#dear someone who will likely never see this: happy birthday | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

s-4pphics · 4 months

Text

click!: in frame. 2 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you crave redemption more than love. [idk au]

WORD COUNT: 11.5k

WARNINGS: professionalphotographer!ellie, strugglingartist!oc who’s black, ANGST!!, daddy issues, SA/victim blaming :(, homophobia LOL, anger issues\violence, bad parenting, anxiety, joel standing on bidness, FLUFF!! :3, SMUT… MDNI, ellie bottoms YAAAS, virginity mentions, jealousy😂, dubcon (they’re high), more fingering, brief mentions of cunning lunning, squirting, mult. big Os, err dassit

A/N: YYYYAASSSSSSSS hi… bye

APRIL, 2014

Happy birthday, babe, you whisper in your girlfriend’s ear, arms wrapped around her neck from behind. Ceniyah’s giggly thank yous fill your ears and heart as you press smacking kisses on her cheek.

I made you something… You reach behind and grab the rolled-up poster paper sticking out of your backpack, making sure Ceniyah doesn’t turn around. She seems giddy and your heart soars. You hope that all-nighter was worth it. Please, you pray to yourself, please love it.

Close your eyes and gimme your hand, you say and she listens, palm open in front of your face. You place the scroll in her hand and she gasps. She whips around to face you, shock written all over her, and you giggle. She unrolls the painting and her head instantly falls back, tears jerking behind her glasses.

Are you seriously crying right now! You pull her tight to your chest and she sobs into your neck, C’mon, baby, stop cryin’! S’okay. You coo and her arms tighten around your waist.

D-D’you like it? Your face burns when you whisper.

Are you fucking serious! She squeaks into your neck, It’s beautiful, baby, I love it. T-Thank you—

I love you so much, you mumble, and she says it back.

You haven’t slept at all. Your body’s going to collapse soon. You hope it’s not during this phone call.

You ogle at the small card in your hand, pressing the digits into your device before hitting the call button. It rings twice before a bright voice answers.

“Hello, this is Lisa Meyers speaking. How can I be of service?”

… Interesting intro. “Good morning, um, Professor Meyers?”

“Yes, how can I help you?”

“I… we spoke at the coffee shop yesterday. About the… assisting art professors alumni thing.”

“Oh, of course! How are you, dear?”

“I’m good. Um… I was wondering if you’d have some time to speak with me about it... If that’s cool.”

You can hear her wide smile through the line, “More than cool! Would you be able to come into the office tomorrow?”

An extra day in the city wouldn’t hurt (it would), “No problem. What time were you thinkin’?”

“My mornings are always open! How does ten sound?”

“Sounds like a plan. Uh, thank you,” you say with twitchy fingers.

“Course, hun! I’ll put you in and I’ll see you tomorrow!”

You never expected to end up back here.

The campus art studio looks exactly the same, only now the old portraits, sculptures, ceramics that were lined up on shelves of the display case are all replaced with new, nameless ones. You’re not used to seeing projects that you couldn’t attach a name to in the classroom. Your university years never feel that long ago, but the randomly placed structures are proof of your long-term absence.

Time is an illusion… Or you’re getting old as fuck and about to be lowered into the ground. Freshmen make you sick(affectionately).

Professor Meyers explained the position well enough for you to manage on your own. The work you’re doing isn’t difficult: oversee, assist in grading, oversee some more, oversee, and guide. You’re practically getting a check for being the already observant individual that you are. It’s a steal!

The position only lasts around a month, but Professor Meyers was convinced that it would only take someone as talented as you (her words… although you agree) a week to get on her toes. You vowed to bring your sketchbook every day from here on out, both to yourself and to her, in case you get the inkling of inspiration that you desperately need.

The job’s a small win. That’s all you could ask for right now.

Fuck all that shit you said at the start of the week. TAing fucking sucks. And you still haven’t had any inspiration despite all the efforts from the students! Whenever you pick up a utensil, you stab through your paper. You’ve officially lost your touch. You’re a regular bitch with no talent! What the fuck is going on!

You’ve had numerous breakdowns in bathroom stalls since Monday, and you’re bound to have another one in the next fifteen seconds. Why the fuck did so many students leave their filled water cups on the fucking tables. Guess who has to clean all that shit up! You! Fuck freshman(unaffectionately).

You’re so happy the halls are empty in between rotations. No one needs to watch you sobbingly wipe down tables splattered with paint.

After Professor Ronson’s room is tidy, you start prepping the board for the next rotation of students. They’re learning about anatomy today; There’s bound to be at least three students that scribble tiny dicks in the corner of their starter pages. You hate it here.

You open the drawer to retrieve all the sharpeners, only to find the container completely empty. You’re sick of the animators not putting shit back. You begrudgingly make your way back down the hall and into Professor Lacey’s room… You should’ve never left.

Your lungs constrict with your gasp and you almost drop your keys.

A just as shocked Ellie gawks back at you, laminated name tag with YEARBOOK dangling from the camera strap around her neck.

What the fuck.

Ellie’s either hallucinating or dead. Yeah… She has to be dead. The haunting of your email was too much and she died and now she’s seeing shit—

An angel disguised as you is staring back at her, fist clenched under the sleeves of your sweater, brown eyes just as stunned as hers. Ellie barely has time to gather words before the chains hooked onto the pockets of your jeans jingle as you step out of the room and scurry down the hallway. Ellie’s feet are flying before she can even register their movements, hot on your trail as her camera bounces on her chest.

She manages to get close enough to grab your bicep, ignoring the stuttering in her heart when she sees the former light in your eyes replaced with something darker. The flourishing storm in your pupils is uncontrollable.

Ellie drops your arm when she realizes you won’t run, “W-What are you doing here?”

Your gaze is locked onto the tile squares on the ground. “I-I’m, uh… just enjoyin’ the weather— “

Ellie’s brows pull downward, eyes flicking towards the badge wrapped around your neck. Do you work here? “We’re indoors.” She mumbles dryly.

“Nothin’ like… the spring rain hittin’ the windows, am I right?“ You huff with a nervous smile, eyes flitting around the hallway as you search for an escape. Ellie’s not having that.

“We needa talk.”

You sigh, “I can’t. I’m working.”

“So am I. Take your break,” Ellie grabs your wrist and drags you back down the hallway, leading you to the bathroom and pushing you into a stall, locking the door behind her.

Her voice is quiet when she presses, “The fuck are you doing here?”

Ellie expects you to snap, to push the same questioning back onto her, but you don’t. Your mouth gapes like a fish as you stumble over words. Ellie’s eyes soften when she sees a shaky hand come up to pin a loc behind your ear. You’re shaken up and she instantly notices something off. Your demeanor has shifted immensely since she last seen you and it’s making Ellie’s stomach twist with discomfort. She's never seen you this stunted.

“What.” Ellie asks when you mumble to the floor.

“I’m sorry about the email,” You sound winded, “I thought… I dunno. I’m sorry about everythin’.” Your lip starts to quiver as you ramble, “I would’ve never come if I knew, I’m sorry— “

… What the hell are you talking about? And why are you crying?

You sniffle and wipe your tears with your sleeves and Ellie’s fingers itch to comfort, to dry your face herself, but she doesn’t. She watches you weep into your palms for what feels like hours, the air of the restroom suffocatingly tight.

“I didn’t mean to ruin anything you h — had going on, okay? I’m sorry… I’ll leave right now! You’ll never have to see me again— “

Your sobs are stressing her, “G-Gimme your phone.” Ellie blurts.

You're already digging in your pocket for your device to unlock it, “W-Why— “

Ellie snatched it from your hand, heart pulling when she sees a photo of younger you being carried by a woman shoved in your case. The same face that was littered all over your apartment, “You wanted to talk so bad, right?” Ellie presses her new number into the pad and calls herself, “You have my number. My…”

When she looks up, her words get swallowed up; Your eyes still manage to glow under the… horrific bathroom lighting, glittering like stars in the late night. She clears her throat to catch herself, “My shift ends at four. Call me any time after that.”

Ellie hurries to unlock the stall before leaving you in the bathroom, heart in her throat as she heaves all the way down the hallway to the lounge, shaking her hands to get the jitters out.

She knew she should’ve never accepted a call from the alumnus association. Fuck the yearbook.

You clock out with a heavy, anxious heart.

Three students came up to you and asked for advice on their starter shapes. They were a bit upset when their circles didn’t come out perfect, and you almost cried. It was too sweet. Your bag bounces off your back as you descend the staircase to exit the building. The droplets hit your hood with fever as you skip to your car. You jump into the driver’s seat to turn the heat on, teeth chattering from the evening breeze.

You check the time on your dash and… it’s way past four. You hope Ellie’s willing to meet. You dial the most recent number and tremble as the phone rings. She answers after the second tone.

“Hello?”

She sounds so relaxed, and your shoulders unlock, “… Hi. It’s… me?”

A lengthy pause, “… Me who?”

You hide a snort, “Um… ex-roomie?” She chuckles lightly. “Hi.”

“… Hi.” You whisper, “Did you, um… still wanna talk to me?” You think you hear the click of a lighter.

“Mhm. I’ll send you where I stay at.”

“Okay… I’ll see you soon?”

“Yup.” And with that, the line goes dead. Ellie’s location delivers not even a minute later. Her hotel isn’t far from here. . . and fuck, it looks like wealth. Your nerves are nowhere near settled after your last attempt at reconciliation, and paranoia is itching beneath your skin.

You open your GPS and blast your screamo playlist, hollering your way down the street with your windows down, rain be damned.

You’re burning holes through Ellie’s hotel room door.

You haven’t knocked, you haven’t rang. . . you're not even sure if your text of arrival went through. You just stare at the peephole with a clenched jaw. This big bag of Cool Ranch Doritos is doing an excellent job as a stress ball. It’s bound to pop from your grip soon.

Your bladder almost lets loose when the door gets pulled open, nostrils instantly hit with wafts of that forbidden flower. You’re pulled through the small crack by a strong grip before the door is shut and locked behind you.

Ellie faces you, bare arms on display, and leans back against the door… in those fucking grey sweats. After all this time, they still cause damage to your soul, “Sorry. I don’t wanna get kicked out.”

“It’s… you’re good.” You point behind her, trying not to gawk at her tattoo, “How’d you know— “

“You breathe loud.” She says simply, tone hushed and raspy. She nods behind you, “Sit down.”

She follows you to the lounge chairs that face each other. You sit, still tense, suddenly back in therapy, “I-I brought you somethin’.” You push the crumpled bag of chips towards her as she relights her joint.

Her pink, doe-eyes flit between yours and the bag before she mumbles, “Thank you.”

“No problem…” You awkwardly set them on the windowsill, swallowing your guilt and deciding to take initiative, “I… I know you have a lot of things going on and I don’t wanna take up too much of your time… I’m just…”

The loud splattering of raindrops is nerve-wracking, “I wasn’t… I didn’t treat you well. College was a very hard time for me and I didn’t really know how to deal with it without being a bitch—”

Carbon leaves her nose, “Is that your excuse?”

“N-No, no! I’m not… I’m not tryna avoid blame. I was terrible and you — no one deserved what I put them through… I-I’m really sorry, Ellie… From the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry.”

Ellie’s silent. You have no idea what she’s thinking; She could be plotting to get you kicked out of her room right now and you wouldn’t know. Her stare isn’t angry, it isn’t anything… she just watches you. Every squeeze of your hands, bounce of your knee, every tic photographed in her memory. Just like before.

“Why're you back on campus?”

You exhale the breath you’d been holding, “Um… I gotta, like, TA job, I guess. With the art profs.”

“Still doing art, then, I guess.”

You stare down at your lap, “Yeah. Trying to.” You croak.

“Trying?” She asks, brows furrowed. Your shoulders bounce in a shrug. “I, err, hadn’t made anything in a while so… yeah. I thought it’d get me back into it.”

“Are you?”

“Hm?”

“Are you back into it?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Why were you so upset when I moved out?” Ellie’s tone shifts into something much more delicate, ready to crack and bleed open at any given moment. You can’t tell her, your brain bellows over the pleads from your heart. You can’t tell her how much you missed her!

Your jaw slacks dumbly as you search for a believable explanation, mind blanking under her scrutinizing stare.

“I was drunk. I-I don’t remember…”

“You were drunk and don’t remember.” You cringe at her tone.

“Ellie… I don’t wanna— “

“Don’t wanna what? Actually be fucking honest?” Your babbles are silenced as she rants. “You reached out to me and you can’t even answer one question honestly. Why’d you even come?” She seems so disappointed in your response, but what can you do? Tell her how every part of your body yearns to be next to her? How you almost collapse when you saw her for the first time in what felt like an eternity? How manipulative would that be after everything you’ve done?

Ellie’s index finger jumps on the armrest as silence takes over once more. She’s deep in thought, it seems, teeth nipping at the skin of her lip.

“Ellie— “

“When I moved out…” She repeats sternly, “you told me you didn’t want me to go. Why did you say that?”

It’s on the tip of your tongue: because I’m weak and I like you! I’m sorry I didn’t fight! I’m sorry, I'm sorry, I’m sorry!

“B-Because I didn’t want you to go…” You whisper between sniffles, wiping your nose with your sleeve.

“Why's that?”

“I… really liked having you around…” You chose your words very carefully, but they’re not a lie. “You’re… you’re really nice.”

That seems to satisfy her a little, “I’m really nice?” Ellie’s brow quirks, a tiny smile blossoming on her face.

“And funny.” You sob, “Like, I laughed a lot.”

“You’re funny, too,” Ellie says awkwardly while scratching her ear. Your heart pulses.

Her eyes search yours, “I didn’t know how I would react when you got here. The thought of seeing you really… fucking freaked me out.” She scoffs to herself, and your shoulders begin to droop. “But… um...” She pauses and your pulse pounds in your neck. Tears brim in your ducts. This is when she tells you to leave. To fuck off. To drop dead, for fucks sake—

“I’m glad you reached out.”

You gawk in disbelief before your bottom lip trembles, “Really?” You ask meekly. She simply nods.

“Me, too.” You’re really trying not to cry right now, but the softness in her gaze isn’t helping. She’s too sweet. You change the topic before you say something you’ll regret. You point to the bag of chips, “I really hope you like that flavor. I just grabbed it because I was overthinking.”

“I don’t know why you bought those. I still owe you a bag from what I remember,” She grabs them, squeezing the end until the other side pops open. She grabs four ships and crunches them all at once before extending the bag to you. You follow her lead and munch to your heart's content.

“I was never mad at you, y’know.” Ellie sets the bag down and reignites her roach. “I wasn’t, uh, innocent, either. We both fucked up,” She puffs and hands it to you. You've never smoked bud before, only stole a couple of Abby’s edibles a while back. She vowed never to smoke with you since you’re a tweaker.

You accept the charred-to-hell baby jay and stare at it. You shrug, “Wasn’t worse than me. How do I do this without burning my finger off?”

“Err… just breathe in and hold it.” She instructs. “Have you never gotten high?”

“I have. I don't— “

“Oh, yeaaah. Non-smoker. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you mumble before bringing the remnants up to your lips and sucking in. Nothing happens. Ellie snickers, “Not like that. It’s not a fucking lollipop. Just, like, fill your cheeks up and hold it.”

… Are you an idiot? “I don’t know what that means.” Ellie cackles like a witch at your lost expression, nearly falling over in her chair. Your cheeks burn and you try again, cheeks expanding to fill in the smoke. The second you inhale, you start choking, eyes bulging out of your skull from the burn in your chest.

Ellie finds your near-death experience fucking hysterical as she hollers from her seat. Tears stream down your face and the veins in your neck are bulging as you gasp for air. You’re never doing this shit again. Your lungs finally decide to spare you when Ellie passes you water from her dresser. You gulp that shit down like no tomorrow as Ellie’s giggles dwindle.

“What the,” cough, “fuck— “

“Fucking baby lungs,” Ellie mumbles with a grin. “You’ll be fine after a couple tries.”

You chug more water, “Girl… fuck you.” You gasp. Ellie’s grin turns cocky when her head tilts.

“Fuck me?” Her voice lowers and goosebumps rise on your skin. Your heart stops in your chest and your gaze falls to the floor as your tummy swirls in delight, cheeks fiery. You stand and Ellie sits up at your sudden alertness.

“Um… Like I said, thank you for taking the time to talk to me today. I really appreciate it.” Ellie stands to grab your arm when your feet slowly start backing towards the door.

Her smile drops, “I-I’m sorry. I was just kidding—”

“No, it’s fine! It’s not you! I just, uh… y’know what I mean?”

“… No.” She mumbles, “You don’t… have to go yet. You just got here.” She chuckles weakly.

“I just… don’t wanna… pry.” You whisper like it’s shameful. Ellie’s head shakes in denial, “You’re not! I’m… inviting you.”

Your eyes beg her to understand where you’re coming from. It’s not like you don’t want to, but the two of you just got back cool three seconds ago. The last thing you want to do is force yourself back into her life. Your relationship needs time to marinate and heal before anything else happens… if she allows it.

“I… I still miss Pickle?” You suggest with bright eyes, and Ellie’s soften despite her confusion. “Would it be okay if I see her?” You ask quietly.

Her mouth turns upwards, “How long are you in town?”

“I don’t know… These hotel bills are runnin’ my credit in the fucking mud.” You sigh.

“She’s with my dad right now. Come this weekend. I’m outta here on Friday, anyways.” She suggests, cheeks glowing in the dimming room. You hope Ellie doesn’t notice your dejection at the mention of her father… It still stings. Her eyes are so hopeful, meadows flurrying with excitement… and you can’t say no.

“…Okay.”

“Yeah?” She confirms, smile widening. You nod. “She misses you like crazy.” Ellie notes and tears get to cooking. You think about Pickle every day. Little munchkin.

“I miss her, too.” You sniffle. The hand that rests on your bicep slowly slides down your sleeve, closing around your wrist. Not strong, but her hold is steady. Ellie whispers your name.

“Hm?”

“I’m glad we’re… okay.” Your heart soars with adoration. Her eyes explore your face in admiration, and your body glows.

“Me, too. Thank you.” Ellie’s gentle gaze drops to your lips and you stiffen. Your hands clench when she moves an inch closer. It kills you to move away, and an inkling of hurt overcasts in her forest. She lets you go and backs away, “Sorry— “

Your head shakes desperately, “S’okay, I just think we should… move… slower?” You never fail to sound like an alien who just arrived on Earth, but Ellie seems to get it.

“Yeah, I… yeah.” Ellie stares at her sock-covered feet, red dusting her cheeks. You try to hide a smile while she walks you towards her door. She opens it for you, propping up against it.

“See you Friday?” You throw over your shoulder and Ellie grins. “See you Friday.” She parrots. You can’t stop cheesing even after she closes the door. You make your way back into your driver’s seat, heart bleeding with relief.

MAY, 2014

Her record is clean! I would’ve never expected this from such a great kid, your professor says to your father, But violence, especially to this extreme, is completely unacceptable—

What about what he did to me! You shout, and your father glares at your tone, He put his hands on me first! H-He—

Your body shudders in disgust at the recall of your classmate touching you the way he did. You were on your way to class when hands enclosed around your chest in a tight squeeze, all oxygen leaving your body. It was abrasive and made your skin crawl, and you swung. Your arms moved on their own until you were on top of him, his nose gushing blood while his friends attempted to pry you off.

There was laughter when he groped you. So many people — students that you see every day — all watched it, and no one came to your defense.

Your principal sighs with his palms up, I’m just trying to get to the bottom of what happened—

No, you’re not! I already told you what happened and you’re tryna make it seem like I’m lying! You stand and grab your bag off the floor, stomping towards the door to the office, Y’all can choke—

Your dad calls out for you, and your fingers twitch at his tone, but you keep walking, pushing past the double-doors of the school and towards the bike rack. Tears flood your eyes when the double doors slam shut, your father berating you about making a scene in public. You unlock your ride, blocking out his rampage that draws the security guard’s attention.

He put his hands on me, dad! You shriek as loud as you can between your cries, He put his hands on me! Why’re you yellin’ at me?

