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simpjaes · 2 months

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ONE OF THE DAMNED GIRLS PT.1 (P.SH)

Moving to a city with wild nights and charming days felt like the perfect choice in your head upon finishing college. Hours away from home, you accept a job at a local museum ironically placed dead between a large historic cathedral and a booming gothic nightclub. You were meant to curate the art, not be curated yourself by a local priest who found you with buckled knees outside of said goth club. ― part two here!! | MINORS DNI

PAIRING ― vampire park sunghoon x afab reader

WORDCOUNT ― 20.4k

CONTENT ― modern vampire sunghoon, cathedral/chapel settings, blasphemous behavior, false holy facades, the main vampire trope i use is the act of drinking blood, luring, and living forever, heavy manipulation and toxic behaviors, mentions of reader being alt/goth

SIDE CHARACTERS― jungwon as your very very best friend who has an installation at the museum (you guys are attached at the hip), jay as the hot bisexual bartender at the goth club, some goth guy named balor

!WARNINGS! ― dubious consent (due to the act of mind manipulation), hunting and playing victim, a lot of blood: blood sucking, wounds/puncturing, menstruation in a sexual light, manipulation, near-death experiences, fainting, talk of death, acts of mind control/luring

NOTE ― here is part one of the first vampire fic i've ever felt compelled to write in my life. shout out to me, myself, and i for being entirely deranged and coming up with on a whim based on a song a lovely anon sent to me. this is semi-proof read, and does require two parts to get the full story.

tags under cut

smut tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic] ― big meat sunghoon, biting, A LOT OF BLOOD, sucking and drinking of blood obv, pussy eating (once while reader is menstruating, and another time where she isn’t), deep penetration, rough sex, unprotected sex bc like…he’s dead so lmfao, missionary, scratching, dirty talk, body worship, praise, jungwon is involved in a bit of an erotic situation but there is not smut involving him,

other tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic]― depictions of death, anti-religious language, the act of dying including intense descriptions of the feeling, mentions of pimping and human trafficking, corrupt government, dead nuns, funerals

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Upon moving to this city, all you have in your mind is the future. Of what could possibly come of you here? The museum is truly beautiful, propped in the center of the historic district, a mere ten or so blocks from your newly renovated apartment.

Years worth of study has led you here and honestly you’re sure you never would have found this city as lovable as it is if it weren’t for those credit hours you poured into art history and architecture. Truly, you feel at home here. Especially working within the historic district at that beautiful museum.

The rest of the city is quite modern. A bit boring to look at if you’re being honest but, thankfully, your place of work offers much for the eye to devour. The museum itself is quite victorian, with rococo styling throughout. Many could call this an eye sore, but you find yourself loving every inch of the place. You feel like a willow wisp in the clutches of that museum, and honestly you’re more than excited to grow bored of seeing such beauty on a day to day basis.

Across the street sits another old building, also victorian in style. The large and tacky sign glowing with neon lights that reads “AFTER LIFE” goes to show that it’s very clearly a club. And the attire of those who go to and fro through the doors only further proves that it’s more than just that. It’s a goth club.

Which, arguably, high-school you would’ve died to be able to attend. Thankfully, that little goth girl inside of you still lives strong and surely the club will be a place you’ll frequent during your free time. It’s not too hard to dress the part considering you are an art loser. The majority of your clothing consists of black, colored hair, and wild make up anyway. All you gotta do is forego the ratty coveralls or the typical business quirky you go for at work and you’re good to go.

Last but not least regarding the charm of the historic district, your favorite site. One that is so profound to you and likely everyone else who visits this town mostly because, well, there isn’t much mention of it on any website regarding the city. In fact, you weren’t aware that such a place existed here until the day you came to view your apartment for the first time.

Seeing it loom from the apartment window very nearly had you sign the lease without so much as looking at the cabinet space or the bathroom setup.

No, nothing in that historic district, absolutely nothing in this city, rivals that of the cathedral that towers above both the club and museum.

There, parked just three blocks down from your place of work, sits the cathedral. Clearly old but well maintained, you can just tell that the building has seen more than enough through the passing decades. The arches are pointed and towering, and the flying buttresses only further your heart to beat with love and admiration for what men could build at one point in time.

You’ll never understand why the preferred style these days consists of primary shapes, anyway. Boxes, cones, spheres. Never twisting hallways or nooks and crannies to hide in. You miss the depth of which buildings used to be. Inside practically a maze, outside a wondrous presentation of knife-sharp features. So intricate, so many lines to trace.

What a shame to find yourself living in a space that’s a mish-mash of perfect boxes, but it’s not so bad when the window offers a daydream, at least.

You’re in love each time you gaze upon the building, actually. It’s a forever reminder that no human being on this earth could make you feel such excitement. Perhaps you’re just a nerd for gothic architecture though. Honestly, it’s a shame that this cathedral seems to be a forgotten gem despite how it’s blatantly visible at almost any view point in the city.

Fortunately for you, this only goes to show that the historic district is just that. There for those who admire, and not for those who gawk. There seems to be rarely any stray humans making their way down this street without at least an inkling of interest in the ancient life that’s been breathed here.

If anything, the streets are filled with what you can assume to be open-minded individuals. Your first day at work showed that much. Tattooed bodies, pierced faces, wild hair, even wilder attire. Yes, you feel right at home.

And despite the excitement of living in a new city where you seem to fit like a puzzle piece, life can still grow boring after a certain amount of time has passed. For you, it’s taken about three weeks of training, well-slept nights, and cozy days.

Even through the summer, the nights still have a chill in the air. Which is nice but even your night-time walks have become an auto-pilot task that offers nothing new to your forever hungry brain. So, with the weekend fast approaching, you figure there’s no better time than now to dust off those hot platform boots you bought on a whim years ago and have yet to wear.

You’re going to the booming “after life”.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Well.

“After life” is certainly a perfect name for the club if the intensity of the drinks alone is anything to go by. Inside is adorned with stark black walls and silver trim, loads upon loads of purple and red curtains, women and men near-nude wrapped in straps and chains.

It only took two drinks to see the black painted walls as a beautiful void in space with wonderful dancing bodies falling into it. You can’t stop smiling through the warmth in your cheeks and dancing to deep bass with husky voiced music. Your arms stay in the air as you dance, and you welcome any dancing partner up until your third drink.

God, the drinks are strong. Or perhaps it’s just the specific drink you’ve grown partial to. One they call “Red Death”, which according to the handsome bartender, was quite popular in the 90s. You see exactly why it was so popular, considering it basically hit you like a fucking truck in the middle of this club and has you stumbling out the front door without so much as remembering why your feet are moving in the first place.

Unsure of how much time has passed since you got here, you nearly forget the extra five inches under your feet as you stumble your way through the heavy doors in front of the club. A kind bouncer with the whites of his eyes tattooed helps you with your balance as you step out, chuckling and noting that you’re definitely new here.

His strong hold on you is kind and gentle compared to the bouncers outside of the clubs back home, and despite how drunk you are, you still feel as safe as you do inside of your own apartment when he gives you a small “woah there.”

Thankfully, he keeps to himself after helping you regain balance, once again unlike most bouncers at clubs. You’re left to your own drunken plans now as you wobble around the building in search of a bench to sit on and sober up. Thankfully, that very bench is found sitting lonely on the backside of the building. You can still hear the muffled music from inside, but you’re currently spinning and able to hear just about anything, you think.

You hear your ass thump to the ground when you try to take a seat, missing the bench completely and falling a full two feet with your head hitting the bricked wall behind you.

Honestly, all you can do is laugh at yourself as you hold your head. The fall didn’t hurt, and thank fuck no one is around to have witnessed that from you. To think your senses are enhanced at this moment is quite a feat, considering you were so focused on hearing everything that you completely forgot to determine which of the two benches in your drunken vision was the real one.

And as you accept your seat on the ground as the space you’ll sober up in, your senses prove yet again to at least be slightly more amplified than usual.

A heavy scent of cinnamon wafts through your nose as you breathe in the brisk summer air and immediately you try to adjust your eyes to whatever the scent is coming from. Or, whoever.

Then, a cold hand on your shoulder. You didn’t even see him before smelling or feeling him, but somehow, your vision adjusts immediately as if you’re not drunk at all.

In fact, looking at the man is entirely sobering.

“Child, temptation has you by the throat.”

“I’m no child.” You scoff at the voice reaching your ears, frustrated as you try to chase the fizzling drunk feeling. A waste of money, you could say, to lose the dizzy feeling so fucking fast.

The man stands in front of you, clad in black, offering a gentle smile.

You can imagine you look a mess, sitting on the ground outside of a night club, but that should be expected you’d think.

“It’s a figure of speech.” The man shrugs with a chuckle. “Now, now. Allow me to help you, my dear, you are in no shape to be left to your own devices.”

You look up at him, noting that the man appears to be a priest. What kind of priest wanders around goth clubs this time of the night?

Then again, you don’t even know what time it is. What you do know is that you’re nearly entirely sober now for some fucking reason, and you absolutely can be left to your own devices.

“No, I’m fine. I don’t live too far.” You shake your head at him, but he pulls you up anyway.

Oh, a rush of woozy nausea. Your ankles buckle immediately upon trying to stand and the man simply keeps his smile aimed at you.

“My conscience will not allow me to leave you be.” He says, taking your arm and leading you further down the street.

You’re unsure as to why you don’t fight him on it now. There’s a feeling in your body that tells you to go with him, and who are you to fight it?

Strangely enough, your eyes sparkle as he leads you straight to that very cathedral that floods your thoughts on most weekdays during work. So big, so beautiful, so otherworldly to see so closely.

You stare up at the towering building even as he helps you through the doors, and then your eyes immediately adjust to the vaulted ceilings and darkened stained glass windows with only the moonlight shining through.

God, it’s more beautiful inside.

You’re entirely mesmerized by the building, blinking up at every inch of the walls and ceiling. It’s pristine inside compared to the outside, and the floors shine so beautifully even in the low-light. Your boots stomp with each step against the well-maintained floors, to the point you can feel the vibrations running from your toes to the top of your head.

You can feel your skin tighten at the viewing experience, every hair on your body raising in euphoria, pupils growing wide and dark. You smile, feeling your face flush as if you’ve got a man between your legs. There is no man though though, no. Just big arches and echoed footsteps.

It’s simply too beautiful to comprehend with a semi-drunken brain for the first time.

The man saunters through the building with you in tow a bit too quickly than you’d prefer though. You try to soak in the image of the main chapel before he leads you away from it, and thankfully you caught a decent look at the gold and silver adornments surrounding a centered altar. The figure within the altar didn’t quite get more than a glance, but you could have sworn it was no religious figure that you know the name of.

And then, within three blinks, you’re in a corridor where whispering nuns look on. Their voices sound high-pitched even in a whisper but it slows your heart rate down to that of near sleep. Drowsiness overtakes you as you blink out of sync, barely able to comprehend that you should be at home rather than in this wondrous and magnificent building with a strange priest.

Still, even as the corridor grows less and less extravagant, where the stomping of your boots on the floor turns to that of breaking up dust and weighing down creaking wood, you find it all the more beautiful behind your heavy-lidded eyes.

The deeper into the cathedral you go, the older it becomes. Where electricity turns to candles, and then candles turn to pure moonlight shining through stained glass windows.

Even up the spiraling concrete stairs, you feel your feet carry you more than the priest with his back turned to you. He wouldn’t need to lead you through this building at all, as the feeling in your gut would likely have you explore the place inch by inch if you were given the permission.

Still, even while your mind is sober but your body is drunk, you find it hard to believe that people still reside here. Never once seeing anyone come from the cathedral since being in this city. And trust, you have honestly stared at it day after day during work.

That means nothing to you now though, considering you’re inside the building, being led to a small room for sleep where your sleepy eyes devour the small bed against the wall.

The man who led you here lends no more words or thoughts to you as he steps inside, presents the room to you, and then quickly leaves with that same smile he gave you outside of the club.

A nun replaces him with light and silent footsteps, running past you to fluff the flattened pillow on the bed. Another came in behind her with a small bowl of crackers and a glass of water. She holds out the bowl and glass, urging you to take them from her.

Naturally, you do. Popping a cracker into your mouth and instantly feeling it soak up any saliva in your mouth, leaving it feeling dry and sore before you sip the water. And with a nod from the two nuns, they leave you be.

This room appears to be that for refuge, surely for those the church takes in when they’re in need of a warm bed and some food.

You smile, saying nothing as you sit down on the bed and place the glass and bowl on the small ledge by the window. There, you take off your boots and flop back without so much as sinking under the thin covers, and you fall asleep as if there’s nowhere else on this earth you’d rather be.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The sun feels warm against your face when you stir from your slumber. Your eyes feel heavy though, so you simply lay here and breathe in the strange heavy air. Your eyebrows furrow at the feeling of the bed beneath you. Stiff, hard, uncomfortable. Clearly, you’re not at home.

And, well, that’s when the happenings of last night dawn on you. You can barely comprehend what the helpful priest looked like, better yet how long it took for your feet to carry you to this room.

When you open your eyes and squint to look out of the stained window, most of the city is distorted through the tinted colors, but you can tell that you’re quite high up in the building. Then again, the throbbing in your feet could have probably told you that.

Still, sitting in this bed now feels much more uncomfortable than it did when you initially laid down. Your head pounds as you pinch the bridge of your nose, squinting around the room and trying to grasp your memory.

The only thing you remember is the cold hand that guided you here and every beautiful inch of the cathedral. Which can only mean, you have no fucking idea how to get out of here.

Oh, the horror and embarrassment of needing to search for someone to help you leave feels unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Surely, if you’re silent with your feet, you can search the halls until you manage to find a back door, right? At least the route would be scenic and interesting if you can manage it.

And, well, you do try. Searching for a staircase the moment you leave your room simply because you know that the only way home is down at least a hundred steps. Strangely enough, your instincts seem to know exactly where to go.

Somehow.

Your socked feet carry you straight downstairs and to the main cathedral. You weren’t necessarily expecting to find a room full of people upon entering the space either. After all, if it were Sunday perhaps you’d have to drag your hungover ass past a crowd participating in Sunday mass.

Despite never seeing a soul enter this cathedral save for yourself and that priest.

Weird, there are a few people with bowed heads sitting in the pews of the main chapel. All appear to be clad in black and gold, one or two others with silver. Not entirely cloaked but still incredibly eerie from behind as you look on with each silent foot step.

And suddenly, your body freezes.

There, at the center of the altar stands a stoic man. Posture so straight you could argue he is nothing but an ancient statue. Behind him, you note that there is an actual statue of a figure standing much the same, far too distant to make out the face of.

Only for a moment do you recall glancing at the statue from the night before, noting how it resembled no god nor deity that you’re aware of. It doesn’t even resemble a human the longer you stare at it, actually.

Ah. Yes. The vibes in this cathedral are off. From your feet somehow knowing the place as if it’s your own home to the silent chapel bowing their heads to an even more silent man standing frozen in the center. If at all, you feel like you’ve been caught in a photo, stuck with your feet on this single tile with the front doors just out of your reach.

That is, until one of those whispering nuns makes her way to you, tapping your shoulder with a nod and a very quiet, “Shall I see you out?”

And she does, opening the large doors for you and closing them behind you without so much as a sound.

Strange, because you remember the echo of those doors closing from the night before. But whatever, you guess, as you’re assaulted with the bright afternoon sun forcing your eyes to tear up.

You take a step through the flash-bang of summer air, slowly adjusting your eyesight to the very museum you work at. Bustling with your co-workers who are made to work this weekend, you try to avoid being seen. After all, as a new employee, the last thing you need is to be perceived as a hungover mess while walking out of that weird fucking cathedral with nothing more than socked feet and a pair of stompers held against your chest.

And so, you make the short trek home, thankful for the walkable city but entirely unthankful for the charming weather your realtor promised for this time of the year. It’s fresher than you’d like for it to be outside today, the warm sun keeping you at a perfect temperature while the cold breeze offers a shiver here and there.

You’re not sure why it pisses you off. It’s probably the headache that only pounds harder and harder with each step you take.

Finally, you make it to your apartment. You feel cold when you step inside the lobby and make your way up. Somehow you feel even colder when find yourself at the window, gazing at the same cathedral you just spent the night in, looking hazy in the afternoon sun.

It looms there in the city, with its elder rooted walls and pointed arches. Still so beautiful, still so mysterious, still so fucking luring.

Even after sleeping there, and even after you felt the vibrations inside skew your comfort, it stands out not only in the city, but in your brain. With the modern city only forcing it to stick out like a sore thumb, you can argue that the city could be just as old and still that cathedral would offer a shiver down your spine.

Your head pulses at the sunlight shining through your window, forcing your eyes from the darkened haunt, and you’re quick to make your way to the kitchen to rummage for something to help with the headache.

And by the time you flop down on your couch, you drift back to sleep, realizing that you’re not entirely sure if you slept at all the night before. Despite waking up, despite not remembering a thing from after you laid down, and despite feeling rejuvenated in every aspect aside from sleep.

That rejuvenation strangely drains you more as you drift to sleep, finding it so unnatural that you willingly slept in a maze filled with no face you can put a name to.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Making your first friend feels good. Weeks worth of pretending and hoping you and your co-workers would somehow become besties outside of the museum walls fell short, after all. Not that you don’t consider them friends, it’s more so just the fact that they’re all a bit too stoic and up-tight for you.

You’re quite a bit younger as well. You can tell that they lost their spark for creating art years ago, if they ever even created it in the first place, anyway. It’s all just curating, curating, curating for them. An eye for beauty only, which is respected and appreciated but still, no eye for fun outside of these walls though.

That’s where Jungwon comes in. A young artist with first-installation jitters dimpling his cheeks as he offers the smallest “hello” that you think you’ve ever heard from another person.

He’s similar to you in the way he dresses. He works hard, amazing you with each piece of his collection that’s pulled from a tightly packed box, filled with bubble wrap and slammed with “FRAGILE” stickers.

Arguably, you don’t need to be friends with your co-workers when you have artists like him coming in and out every few months. He’s quite lively, very excited, and almost clumsy in the way he carries himself.

You were endeared with him the moment you met him and honestly just three days in, the two of you are practically attached at the hip as you push and work hard alongside him to set up the installation as perfectly as possible for the following weekend.

And, well, the first showing went off without a hitch. His smiling face could have been seen for miles, you think, as you watch him mingle and blush at each compliment and critique of his work.

So bright.

So full of life.

The exact person you’d want to be around.

“Jungwon–” You elbow him in the side as he nods and shakes hands through each farewell while the museum comes to its close for the night. “It’s Friday.” You smile.

He nods you off, paying close attention to each face that came to visit his work. And only when the halls are empty does he make his way back to you with a deep exhale and a loud, relieved groan.

“Finally.” He huffs, blowing a strand of his hair up and into the air. “Just fifty nine more days to go.”

You roll your eyes fondly at him already counting down until the two of you are scheduled to take down his work.

“You do know you only need to be here for opening night, right?” You laugh.

“Well, yeah.” He shrugs. “But it’s my first installation, I worry some kid will come wipe his snotty nose all over my hard work.”

You chuckle, he chuckles, and then you turn to face him.

“So, it’s Friday.”

He bounces on his feet.

“Yeah, glad to see you seem to grasp the idea of fleeting time and whatnot.” He looks at you with a mischievous smile. “What about it?”

“We should go out. The club across the street has really strong drinks for half the price as most places.”

You watch as Jungwon’s eyes shine when they flick behind you to glance out the window. Then his face falls, his eyebrow raises, and he tilts his head.

“You do realize we’ve been here for like, eighteen hours straight, right?”

You nod casually with a shrug.

“I live super close by, if we get tired, you can just crash on my couch.”

He pretends like he thinks it over for more than two seconds before ultimately accepting the offer of fun.

“Cool. Wanna meet me there in an hour? I should probably change and stuff first.”

You eye over his outfit, and then give yourself a quick glance.

“Good plan.” You smile, backing away and throwing your bag over your shoulder. “An hour. Be there.”

You both nod in agreement and go your separate ways. Sleepy, but entirely willing to celebrate Jungwon’s huge accomplishment with drinks that have already proven to be too strong.

The hour passes quickly, wearing that same pair of boots for a second time now that you have the perfect place and reason to stomp around in them. This time, you even go as far as darkening your lips and smearing your mascara just a smidge. After all, you’re definitely gonna get drunk and your makeup will be smeared by the end of the night regardless.

You gasp upon seeing Jungwon’s chosen attire, offering him an “Ooooh” the second you walk up to him. He had been leaning against the front doors of the museum, as if he’s simply an on looker and not a working artist with a top-notch showcase within those walls.

He lends you a matching “Ahhhh” upon seeing your chosen outfit. Both of you somehow match in a way that makes this appear more like a date night rather than friends getting drinks. Which is kind of cute and a welcomed idea if the two of you have one to many and accidentally start making out or something.

It feels platonic enough to laugh off in the morning, anyway. And really, while his boots don’t lend him extra height, he stomps around in them much like you do your own. With his black knit sweater littered in frays and pulled yarn, and his hair intentionally messed up.

“Wonnie,” You offer the nickname easily as you grab onto his arm and check the street for cars before beginning to cross. “I think some eyeliner could finish off your look.” You laugh as the two of you practically prance with heavy boots to the club.

He smiles at the nickname, hiding his face only slightly in his sweater when he blinks back at you with sparkly eyes.

“Really?” He smiles, dimples on full display for the tattooed bodies lined up outside, already checking out the artist.

“Yeah, oh–” You huff, digging in your small shoulder bag. “I have some, let’s do the finishing touch.”

And when the two of you stand at the back of the line, you do just that. Carefully holding his cheek in one hand and lining the lower lashes on his left eye.

He doesn’t even close his eyes, and instead looks up into the night sky with that same dimple showing. Blinking every few seconds at the sensitivity, ignoring the fact that his eyes start to prickle at the feeling.

“It tickles,” He chuckles in a hushed whisper, never having a friend be so close to his face like this before. “How do you manage to do this every day?”

“I guess you just get used to it after a while.” You focus on the way the darkened color brings his eye to seem more catty than it already was, taking your thumb and swiping the bottom lid to smear the charcoal makeup.

You note how innocent and shining his other eye looks compared. Nevertheless, you go to rest your hand on his other cheek now.

Just for a moment, his eyes flash down to look at you. So, so close to his face. Instantly, you lend him a pause and your own smile.

“You’re blushing.” You laugh, holding your hand steady in wait as he shifts his weight to the other leg out of natural nervousness.

“Sorry,” He whispers out, blinking frantically to prepare for his other eye to tickle. “I’m not used to being this close to someone.”

Ah, you don’t believe that for a second.

“Look up.” You instruct, already lining his other lashes. “Feels like I’m putting the finishing touches to a masterpiece.” You add in a lame chuckle, feeling a little flustered yourself the more you note how his eyes water at the tickle. They shine so pretty.

He laughs out at your comment, a hand shooting to your wrist as you smear the liner on him. Not to be intimate or anything, just simply to steady your hand more.

“I guess I am kinda the canvas like this, huh?” He comments, standing as still as he can while looking up at the moon. “Hey–”

“Hm?” You say, pulling your hand back now and doing the same with your thumb to smear the make up into perfection on his flawless little face.

“What kind of gum is that?” He asks, blinking a few times before adjusting his eyes properly and pretending like he can’t feel the waxy substance caked on his lashes.

“Just regular spearmint.” You give him a half smile. “Why, you want a piece?”

He nods, mostly because if he had known you were going to get this close to his face, he probably would have already had some type of candy in his mouth.

Again, it’s not like he has feelings or anything. It’s just, well, it’s always intimate to have someone so close to you. In your space. Your bubble. No one ever gets that close unless they want to kiss. Or, he guesses, if they’re putting eyeliner on you.

“You look really cute,” You comment now, stepping back after giving him a piece of gum and looking over how the smeared makeup really does complete his look. “Should’ve brought one of my chokers too. Now that, yeah.”

“Huh?” He tilts his head as the two of you move up the line. “You’re really into this kind of scene aren’t you?”

You nod shyly.

“Was a total mall goth back when I was a teenager. I would’ve stalked you around the mall if you looked like this back then, really. Totally my type.”

He lends a bashful blink and a half-hearted laugh, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking to the ground.

“Well, when I was a teenager I looked like the person who invented calculus.”

“And now you’re just a little work of art, huh?” You continue the cringey art-jokes, mostly because you like the way he tries to pretend they’re funny rather than utterly horrifying.

And he does smile at it, ears flowing with heat as he blushes. He probably wouldn’t feel so shy if it weren’t for the fact that he also heard compliments all day about his art. He’s a bit sensitive right now.

“I guess so.” He accepts your compliment like all the others, lifting his shoulder to his cheek with a squinted eye. It’s nice to feel like the world’s favorite person for a night, truly.

And the conversation is even easier from here on out. Albeit, a bit flirty but it stills platonic enough to where the two of you are just…in a comfortable little bubble surrounded by faces you don’t know. Perhaps playing the part of being two individuals who came to a club together rather than separately and alone.

As the hours pass, there are several strangers approaching the two of you. Words of “need a third?” and “well aren’t you two just fucking perfect?”

Jungwon basks in it, snickering quietly with you but never denying a single accusation. The two of you play along. Drinking, dancing, and then more drinking. Up until Jungwon decides he’s held his bladder long enough and is off in search of a bathroom while you make your way to the bar.

For more drinks, of course. Not to hit on the bartender you met the first time you came here.

“Another red death?” The man with inky red hair smiles at you, already grabbing a glass and starting your drink.

“Yes but, can I actually–” You pause, glancing at the other man behind the bar.

Red haired man laughs knowingly with a nod and a side eye before pointing silently at his co-worker and raising a brow at you.

You nod back, dipping your face only slightly when you see him take two steps back and whisper to the man.

Instantly, you feel a bit more shy over asking to be served by this guy but goddamn. His dark hair looks slightly damp when his eyes glance to you upon whatever is being whispered in his ear, probably from something spewing in his face after being shaken up, or perhaps from sweat.

You try to avoid eye contact under the man’s gaze when he walks over and in front of you. Sharp jaw, silver chain, loose black t-shirt revealing equally as damp collar bones.

God. The shirt is sticking to him.

“Babe, my eyes are up here.” He laughs, holding an empty cup and leaning on the bar towards you. “Had a little too much to drink again?”

You nod, dazed by his dark eyes before immediately shaking your head.

“Red death, please. Two of them.”

The man nods with a knowing smile.

“I saw that you came here with someone.”

He’s flirting. Mostly for tips but it’s not like he hasn’t been known to take people home from work before so, wherever it goes is where it goes for him.

“Jay, can you grab me the-” The red haired bartender says from behind, and Jay, presumably, hands him a bottle without so much as letting him finish the sentence.

“He’s cute.” Jay continues talking to you, enjoying the way you don’t realize how you fold in on yourself. “Any reason as to why you asked me to make your drink?”

“Um, oh,” You were gonna be bold, but you feel Jungwon suddenly clinging to you from behind, eyeing the bartender just like you are. “I just think you make them better.”

“Did he just say I’m cute?” Jungwon whispers behind your ear, watching the man’s hands as he makes the drinks with expert knowledge.

“You’re both cute.” The bartender smirks, looking between both of you and then offering a wink. “This round is on me.” He adds, sliding both cups forward and brushing your hand just for a moment before turning his attention to someone else.

Honestly, it’s like you and Jungwon are the same person at this moment when you grab your drinks and you turn to face each other.

Both of you, bouncing on your feet with whispered squeals over the hot bartender including both of you in the compliment.

“Oh my god.” You stare forward, tasting the drink and noting that there somehow seems to be more alcohol in this one. “He’s so–”

Jungwon nods to you excitedly, sipping his drink quickly before glancing behind you and meeting the eye of the bartender again.

“He was just looking at your ass.” He comments, flipping his body to cling to your arm and now turning his back to Jay “You think he’s gonna check mine out too?”

You nod with a snicker, the song changing and the tempo instantly drowning your thoughts.

“I love this song!” You shout with drunken glee, already making your way from the bar but keeping that little thought that hopefully, Jay will keep glancing at the two of you simply because it’s fun to be watched by a hottie.

And Jungwon just goes with your flow. Dancing with sticky sweet lips, eyes glazed over from the music and mood. His makeup looks more beautiful now paired with strands of his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen dimples so fucking deep before, and it’s almost painful to remember his face without that smile plastered on it.

“Wonnie,” You grab him by the shoulder and pull him against you, ignoring how his hair dips into your drink for a moment. “I think you’re my best friend.”

And the way he pulls back with a gasp, smiling wider? It shatters your heart just so it can grow larger.

“I am?” He does a little bounce through his dance move, eyes shining in the strobe lights, flashes of red and purple shading his cheeks, only deepening those dimples. “Really?”

Never have you enjoyed spending time with someone like this. Never without crushing hard, never without wanting to take them home and fuck them until you can’t walk. Jungwon is different though. He really does feel like a long lost best friend, like the part of you that has been missing for far too long.

The moment you met him, you clicked in a way that didn’t involve a dick or a hole. I mean, sure you’d probably fuck him for funsies but there’s really no point in it because you feel perfectly happy, perfectly fulfilled, just having him spend his free time with you.

Surely when he has to travel back home, you’re going to cry.

“Why do you have to live so far away?” You pause your dancing, making yourself sad at the thought that he will only be here for a few weeks. “Who am I gonna hang out with when you leave?”

Jungwon lends you a pouty sound, a coo, almost.

“I only live an hour away.” He laughs, leaning forward and plastering his sweaty forehead to yours with a slurred shout so you can hear him clearly. “I’ll come see you all the time!”

And with that, the mood seeps right back into your veins as the smile overtakes you.

You dance with him, forehead to forehead for a long, long, while. Up until the club is so crowded with people that Jay couldn’t possibly be paying attention to anything other than making drinks, and you couldn’t possibly pay attention to anything other than the music vibrating the alcohol in your stomach.

It’s almost suffocating, as you feel a pang in your chest of overheated anxiety. You breathe in, smelling the fifth piece of gum that Jungwon slipped from your pocket on his breath. You exhale, smelling your own sweet alcohol breath before pulling back and dragging Jungwon by the hand into the only corner not packed with people.

