snuggled close to your left elbow, she nibbling on a withered potato chip, you squinting with your eyes towards your friend's face, turning your face to hers in a quick jerk of your neck that only expressed concern smoldering in your well-behaved body language.

“Wait, what do you mean? Christine? Christine Palmer? That Christine?”

“Yeah,” mussed Kate then, who had drawn the others' attention to herself with her new information brought to the conversation, “That Christine. She disappeared.”

The whiteness of a frosty blanket of snow, which had once made it uniformly carpet the intermittences of the streets of the great city on an excellently smoothed white surface, had liquefied into puddles of itself; the flowers all bloomed to the addition of an avid polychromatic panorama, highlighting the vast green of the Central Park trees encompassed by the expanse of the extensive buildings and the slender poles that protruded from the New York City underground subway.

It was time, then, for the firstfruits of the start of another semester of a particularly boisterous spring, time for sporting events and fundraisers, fraternities organizing reception parties for freshmen.

The sun, gleaming, shimmered in the middle of the clear sky, and, therefore, that was the germination of resplendent spring times, leaning over the glass and concrete that made up the structures of the city – thus, even at dawn, the vast streets of cement and asphalt that were structured in endless chains of cobblestone at the ends of the metropolis were already buzzing with the commercial actions of their energetic residents, true characters moving the machinery of the city that never sleeps.

It was as if the climate of fullness was incapable of suffering any misfortune whatsoever, as if nothing could shake the good mood of a hot season that compelled a daily wear of lighter and shorter clothes, the purchase of popsicles on a stick and cans of sweetened, soft drinks; yet there was Kate serving as a harbinger of doom, announcing to everyone that a classmate of yours had disappeared. A gloomy cloud stooped over the sunniness of that day.

Michelle Jones-Watson, informally nicknamed as just MJ, locked eyes with the young woman who had just arrived at the table in a lavender shirt and dark jeans. You hadn't exchanged many words with her, but like everyone else, keeping her around was just critical to the existence of your public persona.

“Is Christine that senior redhead?” then MJ's gaze fell on your figure across the table, “Isn't she in med class with you, Y/n?”

“She is, yes,” you nodded with a stiff nod, your upper lip jutting out to the damp commission of your lower lip, “She’s one of the best students in our class.”

“But she's not as good as you, I'll bet,” Carol half offered you a gallant smirk, but your eyes rolled slowly enough to allow time for a comical air to bloom in their sockets in a dignified modesty of a cartoon maiden. She was courting you, of course, and you knew that very well – but sometimes ignorance, performative or otherwise, could be a bliss.

“Stop it, she really is one of the best students there! Like, really. The teachers actually like her, you know.”

“But hey, weren't you, like, going out with her?” Peter Parker added back to the initial train of thought, MJ's boyfriend, both of whom held the position of being the youngest in your circle of friends, “You guys kissed at Tony's New Year's party, we all saw that.”

“We've only met a few times at parties last semester," you shrugged like it was nothing, as if this information was nothing more than a stray lint on the collar of your shirt.

“And… well, we slept together once or twice, yeah… but we weren't dating or anything. She's just not really into that sort of thing, I guess.”

“But wait, wait,” Yelena interjected as she furrowed her thick dark brows, then turned them to Kate, “Is Christine that redhead dressed as a nurse who downed those tequila shots with Darcy? How... how’s she missing? Like, she’s just... gone? Just like that, out of the blue?”

“Yeah, what do you mean?” your eyes followed the same path the blonde girl had, turning to your other friend with a big question curling your lips. Your concern was like raising a baby lion in your backyard – feed it, care for it, have fun with it. Pretend that one day it won't grow up and rip your arm off in a vicious bite.

“Where did you hear that? I mean, I've noticed that Christine hasn't been showing up to a few classes lately, but,” and then an incredulous chuckle escaped the back of your throat as you shrugged in a rather confused way.

“Damn, missing? Man, that's kind of... extreme, isn't it? Like there's a crime or some shit like that.”

“Well, that's what I hear,” Kate took another potato chip from the pile strewn across her tray.

“Darcy said she overheard Miss Foster saying something about it during her internship. Apparently Christine has been missing for a week and the dean is really worried about her, but they aren't willing to bring it up until her parents approve of them doing so. I think even the police are involved and everything, there's a whole investigation going on and stuff. The girl disappeared, like, really. Out of nowhere. She’s just… just gone.”

Although the cafeteria was just an amalgamation of alien conversations that mingled in midair, between your friends there was a wintry silence, pairs of eyes exchanging uncertain glances like playing cards; no one knew the joker was in your possession. It was as if there was a dome enclosing all of you inside it – Kate had dictated the rules of an imaginary game, and whoever broke them first would lose. Tension could be felt thickening the air curling inside your throat.

“Nobody disappears out of nowhere,” whispered Peter when no one else did, “You don't think that anyone... that anyone has done anything to her, do you?”

“Damn, so this is serious,” mussed Yelena under her breath, “What the fuck, man...”

“Didn't you talk to her before that, Y/n?” Michelle questioned you, to which you just shook your head in denial.

“No, I didn't talk to her anymore...” and then a sigh of blistering indignant air left both of your nostrils, “Dammit, but can't we do anything? A search party or something? I can't believe the dean is trying to hush up the case – for Christ's sake, a girl is missing and they're not going to do anything about it?! This is so fucked up!”

“Hey, hey, easy there, knight on the white horse,” the palm of Carol's robust right hand, an accomplished jock with an athletic nature, rested on the bone of your left shoulder. She would always be the first to try to soothe your nerves because she hoped to also nurse the unease between your thighs someday.

“Just let the police handle this, okay? Don't go out trying to play vigilante by going around trying to take justice into your own hands, you'll only get in trouble. Plus the girl is a senior, she probably just had an existential crisis and left everything behind or some shit like that. Or even she's just wasted at someone's house around. A lot could have happened to her.”

“Or maybe she just decided to jump off a bridge,” snapped MJ's sardonic humor, her elbows resting against the face of the table at which she received a sharp, chastising look from you, “What?”

“That's not funny, man, she's missing. This is serious.”

But the failed attempt to bring a veil of humor to lighten the mood on the blonde girl's part, even more when interspersed with Michelle's bad joke, did nothing to calm your spirits in front of your other friends, “And no, not her. Not Christine, she wouldn't have done any of that. No… it's not like her to do that kind of thing.”

“You,” called Peter with his bunny brown eyes, “You and her… are you sure you guys weren't dating, Y/n?”

“Yeah, man,” Yelena’s amber gaze then flicked up to your face, emulating a pitiful benevolence that would be solemnly reserved for a widowed person, “Looks like you care a lot about her.”

“No, we're not together, I just…” you pressed your lips together in a long line, “She's missing, and I know her and I'm just worried. Come on guys, any normal person would react like that, what the hell.”

“It's okay, Y/n,” Carol offered you the most indulgent of sweet smiles, “It's totally understandable that you're worried. Fuck, I think at this point we are all a little bit too.”

“Yes,” alleged Kate's voice then, “We're all worried here.”

But in front of the crowd of other discrepant faces, so many students who came and went in their daily lives, being just extras for your main story, there was no way your senses could capture the piercing gaze that religiously looked at you like an eagle does so with a small rabbit in the woods, only seconds before it dives in to sink its claws into its promised prey.

So there would be no way for you to know that as much as you loathed the idea of Carol touching you on the shoulder like that (your smile clearly said don't fucking touch me), someone else in the same room repulsed the sight as much as you did – her head tilted at a broken angle toward the left, jaw clenched tight, both dark brows furrowed over the bridge of her scrunched nose, the knuckles of her fingers turning pale as she presses her fists against the table edges. Don't fucking touch her. If you touch her again I'll rip your hand off, you fucking bitch.

In fact, as far away from her seat in the cafeteria as you were, you were not even aware of the miserable existence of that vibrating need that throbbed within the dark abyss of a pair of emerald irises that accompanied you through the labyrinthine corridors of that university, like a faithful following the commandments of their god.

As if you'd sucked out all the dilated emptiness inside her chest, crammed her back in with a warm sense of stoic belonging, a volcanic beatified devotion to you that even bordered on sick idolatry of a warped mind. Love. A twisted definition of what one could define as love. After all, what would love be if not the most devout of idolatries? She had to know everything about you. She had to take care of what was hers.