I’m not yelling at you! I’m yelling in general! You scoff and swing your leg over your bike, strapping your helmet on, I’m tryna understand what happened! You broke his goddamn nose! They’re boutta suspend you!

Imma be at Maya’s, you say, monotone. I’ll see you later.

Amaya isn’t even home. Your dad’s hollering his lungs out as you ride down the sidewalk, but you block it all out until the wind fills your ears like a monsoon. You’re not sure where you’re going, but it’s somewhere.

Hopefully somewhere you can cry to yourself without disturbance.

It’s your first day back at school since being suspended. Fuck everybody… except Amaya and Ceniyah. You probably would’ve switched schools if it wasn’t for them. You can’t wait to see them during lunch and tell them how fucked up it’s been staying at home.

Today has been weird as fuck, to say the least. Friends that you’ve grown used to talking to in the hallways have either disappeared or ignored you. It’s quiet around you, now, and you’re on edge. What the fuck is going on?

Walking into the cafeteria is frightening. It’s always loud, rowdy, hectic, but the minute you step foot inside, everything seems to stop. You grip your tray so tight; you think it’s about to snap, frantically searching for your girlfriend.

But your two favorite people are nowhere to be seen. You wander and come up empty-handed. Where the fuck are they—

Your thoughts are cut when a shoulder shoves right into yours. You throw your tray onto the nearest table. Laughter surrounds you before a snarky voice shriek in your ears.

Watch where the fuck you’re going,

No, you watch where the fuck you’re going. Dumb ass bitch, You spit. You're about to get suspended for knocking this broad out. Who even is this?

Coming from the slut who cheated on her girlfriend! Are you sure you’re a lesbian? Or are you going back to dick?

The entire room seems to collapse from top to bottom, crushing you beneath clutter in attempts to suffocate. You freeze when everyone turns to stare at the scene, some standing to surround you, hoping to see a fight. You release a shuddering breath as your fist clench.

… Cheated on your girlfriend? You love your girlfriend. You’re in love with your girlfriend, and she’s in love with you! What the fuck is this bitch talking about.

I think she’s going back to dick! One of them laughs, and the rest follow, and the entire room glows red.

Your knuckles are drenched in the color when your dad comes to pick you up.

PRESENT

Maybe being a TA is helping. You’ve finally pulled your sketchbook out of your work bag.

The point of your fine liner hovers over a blank page of your sketchbook. You can’t stop thinking about Ellie, and you don’t have many distractions.

It’s been so long since you’ve created anything, and frankly, your ass is clenched with anxiety. Never in your life would you think that creating art would wrack your nerves in such a way, but your insecurities are working hard. Probably the hardest they ever have. Once upon a time, your sketchbook was your safe haven, and now the feeling of blank pages feels like needles.

What if you’ve… lost your talent? You can see everything you want to make clearly in your head but your pen isn’t moving. The attempts at reigniting your passion would be pointless if you can no longer fucking draw. Your fingers are itching.

Maybe you should try that corny shit from the movies where they close their eyes and move their utensils on pure muscle memory… Maybe you should do fucking shrooms! Visuals always peak on psyches, according to the experts. At this point, why the fuck not—

“Son of a fucking — this is fucking stupid, bitch, jus’ fuckin’ draw,” you mutter to yourself in agitation. Just fucking draw! You do this! You do this, you do this!

Minutes pass and your paper is mussed with smudged, small ink marks from constantly moving your pen around, trying to find the right angle. Another piece of paper gone to waste. You fucking suck. You slam your pen down on the table.

You stand and start to pace, “Positive affirmations only,” You remind yourself aloud, “You got this shit, like, what the fuck. Everything’s gonna come back to you. You’re in a funk and tha’sit. It’ll pass, it’ll pass— “

Whoever your hotel neighbor is… Praying for their sleep schedule.

It’s going to be a long night.

“Hello?”

“Hi, kiddo. Sorry I missed your call. Your pet knocked out on my hand.”

Ellie giggles, “It’s cool. How ya been?”

“Fine… She’s a rascal, ain’t she? I found her head first in one of my flower pots. Her tiny legs were wiggling tryna get herself out,” His chuckles are like warm hugs, “How’s work?”

Ellie’s cackles calm, “Also fine… Err…Um… speaking of Pickle…”

Her dad hums, and Ellie sighs, “Remember when I told you about how I found her?”

“Yeah… You and that girl found the poor thing freezing to death outside… Why?”

“… Would you believe me if I said we somehow reunited by the grace of God and she’s coming back with me tomorrow?” Ellie squeaks, and her confidence drops when he exhales. It sounds heavy.

“Um… for what?”

“To see Pickle…”

“…Alright.”

“What’re you thinkin’,” She nips at her nails.

“Nothin’…”

“Dad…”

“I dunno what you want me to say, darlin’… Everything you’ve told me about her so far wasn’t… great to hear.”

Ellie rolls onto her back, “Yeah… I dunno. Something’s different about her now.”

“How so?”

She can’t tell him how badly your shielded eyes have taken a toll on her. How desperately she wants them to revert to the shining rivers they used to be. How badly her chest ached when you left her room last night, “I dunno. It just is…” She mutters weakly. Another heavy sigh.

“I mean… You’re an adult. I can’t tell you what to do anymore.”

“Don’t be like that, please.”

“Not being like anything. I can only accept.”

Ellie’s hand drags down her face in exasperation. The rants she relinquished onto her dad about you are making her nauseas.

“Just… be nice to her, please.” He hums begrudgingly.

“Dad, I’m serious. I feel like we… could be friends.”

“Friends… Alright.” He sounds skeptical, but he isn’t combative. She hopes he’ll keep it together when he sees you, “How should I plan for this friend when she gets here?”

Ellie smiles sadly, “Make eggplant parmesan…”

Her dad snorts, “… Since when do you like eggplant?”

Ellie grins, “I don’t.”

Why can’t black roses be real?

Ellie doesn’t seem like a flower girl, but she has a gigantic leaf imprinted on her arm for the rest of her life; She must appreciate the autotroph kingdom. Your mother always told you how fucked it is to enter people’s homes empty handed. Walmart usually pulls through with the awkward housewarming gifts, but they’re slacking in their garden selection today. Fuck your life.

You’re forced to settle on peonies… They’re pretty and all, but you’d prefer alliums for her. Maybe even a carnation. Plus, Amaya always told you to never buy flowers that sound like penis.

Amaya… Are you really about to break down in the frozen food section? Maybe. It’s time to go. You're shocked to find out you have more than ten dollars on your card. Fuck hotels, from the depths of your soul.

You set your purchase in the passenger’s side and pull up Ellie’s pinged location. She left way earlier than you. You would’ve carpooled, but you couldn’t miss these hours for this paycheck. How are you a struggling student and not even in school?

The drive is going to be long.

At least you have time to scream out your frustrations.

“Hey, Siri.”

… UH HUH?

“Play This Cold Black by Slipknot.”

PLAYING THIS COLD BLACK BY SLIPKNOT.

Your head thrashes as you back out of your parking spot.

“WELCOME HOOO— “

The ride wasn’t long enough, actually. Ellie’s dad’s house is right there. Like… right fucking there, and your voice is almost gone. Clouds are beginning to roll in over the neighborhood. The universe is fucking with you. Great.

You dump the last bits of water into the thirty-dollar, peony-stuffed vase before exiting your car, backpack strapped over your shoulder. You climb the brick staircase with a pounding heart.

“Okay,” You croak, “Hi. Nice to meet you, Mr. Miller. I heard my — our cat was with you—“ You rehearse and cringe. Why are you pressing him about a cat in his domain?

“Fuck, okay, wait,” You try again, “Hi, Mr. Miller, I’m Ellie’s, uh, friend. We were roommates some time ago— “

Some time ago? Who the fuck are you? Shakespeare? Emily fucking Brontë? Get a fucking grip.

You almost drop the fucking vase when the door opens. Your coughs are uncontrollable when you see Ellie, eyes flicking between you and the ring light camera. Why the fuck does she look so good? Cartier watch, black button up and slacks, hair… neat. She’s about to trigger your asthma!

“Uh… you okay?” She questions flatly. You’re still choking on your own esophagus, but you send her two thumbs up anyway. You’re great! Terrific! Immediately scared shitless when a… big ass man holding a black furball creeps up behind her. He’s not as dolled-up as Ellie and it makes you less insecure. Why the fuck do you have this hoodie on? You should’ve at least worn some trousers!

“Nice to meet you.” His voice sounds like grovel. Gravel? You can’t fucking think right now! He adjusts Pickle in his grasp so he can extend a polite hand out to you, “I’m Joel. I’m Ellie’s father,” He sounds courteous, but there’s something simmering beneath his pupils as he stares at you.

His grip is strong when you accept it. You’re going to vomit, “I-I’m — I mean, hi, I’m, uh… Me’n Ellie used to live together—“ You sound like a frog who just learned how to speak.

“I’ve been told.” He hums.

Meow!

You almost start bawling at your baby’s cry. She's so big now and her coat is so shiny! She’s eating well. Ellie accepts the flowers with dusted cheeks before stepping aside and allowing you entry. You’re instantly hit with the smell of garlic… Can the whole bloodline throw down in the kitchen?

“Nice home!” You crack and cringe. You cringe so fucking hard. They both say thanks in unison, but her father’s is gruff while Ellie’s is delicate like petals. She can’t stop staring down at the flowers. Joel finally sets Pickle down so he can head back into the kitchen, and she follows him without hesitation.

She doesn’t remember you. Your heart shatters.

“Thank you for the flowers,” You hear Ellie say from beside you. You swallow the lump forming in your throat with a smile. “No problem… You look, um, great.” And you smell like heaven. Like clouds before the rain.

Her face gets redder and she grins behind petals, “Thank you. I got called in today. For… editing and whatnot.”

You snicker, “Whatnot?”

“Shut up. C’mon.” You follow her into the kitchen where she sets the vase in the middle of the dining table before waddling towards her dad, who stands over the stove. You stand back and watch as she playfully punches his upper arm while he stirs the simmering pot, cracking jokes amongst themselves while Pickle paws at Ellie’s calf. Your doting smile vanishes at their laughter; What a little happy family. Are you breathing?

You turn to face the living room and breathe in as deep as you can, eyes glued to their maroon couch. You crack your knuckles and release the wind in your lungs before repeating.

“You’re okay, it’s okay. You knew what it was before you came,” you whisper to yourself. Ellie mentioned how close her and her dad were way before you got here, so why is the pain in your chest so sharp?

A hand comes down on your shoulder and you jump, “Sor — fuck, sorry — “

“Are you okay?” Ellie asks, concerned.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine! Jus’ looking around,” You laugh shakily and note the large paper crane on the TV stand. You point at it, “That’s so cool! Did you make that? I love origami.”

“No, my dad did— “

Fuck, “Oh— “

“Yeah, um— “

“D-Do you have a restroom?”

She observes with worry, “… Yeah, right down that hall, to the left— “

“Thank you, BRB,” You’re practically running to the fucking bathroom. The door closes and locks and you pace. They have a nice shower curtain: black and white stripes. You count them all from top to bottom.

“Your dad’s dead, fucking relax, it’s been like that, it’s been like that,” You exhale shakily, tremors building in your hands, “You’re fine, you’re fine, calm the fuck down.” You unzip your hoodie and ball it up before shoving your face in it. Your screams into it are muffled.

You come up for air and stare into the mirror, “You’re fucking fine. The food smells good as fuck and you’re gonna eat and you’re fine.” You open the door and… kitty’s staring at you. She’s sitting pretty and inspecting your disheveled appearance.

“Hi, baby. Remember me?” You squat and stick your hand out to her. She sniffs curiously before nipping at your pinky. “Ow,” you coo with a smile.

“She remembers you.”

Ellie’s leaning against the wall with her arms folded over her chest. You need her to stomp the fuck out of you with affection; She looks so fucking good, fuck—

“I hope,” you squeak and cough. It scares the shit out of Pickle and she runs.

Ellie’s gaze lingers on your bare arms. “Can we talk for a sec?”

“Yup.” Sound casual, you think. You sprinkle a shrug in there. She nods before heading down the hall and entering the last door. You can’t hide your shocked expression at the scenery.

Every inch of the room is covered in posters, most of them about galaxies and all their intricacies. There’s a red racecar bed covered in Regular Show sheets and pillowcases and a bunch of stuffed animals, dresser covered with discarded sticker papers and seemingly empty polaroid cameras. There are fairy lights dangling from the ceiling before coming down and around the bed frame, across the closet, and finally slung over her dresser. There’s little action figures and trinkets everywhere.

The door closes behind you, “… Is this your room?”

Ellie snorts, “It was. Not anymore.”

You laugh, “I’m fuckin’ with it. That bed is crazy, though.” Ellie joins in, scratching at her ear. She takes a few steps until she’s in front of you, still at a distance. Thank God; Any closer and your celibacy goes down the drain.

“Sorry I only brought flowers. I would’ve brought fucking… cake or something if I knew y’all were gonna cook.” Ellie waves you off.

“The flowers were pretty. Thank you.”

Your entire face is on fire, “Y’know what I mean…” You cough.

“Um… I just wanted to talk to you about something. About my dad.”

There’s a hole in your chest that’s expanding. She takes your silence as attentive, “He can be really overprotective… like, he’s kinda stubborn.”

“Oh… I see where you get it from,” You laugh weakly, clearing your throat when Ellie doesn’t. “Sorry.” You mumble. Ellie looks down at her feet, “Does he not… like me?” You ask quietly, embarrassed out of your fucking mind.

“It’s not that, he’s just… I told him a little of what happened between us. Not everything, just some of it!”

“The… bad part, I’m assuming?” Her silence is enough confirmation.

Ellie looks like Pickle when she’s guilty. You remember when she hopped onto the counter and knocked over your water cup, eyes large and pleading for forgiveness over the mess she caused.

“M’not mad,” You mumble, “I probably would’ve done the same thing.” Probably is used very strongly.

“I’m sorr— “

“It’s okay— “

A knock comes from the other side of the door.

“Come eat, you two!”

“Coming!” Ellie yells back before rubbing her hands together. “I’m really— “

“Ellie, it’s fine,” You reassure her with a light slap on her bicep… It’s quite hard. “C’mon, uh… I’m hungry?” You brush past her and head towards the door, holding it open for her. “After you?”

Ellie reminds you of a strawberry milk squishmallow when she eases past you, trying to hide her smile and pink cheeks. Your cheeks puff as you release the air in your lungs, shutting her door behind you.

This is the best eggplant parmesan you’ve ever tasted in your goddamn life. Too bad you can’t enjoy it due to Ellie’s hardcore mobster dad sending you deadly glares from across the table. He hasn’t said a word this entire meal, and you’re not anticipating the minute he does. He’s going to blow a gasket.

“D’you like it?” Ellie says lowly from beside you. You nod your head with two thumbs up. You can’t hide your smile when you notice all the gooey cheese and noodles eaten off the pieces of eggplant.

“It’s delicious. Thanks Mr. Miller.”

“Don’t mention it.” He sounds like he means it. Your heart drops and Ellie scowls at him. Your fingers clench around your fork and you scarf down what you can. It’s so good and you’re so scared and you want this meal to be over.

You're the last to clean your plate so you stand in a rush, gathering all of the plates and spoons off the table before scurrying to the sink.

Ellie pads close behind you, “Oh, you don’t have to— “

You cut Ellie off with a nervous laugh, “The least I could do.” The dishes clatter and you grab a sudsy sponge. You waste no time, scrubbing the living hell out of these dishes.

“Go sit down, Ellie.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand at his stern tone, “Wha— “

He slices through her refute, and still manages to sound calm, “Go.”

You continue to scrub, sighing at Ellie's descending stomps. Joel creeps into the open space in front of the sink, grabbing a dish and another sponge.

“Ellie told me you’re an artist.” He mutters over the running water.

“Yeah. Sorta.” You reply as calmly as you can.

“What are your intentions with my daughter?” He gets right to it, it seems. You scrub harder.

“Just… tryna make things right between us.”

“Why's that?”

Word vomit. You can’t help yourself. You’re so fucking nervous. “I-I fuc — sorry — I screwed over someone that was… really great. Your daughter’s a sweetheart and I feel awful with how things left off.” You stumble with a heated face. You catch the arch in his eyebrow and back pedal, “Not like we were — we weren’t dating or anything! Like, not like that! We just — “

“I was a student once upon a time. I know how these things go.” He snickers humorlessly. Your shoulders relax a smidge before he asks, “Why now?”

“Hm?”

“Why’d you wait so long to talk to her? The two of you graduated forever ago.” His tone is much calmer than it was seconds ago, but anxiety surges in your gut at his questioning.

“I didn’t wanna reach out without being in the right headspace. I had… a lot going on and I had to handle it. Therapy’s hard as fu — heck,” You sigh, “I still don’t think I’m doin’ a good job, but… I dunno, it earned me a Michelin star eggplant parm. Must be doing something right.”

You don’t expect Joel to laugh, but he does. It’s hearty and deep. Very dad-esque. Your heart crushes to dust all over again.

“Look, kid,” Joel sets the clean plate in the rack before grabbing another, “I wasn’t gonna say much, but Ellie seems to like you… a lot. More than most people.” Your heart flurries back into shape at his observation. You want to ask what a lot means exactly, but he continues.

“She’s… she gets very attached to people. I know it’s hard to believe but she’s very… sensitive,” His voice is low, but he’s not bullshitting in the slightest. The protective aura has returned and it’s radiating back onto you, pushing you back. Keeping you at a distance from him. From Ellie, “I’m never gonna shit on anyone’s journey, but frankly… if you’re not here to stay, I’d suggest leaving her alone now.”

This is definitely a threat. But you don’t feel threatened. You feel… sad. Joel is doing what any great dad would when faced with an outsider: armoring his cubs by any means. Something you’ve never experienced. If meeting Joel has shown you anything, it’s been what you’ve missed out on your entire life. Little does he know the last thing you want to do is separate from Ellie a second time. Another breakdown is bound to crash into you very soon. You forgot where the bathroom was.

You’re not going anywhere. Your heart won’t allow it. “I’m— “

You’re interrupted by a loud rumble, instantly followed by the heavy droplets of pouring rain. It sounds like pebbles are being thrown at all windows of their home; Is it hailing?

“Holy shit,” Ellie calls from the living room window, “Was it supposed to storm tonight?”

“Yeah, it was on the news,” Joel confirms. Ellie rushes over and points her eyes to you.

“You’re not driving in that.” She breathes out. Your heart fist pumps, but you maintain nonchalance.

You shrug awkwardly, “I don’t wanna pry— “

“Nah, she’s right. We have a guest room.” Joel sighs, “Ellie, show her where it is. I’ll finish up in here.”

Ellie’s hand closes around your wrist before guiding you down the hall. The bathroom’s right across from the guest room. On the left side, you note.

“Fuck a guest room. You’re staying with me.” She mumbles and opens the cupboard. She grabs you some sleep shorts and presumably her father’s sweatshirts. You try to convince yourself that the strong pounds in your chest are from fear of the storm, and not at all from a lesbian slumber party.

… Fuck.

The storm is roaring outside. And Ellie’s chiefing in neon astronaut jammies. This feels like a fever dream.

“They glow in the dark.” Ellie hums around a cloud of smoke from where she sits across from you on the bed. You pause your gawking, “Huh?”

“My pjs glow in the dark. Wanna see?” Her eyes sparkle and your heart sprouts legs and sprints around in your ribcage.

“Fuck yeah.” You gasp. Ellie’s teeth shine before she puts her joint between her lips and leans across her bed to shut her lamp off. Every fiber of your being tries to not lock onto the smidge of skin that appears from under her sweatshirt when she stretches. The room goes dark around the neon pink and green outlines of the design. You choke out a laugh at the pigmentation; How the fuck are they so bright!

“Sorry if this is boring. I’ve never had a sleepover before.”

“Shut up, that’s cool as fuck! You gotta battery pack in there or somethin’?” Ellie giggles out a no. A smile stretches wide across your face when you look up at her, hers just as bright. “Are you sleepy?” You ask.