“You okay?” Jungwon slurs as he sways in front of you, eyes trying their best to seem concerned. “You look like you might get sick.”

You nod, feeling your mouth fill with warm saliva indicating that you should probably go to the bathroom now.

“Okay, lets get you to-”

You cut Jungwon off with an off balance sprint to the bathroom and somehow he keeps pace with you, gripping your shirt and refusing to lose you in the crowd.

Unfortunately, as you press on your stomach to somehow hold down whatever is trying to come up, you notice how there’s a very long line for the bathroom.

And it’s still suffocating in here.

And your mouth tastes too sweet. And the music is too loud.

“Let’s go outside!” Jungwon shouts against your ear, vibrating your brain as he navigates you through the crowd himself, pressing you up against the front doors of the club before pushing you outside with him close behind.

The waft of breezy summer air instantly fills your lungs and your stomach settles at the space you have to yourself now.

You stumble forward, making your way around the same concerned bouncer from before who only smiles at you and Jungwon struggling to find your footing.

And, like the best friend you knew he became, he tries his best to be the sober friend right now. His voice wavers and crackers when he speaks, but his hands are firm on both of your shoulders as he presses you against the wall behind you.

“Stay here.” Jungwon says with concern still in his voice. “I’m gonna run back in and get us some water, okay?”

And you nod in a daze as your eyes follow him when he disappears back inside. You note how he says something to the bouncer before opening the doors, and surely he simply asked that the guy keep an eye on you.

“You should probably eat something soon, sweetheart.” The kind bouncer comments to you in the night air, stepping closer to you and standing just against the wall next to you.

You feel protected by him, so there are no alarm bells ringing.

“You know I can’t let you back in, right?” He chuckles as he speaks to you calmly.

“Oh, I bet.” You laugh, breathing in the air again and again, still not regretting the fun you’ve had for the past few hours. “Just gonna sit here and wait for Wonnie, he’ll help me get home.”

“Good, good.” The bouncer confirms your words, still standing protective next to you when you hear the doors fly open and a few seconds of booming music before it’s muffled again.

Jungwon flops down in front of you on the sidewalk now, two water bottles in hand with a smile on his face.

“Jay gave me these.” He smiles. “He said if we can handle waiting til closing time he can drive us home.”

You laugh sheepishly. Unfortunately, you’re a bit too drunk and you know you probably wont make it another hour and a half with an additional however much time it’ll take for him to close up the club before needing to pass the fuck out.

“I think I’ll have to take him up on that next time.” You slur your words. “You’ll help me walk home right, Wonnie? It’s a short walk.”

Jungwon nods, still doing his best to act as sober as he can, but the bouncer shuts him down fast.

“Oh, I don’t think so buddy.” The bouncer laughs. “You’re both fucked out of your mind.”

You laugh, Jungwon laughs, and the bouncer throws in his own hearty sigh.

“Fuck–” You have a sudden, sober thought. “The tab. Jungwon, did we pay the tab?”

He pauses, eyes widening.

“Shit.” He explains before jumping up on unsteady feet. “Can you help her call for a ride?” He slurs out at the bouncer, only disappearing inside again when the kind goth nods at the request.

And as you sit here in the silence after the bouncer helps you order a ride, a few minutes pass. Your eyes are out of focus as you stare up into the night sky before closing them.

You could fall asleep right here on the sidewalk if you’re not careful.

Another few minutes pass, now a loud slam of the doors rings in your tired ears now and you jolt out of the drowsy state, opening your eyes thinking you’ll find Jungwon rushing to you but instead, you note how suddenly you’re entirely alone.

You don’t know how long you’ve sat here, or where the bouncer went, better yet why Jungwon isn’t back yet but what you do know is that suddenly, you’re mind is sober and fucking assaulted by the smell of cinnamon.

You glance around, trying to focus on the scent and where it’s coming from when– oh.

There, walking down the sidewalk is that fucking priest from before. Tall, clad yet again in black clothes, and he simply pauses his step in front of you.

“Again?” The man calls out to you with an amused voice, lending you his hand, but you don’t take it.

Instead, the doors suddenly fly open and Jungwon stumbles out again, nearly tripping over his own feet with an apology of “sorry, jay was trying to convince us to–”

“Uh, hi?” Jungwon interrupts himself as he takes note of the man standing in front of you. “The fuck are you?” He checks the man out, not quite able to focus on him in full.

The priest nods his head at both of you, staring Jungwon up and down before landing his eyes back on you.

“Get her home safe.” He says nothing else before continuing his nightly stroll.

And, well, you do get home safe.

You and Jungwon are a mess of limbs in the short ride to your apartment, and an even messier pile of idiots by the time you make it inside. The couch is long forgotten by the time you close your front door, feeling Jungwon follow you all the way to your plush bed with drunken groans and giggles.

There, you flop onto the bed fully clothed without so much as a happy “goodnight” and you’re both drifting off to sleep. Jungwon’s heavy limbs are thrown on you as he loosely spoons you. Like he’s still trying to take care of you despite the fact that you no longer feel sick, and you’re both perfectly safe behind your apartment walls.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Have you no shame?

Fuck no.

What about Jungwon? Nah.

Both of you have a pep in your step by the next Friday, waiting for the museum to close so Jungwon can walk home with you and get all dressed up and ready for another fall into the infamous “after life”.

“We should try to stay until closing, maybe Jay will bring us home this time.” Jungwon wiggles his eyebrows as you put his eyeliner on for him again.

“We’re gonna have to look real good then, yeah?” You smile at his pretty smeared eyes, reaching your hand up and ruffling his hair.

And you do. Both of you dress up in the darkest, blackest, sexiest fit you can find in your closet. Jungwon is sporting one of your pretty, sheer lace undershirts beneath his own unbuttoned black cardigan, pants tight and low on his waist.

You, with another semi-transparent shirt. Sheer, showing all the goods if you hadn’t put on a nice fitting bralette under it. Cute skirt that shows your thighs, the stompers, of course.

And the finishing touch this time? Matching chokers.

“Cute.” You comment, leaning forward and popping a minty kiss to the tip of Jungwon’s nose.

“You too.” He smiles, pinching your waist before turning to face your vanity mirror and checking himself out.

Cute is right. Jay’s probably gonna fall to the floor when he gets a look at the two of you.

And, well. The night is a blur.

Jay does, in fact, eye the two of you with that sharp smirk like he did last weekend but you, unfortunately, drink far too much yet again.

Jungwon slowed down a bit towards midnight but he kept an eye on you for the most part. Trying to secure the ride for both of you by orbiting around the bar and making flirty talk with both bartenders when time allowed it.

You stayed on the dance floor through it. Sometimes dancing with Jungwon when he comes up behind you with clingy hands and updates on the Jay situation, but after a few songs he’d wander off again.

It’s nice, kind of. Having someone with you that can maintain control through your own drunken stupidity. You don’t mind dancing alone, after all, you’re not entirely alone giving the pretty men and girls who come by to dance with you every other song when Jungwon isn’t around.

And of course, around the same time as last time, you find your mind feeling suffocated by the time the club is at capacity.

You sway on the dance floor in search of Jungwon, unsure of which way the bar is because your eyes simply can’t adjust to the darkness and flashing lights by this point.

Dimples. You need to find the sunshine face in this void of darkness.

And you search.

And search.

Until you’re stumbling out the front doors alone, knowing that if Jungwon is looking for you, he’ll probably know you stepped out to breathe at some point.

Just like the week before, the crip summer air outside instantly settles your stomach and breathing comes easier. You feel more sober than you thought you were as you sit here, making small talk with the bouncer who finally introduces himself to you.

“That’s a good name for a big goth teddy bear.” You mock the man. “Balor.”

“In the flesh.” The man waves you off.

And then, suddenly, the bouncer is stepping closer to you with a stiffened shoulder, the air outside shifting to something else for him, but you’re completely unaware of it.

“I need to step inside for a moment, will you be alright for a few minutes?” He knows he shouldn’t step inside, but in all fairness, it’s kind of the protocol at this point.

Considering that man has made himself very clear that if he’s near the club at all, it’s for good reason and he’s not to be interrupted. At least, that’s what code is for the bouncers here at this club.

It’s a shame though, to know he has to leave you to the night. You’re a fun girl, peppy and sweet, not rude or hard to make small talk with on the long nights of work. Maybe you drink a little too much, but still. It’s not like the bouncer knows why he is to leave the sidewalk when a certain someone wanders by. What he does know is that more often than not, he’ll sink away inside only to resume his position alone, with no one left on the sidewalk.

Probably just a pimp.

Or human trafficking.

He isn’t sure, but time and time again he has been told to leave it be. That it’s nothing wretched. That it’s simply a territory that isn’t their own.

Still, you nod to the bouncer.

“If you see Wonnie, can you scold him for letting me get lost?”

You miss the look of concern on the bouncer’s face.

“Hey, come back inside, I’ll help you find him.”

“Oh, hello again.” A voice echoes from around the corner, causing the bouncer’s shoulders to fall as he immediately offers you a small “I'll find him–” before disappearing behind the heavy doors with haste.

And then, cinnamon. The spicy scent wafting through you so fast that you’re almost dizzy.

More dizzy than you already were, anyway.

“Have you learned nothing?” The priest walks up to you, chuckling and raising his eyebrows.

“Weird ass priest.” You say, paying no mind to the happenings of just now, totally unaware of the energy surrounding you.

“And to what god do you believe I pray?” He tilts his head as he stands in front of you, hands behind his back, leaning down at the waist to position his face in front of yours.

The question makes you look up at him with a skewed brow.

“The usual one?” You ask, rolling your eyes at the silly meeting.

Again.

A third meeting.

“Ah, the usual one.” He mocks, nodding his head before standing back up and towering over you. “Do you seek him out?”

You nod momentarily, having never been religious but at this moment, as drunk as you are and as alone as you feel with this strange man, only god could answer your curious question as to why you keep meeting him.

As to why you’re always all on your own when he appears.

As to why he forces a hope in your mind that god is really out there, and he’ll protect you when the bouncer isn’t here.

“Was that a nod?” He smiles at you, landing a cold hand on your shoulder.

“Yes,” You whisper out, feeling heavy and more and more dizzy by the moment. Not from the alcohol but from something else. “Do you know where I can find him?”

Your voice calls out on its own to him. You don’t recall wanting to ask him that, nor do you recall even thinking those words before saying them.

“He’s right here, love–” The priest pulls back, presenting the space in front of him before turning his hands inward and presenting himself to you. “I am God.”

You freeze, a rush of cold running through your veins. Surely you’re hearing him wrong despite that voice echoing those words in your head three, four, five, six times.

“Isn’t that considered blasphemy?” You try to play it off in a joke, hiding the chill down your spine.

Pretending you’re not interested.

Wondering why it is that you are, actually.

“Perhaps on any other street.” He confirms for you, now crouching down and showing his face plainly to you. “Do you keep secrets?”

Your body nods before you can think to do it yourself, and you narrow your eyes for a moment at him. He’s…insane looking. Unnaturally flawless. Like those little speckles of moles on his face were placed with perfected intention.

You’re mesmerized as he looks at you, eyes glancing to each part of your face, watching your expression change and fall, then rise and– he chuckles fondly, deeply.

“I believe you.”

Why do you feel proud of that?

“Come back with me, yes?”

There’s a long pause as you fight to think for yourself. If Jungwon were here with you right now, surely you’d be more grounded than you feel right now. Surely, you’d be having a heated conversation involving some sort of shared fantasy over that bartender.

What was his name again?

J…J-

Your eyes adjust to the face in front of you as you lose your train of thought. Something inside of you pulls. You can’t tell if it’s your heart or your thoughts but it appears to be instinctual when you replay his invitation in your head. On any other night, with any other man, you’d say no.

Under these circumstances alone, you should be running away.

This man. Dressed as a holy priest, walking to and fro from what you assume to be his home within that unnatural cathedral, presenting himself as god.

You should stand up and disappear into a crowd of rowdy dancers.

You should find Jungwon and cling to him.

You should push him away, and you should be recoiling by his cold hand that brushes your cheek. His voice shouldn’t feel so good in your ears. Like a siren, something inside of you doesn’t want you to run.

“Temptation has you by the throat, my dear.” He smiles as his hand brushes your warm cheek again and again. “You seem rather fond of the feeling.”

And now he flashes his teeth to you. Glistening brighter than the moon, he appears all but natural to you at this moment when you spiral internally at how fucking beautiful he is. Surely this guy is just a turbo goth that truly lives the life. Probably gives his heart to satan and only fucks during a full moon.

And oh, wouldn’t you know.

You glance up at the sky again, the moon full and nearly pulsing in the sky like it’s a living being itself. Then your eyes fall back to the priest, his smile still present.

A weirdo. A freak.

But…aren’t you too?

You barely feel yourself stand up and take a step forward under his arm. You follow the scent of him if nothing else. Heavy in your nose, like a hidden treasure cloaked by the darkened fabric draping over his body.

You want to smell it deeper. Maybe if he were to take off those clothes you could–

“By the throat.” He mumbles quietly as he leads you away from the club.

Away from familiarity. Away from Jungwon. Away from the public.

There, straight back to that damned cathedral.

You’re more unnerved this time though, because the moment you step through the doors, you cannot, for the life of you, recall what you were supposed to be doing.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Waking up with a weight on your side, you smile at the feeling of what you assume to be Jungwon next to you. As you lay here, not quite comprehending what happened in the blur of the night before, you start to take note of something. Color.

The light behind your closed eyelids don’t match the yellow-white light of the sun shining through your bedroom window. No, you’re seeing colors.

Blue, red, green–

“Wonnie?” You call out, squinting your eyes open, not quite processing the room before you feel a pit in your stomach. “Wonnie?”

Holy shit.

You thought it was a dream.

You thought coming back to this cathedral was nothing more than a drunken dream. That the weight on your side was more than just a misplaced pillow.

And as you lay here in a room that isn’t yours, and most certainly a different room compared to the one you slept in previously here, you try to think.

Was it not a dream?

The way the priest held you close and inhaled you? The way he put you to bed and left you here in the darkness? The way you– oh.

This feeling in your chest, pulling, pushing, weighing so heavy. Something inside of you wants to see him despite your uncomfortable awakening. No, you need to see him. This feeling, you know now, only becomes more aggressive when he’s near too. Which can only mean he isn’t far outside of this room.

You think hard about him and what you can remember outside of the blur in your head. He’s attractive. His face is otherworldly, with eyes so dark you hate that you can very nearly see yourself floating in them.

The image of his face sits clearly in your hungover brain as you try to think. The feeling of his cold skin against your face, his lips, his…

Red.

Panic washes over you when you jump out of bed, ignoring the head rush and the way you immediately topple over and onto the floor. You need to go home, you need to find Jungwon and make sure he made it somewhere safe last night. You need to find your phone, and your…purse?

Your shoes?

Where the fuck are your things?

You plant your hands against the cold wooden floors, staring straight down as you try to think. Still, nothing comes but blurry images of the club and then solid images of Sunghoon flashing like still photographs behind your eyes.

Are you losing your goddamn mind?

Finally, you take a deep breath and stand on your feet, rushing for the door and expecting it to open easily, just like this time. But no. It’s locked. You’re fucking locked in. Which is– fuck, you can’t think straight. And while you still recognize that you’re not expected at work today, surely Jungown is worried, right?

He’s probably looking for you. Hell, with the way his nerves get to him, you wouldn’t be surprised to know he’s plastered posters all over the city looking for you.

He’s definitely looking for you.

Fortunately though, only a few minutes of pure panic pass when you hear the door unlock and a pale-eyed nun opens the door for you. She instantly sees the fear in your eyes when you take a timid step back.

“Oh, you poor dear–” She coos out, lifting her brows in pity. “Do you not remember?”

You hear her sympathy, feeling your body shiver with relief at her safe and calm voice. Looking up at her, she can already see the question in your eyes. The need for an explanation.

“You did request that I lock the door for you. You were just simply petrified when–”

You gasp at her choice of words, not remembering a single bit of fear from the night before.

“Petrified?” You whisper carefully, wrapping your arms around yourself and nervously looking around the room.

The shrouded woman purses her lips, glancing away from you.

“I do believe Master Sunghoon startled you. He meant no harm, my dear.” She tries to calm your nerves, but the information only stiffens your shoulders more.

“Master?” You question with hesitation. “Do you mean Father? Reverend?”

“Oh.” She purses her lips tighter now, a small smile breaking out at the corners of her lips. “It’s worse than I thought. Please, come with me.”

You shake your head, backing yourself up against the wall.

“It’ll only be a minute,” She waves her hand for you to come. “You’re not in danger, I assure you.”

And as you stand here, knowing that you likely have no choice but to follow her, you hope that her words indicating no danger are truthful. You kind of need them to be, after all.

“Come now, dear.”

Reluctantly, you follow her.

All the way up a too-dark spiral staircase, down two long and dark hallways with vaulted ceilings, and upon rounding a corner, you smell it and you fucking feel a tug in your chest. One that drives you to walk a bit faster, nearly in front of the nun as your feet carry you to where you feel you’re supposed to be.

She chuckles when you reach the large double doors before she does, dipping her head at you before seemingly gliding back down the hallway in silence.

Before you can even knock on the doors, they open with a rush of air hitting you square in your face. It nearly knocks the breath out of you at first, but you inhale deeply the same scent of cinnamon before your breath is actually caught in your throat.

There stands the priest. Or god…or whatever he is.

“Terrified.” He clicks a knowing tongue at you, stepping to the side to invite you into the extravagant room. “Just when I thought you I had you, too.”

You stand in silence in front of him after stepping inside, that tug in your chest trying to pull you directly against the man. Still, you refrain with furrowed brows as you remain silent.

“And yet, here you stand.” He softens his frustrated voice, leaning comfortably against a wooden desk behind him. “The human brain truly is fascinating.”

“Human brain.” You repeat his words to him in an attempt to process them.

“Yes, of course. Yours in particular.” The priest, in his night clothes of a loosened white shirt and long pants makes his way to a bookcase. You watch his slender fingers pull a ratty old book out before he flip through the pages. “I’ve heard about people like you.”

You pause as you watch him push a pair of gold-trimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, a memory flooding to the forefront of your mind as you recall last night to your best ability.

Again, red.

“I used to be like you.” He just talks, offering no context but keeping his sharp gaze on you despite having the book open in his hands.

You find yourself nodding as you listen, feeling your hand raise to your heart as you try to ignore the way the priest, Sunghoon, takes a deep inhale.

There’s nothing that follows his inhale. He doesn’t release that breath as he stares at you and instead just…smirks.

“Last night, you believed me to be god.” He smiles wider now. “You stood in that very spot and undressed yourself.” He takes a step closer to you now, tilting his head with his words. “Do you know what you did next?”

A shaky breath leaves your lips and a shiver runs through you again and again as you shake your head at him. Forgetting just for a moment how to speak.

“You got on your knees and you prayed.”

You drink the thick air in the room like a glass of wine, swallowing harshly, struggling to maintain any type of steady heart beat. You feel allured, aroused, mesmerized, embarrassed.

“What–” Inhale. “Did I pray for?”

Exhale.

“Me.”

Inhale.

Within a split second all the memories come crashing through your skull. Rattling images of that very instance where you were on your knees, right here, fucking praying. Your hand instinctively shoots up to your neck, and there, you feel the drainage points. Two small pricks, just like in all of those movies you watched growing up. Sore, swollen, hot to the touch.

Well, goddamn.

There goes your balance. Your eyes start to blur and you feel yourself fall. Only, you don’t. You can’t when you hear him drop the book to the floor and feel his cold body shoot up and against you to hold you up.

He says nothing at first as he looks down at you, and you couldn’t say anything if you wanted to. You look up at him in a daze, trying to focus, trying to think, but all you can process is the way he inhales again, deeply.

“You ran.” He whispers to you, studying your face and the way your body went from limp to almost holding up on its own in a shorter time than he expected. So strong, you are. Such a fighter.

He inhales again, seemingly drowning in the smell of you before rolling his eyes up and closing them just for a moment. Then, he groans before looking back down at you with eyes almost as dazed as yours.

“You didn’t run away, though.” He adds.

Even as he releases his hold on you, he smiles and inches his face closer and closer to yours. Almost as if he’s making an attempt to stare straight through you.

“I wouldn’t have stopped you, love.”

Your body feels weak as you soak in the truth of last night, your lips instinctively wanting to kiss him. No longer do you feel the need to run away, or to find Jungwon. You’re no longer afraid, even.

Words can’t explain how you feel right now.

“Why didn’t you leave?”

You have no answers for him when you hum out as a response. In fact, you’re not sure if you’ve ever had the ability to answer questions in the first place.

All you feel is euphoria as he continues to talk to you, sweetly smiling and lowering his voice to something that drips like thick syrup down the walls of your brain.

“I can trust you’ll be back then?” He hovers his lips over yours, watching you pucker them for him before backing away with another deep inhale of your scent. “Or would you rather I come pick you up from the vomit-covered sidewalk again?”

You find yourself laughing at that, smiling as you blink at him.

God, he’s so charming.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Sunghoon had shoo’d you away shortly after, and you managed to make it home in a daze of sunlight and uncanny admiration.

You’re not sure if you can ever feel normal again after that. In fact, you’re quite dissociated and disconnected to the world until you find Jungwon slumped at the entrance of your apartment, sound asleep.

Like a guiding light, his presence grounds you so fast that you feel more dizzy than you did in Sunghoon’s arms. Like your spirit is slammed back into your body and reality is hitting you again. You crouch down in a rush with light taps to Jungwon’s face, those bright eyes widening the moment he realizes that you’re here.

“Where were you?” He whispered drowsily, his dry throat forcing his voice to crack as he shifts his body comfortably against your door.

Immediately, your face is apologetic and your voice is soothing in repeated apologies.

“I’m sorry, Wonnie–” You hiccup, nearly wanting to cry. “I ended up going home with someone, I didn’t mean to leave you there alone.” You continue, pushing your hands under his arms and hoisting him up to stand. “I’m sorry.” You continue, and continue. “I should have left my keys with you, or–”

“Hey,” He whispers sweetly, finally standing on his own and stretching his arms out with an even drier sound. “It’s okay, you’re the one who missed out.”

You tilt your head in question as you reach for your shoulder bag, the one Sunghoon had tucked within his desk drawer, and pull out your keys.

“Oh?” You smile at his lack of care, but part of you kind of shatters at it.

What if you really needed help? How long would it have taken Jungwon to see the red flags? Then again, how long is it going to take for you to see the red flags?

“Oh yeah.” He nods to you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as you push open your door and push him inside. “Jay brought me here, he stayed for a little while, even offered to bring me back to his place.”

You’re a little jealous. You did miss out, it seems. Still, you feel…fond of what you went through last night. Despite the feeling of rot within you when you think about it. Knowing it’s weird. Strange. Unnatural.

A vampire? Really? Surely not.

“Why didn’t you go home with him?” You ask, making your way to your room right behind Jungwon, paying no mind to him as you undress and throw on a t-shirt. “Why’d you sleep at my door?”

Jungwon shrugs, now taking his own outfit off while rummaging through your closet for a shirt you probably got from an ex boyfriend.

“Well,” He looks at you now, really looks at you. “I’m fine if you wanna go home with people but I was a little worried, wanted to make sure you’d actually make it home.”

You pause as you dress yourself for a second sleep, feeling something in your chest flutter out of you at his worry. So he did see the color red.

Not as brightly as you did, but he still saw it.

“I really am sorry.” You furrow your brows as you watch him put that over-sized shirt on and lay on your bed. “I promise, I won’t do that again.”

“You’d better not.” He chuckles, blinking at you and waiting for you to come lay with him.

“Let me go get us some water first, I think we have a lot to sleep off.”

He nods happily to you, only one dimple peeking out at you when you turn to head for the kitchen.

And after that, it’s nice. Not much sleep happened though, mostly just a lot of water chugging and pillow talk before Jungwon shifts with a gasp.

“What the fuck is that?” He bolts up, hovering over you and practically pinning you to the bed as he forces your face to the side.

You know exactly what he’s looking at and explaining it isn’t the hardest thing in the world. After all, you were very drunk last night. So drunk that you’re sure you woke up today still drunk.

A vampire? Hah. There’s no way. You were right to think Sunghoon is just like, really goth. Embarrassingly so. Probably thinks he’s a vampire lord or something.

That pull in your chest? The inhales with no exhales?

It’s all an act and, well, you’re kinda into it if you’re being honest, being hunted and all. The dude is hot as hell, and you don’t mind exploring a little bit of his world.

“Well…” You trail off, lending your looming friend with the smeared eyes an embarrassed smile.

“Those look deep.” His voice drips in concern as he keeps your face turned. “Did it hurt?”

You feel his fingers touching the two puncture wounds. Gentle, warm fingers. They pulse at the touch and sting when he pulls them away to let you turn your face back to him.

“To be honest, I don’t remember feeling it.” You think he’d probably panic if you told the truth right now. About how you were clearly too drunk when it happened. About how you prayed to a man only for him to pierce your neck and drink you up like you did to the drinks just hours prior. You aren’t even sure if you had sex with the guy.

To you though, sober or not, you probably would have still left with Sunghoon last night. With that flawless skin and those dark eyes. Sober or not, if he’s into biting and blood, you’re into it too. More than willing to play his victim.

The fact that you were probably far too drunk at the time doesn’t bother you much because even now, with a grasp on reality, you’d like to think you’d let him do it again. If anything, just to feed your own curiosity.

“Wow, you really are into some freaky stuff–” Jungwon comments playfully, rolling back off of you and then taking a breath. “Make sure you clean them. Who knows where the mouth that did it has been.”

All smiles when you’re with Jungwon, honestly. So much comfort and concern, so much laughing and safety. If it weren’t for him, you honestly wouldn’t know how you’d be feeling right now. And it’s nice knowing that he opts to sleep over with you again. Seemingly preferring your apartment over the home he dropped a hefty wad of cash on for a two month stay.

The feeling of having a best friend swells inside of you with each passing day, and his presence here allows you to go to work and sleep through the night without much more thought to Sunghoon. You love this city and you love the little artist that found himself at your doorstep even more.

Hopefully he meant it when he said he’d come visit you all the time once his time here is over. Unlike you, who changed your mind the moment you saw Jungwon asleep at your door.

“I can trust you’ll be back then? Or would you rather I come pick you up from the vomit-covered sidewalk again?” Sunghoon had said to you. You remember it despite the state of your mind at the time, and you also remember nodding to him.

He seemed satisfied with your confirmation, yet since then you’ve felt no push or pull. No need to have him sucking on your neck or making you feel like he’s a demon wearing the skin of an angel.

Perhaps you’ll just need to be sure you don’t find yourself drunk and alone on the sidewalk again.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

By mid-week, Jungwon looks sad to know he needs to go back to his respective space for a little while. Not because he wants to, and not even because you want him to.

It’s simply because you need to be alone. You’ve always needed to be in your own space when this happens anyway.

Month after month after month. For years and years.

It never gets comfortable and you’ll never understand why you’re fated to hurt so badly every twenty two days.

Going to work is already difficult enough, bloated in your quirky outfits and smiling through the twisting knots in your gut. Having Jungwon in your space when you very nearly want to strangle every person who asks you how your day has been would only lead to more owed apologies.

“It’s not forever, Wonnie.” You genuinely smile through the pain at his narrowed eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Oh, I’m being dramatic?” He throws his arms up and motions at you. “You just told me you need a few days to bleed out on your kitchen floor.”

“Well, yeah...” You laugh and he frowns.

“I have a sister, you know.” He rolls his eyes. “Who’s gonna buy you snacks and bring you microwaved water bottles?”

“Jungwon.” You land your hands on his shoulders and force him to look at you. “I really just don’t like when people are around me when I'm on my period.”

He blows a strand of his hair up before pursing his lips, accepting the fact that maybe he’s a bit too clingy. Then again, you’re the only person in this city he knows and arguably the only person in this world he’s managed to grow so close with.

Given the fact that the two of you only met like, what? Two weeks ago? He should probably tone it down and not make an attempt to change your lifestyle just so he can sleep next to someone.

“Fine.” He huffs, frowning harder. “But if you need snacks or–”

“I’ll call you.” You shake his shoulders before forcing him into a bear hug. “Thanks though.”

And with that, you go your separate ways at the end of the work day and try to ignore how the pain medicine did close to nothing all day to help with the twisting in your abdomen.

Still, you’re relieved to know you can tough out the next few days in silence due to Jungwon backing you up on your false-sickness nonsense nearing the end of your shift.

“I feel like I’m coming down with a fever.” You whined to your boss, happy that the first day cold-sweats from your period makes it appear as just that. A fever.

“She’s been a bit out of it all day. If you need me to help out on the down-low while she’s recovering, I don’t mind.” Jungwon had added, smiling at your boss and not at all bothered by the unpaid work he’ll probably have to do for your sake.

A great friend he is. You’re lucky to have met him.

An amazing friend, really. For helping you find space for yourself in crowded clubs and within your own bed. For lending a hand at work and showing up every day for your shifts despite simply being an artist that’s presenting his work there. No where is he needed within that museum outside of, well, you.

And he’s always there. So for him to not be here now, when you’re making your way to your apartment door? It feels...wrong. Mostly because, as alone as you are when you walk inside and as silent as it is, you don’t entirely feel as alone like you once did here.

Still, you go about your nightly routine and fall into bed with those same cramps in your gut. It’s not long before you’re drifting off, pleased to know that at least when you’re sleeping, there’s no pain in your body.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

A strong scent wakes you, forcing your eyes open in the darkness of your room.

Familiar. Warm. Spicy.

Cinnamon.

A tug, just a little pull inside of you brings you to your feet as you wander through your apartment. Straight to the front door. Straight out of the front door.

“You know where I live?” You whisper drowsily, rubbing your eyes and walking straight into his grasp, ignoring the feeling of sticky blood leaking out of you just from getting out of bed alone.

“No.” Sunghoon speaks against your hair, rubbing your arms as he holds you against him.

“Oh.” You accept his answer with a nonchalant feeling inside of you. Who even cares how he ended up here?

“Come back with me?” He whispers, already taking a step back and smiling wickedly when you instantly follow, forcing your nose further against his chest and up to his neck. “I hear it dripping, love, come.”