Someone always lurking like a shadow that on its own chose to project itself before the light that irradiated around you. That started tingling for you, wanting you so much that there was no turning back. In the sea of people around you, she was the one who was aware that she was beneath you and wanted it to stay that way.

Because once you'd made the gravest of mistakes handing a dropped book to a stranger in the library hallway, offering her the kindliest of welcoming smiles a person could bestow on someone else, and then the crook of your forefinger brushed lightly against the smooth white skin of her hand and suddenly “Wuthering Heights” became her favorite book to read – because you had touched it on its cover when you gave it to Wanda.

“Hey,” your voice had rumbled from behind her shoulders, a girl with long hair of the color of tree bark, and a handful of silver rings spread across the lengths of her slim, slender fingers. Your fingertips marginally touched the fabric of a dark coat that covered her shoulders.

“Hey, excuse me, but you... you dropped this.”

“Oh,” Wanda muted under her breath, her hands slipping in exchange for possession of the book, her fate consolidating into a vibrating red haze smoldering under her skin, “Th-thank you, I… I didn’t notice that I had dropped it.”

“You're welcome,” and then you did it with the corner of your lips, the muscles in your face smoothing into a stunning sobriety, and it was done, it was set in stone; she belonged to you, “But Wuthering Heights, huh. This is a very good read, you know?”

“Is that so?” her attention was caught in a thread of thought – she could hear you elucidating about everything that you could, hours and hours with you in a narrow library hallway, “I never read it before.”

“Yeah,” you stated, always in the figure of such a kind and helpful young woman, “It’s a classic for a reason, right? It's definitely the kind of book I would recommend to someone if they asked me what they should read to feel different emotions at the same time. It's totally a top five actually. I mean, at least it's one of mine.”

And then you blinked carelessly, as appealing and as rehearsed as a Hollywood actress would do so. Wanda wasn't used to getting this much attention from strangers – and for her, that felt good.

“I'm Y/n, by the way,” it was said casually, like bait for a fish in a river. Little did you know that, in fact, what you had captured was a creature as venomous as yourself, “Y/n Y/l/n”.

“I’m Wanda,” she smiled back, a harbinger of the coming end of the world, “Wanda Maximoff.”

“Wanda Maximoff,” you repeated, her name never sounding so beautiful before as turned by your tone of voice, “That's… that’s a really nice name. It suits you.”

Your smile made Wanda's heart pound in a rush of adrenaline against her ribcage, orgasmic and sensual, blistering against her thighs, yet perhaps also romantic and sentimental, affable against her stomach. She fell in love with your so tempting charms – she didn't feel the butterflies, just the voracity of a dizzying urge to completely consume you, to tear you to pieces and feel the heat of your insides. Something about you smothered the hollow void inside Wanda’s chest, made her feel alive again – as long as her life was entirely committed to revolve around you.

You, so oblivious and so ignorant to that predator lurking in the corner, had no idea who Wanda Maximoff would be; you didn't even realize that creature you had awakened from a long hibernation all dormant in her bowels, how many years of hard work from a committed therapist you had brought to the ground, her mental well-being tower collapsing into ruins worthy of a Greek tragedy, burying her down one brick at a time.

But Wanda Maximoff, she did know of your existence. After all, her soul was devoted to you (saliva pooling on the tip of her tongue like a skinny stray dog at a butcher's house). She was just a dreamy little girl who became an immoderate romantic, who only loved pathologically, maybe a little too much. But an unmeasured dose of intensity could always be remedied.

You didn't remember at all about that meeting of realities at the beginning of last semester, when you created the genesis of that persistent germ of a pathetically one-sided symbiotic relationship entwined between the two extremes that were you and Wanda, respectively. But your smile carved an open and exposed fissure inside the lungs of that girl who could only breathe if it was the oxygen that had previously been filtered through your own bronchi. You've given a new meaning to her quiet psychology student life.

After all, you've given her the book she might as well have left behind and forgotten, just another banal event, something virtuously commonplace and unimportant. But it was the best book Wanda had ever had the pleasure of reading in her life (Cathy and Heathcliff hopelessly being a couple of degenerates viscerally obsessed with each other to the grave), and all of that because of you. That was undeniable proof that she just needed you.

She didn't need her father who confined her to a psych ward when she was younger (when she was accused of loving too much another young lady in high school who kind of didn't want her around), or the twin brother whom she no longer exchanged a word with after that said incident. In Wanda's life, since that cataclysmic day branded on her skin like a hot iron, the only gap left was the hole she'd dug in the shape of you to fill in her own chest.

ᗢ

A slow zephyr of warm air shimmered through the strands of Wanda's dark hair, swinging her locks behind her ears like flags on a long pole. That long Manhattan street in a late afternoon, interspersed with a stone landscape of tall townhouses, carried with it a blissful aspect in its structures and, certainly, even a little threatening to the glances of the less fortunate. Everything there screamed refinement, pomposity, latent ostentation – the smell of rich people in the air (woody perfumes with a scent of gold).

It was a handful of long houses that encompassed the entire residential block, which were slightly tapered from the street in openings in round, heavy, asymmetrical arches, in a residential style whose architecture alluded to the revival of the English Romantic movement; buildings clad in red brick trimmed with rough stone and smooth terracotta, with rustic wood accents and slate tiles.

The house that Wanda's eyes gazed at with exciting fervor was your dwelling – a faithful one about to force her way onto the hallowed ground of the temple of salutation to her god, an estate acquired by the vast capital of your parents who were a couple of retired surgeons (Wanda dig up this on your social media that she fervently rummaged through each post and comment, sifting through every picture, until she discovered that your family was particularly wealthy and that you attended boarding school in upper state until you get your high school diploma, always doing it with great mastery).

Two floors that looked out with three rows of windows flattened on the inside by the thick fabric of long pastel-toned curtains, which appeared like a waterfall over the panes arranged towards the sidewalk, to the life outside. A house with an imposing facade, but not enough to be frightening. It was kind of left on the edge of the seat, as if the really scary part was the unknown that was imminent inside those walls.

Your home, where you went to rest and take your time before the start of another new day—two or three days of quietly tracking you down, like a silent disease, were enough for Wanda to carve your address into her memory, and never allow herself to forget it. She might as well tattoo it on her own pale forearm if need be, and she wouldn't even have a problem doing it at all. She did for love, after all. She did it for you.

A silver car passed with its wheels skidding on the asphalt. Wanda's palms sweated as she moved the kneecap of her right knee, hidden inside a tall dark sock, so that she was crossing the street with her chin turning left and right, swinging with her hands long strands of rich coffee color that slipped down the line of her pale pretty face.

And then green eyes looked up to the windows of your house that grew above her head, stopping the footsteps of heavy boots strapped to her ankles in the front door. Wanda snorted, her chest rising and falling heavily, a smile tugging at the corner of her rosy lips against the dark wood. She might as well break down in tears right there. So close – so treacherously, lusciously close. She's never been this close. Wanda knew you weren't home because she knew all about you.

“Hiya, hon! What are you doing there?” called a ringing voice from behind her shoulders, a high-pitched tone that icy climbed the length of her spine.

Startled was the muscle in her right forearm that had crept into her cross-strap messenger bag diagonally across her chest, shrewd fingertips searching for silver tweezers and an aluminum clip.

Turning slowly with the curve of her chin over her right shoulder as if in a horror movie scene where one is faced with a lurking beast, Wanda was greeted by a wide pearly-white smile from a thin-nosed woman already bordering on her in her late forties, dressed in running gear with thick brown hair pulled back in a high ponytail that swung back from her head. Wanda blinked once at her.

“Who are you?” she tilted her head a little to the side, eyes wide and dark like a deer caught in the headlights of a car on a dim road. Ice-cold sweat pooled Wanda's palms, which drooped close to the hem of her black miniskirt.

“Who are you?” returned the older woman standing on the sidewalk, just a few steps away from her. She had a superfluously high, saucy voice, a bit like a macaw, maybe like a enchantingly hot witch.

The tone had been a little sharper than her grin seemed to plan it to be, which is why the woman soon tried to narrow her blue eyes, as if to assuage her onslaught.

“I'm Miss Harkness, dear, but you can call me Agatha. I live right next door – to my left, not yours,” and then there was a long, loud laugh that Wanda, still so ecstatic, didn't follow at all, “I've known the young woman who's lived here since she moved in, but I never saw you around here...?”