“Not at all,” she hums as she switches the lamp back on.

“We could play a gaaame,” You suggest sing-songy.

“Oh, fuck. Like what.” Ellie huffs a laugh.

“Truth or dare is a sleepover classic— “

“I’m not licking a toilet seat.” Ellie states flatly. Laughter explodes from you at her face. “I’m not a crazy dare-er like that. The most you’ll have to do is prank call an ex or some shit.”

“I don’t have an ex.”

“Oh… Well, a family member.” Ellie nods in acceptance. “Can I ask first?” She asks.

“Mhm. Lay it on me.”

“Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Show me what’s in your backpack.”

“…Fuck.” You sigh, and Ellie cackles. “Were you planning this shit?” You ask and stand, walking over to the dresser where your bag sits. You grab it and hand it to her. She wastes no time, stubbing her joint out before rummaging through your shit, sifting through loose-leaf paper and markers used for coloring. You plop down onto her bed and she pulls out your sketchbook.

“Is it okay if I look?”

“I dunno,” You smirk, “Can I finally see your fucking portfolio?”

“Come home with me tomorrow,” she says instantaneously, “It’s there. You can see it.”

“… Then yes.”

She flips through pages and pages of visuals you’ve created before your father’s passing. They range from sloppily scribbled orchids, to immaculately shaded depictions of eggplant farms. Ellie giggles when she finds a small comic of Pickle playing with her favorite mouse toy.

“She still has it.”

“Good,” you whisper. You watch as she studies each page to her heart’s content, fingers dragging across lines that catch her attention. “You’re so good,” she says softly, awestruck and eyes sincere. Your gaze drops to your lap.

“Thanks,” you match her volume. She hums and flips to the next page. You eye the ashtray on her bed before snagging it, snatching her lighter and igniting the joint. Ellie eyes you like a hawk.

“I watched a tutorial on how to become a professional pothead… I think I got it down.”

“Show me.” She whispers and your stomach jolts.

Smoke leaves the lit end of the J and you flick the lighter off. You bring it to your lips and puff your cheeks full of smoke, inhaling as deep as you can before your lungs squeeze. You cough and heave tearfully and Ellie leans in to rub your back.

“That was better.” She says softly. “I was gonna dare you to hit it anyway.” Your coughing fits calm and you swallow.

“Shit,” You say. Ellie takes the joint from you and hits it like a fucking pro. She's much closer than she was seconds ago. You examine how her lips curl around the roach, cheeks expanding around carbon before inhaling, allowing the remainder to leave in a bunch of circles.

“You really blowing O’s right now?” You think you hit it right this time. The jitters you’ve had all day are beginning to dwindle.

She smiles mischievously, “Mhm.”

“Truth or dare?” You mumble.

“… Truth.”

“Did you think about me… after you left?” If you were to lean forward an inch, Ellie’s nose would touch yours. Nose hug. Her face spots are so adorable.

“Yeah. A lot.” She passes the J back to you and you accept it boldly. You’re releasing your stress with every exhale. Ellie was right; Smoking does feel good.

“What’d you think about?”

“Isn’t it my turn?”

“No.” You smile.

She shrugs, “I dunno. Just…” Her gaze falls onto her stuffed tabby cat.

“I feel like you’re boutta say something nasty.” You snicker.

“Wha — no! The fuck— “

You mock her, rubbing all over yourself, “I thought about your hands, ooo, aaa— “

Ellie smacks your arm a bunch of times before pushing you back onto the bed. You’re howling laughter over her whining, “Bitch, that’s you! Don’t think I forgot about that shit you pulled in the car!”

“You have nice hands! What can I say,” You slur with a dumb grin, “You have, like… classic lesbian hands. All you need is some Hot Topic rings and all the hoes gon’ flock to you.” You take one last toke before the lit end can reach your fingers, stubbing it on the ashtray.

Ellie seemingly ponders with the theory, “… Is that why a milf ate me out at the club?”

Your neck almost snaps when it cranes to look at her, “What the fuc— “

“Yeah. Craziest experience I ever had. Like, in my life.”

“Fuck, Ellie…” Your head flops back onto her Lightning McQueen blankets. “Was it good?”

“I… I guess. I came.”

You stare at the star stickers on her ceiling. “You guess?” She only hums.

“But…”

“Hm?” You urge her to continue.

“She didn’t… kiss me.” She whispers like it’s dirty to say out loud. You slowly blink at the opaque walls. “I mean, she did, but it wasn’t a real one.”

“Shame on her.”

Ellie maneuvers so she’s lying on her back beside you. “Yeah…”

“Ellie?”

“Hm?”

“Were you a virgin before I touched you?”

You expect her to slap the shit out of you again, but she doesn’t. She takes one deep breath before muttering, “Yes.”

You stop yourself from melting into her bed, turning on your side and propping yourself up on an elbow, gazing down at her. Her eyes are wide as saucers as she looks up at you. You can see her fingers twitching around her pillow, squeezing the fabric of the case. Right on Rigby’s nose.

“A-Are we still playing truth or dare?” She whispers, her breath hitting your face. She smells like oranges. You shake your head, tongue rolling over your lips. “No.” Your free hand lands on her hip and squeezes. Her jaw slacks around a gasp.

“… Oh.”

“Oh?” You want — need to kiss her so badly. Steal all the oxygen from her lungs so that she has no other choice but to breathe from you. Only you. Your vision is hazy with each travel over her face. She looks so soft, so pliant, so ready and prepared for you to take from her. Just like you hoped.

Your hand travels, pushing her sweatshirt up just above the waistline of her pants, fiddling with the knot right under her bellybutton.

You pull at the string until it loosens, “She gave you head?”

“T-The milf?”

“Yeah. The milf.” Aggravation seeps through your tone. Ellie’s hips twitch.

“… Yeah?” She coughs. You hum and hook your thumb under the band and inch them down. They aren’t even off all the way and you can tell she’s naked underneath.

“How good was it?”

“I don’t… know?”

“Yeah you do. How good was it?” You snip, and Ellie winces. “I-I squirted.” She trips over her words and your clit jumps. You don’t say anything, and she seems sad.

“… Are you mad at me?”

“No.” Your tone says otherwise. You’re not mad. You don’t know what you are. You don’t like what she’s telling you, though. Fuck milfs… You love them with your entire heart, but fuck them.

… Yeah. You’re high as shit.

You sit up and she moves to follow you, but you push her down and she goes limp under your touch.

“Don’t move. Just lay there.”

She pouts and you almost kiss it, “Don’t be mad.”

“I told you I’m not.” You swing a leg over her waist and she sighs dreamily. “How many times did you come.” You’re not asking; She’s going to tell you. You raise her sweatshirt up over her breasts.

“T-Two — Two.” She moves to throw her sweatshirt over her head but you snatch her wrists, pinning them right on the cushiony mattress. She doesn’t fight you.

“I want you quiet. Your dad’ll kill me if he hears you.”

Her eyes go glossy and twinkle, “Okay— “

“I mean it. Don’t say shit.”

“M’not gonna,” She whines before her mouth clamps shut. You give her overlapped wrists one last threatening squeeze, watching her fingers go lax before releasing her. You cup her tits and her eyes flutter shut, teeth sinking into her lower lip. You mouth at the valley between her tits and her back arches to follow each swipe of your tongue.

You kiss all over her ribcage, almost feeling each erratic thump of her heart under your tongue. She keens when your tongue flicks over the rising bud of her nipple, thighs squeezing around your hips. Your mouth latches onto the skin right above her areola, teeth sinking into it before sucking. Her hips raise and she’s breathing like she’s about to faint, and you grin like a fox.

You don’t let up until a wet maroon mark is left on her tit before swiftly switching to the next one, leaving a much harsher spot on the raised skin. An eager hand scratches down her torso until it brushes the patch of hair that peeks out from under her pants.

You shove your hand beneath the light cloth and your fingers are drenched in seconds. Your walls squeeze around nothing when you feel her clit jump in excitement. Her squishy lips spread around your middle and index fingers, her throbbing bundle of nerves cinched between them. She keeps making fucking noise and the walls seem to shake.

“What’d I say.”

“I — m’sorry, can’t h-help i— “

“Be quiet, Ellie.” Your fingers slip over her messy clit in slow, teasing circles. You release her skin until it’s blistering and bruised, quickening the pace of your fingers and she pulses in your hand. Your tongue swirls around her nipple once more, cheeks hollowing when you suckle.

Your eyes search for hers but her head is thrown back, neck strained and veins popping from beneath her skin. Your lips release the skin and your drippy hand leaves her pants. Your nipples harden under your tee when she reaches for your retreating form, fingers digging into your sweats.

Her pants are yanked down and tossed across the room, her toes curling in her rainbow-striped socks when your hands hook under her knees to push them up to her chest. Her arms entangle under her bent legs to hold them out of your way.

“I could fuck you right now with no problems.” You exhale in a daze, “S’fucking drippin’.” You envision how good her pussy will swallow whatever pops in, how easy it’ll stretch around something thick—

Ellie’s eyes shine like you offered her candy and her hole clamps down hard. You chuckle. “You want that?”

Her head bounces off the pillow in rushed nods. If your mouth wasn’t so fucking dry, you’d be slobbering all over her pussy. “Remember what I said?” You remind her, and she plants a heavy hand over her mouth. You kiss her ankle in appreciation.

Your fingers move on autopilot, massaging her clit a few more times before inching down, your index pushing past the tight, gripping muscles. Your finger’s swallowed whole in an instant and Ellie’s trying her hardest to mask her squeaks. “Fuck me,” you sigh when she takes another finger with no hassle, walls engulfing your digits in wetness. Her scent is surrounding you and it’s intoxicating.

“Missed you s’bad— “

“Missed you more, baby. Missed this pussy,” You’re pussydrunk and you’re slipping. That spot in her cunt becomes plumper with each press of your fingertips, “She fucked you better than me?”

Ellie’s denial is convincing, but that sick part of your brain doesn’t believe her. She loved being touched by someone, wanted by someone. Someone who wasn’t you, and you’re livid, “Nooo— “

You slice through her whine, “No?” Your smile is sadistic and your fingers are relentless, “You said her name like you said mine?” You grit and her eyes cycle into her skull, her hair sticking to her forehead. She’s trying to keep her voice down when she whispers how she only thought about you when she made a mess. She wanted you there, she says, she needed you there to take care of her.

“Y’fuck me s’good, fuck— “

Your eyes are dead, “I’ll hurt you. Be quiet.”

Fear flashes beneath her desire and she listens, keeping her sobs to a minimum. The sloppy, wet sounds of her pussy overtake the entire room the harder you fuck in, her nails tearing into her Pikachu stuffie on the corner of her bed. A string of drool dribbles from her bottom lip to her sweatshirt, her eyes glowing under the dimly lit lamp.

Her walls shake and throb on you, “Gonna cum, baby?” You grin manically at her dumbed-out expression, cheeks wet and eyes droopy. You coo at her and force in as deep as you can, curling your fingers up, fighting against the tight contractions of her walls.

“Make a mess on me, baby, I gotchu, c’mon— “

A long, drawn-out moan escapes Ellie’s lips, and you’re so hypnotized by the heavy spray of juices that lands on your thigh that you don’t even bother to shut her up. She’s drenching her sheets and blankets and you and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. You’re fucking wave after wave out of her and she’s practically riding your hand, groaned curses and dazed squeaks of your name bouncing off the walls.

It feels like minutes pass when her orgasm slows, inner thighs drenched and dripping with slickness. Ellie’s entire body shakes and her thighs squeeze around your hand as she attempts to catch her breath, but you’re not done. You’re not satisfied. She didn’t give you enough.

You climb onto her and your lips connect in a simmering kiss, her wet mouth smacking against yours. Her cold hands land on either of your cheeks and your hips roll downward on hers. She whines into your mouth and tries to meet your hips but you force them back onto the mattress. She yanks at your shirt in attempts to rip it off but you don’t let up, lips slipping down to connect with her neck.

Your wrist twists downward until you're met with her sticky bush once more, spreading her lips apart and shoving your fingers back inside her. She chokes a wet gasp when they hit right where she needs, her arms wrapping around the back of your neck to hold you close. You’re babbling nonsense in her ear as you work her, telling her how she’s stuck with you, how you’re never leaving her side again, demanding that she says you're the best she’s ever had. And she does, and either you’re fucked out of your mind, or she means it.

You barely catch how your hips move like you're fucking her, driving into her as hard as you can and she takes it, stretches her legs wider so you can reach the spots she’s never been able to on her own. She’s saying your name like a prayer, like it’s all she’s ever known, and it’s breaking you down, only to build you back up so you can crash back into her. You missed her so fucking bad and you’re unleashing all of your feelings on her body and she eats all of it. How could you leave her when she fucking needs you this badly? You’ll never forgive yourself.

She’s warning you, crying about how you’re going to make her squirt again, begging you to slow down because she can’t take what you’re giving her, but you feel so good and you know she does, too. You can’t stop even if you want to. You want to drain her, live inside her for the rest of your days on Earth. You’re forcing space for you inside her.

Her nails dig into your shoulders as she cums. She’s unapologetically loud and it flows directly in your ear, and your own noises leave your mouth and land onto the clammy skin of her throat. The jets of fluid that leave her are stronger than the last, and you laugh. Laugh in ecstasy and joy and pleasure that you can’t even feel, but it’s there. Right in your chest.

You’re not done. You’ll never be done with her.

The night evaporates with you in between her legs, slurping every bit of cum and stress that you may have caused since knowing her from the source until the sun shines through her blinds, drinking from her like you’ll die without her taste on your tongue. She lets you do whatever you need to feel satiated, but it’ll never be enough now.

You’ll never be done with her.

Ellie’s naked form jolts awake when ticklish breaths hit her shoulder.

You’re beneath her, slumped, pantsless legs entangling hers and arms twisted every which way as you slobber and snore. A smile grows on Ellie’s face at your peaceful expression; She’s never slept that good in her own bed. She doesn’t want to wake you, but she has to pee so fucking badly.

She shifts in her position and instantly cringes at the soreness in her legs. Warmth coats the crests of her cheeks when she sees the discarded sheets and pillowcases that were changed only hours ago on the floor, head plopping onto your shoulder to hide in your neck. Your snoring gets cut by a guttural cough and Ellie laughs to herself when your snores pick up again.

She’s not a morning person in the slightest, so why the fuck is she so happy? Is this the post-sex glow that her friends always tell her about? Is she still considered a virgin if you only used your fingers and tongue? She doesn't feel like one… Sex rules are fucking dumb. She stops stressing before she ruins her morning.

The pangs in her bladder are getting on her nerves; She wants to cuddle. She sighs and shifts on top of you, trying her hardest not to disrupt your deep slumber. She manages to separate and clothe herself before waddling down the hall and into the bathroom, trying to ignore the aches in her thighs. You wrecked her shit… What the hell.

The second she leaves the bathroom, she smells coffee. Her dad’s up. She might vomit.

The two of you weren’t that loud. Definitely not. He couldn’t have heard. He didn’t hear! Ellie’s stealthy as she tiptoes through the hall… until the fucking floorboards croak from beneath her and she nearly faints.

“Come out, dipshit. I know it’s you.”

Her eyes squeeze shut and she curses to herself. She reluctantly appears from behind the wall, her dad sitting comfortably on the couch with a filled mug and newspaper, Pickle napping on his lap. He peeks from above his reading glasses.

“Think we needa talk.”

“… Fuck me.” She whispers before shamefully limping into the living room. She flops onto the couch and glues her eyes onto the decorative rugs under the coffee table.

“She seems nice.” Her dad sips his mug. Ellie’s face burns.

“She is.” She mumbles. You took such good care of her after last night. You got her in the shower, brushed her teeth for her when she was damn near sleepwalking, watched her down two bottles of water. Her heart flutters at how soft your eyes turned when you kissed her to sleep.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“… I dunno.” He hums and sips.

She doesn’t know. You’re not dating, but Ellie thinks you like her… She thinks. She likes you… a lot. She bites at her nails.

“You like her?” He asks lowly; She knows he knows.

“Yeah…” Ellie whispers, cheeks rising on their own. She covers her face when he smiles.

“Just… take your time.” Joel advises gently, “Did she tell you she’s in therapy?”

Ellie’s ears perk and her brows furrow, “No.” She sits up. Her dad’s gaze softens, “Wait til she brings it up, then. Y’all should talk before things get serious. It’s only been a couple days.”

Ellie knows her dad is right, but it’s hard to control herself when she’s around you. She naturally gravitates towards your aura; It’s comforting and she doesn’t want to lose it again.

A gentle clatter comes from her bedroom and she stands. You’re awake.

“I love you, kiddo,” Joel says, and she smiles softly. “Love you, too.”

She scurries down the hallway and enters her bedroom, seeing you sprawled out on the floor, all wrapped in sheets.

Your eyes are droopy when you croak, “Hello.” Ellie snickers.

“Hi. What happened.”

“I was reaching for, like… an orb in my dream and I guess I did it in real life,” Your voice gets so raspy in the morning, and it tickles her ears. Ellie can’t stop laughing. She helps you stand before kissing your cheek.

“Good morning,” she wraps her arms around your neck.

“M-Mornin’,” You squeak, eyes flitting around, “Uh… How'd you sleep?”

“Good.” She’s lost in your brown eyes. They’re warm like the sun. Why won’t you look at her?

She follows your line of vision down to your fiddling hands before whispering, “You okay?” You simply nod. Ellie’s heart stutters nervously.

“Do you still wanna come over later?”

“… Yeah.” Your attempts to disguise your stiffness fail. Ellie feels a lump forming in her throat when she detaches from you, and you search for the new pair of pants she gave you before you went to bed. Ellie watches silently, crestfallen. Something she did triggered your aloofness, so she turns to leave the room.

Her voice cracks, “I’m gonna… shower again— “

“Ellie.”

She turns, “Yes?”

Her fists clench when you walk until you’re standing in front of her, warm hand coming up to hold her cheek before kissing her. It’s soft and makes Ellie’s fingers thrum with excitement. It only lasts seconds before you pull away, and Ellie chases your mouth.

“I’d love to come over. I think we… should talk about some things.” You say quietly, and Ellie silently agrees. You let her go and she wants nothing but for you to pull her in once more, shrouded in your warmth.

You’re making her bed when Ellie leaves for the bathroom, body falling against the door to calm herself down. You’re not upset with her, and you want to come over… to talk, whatever that means.

The hot water burns her skin; She spends her entire shower thinking about how she can make you as happy as she feels.

taggiessssss :3 @dyk3ang3l @ellieloml @inf3ct3dd @fromminaa @womenofarcane @sawaagyapong @mina-281 @aouiaa @bbglmfao @i00rii @sakiigami @starologist @southelroys @diddiqueen @trackinglessons @ellieswhorcrux @villainousbear @p4ison1vy @tohoko @yuckyfucky @dollyfleurs @elsbunny222 @sevsbimbo @amiorca @alittlextrahoney @gato-chino @topiatwin @r3wbeef @elliesatchel @muthafuckingstargirl @callmewhenyoukan @macaroni676 @draculurasblog @ellieaesp @@gravygranules @elsblunt

#in frame ✎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･#ellie williams smut #ellie williams au #ellie williams angst #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #the last of us 2 #black!oc #black!reader #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪

570 notes · View notes

fushigur0ll · 11 months

Text

EARTH42! MILES BF HCS

꒰ ♡ ꒱- x black fem!reader

earth42!miles who loves you and cares for you so much other then his mom and uncle. he’s the best bf you can ask for as much as he looks so nonchalant and cold from the outside, he’s the most sweetest and romantic person on the inside.

earth42!miles swings by your house when he hasn’t seen you in at least a few hours to a few days or a week. he apologizes when he realizes that you’ve been neglected for a while and spends his time with you as much as he can before he heads back to deal with the world he and you both live in

one thing about earth42!miles is that he never forgets a date or special occasion. he can be busy, yes but he will never forget your birthday, anniversary or any other occasion. one time, it was your birthday, he had sent you money to go buy yourself whatever you wanted and when you were done, you came home with bags on your wrists, hair and nails done, and a cute outfit you had worn to go out. you had almost dropped your bags when you seen your bf standing in the middle of your room, with a bouquet of pink and purple flowers, gifts upon gifts on your bed with plushies and other cute stuff he would always see you stare at when you two would be out together as well as snacks that you assume you both will use in a bit to cuddle and watch movies. you put your bags down, frowning when feeling yourself tear up. he smiles at you softly putting the flowers down and widening his arms for you to walk into his chest, holding him tightly.