And you do. All the way downstairs and into a car with heavily tinted windows.

You feel comfortable, safe.

The cramps in your belly are nowhere near as you slowly but surely come to your senses. Half-awake but feeling buzzed next to him. Still, you smile while keeping your nose planted up and against his neck even as he drives.

You like the sound of his little laughs each time he tries to push you back to your seat, and you like even more the way he mutters to himself through it when he relents and lets you do as you please. The short drive in the dead of night doesn’t offer much in terms of danger anyway.

And slowly still, your mind clears. Breaking out of the buzzed fog when he brings you through the cathedral

silently. Past the pale-eyed nuns with pursed smiling lips, past the windows and hallways.

No longer are you buzzed by the time you make it through those heavy doors of the extravagant room. The same one you prayed in. The same one you nearly fainted in. The same one you tried to forget.

“How do you feel?” He asks just moments after the doors close.

You can sense the slightest bit of hesitation in his voice when he asks you that, only now realizing that you’re in your pajamas and fucking staining them.

“What do you mean?” You ask, squeezing your legs together in an uncomfortable show of what’s happening between them.

“Are you awake?” He asks now, still slightly hesitant in front of you. You can almost see him hold himself back.

From something.

“As far as I know.” You tilt your head, glancing around the room. “Um, can I go to the bathro–”

“Can you read that clock?” He interrupts you and points to the candle-lit wall.

“Three thirty–” You pause, squinting to make sense of the exact minute. “three.”

He smiles at the fact that you’re entirely awake with him this time, despite the drowsy lure he had you in when he appeared at your door.

You’re here of your own free will, and you’re not running.

“Do you want to go home?”

You’re confused by the questions. As confused and drunk as you felt upon stumbling out your apartment door, you very much came here willingly. If anything, you’re just a little weirded out by the fact that you were paying such close attention to him that you missed the way blood seeped through your clothes.

“No?” You offer back to him before taking a deep breath. “Can you show me where the bathroom is though?”

And before you can even comprehend it, Sunghoon is right up against you. Looming and staring down as his hands rest on your shoulders before sliding down to your waist.

“Now, now.” He chuckles, lowering his face just an inch, resting his lips on your forehead. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Because I’m gross right now?” You laugh awkwardly, trying to take a step back but realizing that his grip on you tightens.

“Oh, have you forgotten?” He laughs out, lowering himself more, dragging his lips all the way down your face, neck, chest.

“Ah, wait–” You panic when you feel his nose against your stomach, threatening to go lower. “I’m like…” You’re embarrassed to say it now.

After all, you came here with the clear indication of fucking. Period or not, you’re not afraid of a little bit of blood but…this.

“Sunghoon, I’m on my period.” You finally speak into the room, trying to push his face from your stomach.

“I know.” He smiles, pressing his nose harder against your stomach. “Drove me crazy all day.” He dips his face down instantly, inhaling deeply between your legs.

Something inside of you is insanely turned on by his blatant interest in you.

“All day?” You ask, hands reaching for his hair as he drags his nose straight through the mess you’ve made.

“Could smell it, darling.” He laughs, pulling back and looking up at you. “Smells so sweet, not gross. Delicious.”

Why the fuck is the blood smeared against the tip of his nose so alluring? Jungwon was right, you really are into some freaky shit. Then again, it’s not so weird considering you’ve never done this before. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere when it comes to kinks, right?

“Can smell something else too.” He looks back between your legs, ignoring that you are trying to act like you don’t want to let him. “You’re aroused.”

Oh.

And just as you’re preparing for some sort of pressure between your thighs, you feel a waft of cold air rush up your body when he stands and grabs your face with both hands.

“You never came back.” He hisses against your lips, dragging you back and further into the room with him. “I had to sniff you out like a fucking dog.”

Your mouth falls open at the spiteful shift in his voice, following his movements all the way into the room until he’s spinning around and pushing you from his hold. You fall back against something insanely soft, and instantly you moan at the feeling of silk against you.

Barely able to catch your breath, he’s over you. He’s on you. Tucking his face into the crook of your neck with a low rumbled growl in his throat and inhaling over and over again.

Inhale. Inhale. Inhale.

And you can feel him nose his way all the way up to your face, opening his eyes and staring straight through you with slack lips just over yours.

You’re mesmerized by him at this moment. Never has a man acted this way with you and it’s insane to think you’d ever be satisfied with someone who wouldn’t. You almost strain your neck to kiss him, and you truly would have if it weren’t for the fact that you feel him sink his hand into your shorts.

Not even a second to truly comprehend how ice-cold his fingers feel when he slips them down and slides two of them into you. He watches your face when he does it, his own slack lips turning to a smile when you moan out at the smallest of pleasure he wants to offer you.

“Oh, look at you,” He coos, feeling your arms shoot around his shoulders when he continues to slide the digits in and out of you. “So sticky, what a pretty little mess.”

You groan in embarrassment at the act, knowing full well that you’ll have to face the fact that you like it at some point after he’s finished with you. You don’t mind admitting it so much now though. The way his fingers slide through the thick mess, forcing the scent of brass to mix with his own cinnamon aroma? To die for, truly.

“I could just eat you up–” He chokes in a whisper this time, struggling to maintain his composure from the sickening sweet smell of your blood. “Would you like that?”

You lift up instantly, kissing against his slackened smile. It’s one sided, as he simply lets you do it and nothing more. Mostly because he, himself, is spiraling into a frenzy of what he needs more than what you want. It’s all pleasure the same though, as he feels your tongue trace against one of his sharpened teeth.

Just a small bite. Just a taste.

“Ah–” You pull back in a wince, the flavor of blood hitting the back of your taste buds as you look up at him with confusion.

He doesn’t allow much looking though, as you hear that same rumble from his throat right up against your lips. You feel his tongue lick you up, slurping the blood straight from your new wound and moaning through the flavor of it.

His eyes flutter closed as he tries to hold down his thirst, knowing that his fingers are fucking dripping with this same sweet, red slick. It wouldn’t take much now for him to break and let it all drip down his throat. He could end this now if he’s not careful.

And when he opens his eyes again as he pulls back from your sweet tongue, he notes the look of confusion still on your face. His eyes roll in fond annoyance at you for that, only because you have this stubborn need to question despite having the clear answer bleeding from your mouth.

“You’re still trying to pretend you don’t realize?” He asks, whispering real close to your lips, darting his tongue out and offering a small kitten lick as he buries his fingers deep.

Your lips open for him in a moan and he licks into it again. Your still bleeding tongue only drives him further and further from a stable mindset. No one, not in hundreds of years, has tasted this fucking sweet. He almost can’t savor it with the way his body rises from slumber at the mere fucking scent of you from ten blocks away.

His cock pulses for the first time in decades for you. God, he feels more alive than he did when he was actually cycling blood through his veins.

“You just sliced open that pretty tongue on my teeth.” He chuckles, basking in the warmth he can only feel with you beneath him. “My fangs, love.” His fingers continue their slide all the while, the sounds of squelching blood filling his ears more than your soft groans for more. “Still, you seem to deny what this is and what I am.”

You can hear his words, but comprehending them isn't quite as easy. Like, yes, he’s got a vampire kink. Whatever.

“I get it, you’re kinky.” You huff out, missing the way he stifles a laugh at your denial of the truth.

“You’re a stubborn one–” He smiles, flashing the same fang that sliced through your tongue. “It’s a bit frustrating. Perhaps even endearing.”

And then, suddenly, his fingers come to a halt and he waits for you to look at him. Just as you go to speak, he’s sliding his fingers out of your mess so quickly, shushing you with his red stained digits.

“Now, listen.”

It’s silent. More silent than you ever thought the world could be.

“Do you hear it?”

You shake your head, feeling his fingers leave a trail of your blood against your lips as he drags them away and up to his own mouth.

There, he hangs his fingers from his mouth, licking gently and tasting thoughtfully before sliding them further in. He sucks them clean in an erotic show of his blood-lust before letting them fall from his still licking tongue. Then, he’s slotting them right back between your legs, wanting more to taste.

“No? You don’t hear how loud it is?” He asks now in a lower tone, still thirsty, still in need, dipping down to lick the blood from your face. “All that blood in you, bundled up right–” His fingers press hard against your clit. “Here.”

Your body jolts in pleasure, eyes rolling back at the mere sensitivity he forces your body into. God, kinky is right. He knows how to use words. His voice is so elegant while spewing the filth, so proper.

“Ahh, that feels good, doesn’t it?” He questions you in a moan that mimicked your own, now lowering himself from your face and kissing down your clothed chest. Down, down, down. “Do you think you’ll believe me when you feel the blood drain out of you?” His voice echoes in your ears, reminding you of the vampire-like thirst he’s trying to act upon.

And when he slips your shorts down your legs, you don’t even protest. Which at this point isn’t weird at all. The dude is insanely into it and you can’t help but feel like you can vibe with it if he keeps acting like this. He’s good at roleplaying.

Instead of an embarrassed protest, you respond to him by spreading your legs and presenting the red mess he’s smeared all over you. Inviting him.

He glances up at you as he watches, saying nothing, thinking nothing except for the fact that– you are perfect.

In every way, spread out and dripping blood, perfect.

You feel an intense jolt of pain shoot through your body just seconds later, followed by a loud and almost animalistic moan from the man between your legs. You lift slightly as you try to look down at him, witnessing the way he sucks the flesh of your thigh into his mouth, blood weeping from the new wounds his teeth create.

So much blood. He’s the one drunk now, utterly fucking mesmerized by the amount of it you pour for him. Your fleshy thighs offer the freshest, he couldn’t help but take a sip before giving you what your quivering body is truly begging for. He has to quench the genuine thirst before playing with his food, at least.

And as you watch him it’s like you’re nothing but a piece of meat at this moment. He’s sucking and sucking against your thigh until you’re sure your toes are numb. They’re tingling, and you can physically feel the blood being pulled from you. As if his teeth are two syringes seeping it out of you.

Af if they are. Not because they actually are, right?

And by the time your toes are effectively filled with static, he finally releases the fleshy bite on your thigh. You stare down, listening to him smack his lips and lick the corners of his mouth, seeing the way he doesn’t make eye contact with you at all before he’s turning his attention and burying his tongue into your crimson coated cunt. Without warning, but with so much eagerness with his tasting lips.

Your eyes flutter with a loud and strained gasp, eliciting a groan of his own to bubble into the blood that falls against his tongue with each passing pulse of you. He licks in time with your heartbeat, which is fucking insane that you can tell he does it. Never before now have you heard your heart beat so loudly, so frantically in your ears.

And you would be embarrassed, perhaps even worried that the taste is awful. Maybe it’s too much for him, maybe this kink is all just for show and this is a limit he’s only willing to try once before realizing himself that he doesn’t necessarily like drinking the blood from a woman’s pussy…except– Sunghoon gives you no reason to feel like any of that is true.

No, no. Oh no. He’s fucking relishing in it and you can tell by the way he moans and skews his head to dig his tongue deeper. You can tell by the way he smothers himself, not coming up for air for even a second of the time he’s spending down there.

And god, you can feel the mess of it all. Sticky, smearing all over your thighs when his fingers trace you mindlessly before gripping your thighs just to pull you down the bed, closer against his face, sliding his tongue ever deeper.

Moaning, fucking slurping it out of you without so much as a breath.

He’s not breathing.

And now? You panic, focusing more on the time he’s spending burying his mouth and nose into you than the feeling of it. Your hand shoots down into his hair, pulling his head back and away from you.

Then your breath is caught in your throat at the sharp image. His eyes blown out, widened at you. Nose, cheeks, chin, tongue all glistening with sticky crimson slick, and a smile.

He smiles at you.

At least before his tongue is clicking and he’s poking it into the side of his cheek before reaching back, grabbing your hand, and shoving it out of his hair before sinking his face right back between your legs. As if to show you that he was annoyed by that.

You don’t get to think about it though, because this time he’s licking you more frantically than he already was. Fast tongue flicking and fucking you, his teeth dragging against your pussy lips, refusing to let you believe that he wants to breathe fresh air right now.

Your hands find purchase in his hair yet again though, and you feel him grip your legs and stiffen his shoulders to keep his head in place just in case you try to pull him from you again. You hear the deep growl. You feel it rumble against you as if to warn you to keep your hands to yourself if you’re not going to let him do exactly what he said he would fucking do.

So, you don’t pull him away. Instead, you play in his hair with your weak hands. Twisting and twirling strands of it between your fingers until he’s pulling his tongue back on his own.

A shock to you, truly, that he does it at all. But you guess it makes sense when you feel another sharp pain in your thigh, right below the preview bite he had given you.

Just when you were gaining feeling back in your toes too.

And he goes back and forth like that for a while, until his face is utterly soaked in diluted blood and pussy-slick. Until he needs to look at it pulse, and watch how beautiful you still, fucking still, have more to pour out for him.

He’s amazed, really. Never has he served himself a woman that’s openly bleeding for him like this. After all, he prefers to drink his dinner from the carotid artery and be done with it. He was far more creative back in the day though, you know, when his cock still worked.

Most of his sexual pleasure came from drinking alone. Never getting hard but always reaching climax in one way or another when he gets that last, delicious drop of blood from his victims. But now? Oh, now. You’ve stirred his arousal back to life. Not from pure hunger, but lust.

It’s been so long that he’s lusted. So, so fucking long since he’s cared enough to fuck his prey or give in to the temptation of menstrual blood. In fact, he can’t even recall ever allowing his victims to fall away from the drowsy lure he puts them in. Many of them didn’t know what was happening to them before death and he preferred it that way.

Until you. An average looking commoner with insane fucking blood. Devilish blood. Divine, demonic, angelic, fucking celestial tasting blood.

After all this time, he’s had beautiful face after beautiful face. He’s had men, women, celebrities, false-prophets, and even purely divine bodies.. But you…oh no, he can’t simply kill you like those utter throw-aways.

There was a reason he didn’t end you the first night. Something in him caught fire on the taste of your drunken blood. The alcohol you had ran through his veins along with a taste he’s never once fathomed existing. It was the first time in hundreds of years where he forced himself to let you walk out of his quarters.

Blood with no comparison. So thick, so sweet, so…damning. How could he have just killed you there? How could he pretend like it’s not addicting? Like he didn’t want you to continue producing more and more of it, all for him to drink up?

Of course he wants all of it. He wants to drain you to your last fucking drop, but then he’d never taste it again. Not in thousands of years, at least. So now, as his cock pulses awake and your heavy flow only produces more and more for his hungry mouth to lick up– fuck.

It’s been so long since he’s felt something for a victim like this, and even longer since he’s wanted to use his cock. No, needing to use it. It feels almost foreign to him now after so many centuries, to fuck and eat at the same time. To indulge in all the pleasure, and not just the one that keeps him alive. To want you to feel the pleasure too, to need you to want him without the false sleep forcing it.

You.

You’re the one. You’re the one he’s going to keep. For as long as you’ll let him, and when you stop letting him, he’ll have no choice but to lure you again. Forever. All for him.

“Love,” He rasps out, staring at the way your pussy shines so prettily in front of him, the pulse drawing him to near starvation despite being drenched in his meal. “Never have I wanted to fuck before I–”

Kill, is the word he almost used. It’s instinctual, but instead he releases a moan from his throat at the mere thought ignoring that instinct. Drinking, sipping. Forever just a fucking appetizer and never the full meal. He can settle. He will settle.

Never. Truly never has he wanted to stop himself from drinking just to fuck and he needs you to know that. The feeling is too erotic for even him to comprehend right now, meshing with his hunger and making him feel –-

Gods be damned, he could kill you.

He should kill you. Given the fact that he has never let a meal leave this room without being drained entirely. Never while they’re awake and fully aware anyway. Insanity. You’ve made him go insane, losing his wits enough to treat you as something more than a victim.

Despite hunting you as one. Despite never having to hunt anyone like he has you. Wanting you to be here willingly. Wanting you to love the feeling of his thirst. Wanting you to learn how good the drain feels. Wanting you to know what he is and needing you to love it.

Needing you to stay alive.

Insane.

He’s fucking losing it.

He knows that if he can never smell this scent again, if he can never taste it, or have your fingers in his hair, if he can never want to fuck again? Oh, he’d crumble.

He’d take a walk at noon.

You’re not dying tonight. In fact, never shall you feel the cold slab of a morgue freezer if he has anything to do with it. No blood wasted when it comes time for you, and no life truly lost either.

If just for the sex. If just to quench a never ending thirst.

If just to live in insanity.

“Before you–” You release in a breath that he chases. As if craving the life under him like an animal. “Before you, what?”

“Kill.” He whispers as he swallows each breath of yours, tasting the sweet sleep that you once held in your body. His own eyes feeling drowsy as if you have your own lure on him now.

Even the panicked gasp you release at his choice of word there, he swallows it, kissing you hard in a drowsy groan and smearing the blood all through the kiss, letting your breath rumble out of his mouth as if the moan were from his own lungs.

“So vacuous.” He chuckles now, feeling the pleasure of his cock jolt through his body. He presses himself between your legs, relishing in the sticky blood seeping straight through his sleep pants. “Do you feel that?” He continues, rutting against you as if he’s a virgin of all that he’s experiencing right now, licking each smear of blood from your cheeks and chin.

“Ah, Sunghoon,” You groan, but you try to be serious in your tone. Feeling the orgasm that once was bubbling up settle back in your stomach. “You’re making a mess.”

“Mm, I am.” He mutters mindlessly, pressing harder against you now as the taste settles in his throat. “Love, tell me. You feel it?”

Of course you fucking feel it.

The nod you lend pleases him, knowing that it’s not just his imagination. Finally, he can feel the warmth of a living being wrapped around him. Finally, he doesn’t feel so cold.

“You can’t fathom what it is that you do to me,” He continues his sweet talk, running his lips down to your neck, leaving trails of that blood all the way before immediately piercing his teeth into the same wounds he left on you already. He feels your pulse against his teeth when he sucks and only groans weaker against you as he ruts.

“Ah–” You wince in pain again, feeling the wound reopen with a cold and sharp prick. The pain ignites something inside of you to press your hips up, sliding yourself against his red-drenched pants.

He chuckles into his bite at your willingness, his hands reaching straight down to shove his pants down in one movement. Euphoria runs through him at the feeling of your warm blood against him when he presses back against you.

Really, the feeling alone paired with the taste of your fresh blood yet again only drives him to keep going. After all, he has all the time in the world. His intention to keep you here only lends him the ability to press his length straight into that bloody, sopping wet hole of yours. The one pulsing for him, the one that lends his favorite smell, taste, and feeling in the world.

His teeth are forced to retract when he throws his head back at the sensation of sinking deep into your cunt, one fluid motion reminding him of how much he loved this feeling before. How often he’d fuck, and fuck, and fuck until suddenly, he just– couldnt.

You’ve ignited so much life within him, even while doing nothing more than lying here bleeding. No longer does he feel bored with the world considering he’s managed to find you in it. He could possibly even love you if you let him.

Especially with the way you react nearly the same as he does. As if you haven’t fucked before. As if you’ve never mixed scents with another being before ever coming to this city to chase your own demise. The little sounds you make could be so much more than what you think they are.

They’re so similar to the ones you make when he bites, when he sucks, oh, so so similar. So deeply seeped in pleasure, pain, hesitation.

“Darling, are you afraid?” Sunghoon manages to say as he feels himself warm from inside of your tense body. “Do you believe me now? Do you understand now?”

You frantically shake your head at the tear of his cock spreading your walls open around it. That one slide rendering you near faint considering the amount of blood he’s taken from you already. The feeling of…ice. It’s in you, running from your veins all throughout your body. So, so, fucking cold.

No, no, no. No living being on this earth could feel this hard inside of you while being this…oh. His hands have been cold on you too. Always. His scalp under your fingernails as you scratched. His lips, his tongue, all of it was freezing until your blood was coating him. Everything about him is ice.

Still, you shake your head through the pleasure, cock warming him both literally and unintentionally. He just sits inside of you, feeling the beat of your heart gush that same blood past his length and out of you. Your eyes slightly open to look at him, afraid of what you’ll see.

He’s smiling. His eyes are…brighter.

“C–cold.” You manage to stutter out, nearly feeling brain freeze from the way he pulls his hips back and plunges into you again, warm blood splashing out and against his pelvis, coating your thighs more. And oh, that bite on your thigh, it’s dripping again.

“So cold, yes?” He chuckles when he dips down, moving his hips steadily in and out of your sticky mess. No longer thirsty, just…aroused. “Do you understand?”

You frantically shake your head again, grabbing onto him from over his shirt. You’re panicking inside, your fingers gripping so tight, trying to find heat. Needing heat.

How did you not think about this more? It took this to recognize that he never warms? And he’s smiling at your panic?

God, but it feels so, so fucking good.

“Love,” He coos at your panic, pistoning his hips easily with the slide, bringing both of his hands to your face and forcing you to look at him. “I’m dead.”

Ah.

So he is.

Yet, the feeling of him inside of you feels better than you’ve ever had. The way his hands hold your face, the way his eyes blow out for you, the way his entire face is tinted in red. He’s so alive yet…

Entirely dead.

“You’re afraid?” He asks through his own forgotten pleasure, wanting you to stay but entirely willing to put you to sleep so this doesn’t have to end.

“Sunghoon,” You interrupt any words he’s about to give you, opting to continue fighting the truth when you note the softer tone of voice he uses despite the quickening pace of his hips. “Harder.”

Oh, the fire within burns colder than it ever has at those words. He doesn't even need to pull you? You don’t want to pretend this isn’t happening? You’re accepting him?

If you want him to go harder, he’ll make you feel like no other. Harder he goes, using all of his pent up frustration of not being able to drain you fucking dead, all of his strength, all of everything he’s missed out for the past centuries– all of it. It’s behind his thrusts now as he slams into you. The blood that splatters out only makes the moment all the more grand to him.

Breaths leave you with each slam, the sticky sound from below being drowned out by the sheer sound your heart rate in your ear. You’re still panicking, but you can’t help but want more. After all, surely what’s left for you after he’s done is….no, it’s not real.

He feels the fear pulse around his cock and moans out at it, the squeeze so tight, the gush so delicious. This entire room smells of you, and he wants it to be fucking drenched in you. The fear inside of you right now only intensifies the pleasure, and he knows he should be calming you through it, he knows he should tell you that you’re making out of this alive, but–

The way the heart beats so frantically when one is terrified. You’re dripping with fear, the smell of your blood intensifies with each petrifying pulse squeezing his cock to the point he feels his own heart make an attempt to pulse. Your life runs through him entirely out of fear that you’ll lose it.

He can’t tell you, not when your body reacts so flawlessly. Exactly how it’s supposed to react. So delicious is that fear, he wonders if it makes your blood taste any hotter. He dips down, sinking his teeth into your neck once again and confirms his suspicions. It does taste hotter, sweeter, and it pumps itself so beautifully against his eager fangs. Almost as if you truly bleed for him, because he’s not even needing to suck for it at this point.

It just drips, and pours, and bubbles out all for him to swallow up.

You push through it though, the pain is so good, and if this is what it’s like to die, perhaps you’ve found yourself in a lucky position. At least you’re not being ripped to pieces by a stranger, or crushed beneath your own car on a highway. At least this way, you’re being held and seemingly adored.

And the fear, excitement, and pure adrenaline in your body forces it out of you. A rush of heat slamming Sunghoon right in his gut when you convulse under him. Legs shaking as you moan out both in disbelief and intense ecstasy. The blood tastes even sweeter now for him, so sweet that he has to pull back in a guttural and demonic growl.

It’s been so, so long since he’s felt a woman cum around him. His own body reacts in an instant, releasing his own thick secretion into you as you shake through it. Sweating, panting, drooling, crying, bleeding. All for him.

And the explosion behind his eyes is a reminder to keep you alive. He forces himself to keep the inhale from happening as he plunges into you one last time, coating the inside of your bloody walls with a flurry of freezing ropes. Amazed at the feeling he has long forgotten, his body shakes through it and renders him near psychotic for the release.

You continue to shake with him, shivering at how the man makes you feel as if you’ve been lying in snow for days, but you keep your eyes closed.

You’re terrified of him, of this, of the truth hitting you square between the eyes as if it wasn’t obvious all along. Fantasies, legends, fairy tales. How many of them are based in reality?

You know what’s coming now, based on those same stories.

The last bite, the drain, fuzzy images, death.

And you embrace for it, trying to relish in the post-orgasm bliss before it happens because you know there’s no way to run from him. If he’s truly what he says he is, there’s no chance in this world that you can stop him. You’re going to die, and the strange way in which your brain accepts the inevitable is more calming than petrifying.

You never knew you’d be able to prepare for it like this, but here you are. Waiting for it. Accepting it. And when you feel the air of his body shift down to you, right up against your neck, you squeeze your eyes shut and hold your breath.

His cold hand tilts your face and all you can do is anticipate as you feel his teeth graze the abused and swollen marks there.

Here it is.

You inhale deeply, hoping that if there’s an afterlife, this last breath will be a good memory for you until–

A kiss.

He kisses the wounds. He licks them. He nuzzles his cold nose against them, and then he pulls out of you and lays directly on top of you.

It’s silent as you lay here, still trying to prepare to fucking die and he’s just prolonging it?

“Get it over with.” You gripe, frustration dripping out in your weak voice.

It’s laughable, really, that you’ll sound so argumentative and petty over the loss of your life. So laughable that even he’s chuckling about it, right against your ear with no breath fanning against your skin.

“Get what over with, darling?” He asks, not having felt this drowsy drained state in so long.

Your mind is racing though, seemingly trying to think of everything that has ever happened in your life onto everything you wish still could happen, only to consistently land on the fact that you don’t want to believe what’s happening.

You know very well the denial you’re forcing yourself into, even in the face of demise, you don’t want to believe any of this.

“I still can’t believe that you’re— No,” You dead-pan before taking in a terrified breath, still keeping your eyes closed. “They’re not real.”

“I’m very, very real.” Sunghoon argues back, infatuated with the denial you try to keep. “You know that I am.”

“So, you have to kill me then?” Your voice gets smaller as you accept the truth little by little, your breath shakier. “Fucking get it over with then, stop trying to savor it, it’s not like I can run now, right?”

You still like the way he laughs, so breathy despite having no breath of his own. And through that laugh, he lends another kiss before you feel all of that weight lift from you and dip onto the bed next to you instead.

“Don’t beg for it.” Sunghoon warns, pulling away from you and forcing his instinct to remember the release of the orgasm he just had. “I won’t be able to stop myself if you ask me so prettily.”

You pause, your eyes opening against your will as you look at him. He’s facing away from you, but you can see the damp blood drying in the strands of his hair. Your eyes trail down, a puddle of blood staining nearly the entire lower half of the bed and it’s still dripping out of you.

Or perhaps, that’s whatever it is he fucking shoved into you and fucked out of himself.

“None of this is happening.” You say to yourself. “I did not just fuck a vampire.”

“You’re right.” He comments with another laugh. “A vampire just fucked you.”

Well. You’re still not ready to believe that. Even with the absence of heat, even with the lack of breathing.

“Prove it.” You ask, unsure as to why you’re wanting it both to be real and just a dream.

You back away when he immediately does as he’s asked. Turning to you and crawling over you. There, he lowers his body, chest to your cheek.

“Listen.” He says, reaching to hold your face and press it up and against his chest. “Anything?”

You wait, listening for a thump, anything to prove he’s wrong. Fucking any sound at all to blow his cover.

You’re frozen as you listen, your body going into fight or flight as the seconds turn to minutes. Unfortunately, your body is not a fighter, nor a flier. You’re stuck with his hand on your cheek, holding you so tightly against something you wish was alive.

A little thump, thump, thump could be the most relieving sound to you, but no. There’s nothing.

You pull away from him now, body still frozen but head running a mile a minute. How many proofs does he need to provide for you to understand that it’s not fantasy?

And finally, you feel your body jerk away from him on its own. He’s startled by the movement and you use that short second to roll off of the bed. You do your best to stand, but your brain immediately pulses in pain. Your vision goes fuzzy, dizzy.

Right, you’ve lost a lot of blood tonight. To think your toes aren’t still numb, to think you’d be able to stand without dropping to the ground.

“Thousands of years.” Sunghoon stands quickly, stalking over you and wrapping his arms around you. There, he presses you back on the bed and straddles your hips. “I’ve never told another soul and let them live to remember it– until you.”

You shake under him, the weight feeling more dead now than it ever has. He’s heavy as he holds you down, but somehow his grip on you is gentle. His voice is soft. His eyes are hesitant. He’s not holding you here to hurt you, it seems.

“My love, I told you time and time again,” He glances away from you, feeling something within him shrivel at the thought that now you’re unwilling. “Is it different now? To find that I’ve told no lies to you?”

Still, he soothes you as you try to comprehend reality. You think hard through the dizzy fog of blood-loss, running more with your mind than your body. He did tell you. And you’re still alive. He just drank and drank from you, and you’re still alive.

He came to your apartment, he told you he smelled you.

He’s never lied.

You just refused to listen.

He drank you, he fucked you, he held you, and now he’s holding you.

“I don’t want you to fear me.” Sunghoon admits with sad eyes, trying to ignore how long it’s been since he’s felt sad at all.

So many emotions you force him to feel, this was not one he was looking forward to.

“How can I not be afraid?” You breathe out in slurred speech, as if to mock him, because you now know that he truly can’t do it himself.

“It’s too late to be afraid.” He says apologetically. “You’d have died weeks ago had I wanted it.”

Why are you still falling in love with his voice? With his stupid grammar, and his horrifying dead-skin? Even with the fear in your stomach, why does this make your heart flutter?

“I’ve never felt so full,” He admits now, releasing his grip on you slowly. He can smell your heart slow, knowing you’re starting to calm now. “Until now.”

You stare up at him as your eyes recover back to clear vision, in awe of how gentle a killer is being with you. Inspecting the way he’s drenched in your blood, yet you truly still are breathing. He could have killed you time and time again.

But he didn’t.

He’s never once lied to you about what he is, and still you struggle to believe what he says. Even when his words match his actions. Sure, he’s a vampire, but he’s not going to kill you?