“Oh, L-Liz,” the feign name slipped like water out of Wanda's lips pressed together in a rough, uncertain lie, almost even a high-pitched question, “It's Liz. Lizzie.”

“Lizzie,” Agatha repeated, as if to savor the veracity of the information inside her own mouth, “Well, what are you doing there, Lizzie? Do you have a problem? Need some help, sweetie?”

“I–I,” Wanda swallowed the spittle that pooled on the back of her tongue with a hard jerk, like a ball of concrete scraping down the inside of a plastic pipe, “I—I'm Y/n's friend from college. She asked me to... to come get something for her while she's at her tennis practice.”

A second of silence tore the tension between the green gaze that was pinned from afar by the blue gaze. The other woman's sharp eyebrows rose in practical acknowledgment – after all, you were indeed a casual racquet sporter, and you always told your neighbor that you did it to keep your own body fit and healthy. Wanda only wished that nosy neighbor was swayable enough to buckle under her scattering, but Miss Harkness didn't seem like an easy egg to crack.

“Oh, I see…” Agatha muttered under her breath, in a tone that seemed intrinsic to a hunch that prompted a brief frown on Wanda's part.

“Y/n is always having the company of some, um, friends... of hers around. I mean, a young stud like that, attending med school in her prime... she strikes me as the very popular college type, huh. Geez, I wish I had studied with her back in my day, I won't lie to you, hon. If you know what I mean.”

Again the older woman laughed, throwing her head back, her ponytail swinging – and again Wanda didn't follow, a smoldering repugnance seeping into her bones, scarlet vapor rising its way to her larynx, the veins bristling, the tree of possessiveness branching off from a bad seed planted inside her chest (don't you dare talk about Y/n like that, you old fucking rag).

“Oh, but don't let me hold you back, Lizzie dear, I bet you need to get ready for tonight,” Agatha smiled with an odd glow, “Well, I'll be right next door if you need me for anything. Have fun, honey. Some of us have to, don't we?”

“Right…”

If Wanda could, she would have split Agatha's head open with a sharp axe; bits of brain mass and cracked bone littering your front door.

ᗢ

“Y/n...”

Wanda lay languid, transverse in your king size bed. White sheets touched her skin just below her back. Emerald irises were hidden behind closed eyelids, lashes closed, mouth half-open where moans trickled down like raindrops. The shrewd walls of your bedroom were the witnesses of that body, naked and of abandoned modesty, far from any prying eyes she was aware of, away from every judicious mind bent on condemning her actions.

Finding your bedroom on the top floor had not been at all a difficult activity after a tourist-oriented excursion unrolled through the walls of your home, Wanda's fingertips slithering lethargically over the surface of the exquisite furniture – your wardrobe filled with neatly folded clothes and pressed shirts, your bathroom with your favorite perfume whose Wanda promptly slipped the bottle into her bag, your dirty clothes discarded into an open-lid basket. She couldn't contain her sharp nerves at the sight of one of your worn panties.

Wanda then found herself free of all shame, but adorned by the secrecy of an unbuttoned soft silk shirt of yours that wore her body, smelling like you. Your sheets, your pillowcase, your shirt – everything smelled like you. It was as if a flood of yours had swamped Wanda's senses, submerging her in a bubble of you. As if you were on top of her, inside her, everywhere around her. Her hands skimmed over her pearly body, advancing slyly along the line of her belly, teasing herself at what traced the elastic of her panties.

The nerve bundles of her muscles were taut and dense as curious fingers ventured along the edge of her stomach, staying in the body band where her torso ended, gliding along the slit that determined the start of her smooth thighs.

A thin moan escaped the pulps of her lips as Wanda's hand finally touched the length of her pleasure, finding a wet meeting to lean on. She fantasized that it would be you there, the cheek of your thumbs pressing against the sensitive skin of her thighs as you spread them apart so that you could cup the bridge of your nose there and sip what she had to offer you.

“Y/n, please... p-please...”

A finger, shy and cautious, exploring avidly, ran the length of her moist lips, pouring into them in a long descent, capturing some of her sap that had escaped around it, returning to a slow rise in search of her center in flames. Bending to her own will, a victim of her own actions, she found herself stretching out her slender, alabaster-skinned thighs. Touch me, Y/n. Make me yours.

Her silken back arched eagerly at the mercy of the flooding pleasure that spread in quivering waves through her limbs. The hand, which until that moment had not dared to make a move, approached boldly the pale mounds that were her breasts, seeking the nipples that, like petunias, had opened in swellings from the redundant heat that enveloped them.

The delicate tip of her own finger slid over the soft skin of the areola, inching toward the turgid nipple, capturing it in a gentle grip, stimulating the senses, heightening the pleasure. Wanda's upper teeth dug into the outline of her lower lip.

“Fuck…”

A second finger took its place inside her, reaching for the heat of the skin in relief, and she moved boldly back and forth, still testing, experiencing the paroxysm that only the apogee of climax could provide. It was then that the green eyes opened, revealing the button-dark pupils, deep as a river, dilated with the specter of lust.

“F-fuck, fuck! Fuck me, Y/n, fuck me! Fuck me harder! Ah-!”

The splendor of orgasm peaked at its epicenter. Her back was arched, her legs closed around her own hand, pressing insistently to the center of her spread body, enclosing the crook of her own wrist between the hollow of her groin. The inner walls of her intimacy opened and closed in a symbiosis synchronous with the bursts of pleasure that bombarded her internal organs. Just a few seconds, a few glorious seconds of pure pleasure dissolved around her own fingers. One of several orgasms wrested from her in honor of you.

Wanda felt her body melt under the action of a terribly agonizing act; her heart pounding against her ribcage, clouding her mind, descending to her stomach in a trail of fire. Her breath hitched for a few moments, coming in harder as the orgasm ceased, causing her chest to rise and fall frantically.

On her lips, a name that she ended up whispering to the one that escaped her control (as so much more besides this one had done during the peak of her orgasm), while her tense body eased against the mattress extensions.

“I love you, Y/n... I love you... I fucking love you...”

But it was at the latest, however, with her curious eyes scrutinizing and dissecting every measly element that made up the layout of your bedroom arrangements—the books crammed in long rows on the shelves of your bookshelf (the sight of an edition of Wuthering Heights had made her beam delightfully like a child in a candy store, as in an inside joke between you and her), the notes on sticky note paper on your desk in exquisite cursive handwriting, the thin television screwed to the pale wall erected directly in front of your bed—that Wanda’s attention was magnetized to a tiny silhouette on a shelf at the top of your wardrobe.

Wanda looked the box up and down and curiosity got the better of her. A small, polished, dark wooden box, perfectly square, that the tips of her right fingers skidded for after she stretched out her shins and elbow to grope blindly up there, standing on tiptoe to do so.

Something in Wanda cried out in interested inquisitiveness when it was that she deposited the little box on the floor just in front of the wardrobe and, sinking down on her bare knees (since all that covered her slender body was a pair of dark panties and your silk shirt unbuttoned across her chest), she curved her spine in front of the quadrilateral container, elbows bent so her fingertips brushed and lifted the lid. Her brow creased in an irresolutely astonished manner.

“Oh…”

Driver's licenses. Wanda blinked, trying to figure out what it was that lay before her like unearthed treasure. You had a box full of driver's licenses tucked at the top of your wardrobe, slipped away from the eyes of other visitants who wouldn't be as wary as Wanda's – a veritable gathering of names and faces, all dealing with other female figures, like a gallery with tiny souvenirs that alluded to encounters that have already passed through your lifetime.

The frivolous lace effigies of young women approaching her age gazed at her with excruciating stares, their busts ridged in dozens of small laminated cards like the cards in a boardgame. It was like you collected young college girls – she knew all about your gathering nature, after all. Wanda needed to see them up close; she desired to comprehend them, to know who they were, and what they did in your room, so close to you. The reason you wanted them there with you.

The first one whose jadish eyes evaluated, the fingertips of her right hand slipping a lock of dark-brown hair behind the shell of her ear while the other hand held the small card near the tip of her nose, was Jennifer Walters's document followed by Hope Van Dyne’s, Maria Hill and Laura Barton and then Elizabeth Ross, Virginia Potts, Daisy Johnson, Karolina Dean and Christine Palmer, and then a dozen more names and faces that Wanda didn't bother to distinguish from the rest of them.