“happy birthday, ma”

you smile and feel his fingers tilt your head up to passionately lock lips, holding each other close as the atmosphere is perfectly set. the sky was orange and yellow with spots of red and purple even as the brightest star known as the sun sets down, it cracks through the curtains and widely shows from the balcony that was open from miles coming through that way inside your room. he slowly unlocks his lips from yours with his eyes still closed, the kiss lingering on his lips still. he pecks your lips once more before cupping your face and watching you stare at him softly.

“i love you”

you tear up at how soft you feel right now it’s unexplainable. he notices the tears building up in your eyes and chuckles, rubbing his thumbs across your cheeks and under eye.

“my crybaby”

you scoff and roll your eyes playfully, placing your palms flat on his chest.

“i love you more baby..thank you for this, like really- i can’t even speak i’m just so happy” you smile and look at everything he’s got you.

“anything just to see you smile mami”

then for the rest of the evening, you both looked over the stuff he’s got then watched a bunch of movies you both enjoyed and ended the night in each others arms. you asleep with a small smile on your lips too with miles holding you close to him. your body was practically on him, one leg wrapped around his waist with your arms hugging his torso and head to his chest. he rubs the soft skin of your thigh as well as your arm as he stares at you just thinking about how happy he was to have someone like you with him in a world this hectic and a spider-verse so chaotic. he even thinks about marrying you one day but he knows he’ll have to wait till that day comes. his life was still crazy and will do anything to keep you out of it..well..he tried to but you found out anyway and ever since then he told you about anything that was bothering him or stressing him out as much as he didn’t want to put his burdens and issues on you but it felt extremely nice to have someone listen to him without judging him in any way and that’s one of many hundred reasons he’s so in love with you

earth42!miles who will take you out on dates that isn’t extravagant but simple and perfect for the both of you. picnic, park, and beach dates are something you hold near and dear to your heart. any date you go on with your boyfriend is always something to remember. as much as he doesn’t look like the type to take you out on dates, he doesn’t mind it at all. you both could be strolling through the park late at night, his arm around your shoulder as you talk about your day at school and work right after. he listens to everything you say and just loves it when you ramble, as much as he won’t confess that he does. you both can also be at the park, pushing you high on the swing and hearing you yelp, laugh and giggle. it’s his favourite thing in the world..but again…not like he’s gonna admit it to you but you see his small smile so he’s not that slick.

earth42!miles who will allow you to touch and braid his hair other then his mom. he sits on the floor with your legs on either side of him and your hands just work on his hair, taking out his braids.

“damn- baby my head is tender as it is” he groans and rubs the tender spot on his head

“oh, i’m sorry miles, i’ll be more gentle…and that means you need to oil your hair more boy” you scold him lightly, shaking your head when you hear him chuckle

“yes ma’am”

you help him wash, condition, shampoo his hair and when everything all done, you put his hair right back into his lovely braids and thanks you with a lingering kiss to the corner of your lips

“thank you ma”

all earth42!miles loves doing is spoiling you. you barley ask- let me rephrase, you don’t ask for him to take you shopping because he will just gladly take you on a random day out of the week at anytime. you always ask for his opinion because he does have good taste. he does enjoy moments like these with you and people would think he’s bored walking around the store with his girlfriend but really and truly, he loves going out with you and once again, he won’t admit it to you at all!!

lastly, earth42!miles loves you from the spider-verse and back. ever since he got with you, it’s made him happier then he was before. way before he met you, he was dealing with so much issues, responsibilities and burdens that was hard to take..but you’ve made it all better and made him hopeful for everyday to come with you by his side, showing how much he loves you everyday he sees your pretty self.

what can i say

earth42!miles is a nonchalant sucker in love

#—fushi’snotes #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #across the spiderverse #earth42 miles x reader #earth42 #earth42!miles x reader #spiderverse x reader #miles morales #x black reader #x black fem reader #miles morales x reader #across the spiderverse x reader

1K notes · View notes

wonwoonlight · 10 months

Text

dear autumn / jeon wonwoo

➝ Wonwoo x Reader (ft. Joshua, Seungcheol, Mingyu, etc.)

➝ nonidol!au // angst???? // romance // fluff?????? // drama...ish??? // soulmate!au // somewhat past life!au

➝ word count: 18k (lol🧍🏻‍♀️) // playlist🎶

➝warnings: curses, lots of pov changes i'm sorry lol, i'm honestly not sure if the pace is a abrupt or not?, i'm not sure how you'll like this OC, she cries quite a lot towards the end sddfgd, that's about it i think

➝A/N: happy birthday, wonwoo❤ shoutout to @ahundredtimesover who's not even a carat but readily brainstormed with me when i asked🥺😭 also special thanks to @sleeplessdawn @twogyuu @savventeen for sparing your time to talk with me when i was unsure where to go with the plot💕💕 i'm gonna talk more on the author notes at the end instead of here. enjoy! hope you'll like this and don't hesitate to drop by and tell me what you think abt it even if you... don't like it sdjhfbsjhdf

In a world where everyone bears the soulmate mark to find the one heaven perfectly made for them, Wonwoo is an outlier with no marks in sight. But he has more pressing matters to attend to because he remembers his past life and the promise he made to his soulmate that he’d find her again no matter what. Alternatively, He didn’t think he’d be reborn in a world where you are made for someone else.

Wonwoo isn’t sure when it began. But he’s eighteen when he knows why they appeared and realizes that the memories in his head do not belong to his current lifetime.

They come to him through his dreams; sometimes long, sometimes short. At first, he thinks his mind is just playing games with him, but when he wakes up with an almost perfect recollection of whatever his older self in the dream did, he eventually realizes they aren’t simply dreams.

They’re his memories from another lifetime. Which one, he’s not sure. Wonwoo imagines they’re pieces of a puzzle–a very big one–making a bigger picture he doesn’t really understand at first until he does. Until it clicks one day why the dream has been getting longer and why he’s getting them in the first place.

He’s not himself when the dream happens, more like a shadow that watches from the sideline. He’s been seeing this older self of his for quite some time; he can’t be much older than he is now, probably in his mid twenties or so.

It was weird at the beginning, knowing how he’d look (looked?) in the future (...in the past? Fuck, this is confusing), but it was even weirder to watch himself with a girl that he seemed to be so very much in love with. Not that he can’t blame his other self. They’re soulmates, after all, if the identical marks on their wrists mean anything.

The word doesn’t even sound bitter in his lips anymore, and he wonders if it ever was.

Sure, he used to question why he’s an outlier and why he deserved to have no one when everyone else around him has someone predestined for them–someone that the universe deems just right and someone that will complement them in ways unimaginable.

He’s never angry though. Just a little lonely.

It’s not easy to be surrounded by people who are happy with their fate, who have someone that they know is their person for as long as eternity allows them to live. People are subtle with their pity when it comes to him and Wonwoo would like to think it probably has to do with the fact that Wonwoo doesn’t seem bothered at all.

Outliers aren’t that rare; perhaps one every one hundred people or so, and they’re not ostracized from society, just that they need to handle the pitiful looks every now and then–which never stops being annoying.

Wonwoo knows there’s a community for people like him though he has never been one to seek companies. He’s fine the way he is. He’d attend their gatherings when it’s one of the rare days he feels like being social, but he doesn’t attend enough to feel any kind of kinship towards them. They’re just some people who he somewhat sympathizes with.

Naturally, it means the community becomes a place where people try to find their romantic partner. After all, it is frowned upon if you try to date someone with a soulmate even if they haven’t met their other half.

…Which makes it awkward when they break up because even if the community isn’t very small, they’re still a minority and they need to stick together.

Hence, Wonwoo never really bothers.

It’s not like he’s into the concept of romance. When he was a kid, it simply didn’t appeal to him. During high school, games were more worthy of his time than anything. And during university… How could he when he’s been dreaming of the same girl over and over again? Any other romance potential simply didn’t register in his mind. His parents, who obviously had no idea about the dreams, tried to talk to him about it; to try dating and find love but quickly changed their insistence once they realized their son wasn’t too bothered himself.

He doesn’t even know if she’s alive in this lifetime, and yet…

“You’re really moving, huh?” Seungcheol brings him out of his mind, reminds him that he’s packing and he needs to get things done.

“They knew I’d be the one most willing to move away.” He shrugs. “Everyone else has their significant other here. Pretty sure they asked Namjoon first but with his pregnant wife and all–yeah.”

“I’m sure you’re still a choice because you’re competent.” The older guy reassures him. “What do you need me to do to help?”

“Help me throw away those bags in the living room, please.”

“Got it.”

Five minutes later, Seungcheol pops back into his bedroom.

“Are you throwing this away too?”

Wonwoo looks at the postcard in his hands, a look of recognition passes through his face before he takes it from him before he says he’s keeping it. The older guy throws him a curious look, but Wonwoo doesn’t offer any explanation so he leaves him be and returns to the living room.

“Autumn, huh.” He mutters to himself as he stares at the rows of yellow trees and ginkgo leaves adorning the ground on the postcard.

Autumn in the city is beautiful, Wonwoo has heard. He doesn’t know how it would be more beautiful there than here with the buildings and the busy lifestyle, but perhaps he’ll take the time to find out now that he’s moving there.

Maybe he’ll find out once he’s seen it himself.

And maybe…

Maybe he’ll also–

“Should we have some jjajangmyeon for lunch? I’m starving, man. Think I’d be able to eat two servings and an entire plate of dumplings. What about ordering some shrimp also? I think–”

Yeah.

Maybe.

Four months pass by in a blink and July comes around.

The city life is better than Wonwoo expected, but it’s not like he has any particular expectations to begin with. He’s a twenty six years old doing a regular job, living a regular life. He doesn’t have any grand plans in life, doesn’t strive to climb the corporate ladder nor make any difference in the world.

By theory, he should be some kind of a main character: an outlier with no soulmate mark and memories of a past life? Wonwoo would’ve written a book had he possessed any sort of literature gifts. But he can even barely express himself, let alone pour them into writings, so there goes his spotlight.

Plus, it’s not like he has ever told anyone about the memories. He tries looking things up online, and except for some ridiculous claims that were eventually proved to be false, he barely finds anything about it that would help. And if he could find nothing in the wonderful, vast world that is the internet, he doubts he would find answers in the real world.

So he’s just another guy. Another Jeon Wonwoo in the sea of people that would pass by people’s lives and lots would forget about.

And he doesn’t mind.

He really doesn’t.

But if there’s anything he could wish for…

He looks down at the small birthday cake his brother has ordered from the delivery app for him on behalf of his parents, the package greeting him in front of his door when he has just gotten back from work. He doesn’t really celebrate his birthdays, and usually only does so if the people around him encourage him to, namely Seungcheol and his family.

Though, now that he’s actually by himself in a city he’s still trying to get familiar with, it does feel a little lonely to be celebrating it alone, if you can even call it that. At least there’s a cake from his family and he might as well keep up with the tradition.

He lights up the ‘27’ candle and stares at it for a few seconds before he closes his eyes and makes a wish. A familiar smile he’s only seen in his dreams flashes through his mind, the warmth of the small fire blankets his face for a few seconds before it goes out.

I hope I can find you… whoever you are.

He dreams of another memory that night.

But, for the first time, he’s not watching from the sideline. The love of his life is pressed to his side as she urges him to blow the candle and make a wish. She takes his face while hers scrunch up into a smile, wishing him ‘happy birthday’ that he doesn’t think is the first that day before leaning in to kiss him on the lips.

He catches a glimpse of the single ginkgo leaf on her right wrist, the same exact thing on his left.

Wonwoo wakes up with a jolt before he could taste her lips against his, a thunderstorm outside his window and another inside his heart.

Despite being born in the season, Wonwoo isn’t fond of summer.

It’s too hot and there’s almost nothing he can do about it. He would’ve stayed inside 24/7 if he could, but that’s out of the question because he needs to go to the office and the amount of people in the public transportation is not something he looks forward to.

He doesn’t like winter for basically the same reason: it’s too fucking cold.

Spring and autumn are nice. But Wonwoo has a pollen allergy so he can’t enjoy the blooming season even if he wants to.

So if someone asks what his favorite season is, he always says autumn.

Wonwoo isn’t sentimental enough to actually have opinions about seasons. Like he said, he doesn’t like summer and winter because they’re extremely hot and cold respectively. He doesn’t mind spring but he has pollen allergies. And so he’s left with autumn.

It’s all just practical.

But, if there’s one season that actually means something… it’d also be autumn. And it doesn’t even have much to do with the actual season. It’s the memories it carries.

Yeah, that’s what he’ll call it.

Memories.

Because no matter what–

“Get going, will you?” Someone grumbles and goes past him.

Right, another reason why he hates summer. People get (rightfully) annoyed all the time and everyone wants to hang out near the Han river, him being one of them.

What can he do? He was already outside due to prior meetings, it’s hot, and being near the body of water sounds like a good idea if there’s any. He just happens to be in the area and he supposes why not. It’s been quite some time since he’s spent some time outside by himself, anyway.

At least he’s by himself so it’ll be much easier to find a seat. –Or so he assumes as he sighs, still trying to look for an empty spot to sit down ten minutes later. He doesn’t find any, if only because the only one-person spots available are surrounded by couples making googly eyes at each other.

Eventually, he finds one a little further away and settles there with his plastic bag filled with a canned highball and a bag of chips. It’s only somewhere after two in the afternoon, a weird time to be drinking alcohol, but he sighs blissfully at the first sip and stares mindlessly at the people around him.

He likes people watching, though he doesn’t make any grand scenarios about them in his head; simply thinks about how he’s only one of many in the sea of people. That he can be special but he chooses not to be. On the contrary, he likes to pretend that he’s normal; that he has a mark somewhere hidden on his body and he just simply hasn’t met his soulmate. That his dreams are simply dreams.

Or maybe they are nothing but dreams.

Maybe he’s simply thinking too much about them.

Maybe he’s just projecting the ideal life he’d have had he not been an outlier.

He blinks.

Why… had he not considered that before?

Sure, he feels too strongly about them (and Wonwoo isn’t even an emotional person) and is way too conscious because they feel real, but what if his head really is just messing with him? What if they really are just illusions and–

“Hey, sorry, do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full and you’re the only one by yourself so…”

Wonwoo looks up at the weirdly familiar voice, freezing when he recognizes the person in front of him at once, the word coming out of his mouth before he even can stop himself.

“Autumn?”

Surprise colors your face at the name, your head empty because you honestly have no idea what to think. You don’t even have it in you to be suspecting, just very fascinated and somewhat nostalgic in the matter of seconds.

It’s been some time since someone calls you ‘Autumn’; the nickname that your late grandfather would always call you by because he said it’s his favorite season and you’re his sweetest grandchild. A few of your relatives adopted the name even though they outgrew it almost immediately after your grandfather passed. You’ve never told anyone outside the family about the nickname, not even your closest friends, as you’d like to keep it dear to your heart.

And it still stings to think about it after his passing ten years ago.

Several seconds–minutes?–pass like that, with you and this stranger looking at each other, mouth a little ajar, unsure what to say. But he breaks the silence first, shakes his head before he apologizes.

“Uh, sorry. You just–umm, uh, look like someone I know. You can sit down, sure.”

You nod and whisper a ‘thanks’, holding back the urge to ask him about his friend who apparently looks like you and shares your old nickname. But the silence that looms over you both is a little suffocating, and your usual extroverted self who never hesitates to talk to new people seems to die in front of him as you ponder if it’s okay to start a conversation with this handsome stranger.

Perhaps it’s just the weird interaction earlier, you think to yourself, the memory of your grandfather and your favorite nickname that no one except your family knows filling your chest with warmth. The last time you heard someone referred to you by that name was probably a decade ago, and to be referred to ‘Autumn’ again after so long… you wonder if you should’ve told someone about it if it inflicts this much fondness within you.

Or maybe it wouldn’t be so special if you had.

“So you have a friend who looks like me and is called ‘Autumn’, huh?” You try to maintain a confident smile, pray that you’re simply imagining the slight shake in your voice.

The stranger flinches a little, a gesture that you’re not sure what to make of, but then he nods and offers you an awkward smile. “Yeah, something like that.”

“You know, it used to be some sort of my nickname as a kid.” You’re not sure why you’re telling him this, but you are and it’s almost comical the way his lips open a little in surprise before he mutters a small ‘I see’. You offer your name to him, and thank him once again for letting you share his spot.

“Don’t mind it.” He smiles tightly before returning the gesture, and you can’t help but wonder why the name Jeon Wonwoo rings something in your head even though you’re sure you haven’t met this guy. You’re pretty good when it comes to remembering names and faces. You’ve never had any friends called Wonwoo, though you recall there were probably some people from your year in school and university who share his name.

Never a Jeon though. And he doesn’t look familiar at all, so you’re sure he’s not a friend of a friend that you might’ve seen in passing either, but… why does he feel familiar?

You shake your head before you let go of the thought, and then rummages through your bag to look for your drink. You take everything out of the way only to find your bottle lying sadly at the very bottom of your tote bag, when you look up again, you see Wonwoo glancing at the book you’ve put on the table.

On Soulmates: Love without Commitment

Xu Minghao

You hope the way you put everything back to your bag is subtle, like you’re not trying to hide the book you’ve been reading and the glimpse into your mind that people can easily decipher from your choice of literature alone. His face doesn’t tell you anything though, and it’s his next question that gets your heart beating in irregular beats.

“It’s quite the book, isn’t it?” He takes a sip from his can. “Gave me insights that I didn’t know I needed.”

“Right!” You reply with exaggerated enthusiasm. But can anyone blame you? Anyone who catches you reading that book always gives you the side eye, some people who are frontal even asked why you’re reading something that sounds as stupid as a flat earth. “I haven’t finished, but it’s so interesting to read why the author thinks soulmates aren’t it because it doesn’t give you a choice and everything about the relationship is a given. That perhaps the love that people who don’t have the soulmate marks might be purer because they choose to love and they put effort into it. I’m currently on chapter 7 and–”

You stop when you realize you’re rambling, words of apology on the top of your tongue when you see Wonwoo tilting his head in question. Not in judgement because you’re enthusiastic about it. Not in annoyance because you talk too much when it hasn’t even been twenty minutes since you’ve met him.

“Why are you stopping?” He asks, further making you speechless with the genuine interest in his voice. “Chapter 7 is about fate and destiny, isn’t it?”

You cough a little to hide your flustered face, a little too excited to finally find someone that isn’t against you reading this essay. You’ve been wanting to talk about it with someone–anyone–, all those hours you’ve spent on countless communities online with people who share the same sentiment as you not being enough.

“Yeah. I’m almost done with the chapter, though I haven’t been able to pick it up again these days.”

Wonwoo hums, seemingly deep in thought before he asks you again. “What do you think about it?”

“Fate and destiny?”

“Yeah.”

“I think it’s bullshit.”

He looks at you in surprise; whether it’s because of your choice of words or because of your opinion, you don’t know. But he doesn’t look like he’s going to jump at you for having such an opinion, so you continue even though he didn't ask you to.

“I’d hate to think that someone–something out there has enough power to decide what’s going to happen to us moving forward. That everything we do is predestined and that we have no choice whatsoever in life because it’s fated to be and it’s thanks to the universe that something happens a certain way.” And then you add, your voice comparably smaller as you suddenly realize you’re being too open with this stranger. “It feels… confining…”

He nods as he opens his bag of chips, putting it right in the middle as if telling you it’s okay to take some.

“I agree.” He doesn’t meet your eyes as he says this, looking straight over the Han river like he’ll find an actual answer there. “If it’s true, it’s very cruel for some people to know that their life is fated to be miserable and can do nothing but accept it.”