What reason do you have to believe him save for the blatant truth behind it? Do you want to believe him? Would you rather be dead?

He knows you can’t fathom the truth so quickly though, and that’s why he’s being gentle. He has nothing more than patience to give to you, if it’ll end in your acceptance anyway. The fact that he can hear your heart beating correctly again only gives him hope that he’s right about not having killed you on the first night.

After all, he truly hasn’t lied to you. Never has he felt full, even after killing several a night. Always hungry, always thirsty, always needing more and more of the syrupy life strangers offer to him under his lure. But you. Entirely aware, flowing with blood that drives him crazy…you’ve managed to fill that desire in him.

Why should he lie to you? Why would he kill you if there is no need? Despite fighting the instinct, he’s satiated by you. His cold body warms with yours. He will never get enough of you, so how on earth could he just…take that away from himself?

And you do stop fighting. In fact, you lay with him in a bloodied mess and sleep. Despite wanting to ask questions, wondering if he can even sleep at all. Your body is tired, your mind is still petrified, and your hands still cling to the source of it, unsure if you’ll make it to morning at all.

Still, somehow, this feels holy.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

PART TWO

#enhypen smut #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut

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cinnabeat · 1 year

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oh my god i just rememebered the insane dream i had last night

#i was uhh enrolled in a new school? transfer student #id i just very vividly remember trying to figure out wherr my homeroom was and trying to find my class list and then a map pdf of the school #but the one i found was the wrong school and a lot of time spent trying to remember the name ofhe school i fucking go to and my mind kept gi #giving me like mashed uo cersions of the hs in my district but i knew in my gut it was wrong like i thi k i was too lucid and couldnt suspen #suspend my disbelief enough lmao but anyways it was fucking huge and in a forest and im not entirely sure it wasnt a boarding school but any #anyways my family went with me bc it was new and/or fancy and they wanted to givr me support and my dad and little brother were eith me and #and there was?? construction going on?? a machine truck tractor thing was making a trench and lava was flowing through it and my little brot #brother went to investigate like the dumbass he is and the lava was flowing and he didnt move out of the way and it like touched his legs #and obviously they got sizzled so we had to take him to the nurse and something something meeting with orincipal and other?? students??#felt like a fucjing anime plot but yeah then the orincipal sent us to find out classes and i spent all fucking day trying to findmy fucking #buklding bc the numbers were weird hionestly felt like a college campus but more woodsy and anyways i walked past this plaza thingy like a b #a bagillion times bc its the main and center area and there was a vig group and the classroom number was 368 or whatever the fuck the 3 is i #is important tho and it was kinesiology ir pe for normal people #and i walked past them and eventually i was like fuck it ill ask and i asked where the class was and the teacher was like right here :) and #i hesitated and i was like just to be clear this is pe and she was like yeah and boom i FINALLY found my class some rules were given and drm #drama spilled and then it was evening i had to get home my dorm whatever nebulous place of residence and i distinctly temember parking doen #down the stair s in the plaza earlier so i went up the stairslike a normal human veing and i wandered around trying to find something and i #i woke up #to be clear it was evening either bc pe/homeroom for the first day took up so much fucking time or i wasted so much fucking time searching #anyways i cannot fucking believe i temembered all that #i have no idea what this could mean #im remembering too many of my dreams lately make it stop #michi tag

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jzmn8r · 2 years

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I can now drive on the road without fear so watch out fellow legal drivers I am coming

#at very legal speeds I might add #no but like I drove home from the local elementary school #and like crossed a busy road #I’m so cool #i practiced driving in the community college parking lot #(it’s been a mix of there and my dad took me to the local mental hospital to practice?)#and then she drove us to the elementary school #and I drove from the parking lot there to the connecting parking lot of a shopping center #and she just told me to keep driving #and like #AT LEAST PREP ME #but I did it <3 #no curbs busses other cars OR people were harmed #nor any animals #safe to say I’ve only hit one curb and that was last weekend when I parked too close #still haven’t parked near a curb (wait like my dad made me park by the curb at the mental hospital)#bruh that parking lot was so nerve wracking there were like 15 geese ALL judging md

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doublescribble · 7 months

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Satou Sabally and Kelsey Plum

#Satou Sabally #Kelsey Plum #basketball #sports #wnba #wnba basketball #dallas wings #las vegas aces #college park center #michelob ultra arena #illustration #illustrators #illustrators on tumblr #art #artists on tumblr

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caxde · 1 month

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bright eyes | eddie munson x reader

summary you're a new neighbour in the trailer park, your's an Eddie's relationship takes a new turn, while navigating life with her little girl (4.3k)

warnings fem!reader, girl!dad Eddie!!!!, fluff, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn strangers to lovers, idiots in love!!!, , english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read!

a/n: the support has been insane, so enjoy part2 <3 part 1 part 3 (they can be read seperatly)

“Munson! There’s a girl here asking for you.”

The raspy voice of his college snapped him back to reality. He had been working on the same bike for a while now, and had become unaware of everything else that was happening around him.

But if there was a girl to see him, it could only be you, or maybe Robin.

He really hoped it’d be you.

Heads followed him as he crossed the dusty garage floor as he found his way to the opened mechanical door. Lucky for him, you were anxiously waiting there, your hands playing with the hem of your sweater.

You had been lucky, if you actually think about it. You had left the café you started working at a few weeks ago, so you could go to the trailer park and get some sleep. This last weekend the logistic center that was 30 minutes away had called you, begging you to take the night shift since some of their employees were on vacation. You accepted, since they offered to pay you extra, and in cash. The downside was that the sleep you had lost didn’t seem to come back, and your car had been making a strange sound since then.

Now your car refused to turn right, and if it did it took way too much strength.

You avoided spending more than you had to, but it looked like it was finally time. Thank god Eddie works here, you kept thinking as you found your way to the mechanic.

“Hi.” Your voice was lower, barely holding yourself together.

“Hi princess.” He tried to cheer you up, a big smile on his face and his affectionate pet name he had only for you. “What a nice surprise.” He kept walking towards you, cutting the distance until you were a step away from each other.

“I wish it was a surprise.” The way your eyebrow furrowed let him know that you were a bit too anxious, a bit too nervous with the situation. “I need your help.” You added as your palm covered your face for a moment, trying to wipe away the panic.

“Whatever you need, princess.” And maybe it was his sweet tone, maybe it was the nickname or maybe it was the way his hand held your arm, in a supportive and soft way, that let you finally relax.

You walked with him to your car, while you told him what was going on. He just nodded and let you talk, knowing that that was just what you needed.

“It just sucks, I don’t know how I’m gonna get to work now.” You kept speaking as he popped the hood up of your car, and he kept looking at the engine, and everything that crept deep into it, what everything did you had no idea. Eddie was used to people talking while he worked, but oddly enough it made him feel more important, when you were the one doing it.

“I could drive you.” He replays. His body stood up from being bent over. He was tying his hair up, and you had lost any and every train of thought you had. You had never seen someone look as pretty with a ponytail, even when they were covered in car grease. Black stains in contrast with his white muscle top, decoration his arms in places tattoos didn’t. “I don’t mind, as long as you’re okay with carpooling with Lua.” Eddie’s nervous smile came back, an upside down grin while his eyebrows raised, eyes locked with yours.

“I’d love that.”

Breakfast was Lua’s favourite.

A piece of toast with some sweet jam, a cup of warm milk, and some cut up fruit.

Eddie let her eat it wherever she felt like, time proved that was the better option. She usually preferred to eat it sitting down on the kitchen counter, while Eddie sat on the stools, eyes on the same level. He usually ate the rest of the fruit that he didn’t give to her, while he downed his black coffee. Though if he was honest, he had never cracked how to brew a good cup.

Lua would babble whatever she had on her mind, she was chattier in the mornings, unlucky for her, Eddie was not a morning person, his energy drained from another poor night’s sleep.

Everytime he thought about it, it made him laugh. Before her little girl came into his life, he’d sleep until way past noon, usually skipping school, having a cigarette and a coffee -if anything- for breakfast, without a job - a legal one- and with no real reason to do anything with his life.

Maybe that’s why he cares so much about her, her little light, his reason to keep going, and be better.

While he looked at her, the world seemed to quiet down for a moment, and everything was fine.

Three knocks at the door, and he already knew you were on the other side of it.

“Morning.” Amusement in his voice, in a hush tone. His dippels appeared, as his smile grew wider, they way your hair fell, in a tangled mess, being the reason for it. He was just happy to see you, though he wasn’t going to admit it. Not yet.

“Hi.” Your voice came out raspy and hoarse. You hadn’t talked to anyone yet, and it made him chuckle even more. He moved his body out of the door frame, letting you plenty of room to walk through. “Coffee?”

“Already done.” He muttered back, pointing with his head where the mug in his kitchen was.

You felt your face relax as soon as you saw Lua enjoying her breakfast, quietly. Your eyes closed when your earnest smile came, once her voice rang with excitement as she said your name, as her hands moved through the air.

“Hi dude!” You matched her energy, the momentary excitement winning the battle for your remaining energy.

Lua gave you a high five, which you celebrated with a funny face that made her laugh. She offered you a piece of fruit that you accepted in a way too exaggerated manner, that only made her giggles multiply. Unbenoughts to you, Eddie was watching attentively.

He was memorizing the way your hair fell on your back, and the way it swayed everytime you moved. The way you fitted in your dark washed jeans, the little red shirt from the café hugged your waist and he suddenly had the wish to place his hand there. He didn’t do it.

Instead he handed you a mug with watered down coffee, that you accepted. He grinned at the way your nose scrunched once you took the first sip of it.

“Yeah, I’m not the best coffee maker.” He confessed while he suppressed a laugh.

“Clearly.” You answered in a joking manner, it wasn’t bad, you just weren’t used to black strong coffee, not the way he was. “I’m making you breakfast tomorrow.”

You meant it. He knew, so he accepted with a nod and another smile.

“Wayne’s sleeping, so we try to not wake him up. It’s difficult when little miss sunshine has all the energy in the world.” He explained while looking at Lua, her beaming smile and giggles made him light up, his thumb cleaning her cheek that had some purple jam on it.

“There’s no one else in my trailer, she can be as chatty as she wants there.” Lua understood that, as soon as she realised what you were talking about she started to clap and cheer, a soft chuckle escaping from your lips.

Eddie could hear that symphony for the rest of his days, he thought.

It became a new way to start your days.

You’d brew some coffee, and prepare an extra mug for Wayne, that Eddie left on the counter of his kitchen before you left for work.

You’d actually cook, eating something in the early hours for once, a new habit you never had before.

Lua always knocked on your door whenever they were ready, the little sound on your door followed by her sweet hi, as her arms swanged up in the air. She was becoming more and more comfortable with you, letting you hold her. She even gave you a thank you kiss on the cheek once.

Today you had some pancake batter sizzling in the pan, orange juice for her, milky tea for you.

“Dada?”

“Yes?” Eddie raised his eyebrow as he took his first sip, his voice softening at her.

“Music?” She answered with another question.

“Ah, yes. The beautiful melody that connects us all together.” He babeled, in that voice he used when he was talking as what he was saying was written in an antique book. He tended to do it more when he knew you would smile.

He took two cassettes out of his back pocket, letting her choose. He wished she’d actually choose the mix he finished last night, but as always, she picked the one that had a drawing she did as a cover.

He nodded and walked to your radio.

It hit him in that moment, just how tangled your lives were becoming. He knew where (almost) everything in your home was, and the same was starting to happen for you. He knew that you kept honey in a reused jar, because Mr.Felix gave you local honey from a friend in the first cupboard to the right. He knew you had extra plasters in the second drawer of your bathroom because you had a tendency to cut yourself when you used a knife when you had to chop something up. He knew that the drawings on your wall were painted by you, but that the one that hung over the orange lamp was gifted to you by a kid you took care of when you worked in a hotel two years ago. He also knew that you knew where Lua likes to put her toys away, under the table of his living room. You knew that the only way she had to eat vegetables was if they couldn’t be seen. You knew that Eddie liked to have it all under his ‘controled mess’ as you called it.

In just a few weeks you had become such an important person that he was scared of you leaving. Which people had a tendency to do in his life.

Now he couldn’t only care about his life, he had to care about Lua’s too, and he had been trying to talk to you about it. But everytime he summoned up the courage to do so, you’d look at him with your pretty doe eyes and everything he had wanted to say left, he could only focus on how pretty you always look.

You focused on other things. Silly, non important things.

Like how his tongue went over his upper lip every time he concentrated to fasten Lua’s seatbelt. Or how he played with his rings when he was deep in thought, whatever it was, his thumb played with the middle one, while his left hand focused on the one in his index finger. Or how when he had a clear idea, and had to start working on something, he’d tie his hair up in a lazy ponytail, his thick neck exposed. Or how he rotated his shoulders when he sat down on the driver's seat at the end of the day, half exhausted, half excited to go back to his home.

You walked to the car shop at around eight, as you always did. Knowing that he’d already be waiting for you outside. Since Lua was back in the house, Wayne coming to pick her up as soon as he wakes up, he always enjoyed that small frame of time to actually smoke a cigarette, his little moment, all for himself.

Before he met you, he’d spend this moment thinking about what he needed to do, what he needed to buy, or what Lua wanted for dinner. Now, the only thought was you. You and your sweet voice, you and your angelic laughter, you and your soft skin. You, everytime you called his name.

“Hey princess.” His pet name had also become a familiar sensation. Your heart still races a bit when it hears it, nevertheless.

“Hey moon.” Eddie wasn’t sure if it was the earnestness of your tone, or the new nickname, but he felt his heart jump around his chest, and his cheeks changing colour, a pretty pink flush taking over them.

“Should we go?” He added, happiness crystal clear, not only by his higher tone, but by his overall demeanor.

“Please. I’m so tired, I think I’ll go straight to bed.” You let out in a whisper, rubbing your face in an attempt to wake up, so you wouldn’t fall asleep on the drive back to the trailer park.

“You should eat something first.” It was his way of showing you he cared, making sure you were taking care of yourself half as well as you took care of others.

“I know, I just really hate cooking for myself. It's boring, and then you have to clean it, and do it all again…”

“You make breakfast for us everyday,” He pointed out, his eyebrow raised in synchrony with his pitch, as he opened the passenger door so you’d climb in.

“Yeah, but that’s different. It’s mostly for you.” You stop as you wait for him to sit on the driver sit, taking the time to make sure your seat belt is fastened. Looking at the backseat, a new habit you had developed thanks to him and his baby. “I didn’t eat breakfast before you guys came.” You admit, and he knows you’re not lying. You never do when your eyes shine that bright. You also know he is a bit worried, a frown appearing on his forehead. “I’m okay, moon.”

“Hey, it’s not fair that you use the nickname to your advantage.” He points out, his index finger raising to the air as he speaks, his car engine starting, heading home.

“Sorry?” You jokingly ask. Knowing that everything’s fine by the way he laughs it off.

“Then, we’ll come over and cook you dinner.”

“Tonight?”

“If that’s okay.” His tone showed a bit of concern now. Maybe he was pushing it a bit too much. He was just excited to spend time with you, so he tried to grab every opportunity he had to do so.

“Yeah, I just… My fridge’s a bit empty. We should stop by the shop.” You were embarrassed.

It was stupid. Or at least it felt stupid. Being embarrassed about it. But the only actual thing you had been buying was dedicated to the breakfast you shared together, once you were home by yourself, you usually had a soup, frozen pizza or a simple grilled cheese sandwich. You really didn't care that much, you just ate if and when you were actually hungry.

And it wasn’t that often, if you were honest.

Eddie knew. He had a tendency to be over observant, and he had noticed, but never dared to say anything. Life was complicated enough, and that was a mantra he stood by. So he took the chance, and planned to cook you the meal he was actually proud of.

The Never Ending Story played in the background.

A familiar scene in your trailer.

Eddie’s cooking filled the air with a delicious smell, he was concentrated in it, wanting to impress you while he cooked his ramen noodles with seared shredded chicken.

Meanwhile, you and Lua layed on the rug in your living room, the T.V on a low volume. She had found your nail polish, and cheerfully asked if she could paint your nails.

“What colour do you want to paint them?” You had asked, the calmest your voice has ever been, the tiniest trace of exhaustion in it.

“Blue!” She beamed as she held the bottle.

“Okay, careful though.” You opened the bottle for her, and looked at her as she looked at the puzzle before her. “Do you want me to do the first one?” You asked, knowing that she needed some sort of guide. You realised, she had the same face of concentration as her father, tongue out covering her upper lip.

She started painting, the smell of polish annoying her a bit, you encourage her. Telling her in a kind voice how good of a job she was doing, even if she was getting more colour on your skin than in your nail. She giggled as she covered her face in a shy manner, proud of the job she had finished.

“They look beautiful, bug” Eddie’s voice came right between both of you. As he sat down between you, she held your hand so he could look at them closer. “You did this all by yourself?” Even if he didn’t look at you, and even if his eyes were looking at the proud look on his daughter's face, you could feel the electricity travel from your body to his. And the warmth his touch leaves on your soft skin.

“Yeah.” She whispers in a shy, proud giggle, nodding along, waiting patiently for his compliments.

“She didn’t help you?” He asked again, this time his eyes were on yours. It had changed, you noticed. His eyes weren’t shining with a second intention, or a jokey flare. They were full of something else, if you had to put a name on it -without having to say it out loud- you’d say it was adoration, though you weren’t sure. You were right regardless.

“It was all her.” You tell him. He nods, catching himself falling deeper into the abyss.

“Dinner’s ready” He ended up saying that. He thought that saying what he was really thinking would have been too weird. Tough if he really thought about it, telling you that you had never been more beautiful wasn’t a total lie, or that out of character for him.

Lua sat on his lap, knowing that she would be fed, since she couldn’t be trusted with noodles. Not since she had used a fork to catapult them into the wall a few months back. She was smarter than Eddie realised, and he loved her more for it.

Eddie waited silently for your reaction, and was pleased with himself when you whispered an amazed my god once you took your first bite. He took his chance to look at you while you were eating, distracted by the food. While you took your chance to look at him when he fed Lua.

This was something you could also get used to, you find yourself thinking.

Having company. Having them as company.

It was complicated, and you knew that.

And it was even harder when he acted as nice as he was doing. Even if he had cooked, he was still offering to clean up. It was also harder seeing how Lua wanted you to hold her, exhaustion after a nice meal, she was sleepy and needed comfort. You looked at Eddie, a question written over your face is this okay? He gave you his usual grin, the upside down smile that showed his dimple of course it is.

You held her, close to your chest, her little arms hanged by your side, her head resting between your shoulder and your breast. You were softer than the strong arms she was used to, and your swaying was more delicate -probably because you were afraid to do something that might upset her- you hummed along the final song of the movie that was still playing, and as she felt deeper and deeper into dreaming, Eddie finished cleaning up.

“Is she…?”

“I think so.” Your voice was so quiet he could barely even understand you.

The image of you, holding her with such care, with such softness, with that much love… It became an image he would end up thinking in a recurring manner.

“We could set her down in my room.” You point at the closer door that he had never walked through. He nodded, trying to mask his boyish excitement.

He half expected your room to be as colourfull as the rest of your house, but your walls were white, decorated with just a couple pictures of a city he couldn’t name on the wall, your white sheets that had witnessed your meeting on your bed.

He walked over to you, a bit closer than he had to be to hold Lua, so he could put her down. Enjoying the way his skin graced yours.

He sat down on your mattress, and laid Lua in the middle of it, resting in deep sleep. You followed closely. Your body hitting the usual comfort that your mattress always seemed to have. He waited a second. Another image he wanted to remember happening right in front of him, your body laying down on a bed next to her baby. In another life… Maybe it could have also been yours.

He laid down carefully, and you saw as both of you were lost. Not really sure where to look, but dying to just look at each other's eyes. As these things go, you could only avoid each other for so long.

So you ended up lost into his gaze just as much as he was lost in yours.

It was a bit too much.

“Moon…” You whispered, trying to not wake her up.

“Yeah?”

“Is this weird?” Even if you tried not to, your words still came out as worried as you were.

“Is it weird that it isn’t?” He asked back, the sincerity in his voice made your body relax, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Maybe.” You admit, with a hopeful smile. You turned your focus on her for a moment. “She looks so peaceful.”

“You should see her when she wakes up.” He adds with a smirk on his lips. His fingers pushing a hair out of her face. “She’s calmer when you’re around.”

“We should be careful, then.” You were measuring your words now, not only speaking about her. He knew, so he just nodded.

“You know…” He started speaking after a few minutes of comfortable silence, his body sinking deeper into the comfort of your bed, smelling your perfume in the pillows that hugged his head. “When I had her, it was only me and Wayne, her mother doesn’t want her in her life, and it was scary, and nauseating. I had no idea what I was doing.” His eyes flickered back to you. His shyness was gone, he was calmer with you near. You and the admiration in your eyes. “But I figured it out pretty quickly. She needed me just as much as I needed her. I had help, of course. But still, I wouldn’t change it for the world. She keeps me sane in a way… I know I’m a better person because of her. But I think I’m becoming an even greater person because of you, too.”

You weren’t sure what you could say back. It was a warming feeling, having heard him say it, knowing that somehow you were in the same position as him. So you decided to be brave, to be honest for once.

“I just worry Edds, that’s all.” You admit in a sincer whisper. He knows you’re not done talking, and he doesn’t rush you. He waits patiently, with an understanding nod and a smile on his face. “Meeting you, both of you, has been a blessing. Honestly. It’s been lonely, moving away, being here… And you guys have been so kind, and so welcoming… I really don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“I know, princess.”

“I just… I don’t know where’s the limit. I think… I think I kinnda like you, and if this complicates things I… I don’t know.” You were a bit embarrassed. having finally confessed what has been on your mind for days. But seeing the beaming smile that escaped from Eddie’s lips was all the confirmation you needed.

“I think I kinnda like you too. And I know it sucks. In another life, I would have asked you out, and we would have gone on dates, and we would spend days together but… All I can really think about, all I should think about…” He gestures to the little girl, sleeping soundly. “But we could still figure out a way…”

“You think?”

“Maybe.” He echoes your first maybe, the same tone, the same expression you had given him. “If you want to, we could try it out, go on a date, see if we…”

“Work?”

“Yeah.” A lovesick grin was plastered in both of your faces.

Hope could be felt in the room. Maybe it could work out, maybe you could have something, even if you weren’t sure what that was. Normally the uncertainty would make you nauseous, and anxious. Not this time, it actually made you excited, the promise of a something with them. With him.

“You’d go out with me? An actual date?” He finally asks you. His soft spoken words can’t really hide the excitement that laid deep in his question. And you weren’t that good at lying, and he could read you like a book.

“I’d love to, Moon.” It had been easier than you had anticipated. Complicated and easier seemed to go hand in hand when he came into the picture. “As soon as you fix my car.” You add in a joking tone, sticking your tongue out.

“Oh, your car’s been done for a couple days.” He said in a sirius yet humorous tone, he covered his mouth with his index fingers as soon as a chuckle escaped your lips.

“Asshole.” You whispered in disbelief.

“I just liked having an excuse to hang out with you.”

Just like that, your heart was warmer once again. And soft giggles and conversation followed all the way through the night.

Until the exhaustion caught up with you.

You fell asleep right there. A picture that both of you wanted to remember, the little promise of something more.

there might be a part 3 if you guys would like it ! xx

if you enjoyed it please leave a comment or reblog. i promise it makes a huge difference <3

requests! are open

@took-me-hours-to-steal-those @edens-vices-art @micheledawn1975 @peachystenbrough @mewchiili @bylermaxmayfield @yujyujj @honeymoonmunsonn @paleidiot @ali-r3n

part 2 is up, thank for the support dudes <3

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bb-eilish · 9 months

Text

Blooming Eyes

pairing; collegeathlete!anakinx flowershopworker!reader

summary; After accidentally knocking over another student with her painting, Y/n seems to have caught the eye of him. The same eyes that stare at her, blue and intense have trapped her, so she does what she does best; paint.

word count; 14.5k

warnings; P in v sex, multiple smut scenes, rough sex, romantic sex, mutual pining, obsession, dirty talk, name-calling, dumbification, making out( so much kissing omg), cunnilingus, creampie, etc etc

Working and going to school wasn’t fun, Y/n’s sure nobody has ever said it was. Though, her job was, oddly, pretty nice. She worked in a flower shop for Christ's sake, she was around nice people, and even nicer flowers.

School on the other hand was not as enjoyable. Y/n was in school for painting, and because of these two things people were able to figure her out easily. A sensitive woman who owns multiple cats, some even going as far as labeling her a "crazy cat lady" and trying to decipher her mental health for some reason.

She didn't let that bother her though, she lived a cozy life and for that she was grateful.

"I'll miss you." She pouts at her cat. The fluffy white one, Cherry, brushed against her legs as Y/n crouched, she briefly licked Y/n's fingers before rubbing her furry face against them. The woman smiled softly at the white fluff ball as she swept her hand down the cat's furry back.

"Don't think I forgot about you Mr. Grumpy pants." Y/n smiles as she steps over to her other cat, the broody void named Bear. He was curled up on top of her couch cushion, hiding his pouty face as she baby-talked. "I'll miss you too." The black cat uncurled to stretch and play with Y/n's fingers. She finally grabbed her backpack, the large canvas she had to drag to class, and waved at the two cats before opening and shutting the door to her apartment.

Traffic wasn't too bad, though, she wouldn't mind if it was. She enjoys blasting music and singing as loud as she wants. It was therapeutic. But, as she was pulling into the parking lot infront of the art building, she turned a little too sharp and the canvas in her backseat went flying. A mantra of "shit shit shit shit shit" flew out of her mouth as she parked and prayed it didn't break. Y/n whips around and inspects the item before slumping down in relief.

Now, the worst part, getting this monstrosity into class without injuring her fellow classmates.

"Sorry, 'scuse me." She mutters as she sidesteps and tip-toes through a crowd of people. A large clock sits on the wall of the building she's facing and, of course, it reads ‘9:29’. Her class starts at 9:30, she knows college professors are more lenient but she didn’t get that kind of teacher.

She loves her art class, absolutely adores it, but the teacher is a bit of a stickler and will kick students out if they're more than a minute late. Y/n thankfully spots the brick building just in time. Suddenly, "Go long" is yelled from beside her. Whipping her head around, she spots a student who is obviously an athlete and rolls her eyes, turning back to look in front of her.

But that would, simply, be too easy. Her canvas completely bulldozes over somebody as she turned around for half a second. "Oh my god." She spoke, not at the man on the ground, but at the freshly ripped hole right in the center of her painting. Terror paints her face as she stares at it. "Watch where you're going maybe." One of the guy's friends says.

"My painting.." She says as the man on the ground gets up. She's about to apologize when the clock from before chimes at 9:30, her eyes widen more, if possible, so she offers a mumbled "Sorry" before scrambling off.

"Are you okay, Anakin?"

"Yea...I'm fine." He lets out, still a little stunned. Not at him being basically tackled, but at her. He's never seen her before, but he couldn't think of a better way to run into her. He shakes his head and catches up with his friends, momentarily turning behind him to see if he's able to catch a glimpse of the canvas through the crowd of students.

Y/n successfully makes it on time, she flies down into her seat after setting the canvas on the project table.

"Nice to see you all again." Her teacher begins, but Y/n tunes him out. As she relaxes into her chair she can't help but think back to the guy she rushed into, guilt fills her as she realized she never properly said sorry. She can't even recall what the guy looks like.

Later that day she walks around the flower shop, fixing up and watering some of the plants. It's so relaxing, she smiles at each one before moving on to the next. Soon the door swings open to a rowdy group of boys, all of them well over 6'0 as they leer over the shelves of flowers. She catches a bit of their conversation, "What do you think she would like? I know I fucked up, flowers will help, trust me. Girls eat that shit up." She rolls her eyes at that, continuing to care for the various flowers.

Unbeknownst to her, a pair of eyes catch her, they continue to lock onto her, even when she disappears into the backroom.

The boys ring the bell on the desk, a little too much and a little too rough. She licks her teeth in annoyance as she steps out to the checkout counter. There's about 4 of them and she'd rather be buried alive than have to talk to them. It's unbelievably intimidating as they stare at her while she's checking out the bouquet of flowers they settled on.

"That'll be $15.99." She mutters, looking up and making eye contact with one of them. His eyes are intense, but not in the same way as the others. She feels hooked, almost like she was lured into a trap. She gulps quietly before looking back down, putting away the money, and offering them change.

"Have a nice day and come again." She says, the last part coming out as they stare at each other once more. They only look away after the door opens and closes again. She's not sure if he looks back at her because she turns and zips into the backroom.

Friday, finally. She doesn't have school today, she only works. Her shift doesn't start until 4.

So, until then, she sits and does nothing. It's wonderful, she adores laying on her couch with her cats. Today was a bit different though, the stranger's eyes appeared in her head at every turning corner. It brought along a wave of goosebumps and quick heartbeats. Y/n has no idea why she's so drawn to him, but she is and it has completely blindsided her.

"Alright guys, I'll be home soon enough." Is said to her cats, more for herself honestly. Her shift went per usual, the people were back to being polite, no rowdy men who are incredibly enticing.

The next day, though, was unusual.

The bells she adores chime and ring as she enters the shop, checking in and greeting Marleen, the store owner. "Anything interesting happen recently?" Y/n asks, trying to make conversation as she gets out the watering can for the flowers. Marleen walks behind the cash register as she thinks, "Kind of, a man came in here and walked around for a little bit the other day, didn't buy anything, and then sat outside on the bench for another 10 minutes before leaving."

Y/n furrows her eyebrows, "That's strange." The conversation ends there as she goes to the back of the green house outside and fills up the can, dragging it back and watering the flowers.

An hour or two goes by before a few people come in, she's snipping some of the leaves as one of them gets her attention. The bell chimes once more behind her but she doesn't look. "Can I help you?" She asks, turning towards the man with a smile on her face. "Yes, would you happen to know anything about taking care of plants?"

She smiles brighter at that, "I do, whats the problem?"

"Well, my cactus is starting to turn a darker green or black color at the bottom and it's becoming softer. I'm not sure what to do." The man says, nibbling his lip. Y/n nods before asking, "How often do you water it per week?"