Some of the young girls there sounded familiar to Wanda's remembered cognitions, others could never be more than just foreign figures. The count would be no more than a stipulated enumeration of around forty-five names, but it wouldn't be an inferior calculation to the number thirty either. Wanda counted to the number thirty-seven before closing the lid of the box again, and even then there were still a few more names missing to complete the whole.

She blinked once, looking down at the wood box placed between her spread thighs, just trying to understand. And then she wondered why her name wasn't inside that box too. Was she not interesting enough? Did she not meet your parameters? Maybe you didn't want her name there with the others for a reason. Maybe it had to do with Christine Palmer's decapitated head that she found inside your fridge a few hours ago.

ᗢ

The late afternoon sun had set for its idleness set behind the concrete buildings in the distance, making for a bright cease to that particularly warm evening. White glow from the streetlights streamed in through the high paneled windows of the townhouses down the block, casting pale artificial stains on the affluent fullness of the prosperous Upper Manhattan.

Your biceps muscles were fatigued from a long afternoon hitting and bouncing rubber balls when you turned off your car's ignition and unbuckled your seat belt, pushing it away with your elbow.

A line of pale windows contributed with its share of mystery to the casual observer who passed through the streets that little by little fell into the spills in pools of synthetic light, the pale facades gleamed like light bronze, giving the mansions an air of wealth and of pride; and you always wondered, looking up and fantasizing, what went on behind those windows. One would unquestionably be surprised to know what was going on behind your own curtains, anyway.

However, it was in front of your own residence as you got out of the parked car – your right digits searching inside the cross bag in the middle of your chest for your set of keys – that Miss Harkness, your nosey neighbor, opened the bright door of her own house to greet you with a plastic smile on her long face, wearing the skimpy-length clothes that she always tended to tuck in when being around you (particularly on late Wednesday afternoons like that, when you showed up in your tennis clothes and Agatha tried to take advantage of your bare legs).

“Good afternoon, cupcake,” smiled your luscious, chocolate-colored hair neighbor dressed in very short white shorts, “Or would it be good night already? I'm never sure, this time of day is always so vague...”

“I think it's good night by now, Miss Harkness,” was your reply in an almost machine-friendly, rehearsed tone that might well be controversial if it came from someone lacking a smile as captivating as your own.

“Oh yes, good night,” Agatha's right shoulder slumped over her own doorframe, her breasts tucked into a teenage-type tank top, her thin lips covered in a slim layer of glossy chapstick, “So, hot stuff, how is that little friend of yours doing?”

“My… little friend...?” your hand flinched from searching the inside of your bag, your brow creasing at the figure of the older woman with piercing sapphire eyes, hungry like a wolf for new information she could glean from your own personal life.

“Yeah, that pretty girl with those big green eyes, kinda dressed like an edgy teenager, um, Liz… Lizzie, isn't it? Yes, Lizzie,” Agatha's lips pursed into an embellished, deceitfully thoughtful pout, “The one who came to drop you something earlier. Or to grab something for you, I don't know. You know, honey, your... friend from college.”

You frowned even more at the figure of your neighbor, your lips curled in an intemperate way, your countenance almost distorting so that your social mask would eject from the folds of your facial muscles, revealing to Agatha a portion of a feature she wouldn't need to see. A shiver running down your spine from the back of your neck alerted you that something was wrong.

Your friends weren't regulars at your house and you, in fact, didn't know any girl named Lizzie (or any derivative that was of that name just so strange to your ears when mixed with physical characteristics which you couldn't assimilate with the description of a girl unknown, offered to you by Agatha).

“She… L-Lizzie,” a hesitant, thoughtful second passed, “She… was she here? Did she enter my house? Has she been inside?” You shrugged, on an impulse of marine fearlessness that went somewhat unnoticed by Miss Harkness's unshakable smile.

“Yeah, but I haven't actually seen her leave yet,” your neighbor singsong, and then offered you a peculiar smirk imbued with a meaning you played ignorant to, “Maybe she's waiting for you, huh, heartbreaker? Tonight will be a long one, right?”

Saliva choked in your mouth. The blood coursing through your veins cooled – terror climbing the length of your esophagus, hands trembling along the length of the single strap of your bag, and “Fuck” was what you swore under your breath, your mind already in a far cry from the exaggerated figure of Agatha standing there, next door to yours. It only took a few seconds for you to slip your key into the metal lock.

“Well, honey, if you girls need anything—” but the front door to your house closed before the over-the-top Miss Harkness could even finish her own rehearsed sentence.

The entrance hall was sinisterly dim after the door closed behind you. The room was a little appalling, and in such a way, it also had a watery atmosphere that gave birth to an opalescent darkness, swamped by a deluge of empty, sharp silence.

You could well hear your own breath rising and falling if you took the trouble to do so; it was like hunting in the dusky depths of a forest, your senses heightened within your own home, into the profundities of your own sanctuary where you should once have felt at peace and at ease.

The ghostly atmosphere inside the room was lazy, cloudy, and perhaps partially dead. The simple mirror right next to the entrance door was frosted over because of a layer of light that had ended up beguiling its translucent face, and in it, amorphous and weird images that led nowhere were created.

Walking around in leisurely strides in your athletic shoes, the opaque structure of the house was lit only by the silvery light of the leafy moon that had just risen to the top of the cinertian sky outside the two-story house, which affected the furniture set back by the hulking panes of glass constricted, pale light sneaking through the always closed curtains (no one would need to know what was happening behind them), causing, in the environment, an adventitious platinum-blue coloration somewhat withered, which there was no way to be something common and ordinary.

Nothing seemed out of place, but you could tell it felt outlandish, atypical even, as if someone had broken through the sacred layer of peace of mind that used to wash over your home. Your privacy had been invaded.

Rounding the kitchen island, you went to the tall fridge and opened it with a quick flick of your right elbow, a pale shaft of light breaking through the eerie darkness that tapered the spacious room. And then you allowed yourself to lift the air out of your constricted lungs. She was still there, well preserved by the ice that wouldn't melt. A warm sigh escaped between your parted lips – icy sweat starting to form a thin layer on the back of your neck.

The vacant eyes of Christine Palmer's dead head stared back at you as if begging you to give her a dignified end; only to say that your last capture was still where you'd left it, half lying on its side on the last shelf, close by a set of sweaty water bottles, so far from the rest of her other severed limbs, you just reassured yourself of the fact that she still belonged to you.

But above your own head, a tiny sound of movement piqued your sharp ears, immediately drawing your sharp attention because you soon realized that some unexpected visitor was still in the house. Then your gaze dropped to that piece of dead flesh with hair dyed a vivid red like crayons. It was certain that Christine would soon have a companion for her icy storage.

Your predatory instincts lashed into her temples, and a rush of adrenaline coursing through your despondent system, as both of your shrewd hands plunged once more into your crossbody bag, in a silent warm grip on the part of your nimble fingers, you searched for something metallic cool to the touch, whereupon you drew out a small, heavy, iron-fuse revolver with a short barrel.

The gun has always been around since your clueless parents came to believe faithfully that a young girl should defend herself from the predators of the far reaches of the world in the alleys of the big city, and even though you never actually fired a projectile, the miserable threat of doing so used to be enough to get what you wanted. After all, if there was going to be a predator, that degenerate figure would have to be you.

You followed, then, with the lightest and most silent studious strides, down a small corridor of bare and soiled floors, up the red oak steps of the straight stairs that led to another compendious rectangular corridor carrying very little furniture, the last door being the one at the entrance to your large bedroom. You couldn't ignore the ominous tension that seemed to hang through the air, mixed with oxygen, like a heavy fog.

Being high above the kitchen, the hallway was provided with a flickering luminescence from the lights outside the house that did not lighten the walls or ceiling either, with a wooden door at its front end, and two smoky windows separated by diameter of a head on your left.

Between the door and the floor, a crack the thickness of a pen was formed, and from there, a beam of white light was regurgitated, announcing the existence of someone inside the private room that was your bedroom. Adrenaline throbbed through your ruffled veins as the extensions of your left fingers then touched the frigid silver doorknob. You took a deep breath before opening the door, holding the barrel of the gun right in front of your torso.

“Don't fucking move.”