“Right? And, personally, I don’t know how I feel about the soulmates concept. You know how in the book it says that soulmates might take each other for granted because they’re meant to be together? Or that they simply accept the other person because, apparently, they’re their person? What if the universe messed up and you’re paired with a serial killer or something?”

Wonwoo looks at you alarmed, and you laugh before you say that you’re just speaking in general. He hesitates before he asks, unsure about where you actually are when it comes to soulmates. Are you this opinionated because you don’t have a soulmate? His heart skips a beat at the thought of it; or perhaps you simply hate the idea of it regardless. But before he can actually ask the question, his eyes fall to the side of your neck, and he notices the strings of flowers on the side of your neck, something that you also notice–so you clear your throat to dart his attention away.

“You feel… strongly about it, don’t you?” Wonwoo settles it at that, not wanting to offend you somehow. He doesn’t deny the mixed feeling in his heart as he realizes what it means. You have a soulmate. Even though there’s a chance that you don’t want them, you still have a soulmate and whatever feeling that’s brewing on the pit of his stomach, it’s not a good one.

What was he expecting, anyway? That if somehow he found you in this lifetime–which he did, what the fuck. It’s you who found him, even–you’d happily take him in your arms? The bitter taste on his mouth is getting worse by the seconds, only now realizing that even though he’s been wishing he’d find you, he never has any real plan about what to do if he actually did.

It helps that he doesn’t actually think he would, so he can hold on to it like a dream that would never come true. Something he holds dear in his heart but doesn’t really need to take responsibility for because it’s not going to happen. Something that somewhat keeps him going and some sort of wishful thinking.

You shrug, not offering any explanation.

He doesn’t press.

“I think.” He begins, looking at you this time, and if anyone ever asks, you’re going to deny the way your heartbeat picks up and up and up the more he looks into your eyes, your face getting hot like a high school girl with a crush. “You can always go against your destiny if that’s what you choose to do. If fate and destiny actually exist, who is there to say that what the universe has decided for you is your best path? Perhaps it’s just one of many and you can try taking another road to see if you’ll like it more. Even if they exist, it doesn’t mean you have to follow them all the time.”

You lay in bed thinking about his words that night, wondering if it’s as easy as he makes it to be to get away from your path and try a new one.

You dream of Wonwoo, a birthday cake, and a ginkgo leaf mark that you’re sure was not on Wonwoo’s wrist when you saw him earlier that day.

You wake up wishing you’ll meet him again.

Joshua, you’ve always known, is the ideal partner that anyone could ask for. He’s sweet, he takes care of you well, is respectful, and you honestly feel bad for not returning even half of what he feels for you.

You love him, you really do, but you don’t think what you feel for him is strong enough to be considered in the same league with the love that people believe soulmates should have for each other. It’s nowhere near there.

You love him, he’s very important to you, and you’ll drop anything for him if he needs you. But you know something’s wrong when Joshua starts talking about living together, marriage, and family, and dread is the only thing that fills your chest.

You know something’s wrong when you don’t feel the butterfly nor the fireworks that everyone–and you mean everyone–says they experience when they meet their soulmates.

It was nothing like that for you; you knew he’s your soulmate, and if there’s anything right about what people said regarding your first meeting, it’s true that it just clicked that it’s your soulmate in front of you. But your heartbeat picked up for all the wrong reasons that didn’t have anything to do with rush of excitement nor romantic expectation. You were a little anxious, even, but you couldn’t do anything when Joshua immediately recognized the feeling once his eyes met yours and he ran to you like he’d give you the world right that very second.

There was nothing magical about it.

You’re not sure how you feel either about the universe giving you the perfect partner by theory, but also somehow shaping you into a person that believes the whole soulmate thing is bullshit. It doesn’t seem to matter whether Joshua notices your lack of romantic reciprocation or not, because Joshua still treats you like you’re the love of his life and he looks at you like you’re his whole galaxy.

Or perhaps he mistakes the way you care for him as romance?

What a fucking drama you live in.

“What got you thinking?” You blink at his voice, and Joshua looks at you amused as he settles right beside you despite the heaps of empty space on your sofa. “You’ve been zoning out a lot these days.”

“Have I?” You ask, accepting the way his arm automatically goes behind you on top of the sofa head. You like his warmth, you really do. You like–no–you admit that you love a lot of things about Joshua and you��re glad you met him even though you absolutely abhor the soulmate system.

You love his eyes, the way they seem to stare into your soul and are able to tell what’s inside your mind most of the time.

You love his hands, they always know to wrap around yours when you need it most, pull you closer when you stray away because something distracts you along the way.

You love his voice, so calm and soothing that you would ask him to talk you to sleep through the phone on nights sleep refuses to find you, the way he’ll hum when he’s in a good mood though he never actually sings in front of you because he says he can’t carry an actual tune otherwise. (Two years since you’ve found each other and you’re still on a mission to make him sing because you just knew he sings well.)

But, most of all, you love the way he treats you.

The way he’ll ask if he’s not sure what you want him to do, the way he’ll carefully thread through your mood when the day hasn’t been good, and the way he gives you space even if he wants to be near you all the time.

He respects you. Not only as his soulmate but also as a person, and you can’t thank him enough for that.

Perhaps that’s why it hurts much more now; why guilt is eating you inside out because you can only think about Wonwoo and his words when Joshua is right next to you, his thigh pressed against yours and his thumb caressing your shoulder over your shirt.

If fate and destiny actually exist, who is there to say that what the universe has decided for you is your best path?

You force back the tears before they can actually form, gulping before you tell him it’s nothing.

“Should we go out?”

“Where?”

“Hmmm. Namsan? We can take a walk, get you off your mind.” His smile is kind, and you feel like crying again because of how considerate Joshua is. He doesn’t even ask, doesn’t push even once just in case you’ll crack. He simply accepts that you don’t want to talk about it and offers you something that might help.

Why the fuck aren’t you in love with him when he’s your soulmate and he’s as perfect as someone could be?

His arms envelop you and thrust you into his chest before you could break, and you manage to hold it for three full seconds before the tears stubbornly fall and you whimper softly into his hold. Joshua doesn't say anything, doesn’t hush you and asks if you’re okay.

No.

He accepts that you’re not okay and you don’t want to tell him about it. That you’re crying and he feel so fucking useless because he can’t do anything to help you with it.

That you’re hiding something from him that’s possibly making you cry even though you never did before.

Still, he holds you close and lets you cry.

You grasp the front of his shirt as you try your best to stop your tears. You don’t even know why you’re crying this much, but you suppose between the stressful week and the whole Wonwoo situation, the guilt combined with Joshua’s innocent look trigger something within you.

“I’ll just get you some water.” He whispers against your head once you’ve calmed down, squeezes your shoulder and then lets you go. He’s back not even a minute later, and you thank him as you take your mug, embarrassed when you wipe the remaining of your tears off your face. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” You manage to whisper, too embarrassed to even look him in the eyes.

His smile is meant to be comforting, but thinking yet again about the reason why you even cried to begin with, it only makes your heart squeezes painfully.

“You probably need it. You know I won’t judge.” He caresses your cheek as if to make sure to get rid of all traces of tears there. He searches for your face, as if he can tell what’s inside your mind just by doing so, and for a moment, you’re afraid that he really can; that he’ll see the man that you’ve met once some time last week clouding your mind like there’s no tomorrow. “Do you want to go for a walk anyway? Perhaps you need to get out of the house for a bit?”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” You reach up to circle your fingers around his wrist, smiling back at him because despite everything, you’re still thankful that the universe thinks you’re deserving of someone like him. You’re still thankful that you get to be on the receiving end of his affection.

Joshua leans forward to kiss your forehead, lingering for a good few seconds before he tells you to get ready.

It doesn’t take you too long to get ready, nor does it take long for you two to arrive at Namsan. Climbing the stairs to get to the park, Joshua asks instead if you’re willing to just go further up to get to the peak where the tower is. You’re not exactly dressed for climbing (though it’s really just stairs, stairs, and more stairs), nor are you in the mood for it, but you think exhausting your body is just what you might just need so you can pass out the moment you reach your bed later on.

He extends his hand, and you take it with a smile despite the pinch in your heart. You spend the first ten minutes in silence, hand in hand as you ascend up the seemingly never-ending stairs.

Already out of breath, you begin to doubt your decision of climbing up when Joshua speaks.

“I haven’t gone here in so long.” Undeniably, it’s a very nice weather out. You being out of breath has more to do with your lack of exercise on a daily basis more than anything, but even in your predicament you can still appreciate the night view around you. As much as you feel like dying right now, you know you don’t actually regret it.

“Yeah? Me too.” You grip his hand tighter for support, then ask if you could rest for a bit when you see a rest stop. Joshua laughs as you ask this, though he nods and hands you a piece of chocolate the moment you both sit down on an empty bench overlooking Seoul from where you’re at.

“You’re a lifesaver.” You moan as you take a bite of the chocolate, leaning your head on his shoulder and stretching your legs. “I haven’t climbed in so long. My legs will fall tomorrow, I’m sure.”

“I’ll run a bath for you before I go home tonight.”

You try to trample the way your heartbeat picks up; not because you’re fluttered, but because you’re once again eaten with guilt by how perfect Joshua really is. He doesn’t exactly know how you feel about soulmates; you’re not cruel enough to say things right to his face.

But you know for sure that he’s aware of your choice of literature.

He doesn’t comment on them, and you try not to read them when he’s around. But he once caught you reading on your phone over your shoulder and you sheepishly said you simply find those essays interesting.

Joshua isn’t stupid, knows that there’s a reason why you find them interesting, but he chooses to be in ignorant bliss and says you’re free to read whatever you want and there’s no need to justify yourself to him of all people.

Yeah, because it’s totally normal that your soulmate is interested in reading essays on why soulmates are bullshits.

Forty minutes later with some short breaks along the way, you finally reach the top. There aren’t as many people, and you walk around for a bit to let your legs relax before finding yet another bench to sit on.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been here at night.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm. Sure is different from being here during the day.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Joshua agrees, his palm absentmindedly caresses your thigh as if it helps relieve your sore muscle.

“Should we have some cup ramyeons?” You suggest, pointing to the convenience store you pass by earlier. “I think I can do some if I share with you.”

Joshua nods, but before he can offer to go, you tell him he can rest instead.

“I’ll go get it. Should I buy two or are you fine just sharing one with me?”

“Two is fine.”

“And the usual drink?”

“And the usual drink.” He grins. “You sure you can take everything by yourself?”

You roll your eyes in mock annoyance, exhaling a ‘duh’ as you tell him to just wait.

Pleased that the convenience store isn’t crowded either, you hum as you go through the snack isles instead. Knowing yourself, you’ll probably only eat two thirds of the cup ramyeon and wolf down the snack instead if you buy some; but you don’t see why not because Joshua’s there to finish your food anyway. Plus, it’s a nice night out and that’s enough to justify your choice of dinner.

Juggling two big cups of instant noodles, a packet of cheese, a hotbar, and a bag of shrimp chips isn’t your talent, but you manage and you drop them on the cashier before quickly telling the cashier you’re just going to grab a drink real quick.

Almost bumping into the person behind you, your apology is stuck in your throat once you realize who’s the person exactly.

What the fuck.

“Oh…” Wonwoo says in surprise, the words seemingly out of his mouth before he even realizes. “Hi…?”

You give him an awkward smile and nod before quickly going to the drink aisle. Apologizing once again to the cashier who’s still scanning your purchase (and to Wonwoo) once you return even though it’s barely been five seconds.

“Need help?” Wonwoo says good-naturedly, gesturing to the amount of things you’ve just bought.

“Hey, I–”

Wonwoo looks at you staring between him and the guy who has just entered. Getting the hints immediately that his help isn’t needed, he smiles before paying for his stuff and leaves the convenience store.

He looks spitefully at the night sky, it’s so unnecessarily pretty too, unsure if he wants to curse whatever’s up there that of all days he decides to go outside, he just has to see you again. With another guy at that. He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions. The guy could simply be your friend for all he knew.

But if there’s one thing that is Wonwoo, he’s quick to put pieces together. From your panicked glance and the way you tense when you see him, he knows. Perhaps it’s also just intuition. But he just knew that man, whoever he is, is the one that heaven has decided to be the one for you.

He exhales a deep breath before finding a secluded place somewhere behind a tree, carefully hidden to minimize any chance of being seen by you (or seeing you with your soulmate). He would’ve immediately left if he could, but he’s only arrived and it feels like it’s such a waste for him to leave just like that despite the situation.

What even is the situation?

He’s been thinking a lot since he met you, if he wants to seek you out again and what he wants to do if he does. The thought is no longer so much of a wishful thinking like it used to be. He knows you exist now. You’re actually living, you’re real, and you have a soulmate that is not him.

It sounds so much like an exaggeration, but he’s never felt so empty after going home that night, thinking about you and your soulmate. Do you live together? Do you care about him regardless of your stance on the whole soulmate thing? Does he treat you well? Does he get to hold you while you sleep? Does he–Fuck.

Wonwoo hates being like this, and he’d love to say it’s gotten better the more time passes by, but it has only gotten even worse because his dream is getting longer and even more prominent since meeting you. And what he hates most is he’s started to feel more and more strongly about you even through his dreams.

What is one supposed to do when they fall in love with an illusion that has a counterpart living in the realm of reality? He’s pretty sure no one would have the answer.

He glances up at the sound of faint laughter, seemingly so loud in the silent night, or perhaps he simply picks it up because he knows exactly who it belongs to before he even sees you. He bites his lip at the scene he’s witnessing: you, laughing with your soulmate at god knows what.

He can’t blame the guy for looking at you like you hold the universe for him. After all, Wonwoo would probably do exactly the same thing had he been given the chance. His past self from another life could vouch for that.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, he’s not sure, you end up sitting a good distance away from where he’s at, your back facing him as you settle beside the man destined to be with you. You’re not too far that he can’t see your side profile, which gets his heart both squeezing in pain and fluttering at the same time.

He doesn’t even know that was possible.

Wonwoo looks far to the distance, at the endless night sky that’s so unnecessarily full of stars today of all day. He wants to think the universe is mocking him, playing a joke on him for being alone by himself on such a beautiful night, making him watch you laughing with your soulmate as the cherry on top.

But he knows he’s not that special.

He’s just one of many; his misery wouldn’t be all that amusing for the universe.

Scoffing at the thought of the universe, he lowers his eyes from the sky only to accidentally meet yours.

Is this the work of the universe too?

Nah, he shouldn’t give too much credit to the damn thing. But, then again, blaming it for every single thing that went wrong in his life has proved to be some kind of comfort if he’s being completely honest.

You offer him a small smile anyway, not even waiting for him to return the gesture.

It hurts still to see you with your soulmate, sharing food and talking about what he assumes to be nothing and everything. But as he lays in bed that night and thinks about your smile, he admits that if the universe lets him meet you in this lifetime, perhaps it isn’t so bad, after all.

Wonwoo has always liked the number three.

Third’s time the charm and all that jazz. He doesn’t hold on to it religiously, just some fun little routine that he finds amusing. When he takes an item in a grocery store, he takes the third one from the front; when he goes to the convenience store because he needs one (1) thing, he takes two small snacks so it’s three items in total; on the rare days when Wonwoo feels like trying a new drink in a cafe, he’d just choose the third item in the menu.

It’s fun.

Today, Wonwoo’s supposed to meet Mingyu for a little get together. He’s the first friend he’s made in Seoul, a guy that’s a little too flashy for his liking but is still a good person nevertheless and definitely a much better company than most people that he’s made to be acquainted with in the new city.

He’s not too excited about the invitation, but doesn’t see why he should turn the younger guy down when he has no plan during the weekend, and, as much as he loves staying inside, the four walls of his apartment is starting to feel a little suffocating because it’s almost been a month since that night he randomly went to Namsan and saw you, and… he hasn’t gone out for anything that’s not a necessity since then.

So when Mingyu asks for the third time since they got to know each other if he wants to join him on a night out or not, he decides he should also appreciate the guy’s persistence despite already being turned down twice before.

Anyway.

He was supposed to meet him for a little get together. Apparently, Mingyu’s version of ‘a little get together’ is to invite a group of friends that Wonwoo obviously doesn’t know for dinner and only notifying him of the additional party thirty minutes before their promised time.

He exhales. It’s too late for him to bail. Right now, his hope is only as high as the ground: he simply wishes he wouldn’t return home socially exhausted.

It’s a small pizza diner inside an alleyway where they promised to meet. And Mingyu along with his friends thankfully arrive at the same time as him so Wonwoo wouldn’t need to go inside and look around like a fool, wondering where his table full of strangers and a slightly familiar friend is.

He’s not close enough with Mingyu to say he’s comfortable around him, but he’s still the most familiar face between the four faces in front of him so he decides sitting next to Mingyu is the best choice. Thankfully, the younger guy doesn’t seem to be the type to push him to interact with new people immediately.

Thirty minutes into dinner, Wonwoo can tell Mingyu probably brings these friends around because he thinks Wonwoo needs to meet new people (or maybe he thinks it’ll be awkward if it’s just the two of them?). It’s easy to tell that he’s brought the friendliest people who’s just loud enough, who understand that Wonwoo’s quiet but still able to naturally included him in conversations without making him feel bad about being, well, quiet (god knows how many people have tried to make him feel bad for staying quiet during conversations).

Jungkook is a friend from high school, he’s learned, apparently one of Mingyu’s closest friends. Jeonghan is a senior from his previous company; someone that he didn’t know he’d end up being close with because, at first, Jeonghan was obviously just someone he had to work together with. Jisoo, he finds out later on, is Jungkook’s ex-girlfriend before he found his soulmate, though they treasure their friendship too much to cut each other off.

Except for Jungkook, the other two friends seem a little unconventional and Wonwoo doesn’t understand how Mingyu ends up being close enough with them to go out together like this.

He doesn’t ask.

“We’re planning on bar hopping.” Mingyu tells him, and Wonwoo feels dread fill his chest at what this might imply until Mingyu adds, “You’re free to leave if you don’t want to go with us though! I understand it might not be everyone’s thing.”

Weirdly, Wonwoo now wants to go because he’s been given the freedom of choice. Plus, at least he knows he’d be surrounded by these people and he can go home at any time if he wants to.

“What kind of bar?”

“Definitely not clubs pretending to be a bar.” Mingyu jokes. “Maybe wine or cocktail bars?”

“Sure, I’ll come then.” Wonwoo shrugs, then tells Mingyu he’ll probably return home first if he and his friends are planning to go until morning, to which Mingyu nods and says that it’s no problem at all.

Wonwoo doesn’t really understand the concept of bar hopping. He’s always been curious about it, but never curious enough to actually do it. So he supposes it’s also his curiosity that pushes him to say yes. He kind of wants to see what it’s all about and he doesn’t think he’d have another opportunity where he might remotely enjoy the experience if not now.

The first cocktail bar isn’t that great, if only because the place is small and it feels like everyone can hear what they’re talking about. They each have one drink and immediately leave for the next one. They go to a wine bar, and Wonwoo is pleased to know the alcohol in his system (and the current company, he’s sure) has made him more relaxed than he had been the past week.

After an hour or so, Mingyu decides he’s had too much energy and asks if it’s okay to move to an open bar that’s not as noisy as a club but is still noisy enough for people to enjoy the music and fill the dancing floor.

Normally, Wonwoo would say no. But he surprisingly still has enough social battery and thinks might as well go all out while he’s at it. It’s not often that he’s in a social mood.

The bar is a little too noisy for Wonwoo’s liking, though the half part of the building has no roof so it’s not too loud nor suffocating. After ordering their drinks, Mingyu and Jungkook head to the dance floor. Jisoo and Jeonghan stay at the table with him; Jisoo says she’s not really in the mood to dance while Jeonghan says his soulmate is picking him up in a bit so he’s just going to stick around til then.

It’s thirty minutes later that he leaves and Wonwoo’s now left alone with Jisoo. It’s not uncomfortable, but it is a little awkward and Jisoo seems to share the sentiment as she tries to find topics to talk about.