The man raises his eyebrows, "I water it everyday, is that bad?"

She hums, "There's your issue, root rot. Since it's the spring you only need to water it about every 10 days, that should clear it up. If the rot is more severe you might need to repot and re-soil it."

"I see, thank you so much!" She smiles as they part ways, she goes back to snipping the last of the leaves before retreating back to the backroom to drop off the scissors and then to the counter, waiting for anyone to check out. She spaces out for a second before noticing someone walking up to the front of the counter.

"Hello, did you find everything okay?" She spews off automatically before looking up, seeing it's the man from the other day. Not the loud, obnoxious one, the one with the intense blue eyes.

He softly smiles, "I did." His voice is deep, but inviting and easy to listen to. She grabs the small potted succulent he placed onto the counter before grabbing the scanner and scanning the bottom. She catches his outfit, a black baggy t-shirt and acid-wash black jeans. The simpleness only added to his overall appeal.

"You sure know a lot about plants." He starts, smiling at her. "You must have a lot at home."

She laughs before telling him the price, "I don't actually, I have cats so y'know." She smiles while the man swipes his card, "It'll ask you if you want to add a tip and then you can sign." She says, regarding the card reader. He nods before tapping it a few times and dragging his finger along the screen.

"You look like the type to have cats." He says as he puts his card away, "Is that bad?" Y/n lightly teases. He shakes his head no, "Not at all, it's cute."He says, momentarily reading her name tag. "I'll be sure to come back and ask you for advice if anything happens ." Her heart practically stops in her chest as she laughs, "I'll be expecting you, have a nice day."

"You too, Y/n."

She swallows, watching him leave. "Oh my god." She whispers, she could fill out a diary about him and they only just met. So, thats exactly what she does.

When she returns home, she makes a B-line for the new pocket-sized sketchbook she recently bought. She flips past the drawings of flowers and settles on an empty page. Getting out a pencil and drawing the one thing she remembers the most, his eyes. The intensity of them, his brow bone, she makes sure she incorporates the way they make her feel as well. She even busts out her colored pencils for the blue of his irises.

She would feel embarrassed if she didn't feel a physical feeling before drawing his eyes, her fingers tingle as she draws them, again and again. They stain page after page, some colored, some not. But they all make her feel the same way. When she deems it out of her system for the time being, she checks her clock, stunned to see it was way past 12:00.

But that's okay, the shop isn't open on Sundays.

Her dreams that night were surreal, she fell into his eyes, literally, like they were a hurricane, they swirled her further and further into him. She drowned in his eyes and wouldn’t mind if she did in real life too. When she awakes, there's a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. That day she tries her best to get into her homework and not the alluring customer from her job. At one point she spaces off and doodles along the sides of her psychology homework, it lasts a few moments before she realized what she drew. The same pair of eyes that have been tormenting her, stare back from her homework.

"I'm going crazy." She mumbles, laying her head on the table. Y/n picks herself up after a minute or so. Scribbling down the answer to the last few problems, she throws the paper in her folder and sits down on her couch, chewing her thumbnail anxiously. She's not really sure what's going on with her, she doesn't even know his name. His eyes though, the way they stared at her, brought out a feeling like no other. She decides to occupy herself with tv until she goes to bed, she has art class tomorrow and is well aware of the homework her teacher assigns on Mondays.

—

Pulling into her parking space, she makes a mental note on the art supplies she has to buy. The faint thought of taking her drawings of him to the next level startle her. Is this creepy? She hopes not. It's truly addicting to think about him.

"Happy Monday, everyone. As you're probably expecting, I have an assignment for you." Sighs are heard through the class as he keeps going, "Next Monday you will turn in a painting on something that moves you. Doesn't matter what, but make it have meaning." He finishes. Y/n thinks for a moment about what she'd make, she can feel it at the back of her mind though. She doesn't have to really think that hard about it.

Her job was quiet, only two people came in during the 3 hours she's been there. Her shift ends in 10 minutes and she's excited to pick up some new art supplies, creativity is fresh on her mind, it has the tips of her fingers tingle. So much so, she grabs a pad of paper and a pencil and gets to practicing the same pair of eyes she's come to perfect.

The bells chime and she lets out a "Welcome in." As she usually does. She doesn't look at the door as she shades in the pupil of the eye, she can already see his likeliness shining through the paper. She continues adding details to his eyebrows as she senses something.

"Wow, that's amazing." A deep voice says from over her shoulder. Y/n jumps about 6 feet in the air and just barely keeps in her squeal of terror. He stands back and chuckles, "Didn't mean to scare you, you okay?" He asks, putting a comforting hand on her back.

"Oh yea, I'm fine. And thank you." She tries her best to seem not panicky and caught red handed.

"Can I see it?" He asks her, nodding towards the pad of paper. Okay, now it's time to panic. She can't say no, that would be off putting. Maybe he won't notice the resemblance? She inhales, "Sure, here." She scoots over the paper to him. Her heart stutters in her chest and her palms grow clammy the longer he stares at it.

"These seem familiar." He pauses, she could honestly throw up right now, this can't be happening. "I can't put my finger on it."

She exhales, relief settling over her shoulders as he moves back to the front of the small counter, she shuffles the paper onto the shelf below the register, hoping he doesn't connect any dots.

"I actually came here to ask you something. I'm in botany right now and it's not looking too good for me, I saw how good you are with plants, so I was wondering if you would tutor me? ." Y/n widens her eyes, what did she do in her past life to be rewarded like this?

"Oh, yea, I can do that. When are you free?" She's dreamed about asking him that, different context though, usually it's after he declares his love for her and wants to get married. Tutoring is good too though.

"I'm not working at the moment so any time that works for you probably works for me." He smiles, the motion adds a matching expression to her own face.

"Tomorrow at 6:00?"

"Perfect, does my place work? I'll give you my number." He tells her, waiting eagerly for her to reply.

"I can do that, and here." She grabs her phone from her back pocket. Passing it to him, her bottom lip becomes trapped under her front teeth. Their fingers brush against each other’s as he takes the device from her. Y/n swallows, glancing everywhere but him as he continues. "Here." He passes it back to her, he even put in his name. "Anakin." She states looking up at him. There's a gleam in his eyes, she's not sure what it is but it's accompanied by a teasing smile.

"That's me. Well, I just came here to run that by you, thank you again. I'll talk to you later?" He leans on his hands that are flat on the counter, not so subtly towering over her. The intensity in his eyes comes swooping back as she looks up at him. They trace her very being and it feels like she's forgotten how to breathe.

"I'll make sure to text you after my shift." She smiles at him to the best of her ability, it's hard though, she feels like the only person in the world as he looks at her. It's not a bad feeling, not at all, it makes her feel warm and special.

"I'll be looking forward to it." He let's her know as he walks to the door, turning around to speak to her.

When he leaves and is out of her line of sight, she crumbles. Y/n sits down behind the counter to catch her breath. Her face probably looks like a tomato right now, but she doesn't mind-Y/n has bigger problems. Like having to text him. What should she say?

'Hi' sounds too uninterested.

'Hello' sounds too formal.

'Hey' sounds too much.

She decides she'll cross that bridge when she gets there, she has another hour behind the counter before she can leave.

Turns out, that hour was pure agony. She spaced out the entire time and it STILL felt like years. But, it's bittersweet. As she sits in her car, face lit by the screen of her phone, the empty message bar sits there, she's typed nothing. Y/n knows she's being dramatic, so she huffs and types against her will.

"Hey, this is Y/n."

Then she basically throws her phone into the passenger seat and takes off. The volume of the radio blasts as she grips the steering wheel with a new found urgency.

Just when she opens her door she remembers the supply store. "Goddamnit." She swears she'll go tomorrow.

"Hi, Babies." She greets her cats as they hang around her legs.

It's not very late so she decides to start on her art project. She has a closet full of canvas', so she flips through them. What would make Anakin's eyes pop the most? Y/n doesn't know why she does this to herself, but she picks the biggest one she owns. This time, though, if it rips, she might attack somebody.

She lays the canvas out on her floor, an array of different black and gray pencils sit around her.

She closes her eyes for a moment, visualizing earlier that day. How his eyes pierced her, how he looked down at her. Blindly, she searches for a pencil. The feel of it on her fingers felt amazing, she cracks open her eyes and gets to work. His eyes fill the entire thing in no time and she feels whole. It didn't take long for her to fully sketch out everything, as she gazes at her newest obsession, it sends a jolt of electricity down her back. She breathes before picking up her phone, lungs soon deflating as she sees a text.

'Thought you forgot about me for a second haha'

She spots the time it was sent, 1 hour ago.

She scrambles to open the message app and type actual words.

'I could never and sorry by the way. I was working on my art project, it really cuts me off from the world lol'

He responds a second later;

'You really are a tortured artist lol'

'Here's my address by the way-->'

Y/n knows she'll have to put that into her gps, she's not the best with directions.

'Thanks, I'll be there at 6. Make sure you have the homework you're struggling with and the class textbook'

'I gotchu'

The conversation ends there, she can finally breathe.

School was, well, school, nothing ever happens in her math or english classes. Per usual, her job was the most exciting part of her day that didn't involve Anakin.

So, when she leaves work and heads to the supply store, she picks up the right paint and decides if she needs more brushes or not. As she tosses them in her backseat, she checks the time on her phone, "You have to be kidding me." She grumbles, 5:50. Her fingers quickly punch in his address before she's pulling out of the parking lot. He lives about 15 minutes away and it makes her kind of want to drive off the bridge she's currently driving over.

She speeds the entire way there, thankfully arriving 13 minutes later instead of 15.

In her scrambled state she forgets who's door she's knocking on for a moment, the fear of being late taking over her mind completely. So when Anakin opens the door she grips the wall beside her for support. "Well well, seems you're about 14 minutes late, tsk tsk." He teases as he holds the door open for her.

"I'm so sorry, I had to run to the store to get more paint." She offers, slipping her shoes off.

"Art project you were talking about last night?' Anakin asks, closing the door. Y/n nods, muttering a 'Yea'.

"When am I gonna be able to see it? If it's taking so much of your time it must be good."

Her eyes widen, he wasn't able to decipher the quick sketch at her job, but he would absolutely tell with her painting. She tries to hide her panic, "Maybe if you pass botany." She teases, following him to wherever he's set up at. They come up to his dining room table, papers and textbooks are arranged nicely, it makes her smile.

He takes a seat and pats the one next to him, "C'mon Ms. Artist. Tell me about plants."

She giggles as they begin.

Everything is going well, he's getting questions right and seems fairly knowledgeable on the topic.

"Are you sure you need help? You're doing great, I could hire you at my shop." He gives her a shrug and a laugh, the topic shifting to normal conversation after a little.

"You have two cats?" He asks, body facing her as he leans on an arm.

"Yup, Cherry and Bear, both pieces of my heart." She expects him to laugh at her for saying that, poke fun at her for caring so much for them. But he smiles, "That's cute, I can't lie. Do you have any pictures?" Y/n almost misses his question, her ears still perked up at his compliment.

"Oh, uh, yea." She grabs her phone in her back pocket, swiping through her pictures until she lands on one. Cherry lays on her chest while Bear sits behind her, his head pressed up against the side of her face. It still warms her heart looking at it.

As she shows him the photo, she gauges his reaction. A moment passes. "Wow, that's so cute" He's mumbles, drinking in the photo as she pulls it away, "I know right, they both have such cute faces."

"Oh yea, your cats are cute too."

She laughs at that, trying to not let his obvious flirting ruin her composure right now. As Y/n stares at the photo, the time in the corner of the device catches her attention. "I should go, it's getting late." She says softly, stacking the papers they went over, neatly. She stands and pushes the chair in, until a hand comes up to hers, stopping her from getting too far.

"When are you free again?"

"What, you wanna talk about my cats some more?" She laughs, soon looking up at him again as he stands. The hand on hers doesn't move, only squeezes for a second. A laugh leaves him as he looks away for a moment, a smile present on his face

"No tutoring this time, I was wondering if you just wanted to hang out? No plants."

Her eyebrows raise, "Oh, seriously?"

"If you don't want to thats okay-"

"No!..no, I, that would be nice." She stutters out, swallowing. The hand on hers maneuvers so they're hands are interlocked. She would've peaked down if not for the way he was looking at her. It's like a switch for him honestly, the intensity in his eyes flood back and she has to remind herself to stand correctly.

Anakin sucks in his bottom lip as he stares at her face, soon settling on her lips. He takes the first step, backing her into his table. Their fingers split apart as he leans his hands on the edges of the furniture, blocking her in. "I honestly can't get enough of you, each time I see you it's not enough." He whispers against her parted lips, his right hand coming up to cradle her waist.

"Anakin." She breathes heavily.

"Can I kiss you?" He asks, lips brushing against hers.

Y/n gulps, nodding as she gazes at his eyes then lips.

He doesn't wait a second before connecting with her skin, gently, lightly. The kiss progresses, the last hand on the table drifts to the base of her neck, loosely gripping the skin. Y/n seriously can't get over how big he is, he's so broad and tall. She feels like he could swallow her up with ease and it has her knees weakening.

They eventually drift apart, lingering near each other until he backs up and lets her out of his cage.

"Here." He mumbles, grabbing her hand and leading her to where her shoes sat. She slips them on without tying them.

"Text me when you get home?" Anakin asks, leaning his hand against his door frame as she stands on his porch. A soft chuckle escapes her, "Sure." Before she goes, he leans in, placing a hand on her cheek and leaving a sizzling goodbye kiss on her lips.

"Bye."

After letting him know she got home safe, she pretty much passed out, she's never been through so much in such a short period of time.

She wakes up to a few texts, and each and everyone of them drive her teeth deeper into her, poor, bottom lip.

'Good morning'

"I had a lot of fun last night'

'What are your classes today?'

Y/n composes herself as best she can before replying.

'Good morning! I had a lot of fun too, more than I've had in awhile'

"And I have two classes, psych and geometry’

The bubbles appear and she turns off her phone, closing her eyes and squealing.

'Do you wanna meet up sometime this week? if you're busy thats okay i totally get it'

She giggles at his rambling.

'I'd love to see you, is Friday okay?'

'Friday's great, wanna grab lunch? I'll pick you up'

"Sounds fun, see you then<3'

Was the heart too much? She doesn't know, it felt right in the moment. She honestly wouldn't be surprised if this was another one of her dreams, they're a little too convincing for her liking.

To say the week went slowly is an understatement. But, she has made good progress on her drawing, the vivid blues she used brought out his eyes incredibly. She traced the dried shadows casted onto the skin of his eyelids with her finger, she knew she was fucked.

Friday rolled around, it weighed on her psyche like a brick. Soon, though, the crippling anticipation would be over.

She scanned herself over in the mirror, "You got this, it's just the dude you're infatuated with who likes you back." Saying it out loud did not help, infact, the need to throw up starting growing. Y/n chugged some water before getting the text.

'I'm outside'

She inhaled and said her goodbyes to her cats, shakily closing the apartment door behind her. From the lobby she could spot a black car parked right in front of the stairs, she hoped it was his. It would be really awkward if she opened it and it wasn’t Anakin. Thankfully, though, it was. "Hey" He greeted, leaning his elbow on the center console, eyeing her closely.

"Where we goin?" Y/n asked, buckling in her seatbelt after she shut the door. He made a thoughtful face before saying the name of a cafe place he wanted to try. Her interested was piqued. The drive there made her giggle, the music he was playing made it very..obvious he was a college student. "What?" He asked, turning to her for a second before watching the road again, a matching smile on his face.

"You listen to fuck boy music." She pressed her hand lightly over her mouth as she laughed harder.

A look of faux offense struck his face as he let out an incredulous scoff. "Fuck boy music?" His astounded voice made the situation all the more funny, her stomach even started hurting from laughing so much. "Wow.." He murmured, chuckling some more. He bit his lip and shook his head. After that it was much easier to talk to him, he was easy to converse with surprisingly.

"What drink did you get?” He asks, taking a bite from his bagel. “An iced matcha latte with a shot of vanilla and vanilla sweet cold foam.”

He blinks at her, “Bless you.”

She laughs before taking another sip of her drink, a lock of her hair loosens from behind her ear and hangs in front of her eye. Anakin doesn’t waste a second before his hand is coming up to loop it back in place.

Y/n raises her eyebrows at his eagerness, "What? Couldn't have anything blocking that face of yours." The drink coming up her straw slowly goes back down as she freezes. A blush she hopes isn't as bad as she thinks it is, takes over her face and ears. She's really not used to a guy being this way with her. Anakin watches her, amused, he loves the way she reacts to his advances.

"What time is it? My shift starts at 4." She remembers, playing with her straw.

"2:04."

"I got time, what do you wanna do?" She wonders as he stands up and grabs the paper his bagel came with, throwing it away as they walk out. "Good question, do you wanna go back to your place?" It's an innocent enough question but she raises her eyebrows anyway, teasing him.

"Oh don't give me that look." He smiles, putting an arm around her shoulders. Leaning into her ear he says lowly, "Don't tell me you're already thinking dirty thoughts. You're so cute." His words paired with his tone, the proximity, his arm, and the intoxicating way his lips and breath brush against her ears are too much for her. "Ladies first." He says, back to his smiley self as he opens the passenger door for her.

The way back could be both worse and better at the same time. He rests a hand on her clothed thigh, he doesn't move it, but it's there, and she's acutely aware of it. It singes her skin even through her jeans. Y/n swears he's out for blood right now, she can feel her heart and it's not looking good.

As she unlocks her apartment door, she wouldn't be surprised if she just dropped dead right there.

Her cats, like always, meet her at the door, tails flicking, and cute meows spewing at random moments. Anakin's in awe as he crouches down, letting the animals smell his hands. "They're so cute."

She giggles at his expression, hanging up her purse.

Her cats warm up to him pretty fast, Bear flips over, his furry stomach on display for them both. Anakin gets his cat fix before moving on to her living room. "Very cozy, Ms. Tortured Artist." He jokes, taking a seat on the couch. Y/n laughs, finding the remote, "Oh, please. I swear everyone thinks I'm such an open book."

"That's probably because you are." He smiles, leaning back and manspreading.

"Okay then, guess something about me." She challenges, forgetting the remote to turn and face his smug expression. "Hmm." He looks up at her ceiling in thought before making an 'o' shape with his mouth, "I bet your room is either beige or pink, no in between." Her mouth opens a bit, he actually got it right. Her bedsheets are pink, maybe she is an open book.

"Well, fuck. You got me, it's pink." She laughs, shrugging.

"Of course it is, can I see it? I don't see too many adults with pink rooms." He plays it off, acting like he's completely innocent in this. Y/n nods, standing up to venture down the hallway. She creeks the door open, her lips pursed as she showed him the pink room he completely guessed right on.

"Wow, cute room. I bet you bring all the guys here, hm?" He teases, sitting on the edge of her bed, he pats the space next to him. "You're an ass." Y/n mumbles, sitting next to him. He leans over a bit, "I might be, do you have a problem with that?' He leans in more, scooting over even. He's close again like he was at his house that day.

She shakes her head, her spine tingling at the sensation of his hand wandering to her thigh. It caresses it, almost luring her she feels like. "Good." Is the last thing she hears before he kisses her again. They both lose themselves in the intimate act, need coming from both sides. It gets heavy quickly, a hand is placed around her back, pulling them closer together, the hand on her thigh has migrated to her ass.

Crash!

Anakin was honestly just going to power through it, the feel of her so eager to touch him sent him spiraling. But, of course, she pulls away.

"Give me one moment, okay?" Y/n pants against his lips, an apologetic smile already on her face. He nods, smacking her ass when she gets up. He closes his eyes and breathes, later opening them to glance around her room. It makes him feel something as he takes in the cutesy stuff around him, and that something shoots down to his jeans as they tighten ever so slightly. Stuffed animals littered her pink bed, her desk next to it had cute little stationary sets, random figurines, and a little notebook. He's not sure why it catches his attention but it does, the latch to keep it closed piqued his interest. So, without thinking, he leans for it, swiping it from the table.

The leather rubs against his warm fingertips as he unlatches it, flipping to the first page. "Predictable." He smiles, little sketches of flowers are sprinkled through out it, and the page after it. Just as he gets to the third page she walks in, immediately eyeing her demise in his hands. She snatches it from his hands the second he lays his eyes on, well, his eyes.

"You're so nosy." She laughs it off like she didn't feel her heart lurch in her chest.

"Sorry." He pauses, leaning back to look at her. A new mood swirling through his eyes, new to her at least.

"You really like drawing those eyes, huh?" He smiles, watching as she sits back next to him. "You could say that." She responds, hoping he drops it. He, thankfully, lets go of what he saw, eyeing her on her cute pink bed, the blush on her cheeks, and the timid look on her face. It’s so alluring. “Don't you think you're a little far away?" Anakin asks, ready to tackle her.

"I'm right next to you, our knees are touching."

"Yea, well, I could think of some other things I'd like to be touching other than our knees." He mumbles, loud enough for her to hear. He gazes at her face with an unbreaking stare. Scooting closer, he leans in to graze her ear with his lips.

"Seeing you all shy and blushy on your pretty pink bed really turns me on, if I'm being honest." His voice an octave lower. A moment later he stands up, a teasing smile on his face. "It's 3:10, you should get ready for work." Y/n looks at him with huge eyes, her fists still clenching the sheets under her. She nods, eyes going everywhere before landing on her lap—her mind trying to rationalize what just happened.

"Oh, right." Need has settled in her stomach, it swirls inside her as she walks past him to her closet. Her work uniform was neatly hung up like usual.

"Wow, do I get a show?" Anakin asks, amused as he takes a seat back on her bed. Y/n playfully scoffs, laying her clothes on her bed before taking his hand and guiding him through her house. "Are you kicking me out, Cutie? I thought we had something special." He jokes, putting on his shoes. "You're so annoying." She laughs, opening the door when he's done. "I'll talk to you later, okay? Gotta make sure you don't miss me too much."

"Okay, okay, get out." She laughs again, Anakin puts his arms up in faux defense as he laughs along. "I'll see you later, Cutie." He takes ahold of her chin, guiding their lips together. The kiss is definitely more than a peck, it leaves her wanting more as he pulls away. He offers her a wink before leaving down her building's hallway.

After closing the door, she slides down it. Face pressed into her knees. Images of what happened only minutes prior race through her mind, momentarily stunning her. She's never been so attracted to someone in her life. But, in love or not, she must get to work. As she's undressing to change into her uniform, she can't help but to let her mind wander. What if she did 'give him a show'?, she knows the feeling of his hands against her bare skin would be intoxicating. His already sinful mouth would be hair-raising.

Goosebumps graze over her arms and stomach as she slips on her shirt and tugs on her pants. The entire way there and her entire shift was endured with a heavy heart. She was wrapped so tightly around his finger already. The vulnerability of it all was scary though, she fell so hard and so fast. Yet, she didn't worry too much about it.

That night she lay awake. Skimming her fingers over her lips, replaying the kisses he's shared with her. A warm feeling fills her chest and abdomen as she closes her eyes. Pressing her face into the pillow as she smiles.

—

“Hey, listen, I was wondering if you’d like to come to my game next weekend.” Anakin says, he called her only a moment ago and, obviously, she picked up pretty fast.

“You play sports?” It really wasn’t that surprising, whenever he wore short sleeves his biceps would strain against the material, she could only imagine what the rest of him looked like.

“Yea, I play football. I’d love if you came, seeing you there would be great.”

“Sounds fun, I haven’t gone to a football game since I was in high school.” She murmurs into the phone, sitting cross-cross on her floor alongside her painting.

“Well, then you probably don’t know that you’ll need to wear a cheer costume, preferably a size smaller or two.” He teases, jokingly trying to convince her. A laugh comes from her and he can picture her smile.

“Is that so? I’m not sure either of us would enjoy my ass hanging out infront of the entire school.” She chuckles, spinning her brush in the jar of water next to her, soon drying it off on a rag.

“You’re right, you should cheer me on in a more..secluded place, like my bedroom.”

“You’re too much, Anakin.” She pauses for a moment, voice becoming softer as she continues. “I’ll be there, text me what time and stuff, okay?” The man on the other end smiles, “Of course, also. I don’t have a picture of you for your contact, could you send me that one you took of you and your cats you showed me the other day?”

Her eyebrows raise, he was oddly specific. “Sure, why that one specifically?” She wonders aloud, dipping her brush into some of the paint lightly.

“I love that picture of you, I told you I thought you were cute in it.” His deep chuckle has her hand momentarily stalling.

“I thought you were just being horny, if I’m being honest.” She confesses, breathy laugh escaping her.

“Me? Horny? Absolutely not.” Anakin teases, sitting up in his bed. “I will say though, could you blame me? You do something to me, Y/n. It’s difficult not touching you at all times.” He confesses, rubbing his neck with his free hand.

“What, do you like me or something?” She could only think of a limited amount of responses. The topic of sex and all things related stunned her a bit, she wasn’t a virgin but that didn’t mean she was used to his advances or forwardness. She heard his low laugh from the line and laid her brush on the rag for the time being.

“You have no idea, it’s honestly a miracle we’ve made it this far. We haven’t even had sex yet and you’re still keeping up with me. It means a lot.” The sincerity in his voice caught her off guard.

“Does that not usually happen?” She wonders if it’s too much to ask, but she’s curious. He sighs before answering.

“I don’t have the best..track record with relationships. I feel like sometimes all people boil me down to is sex, so, it’s refreshing that we haven’t done anything yet and you still wanna hang out with me.” His answer honestly made her wanna cry, she couldn’t imagine being used in such a way—multiple times.

"I'm so sorry. If it means anything, that's probably the last thing I'd ever do. I know I don't show my feelings much...but I really like you. It kinda scares me honestly." She held her breath at the confession, scared of what he'll reply with.

"Yea? You like me? What do you like about me exactly?" And there he was, back to his old teasing self. Y/n laughs loudly at his sudden change in tone.

"Do you actually want a list?" She smiles, absentmindedly grabbing her brush and twirling it in the dark-colored water.

"Oh absolutely, lay it on me, Cutie."

"Hmm, well, I really like how forward you are. You saying you'd like to see me and stuff, the guys I've dated in the past tried to be all cool and anti-feelings. It's nice knowing what you're thinking."

"How could I ever hide how I feel about you?" He sighed, running a hand through his sandy curls.

"Plus, it really helps that you're sexy." She had to say it, it had to be known. It was the truth, she couldn't be blamed. Anakin snorts at that.

"You're so cute, I just wanna pinch your cheeks." He teases, goofy smile on his face.

The call, unfortunately, ends a little after that. She has one day to finish the painting, it only needed some final touches so she was happy tomorrow was Sunday.

Said day went nicely. She finished the painting completely and couldn't be happier with it. She honestly doesn't know how she did it but she truly encompassed Anakin onto the canvas. Looking at it brought a warm feeling to her body, it swam from her heart, to her stomach, and to her limbs.

"Alright, there are two piles. One is the normal turn in pile, and the other is the turn in pile for the University’s art show next Friday night. Now, I will warn you, not everyone who enters will be in the show. We are looking for the best the class has to offer, if you don't get picked that's okay. There will always be more."

Y/n thinks heavily about her decision, she can't possibly pass up an opportunity like this. So, she breathes and adds it to the art show pile. She tries her best to not dwell on it too much, she knows if she overthinks she'll end up panicking and changing her decision. The teacher tells them their homework for the week, but it's nothing to fret over. Because this project was so big he only asked for some simple sketches and drawings.

By the time she makes it out of class her phone pings, an email. Apparently, her teacher for her last class of the day is sick so class is cancelled. She shrugs mentally and decides to head to the library. Her shift doesn't start for a hot minute and she could get some homework done.

She adores the library, especially this one table. It's more towards the back, it's cut off by thick shelves, little to no distraction. It's perfect for homework.

As she walks, she feels her shoulders lift. The painting hanging over her head was done. The obsession with Anakin's eyes painted into reality, it was done. A small smiles lifts her lips as she opens the door to the building the library is located in. The shelves blur together as she walks passed them, they tower over her as usual. The place is fairly empty, aside from one or two students.

She gets closer to the table and crosses her fingers, hoping it's empty. Y/n sighs in relief as she sees it vacant. Sitting in her usual seat, she sets down her backpack and drags out her computer.

Unexpectedly, her phone pings again. This time it isn't an email.

'what class are you in rn?'

Y/n smiles, giddly typing a reply.

'class was cancelled, im doing some homework in the library. it's so quiet in here it’s great’

She leaves it at that, not expecting anything to come from it. So, she plugs in her headphones and shuffles her playlist. Beginning to type her homework. Her head bops to the beat until a pair of hands squeeze her shoulders. It makes her jump, she's honestly not sure if she made a sound or not, her music was a little too loud. She tugs out the earplugs, knowing the culprit already.

"Anakin, you scared me." She breathes, smile on her face as she places a hand on her chest.

"That was kinda the point." He teases, sitting in the seat beside her. "Whatchya working on?"

"My English essay, do you not have a class right now?"

"Technically, it's not a mandatory day. Plus, I'd rather be here with you." He flirts, grabbing her hand that rests on the table. "I missed you."

She can't take her eyes off of him as he tells her that. "I missed you too." Soon, he's nodding at her headphones. "What're you listening to?"

"Oh, Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls, it's one of my favorite songs." She passes him one of the earbuds and restarts it.

As she continues typing her essay, they're both quiet, listening to the love song. Anakin's eyes trail up her arm, to her concentrated face, his eyes soften as he takes her in. The song adding a loving theme song to what he was feeling. She was so close to him, a mere few inches. His hand reaches out to graze her arm, skin free due to the short sleeved shirt she was wearing. It brought comfort to him that he could reach out and know she was there.

Y/n's eyes flick to him at the touch, meeting his gaze quickly.

It's silent between them, the look he's giving her would've probably had her in the hospital a week ago. She's able to keep looking at him now, even through his intense stare. Electricity crackles in the air around them, nothing else matters. Nothing else could matter.

His hand doesn't leave her upper arm as he leans in, romantically connecting their lips. The chorus starts up once again, it's fuel for the desire being poured from them. They push together harder, wanting to be one. The only reason they split is for air. But, the need for closeness is still alive and well. So, he scoots closer, wrapping her in a hug. He mumbles something in her hair, but she doesn’t hear it. The sound of their breathing and heartbeats is the only thing heard after that until Y/n speaks up.