There was something lurid in the speech that came from behind her shoulder – something ominous, something from the depths of another world, a parallel reality. Gone was all the tenderness of your existence, for you, at that moment, were nothing more than a parody of that fake social persona of yours; appearances were turned to dust, and there was no longer any need to emulate the benevolence of the human creature you could never be.

A shiver made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck curl as she sat on the floor in front of the box, an icy breath spraying from her nostrils.

The silver material of a revolver flashed a beam of artificial light toward the emerald eyes as it was when Wanda turned and you harpooned, with a flick of your wrist, the weapon in front of the open door to the bedroom, the fierce barrel aimed straight ahead the middle of her forehead. Wanda blinked once in your direction, her jadish eyes acquiescing to the situation, understanding what was happening there, what it was that unfolded before her.

It was you. In front of her, in the same room as her, addressing her directly as you had in the library last semester. You. You.

You looked different with that hideous darkness corrupting the ever-present indulgence in your gaze, but either way it was you – the real vision of what you would be, that wild animal she would gladly let devour her completely, from the inside out, consuming her insides in splashes of warm blood. The creature had crept out of the cracks of your good girl performance, and only violence could be aimed at the void of your pupils.

“Y/n...” Wanda whimpered almost into a sweet sigh, her chest heaving with fiery contentment, dropped to her knees and as submissive as she was there in your room, “Y/n, you're here... you're here...”

“Who the fuck are you?” Your tone had been impassive, and something in Wanda had sunk completely, a painful twinge brushing the middle of her chest, “Are you–are you wearing my shirt…?”

“Y/n,” she half-cried on her knees in front of you, dark brows furrowing, “Don't you remember me? From the library...? We– we met last semester. You told me to read Wuthering Heights, it was one of your favorites–”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Wanda blinked once in mistrust with her dark-green eyes, completely disbelieving in her spirit at the words she had heard leave her lover's lips that hit her like clenched fists in the stomach and ribs. She remembered you, so you would have to remember her too; there would be reciprocity in fantasy, there would be love in unilateralism, there would have to be love and love in particular would have to be mutual.

Even though Wanda knew that physiologically a creature like you was lacking in the ability to love – as a good psychology student she had diagnosed you, she knew your pathologies, and like a good maniac, she just knew everything about the person that she treasured so dearly. But there would be no science that could explain Wanda's need for more and more of you. After all, you were Cathy and Heathclilff, not Elizabeth and Darcy.

The calloused emptiness of the barrel of the revolver was like a vortex that dispossessed her soul from her body, but Wanda couldn't care less about the gun pointed at her mideyebrow as her heartstrings tightened—the pain of lack of recognition in your eyes before her supplanted the idea that a flick of your finger would be enough for the insides of her skull to stick to the floor of your bedroom.

“I saw you in the library, Y/n,” she tried again, exasperated by the unrequited love, “Last semester...you smiled at me and said that was a great book...”

But then there was a glimmer of hope to warm the kneeling young woman's spirits – your gaze raked over Wanda's sharp, pretty features, and after a good long minute had at her chest area (her pale breasts partially exposed in front of her skimpy white silk shirt unbuttoned, the gap between them descending to a milky abdomen just as appetizing to the touch), a string tugged at your memory and a shrewd realization slipped behind your brain, bringing back the day you decided not to murder that library girl because it was fun to play with the idea that her life hung by a thread, and she never knew that.

Like a puppeteer operating the strings of life around you, Wanda was only there, on her knees in your bedroom, because you wanted to revel in the idea that her life was in the palm of your hands and, as a deity (or least holding the power of such), you resolved to spare her for only a base and simple whim of yours.

“Oh, wait… wait, I remember you…” slipped out of your lips, the gun still gripped tightly in your right hand, “W… Wanda, yeah. Your name is Wanda.”

“Yes,” the answer was immediate, almost a high-pitched, smiling yelp, emerald green shimmering into her lepidopteran lashes, “Wanda Maximoff. You remembered me...”

“Wanda Maximoff, the library girl, huh… fuck, what are you doing here? It's been so long...” you muttered to yourself, “Wait, don't tell me you're a goddamn stalker or something like that. Home invasion is a crime, did you know that? You can go to jail if I call the police. Is that what you want, Wanda? That I call the police?”

She looked down at you with a predatory gaze, as if she was going to rip your jugular apart with her own teeth. It caught you off guard, in fact, for you had never seen this emptiness darken someone else's gaze before.

“There's a girl's head in your fridge, Y/n,” Wanda countered, an amused smile then breaking at the corners of her rosy lips, doe eyes looking you up and down, two animals of similar species recognizing each other in an uninterrupted cadence of sickly stares, “You're not going to call the police.”

It was a challenge thrown up in the air, because she was bold and could just push your buttons until she knew you fully, unfolded you beneath her fingertips; Wanda relished the moment because she just knew that no one alive knew you like that – that side of you, that butcher look of yours. It was the only connection she had with you slowly growing stronger.

“Pff, of course I'm not going to call the fucking police, I'm not an idiot,” and you took a step closer to her, invading her personal space, the barrel of the gun so cold against the pale skin of her forehead.

“But I could just pull that trigger, couldn't I? Or maybe rip your pretty neck off and put your head next to hers and the matter would be over, wouldn't it? I can do many things with you, Wanda. I can hurt you. I can break you. I can kill you.”

“You,” Wanda snorted, pupils dark and dilated into an abyss of greenish doom, “Do you really think my neck is pretty?”

A lame chuckle escaped in disbelief between your nostrils – she was practically salivating like a dog (a beautiful bitch in heat, the insides of her thighs sticky), and something about you liked that. Really liked that.

“Fuck, you've got to be kidding me. Was that all you understood from what I told you? I literally threatened to kill you, Wanda. Shit, pretty girl… you're a sick bitch, you know that? There's something very wrong going on inside your head.”

“No,” Wanda muttered, her gaze misting into her excited irises, her nerves fraying at the compliment that couldn't be missed, “I… I love you, Y/n. I just… I just love you so much.”

“Oh, you love me, do you?" It was then that you sort of chuckled in derision, shaking your head in sardonic disdain – an act laced with haughtiness and condescension that made Wanda's heart flutter against her rib cage.

“I love you,” she nodded in an almost desperate, justified affirmation, “I really love you so much, I love you so much, Y/n, I just need you. I don't care about the rest or what you did to them, I... I just need you. I really need you. Your real self.”

“Damn,” you knelt before her, the gun still pointed firmly at Wanda's forehead, the sweet scent of her dry shampoo soothing against your nostrils, her firm features even more stunning when viewed up close, “You're crazy. Like, really crazy. Totally insane.”

“It takes a madman to recognize the other,” she mussed back, enjoying this game of cat and mouse as much as you, the distance between you less than a foot, “And you killed those girls.”

“And yet you're begging me to fuck you with your eyes even though you know I killed those girls. Which one of us is the worst, huh?”

“Well,” Wanda smirked like a broken doll, “I'm not the one who dismembers my classmates here. I’m just in love. I just… I just fell in love with you, Y/n. But... it makes no difference to me how bad you can be sometimes, or what you do to other people. You're everything to me. I love you just the way you are.”

“No, Wanda, you don’t,” you whispered, “Really, you have no idea who I really am, and… I don't think you'd like what you might find.”

“Try me,” her chin tilted to the left, towards her collarbone. You frowned for a while; she was not afraid. She was uniquely interested.

Your gazes swallowed each other in midair, one striving to comprehend, to unwrap the other, to make the other give in to the oppression of their own wills. You wanted to break her, but she was already broken, and she longed for you to break herself even more; the two of you on the edge, waiting for the last push for one to fall and take the other with them to the bottom of that precipice. You haven't had this much fun in a while.

“Fuck, at least I'm not a desperate mutt like you, though... you're a perv, Wanda. A fucking weirdo, a stalker who broke into my house, found out about my, um, hobby, and yet you still stayed here until I arrived... and all while wearing my shirt? Look at you, I bet you were touching yourself like a bitch in heat before I arrived.”

Your gaze dropped to her pale, exposed thighs.

“You're such a creep, pretty girl. Honestly, if anything, it's kinda pathetic. But, hey,” the barrel of the revolver then lowered until it skimmed the pulp of Wanda's lips, and a devilishly smile broke into the corner of your mouth, “I had a great idea just now. If you do really love me as much as you say you do… how about you prove to me how much you need me, huh, Wanda? Prove your love to me. Open your pretty mouth.”