They end up talking about literature and movies, and Wonwoo has to lean forward to be able to listen to her clearly over the music until she eventually moves to sit next to him so they can talk easier. He notices Jungkook glancing every now and then, and when Jisoo follows his gaze, she chuckles a little and shakes her head.

“Sorry. It’s just a habit of his, don’t mind him.”

Wonwoo blinks, unsure. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I know a lot of people find his stares uncomfortable.” She shrugs. “He’s just protective of me. It’s nothing, I promise.”

Wonwoo’s not nosy. But between the alcohol in his system, his remote curiosity, and the way Jisoo looks like she wants to talk about it, he kindly throws the bait.

A subtle one, though.

“How did you end up being close with Mingyu?”

“Through Kook, at first.” Mingyu and Jeonghan don’t refer to Jungkook with that name, he notes. And a part of him wonders if it’s a nickname that Jisoo has for him or if it’s just how his girl friends call him. “We dated before. But we broke up because, well, he found his soulmate and… Mingyu was kind enough to keep me company and made sure I was okay after the whole ordeal. I’m not sure why he felt the need to do that, but I’m thankful regardless. So… yeah.”

He bites the question about soulmates. Doesn’t ask why they tried dating each other if they knew they aren’t soulmates, but he does wonder about how she must’ve felt or how she’s feeling right now. He can’t exactly compare his situation with hers, because as much as he’s going through a… heartbreak, it’s somewhat onesided while Jisoo actually had a relationship with Jungkook.

And she still has to be friends with him.

He doesn’t know if it’s the universe or Jungkook that is cruel.

Or perhaps Jisoo is a masochist.

Apparently, she’s also very honest when she’s tipsy.

“I’m an outlier.” She smiles bitterly after downing a shot, then she pulls up the sleeve of her cardigan and shows him what he assumes to be a trace of a soulmate mark; a faint outline of a snowflake that’s barely visible unless you actually take a look at her wrist. “I hav–had a soulmate. They died before I even met them and that’s why the mark… burned.”

Her chuckle is nowhere near amused when Wonwoo’s eyes widen in surprise, and she answers before he even asks as she pulls down the sleeve of her cardigan.

“It literally burned. I was sixteen; and I was out with Jungkook getting ice cream when it started to burn and he had to witness me being all hysterical, crying as I told him my wrist burnt and it felt like it’s going to fall off.” She doesn’t look bitter at all as she talks about this, just very sad and perhaps even a tad bit nostalgic. “He was fourteen. A little shorter than I was at that point, but he tried his best to tug me to a secluded place so people wouldn’t stare despite my struggle because everything hurt and I just felt like crying, hugged me to muffle my scream, and stayed with me for hours after that even though I was just zoning out, not saying anything.”

Wonwoo isn’t sure if it’s a story for him to hear; but Jisoo looks like she needs it (or is it just the alcohol?) and the least he could do is to listen. At least he can rest easy knowing this story wouldn’t be going anywhere else.

“I knew what happened even though I didn’t know by theory. I could feel it; felt the connection that was only faintly there just… gone. Jungkook took me home and told my parents about what happened. Of course they knew what it meant and they thanked him before sending him home. I couldn’t really talk for weeks, the emptiness and the burn were too prominent for me to be doing anything. My parents told the school I was sick so I was dismissed from classes.”

She pauses, and for the first time, Wonwoo can tell exactly what she’s feeling: she’s numb and she’s exhausted. There’s no trace of tears in her eyes. They’re void of anything and Wonwoo suddenly feels an odd sense of affinity the more he listens to her.

“Jungkook… stopped by everyday even though he didn’t know what actually happened. He probably had an idea, but he didn’t press and he talked to me about anything and everything even if I didn’t say anything–said from the beginning that I didn’t need to answer, that he’d do all the talking for me.”

Wonwoo doesn’t need to listen to the rest of the story to know why Jisoo still treasures Jungkook as…, well, whatever she regards him as right now. He doesn’t want her to talk about more sad things like how she ended up dating him and how she broke up with him, so he offers her what he could: honesty and a change of topic.

Even if it’s only a little.

“I’m an outlier also.” He says quietly that Jisoo almost misses it. “Doesn’t have a soulmate but… it’s complicated.”

Thankfully, Jisoo doesn’t pry, simply takes another shot and offers a cheer to him.

“Sucks to be us.”

It’s weird, but Wonwoo finds himself chuckling before he takes his own drink and clinks his glass to hers and takes a sip of his highball.

“Sucks to be us.”

His mind wanders to you, thinking if he could stand being in Jisoo’s place had it been like that for him. He had only seen you with your soulmate from afar, had only talked to you once, and it hurts anyway.

Why is he cursed with the memories of his previous life, again?

He’s been mentally restless since that night. How could he not when he keeps on seeing you everywhere? His dreams are getting more and more prominent and so are his feelings. He keeps on thinking he sees you somewhere–everywhere–only to realize it’s not you, just ghosts of you haunting him in every person that he sees.

How fucking stupid, falling in love with a series of images and illusions.

Drinking the rest of his drink, he shakes his head and winces at the alcohol and at how his mind is playing tricks once again. Perhaps drinking alcohol hasn’t been the best option if he ends up imagining you even here between the blurry images of people.

Fuck, he’s down bad.

In such perfect timing, Mingyu and Jungkook return to the table, so Wonwoo leaves Jisoo with them and excuses himself to the restroom. He looks at himself in the mirror, and then looks at his phone only to realize it’s already almost one in the morning. Perhaps it’s time he goes home; the talk he’s shared with Jisoo proves to be more mentally exhausting than he thinks it is.

He almost bumps into someone on his way out, hands reaching out to the person in front of him in reflex only to let go just as quick once he sees your face once again. Christ, is he that drunk? He really needs to go home.

That version of you is very pretty too, fuck.

“Uh… Wonwoo?” He’s even imagining your voice now? “Are you… okay?”

He looks up in alarm once he realizes you’re real. It’s actually you in front of him and you’re not a figment of his imagination. He opens his mouth to say something, but someone bumps into you hard and you tumble into his chest.

Wonwoo’s breath is caught in his throat at the turn of events, but his arm catches you anyway and glares at the guy before he looks down and asks if you’re okay. You look as flustered as he’s feeling, and he hopes the loud music is enough to cover the sound of his heartbeat.

“You’re okay?” It’s stupid how disappointment fills his chest the moment you step away, a sense of longing already making its way to his heart.

He needs to get away.

“I—yeah.” You look unsure and Wonwoo doesn’t like how your body screams uneasiness.

“Are you by yourself?”

“No?” Now you sound unsure, and even though Wonwoo is also another stranger in the sea of strangers, he thinks he trusts himself better than any other people here to help you if you don’t want to be here. “Well, I was with my friend but she… yeah.”

You’re biting your lip, as if afraid he’d scold you (Why would he? He’s not your boyfriend (Wait. No. Back pedal, back pedal)). Fuck, fuck, fuck. He swallows hard to calm himself down; this is not the time to imagine what it’d be like to be your boyfriend.

“Come on.” He says as calmly as possible, his fingers balled into a fist to stop himself from taking your hand in his. He considers bringing you to his table, but he doesn’t know how he should introduce you to his party so he quickly texts Mingyu he’s going home because something turns up before he leads you out of the club.

It’s silence filling you two despite the somewhat noisy alley you’re walking through, and you don’t know Wonwoo enough to be able to tell if he’s pissed or what; but he does seem tense and you’re the one uncomfortable with the unnerving silence.

“I’m–I’m sorry.” You try to open a conversation. Wonwoo stops in his tracks and turns to you in confusion. “You were probably there to have fun or something… Sorry I made you get me out of there.”

He shakes his head, and your heart relaxes when he smiles a little. “It’s fine. About time I go back anyway. Do you mind if we stop by a convenience store for a bit?”

It’s then that you realize you’ve been blindly following him. You don’t even know the guy. You’ve met him twice before, and your second meeting barely even lasts five minutes, yet you readily follow him because you know you’ll be more comfortable with him than there–more safe, more… secure.

Fuck, you didn’t even ask him where he’s taking you earlier. It was almost automatic the way you followed his steps. You try to convince yourself that it’s his familiarity that makes you feel safe. Because even if you don’t know him that well, his face is still one imprinted in your head so it’s normal that you’d feel safer than you would with any other person in that club.

Plus, you’ve talked to him once before and he at least passed the vibe check, right?

But as you pile these thoughts in your head, trying to justify the uncalled feeling of security this stranger brings you, deep down you know why exactly your anxiety seeps away at the sight of him earlier, why your shoulders drop down in relief, and why your chest is no longer filled with dread.

“Here, have this.”

That’s why. You think to yourself.

Wonwoo isn’t smiling at you, but there’s a kind of warmth that he radiates as he hands you a drink and ushers you to sit on the table in front of the convenience store. There’s a certain warmth that reaches you as he sits in front of you and places a hot bun on the table, pushes it towards you without saying anything.

You watch him slot his hands into the pocket of his jackets, and you suddenly wonder if he gets cold easily. It’s not that cold outside, though you suppose it is one in the morning and the wind picks up a little at times like this.

“Thanks.” You mumble as you wrap your fingers around the small bottle of warm honey water. You can’t help but smile at the drink of his choice, a little funny how he didn’t get you a hot chocolate or tea; something most people would usually get. “Can I ask why honey?”

He blinks, as if not getting what you’re talking about until you hold up the glass bottle for him to see.

Wonwoo panics a little. He has bought the drink without thinking, a part of his mind that stores the information about you from his dream making him do so. In fact, it was only yesterday that he dreamt of you drinking one.

The dream is still vivid in his mind. He dreamt of you sleeping, and he assumed he was trying to sleep himself when you jolted awake out of nowhere, eyes frantic and hands flailing around looking for him. He saw himself whispering words of comfort to you, and he saw you burying yourself into him like there’s any space between the two of you before he pulled away and said he’d get you some drink from the kitchen.

You had smiled weakly at the sight of your favorite drink, a warm honey water that always comforted you at nights like this.

“Do you not like it? I can get you something else if you want?”

“No, it’s fine.” You smile, something inside you blooming dangerously at his words and what you may or may not be implying with yours. “Just… I usually drink those too. Some of my friends judge me for that.”

He’s more surprised about the fact that you share this with your past self more than anything, but, still, he asks. “Huh? Why?”

“Just because it’s unusual, I suppose.” Shrugging, you proceed to open the lid and take a sip. “Not a lot of people drink this, you know? Or, at least, they drink it cold. I prefer it warm.”

He wonders if you share anything else with your past self. So far, there’s been two: Autumn and this drink. Would you be suspicious if he threw it out there? Would you freak out?

“Someone I know eats watermelon only if it’s frozen; I’m sure it's just a preference on your part.”

You smile shyly as you answer him, an image that’s forever burned into his mind. “I do that also.”

His mind runs a thousand hundred scenarios of what this could mean, wonders if it’s simply a coincidence or if the universe is on to something.

“Aren’t you special,” he smiles tightly, hoping that you don’t catch upon his awkwardness.

“Thank you for putting it that way.” The sound of your laughter makes him want to be selfish; to drag out conversations and spend as much time as possible with you even though he knows you have a soulmate. Is it considered cheating like this? Is he immoral for wanting this? “My friends also judge me because I don’t like cheese cake, cheese sauce and anything cheese flavored even though I don’t mind an actual cheese.”

“You… don’t like cheese cake?” Wonwoo blinked, unsure if he heard right. He wasn’t a cheese lover or anything, but he didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone who grimaced at the word ‘cheese cake’.

“They’re too… cheesy.”

“Autumn, it’s called cheese cake for a reason.”

“And the texture… yuck.” You grimaced before telling him to stop talking about it before you lose your appetite.

“Are you judging me too?” Your voice snaps him out of his gaze, and he blinks a few times before he shakes his head no. This can’t be good, fuck. It’s been less than 10 minutes since he’s been talking to you, and yet his heartbeat is out of control and the fact that you share a lot of things with the illusion of yourself that he’s developed an attachment for isn’t good at all.

He tries his best to remind himself that his feeling isn’t real; that perhaps he’s too blinded by something that he’s been holding on to and he doesn’t know what to do now that it’s somewhat changing. That he’s confused and he shouldn’t do anything that would cause him further confusion.

But with you in front of him, as real as you can be, smiling and launching into a bunch of topics that is actually dear to his heart, he can’t help but indulge his feelings and bask in your presence, in your smile and your voice, in the sound of your laughter and the way you lean forward so you can speak to him better, a habit that he notices the you in his dream also had.

So he lets go.

Whatever consequence that awaits him, he’ll face it when it comes. Right now, he just wants to pretend like you don’t have a soulmate who’s probably waiting for you back home–who may be worried sick because you haven’t looked at your phone even once since the moment he sits down in front of you.

Wonwoo isn’t usually selfish and he hopes that the universe will let him go this one time for wanting to be–for wanting to keep you to himself even for a limited time. Even if you aren’t aware of it.

This chance might not come again, he tells himself. The chance of talking to you under the stars in front of a random convenience store at ungodly hours, like you’re just two people talking to each other–like soulmates isn’t a thing and he’s free to feel whatever it is he’s feeling.

He wants this, he realizes as his eyes flicker down to your lips for a few seconds, subtle enough for you to miss. He wants a real memory of you. Something real that he can keep to his heart, something that isn’t a part of his dream and a fragment of his memories. And even though he’d go home feeling empty and he’d curse himself tomorrow, it doesn’t matter because what matters now is that you’re here with him and he’s going to take as much as you’re willing to give him.

“I’ve finished reading the book, by the way.” You open another topic. A controversial one, if you may say so yourself, and you know deep down what you’re trying to do by saying this even though you’ll deny it if anyone asks.

“Oh yeah? How do you find it?”

“I think I agree with most of what he said.” You bite your lip, your mind wandering to Joshua for the first time since you saw Wonwoo. “I just… I don’t know. I’m not anti soulmate, I just don’t see why you should succumb to your… instincts? Feelings? And simply accept your soulmate without thinking too much about it.”

Wonwoo doesn’t say anything for a moment and you wonder if he disagrees with you or if he’s simply gathering his thoughts. He seems thoughtful, perhaps trying to find words that won’t offend you before he offers you his opinion.

“Can I ask why you started thinking that way?” he asks instead, and it’s your turn to be silent and arrange your words.

Because you don’t know.

You can’t tell since when do you feel this strongly about the soulmate situation. You used to be quite indifferent about it, not having any opinion whatsoever though you sure weren’t as excited as the other kids your age when it came to romanticizing anything about soulmates.

Your friends would talk about their dream scenarios of the first meeting with their soulmates, or they would go on and on about looking forward to meeting them.

But you were never that excited.

It was just another thing in your life: like eating ice cream or trying out a new cafe. There’s nothing so special about it.

“I think…” You contemplate, wondering if you want to be that honest with this beautiful, familiar stranger in front of you. “It was when I met my soulmate?”

Wonwoo seems surprised, probably not sure how to interpret your words and you don’t blame him at all.

“Sorry?”

“You know how people say that there are… fireworks? And butterflies? Just those big, grandiose feelings blooming inside your chest at once when you meet your soulmate?” He nods, trying to see where you’re going with this. “Well, I… didn’t feel those when I met mine. Sure, it all made sense and it just kinda… clicked in my head. Like a moment of eureka, if you will. But I wasn’t… excited or anything of the sort. If anything, my heartbeat picked up because I was anxious, already worried about what he might expect of me and all that.”

You refuse to look at Wonwoo. You’re not sure what kind of answer that you expect from him, but he doesn’t seem like he’d judge and, between the ungodly hour and the little alcohol that’s left in your system, it feels relieving to finally be able to say this out loud.

You’ve never been able to. Not only because people would call you crazy, but because you know no one wouldn’t not judge you for it.

But here in front of Wonwoo… Jeon Wonwoo who you’ve only met for the third time in your life, you feel safe for reasons that you can’t comprehend.

So you continue. You’ll blame it on the alcohol tomorrow morning, even though you know you’re not intoxicated enough for it to be the case. You’ll justify yourself by saying Wonwoo isn’t a friend and he knows no one in your life–that if this goes south, you technically wouldn’t lose anything.

Yeah.

That’s how you’ll go down this road.

“I mean… I love him, you know?” You would’ve seen Wonwoo’s face drop had you not been busy staring at your nails, still too afraid to look at him despite the resolve you’ve made. “But not… that way.”

“Like… platonic?” Wonwoo offers, careful.

“Yeah…” You bite your lip, trying to stop the tears that suddenly blur your eyes. “Like platonic.”

You hate yourself for the way your heart lightens at your own words. Because even though it’s something that you’ve thought of once before, you bury it so deep somewhere you can’t reach. You never say it out loud to anyone; never admit it to yourself even though you know it’s true.

And to say it like this to another person–out in the open… You hate yourself so fucking much because it’s true and you’re somehow going to hurt Joshua even if you don’t mean to.

Wonwoo panics at the sight of your tears, at the way your lips tremble and the way he’s sure your nails are digging into your palms. He doesn’t know what to do, unsure about what he can do because you’re…, he winces as he thinks to himself, not even a friend.

What is the appropriate distance he needs to keep? Is he even allowed to comfort you? He can’t even be relieved at your revelation because you’re obviously not fine and there’s something churning at the pit of his guts the longer he sees you try to stop yourself from crying.

It’s when a sob eventually escapes your lips that he stops thinking. Because how can he stand still when you’re there crying like you’re admitting a crime worthy of a death sentence? When you can’t even lift your head because you’re trying so damn hard to hide your face and your tears?

He hears you gasp when he wraps his arms around you, something that he wishes you’re okay with, and if there’s anything Wonwoo would describe as magical, it’s the way you perfectly fit against him as you press yourself closer for comfort, your forehead on his neck and your tears warm against his skin. He’s sure he’s just making things up, but it feels like there’s a soft wind going through his whole body, leaving trails of goosebumps on his arms.

It’s probably not the most appropriate moment for him to be feeling that way, but he doesn’t have time to be guilty because it seems like you somewhat share the sentiment–pulling away like you’re electrocuted before you look at him wide-eyed and gaping.

“Won–”

“I’m an outlier.” He cuts you off, riding the rush he’s feeling across his body and letting his honest words get out before he can think too much. He doesn’t know why but he feels like he should tell you and he should do it right now. “I don’t have a soulmate and–”

“Kiss me?” There’s urgency and a slight tremble in your voice as you ask this, fingers grasping the material of his shirt tightly like it’s your lifeline.

“But your soul–”

“Wonwoo, please?”

It’s hard to tell who moves first, or perhaps you two move at the same time, but the moment his lips meet yours, Wonwoo would like to retract his statement earlier about your embrace being magical because it’s nothing compared to this.

It’s absolutely nothing compared to the thousand fireworks exploding in his chest at different intervals–never stopping and electrifying in the most pleasant way possible. He doesn’t know it’s possible for humans to feel this way. Is this what people with a soulmate feels like when they meet their soulmate? Isn’t this what you said earlier: fireworks and butterflies?

It’s not even butterflies in his stomach. He’s pretty sure there’s an earthquake down there. But, the most important of them all, it feels right and it makes sense even though it shouldn’t be.

The longer his lips move against yours, your fingers grasping the front of his shirt to pull him closer while his fingers thread through your hair to pull you closer, the more it feels like… fuck, he hates to say it but, it feels like it’s meant to be.

It’s only because you both need to take a breath that you pull away, and Wonwoo doesn’t think it’s possible for his heart to run even faster than it already is, but it is because, Christ, the way you look like you’re in a trance and your slightly swollen lips are doing things to his heart that he has never experienced before.

It’s a mystery how long you spend looking at each other like that in silence, wrapped against each other without saying anything. He wants so badly to just kiss you senseless once again, but the gears in his head are starting to turn and he knows the right thing to do is to talk.

You have a soulmate. But you asked him to kiss you and he did. And it was magical and all the good things he’s heard before, but it’s not supposed to be… right?

“What was that?” You whisper, more to yourself than to him. “I… I don’t understand?”