"Do you wanna go to an art show next Friday night with me?" Her voice is quiet, almost like he'd run away if she was too loud.

Pulling away enough to look into her eyes, he answers. "Of course, I'd go anywhere with you."

That week they met up a few times, sometimes at school, and sometimes at random restaurants for a date. Anakin was sure he was losing his mind, he's never felt such a way for someone. He was falling for her, very hard and very fast.

After their meet up at the library, Y/n had an idea. Thinking back to when they were on the phone, what if she did wear a cheer costume. Obviously not to the game, but they could celebrate afterward. She wanted to be closer to him, needed the feeling of him. She knew Anakin wanted that too, so she was ready to make it memorable. She orders the skimpy costume off of Amazon and checks that it'll be there before Friday night.

So, when Friday morning rolls around and it ends up in her mailbox she's more than ready for what's to come.

"You're picking me up right?" She asks over the phone, the device is on speaker as she gets undressed, ready to put on the costume under her normal clothing.

"Yea..why do you sound so far away?"

"Oh, sorry. You're on speaker, I'm changing right now." It's not her intention but she'll know Anakin'll get a kick out of that.

"Are you now?"

Then, an incredibly erotic idea falls into her head. As she speaks to Anakin she snaps a picture of herself, she's not wearing anything but the photo stops right above her breasts. They were still very noticeable so she could tease him perfectly. A pout is settled on her face as her hair frames the seductive expression. She sends it and keeps talking like nothing nefarious is happening behind the scenes.

When he stops talking she does too, a smirk making its way onto her face. "Something wrong, Ani?" She's never used the nickname before, but it feels like the right moment to start.

"Fuck, Y/n. You're gonna kill me. I want you so fucking bad, oh my god." His voice is deep and strained.

She ignores the way her body reacts to that as she replies, "Whe are you gonna be here? I miss you."

"Mm, I miss you too, I'll be there in an hour. Be ready for me, yea?” The double meaning of his words tingles up her spine.

She checks herself over in the mirror, the small two piece barely covered anything. Her cleavage couldn't be on more of a display, especially since she paired it with her favorite push-up bra. The small, red, pleated skirt didn't even cover half of her ass, and she paired that with a matching lace thong.

The text that he was waiting for her outside came sooner than she expected so she threw on some baggy clothes and grabbed her things. Making her way to him.

Shocking to nobody, once she sat in his passenger seat he was on her. Hand on her neck as he pressed a searing kiss on her welcoming lips. It would've gone on longer if she didn't remind him of where they were going.

"You're so lucky my game saved you, I don't think I could've held myself back after that photo you sent." He threatened, pulling out of the parking lot. "Don't threaten me with a good time." She replies, taking his free arm into both of hers. She practically hugged him the entire way there.

"You wait in the stands for me, okay? I'll be looking for you." Anakin said, closing the gap between them again.

"Good luck."

As she sat on the lowest bench of the stand, a chill ran up her spine at the thought of what was going to happen once the game was over. The feeling tripled as she spotted him. The look on his face causing a blush to grow on her cheeks.

The game started soon after that, she never really paid attention to sports, so she didn't really know what was going on. She knew enough to get her by, though. She watched him closely, watched as he bulldozed the opposing players. He was one of the tallest on the team so he stood out well. It was unbelievably hot, she couldn't deny the way her thighs clenched together. She was more than ready for the game to be over.

During one of the breaks, he jogs up to the fence next to the stairs of the stands. Calling her over with a nod and a smile. His helmet hung on one of his fingers as he waited for her. "You're doing great." She tells him, smiling proudly.

"It's all because of you, my love." He lightly pants, leaning over the fence to kiss her. Though he tastes like sweat, she didn't mind. The opposite actually, it turned her on even more. And when they split he could see the gleam in her eyes. "As soon as I win this thing we can get outta here, how does that sound?" He moved his damp curls from his face as he spoke, it added to his undeniable sex appeal.

"Sounds good, I'll wait at the car for you afterward." Her hand reaches out to rub at his sticky biceps.

He nods before giving her one last kiss and running back to the field. She gulps, hands sweaty as she sits back down. No doubt having some eyes on her after all that.

She watches him again, this time he's carrying the ball to the other side of the field. The final touchdown of the night. He wins for their team and everyone there loses their mind. Anakin's team surges towards him in awe, she could hardly hear her own thoughts as everyone around her screams and yells. She's immensely proud of him , the need to congratulate him was strong at that point. She realizes though, with everyone jumping around her, she can't see the field. So, she stands on the bench and searches for him. A large smile on her face as she spots him. Watching him so happy made her heart flutter.

As she watches the teams leave the field she clambers down from the bench and makes a B-line for his car. She isn't waiting for long as he tries his best to get through the crowd. The second they meet he's engulfing her smaller frame, her arms wrap around his neck as they kiss probably for the 20th time that day. He's sweaty under the clothes he changed back into, it only makes her wanna take them off.

Anakin presses her back into his car's door, momentarily forgetting where they are. Y/n taps his shoulder as the sound of people talking get closer.

"You did amazing, I'm so proud of you." She praises, pressing another kiss on him.

"All thanks to you, my good luck charm. Do you wanna head outta here?" He smiles, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. She nods before slipping out from under him and getting in the passenger side, telling him to drive to her place. The ride there was pure tension, she played with his calloused hands and praised him more as they neared closer and closer to her building. Neither of them addressed the very obvious pent-up sexual tension suffocating them. Opting for letting it grow--thrive. It would pay off in a matter of time.

Her shutting the apartment door behind her signaled for Anakin to throw his self-control out of the window. He walked her backward with tight hands on her waist as they made out through her apartment, trying to get to her bedroom. Once there, he plants a firm hand on her chest and pushes her down to her bed. The sight of her looking up at him, waiting for him to please her caused more blood to navigate south within him.

“Ever since I saw your cute little room I wanted to do this. Wanted to take you in the most disgusting way possible, see you sob against your pink sheets, all because of me.” He confessed, lowering himself to hover over her.

She couldn’t deny the way that made her feel, all of her ex’s made her feel like a dumb child when they saw her room. So she felt her panties dampen and her thighs rub together at his words. Anakin smirks when he notices the movement. “You like that, Cutie? You like when I talk to you like that?” He leans in to kiss her, cutting off her answer. His skillful tongue licks into her mouth, practically going down her throat the harder he becomes. The kiss is ended with a harsh suck to her tongue.

The man above her continues his assault across her jawline and below her ear, where he begins to get messy with his kisses. He sucks and nibbles all the way down to her collarbones, where he deems she’s wearing too much clothing.

“Take off your shirt for me, Cutie.”

This is it, she gulps as she takes hold of the hem of her shirt and drags it off—showing off the top half of her skimpy cheer costume. He loudly sucks in a breath before pushing her chest back down to the bed and forcefully taking off her pants himself. He throbs in his jeans at seeing the entirety of what she’s wearing.

“What’s all this, baby?” He bites his lip, his hands roaming her exposed skin. A seductive grin takes ahold of his lips as he drinks her in.

“You said you needed a cheerleader, didn’t you?”

“Fuck.” He mumbles, gripping her knees to spread her legs accordingly. Anakin eyes the thong she’s wearing and makes a mental note to stuff them in his pant’s pocket when he gets them off of her. He slots himself in between her welcoming thighs, erection pressing hotly against her clothed cunt. The kisses that were stopped along her collarbones moments ago start up again, now more urgent.

“God, you’re so sexy. All mine too. My little cheerleader.” He breaths against her, making his way down to her cleavage. Nips and sucks are felt at the exposed skin of her breasts, her hips press upwards at that, wanting to feel him. The material of her shirt is pushed up over her bra, then hands snake up her spine to unclasp that too. She shimmies down the straps so he can throw the item behind him.

“I knew you’d have perfect tits.”

He doesn’t waste a second to lick around one of her nipples, taking it in his mouth after a second. A hand gropes the breast that isn’t in his mouth and the other is splayed over the side of her thigh, moving up to grab as much of her ass as it can.

“Anakin.” She moans, arching her back slightly. Her thighs clamp down around his waist, it feeds into the desire that’s beginning to take over his mind. He ruts his hips into her, both of them moaning at the contact. The smell of her arousal floats between both of them, it has him groaning before harshly thrusting against her. “Smell so good, gotta have a taste.” He pulls away, lowering to his knees before she stops him.

“Wait, Anakin. I can’t wait any longer, please—please, fuck me.”

His forehead meets her knee, his teeth pierce his lower lip as he shutters out a breath. “My little cheerleader is such a slut for me already, hm?”

The shirt that clung to his body is taken off, in the sexiest way possible, as well as his pants. Soon, he’s left in his boxers, his very obvious erection strains against the fabric. “Come here.” He grabs her waist as he slides onto the sheets, maneuvering her just the way he wants until she’s propped up on him. His back lays against her pillows as he slips her panties to the side, her leaking cunt pressed deliciously against his clothed cock.

“I can feel how fucking wet you are, is that all for me, Cutie?”

She tries to pay attention to him speak, but the sight of him, abs all sweaty below her, causes her brain to short circuit. “Don’t tell me you’re already all dumb for me.” He hotly stares at her, hand reaching out to grab her chin, making sure she’s looking him in the eye. “I asked you a question.”

She stares with wider hazy eyes, “It’s all for you, Ani. Need you so bad.” She whines, panting already.

He smirks at her state, loving the way she reacts to him. “Show me then, Cutie. Rub your wet little pussy on my cock and I might just fuck you with it.” His eyes are back to the intense ones she knows so well. But this time, he can visibly see how bad they affect her. Taking in a deep breath, she places her shaky hands on his abs before moving her hips. A gasp is heard pretty quickly due to how hard he is, she wonders if it hurts at all.

Weirdly, he finds it that much hotter how her skirt covers where they meet.

“There you go, keep going.” He praises, watching her with lidded eyes. Her head hangs low as she grinds a little harder.

“Fuck.” He rasps, moving his hands to her hips.

Her clit catches his head and ridges a few times and it’s enough to pull a pornographic moan from her. They’re full-on dry humping now, she can even see a wet patch start to grow on his briefs when she pulls up her skirt, it makes him salivate. “I can’t wait any longer.” He groans out, stopping her movements. A hand on her waist keeps her in place as he pushes down his briefs a few inches to grip a hand around himself. Pearls of pre cum ooze down his head and it has her gulping.

“Ready, Cutie?”

Y/n nods, tossing her head back as Anakin runs his cock through her folds before pressing into her. She’s so wet that in one push he’s filled her to the brim. “Anakin.” She weakly moans out, leaning her body forward to push him impossibly deeper inside her.

“Shit, you’re so tight and wet for me. Just like I knew you’d be.”

“You’ve thought of this before?” She asks, knowing the answer. She just wants to hear his dirty words some more. “Of course, I have. Jerked off to the idea of this cute little pussy so many times. You’re better than I imagined.” Her lips quiver at that, it propels her into raising her hips and slamming them down as fast as she’s able to at that moment. The stretch of him is making her delirious, an insatiable hunger taking over her.

“Just like that, Cutie. Doing so good for me.” The praise has her clenching around him. She tries her best to keep a good pace but it’s proving to be difficult, her thighs burn as her body forces her to slow down. The man under her takes notice and grips her waist, sitting up and laying her down beneath him.

He throbs inside of her impatiently, so he grabs her thighs and pushes them closer to her chest, both of them moan at the new angle. The way he’s now kissing her cervix has her turn to pure putty in his hands. “There you go, you’re my dumb little baby, aren’t you? Have I fucked you stupid?” He calls out, eyeing the way she reacts. A smirk finds it’s way on his face as she tries to answer but fails. The grip he has on her thighs tightens as he feels her clench, the fluttering doesn’t stop so he guesses she's close.

Her hand tip toes down to her clit to messily rub, she doesn’t care how or how fast, she just needs the stimulation.

“M’ gonna come.” She moans, tears welling in her eyes at his harsh pace and the words falling from his lips.

“Do it, Slut, come.” He growls, grinding his hips into hers. Anakin watches her face closely as she finishes around him, then he backs up to peak down at the way his cock fills her up to the brim.

“There you go.”

Y/n lazily smiles as he slows down to a stop.

“Don’t think I’m done with you, yet.” He tells her, pulling out to flip her over onto her stomach. His strong hands pull her ass up, pushing her legs apart with his knee. “You look so good like this, pussy ready for me.” His voice is low and gravelly, it has her dripping.

—

The next morning she awoke to the unusual smell of bacon. A hand splays out on the spot next to her, it’s cold. Cracking open an eye, she notices the bed is empty. “Anakin?” Her groggy voice asks to the open air. There’s no response so she pushes herself to her feet, noticing she’s in her panties and what looks like Anakin’s shirt.

Traversing through her apartment, she spots the kitchen and rubs her eyes. Anakin’s tussled hair and toned back was the first thing she saw, “Anakin?”

His ears perk up. Turning around, he smiles, “Good morning, about time you woke up. I was just about to come get you.” He walks over to her, settling his hands on her hips and placing a loving kiss to her cheek. “I made breakfast, go sit down.” He nods to the table. “I didn’t know you were so motherly.” She smiles, sitting down at a chair.

“Just for you.” He murmurs, getting out cups.

Eating breakfast beside him was odd, not in a bad way though. Waking up to him was truly the best feeling. “What time do you work today?” He asks, shoveling the last of his food in his mouth.

“Uhh 4, and tomorrow the shop isn’t open.”

“Oh, so I get you the whole day? I’m honored.” He says as they both get up to put dishes in the sink. Hands on the counter, she turns around to face him. He gladly leans in and traps her between him and the surface, the kiss they shared was sweet, it made her heart swell.

“I should go back to my place to get cleaned up. I’ll miss you.” He punctuates that with a kiss, or two, or three. She giggles in return, teasingly pushing him away as he goes back for more. “When I come back you better be in the same outfit, you look amazing in my clothes.” He leans into her ear to say, playfully nipping at her neck. “Anakin…” She laughs.

—

A few days have passed, Y/n sits at her desk doing her homework as she gets a call. She recognizes that it’s associated with her university. She answers it and her jaw drops. Her painting was accepted into the art show. She springs up from her bed and squeals when the call is over. The first thing she thinks of is telling Anakin, but, maybe it would be better if it was a surprise.

“Anakin it’s a school night.”

“We’re adults, Y/n. We’re not in middle school anymore, plus it’ll be fun.” He tries persuading her. Currently his friends and him are going to see a movie, it’s about 9:00 so Y/n is a little worried. She hums from over the phone in thought, “Fine, is your car even big enough for all of us?” She asks, playing with the strings of her sweat pants.

“I’ll pick you up and we’ll meet them there, don’t worry.” Y/n hums again.

“I’ll be there in 15 minutes, okay?”

“Okay.”

As he pulls up to her building, he can’t help but be nervous as well. His friends can be a little…intense, and he knows Y/n is the opposite of that. But he really wants his girlfriend and his friends to meet.

“Hey, Beautiful. I missed you.” He smiles, leaning in to leave a peck on her lips.

“I missed you too, what movie are we watching?”

“The new insidious, it looks really good.”

“A scary movie? You should’ve warned me, I’m gonna embarrass myself even more in front of your friends.” Her doe eyes stare in worry at him, causing his heart to squeeze. “Y/n no, I promise it’ll be okay. If it gets too scary I can..distract you. I’m pretty good at that.” He smiles, driving off. Of course, he would say that.

Y/n wipes her clammy hands on her jeans, remembering how the boys were in the flower shop.

Her boyfriend eyes her from his seat, eyebrows furrowed. "Hey, if this is too much for you we can go back. It's up to you." He grabs at her hands, looking her sincerely in the eyes after he parks. "No no, I'll be fine." He smiles at her, giving her a loving kiss before opening his door. The wind whips her hair in her face as she stands, soon hearing the loud chattering of, who she assumes, are his friends. There's about 4 of them, they're already laughing and pushing each other when they reach the two. They do their guy greeting before turning to her. One of them speaks up first, "You must be Y/n, we've heard a lot about you."

"Oh, good things I hope." She nervously smiles, migrating to holding onto Anakin's hand, she grips it like it's her lifeline. The group quickly starts chatting together, Y/n, obviously, the odd one out. The only thing keeping her from running away was Anakin. As they got their tickets and stood in line for snacks, he wrapped a protective arm around her waist. "What do you want?" He asks, referring to what snacks she wants.

A thoughtful expression is seen on her face as she looks over the food. "Can I get the gummy worms? Oh and a blue slushee." She says, pointing to it on the menu. The cashier types in the order, asking if that's all. He nods, paying for you both, his friends order right after. "I'll pay you back, how much was it?" She starts digging through her purse for her wallet. "Y/n, you don't have to pay me back." He shakes his head, smiling affectionately at her.

"Dude, I didn't know you were so sappy." One of his friends laughs, of course, they all start laughing at him. Except one, she doesn't know his name but she knows she doesn't like him. The way his eyes undress her makes her feel dirty and exposed. The 3 pounds of drinks, popcorn, and candy they get is dispersed amongst them. Since they are college boys, they pick the seats way at the back of the theater. She doesn't mind too much though, having Anakin with her soothes her nerves.

As she sits down, Anakin sits to her left, and to her dismay, the one friend sits to her right. The tension the guy brings has her scooting closer to her boyfriend.

Sitting through the ads was tough, she couldn't constantly keep talking to Anakin since he was talking to his friends, so she had to sit there, eating the popcorn that sat in Anakin's lap.

The lights dimmed as she reached for him, clasping one of his hands in between both of hers.

During the movie she had the weirdest feeling of being watched, it chilled her more than the cold theater air. Or, maybe not. She didn't realize how cold it was until right now.

"Anakin, I'm gonna get my jacket from your car, can you give me your keys?" She whispers.

He nods, digging in his pocket and giving her them. Carefully, she gets up, avoiding knocking into everyone's legs as she sidesteps through the aisle.

Moments later when she turns around from locking the car again, jacket in hand. She spots Anakin, his friends, and a security guard outside by the doors. Eyebrows furrowing, she gets closer, the security guard then goes inside, leaving the rest of the men. "What happened? Are you okay?" She noticed one of the guys with a busted lip and bloody nose.

"Let's go, Y/n." Her boyfriend says sternly, dragging her back to the car by the hand. "Anakin? You're scaring me."

Once they sat in the car, her body turned towards him, "Anakin." She says again, waiting for an explanation. The man sighs, rubbing his hands over his face before muttering. "I punched Cody." She's not sure who that is, but she guesses it's the one with the bleeding nose and lip. "What? Why? I thought you were friends."

He sighs again, looking over at you. "He was saying some stuff about you, that I won't repeat. I couldn't control myself after that, then we got kicked out." Y/n was stunned, what could've he possibly said about her that made Anakin so blood thirsty? "Oh." She was obviously a little hurt, not by him, but by the friend. She thought she was doing a good job at talking to them.

"Don't let him get you down, though. You mean so much to me, Y/n, More than I can put into words, let's go home." He runs a hand through his hair before reversing out of his parking space, a stern look still on his face.

That night when they got to her house, he changed into the clothes he brought over and clung to her. They were both on their sides facing each other in bed, her head pressed into his chest, and a firm arm was around her waist.

"Y/n."

"Hm?"

"Look at me."

She does as he requested and tipped her head up, locking eyes with him even through the darkness. His hand on her waist drifts up to comb through the hair beside her ear, before resting on her neck to pull her lips to his properly.

"I love you." He breaths against her mouth, kissing her once more.

"You do?" She asks, reaching up to press her hand onto his. Nobody except her parents has told her that before, especially with the pure adoration that Anakin held. "Of course, I do. The first time I ever saw you, you ran me over with your painting. I was hooked from the beginning." He smiles, rubbing her cheek with his thumb.

Her eyes widen, "That was you?"

"Yes, and I couldn't be more happy about it." He spoke so close to her lips, they brushed against each other after each word. "I love you too." She responds, initiating the last kiss before they sleep. After that, they broke apart so Anakin could lean his head on top of hers, listening to her breathing slow as she falls asleep.

Getting through her classes was tough, there was only one more day until the art show. Y/n tried her best not to think too much about it, though.

"Here, Cherry. Here, Bear." She calls, putting food into their dishes. As she sits and pets them while they eat, her mind drifts to what Anakin's reaction might be to seeing his own eyes on display. She can only hope it doesn't weird him out, he's her first boyfriend since her Junior year of high school. He even told her he loves her. But, she knew if he did have an adverse reaction to it, she would understand. Her head lay on her knee as she processes all of her emotions at once.

That day at the shop the bell rang, signaling a customer.

"Welcome in..." She trails off. "Anakin, what are you doing here?" Y/n gasps, eyes sparkling. The man smiles while shrugging. "Just looking around, I suppose." She hums, "Let me know if you need any help, okay?" He nods at her words, stepping around an aisle. It doesn't take him too long to pick out what he's looking for.

He places down a singular rose, readying his wallet. "Alright, that'll be $1.25." He hums in return, plucking out 2 one dollar bills. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay? I'll miss you." Anakin tells her as she gives him his change. "I'll miss you more, Ani." They cement their words with a kiss and then he leaves, waving at her as he does so.

—

Her hands visibly shake when she steps up to his car, it’s already dark outside so she hopes he can’t see. Y/n decided to wear a nice looking dress, she thought it would be nice since her art is in the show n all. “Wow, you look amazing. If you change your mind and wanna stay home tonight just lemme know.” He jokes.

“Tempting.” She smiles back as they finish greeting each other.

“I gotta grab my jacket from the trunk, one second.” He says as he pops the trunk open. A moment later he’s running back, half of his body is outside the car he leans inside. "For you." The red rose he bought from her in his hand, the smile that erupts onto her face has her cheeks hurting.

“Anakin, you’re so sweet.”

“Whoops sorry, here’s the rest.” She looks at him confused before he moves fully in front of the open door, a large bouquet of roses sit in his hands.

Instead of her usual sweet reply, she stares at him as he sits down in the driver's seat, the roses taking up quite a bit of space. Her eyebrows are furrowed as her mouth is still open in awe. She tries to stop the feeling of tears but it’s no use, they well up in her eyes and begin to drip and trickle down her cheek.

“Don’t cry, Cutie.” His eyes soften at her.

She gains some courage to reach out and grab the flowers, looking down at them with her, now, very wet cheeks. “You really didn’t have to.” She sniffles, wiping her tears and nose with her sleeve. “I wanted to, I love you, Y/n.”

She sniffles once more, “I love you too. Thank you.” Anakin’s not sure whether she’s thanking him for the flowers or his feelings towards her, but it makes him feel good either way. During the ride she decides to put the flowers in the back, the need to hold onto him after that was strong.

“Where are we going first?” They see a bunch of people around the school, not sure where the official entrance is.

She looks around at the outside venue before pointing to the place she wants to start looking around, knowing her piece is the opposite way.

It was unbelievably nice to look around and chat about the art pieces, some are statues, clay, and of course, paintings. Now, the moment she’s been dwelling on. She spots her painting a few feet down. “Wow, these paintings are so pretty.” Y/n says, trying to make it seem like something wasn’t eating her up inside. The natural speed of their walking, and brief stops, finally brought them to her painting. A sign in front of it spells out his name as the name of the piece, and her name as the author is right under it. Anakin’s hand on her back rubs her clothed skin, as it has been on and off for the past hour. His fingers feel like fire through her dress.

Her senses are heightened, the sound of the ground under their feet, the chatting of people around them, and the wind is all very loud. Her heart beat especially.

She doesn’t say anything as they walk in front of her section. “Heh, this looks like the eyes you always draw.” She gulps at his observation, waiting for him to read the sign. In a confused voice, he lets out a “Y/n..?” As he stares at the vivid blue on the canvas and the sign that has his name as the title of the painting, it all hits him at once. She can’t possibly look at him, she’s already having trouble regulating her breathing. But, he grips her and spins her to face him.

“This..is yours?” He pauses, eyes full of emotion. “You were drawing me? All those sketches I saw..were me?” He searches her eyes for something, anything in the moment.

“I’m sorry if you find it creepy-.” She begins explaining herself, but he cuts her off. “Y/n, no. I love it, more than I can express.” He never imagined anyone would do this, would ever take such an interest in him more than his physical abilities and attractiveness.

“I can’t believe it. Come here.” He says, taking her to a less populated area. Once they’re there, he grabs her face gently. His eyebrows are knit together as tears well in his eyes. “Y/n, I, I never thought I’d meet someone like you. Thank you for loving me."

It didn’t very long for them to make their way to her bed once more, this time was different though. She felt it in the air, in the way he pressed loving kisses to the expanse of her skin. The dress she’s wearing is bunched around her hips as he lays in between them, kissing down her thighs.

“Gonna make you feel good, Cutie.”

His nose nudges her clothed cunt, it has her hips stuttering upwards. He smiles as he carefully prods her with his tongue over her panties, soon settling on her clit to suckle lazily. "Anakin." She whines, the teasing becoming too much for her. Her boyfriend smiles before moving up to the waistband, kissing sultry kisses into her skin and the fabric, it ends with him nipping at the clothing and tugging it down her body with just his teeth. She hopes she doesn't go into cardiac arrest because of him.

His large hands grip her thighs, throwing them over his shoulder and spreading her wide with two fingers. "Such a pretty pussy for me, Cutie." He mumbles into her as he licks firmly up her slit to her clit. Her back reacts first, then her hands get lost in his hair. She's never been eaten out before, the feeling coupled with the perpetrator being Anakin made her mind fuzzy. He eases his tongue inside of her, licking around before he groans. The vibrations pulling a loud moan from Y/n.

"I knew you'd taste good, so perfect for me."

His praise added a new layer of heat to her face and chest, the dress she was wearing suddenly very hot. Anakin narrowed in on her clit, his finger pulled back the hood so he could suck purely on the bundle of nerves. A choked whine leaves her, her back arches fully at the sensitivity. The liquid fire in her gut spreads like lava as she unexpectedly comes, the moans are stuck in her throat as she processes the euphoria flowing through her. His sucking becomes gentler as he prolongs her orgasm.

"You did so good for me, Baby. God, you drive me crazy. You see what you do to me?" He hotly asks, pushing his jeans down enough to grip his erection through his briefs. An ache settles in her pelvis, the need to be filled becoming almost unbearable. "I need you, Anakin. Feel so empty without you." His eyes close for a second before he fully undresses, soon doing the same to her as she pushes the material of her dress up and over her head. The both of them feeling the effects of the other person.

He pushes in and leans down, catching her lips in a kiss. "I love you, Y/n." She mutters back the sentiments, eyes rolling to the back of her head at the initial stretch of him. The veins that line his shaft are felt through her tight walls, it drives her crazy.

"Fuck, so tight for me." He mumbles, dropping so their bodies are pressed flush against each other. His head rests on her neck as he picks up his pace, rutting into her needly. Light lines of red come to life on his back due to her fingernails, the pressure only drives him further into her. The only other sound besides their mixed moaning and groaning is the squelching from how wet she is, Y/n bites her lip in embarrassment, and Anakin's hips stutter.

"So wet for me, love this pussy so much."

A layer of sweat forms between their bodies as he keeps going, and a hand drifts down between them to rub at her clit. His thumb keeps up with his thrusting, only rubbing faster when she cries out. “Gonna come for me, Cutie?” He breathes heavily, planting deep kisses against her neck and chest.

She nods quickly, clinging onto him. “So close for you.” Her voice is a tad hoarse as she speaks up.

“Let go, need to feel you.”

His plead pushes her off the edge. Her hips do as they please and buck up into him, plunging him deep into her. Fireworks set off behind her closed eyelids and her brain lulls to a stop, letting the overwhelming feeling take over her limbs as they shake. Just as she comes out of it a loud groan sounds from him, “Mm, Baby, where do you want me?”

“In me, please come inside me.”

The idea of coming inside her ends it all for him, dirty thoughts and images run through his mind a mile a minute as he shoves himself as deep as he can go. The warmth of him finishing in her has zaps of electricity shooting up and down her spine.

“You did so good, Y/n.” He pants from above her, leaning down to give her a sweet kiss before he pulls out. The sight after he does is picture-worthy, his come leaks out of her and it almost makes Anakin hard again. A moment passes before he takes his middle and ring finger and pushes the rest back inside of her.

“You’re so pretty with my come leaking out of you, my little tortured artist.”

She chuckles out of breath before he speaks up again.

"I know this probably isn't the right time, but y'know how you helped with my botany homework?"

Her eyebrows draw together curiously, "Yes..why?"

"Well, I actually wasn't failing, I had an A in that class but I just wanted an excuse to talk to you more."

Her eyes grow wide at that, an incredulous smile on her face. "Seriously?"

He shrugs, "It worked, didn't it?"

#anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker fanfic #star wars smut #star wars x reader #star wars fanfic #hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen x reader #darth vader smut #darth vader x reader #darth vader fanfic

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dhart4214 · 4 months

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SO CAL COLLEGE BASKETBALL 2024: My Look At Selected Teams

Pauley Pavilion on December 30th, when a record sellout crowd of over 13,600 saw 2nd-ranked UCLA’s and 6th-ranked USC’s women’s basketball teams engage in an epic Crosstown Rivalry Clash – which I attended, sitting in the lower left corner in a blue cap. Photo courtesy of twitter.com MY PEEK AT SOME OF THE COLLEGE HOOPS TEAMS IN SO CAL, STARTING WITH THE TWO TEAMS CONSIDERED BY FAR (in mine and…

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wandasfifthwife · 3 months

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tried to say goodbye, but it’s hot and heavy (18+)

CEO!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

tw: Natasha’s strap is referred to as her “dick” a few times lmao, reader is referenced to have a v/ be wearing a dress/called “sweet girl,” strap in v sex, exhibition kink sorta?, established relationship, dom/top!Natasha, sub/bottom!reader

a/n: not proofread sorry pookies, my crusty college ass said not rn. title is from Britney’s song Inside Out, ALSO, translation. Милая (milaya) means sweetheart 🤍 (which would be you if you’d just be my valentines). Anyways, please enjoy this!!! (Forgive me if it’s terrible)

“Okay,” she says, putting the car in park, “goodnight, milaya.”