And then she stuck her tongue out of her pearly lips, as receptive as she could be. Wanda smeared the icy metal of the revolver's short barrel with a string of thick spit, a circle of vulpine pink tongue licking the outline of the gun wedged between the thumb and bent forefinger of your right hand.

Moving with your wrist, you soon proceeded to shove the gun deep into Wanda's open mouth, translucent spittle running from the corner of her lips to the contour of her lovely chin when it was that gagging whines coiled from the back of her throat.

“Look at you...” you mussed, your eyes never leaving the drooling figure of the girl in front of you, “Give me a show, slut. Breathe through your nose, just like that.”

Wanda moaned softly as she screwed her plump puffy lips onto the barrel of the revolver that only went down her throat until you decided to pull it out, puckering the length of her mouth as if she were planting a kiss on the cheek of a lollipop, releasing it with a hollow sound, a loud and purposefully audible metal-flavored pop, droplets of saliva pouring up her pale, bare thighs.

“I,” she sighed, her jaw tightening, the saliva pooling in bubbles at the corners of her mouth, “Did I… did I do well?”

“Oh, you did great, Wanda. You did it like the little bitch that I know that you are.”

With sly hooded eyes clouded by tears pooling in her dark lashes, Wanda saw you stare at her with obscure eyes of desire and mouth aflame with craving, and she smirked, sideways, like a prize girl with lust on her slobbered lips, addicted to something rotten inside you.

“I bet you're wet as fuck right now. You're loving every second of it, aren't you? You really are sick. But hold still, you whore,” you decreed to her in a harsh, bestial voice, “Or I fucking kill you.”

You then touched the barrel soaked in glistening saliva against the hard bone of Wanda's sternum, through the valley of firm, rosy breasts, in a poignantly lethargic motion pouring through the bristling skin toward the south of her body, leaving a trail behind of icy drool that made shiver the baby hairs from the back of her neck. Her rib cage rose and fell heavily, her nails adorned with matte black nail polish digging like razors into her shaggy skin, just waiting, just hoping for more.

The pit of Wanda's stomach constricted inside her abdomen when, after circling her navel cavity, you lowered the gun to the waistband of her dark panties, stopping dangerously close to the place where she craved your touch, the slackening of her thirsts that only you were the only one able to heal. You could even hear her instable breath echoing through the walls of the silent bedroom.

“Do you want me to touch you here, Wanda?” you snorted, her cheeks taking on sickly scarlet crimson intonations, “You want this, don't you? It's what you've been wanting all this time – for me to ruin that slutty cunt of yours. God, you're so predictable...”

“P-please,” Wanda whimpered in a needy gasp, her chin wet with an amalgamation of pale tears with thick saliva, her brows twitching so that a pained look settled on her heaving features, “P-please, Y/n, please touch me, touch me there, please– argh!”

The palm of your left hand closed against the outline of Wanda's pulsing jugular damp in sticking hot sweat, five fingers screwing tight into the pale skin as in a hard jolt you brought her face closer to yours – purposefully brushing the gun against the wetness of the garment of the other girl that only grew between her legs, pushing her throbbing clit against the barrel of the revolver, a very heavy change in the rhythm of her breathing.

She was just a sweaty, drooling mess, moaning aloud, and you found yourself to be a great appreciator of the pathetic state of mind in which Wanda was apt to submit to you and your sadistic whims.

“You're perfect,” something vile in you snatched from her tears, the ever-fast movement between Wanda's hips, the insides of her sticky thighs swallowing your wrist, “You're perfect for me, Wanda. You’re my perfect girl. I knew there had to be some reason I hadn't gutted you that day.”

“I am,” she whimpered back, her hips tense, “I'm your perfect girl, Y/n. I can be anything you want me to be.”

“Well, I think I know what I want you to be,” you hissed in lewd intonation, the tip of your nose almost touching her crimson-tinged cheekbone, “I want you to be my whore.”

Wanda gasped against your chronic staining grip on her neck. It was like you wanted to kill her and eat her right there. And then, the distastefulness of the metal darted through your lips as you took her saliva for yourself to taste, pressing your strangled tongue against the gap between Wanda's teeth, discharging into your mouth a metallic, foul, jarring taste when the two of you shared a needy kiss, almost as if you were a ravenous beast devouring a still-warm carcass.

The metallic taste stemmed by blood from her split lip was no longer just something from the gun you made Wanda suck on. And her tears of pleasure gave way to tears of genuine, unhinged exhilaration in a frightened and frantic ecstasy, for you were kissing her, you were consummating her.

You, however, between mutters and yelps, increased the pressure on her little bundle of nerves through Wanda’s damned garment in a speedy torture, only to see her writhe above your revolver and groan in uncertain verbiage, libertines and so stupidly discordant with each other.

“I owe you now. You’re mine. You’re mine to break, Wanda. You're mine to do whatever I want to, and I bet you don't even care if I do. Seriously, you're just pathetic.”

“I love you, Y/n,” tussled Wanda then in a tiny, drooling yelp, snorting against your parted mouth, “I–I love you, I love you, I love you, I–I love you, I love you, I love you–”

It didn't take long for the emerald-eyed girl's body to stiffen in front of you, splintering intoxicatingly as her eyes squeezed into tearful lines and Wanda's brow furrowed into a painful scrunch of skin. She squeaked in a funneled scream, low in pitch and melting.

And, feeling the characteristic sting of orgasm poke her lower belly, Wanda went down and up against the barrel of the gun for a few seconds until, in total frenzy, she felt the world around her go out, spewing through her throbbing entrance a wet trickle of warm cum that covered the entire length of the revolver, even though she was still wearing a thin underwear to cover her rosy, puffy cunt.

With her head weighing more than the rest of her body, Wanda fell forward, falling gasping with her forehead against the bone of your right shoulder, her chest heaving in and out with impressive weight. And then she snuggled against you, against your neck, as if you were a couple who had just fallen in love with each other, and not a duo of animals drawing blood from your flesh. But you held her. For a moment, you just held like you've known her for longer than you could count.

You then took a good look at her, the sweaty girl slumped against your very white polo shirt, wearing in her figure a silky shirt that she had stolen from within your wardrobe. Her silhouette, the perfect nose, the round, rosy lips, the firm cheekbone, the thick eyelashes – Wanda Maximoff was a beautiful young woman indeed. A nice prize, like a puppy, a pet. Something worth keeping around for a while.

“I love you, Y/n,” Wanda exhaled tenderly against the collar of your shirt, her warm breath brushing the bare skin of your neck, “I really love you…”

You licked the tip of your tongue at the metallic layer of Wanda's blood pooling at the pulp of your lips, “You're mine now, pretty girl,” was a murmur against her dark hair, “And I won't let you get away anytime soon.”

ᗢ

The world moved in an ecstatic frenzy when you were around her, spiraling into a frantic, dizzying cataclysm, dangerous as a dynamite fuse in a short flame; Wanda would soon put you on fire. It was as if something sick in her needed you to explode and for the blast's radius to consume her along with you, turning the two of you to dust together. It took about less than a full month for Wanda to become, then, your permanent companion within the walls of your home. You two were living together.

Normalcy was mostly covert (her toothbrush next to yours suddenly felt like a tremendous breach of privacy, as if she hadn't previously invaded your house), a self-righteous sobriety, because watching her cook European dishes humming through your kitchen while there was a severed human head in the fridge instilled a kind of fascination in you.

“You need to eat better, Y/n,” she'd said on one particular night, her hips nestled against your hips on the cream-colored sofa in the living room, a fork with a fresh strawberry on a skewer being offered to you, “Let me take care of you, baby.”

The world seen in the light of Wanda's gaze could be of a bizarre appreciation that urged you to keep her close to you.

Navigating through the ups and downs like any other official couple you could find walking hand in hand in the world out there, in the meantime you've noticed her as much as you could in such a narrow window of time; even though Wanda's wardrobe mostly consisted of darker colors and countercultural embellishments, her favorite color was red and she was terribly allergic to felines. Her fondness for old sitcoms could be traced to an attachment to a fond childhood memory.