He whispers your name softly, trying to pull away only for you to pull him closer again, your eyes full of distress and your body tense, a complete 180 from how you were just seconds ago.

“W—why?” You look at him like he has an answer. But he doesn’t, because he’s not even sure what you’re asking about and he’s still trying to find words to say. “This… this is what they say about–about fireworks and… and butterflies but… you’re not my soulmate? What does this mean?”

Wonwoo tries once again, this time reaching out to caress your hair to calm you down. It helps, because your shoulders visibly relax and he reminds you to breathe. You refuse to let go of him though, and his heart squeezes painfully at how shaken up you seem to be.

“Hey, I’m–I’m not going anywhere, okay?” He tells you softly, trying to appear calm even despite what he’s feeling inside. But he can’t show it. Not when you look so lost and your feelings are presumably all over the place. “I’ll just… get some stuff inside. I’ll be back in a minute, I promise.”

True to his words, Wonwoo comes back not even a minute late with a pack of tissues and two water bottles. He opts to sit right beside you as he hands you the tissue and opens the water for you.

“Here, drink this.”

“Thanks.” You murmur quietly, embarrassed now that you’ve (somewhat) come to your senses. There’s a thousand questions running through your head, some of them hateful, loathing yourself for asking another guy to kiss you when you have a soulmate who’s probably worried sick at home because you haven’t texted him at all since you left the club.

But you have more pressing matters at hand–like why did Wonwoo actually kiss you, and why did it feel like how people around you have been describing what it feels like to be with your soulmate? And… Did he say he’s an outlier?

“Feeling better?” His voice is meek, like he’s not sure if it’s okay to talk to you. But you’re too all over the place to think about politeness and whatnot. It’s a trainwreck inside your head. Your head isn’t dizzy because you’re overthinking; it’s dizzy because you’re thinking of too many things at once–it’s thought after thought after thought after thought. They’re colliding and everything’s a mess.

“You felt that too right?” is the first thing that you manage to say and it’s only after you say it that you realize how horrifying it would be if Wonwoo says no.

He nods, albeit hesitantly, but you don’t really mind because you’ll take anything right now. “It’s… what was that? Why… Why do I feel it with you but not Joshua?”

Joshua is your soulmate, Wonwoo registers in his mind, and he looks at you helplessly, his heart dropping a little at the mention of his name. Should he tell you? About the dreams and the memories? He thinks the dreams and the memories are simply, well, dreams and memories after he met you and Joshua all those nights ago.

Perhaps he really is just an outlier, a special one at that, but that’s about it. He has trampled any hope of making something out of his dreams when it’s clear that you belong to someone else in this lifetime. The universe that gifts him the memory of his past life with you, one that arranges another meeting in this lifetime with you, is the same fucking universe that decides you have a soulmate and it’s not him.

What the fuck was he supposed to do?

But with how he–and you, apparently–feel earlier, he doesn’t think it’s a meaningless coincidence.

He might’ve considered it as one if it was only him feeling it. That he might’ve been desperate and any contact that he was to have with you would simply be magical because it’s nothing but an illusion on his part.

But you?

You’ve just said you feel it too, whatever it might be. And he feels a glimpse of hope even though the whole situation is completely fucked up and there’s no way to get around it without hurting anyone.

How would you feel if you knew?

Would you freak out?

Would you hate him for hiding it?

Would you think he was planning something against you?

Would you laugh at his face and call him crazy?

“You know something.” Your voice brings him back to reality, your eyes searching his face. You don’t sound accusing, you sound downright confused and, dare he says, a tad bit hopeful. “There’s something you’re not telling me… right?”

Wonwoo takes a deep breath and braces himself for whatever he might need to face afterwards. He owes you that much, he thinks to himself. To a certain extent, his memory is your memory, and if you’re as distraught as you seem to be, he hopes this would help you somehow.

“I remember my past life.” He says as calmly as he can, carefully hiding his fear somewhere behind. “They come to my dreams. I thought it was just dreams at first, but they’re… memories and they’ve been getting longer since I met you. Clearer, too.”

It’s hard to say why you’re not freaked out, why you simply believe him like it’s not the craziest thing you’ve heard in your life. But if the universe can decide two people are destined for each other and grant marks to people to seek their other half, why should this be regarded as impossible?

“Did you… know me in your past life?”

Wonwoo smiles bitterly, and it takes everything in you not to reach out to cup his cheek–tell him that he can be honest and you’re going to listen to him no matter what.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“As honest as you can be.”

“I might sound crazy.” He whispers, basking in your touch. “This… might affect you in a bad way.”

“Crazier than you remembering your past life?” You smile a little as you say this, which he returns. He appreciates your attempt to lighten up the atmosphere, and he reaches up to take the hand that was cupping his cheek, his fingers tighten around yours before he braces himself once again.

“You were my soulmate.” He rips the bandaid in one go, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to say it otherwise.

It’s hard to describe what you’re feeling: your breath is caught in your throat, the revelation means more than you thought it would. But it’s not shock that’s filling you up. No. It’s recognition, acceptance, and tears because things finally make sense.

“I promised you that I’d find you again in our next life and–”

It finally fucking makes sense why you always feel like there’s something missing in your life, why Joshua’s arrival doesn’t fill it up even though you secretly thought it would; why you feel that pull with Wonwoo since that first time you met him.

You remember that day still. You were just taking a walk, there was no plan whatsoever to sit around and spend time out in the open when it’s so hot outside. But you had seen him by himself, and it felt like time stopped for a few moments and you were enchanted. You felt compelled to look at him–to approach him and ask if it’s okay to take the empty seat on his table.

It wasn’t magical, your first meeting, but something about Wonwoo had pulled you in and you didn’t even try to question it.

The shock you felt when he called you ‘Autumn’ never really died down. And while you tried to convince yourself that it’s simply because it had been a long time since someone referred to you with that name and it was a nickname that is so dear to you, you could feel deep down that there was something else.

And then there was that dream.

Wait.

Right, that dream.

Is that dream…?

“Ginkgo leaf?” You whisper out of nowhere, trying to recall what you saw all those nights ago. “Was that your mark? In your previous life… was that your mark?”

It’s his turn to look at you in shock, the way he’s gaping at you wide-eyed giving you the answer you were looking for.

“H–how?”

“I had a dream, once.” You’ve never felt this vulnerable in your life, but how can you not be when it feels like you’ve just found the reason you’ve been seeking for your whole life? “It was… that night we met… at Namsan. It was your birthday and we were celebrating with a cake and–”

“Hey, breathe?” Wonwoo cuts you off, and you squeeze his fingers in return, only then realizing that you’ve been holding hands the whole time. “Take your time, okay?”

“And I saw the ginkgo leaf on your wrist…” You finish, trying your best not to glance at his wrist even though you know it’s not there. “I didn’t get to see mine though, and that’s why I didn’t assume you were my soulmate.”

“I see…”

You hate how defeated he sounds. And for all the time you’ve been doubting the universe, questioning its means and cursing its ways, you don’t know what to do right now.

Should you be cursing it some more for putting Wonwoo in that position? For making you feel the way you feel only to find out the reason why is because your heart is apparently caught in the past? What does this make Joshua? What does this make your entire relationship with him?

You ask about his dreams, and even though Wonwoo is hesitant at first, he gets more comfortable the more he relays them. And you feel like crying because, apparently, all of them are about you. There’s not one single dream that doesn’t have you in it, and it feels like a punch to your guts to know that he has to live his life with this replaying in his mind, that he can’t even talk about it to anyone because he doesn’t want to risk it, that he’s been keeping something this big for his whole life because he doesn’t really have any other choice.

You grief about the memories you don’t have. About what could’ve been and about the pain Wonwoo has to go through by himself because the universe has arranged you to be with someone else when he’s been seeing pictures of you with him in his dreams.

“What… what do you think we should do?” You throw the question out there, hope that someone has the answer. But Wonwoo stays silent, and he looks at you with eyes full of yearning that wrenches your soul. You know what he’s trying to say. You’re the one who has a soulmate. Whatever that he might want with you, what he might’ve imagined throughout the entire time he has those memories, they all don’t mean anything because you’re off limits.

“I don’t… think there’s anything that we can do.”

“But–”

“It’s okay.” He shakes his head with a sad smile. “I didn’t… I wasn’t expecting anything. I didn’t even think I’d be talking about this with you.”

“But, still!” You’re grasping his hand tightly–as if he’ll be gone if you let go even slightly. “This… this has got to mean something!”

“You have a soulmate.” He reminds you, his voice shaking. And tears blur your eyes once again at how resigned he sounds, but can you blame him? The universe has fucked him up in more ways than one, you would’ve lost it a long time ago if you were him, but here he is, taking care of you still even though it might make things worse for him.

“Do you love me?”

Wonwoo exhales deeply, pressing his lips together to hide the fact that they’re trembling because he’s so close to tears.

“I know my past self loved you more than life itself.”

“Do you love me?”

“Look–I…”

“Because there’s—there’s clearly something because my heart feels like it’s about to burst and I already want to be with you all the time.” You cry as you honestly bare yourself in front of him, as you tell him all the emotions that have been going through you since the kiss you share with each other minutes ago. “I don’t… I’ve never felt like this before and I’ve always questioned why–wonder what went wrong and if there’s some kind of mistake. But I couldn’t do anything because supposedly he’s my soulmate and I’m supposed to accept that. Because it’s a given and it’s obvious and there’s just no fucking reason for me to question it.”

Wonwoo lets his tears fall as you say all this, his hands warm against yours and he relishes at the way you’re holding on to them tightly, like you want to convince him that there’s something–some way to go around this.

“But you just gave me a reason to question it now.” You sob, reminding him about the talk you had the first time you met each other.

If fate and destiny actually exist, who is there to say that what the universe has decided for you is your best path?

You must look absolutely hideous right now, with tears all over your face that won’t stop no matter how many times you wipe them. But you don’t care, because you finally feel content with him beside you. Because even though it’s selfish and you would need to figure out the whole Joshua situation, you’re not going to let go of the person who finally makes you feel complete, who makes you realize the things your friends have been saying are all true: that it just makes sense, that it’s practically binding to the point where you even hate to think about having to separate with him after this night ends.

“You told me I could always go against my destiny if that’s what I choose to do. Why are you not letting me? Do you not feel it?”

“I do. I swear, I feel it too.” He wipes the last of his tears and calms himself down, makes you panic when he tries to let go of your hands only for his palm to rest warmly against the side of your face. “But you have a soulmate and it’s not something that you can decide by yourself. It wouldn’t be fair to him, don’t you think?”

“Has the universe ever been fair to you?” You ask him, wondering how he can still have this much consideration for someone who he should’ve harbored ill feelings for.

“It leads me to you, doesn’t it? In two different lifetimes too.” He smiles and caresses your cheek, wiping your tears also.

“Please stop making me cry.” You whisper weakly, certain that your eyes will be red and puffy once you’ve stopped crying.

Wonwoo chuckles at this, and the sound of his small laughter brings a smile out of you despite the tears.

“I’m not saying you’re not in your right mind. But perhaps… we’re too high on our emotions right now, don’t you agree?”

You don’t. You really don’t. But you get what he’s saying so you nod and instead bask in the way his thumb is caressing the apple of your cheek.

“So what do you suppose we should do?

“You… might want to think this through and have a talk with… Joshua.” It’s bizarre to hear Joshua’s name from Wonwoo, but you know he’s right and if… if you want to try whatever it is you’re going to try with Wonwoo, you don’t want to do it in hiding and you don’t want to betray Joshua’s trust and respect more than you probably already have at this point. He might hate you, he might not accept it, but you have to at least try and a part of you believes Joshua would understand somehow. “And then we can decide from then?”

“Okay…” You close your eyes and lean forward to rest your forehead against his shoulder, feeling his arm pulling you closer and trying to memorize his scent and his warmth to calm the erratic beat of your heart. “Okay.”

Wonwoo takes you home, sitting a good distance from you in the taxi like you both weren’t pressed against each other just minutes prior. But you know why he’s doing it, and you still appreciate him for going with you just to make sure you’ll go back safely even if he doesn’t have to.

For the first time that night, your mind wanders to Joshua. About how you should approach the subject with him and all the consequences you might need to face afterwards. It’s not going to be pretty even if Joshua somehow understands: what would you say to your family? To his family?

But you can’t let go of Wonwoo. Not now that you’ve met him, that you’ve found out what his existence means to you and you’ve felt all the magic you’ve been hearing from other people.

You wonder now if the reason why you’ve questioned the whole soulmate system is because it doesn’t apply to you personally. Because you didn’t feel the pull and all that should’ve come along with the first meeting.

Now that you’ve felt it with Wonwoo… You glance at him, which Wonwoo catches almost right away. He smiles at you, though you can tell his eyes are full of worries, his mind probably elsewhere. You don’t blame him though, what has transpired tonight is beyond the two of you; it’s only right for him to be out of it.

You suddenly feel like one of those stupid main characters in a romance movie, one who would throw everything away for a man they barely know. But your heart knows Wonwoo, yearns for him before you even know it. In a world where two people are destined to be together… you don’t think it’s stupid of you to want to do this.

When the driver tells you that you’ve arrived you hesitate before you get off, not wanting to leave Wonwoo. But he smiles in encouragement, tells you that you have his number and you’re free to text him after you’ve figured things out.

He omits Joshua from his sentence, but you know that’s what he means.

“Hey.” He calls for you right when you’re about to close the door and reaches out to squeeze your hand once, letting go before you can return the gesture. “Don’t rush it, okay? Take your time. I’ll be waiting. You know I’m good at that.”

Wonwoo waits.

Days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months.

There’s a reason why he gave you his number instead of asking for yours.

He wants you to be ready before deciding anything, wants you to make the decision that you think is best for you.

He knows he’d call you right away if he has your number, to make sure you’re okay and to see how you’re doing.

But that’d be even more painful, he feels like. More painful than a thousand scenarios going through his mind because he’s by himself. At least like this, he knows it’s nothing but scenarios that he comes up with; nothing is real and it’s all in his head.

Like his dreams.

Like his memories.

He exhales as he looks at his phone once again, waiting for your message that isn’t coming.

The third time Wonwoo meets you might be the last time he sees you, after all.

Three months later, October comes around, yellow leaves telling him that autumn has arrived. Not his Autumn, obviously, and he glares at the ginkgo tree he passes by that is still annoyingly green even though everything else has started to turn yellow.

The third week of October, you finally text Wonwoo, apologizing for the time you took and asking if it’s still okay to see each other even though it’s been months since then. He says yes, of course, and you’re currently sitting anxiously in the taxi on your way to his place.

You don’t know how Wonwoo is going to take what you’re about to tell him and you don’t think it’s wise to be having this conversation out in the open; hence why you’re thankful that he agrees when you ask if it’s okay to talk in the privacy of his walls.

“Hi.” He opens the door, offering you a small smile that you return tightly. It’s weird that you immediately feel at peace in his presence despite the anxiety that has been building up in your chest.

“Hi.” You press your lips together, exhaling a deep breath before you apologize to him once again. “Sorry it took me quite some time to text you. I didn’t want to… rush, like you said.”

“It’s okay.” You know it’s not, you can tell by how tense it is and how forced his smile seems to be. Plus, it doesn’t take a genius to know why he looks like he hasn’t been getting decent sleep because you know you probably would’ve looked the same if not for your makeup.

He ushers you to come in, tells you to sit down on the sofa and offers you a drink, in which you say you’re fine with just water.

Wonwoo returns with a cup of warm tea though, and he says that he’s put some honey in it, that you look tense and hopefully the drink helps.

“I figure you’ve made up your mind?”

Truth be told, you can’t even begin to imagine what’s been going on inside Wonwoo’s head. You offered yourself to him only to go missing for three months straight, not even a text that tells him that you’re okay and you’re not forgetting him.

But you didn’t want to text him when things were uncertain, not with what happened right after you got home–with what went down between you and Joshua.

You couldn’t.

That’s why you’ve only finally managed to text him a few days ago. With things being in the clear, you can finally talk to him and decide what’s going to happen moving forward.

“Give me a chance to explain?” You look at him hopefully.

“I wouldn’t tell you to come if I wasn’t going to listen to you.” His smile lifts parts of your tension, and you take a deep breath before you begin, already having imagined this conversation a hundred times in your head.

“Joshua was there when I came home that night.” You bite your lip, already feeling like crying as you recall that scene in your head. “He was on the floor, passed out. He wouldn’t wake up no matter how much I shook him, and I realized he was clutching his neck–right where our soulmate marks are. It was hot, like it was burning before, and I called the hospital right away and–”

“Wait–burning?”

“Yes and… and the mark was fading and it was only hours later that I realized mine was fading also.” You swallow hard at this, a painful wave crashes against your heart as you recall his face when he came to, when he told them what happened and when they told him what actually happened.

“It just… started burning out of nowhere.”

The doctor glanced at you, your eyes were puffy from crying even more than you already did before that, your fingers tight against Joshua’s because you thought you’d lost him.

“Did you feel the burn also?” The doctor pulled you out after Joshua fell back asleep, a conclusion already knitting itself together in her mind. There’s no way you’d be fine enough to stand on your own feet if you had felt the burn, but still, she had to make sure before jumping into conclusions.

“No…” You sniffled. “I… was out with… a friend and he already passed out when I came back home.”

“No pain, at all?”

You shook your head, mentally and physically exhausted after everything that had happened in the last twenty four hours.

“No. I–He’d be fine, right?” You asked in desperation. “What… what happened, exactly?”

“We need to run some more tests. But… you’re sure you didn’t feel anything at all?”

“No, I didn’t. I really didn’t. Does that mean anything?”

“They… they said it’s the universe… taking our marks from us.” You force a smile just right after the first tear falls, your feelings still all over the place even though almost three months have passed since then. “Apparently, it had happened before. Though it’s been fifty years or so since they last heard of a case. They couldn’t really tell why it happened because there weren’t many cases to study and compare, but I felt like… I might have an idea why it happened so I met the doctor privately and told her about you.”

Wonwoo holds back the urge to reach for your hands that are balled into fists, to free your lower lip from your teeth because he’s sure you’d bleed if you bite down just a tad bit harder.

“She said that there’s a possibility that I was right. That… the universe is rearranging my soulmate because I met you. It’s not unheard of, but it’s not something that you’d even find in books because it’s some sort of myth at this point.”

You look up to meet his eyes. His heart breaks at how sad you look, and the protective feeling from three months ago when he saw you crying at one in the morning returns at once. He’s not sure if it’s okay to comfort you this time around though, because by the way you’re relaying the story, he can’t tell at all where you stand exactly.

“I was debating with myself whether it would be better to tell him right away or wait until he got better. But Joshua… caught on easily that something bothered me and it just… came out. I didn’t say your name, and I only told him what he might need to know: that I met someone and it just… made sense.

It wasn’t easy. He was the one laying on the hospital bed but he was also the one comforting me. And I felt so bad and I kept on apologizing to him but he said it’s okay and he understood. That it’s not my fault because he knew I didn’t have a say in how I felt.”

From the thousand scenarios Wonwoo has imagined in the three months you left him in silence, this is not one of them. He can’t even begin to imagine how painful it must’ve been for Joshua, both physically and mentally. His mind takes him back to Jisoo, about what she said about the burn she felt and how it affected her after.

How could Joshua say that in his position?

For what it’s worth, Wonwoo is glad to know that you were meant to be with someone as caring as Joshua is–who is so understanding that he would withstand that kind of pain and said it was fine. That he doesn’t blame you for it.

But where does this leave the two of you now?

“He asked me what I wanted to do now that we’re… no longer bonded by the marks. And I told him honestly that I don’t want to lose him; that I still… love him even though it’s not how he expected me to. That I understand if he doesn’t want me around because it can’t be easy to look at someone who used to be your soulmate.”

You’re sobbing at this point, and he hands you some tissues to wipe your tears, reminds you to breathe before you continue.