She pulls you in for a kiss, one that you return eagerly. Something about you had her deepening the kiss. Her lips on yours had started something within her. Something that had her deepening the kiss. That had you crawling over the center console to climb onto her lap. Her hands coming to rest on the back of your thighs.

You shrug your jacket off, already overheating from the car’s temperature and her body being so close to yours. She fills up your wait, pressing you closer to press open mouthed kisses to your neck.

“You drive me insane,” she whispers. Her hot breath hits your sensitive skin and a whispered “Please” slips out between your kiss bitten lips.

“How do you want me to touch you?”

You tilt your head down to look into her eyes, “take me how you want.”

She reaches beside her, pulling a switch that reclines the seat back instantly. The action pulls you from the situation, causing you to grow a bit shy.

Natasha smiles, “getting shy, milaya?”

“Stop talking.”

Her hand cups your cheek, “gonna fuck you until all you can think about is me.”

A shiver wracks your body when her cold hands slide up the inside of your thighs. Your body is leaned over hers, arms resting over the seat.

“Going to take this off, ok baby?” 

You nod, and she takes it off, flinging it behind her. She surges forward, her lips finding yours. You let out a small sound, hands pulling at her hair. She brings your hips to grind onto her thigh, pulling a gasp from your lips.

“Need you sweet girl,” she says, fingers finally coming to make contact with your arousal. Natasha watches every movement, like how your legs shake when she purposefully thrusts her fingers deeper. Your hands rush to cover your mouth at the feeling of her tip rubbing on your folds.

Your voice shakes, “When did—?”

She doesn’t care to answer, instead focusing on using what space she has to thrust her hips into you. Your head falls back, one hand over your mouth and the other scratching into her shoulder. She grinds your hips on her, taking pleasure in the whines that slip out despite your effort to conceal them.

“Fuck,” she sighs, “taking my dick so well, aren’t you?”

Your eyes begin to water as tears formed on the edges. In the back of your mind you think you hear footsteps nearby, but it fades quickly at the feeling of Natasha’s thumb on your clit. She hears them as well, looking and spotting them in the rearview windows.

She leans forward, taking your hand off your mouth and replacing it with hers. The look in her eyes directing at you has you clenching around her. Your eyes roll back as she grinds your hips on her dick.

“These people have no idea what’s happening in the car beside them. They don’t know how much of a mess you are for me right now.”

You whine, her hand pressing tighter against your face, “if they found out, baby. Do you think they’d be turned on at how wet you are right now? Stretched around me?”

She removed her hand from your mouth, waiting.

“Please,” you babble, “please— oh.”

“Go ahead, milaya.”

You come with a loud whine, the sound barely muffled from her hand. The people nearby glance over, and Natasha wants to laugh. She strokes your cheek with her thumb as you come down from your high, your mind beginning to clear.

“I think they heard us.”

“Stop,” you groan into her chest, “that’s so embarrassing.”

She laughs this time, the sound causing you to smile and laugh as well. You cringe at the sweat on your bodies and the smell of sex in her car.

“Stay over tonight?”

She accepts the invitation, reaching behind you to shut the car off. She slides out, causing you to momentarily wince from the action. You both tried to make yourself look decent enough to walk back to your apartment on 4th floor.

It was hard when Natasha kept pulling you in for a kiss at almost every opportunity; the elevator, your entryway, your bedroom to where she had you pushed against the shower wall.

“Need you,” she pants.

“Then take me.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x reader smut #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x fem!reader #natasha romanov x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #Natasha x fem!reader smut #ceo!natasha #ceo!natasha x reader #top!natasha #top Natasha #bottom reader #bottom!reader #dom!natasha #x sub!reader #sub reader #dom Natasha #sub!reader

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stllmnstr · 4 months

Text

every fragile thing

genre: figure skater au, college au, enemies to lovers, angst and fluff

pairing: park sunghoon x f reader

word count: 12.3k

soundtrack: jealousy, jealousy / brutal / the grudge / get him back! / good 4 u - olivia rodrigio

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After an ankle injury lands you in weekly physical therapy sessions instead of on the ice where you should be training for regionals, you’re certain you must be the most emotionally volatile figure skater within a hundred mile radius. Park Sunghoon proves you wrong.

or,

every fragile thing has one of two choices: become stronger or shatter into a million pieces.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Silence. One word, two syllables. A fairly straightforward term with a meaning that can be easily deduced from a quick scan of its Merriam-Webster definition.

But unlike many words, silence is one that’s typically learned through experience. Through stilted beats, pregnant pauses, dreamlike moments in the dead of night while the world around you is at a standstill.

In the moments just before the music starts, when it feels as if the audience around you is holding their breath. And you stand at the center of it all, blades of your tightly laced skates against ice, chest rising and falling in time with your heartbeat, mind spinning with possibility. In those moments, your long trained muscles take over, following the memory of countless repetitions as your body prepares to do what it knows best.

There’s a question in that silence. One that’s asked with baited breath.

Will I land this skill? Will I go home with a medal around my neck, cold weight a familiar comfort against my skin? Will this be my best performance yet? Will they love it? Love me?

That, as you’ve come to learn, is your favorite kind of silence. The kind that’s filled with endless possibility, with the promise of something beautiful or disastrous or some odd mix of the two to come.

The feeling of freedom, of flying as blade cuts through ice, as your body defies gravity with every jump, every spin.

But that is very much not the kind of silence that greets you where Dr. Min eyes you warily over the top of his pristine clipboard, a crease forming between his dark eyebrows. Frowning, he glances at the paper once more before returning his gaze to you.

“You’re sure you’ve been resting? No weight on the fracture at all?”

It takes a good chunk of your willpower not to roll your eyes. Mostly because you’re lying through your teeth, but who’s keeping track?

“Yes, I’m sure.” Gesturing to the thick black boot the lower part of your left leg and foot have been imprisoned in for the better part of a month, you add, “This thing’s still coming off in two weeks, right?”

Two weeks is pushing it, but you’ve done more with less. Two weeks puts you exactly three months out from regionals, which gives you exactly ninety-one days to pull together the most jaw dropping program you or the judges have ever seen. One that’s certain to land you on the podium and secure a spot at nationals.

Once again, you thank your lucky stars for Coach Lee. She’s been with you since you were still struggling to lace your own skates, and there’s no one else you’d trust to have you ready for regionals in such a short time frame. No one else you’d bet your fate on like this.

“That was our original time frame, yes…” Dr. Min trails off, avoiding your gaze in a way that has your stomach dropping unpleasantly.

“And we’ll be sticking to it, I’m sure.” You hate the way the end of your phrase turns up like a question.

Dr. Min sighs. “Look, ___, our original time frame was ambitious to begin with, and I hate to tell you this, but your ankle is not healing as well as we’d hoped. Fractures don’t heal overnight, and the best thing for you right now is rest.”

The argument is already forming on your tongue. “But—”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m not trying to ruin your life, ___. Truly. I’m saying this to you as the parent of an athlete and a former athlete myself. Pushing yourself now will only lead to reinjury in the future and will also very likely shorten your career. Your ankle needs to heal before you skate on it again. It needs to heal before you so much as put weight on it. And you need to let it heal completely.” The sincerity in his voice is hard to stomach when he says, “Believe me when I tell you that you’ll regret it for the rest of life if you don’t.”

And logically, you know he’s right. Know that this will be nothing but a minor setback if you allow it to run its course. If you follow his advice to rest and heal. But skating has never been something you’ve done with the logical parts of yourself. And Dr. Min doesn’t get it. You tell him as much. “You don’t understand what you’re asking me to do. Regionals are in less than four months, and—”

“I hear you. Believe me, I do. But this is your third year of university, which means you have another shot at nationals next year. If you push it and try to skate before you’re ready, you may very well lose that chance.”

“So I’m supposed to do what? Sit around and do nothing until my ankle decides to cooperate?” Even voicing the possibility has you suppressing a grimace.

But Dr. Min has different thoughts. “Yes. That is exactly what you need to do.”

You don’t avert your gaze. Neither does he. Finally, after a moment, he sighs. “My recommendation at this point is still rest, but—”

“But?” Your excitement is impossible to contain fully.

Dr. Min levels you with a cautionary look over his clipboard. “But, if you’re going to do anything, our athletics department does also run a physical therapy program, which I think could be beneficial. It would help to retain flexibility, mobility, and agility in the areas of your leg that support your ankle. It could help get you back on the ice faster and maintain the leg strength you’ve built. There’s a group session that runs on Tuesday afternoons—”

“Yes,” you nod, not bothering to hear the end of his statement. “Yes, I’ll do that.”

“I… okay.” As much as you want to hate him for it, Dr. Min has a point. And while you doubt physical therapy will be anywhere near as grueling as your usual workouts, it sounds a hell of a lot better than doing nothing.

…

You’ve never liked hospitals. The odd juxtaposition of white, lifeless sterility and a culmination of some of life’s most painful moments has always left an unpleasant taste on your tongue.

It’s one that has you double checking the address Dr. Min forwarded to you as you enter the oddly cheerful building that is apparently home to a renowned athletics physical therapy facility. Despite the medical purpose, there’s a distinct liveliness that envelops the space.

The woman at reception informs you that this is indeed the right building and the session you’re attending has just begun in the room to your left.

Pausing at the door, you’re struck with a sudden timidness. A physical therapy group for athletes will obviously be filled with, well, athletes. And although you can’t speak too harshly on that particular subsect of people, being one yourself, they can be intimidating. It must be the competitiveness, you think. The drive to push, succeed, win that gives off such a distinct aura.

Steeling yourself with one last breath, you remind yourself that’s why you’re here. To get back to that version of you that has everyone else feeling a little shier. That version of you that eats, breathes, and sleeps with ice skates laced on your feet and visions of the top of a podium driving your every decision.

With determination straightening your brow, you push open the door.

And immediately find yourself grateful for the mental preparation as three heads snap in your direction.

Hitching your bag up an inch on your shoulder, you try not to melt under the sudden awkwardness. Thankfully, one of them is better at breaking ice than you.

“Hi,” the boy closest to you is the first to fill the silence. He’s all smiles where he gives you a friendly wave, moving a stray hair out of his eyes with a flick of his head as he tells you, “I’m Jungwon.”

You offer your name in return, trying on a smile to match his friendliness. You have a feeling it comes more naturally to him than it ever will to you, though.

Regardless, he offers an equally cheerful, “Nice to meet you.” Glancing over to where the second boy is moving through a series of stretches, Jungwon makes eye contact, silently telling him he’s up next.

Even mid-stretch, he acquiesces. “I’m Niki,” the second boy follows.

“And I’m Jake.” The last boy doesn’t need any prompting from Jungwon. Nodding towards the walking boot that covers the bottom half of your left leg, he glances at a similar one that he wears on his own. “Looks like we’re twins. Tore up my achilles pretty bad in my last soccer match,” he explains. “What about you?”

“Fractured my ankle,” you return, a rueful smile dragging your lips up. “Figure skater.”

“Ah, man.” Jungwon winces. “That sucks.”

You shrug, forcing a nonchalance you don’t feel. “No worse than a busted achilles.”

“That’s cool that you skate though,” Jake offers. “Kind of a funny coincidence, actually. There’s another—”

Whatever it is, he doesn’t get to finish the thought. At that moment, the door opens again, this time revealing a middle aged woman in a white physician’s coat. Her name tag reads Dr. Kim, and she introduces herself as such to you.

“Looks like everyone’s here, including our new member.” She gives another cursory nod in your direction. “Welcome again.” Glancing around, the instructor pauses. “Oh, wait. Except for—”

“I’m here, I’m here.” For the second time in the span of a minute, the door behind you opens. You don’t miss the glance that passes between Niki and Jake. You turn to face the new arrival, but his back is to you as he sets his bag down and begins the process of switching his shoes.

The way the new member enters with a dismissive wave of his hand and lack of proper greeting has you thinking tardiness is not an uncommon trait of his. Even from behind, you can feel the waves of arrogance he exudes. That seems to align more with your preconceived notions of athletes.

Studying him for another second, a sinking feeling of dread begins to build in the pit of your stomach. Long, dark hair. Unnaturally graceful movements, even if all he’s doing is digging through his bag. Tall stature, broad shoulders, long legs.

An athlete’s build through and through. Perfectly suited for the ice.

“Great.” Despite the statement, Dr. Kim’s tone is flat. “Well, we were just getting started and introducing ourselves since we have someone new joining us today.”

“Hi,” he offers, still fixated on his bag, yet to offer as much as a glance in your direction. If anything, it only serves as a confirmation of his identity. “I’m—” You don’t even need to hear him say it.

“Sunghoon?”

At that, he does finally look up.

Gaze locking with yours, a moment of confusion is quickly replaced by a furrow in his brow, the slight downturn of his lips. He’s not thrilled to see you either.

A beat passes.

Two.

Neither of you break eye contact.

The silence extends to the point of discomfort for all four onlookers, each of them hesitant to break the tension that’s rising by the second.

Finally, Dr. Kim takes a knife to the tension. “Do you two know each other?”

Park Sunghoon. Renowned figure skater at your rival university. Someone with such a natural knack for carving lines through ice that whispers of prodigy have been shadowing his footsteps since the minute he put them on a rink.

Someone with his head so far up his own ass you’re not sure how he can see half the time, much less keep his hair looking so perfect.

Oh, you know him alright.

“___?”

And it would seem he remembers you as well.

It also answers Dr. Kim’s question well enough.

“Ah, good.” It sounds like a question, like she’s hoping your acquaintance will be a positive thing instead of a disaster. You don’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. “The figure skating community is tight knit, I suppose.”

You suppress a scoff. That’s one word for it, you guess.

You remember when it felt that way to you, too. Before tight knit became too small. Back before university, when it felt like it was you and Park Sunghoon against the world, instead of against each other. Back when the two of you didn’t skate for opposing teams but instead were members of the same club. A time when you took the ice together, skated as partners until he—

You force your thoughts to stop in their tracks. Your blood pressure has spiked enough in the last few days, and thinking back on long days spent with Park Sunghoon will only send it skyrocketing again.

If anything, you’ll use this opportunity to practice perfecting your poker face for when you inevitably run into him at future competitions.

And future competitions means you need a healed ankle, not a bruised ego. And certainly not an unpleasant trip down memory lane.

Turning away from Sunghoon, you’re the first one to answer when Dr. Kim asks if you’re ready to get started.

“Yes,” you tell her, determination written across your brow, in the set of your shoulders, and perhaps most noticeably, in the way you avoid Sunghoon’s wandering gaze for the next two hours.

…

Without the rink, days are quick to meld into one another. It may be concerning, considering that you still have a set schedule of classes and homework to follow, but your life has revolved around training for so long that it’s hard to tell Mondays from Wednesdays without a set practice schedule.

Thankfully, you do still make it back to the clinic at the right time on the right day, this time for another session with Dr. Kim and your fellow band of broken athletes.

Including him.

Aside from the glaringly obvious exception, you’re not as bothered at the thought of returning as you feared you might be.

Jungwon, Niki, and Jake have proven themself pleasant enough company, and Dr. Kim seems to have built an understanding of how difficult it is to be forcibly removed from the sport you love. As such, she’s one of the least aggravating medical professionals you’ve spent time around.

“Hey,” Niki greets when you arrive. “Did you have a good weekend?”

You shrug. “Good enough. Mostly just catching up on homework.” Setting your bag down and switching out your shoes, you join him on the mat, beginning the series of warm-up stretches Dr. Kim instructed you through last week. “What about you?”

“Not too bad. I got some good news from my doctor, actually.” He switches legs in his stretch, and you’re almost envious of his flexibility. He’s a dancer, and an exceedingly good one at that. One with an unfortunate knee injury at the moment. “My x-rays are looking a lot better. He thinks I might be able to start easing back into regular use by next month.”

“That’s great,” you smile, even as a pang of jealousy stabs somewhere near your gut. “I’m really happy for you, Niki.”

“A month still feels like forever, though, doesn’t it?” He sighs. “I can’t remember the last time I was out of the studio for this long.”

Jungwon slides down onto the mat next to you, joining in on the stretch routine. “Consider yourself lucky, man. They told me at my last check-up that I probably won’t be able to do any jumping or kicks again for at least three months even though the fracture is already mostly healed.” He shakes his head. “No jumping or kicking,” he echoes, sarcasm dripping from every word. “You know, things that are super easy to avoid in taekwondo.”

“If it’s any consolation, I just got told that I’m gonna have to sit out of regionals this year. Which means I’ll have no way of qualifying for nationals.” You wonder how many times you’ll have to admit that particular reality to yourself before the sting starts to fade.

“That sucks.” Jake agrees, coming down to the mat and occupying the spot next to Niki. “I’ll probably have to sit for this entire season, too. I love my team, but it’s so frustrating watching them play when I know I could be an asset on the field.”

“That’s true.” You’re struck by a sudden wave of sympathy. “At least skating is an individual sport, so the only person I have to disappoint is myself.”

“Speaking of skating,” Jungwon sounds hesitant as he approaches the subject. “Do you and Sunghoon, uh…” he pauses for a moment in search of a neutral way of framing the unmistakable tension that surfaced the last time he saw the two of you together. “Do you two know each other?”

Grimacing internally, you suppose an explanation was bound to be solicited after your icy reunion. “We skate for rival universities.” Your gaze fixes on a spot on the ground. “And before college we used to, uh, we used to skate for the same club.”

The three boys share a glance. It’s hardly an explanation for the venom you said his name with but before they can press you further, the subject in question enters the room.

Again, he takes his time setting his bag down, getting his things ready. This time, he also pulls out an obnoxiously big pair of headphones, secures them over his ears before he bothers to turn around. Despite the fact that all three boys offer him friendly smiles and waves, he returns the gesture only with a tight smile, making his way to the mat on the opposite side of the room before he begins his stretch routine.

It’s a message that rings loud and clear. A frown passes between Jake, Jungwon, and Niki. It’s obvious to you, then, that you’re the reason he chose to set himself up as far away as physically possible.

So be it, you think, letting the slight roll right off of you. It’s not the first time he’s given you the cold shoulder for something he plays an equal part in, and you doubt it will be the last.

Besides, it will only make your sessions pass by quicker, if the burden of avoiding gazes and minimizing interactions falls on his shoulders instead of yours.

With nothing but a shrug, you adjust slightly, ensuring that the only view he has of you is of your back.

…

It’s a pattern that continues as physical therapy sessions start to become a regular routine in your week. Sunghoon, with his apparent disdain for anyone’s time but his own, is always the last to arrive. He also continues his habit of picking the spot in the room furthest away from you.

Despite the fact that you’d like to chalk it up to his social ineptitude alone, that explanation doesn’t track. Although there’s still a certain aura of aloofness that follows where he goes, it’s too often that you see him smiling at a joke cracked by Jake or sharing easy conversations with Jungwon and Niki.

Hell, he even interacts with Dr. Kim with a level of warmth you didn’t know was possible coming from him. If there’s any disdain in their conversations, he directs it all towards his right wrist. It’s why he’s here, you assume. Encased in a brace similar to the one you wear on your left ankle, his right forearm seems to be the reason for his attendance.

It’s hard to not be envious. While a wrist injury is nothing to scoff at, it doesn’t necessarily keep you off the ice. Not in the same way a fractured ankle does.

Refocusing your thoughts, you push the boy across the room firmly out of mind as Dr. Kim helps adjust you into the next stretch.

“How about now?” Dr. Kim pushes your spine a fraction of an inch further, pressure light but demanding. Before, this much flexibility would have been an easy request of your body, but lack of use has your muscles feeling tight. “Any tightness or pain?”

“No.” The bead of sweat on your brow begs to differ, as does the way the negation slipped through gritted teeth.

But you’re frustrated. Annoyed at the progress you’ve lost, at the new limits of your body, at the way you feel like a stranger in your own skin.

Across the room, you miss the flicker of annoyance that flits over Sunghoon’s features. Headphones on as always, you imagine you’re nothing more than a blip on his radar, a pesky intruder that’s easily ignored as long as he has his back to you.

“Hm,” Dr. Kim muses. “You’ve retained more flexibility than I expected.” She offers you a smile. “That’s a good thing, a sign of a quick recovery.”

You suppress a grimace. It should be a good thing. You should be recovering quickly. If only you could get your stupid body to cooperate.

Stealing another glance at the boy across the room, you can’t help the way a small burst of rage bubbles in your stomach. Prodigy. Why does he always get to be the anomaly, the exception to the rule? His injury is already less severe than yours, and he’s probably recovering quickly, too. Without even having to fake it.

Easing you out of the stretch, Dr. Kim jots down a quick note. “I’ll have Dr. Min run another x-ray at your next visit.” Nodding towards your ankle, she adds, “I think there’s a good chance that things are looking a lot better, and updated x-rays will help guide our next sessions.” She pauses for a minute. “I don’t want to get ahead of myself or get your hopes up, but I think we might be able to start putting some weight back on it soon. Start getting it stronger again.”

You’re hesitant to let your excitement grow too much. But it would be a lie if you weren’t already counting the days until your next visit with Dr. Min in your head. “Thank you,” you tell her. “I’ll hope those x-rays come back looking good, then.”

“Me too,” she smiles. “I’ll see you next week, then. Hopefully with good news.”

You nod, returning her smile before heading to the door to gather your things. Jungwon catches you on your way out.

“Hey, ___, hold on a sec.” When you turn back towards him, he tells you, “The rest of us are gonna grab lunch at a place nearby, if you want to join.”

Your uncertainty must write itself across your features, because he’s quick to add, “Don’t worry. Sunghoon won’t be there. He’s got a class right after this.”

Slightly embarrassed by the way he read you so easily, you nod. “Sure. Lunch sounds good.” Despite their friendliness with Sunghoon, you’ve come to like the three of them. And it’s been far too long since you broke up the monotony of class, homework, and medical appointments with something as simple as lunch with friends.

And as long as he’s not there, you imagine it will be nothing but pleasant.

It doesn’t take long for them to prove you wrong.

Niki barely lets you get one bite in before he asks, “So, what exactly happened between you two?” Even without the name, the question is obvious.

Still, after choking on the sip of water you’d been taking, you answer, “Who?”

Jake just gives you a look.

You sigh. “Like I said, we used to skate for the same club. We, uh, never really got along, I guess.” Avoiding eye contact, you add, “And now we skate for rival schools. I suppose it’s only natural to not like each other.”

Niki doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, that sounds made up.”

Jungwon swallows his bite, parts his lips like he has something to say. Internally, you heave a sigh of relief. If any of the three of them spare you, you have a feeling it would be him. “I mean, it does seem like something else must have happened.”

Or not.

“You don’t have to tell us,” he adds. “But it’s just… I mean, the two of you can’t even look at each other.”

Sighing, you suppose the circumstances do look odd from the outside. “There was… an incident. Back when we used to skate together.”

“What?” Jake asks. “Did he steal your skates right before a show or something?”

“No, no.” You shake your head. “It happened on the ice, actually. During a program.”

“Wait,” Niki interrupts. “You said you used to skate together. Do you mean like, as partners?”

The guilt on your face says it all.

“No way.” Jake says.

Jungwon’s eyes grow bigger. “What did he do?”

“Yeah,” Niki turns to face you fully. “Wouldn’t being his partner be a good thing? At least on the ice, I mean. I know he can be a little insufferable, but isn’t he some sort of prodigy—”

“Prodigy, my ass.” You’re so sick of that goddamn word. “Wasn’t a prodigy when he dropped me in the middle of our program at junior nationals, was he?”

The way all three or their jaws drop in unison is almost worth the admission.

But the thing is, he was. No accusatory fingers pointed in his direction after it happened. No one blamed prodigy Park Sunghoon for the mishap.

No, it was decided fair and square by the jury of public opinion that the mistake was entirely your fault, your burden to bear. And it’s not like you were immune to the criticism. Whispers followed where you went. And you always, always managed to hear them.

Maybe if you’d trained a little harder, completed the second rotation a little sooner, the skill would have gone off without a hitch, they mused. Hell, maybe if you’d stuck to your diet a little better, those last two pounds would have spelled the difference between a perfect landing and your ass on frozen ground, program music still crescendoing as onlookers watched with horrified fascination.

“Oh,” Jungwon grimaces.

“That’s rough,” Niki agrees.

And they don’t even know the worst of it. Don’t know that back then, at sixteen, you’d had a giant, soul crushing, earth shattering, massive crush on your skating partner. That you searched for his approval just as eagerly as you’d sought out Coach Kang's.

That you’d squeezed in as many extra practice sessions as physically possible for five months leading up to the routine just to make sure you were as close to flawless as possible, just to make sure you were chosen to be his partner on the ice.

That you giggled, giggled, when you saw the matching costumes the two of you would wear for the first time.

That you followed where he went with long sighs and lovesick eyes. That you looked forward to the grueling hours you spent on the ice with him, turning perfection into something even greater.

That your heart skipped a beat every time you ran through your program, every time he caught you with sure hands and a strong grip.

That Park Sunghoon never made a mistake, never let you fall, not once.

Not until a spotlight was spinning dreams into reality and you were already anticipating the secret smiles you’d share with matching gold medals around your necks.

Not until it all shattered in a single moment.

It was cold, as you laid there on the ice, sprawled out and unable to move from the sudden shock of it all. Luckily, you’d avoided any critical injuries. You had staggered off the ice with nothing but some bad bruising, the worst of it staining your ego and your heart.

And after it all, no matter how many times you passed him on your way to the locker room, shared the ice with him, or searched for the gaze he pointedly avoided across the room, Park Sunghoon never uttered the two words that just might have made you forgive it all.

Instead of an apology or even the decency of an explanation, you got a cold shoulder and a lost friendship you were too confused by to mourn.

In the end, you’d decided to turn it all into a blessing in a very thorough disguise. From that moment onwards, all of your time on the ice was dedicated to you and you alone. Never would you let anything but the sheer strength of your own will, your own goals, motivate you to become better, faster, stronger.

And you found that victory tasted even sweeter, when the full weight of it could rest on your shoulders alone. When no one could whisper behind their palms that the only reason you stood on the podium was a prodigy of a partner.

So fine. Park Sunghoon didn’t owe you shit. Not an apology, an explanation, or even a second glance.

And if he was a prodigy, an ice prince or whatever stupid title he’d earned alongside his medals, well, you’d just have to be even better.

But now, sitting across from new friends with a fractured ankle and a ruined shot at medalling this year, a quiet part of you admits for the first time that maybe, just maybe, part of that resolve is nothing but spite in disguise. Part of the anger you’ve clung to for so long isn’t directed at him, but at yourself.

That it was embarrassing to fall in front of a crowd, yes, but it was also humiliating to know that he was hearing all those little comments about your inferiority too. To realize that his silence meant he probably agreed. That you were a liability of a partner, unequal in both skill and importance. That he could move on from the incident, from you, completely unscathed.

That your little crush was entirely one-sided, just like the respect and admiration you’d once felt for him.

You stare at the half-eaten lunch in front of you, appetite suddenly completely gone.

“What a coincidence that the two of you ended up injured at the same time,” Jake muses.

“And in the same physical therapy group.” Jungwon nods.

“Yeah,” you echo hollowly. “What a coincidence.”

…

When Park Sunghoon speaks to you for the first time in five years, it’s completely by accident.

As the weeks have continued on, you’ve fallen into a perfect routine during your shared physical therapy sessions. A routine of avoidance, ignorance, and as much space between the two of you as physically possible. It’s become so easy that the two of you navigate it with the kind of grace only two elite figure skaters could ever manage.

If anything, it’s more awkward for the other members of your session than it is for the two of you. Jungwon, Jake, Niki, and Dr. Kim are the ones suffering as they try to stay friendly with both of you without icing out the other.

It must be why he doesn’t even bother to check who it is that’s standing right next to him as he reaches for his bag on the shelf near the front door at the end of another session. Must be why he says it in a voice so casual you don’t think it’s him at first. “How pissed do you think Dr. Kim will be if I’m late again next week?”

Even though the voice doesn’t quite fit, you half expect to see Jake standing next to you when you turn to the side.

Sunghoon realizes his mistake at the exact same second you do. You watch as shock flickers across his features, quickly replaced by something guarded, unreadable. Just as completely closed off to you as always.

It pisses you off, the way he’s so utterly and completely unaffected by you. The way he can brush you off as easily as a piece of dust. Insignificant. Unimportant. Unwanted. It has you freeing the reins on comments you should bite back instead.

“Hard to say.” Ice and resentment drip from every syllable. “Then again, I’m surprised you care about what she thinks. Doesn’t seem like something that would bother you.”

That at least earns you some of his emotion. Another bout of shock crosses his face before it shifts to confusion and falls finally to anger. You can see it in the furrow of his brow, the set of his jaw. The flare of heat in his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

If he falls to anger, you’ll rise above it. At least on the outside. There’s no accounting for the way your gut twists in rage. Still, you offer him a smile that’s almost as fake as it is sickeningly sweet. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out if you spend enough time thinking about it.” It’s patronizing, and intentionally so. You hope it annoys him enough to keep him up tonight.

Reaching for the front door, you take your exit first. The hallways of this building have become familiar over the weeks. Even with anger clouding your vision and a bad ankle, you trace a steady path to the parking lot. You’re halfway to your car when the sound of your name stops you in your tracks.

You freeze for a moment, turning the sound of it over in your brain, stuck on the way it almost sounds like a plea, a prayer coming from his lips. The sound of footsteps draws nearer. They fall quickly, as if he’s running. Your indecision still renders you immobile.

“Hold on a second. Did I… Did I do something to upset you?”

If you thought you were angry before, you’re surely seeing red now. How dare he.

Spinning around, you only hope you sound as outraged as you feel. “Is that supposed to be some kind of joke?”

“What? No.” His brow furrows. “I mean, I know our schools are technically rivals and all, but we haven’t really seen each other in years.”

“Right, because you’ve been so sunny and welcoming since I joined the group.” And because the last time we saw each other ended on such great terms.

“I was giving you space. You practically bolted like a scared cat when you saw it was me.” He runs a hand through his hair. You hate the way it falls perfectly back into place. And you hate the way he looks so good doing it. “But clearly you’ve got something against me.”