She ate her breakfast cereal laughably in an awkward wrist fold, and had a twin brother who was studying abroad on an athletic scholarship; her father, an uncompromising man of German descent, was a major political figure in her hometown somewhere in New Jersey, and her mother was a Slovak immigrant who had passed away (in situations she didn't bother to clarify) when Wanda and her brother were just too young to be able to digest the nuances of such a sudden loss, their first abandonment in life. Both husband and wife were a non-practicing Jewish couple.

Wanda got what she wanted by sharing a warm bed with you on sleepless nights, and you, a tormentor possessing an ever so solemnly sadistic nature, merely kept her tamed on an emotional leash, since that meant it was in your domain whether her heart would stop beating or not. Before anyone else, however, the two of you were just a couple of two shy girlfriends who had been together since last semester, only having made public the relationship that came imperiously to the surface with the blossoming of the fastidious zenith of spring.

“Man, I still don't quite get this,” Yelena grumbled, then, once you accompanied her along with Darcy Lewis and Kate Bishop on a walk over the university campus, “You two were dating, like, this whole time, and you never bothered to tell us? You know, your best fucking friends?”

“It’s not like that, dude, it’s just—”

Your speech was abruptly cut short before the end, however, when, in the back pocket of your jeans, your phone trembled off the track, immediately catching your attention. Eyes turned to you.

You reached down to your pocket, where you grabbed your smartphone – on which the word “Wanda” flashed on the flat screen and, after realizing that it was your girlfriend who was contacting you, something in you had to restrain yourself before your eyes swiveled in their sockets. You slid your thumb horizontally across the screen glass and reclined the call, taking the plastic and carbide device back into your pocket.

“Was it her again?” it was Kate who questioned, to which you offered her a tiny nod in confirmation mode, a corroborating buzz of “mhmm” choking out of your throat, “Dude, okay, don't get me wrong but don't you think Wanda is kinda… um, you know, kinda…”

“Obsessed with you,” Darcy, the girl with the round glasses and dark hair, mussed in a smooth tone, frankly clarifying something Kate might have said, even if she didn't want to sound so impertinent when she said it.

“This is like, the tenth time she's called you in half an hour. Not to mention that now she lives on top of you all the time like a fucking eagle. We can't even have time with you alone anymore, she's there, like, the whole damn time.”

“It's not like that, c’mon,” you mussed in a bad way, still walking in the warm sun next to the other three girls, “Wanda is just, well… she's a worried person, that's all. She likes to make sure the people she cares about are okay.”

“It's one thing to be a worrier,” countered Yelena then, the three of them in tune in a train of thought that obviously pointed to the fact that your new girlfriend was a walking red flag.

“It's another thing to be obsessed with someone else. Like, borderline obsessed. Dude, Y/n, I know you're the kind of person who sees the good in everyone and is so altruistic that you get sick and all that nice girl shit, but... your girlfriend is weird. That's it, I said it. Wanda is weird. She gives me creeps, man, I swear.”

“Don't say my girlfriend is weird,” you frowned into the amber eyes of the blonde girl walking to your left, “That's offensive, you know? You can't just–”

But then the ringing of your phone was present again, and your hand went to your pocket again to pick up the device. You had never formally given your phone number to Wanda, but of course she already knew what it would be without even having to ask you. Your three friends crossed each other in tacit glances imbued with a mutual sense when a smothered sigh escaped through a half-open gap in the pulp of your lips.

"Look, I... I promised to have a study session with Wanda and I'm late, okay?" you hissed, your tongue clicking against the roof of your mouth, “I catch up with you guys latter.”

Turning on your heels, you set off in the opposite direction the rest of the group was walking. The silence was broken only when you were far away, out of reach of Darcy's brooding voice, who spoke first of the other two girls in her company – three pairs of eyes following your silhouette dwindling onto the well-cut grass puddled by a hot midday sun.

“Guys,” the bespectacled girl had said, “I might be sounding crazy, I know, but… don’t you think Wanda could have… kinda gotten rid of Christine so she wouldn’t have anything to stop her from being with Y/n...?”

Yelena blinked once at Darcy.

“I think your obsession with true crime media is starting to get a little weird”

ᗢ

“F-fuck, right there—!”

Wanda's voice gasped, strangled inside your ear, needing to take you fully inside her. The sounds of skin hitting skin muffled the dripping water from a poorly turned off faucet. The cramped bathroom stall at the back of the library could be one of the most discourteous and defamatory places you've ever had the misfortune of sneaking in to have sex with someone.

If you weren't too busy moaning into the crook of Wanda's sweaty neck, brows furrowed inside a public restroom where anyone could walk in at any second, you'd most likely have already teased your dear, disheveled lover for making your crawl in in that narrow place just to fuck her – but with the thirsty girl desperately splaying her hands over the bulge in your pants in an arduous search for the long scarlet silicone toy Wanda had bought for the two of you, yearning for the physical contact to alleviate her desire to be satiated, you just couldn't deny her altogether.

“You,” your speech was airy, somewhat disconnected from reality, the material of the strap delighting you as much as it did her, “You really couldn't wait, huh? Such a needy whore… I was busy, you know?”

You groaned, encouraging her with a mischievous half-smile as you felt the girl purposefully tighten around your entire wet length, which practically slid straight in and out of her.

“Y-you weren't busy,” Wanda moaned too, practically cried in performative innocence into the shell of your ear, purposely stoking you so you'd get rougher and increase the speed at which you thrust her, “You- ugh, fuck! – y-you were just walking—walking around with your… y-your stupid friends...”

“Stupid friends? That's bold.”

You stared at the familiar contorted face of pleasure your girlfriend expressed, popping in and out of Wanda fast and hard, with the green-eyed girl with pale legs curled around your waist, one hand buried in your tangle hair, scraping her splintered black-painted fingernails across your scalp. The hem of her red and gray plaid skirt bunched up over her damp thighs.

And indeed, something in you loved having her so primitively. As raw and animalistic as it could be; Wanda delivered, a mess completely at your mercy. The back of her head rested on the laminate on the wall, her wet red mouth half-open. Her forehead tensed, her white skin gleaming with sweat, pleading, begging for more.

It was like a real red rose blooming before your malevolent eyes. And that adrenaline aroused you, scarlet running scorching through your bristling veins. Anyone listening outside the bathroom would assume that the two of you were competing to see who was making the most of the situation.

“Damn, you look so pretty with my cock inside you,” you gasped in a breath in front of Wanda's face, “It makes me want to rip you in half.”

“Please Y/n! I'm almost- almost-! A-ah!” The girl gasped for air when she felt that you suddenly pressed her swollen clit between your rough and atrocious middle and index fingers, digging her dark nails into the skin of your neck where there was your hairline.

In a muffled cry, Wanda reached the peak of her orgasm around the false length that was stretching her deliciously inside. And you continued to burrow into her sensitive walls for a few more long seconds, filling her beyond acceptable, letting out cavernous whines until you too came with the strap being nestled inside her walls. The two of you, panting and tired, your chests rising and falling, stared at each other with sharp, floppy eyes. A brief smirk was mirrored on your mischievous faces.

“You don't need any of your friends anymore, baby,” Wanda mussed, panting, placing her pale hand on the warm skin of your flushed cheek, “You've got me now.”

It was a fact that she was in possession of a restless invidious nature, and the dependency could gnaw at her spirits so that an imperative need for control over you would well up in her core. Wanda might just be too possessive for your own good or even hers, and so the fastige of your relationship soon degenerated into a volatile debacle.

By the latest of the same week, then, with both of you already in the shelter of your residence on the outskirts of Manhattan, you could see yourself instituting dinner preparations, peeling potatoes and slicing carrots, when was it that hurried passes could be picked up by your ears upstairs, then down the stairs, to finally implode into the kitchen walls.

“What do you mean,” snarled Wanda in a frivolous tone of voice, exasperating behind your shoulder blades, “What do you mean you're going out with those bitches this fucking weekend?! I thought we were going out on a date, Y/n, what the fuck! You said you were going out with me!”

“Kate invited me to go to a bar with them,” you retorted in a sounding bordering on monotone, slicing a carrot, not giving much thought to Wanda's annoyances, “If you want, you can go too. But wait, how do you...?” the knife edge pressed against the plastic board, “You were looking through my phone again?!”

“These bitches are trying to take you away from me!” snapped Wanda immediately, her dark brows furrowing, “They hate me and you fucking know it!”

“They don't hate you Wanda, stop being dramatic, that's irritating,” you grumbled in a bad way, “I swear, sometimes I feel like getting rid of them all just so I don't have to listen to you bitching about them all the goddamn time.”

“Then get rid of them all,” she spat behind you, “Kill them all if you want, damn it, I don't give a shit about that! I just want them to know that you're mine!”

There was a momentary silence to behold, and Wanda peered up at you with a troubled, obsessed gaze in half a second when your chin reoriented itself over the bone of your right shoulder—jade eyes staring back at you, green soaked in the darkness, a gloom from which you were no longer able to hide from that psychoneurosis that so unnerved you when Wanda engaged in a bratty attitude.

She took her lower lip in her mouth and opened and closed her eyes, expelling a gust of warm air through her nostrils when, abandoning the shredded vegetables on the counter, you walked up to her face wielding that sharp knife in an ominous way.

“It's very bold of you to throw a tantrum and tell me to kill someone when I have a knife in my hand,” you blurted out the words slowly, not even fully mobilizing your pursed lips.

“You've been pissing me off a lot lately, you know that? Acting like a spoiled fucking brat who needs attention all the time because you're terrified I'll leave you when I feel like it. You're terrified of me rejecting you, aren't you, Wanda?”

“You wouldn't do that,” she muttered under her breath, the tips of your noses almost brushing through the air.

“Wouldn’t I?” The blade of the curvy, ravenous knife then pressed icy against the sharp right cheekbone of Wanda's pale face, still not cutting right into her skin, “Do you really think I wouldn't do that?”

“No, you wouldn't,” she, however, was unwavering in front of you, “I'm the only person in this entire world who understands you. Who really understands you, understands who you really are and is not afraid of you. Who knows your true self.”

"Look at you, you think you’re important,” a dark chuckle skimmed the flesh of your lips, the knife point trailing along the outline of Wanda's jaw then being held against the pale, smooth skin that covered the artery throbbing through her milk-white neck.

“It’s cute. You know, your lack of self-esteem to the point where you don't even bat an eye when I hold a knife to your neck because you know it will please me. Cute. Your pathetic submission is cute.”

“See,” Wanda smiled small, her irises brimming with emerald love that shimmered in the pale light of the pearl lamps above your heads, “I know you, Y/n. I love you. I love you so much that you don't need anyone else in your life. I also don't need anyone else but you. Only you.”

“This is sad. This is really, really sad,” your wrist constrained the knife blade against her collarbone, “Don't move.”

Wanda, ever so obedient, stood still when you carved your initial into her skin – the material of her shirt soaking in a big pool of fresh blood that sprinkled in a trickle onto the laminate kitchen floor; drops the size of a coin. Watching your deed etched atop that sharp bone, she looking so pretty and receptive with hot tears pooling before her clouded emerald eyes, an intrusive thought stabbed the back of your skull like a malignant tumor; maybe you needed Wanda in your life. Maybe you were as needy for her as she was for you.

As she slept later that same night, standing in front of the bathroom mirror you carved the letter "W" against the skin of your own left ribs.

ᗢ

About a month and a few days more had passed, as slowly as the blooming of spring flowers was already leaning towards the final touches of the season, since when your acquaintances learned about your relationship with Wanda of a nature no less than how controversial. You were spiraling down an intense, one-way descent, and you liked it.

The roar of raging thunder broke through the dead of night in an eager burst, so close to the house that, through its windows, in a tiny broken second, cold beams of white light cleared the downpour that raged outside the house, before re-submersing the world in the ambiguities of the nocturnal darkness. The streetlights in the region creaked and shook like lost souls, while the stiff gale gradually swelled as the interminable minutes of the storm passed.

Wanda, however, had not been awakened by the tyrannical, punishing thunder, or by the water hitting the tiles above her head assiduously, as if they were boulders of ice. She, in fact, hadn't even been able to fall asleep to a less-than-light sleep since she'd been snuggled into your king-size bed and comfortable sheets for about a few hours before the storm broke. She had woken up because you weren't in bed with her.

Finding tribulations in her actions, lethargically and slowly, she was able to get to her feet, albeit with difficulty because of the naughty worry radiating through her agitated body. Another thunder tore through the night sky as she left the bedroom. You out of her sight might as well be like a death sentence. The light from the guest bathroom with the door open inward was the only thing illuminating the dark hallway—the warm smell of cigarettes wafted through the air. Wanda knew you used nicotine as a companion in reflective moments.

The room was dark when Wanda entered it. It was just pearly pitch lit by the silver light above the mirror, which cluttered the bathroom up to the stained-glass windows, turning everything an odd platinum blue color that wasn't natural. The atmosphere inside was cold and hazy – as it would be in an authentic cemetery during autumn, when the leaves on the trees are orange and shedding from their branches like children leaving home for the first time.

“Y/n…?”

Wanda found your poor figure hunched over in the corner of the bathtub devoid of water to fill it, hugging your bare legs, wrapping your own slender arms around your knees like an abandoned child, staring at a tile beam on the wall. Your hair was tucked behind both of your ears, soaked in water and another dark liquid, thicker and more compact, which clotted at the ends of your hair and reflected vividly in the fluorescent light. Red.

The wallpaper and the floor tile and the clothes you were wearing were all splattered with great splashes of red, as if a can of scarlet paint had imploded in there – red spilling over everything, the ceiling and the floor and the towels, running down the drain of about five centimeters in diameter.

Her eyelids heaved at the mournful gaze that formed at the edge of the thick green of her snowy irises. On the other side of the tub, just in front of you, she found the inert body of a bloodied girl – her jugular open like a grinning face vomiting clotted blood. Her blood ran thick and heavy from your face; a flickering cigarette dangling from the corner of your lips, smoke rising into the air and only being stopped by the bathroom ceiling, hanging around like a toxic fog.

In cautious strides, Wanda carefully approached the bloodied tub, “Y/n, are you okay, baby?”

“Yes, I am,” you replied in a low voice, still not looking at Wanda standing beside you, “It was raining and I couldn't sleep. So I went out for a while and… she asked me for a ride.”

Wanda glanced at the corpse before sitting on the edge of the rectangular enameled steel tub, like a rag doll full of open patches, still wearing a tube party dress soaked in the color of hemoglobin. As she did, your head dropped down the cheek of her right thigh, blood staining the material of the pajama bottoms she was wearing. She was actually surprised, because you weren't the type to express so much physical affection towards her – yet Wanda's fingers found the crown of your bloodstained head, and there her fingertips bestowed a soothing caress on your scalp.

You took another drag of the cigarette and then dropped the butt on the floor of the bathtub, between your bare feet.

“She said her name is Madison, Madisynn, whatever,” you whispered to Wanda in a low voice, “Kinda reminded me of you. Her appearance, I mean. That's why I chose her.”

“Because you think she looks like me?” The low tone echoed through the bloodied wallpaper.

“Yeah, I guess,” you mussed, “I stayed up all night thinking about how I could kill you. But then I realized that I… I don't want to kill you, Wanda,” you lifted your head, your gaze boring into the vivid green of her eyes, “And then I left and she came asking me for a ride and she looked a lot like you. So it wasn't all that satisfying... because it was kinda like killing you. And I don't think I want that.”

"You don’t want that?"

“No,” again you sunk the skin of your face against Wanda's stained cotton pants, “I think I prefer you alive. It's more fun that way. I like that you’re my girlfriend.”

Her heart rose high in Wanda's chest as soon as the idea became apparent that she would no longer have to live on secretive glances and whispers of love in dark corners, because then, you were girlfriends. You said so. And there was no one else alive in that room that you had to lie to, so it had to be true. You were together, if any unsuspecting onlookers asked you, raising their eyebrows as they did so. You were dating.

Wanda then smiled at you sight, hunched over in a pool of blood in a bathtub and lit by trickles of artificial light. Her victory, her defeat, her obsession. Her girlfriend (touched up by gut marks that crisscrossed your scrawny skin). And then, suddenly it was okay – there would be no severed head, shattered jugular or cut in her own skin (your initial pulsing in her collarbone) that would stop Wanda from loving you as much as she did.

“I also like that you’re my girlfriend, Y/n,” she whispered, her hands smeared with the blood that soaked through your hair, “I love you. I love you so, so much.”

And Wanda didn't care at all when, minutes later, you nearly choked the life out of her when you fucked her just a feet away from a dead body.

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