The audacity, the sheer, utter audacity. There’s no trace of humor when you say, “You’re hilarious, really.” And there’s no room for debate when you turn away from him again, continuing to walk towards your car.

“Wait,” he tries, but it falls on deaf ears. “God, ___, would you just hold on for a second, I—”

You turn. To do what, you’re not entirely sure. But before you can decide, the grip he has on his car keys loosens, the fingers of his right hand less dexterous than usual thanks to his arm brace. He still has his reflexes though. With his other hand, he manages to stop them from falling completely.

“Better take care of that.” You jerk your chin to where he awkwardly fumbles with his keyring, trying to find a better grip. “Wouldn’t want to drop those too.”

His gaze snaps to you, eyes wide, mouth slightly slackened. The keys fall from his grasp, metal clinking delicately on the pavement. A million questions swim across his features, none of which you’ll give the grace of answering.

Instead, you turn around once more. You make it all the way to your car, all the way out of the parking lot, all the way home.

And he never says your name once.

…

The following Tuesday, you are the last one of the group to arrive. And while you would usually never pass up the opportunity to best Sunghoon at anything, including being the latest arrival, competition is not the reason for your tardiness.

It’s avoidance. That, and the fact that you had to spend eleven minutes giving yourself a pep talk in the car before you could work up the nerve to approach the front doors of the clinic. In the end, it’s a glance down at the boot on your left foot that does it. You’ve let Sunghoon ruin your chance at a gold medal once, and you’ll be damned if you let him do it again.

Besides, your last visit with Dr. Min was a good one. Your ankle hasn’t healed quite as much as Dr. Kim suspected, but progress is progress, and you’re making plenty of it, according to your most recent x-rays.

You enter the session with an apology for Dr. Kim and concentrated efforts to not let your gaze wander to the back corner of the room as you make your way over to where Jake and Jungwon sit. Starting your stretches, you assume Niki is over with Sunghoon, but you can’t work up the nerve to confirm that.

Despite her initial annoyance at your tardiness, Dr. Kim is equally pleased at your latest x-ray results and gives you the green light to switch out the resistance bands you’ve been using for the next level up. Just as you’re reaching for the set of red bands on the shelf next to the treadmills, a set of obnoxiously smooth hands gets there first.

Turning to Sunghoon with narrowed eyes, you grab the end of the band set he just snatched out from under you, eyes ablaze.

The little fucker has the gall to roll his eyes. “What are you doing?”

You yank on the band. He doesn’t even flinch, grip steady. “I’m trying to follow Dr. Kim’s instructions,” you inform, tone flat.

This time when you yank again, he yanks back. Much to your annoyance, he’s able to exert enough force to have you stumbling forward. “You’re trying to provoke me.”

“And it’s working,” Niki whispers to Jake and Jungwon in the back corner of the room. Dr. Kim just shakes her head.

“Just take the green bands,” Sunghoon suggests.

“They don’t have enough resistance. I need these ones,” you argue. “Why don’t you take the green ones?”

“Pretty sure if one of us takes the lighter bands, it should be you.” Sunghoon tightens his grip. “Or are you seriously trying to claim that you’re stronger than me right now?”

“I’m using them for my legs, you absolute jackass. Which are definitely stronger than your forearms.”

Sunghoon cocks a brow. “Should we put money on it?”

“You are such a dick. Dr. Kim literally—”

“Has another set of red bands,” the woman in question interrupts. She levels the two of you with an exasperated look as she holds them out in front of her. “There’s another set of every color on the equipment shelf next to the door.”

“Oh, right,” you nod, pulling back a little on your end of the band before you release it, just to hear the small cry Sunghoon lets out when it snaps against the skin of his good wrist. “Thanks.”

And the satisfaction that comes from completing your usual number of reps with a higher resistance is almost as gratifying as when you see Sunghoon rubbing at the still reddened skin on his left wrist as you pack up to leave for the day.

“Those two are gonna kill each other,” Jungwon tells Jake and Niki as the three of them walk to their cars, brow creasing in concern.

“Or something,” Jake agrees.

Niki hoists his bag up on his shoulder. “My money’s on ___.”

A contemplative look passes between Jake and Jungwon before they nod in unison, “Yeah.”

…

You’re in the middle of passing a medicine ball back and forth with Jake the following week when he asks, “Are your school’s finals next week too?”

And although it’s hard to believe, first semester is already drawing to an end as the days get shorter and assignments get longer.

“Yeah,” you nod. “I’m up to my ass in essays right now.”

“Same,” Jake agrees. “Sometimes it makes me wonder how I do it when I’m training, too.” Although you agree, a pang of jealousy is the only thing his words inspire. Of the skaters on your team that are preparing to compete as you speak. That have already choreographed their routines and selected their music and are spending every waking moment perfecting each and every detail of their program.

It’s hard. It’s brutal. You’d be the first to admit that. But you miss it all the same, so much it hurts.

A moment passes before he continues. “Well, anyway, Jungwon, Niki, and I were thinking that since none of us are training right now, we should celebrate the end of the semester like everyone else does.”

You arch a brow. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“Right, sorry,” he apologizes. “Consider this your formal invitation to get absolutely shitfaced with us next Friday.”

The laugh that bubbles in your throat is so unexpected you can’t quite bite it back. While you have your fair share of good, old-fashioned fun, he’s right. Every other semester, you’ve celebrated the end of finals season with a cup of hot tea and an early night in bed. Traded one source of stress for another as you woke up bright and early the next day to hit the ice.

You send him a smile, tossing the medicine ball back in his direction. “Count me in.”

…

The following Friday night finds you double-checking the address on your phone before tentatively knocking on the front door of what you hope is Jake’s apartment. In the middle of the university district across the city from your own, you can’t say you’re familiar with any of the buildings outside of the athletic complex, which you’ve only ever visited for a handful of competitions. It strikes you then that this is also the university Sunghoon attends. And, stomach dropping, that you never actually asked who all would be attending tonight.

Before you have the chance to spin on your heel and high-tail it down the stairs you just climbed, the door swings open. It’s not Jake.

“Oh,” you mumble. The boy who opened the door is not Jake, but he is very much attractive. “Sorry. I’m looking for Jake Sim’s apartment.” Your voice turns up at the end like a question.

“You’re in the right place,” he smiles, and it’s gorgeous. “I’m Heeseung, Jake’s roommate. You must be ___.” He opens the door wider, allowing you space. “Come on in.”

“That’s me.” You offer him a grateful smile as you enter, hanging your coat and sliding your shoes off.

The interior is surprisingly sophisticated, for a college boy’s apartment. It’s clean, for starters, and as you follow Heeseung down the hallway towards the kitchen, you can’t help but be impressed by their choice in decor.

“Help yourself to anything.” Heeseung gestures to the impressive spread of snacks on the table. “But first, can I get you something to drink?”

“Um…” Your lack of alcohol-related knowledge is apparent, and the uncertainty must be obvious, because Heeseung just smiles again.

“I’ve got you.” There’s an undertone of something in his words. Something playful, something bordering on flirty. But it’s too subtle to tell for sure, and you’re not one to bet on losing odds. He reaches for a glass and a handful of ice cubes. “Do you like fruity flavors?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “That sounds good.” Besides, it’s been a minute since you’ve been well and truly flirted with at a college party by a boy that looks like he could spell trouble in his sleep. This could be fun, you think.

Glancing towards the adjacent living room, you notice the usual familiar faces. Jake and Niki are sitting on the couch while Jungwon chats with a boy you don’t recognize. Eyes tracing the perimeter, you feel your shoulders tense when they land on a familiar silhouette. Sunghoon has his back to you, but his identity is just as unmistakable as it was on your first day of physical therapy. Like Jungwon, he’s talking to another person you don’t know.

Oh, well. It’s too late to back out now and too early to make an exit. If you and Sunghoon can coexist in a room once a week without starting too many fires, you’re sure you’ll manage to get through tonight just fine.

Heeseung hands you a full glass. It’s cold where it meets your fingertips.

“Should we join them?” He inclines his head toward the living room and you nod.

Following in his footsteps, you wave a quick greeting to Jake before taking a seat next to Heeseung, enough space between you and Sunghoon for you to relax slightly.

“How do you and Jake know each other?” You ask, searching for something to fill the silence, to keep the conversation flowing. “Do you play soccer together?”

Heeseung shakes his head. “No, we’ve been friends since elementary school. But I am on the basketball team, which helps. I feel like student athletes just kind of get each other, you know?”

You do know, and you tell him as much. The crazy schedule, the unwavering commitment. It’s much easier to explain to someone that’s living through the exact same thing.

“Speaking of which, you’re a figure skater, right? For the university across town.”

You arch a brow. “I’m surprised Jake told you so much about me.”

“Not nearly enough,” he flirts, and this time it’s blatant.

You take another sip of your drink with upturned lips, weighing a response on your tongue. Before you can decide how many cards you’d like to show, you make eye contact across the room with the one person you were hoping to avoid.

Sunghoon looks equally—scratch that—even more displeased to see you. Jawline so taught you could cut your finger on it and lips drawn in a straight line, he’s pissed where he locks eyes with you from his seat. Sunghoon is the one to avert his eyes first. Throwing back whatever’s in his cup, he slices through the moment of tension with a knife.

If Heeseung notices the way your breath splutters, he doesn’t comment. Thankfully, Jungwon chooses the next moment to say his hellos and introduce you to the boys you hadn’t recognized earlier.

“Sunoo,” he nods towards the boy he’d been sitting with earlier, who offers a friendly greeting. “And that’s Jay, over by Sunghoon. And you’ve already met Heeseung.”

“And you all go to school here?”

“Yeah,” Jungwon nods. “Jay and I live together, and Sunoo is Niki’s roommate.”

“You’re deep in enemy territory,” Heeseung elbows you lightly, teasing. “What are we gonna do with you?”

You lift your now empty glass towards him, grinning. “Get me another drink, hopefully.”

Sending you a wink, he takes the glass from your outstretched hand before standing from the couch. “On it.” You watch his back retreat into the kitchen, oblivious of the second one that follows it a handful of moments later.

Jay, as it turns out, is not an athlete, but does play guitar for a local band your friend has been raving to you about for ages. He’s already promising you two sets of complimentary tickets to every one of their upcoming shows by the time you realize Heeseung’s been gone for a while. Too long.

Excusing yourself, you head toward the kitchen. And it’s just your luck that you find the person you’ve spent the evening avoiding, instead of the one you’re searching for. Even with the buzz of your first drink fading rapidly, your inhibitions are feeling low.

Sunghoon barely has the chance to register your presence before you’re laying out accusations.

“I know you don’t like me, but do you really have to spend the whole night glaring at me like that? In front of everyone?”

Sunghoon’s shoulders tense, a confirmation that he hears you, but he says nothing. Instead, he just swallows the remainder of his drink in one large gulp. His eyes are still flaring, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you did something to piss him off.

But it’s just like him, to avoid conversations he doesn’t want to have with the end of another drink. To treat you like someone not even worthy of a response. You don’t know why you expected anything different. Scoffing, you notice the full drink sitting on the counter. Heeseung must have had the chance to refill it before disappearing.

You move to step around Sunghoon and reach for it when he finally says, “I’m not glaring at you.”

The gaze you level him with is incredulous. “Do you think I’m stupid? I have eyes—”

“For all I know you are stupid!” Sunghoon sighs, drags an open palm down the length of his face. “I mean, are you really gonna let some guy you just met pour your drinks all night?”

“Heeseung?” You’re confused why all of his rage seems to be directed towards something so insignificant. “He’s Jake’s roommate”

“And a complete stranger to you.”

It’s infuriating, the way he assumes his opinion should hold any weight in your life. The way he thinks he has any say in your decisions. “So should I avoid all the food now too?” You’re being petty now for the sake of it. “I mean, since you’ve been in here unsupervised for quite a while now.” You take another step towards your drink and he moves, blocking your path with his body.

When you look up, you find his eyes already trained on you, and there’s no ice in them now. Just pure, unadulterated heat. Fire. Flames that lick the base of your spine. “You’re so fucking agitating, you know that?”

“I’m agitating?” You take another step forward, hoping the proximity will force him away. It doesn’t. If anything, he leans into it. Into you.

You reach for the drink again. This time, he stops you himself. Fingers of his unrestricted hand wrapping around your wrist.

“Yeah.” His words are low, voice a caress even as it drips venom. You feel his breath ghost across your cheekbone. “Real fucking agitating.”

Your eyes are still locked on his, and you search them for a hint of something coherent, something that makes sense. Every bone in your body drawn taught, it’s as if muscle memory reverts you to the last moment you were like this, the last moment he held you this close, body entwined with his own in a familiar embrace. Your wrist slackens in his grasp.

Last time, he dropped you. Sent you scattering across ice until the only thing you could taste was the bitterness of defeat and the sharp sting of humiliation.

Last time, he let you fall.

You have no idea what he’ll do now.

In the end, it’s the sound of approaching footsteps that has the two of you springing apart, your wrist falling from his grip. In the scramble, you remember your original target.

Despite the long melted ice, this drink feels even cooler in your grip, a stark contrast to the simmering heat just beneath your skin.

When Heeseung enters, he’s tucking his phone into his pocket with an apologetic look. “Sorry, I had to take a call. My brother gets chatty at the worst times.” Nodding to your hand, he smiles, “You found your drink.”

“Yeah, I did.” You take a step closer to the living room, closer to Heeseung. Further from Sunghoon.

Glancing between the two of you, there’s a hint of uncertainty when Heeseung asks if you want to rejoin the others in the living room.

You put his worries to ease and your questions to rest when you agree easily, not even bothering to give Sunghoon a second thought.

You do seek his gaze one last time, though, before you follow Heeseung back to the party. Looking directly at him, you raise your glass in a mock toast. Without breaking eye contact, you bring the cup to your lips, swallowing half the drink in one long sip. When you do finally turn away, it’s to find the empty seat next to Heeseung.

The rest of the evening passes in a pleasant blur, trading stories and laughs with the people around you while Heeseung keeps the seat at your side warm. Sunghoon does you the favor of disappearing from sight after your stand off in the kitchen.

It’s easy to relax into the company of everyone else, so much so that you don’t see Sunoo until you’re running right into him, the contents of his cup saturating the front of your shirt.

It’s a problem Heeseung is quick to solve, and the gray hoodie he offers you is cozier than any of your own with a scent that’s almost addicting.

He’s sweet, you think. Sweet and charming and forward in all of the right ways. It’s solidified when he offers to join you on the porch when you tell him you’re stepping outside for some fresh air. It’s cemented when he accepts your refusal with nothing but a smile and the request that you “come back quick.”

Stepping outside, it takes you a moment to realize that you’re not alone. It would appear that your earlier assumption that Sunghoon must have gone back to his place was wrong. There’s no drink in his hand, but the way he sways with the gentle midnight breeze makes you think he’s still working through everything he downed earlier.

Silently, you glance up at the cloudless night sky, at the way the stars seem to wrap around you. Gaze returning to Sunghoon’s back, you suppose the simplest course of action would be to leave before he realizes you’re here. You turn to do just that, to make good on your promise to Heesung, when the sound of your name stops you in your tracks.

Or at least, you think that’s what he says. It’s hard to tell, with the way his syllables and sounds slur together. Turning back towards him, you find him already looking at you. He repeats your name, and this time around, it’s a bit clearer.

His eyes trace a downward line from your face to your change in clothes. Something in his face crumples, withers.

“‘M sorry,” he slurs, words not lining up quite right through the inebriation.

“What?”

“That day.” The sudden onset of sincerity in his tone makes him seem more sober than he is. “I should have caught you.”

The stars in the sky suddenly don’t seem so far away. You must have heard him wrong. A crease forms between your eyebrows, eyes scanning over his features. They’re laid open in their honesty, no trace of deception.

“I wanted to catch you. I tried to.” He sighs. “Was my fault.”

“I…” You search for words, for the vindication you’d always imagined you’d feel at his admission. In its absence, you find only confusion and an odd pang of regret. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“Sorry for what? Why are you bringing that up?”

He just shakes his head, eyes falling to his feet.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. Like a broken record. His pain is wrapped up in there too, trapped in a loop time has never quite let it escape.

When you return to the party, it’s with a jumbled excuse of needing to check on a pet cat you don’t have.

In the haste of it all, you forget to so much as exchange numbers with Heeseung. But you do find the time to pull Jake aside on your way out the door, to make sure that he helps Sunghoon get home safe.

…

The next morning greets you with a pounding headache and an unfamiliar hoodie draped over the back of your desk chair. It takes a moment of searching through hazy memories before recollection of that particular string of events finds you.

With a sigh, you head out in search of water and Advil, sending Jake a quick message that you’ll stop by his apartment later to return Heeseung’s hoodie.

Even a handful of hours later, you can’t decide if you hope Heeseung is home or not. It’s a Saturday afternoon after a long night, so you figure the odds are high. But you still can’t pinpoint whether that feeling in your gut is excitement or dread.

In an effort to delay the inevitable, you take a detour before visiting Jake’s apartment again. Your rival university’s sports complex is just as nice as you remember it, large, pristine buildings that hold everything an athletics department could dream of. Fondly, you remember the first time you skated in this stadium, back in middle school. It had felt so big, then, so special, to be skating for such a large crowd.

It felt even more special to be sharing the ice with someone who put dreams in your head and butterflies in your stomach. Still fairly new to pair skating, the two of you had put on a program with a less than favorable amount of deduction.

But still. It was yours. It was special. It was shared.

You wonder if he knew then, that one day he would be the reigning king of this very same rink.

Probably, you think. Park Sunghoon never had the habit of letting things feel impossible.

Looking down at the boot on your foot, you miss it, all of it, all at once. The late nights. The early mornings. The bruises and cuts and aching muscles. The determination after defeat. The elation after glory. The feeling of flying every time blade touches ice.

The sign posted next to the stadium is an advertisement, a reminder, of the upcoming regional championships. There’s a pang of loss, a moment of grief, for your program that will have to wait for next year.

But your x-rays are coming back better every time, and Dr. Kim is sure you’ll be back on the ice by the time spring comes.

For the first time in a long time, you think it’ll be okay. You know you’ll be okay.

In front of you, the stadium door opens, and you realize you’re standing right in front of the exit.

“Sorry,” you mutter, quickly moving to get out of the way, but then you take a closer look. “Coach Kang?” you ask, just as she says your name with the same air of disbelief.

It’s an odd feeling of synchronicity, to stumble into your childhood skating coach just as you’re reminiscing on the past.

“It’s been so long,” she beams, pulling you in for a warm hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Just visiting a friend. What about you?”

“Coaches’ meeting,” she explains. “Trying to see if I can get some of my junior skaters in to watch a few practices before regionals.” Nudging you with her shoulder, she adds, “Speaking of which, how’s your program coming along? Are you getting excited?”

You shake your head. “I’m actually off the ice for this one.” Glancing down, you lift your booted foot in explanation. “Ankle fracture has me out for the rest of the season.”

“Oh, no.” Coach Kang places a consolatory hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry. That has to be so hard.”

“It’s okay, actually.” You don’t know who’s more surprised, her at your admission, or you at the fact that you actually mean it. “Everything is healing up nicely, so I’m looking forward to an even better program next year.”

“Well look at you, all grown up.” She smiles. “I can say that thirteen-year-old you would not have had such a good attitude about it. Honestly, I’m surprised a fracture was enough to stop you. You were always so stubborn about things. You and Sunghoon.” She lets out a short laugh as your shoulders tense at the mention of him. “I was just thinking about you two the other day, actually. We had a skater fracture his tailbone and argue until he was blue in the face that he still wanted to compete.” Shaking her head, she adds, “It reminded me of that time Sunghoon insisted on skating even though he’d just sprained his wrist.” She shakes her head again, releases a small laugh. “Never could keep you two off the ice.”

It all checks out, the stubbornness, the determination even when it was stupid. But you’re hung up on one detail. You’re sure you could list every one of Sunghoon’s skating injuries just as thoroughly as he could. But before the current one, you can’t recall any wrist injuries. “What? When did he sprain his wrist?”

Coach Kang waves her hand flippantly, like the sinking feeling in your gut isn’t intensifying with every passing moment, like she isn’t about to confirm a realization you’re already dreading. “Oh, you remember. It was just a few days before nationals that one year.”

That one year. She skirts around it, for your sake probably. But you know exactly what she means, when she’s referring to.

And suddenly, you’re falling through air again, plummeting towards ice as a hand makes a desperate attempt to catch you. As sheer will alone is no match for injury weakened bones and ligaments and muscles. As you’re sliding across frozen ground and he’s gripping his wrist with pain on his face and terror in his eyes.

As your head spins, spots clouding your vision from the force of the impact. Before the world goes black, your eyes search for him.

And in those last few moments of consciousness, you watch as his mouth moves to form words you can’t hear.

“I’m sorry.”

…

Raising your fist, you pound at the door again. One, two, three times. At this rate, your knuckles will be bloody before you get a response.

But before you can start your assault on the wood in front of you again, the door swings open slowly, revealing a familiar frame.

“You absolute idiot.”

“Well hello to you too.” Rubbing at his eyes, you appear to have just woken him from a nap. If his head is feeling anything like yours was this morning, you almost feel sorry.

But there are more pressing matters at hand. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“That I’m an idiot? Probably not.”

“That you sprained your wrist three days before nationals? That you skated anyway? That you attempted to catch a person quite literally spinning through the air with a wrist injury?”

A beat of silence passes.

And then another.

Sunghoon suddenly looks wide awake. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. What the hell were you thinking?” There’s fire in your eyes, an anger that’s directed towards him but not in the ways he’s used to.

He pauses for a moment, eyes searching your features for another beat. Finally, he sighs. “Would you have let me skate if I did?”

It’s not the answer you expect. And it’s just like him, to answer a question with one of his own. “I… what?”

“You heard me.” His eyes don’t leave yours. “Would you have let me get on the ice if you knew I was hurt?”

And what is it, him and his habit of asking ridiculous questions like they don’t have obvious answers. “What kind of question is that? Of course not. No one in their right mind would have let you do that program with a wrist sprain, much less your partner. And I love Coach Kang, but I’m about to file a negligence suit against her, because what the hell kind of—”

“Stop talking.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry,” he grimaces, and you’re still getting used to the way apologies sound on his lips. “That came out wrong. What I was trying to say was that you… Well, I… I mean…” He trails off for the third time, casts a tentative look at the way your eyebrows only raise higher and higher every time he stops a train of thought in its tracks. His gaze falls down, somewhere between your nose and chin. An exhale passes through parted lips. Something in his resolve slips. “Oh, fuck it.”

And then he’s kissing you.

Lips against lips and hands in your hair. It’s messy and awkward, and you can’t quite get the timing right.

Sunghoon pulls back a fraction of an inch, catching his breath and letting you do the same.

“What are you doing?”

There’s heat in his eyes and fondness too, a soft sort of expression that only melts further every time he looks at you. But now there’s anxiety in the mix, a crippling fear that he’s misjudged everything entirely, done something horribly wrong.

“I’m sorry.” Before today, you could count his apologies on one hand. Now, you’re running out of fingers. “Did you not want—”

This time, it’s you that pulls him down, hands lacing around the nape of his neck, exhaling a soft sigh against parted lips that sends his mind spinning.

And it’s only the second time, but it’s already better. Already a natural rhythm that the two of you seem to fall into with a little more grace.

The expanse of his door is cold against your back when Sunghoon finally pulls you into his apartment using his good hand, and he’s a quick study. Attempt number three is an even greater improvement as hands search for new skin to discover and things start to fall into place, one at a time.

Reaching for Heeseung’s forgotten hoodie, Sunghoon breaks the kiss only to toss it somewhere outside your current plane of existence. In this moment, you exist only within the space the two of you occupy, everything else an afterthought.

And you have the feeling attempt number four will be your best yet.

…

epilogue

“Are you ever gonna join me or do I just have to stay out here looking stupid forever?”

You don’t even take a moment to consider. “The second one.”

“Come on,” Sunghoon pleads, skating back towards you where you remain planted firmly to the bench on the perimeter of the rink. He moves towards you with a grace that used to inspire a raging, stomping green monster of envy. Now, you just admire the way he cuts across the ice with the agility of a dancer. “It’s fun out here, I promise.”

Avoiding his gaze, you let your eyes fall to your feet instead. They’re already laced up in your favorite pair of skates, black boot all but forgotten since you had it removed at your last visit to Dr. Min’s office. Since he gave you the green light to return to the thing you love most.

You had been ecstatic then. Brimming with so much extra energy Sunghoon had to physically intervene to prevent you from accidentally knocking over an elderly lady on your way out of the hospital. But now, with the opportunity you’ve been dreaming of for long, hard months at your fingertips, something in you hesitates.

Sunghoon says your name, and suddenly he’s serious. “This is all you’ve been talking about for months.” Sliding down onto his knees in front of you, you’re suddenly at eye level. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He casts a doubtful glance. “Really, I just…” It’s hard, to speak your fears into existence, to let them take flight. Even if the boy in front of you makes it a little easier. “What if it’s not what I imagined?”

It’s a million little worries wrapped up in one. What if your ankle isn’t the same? What if it’s never the same? What if you’re not as good as you were? What if you’re not good enough?

Sunghoon hears them all, and puts them to rest with a smile, a gentle touch as he rests his forehead against yours. “You and that big brain. Always worrying about the wrong things.”

“Hey! I—”

“It won’t be what you imagined.” He draws back a few inches, and your eyes have nowhere to land but on his own. “It will be different. It will feel weird, and your legs will feel wobbly, your muscles will feel weak, and your ankle might give out.”

Your lips flatten into a thin line. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re doing a terrible job.”

Sunghoon just pinches your cheeks together, forcing your lips to purse. “So you’ll show up. Over and over again. Every day until your skates start to feel like a second pair of feet and the ice starts to feel like home again. Until your ankle and your muscles and your stamina are all built back up, in a way that’s different from before but will feel familiar before you know it.” He presses a single, delicate kiss to the tip of your nose. “Until I’m dragging you off the ice instead of onto it, because your boyfriend needs attention and is feeling a little jealous of all the time you’re spending here instead of with him.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re so needy. It’s gross.”

Sunghoon only smiles. “Only for you.”

This time, when he gets back on his feet and extends a hand, you take it. You follow him onto the ice and headfirst towards your insecurities feeling a little bit like a newborn deer, a bike without its training wheels.

He laughs when you stumble and brushes hair out of your face when you pout.

After an hour, you’re already feeling more solid than before. After two, that feeling of flying is starting to return.

It’s somewhere just before hour three when Sunghoon says, “Remember how I told you earlier that you’re worrying about the wrong things?”

“Yeah.” You drag the word out slowly, not liking the hint of deviousness in his sudden grin.

“This is what I was talking about. Instead of worrying about getting back on the ice, you should be worrying about how long it will take you to be able to beat me on a lap around the rink.”

“You absolute asshole. I fractured my ankle!”

Already halfway around the rink, Sunghoon just laughs.

…

outtake—five years ago.

Sunghoon’s vision is blurry. It’s a terrible combination of things—the exhilaration of the spotlight, the pain in his wrist, the grief of an egregious error. The sudden onset of tears that sting in the corners of his eyes and fall without his permission.

Despite all of it, he finds his way back to his dressing room. Choking back a sob, he reaches for the glass of water he’d left out earlier. It tastes acidic on his tongue, burns like regret on the way down.

Stupid, he was so stupid. His hands tangle in his hair. He wants to pull it out. Wants to scream until his throat is raw and he can’t anymore.

It was a terrible enough decision to gamble his own fate on an unhealed injury, but as the reality of the situation comes crashing down around him, he realizes he’s done something much worse.

Eyes open, eyes closed. It doesn’t matter. All he can see is you, sprawled out on ice, limbs bent unnaturally, eyes dazed at the impact.

The unexpected impact. Because you trusted him. You trusted him so much that of course you’d never considered what you would do if his hands failed, if his wrist gave out. If he decided to risk your program, your fate, you, all on a whim, on an inflated sense of self-importance and a lack of regard for the injury he was so certain he could power through.

He couldn’t imagine it, three days ago. Telling you that he was injured, that he couldn’t skate the program. He couldn’t imagine watching as the features he bashfully considered so, painfully pretty twisted into disappointment. Into anger.

So he turned his shame into resolve, into determination. One that allowed him to catch you with a fractured wrist in every practice run. Every time, except for the time that mattered. Biting back grimaces and cries of pain all for the fool’s hope of seeing you smile in a few days’ time, a gold medal around your neck.

Instead, he got to see you spinning through the air, slipping through his fingers, landing with a sickening thud. He wants to ask what hospital they took you to, wants to ignore the pain in his wrist a little longer and run there himself, just to make sure that you’re okay.

But then he imagines the way you’ll look at him when you see him. The way all that disappointment and anger he’d wanted to avoid so desperately will surely be all you have to offer him.

He understands. He does. He wouldn’t want to see him either.

Turning away from the mirror, he tucks away his shame for the future. But that only leaves his gaze landing on the bouquet of flowers sitting on the table. The one he’d spent nearly an hour agonizing over, the one his mother had assured him a dozen times you would love. The one he made sure had all of your favorite colors.

He snuck his own favorite in there too, in hopes of what exactly he can’t be sure, but he knows he likes the way they look together—your favorite color and the deep blue irises that represent his own.

It seems so stupid now. After everything, after this, he can’t imagine you want his flowers, and even less his favorite color. He can’t imagine that you want anything to do with him.

So he doesn’t seek you out. Not in the hospital that day, not when you’re cleared to practice and back on the ice again, not when chance has the two of you colliding five long years later.

Not until he watches you walk away from him with all that anger and resentment and disappointment he’s been so avoiding for so long. Not until it strikes him in the face and he realizes that he can’t live with it, can’t let bygones be bygones and hope time and the absence of him in your life have healed you for the better when it still hurts to even look at you.

On a dressing room table, five years in the past, a bouquet of flowers wilts.

And Sunghoon learns that with love and patience and a little bit of sunlight, beautiful things, even the fragile ones, bloom when you water them.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

#enhypen fanfiction #sunghoon fanfic #sunghoon x you #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon #enhypen fic #enhypen ff #sunghoon fluff #enhypen x you #enhypen x reader #oh look! another sunghoon figure skater au how original #everyone point and laugh

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