“Can you… can you hold me, please?” Your voice is small as you say this, as if you’re uncertain whether you’re allowed to ask that. Wonwoo is glad you did though, because he immediately comes closer and pulls you into his chest, offering you whatever comfort he might be able to give that way. “Sorry, I just–”

“Shh. It’s fine.” Whatever the outcome of this conversation may be, this is the least he can do for you. And perhaps a little for himself also, because it’s painful to see you cry and not able to do anything at all. Because he’s been dreaming of hugging you–the you in this lifetime, not the past one–and he’s not going to pass any chance that’s presented in front of him even if it might be wrong. He still doesn’t know how your talk ended with Joshua, but if you asked him to hold you… that should mean something, right? “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?” You sniffle, pulling away to look at him.

“It is my place, so.” He tries to joke to help you relax, and it works because you weakly hit his chest before you exhale another deep breath and continue after Wonwoo makes you take a sip of your tea.

“He… He’d like to keep me around too.” You say quietly, your tears now replaced with hiccups. “But not now. Because it still hurts and… and he says he’d contact me once he’s ready.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

You shrug, burying yourself further into his neck. Is it bad that it feels so right to do this already? Is it bad that you’re doing this when you’re still trying to move on from your guilt?

“I honestly have no idea… But… Well, he says he wants me to be happy with you and that he doesn’t want me to not give you–us–a chance because I feel guilty towards him. That… what’s done is done and he’ll eventually be okay.”

“He’s very kind, isn’t he?” He comments instead, unsure how to feel after everything you’ve said. A big part of him is relieved, but it’s still hard to be completely happy when he knew it cost someone the kind of pain that would last a lifetime.

“The kindest.” You smile for the first time, agreeing with him. “I think that’s also why I’ve always had this guilt within me, you know? Even before I met you. Because I just know I can’t return his feelings but he was supposed to be my soulmate.”

“I understand.” He whispers against your head, leaning his cheek there. “Is that also why it took you three months to text me?”

“Partly… yeah. I ended up taking care of him until he got discharged, and we decided to just… talk to our parents separately about what happened and what… might happen moving forward. And then I spent some time arranging my thoughts and cleaning up his stuff from my apartment. I haven’t given them back to him, but they’re all in a box in my place. So… yeah. Sorry for not texting you at all.”

He hums and holds you tighter, feels the way your arms are also hugging him in apology. He doesn’t press about your parents, he supposes you would’ve talked about it if you want to. But you’ve just relayed a very emotionally loaded story which must be very exhausting in itself.

“I did tell you to take your time.” He says, a smile blooming into his face at what he says next. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

“Thank you for letting me come back to you.” You say instead, pulling away from him to meet his eyes. Your eyes must be puffy from all the crying, gosh, you seem to be crying all the time when you’ve only seen this guy four times in total. You wonder if you were this much of an emotional wreck too in your past life, but you decide against asking about it because it does not matter now.

Your past lives might be the one that eventually leads you to each other; but Wonwoo has probably had enough stories regarding the past life and you don’t see why you should talk about it when you have the future in front of you.

“They’ve stopped, you know?” Wonwoo suddenly says.

“What have?”

“The dreams.” He presses his lips together and looks at you for comfort, which you readily give as you squeeze his shoulder. “They don’t appear anymore. Like, completely stopped. I do dream of you, but not… you from the past life. Just you.”

“How do you know it’s not me from the past?”

He takes your hand before he answers, gently lifts it up to point at your empty wrist and smiles.

“Because there’s no mark on your wrist.”

“Ah… right.” You lean forward to rest your forehead against his shoulder, and you spend a moment like that: your body pressed against each other and the ghost of his lips on top of your head.

It’s then that you whisper, a little afraid but also hopeful–perhaps even excited at what the future might have in store for you two.

“Are we really doing this?”

“A little too late to not do this, I think.” He jokes, which earns him another hit on the chest and a glare that doesn’t affect him at all. He cups your cheek and looks into your eyes, making you shy from the sudden attention. “If you want it then I want it. Easy as that.”

You press your lips together and bask in his stare, get lost in his eyes as you finally try to let go of the guilt holding you down and focus more on the certainty that you felt that night you tried to convince Wonwoo to do something about your situation.

“I’ll be okay.” Joshua reassured you for the nth time as you dropped him off his place, your second home that you probably wouldn’t be able to visit until an indefinite time. “Don’t worry too much about me, okay? You know how I am.”

“I’m really–”

“I don’t want you to apologize again.” He cuts you off, his voice stern. “I don’t blame you, I really don’t. I’m happy to know you’ve met someone that has made you complete. I’m sorry for not being able to do that to you. It must’ve been hard for you all those time, hm? So try to be happy now. Don’t think too much about me. I will be okay, trust me on that. I’ve never gone back on my words, have I? I don’t regret the time I had with you and I don’t want you to feel guilty for not feeling a certain way.”

“Let’s do it, then?” You say, wanting to make sure like there’s any way Wonwoo would say no. “Fuck the universe, right?”

Wonwoo laughs and gently squishes your cheeks before he nods, his forehead leaning to rest against yours, his breath warm against your face even though his lips aren't touching yours just yet.

“Fuck the universe, indeed.”

It's later that night that you point at the inside of his wrist and gasp when you check yours: identical marks of a twin gingko leaves intertwined with each other adorning your wrist and his.

Wonwoo grins.

His Autumn is finally here.

©wonwoonlight – all rights reserved. I don’t allow any reposting, translation, and any other kind of redistribution of this fic. Please tell me if you’re aware of anyone doing this without my permission.

permanent taglist: @kyeomjjigae @stantrash171819 @sebongmochi @luveveryonewoo @thinkinboutwonu @kpopjackie @ursweetener @lavenderautumnx @itsveronicaxxx @shuahoshiscoups @sunshinein17 @leechanniee @twogyuu @hoe4wonwoo @h3h3tm0n @noraehey @seokshook @rubyhoons @02psh @just-here-to-read-01 @listxn @janandbeyond @pearlygraysky @baekhyunstruly @svtreverie @coveyland @reallydgafaboutmyusername @sysymei @ovai @aikisbbq @fr0g-filez @nvmbheart

pls tell me if you wanna be removed btw it's totally ok, no hard feelings!!

A/N 2: well, if you're reading this, thank you once again!! i have never written this trope before and i honestly can't tell at all if you'll like it or not. but i wrote this for wonwoo's birthday, so hopefully i'll have it in me to accept it if it's not your cup of tea. but anyway, it's been some time since i write anything this long also--didn't even know i had it in me to still write anything this long, and it kinda made me realize that... this might be my last long piece for a quite some time. it's not easy to write this, to see my notifications everyday and see less and less feedbacks while the likes take up 95% of them. i've said it before, but it gets discouraging the more it goes. i'm not announcing hiatus or anything, but i hope you know where my blog stands at this point. happy birthday once again wonwoo, my muse, the loml 🥰💕

#caratwritersclub #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo angst #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst #seventeen fic #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenario #seventeen au #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo au #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines

715 notes · View notes

callsign-dexter · 3 months

Text

Heatwave of Emotions 18+

Request: Hey hooooo my dear ❤️ I love your blog sooooo much that I cannot resist to send in a Kelly Severide idea for my bday on Monday 🫣🥰 but of course you can write it whenever you have time !It would be something where you're just moved to Chicago, working at 51 and everyone immediately loves you, especially one grumpy Lieutenant. So after some weeks adjusting to everything and even getting closer with Kelly, which everyone notices and sees how happy you make each other, you finally agree on a date with him. Which turns out absolutely great and you're about to kiss as some random chick disturbs you both (she's been a one time thing with him at some point but not something serious) and you leave him standing there, being hurt and sad. The next days you barely talk with him and don't get him any chance to explain, so the rest of 51 tries talking in your mind that he's never been that serious about a girl until you showed up and stuff. Sooooo on a free day you show up at his apartment, wanting to talk with him, but as he opens the door you notice he just came out of the shower and you cannot get your thoughts together, so you kiss him, which he gladly returns and the situation gets into his bedroom, getting away all doubts of you🔥😉

Pairings: Kelly Severide x Paramedic!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut

Masterlist

A/N: Happy Belated Birthday to the anon who sent this in! I hope you enjoy it!

A/N 2: @talesofreading and @imagine-all-the-fandoms here is some Kelly Severide for ya!

When you moved to Firehouse 51 in Chicago from your old house back in Colorado, who wasn’t the best towards women, you thought this was going to be the same way. Boy, were you wrong. When you walked in you saw several women and the house and when they saw you, they immediately welcomed you and made it feel like home. Sylvie Brett, Stella Kidd, and Gabriela Dawson became your immediate friends and you couldn’t ask for anyone better to hang out with. When you were introduced to the rest of everyone, they were quick to make you feel welcomed and that made you smile. There was one person that caught your eye and you could tell that you had caught his eye as well. Once everyone cleared out and it was just you and him in the room, he approached you. “Hi I’m Kelly Severide. I work on Squad 3.” He said and smiled a dazzling smile that had you swooning and you smiled back at him.

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N. I’m gonna be working on Ambulance 61 with Sylvie and Gabriela.” You said and he smiled and nodded.

“You’ll be with the best. So, what made you move here?” He asked and you could tell he was actually curious and not looking for small talk.

“My firehouse back in Colorado wasn’t the best towards women and my ex-boyfriend cheated on me and he worked in the same house. I was the laughing stalk and needed a new start.” You said and he looked like he was actually pissed that happened to you.

“That is no way to treat someone as beautiful as you.” He said and you actually blushed and you were going to say something else but the bells rang for Ambulance 61 and he looked at you. “Well, it looks like it is your time to shine.” He said and you nodded as Sylvie came and motioned you to come and you did as you were walking towards the ambulance and got in the back, she turned to you.

“You and Kelly, huh?” She said with a smirk and you just bowed your head and smiled while blushing.

“Ohhhh, what is this about?” Gabriela asked and Sylvie turned to her.

“When I went to get her, she and Kelly were talking up a storm and he was smiling like actually smiling.” She said

“Are you saying that Kelly and Y/N have a crush on each other already?” She asked and you just blushed furiously because yes it was true.

“Exactly what I’m saying.” She said

“Stop it guys.” You said but you were smiling and they laughed.

“In all seriousness, this is the first time I actually saw him smile an actual smile.” Sylvie said

“Really?” You asked and she nodded and turned back to look at you.

“Yes, he doesn’t smile a lot and he has been a grouch for a while.” She said but you didn’t get to ask any more questions because you had arrived at the scene. You three worked perfectly together but you couldn’t stop thinking about Kelly and he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

——————————————————————

4 weeks had gone by and you were loving your new house and they were loving you. You fit in well with the group. We were close with all them but you were very close to none other than Kelly Severide. You won’t admit it but you had a crush on the handsome Squad 3 member whenever you were in the room together. Both of you could not stop smiling and making heart eyes with each other.

Not many calls were coming in so you took this time to tidy things up and get to know more of your coworkers. You had just come back from using the restroom when you heard Casey's voice and stopped where you couldn’t be seen, especially when you heard your name. “Ever since Y/N came, Kelly has been a lot nicer.” He said

“Oh absolutely, he is smiling a lot more and it's creepy but it’s nice.” Stella said and everyone agreed this made you smile to yourself. You had noticed that his mood had changed and to be honest it was nice to have a male being so nice and making you feel noticed. It had gone quiet so you had walked away with a smile on your face. You walked where the trucks were and found Kelly sitting there and that just made you smile even more. You walked over to him and sat down and he looked up and smiled.

“What are you smiling about?” He asked with a smile.

“Oh, nothing really. I just love this house and it’s nowhere near my last one and I’m so grateful for that.” You said and he leaned up further.

“We absolutely love having you here. I know I do most of all. Speaking of knowing you. I have to admit that I do have a crush on you.” He said and that made you blush.

“I do too.” You said shyly.

“Well, if we feel the same way then maybe go out on a date with me. I know you have turned me down in the past.” He said, this hasn’t been the first time that he had asked and each time you had politely turned him down and he understood and didn’t push but that didn’t stop him from asking a few weeks later. You looked at him thinking, this is the first time that you both had admitted that you had crushes on each other.

“Ok, fine. I’ll go on a date with you.” You said and the biggest smile appeared on his face.

“Really?” He asked and you nodded.

“Really.” You said

“What kind of food do you like?” He asked

“I really love Thai food.” You said and he smiled and nodded.

“I know this really good Thai place. I’ll pick you up at 7 tomorrow night.” He said and you nodded.

“Sounds like a date.” You said

“Indeed, it does.” He said and then the bells went off. You all were heading out onto the call.

——————————————————————

The day of the date started the few days you had off and you were somewhat looking forward to it but not really, you had really just wanted to be with your crew because being alone in a house by yourself sucked. You had spent all day getting ready for your date that you had even called Stella, Sylvie, and Gabriela over to help. When they asked why and you told them they practically squealed and dragged you to your room and started going through your closet. After finally settling on a pair of jeans that hugged your legs and accented what they needed and a nice red shirt that once again accented everything it needed to, you were ready. While you waited, they did your hair and makeup and then you all gossiped. It was mostly about Kelly but you didn't mind not in the least bit. They left around 6:30 PM and now you just had to wait.

7 PM rolled around and Kelly was knocking on your door. During the weeks everyone had exchanged phone numbers with you and some of them, mostly the 3 females that had become your friends, knew you address one being Kelly. You walked to your door and opened to find him on the other side holding some flowers and that made you smile. “These are for you.” He said and handed you the flowers which you gladly took.

“Thank you. Peonies are my favorite.” You said taking them and bringing them up to your nose to smell them. “Come inside while I put these away.” You said and stepped aside and he did just that.

“So, our reservation is at 7:30 PM.” He said “It doesn't take that long to get there.” He added and you nodded as you finished putting the flowers in a vase. When it was close to 7:30 PM you both started to head that way. It turns out it was a walking distance but he insisted on driving and you let him. He found a place to park and then he was shutting off the engine and walking over to your side of the car and opening the door for you and that made you smile.

“Thank you.” You said and he smiled.

“You’re very much welcome.” He said and when you were plenty enough away from the door, he shut it and locked it. You walked in and straight to the desk “Reservation for two under Severide.” He said and the hostess nodded and smiled.

“Right this way.” They said and you followed them. You both were led outside to a semi-private area and Kelly pulled out the chair for you. The date was going well and you two got to know a lot about each other. When the date was over, he paid for it and then you both left. As you were walking to his car that was parked a few feet away, the both of you stopped at a little park that was close by with a fountain.

“I really had a nice time with you.” You said looking up at him and he smiled.

“I did too. Do you wish you would’ve gone out with me sooner?” He asked and you chuckled.

“I think I was right to turn you down those three other times. It just helped make this night even more perfect.” You said and he chuckled.

“I get it. I’m just glad you said yes, this time.” He said and then turned to you and the both of you stood there staring at each other and you both slowly leaned in. Your lips were almost touching when a female voice sounded.

“Kelly? Kelly Severide?” The voice said and that made you both look up and over at the voice.

“Alexa.” He said and your stomach dropped. Everyone told you about his flings and relationships that didn’t work out. You expected to meet them sooner or later but not now.

“Why haven’t you texted me back? I wanna hook up again.” Alexa said and that made you feel even worse.

“I told you we were done.” He said and he shook his head and looked over at you.

“Baby, I promise we are done.” He said and you just shook your head. Alexa put her hands on his biceps and got all up and close.

“It’s only been a week. A week too long. Ditch this tramp and come back to my place with me.” She said trying her hardest to work. Kelly didn’t say anything.

“I can’t believe I actually fell for this. I should’ve known better. You’re just as bad as my ex, you were hooking up with her when you were talking and trying to go out with me. You know what? I’m so done. Never talk to me again, Severide.” You said and he cringed and started to panic. You only called him Severide while at work all the other times it had been Kelly. You pushed past them and started to walk away. You heard some talking and the fact he wasn’t running after you right now broke your heart and tears fell. “I was so stupid.” You told yourself you were almost home when you heard your name.

“Y/N, please stop.” Kelly said and you did but didn’t turn around. “I haven’t talked to that girl in months and when you came into the house all communication stopped. You have to believe me. She was lying.” He said and you shook your head and turned around and when he saw the tear tracks running down it broke him.

“I can’t. I’m sorry. How do I know she’s not lying?” You asked and he hesitated and you let out a watery chuckle. “Do me a favor and lose my number. The only time I will speak to you is at work but that’s it.” You said and walked the rest of the way to your home leaving him standing there. You shut the door and slid down it and sat there and sobbed.

Kelly was distraught. Since you had come into the house, he hadn’t hooked up with anyone, he wanted you and only you. You made his days better and his drinking had cut down tremendously. He just hoped that he could talk to you and let you know that but right now you weren’t listening to him. He immediately pulled out his phone and sent a couple of text messages to you and called you but the messages went unanswered and the calls went straight to voicemail.

——————————————————————

When it came time for you to go back to work you were dreading it. You didn’t want to see him at all. You told him all about your ex and how awful men were to you. When you had arrived at the station the only spot available was by Kelly’s car and you sighed but parked next to it. You killed the engine and got out and walked into the nearly silent station. You walked into the locker room and got changed and then you were heading to find everyone else. As you were searching for anyone, Kelly rounded the corner and you stopped and so he did. He looked like hell. He had bags under his eyes and his eyes weren’t as bright. “Y/N.” He said your name with a breathless whisper but you just shook your head and walked away.

Each time he tried to talk to you, you would just back away or make up an excuse that you had something to do and leave. You felt bad for doing so but he did break your heart and most importantly your trust. You still love him but you had built walls up and they weren’t going to come down anytime soon. You had to put up with him for 3 days while you worked and it was gonna be difficult but you were going to pull through no matter what.

Over the next few days, you avoided him like the plague and each time he tried to corner you and tried to explain the bell had rung each time saving you. You honestly didn’t know if you were going to give him another chance or not. Everyone had settled into the kitchen while Squad 3 was out on a call. While you were there, they got to talking about anything but the subject of Kelly had come up. “Gosh Kelly has become so irritable in the last few days. He’s even more grumpier and pretty much has gone back to his old ways.” Stella said and then she turned to you. “How was the date?” She asked.

“It was great and he was a gentleman. Afterwards we went to a little park near my house and as we were talking some girl came up named Alexa. She said that they hadn’t hooked up in weeks. She started touching him and he didn’t even try to stop her. He knew my history with men and how I was cheated on.” You said and everyone was quiet.

“You know he has certainly changed since you came here. He started to become happy and friendly. His attitude has changed drastically.” Sylvie said and everyone nodded in agreement.

“You’ve changed him for the better.” Gabriela said and you just sat there quietly taking it all in.

“This Alexa girl he hasn’t talked to in months, almost close to a year.” Casey said and you looked up surprised.

“So, he was telling the truth?” You asked and they all nodded and now you felt bad for not giving him the time of day to actually explain.

“He was. He is so in love with you that it is almost sickening.” Herrmann said, you thought about it and then the bells were ringing and Ambulance 61 and Truck 81 was being called out. As you were walking to the ambulance, the Squad 3 truck was pulling into the station. As Kelly got out you both made eye contact with each other but you had gotten in and shut the doors and you were off.

——————————————————————

When you got off shift you had debated on going straight home but you needed to see Kelly. You walked out to your car and noticed that he was already gone and you sighed. You got into your car and started the engine and headed over to his apartment. You knew where it was because you had been over there several times just to hang out and that was the first time you had admitted to yourself that you were absolutely in love with him.

You pulled into a space and parked and killed the engine. You started your way into the building and walked to the elevator and pressed the button and it immediately opened. You got in and then pressed the button for his floor. You waited anxiously for it to arrive at his floor and when it did you knew there was no going back. You got off and walked to his door and knocked. There was no answer. You debated on going back home or not but didn’t get a chance to turn around because the door was opening and it was revealing Kelly with a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair was wet. “Y/N?” He asked and you couldn’t think of anything to say as you looked him up and down.

After a few minutes you finally had enough and no words were coming to you so you just smashed your lips onto his and he returned it. He was so surprised that it had pushed him back but he had grabbed your waist and pulled you inside and shut the door. He pushed you up against the door and the heavy make out session continued. You finally pulled apart when air was needed and you could feel his erection from underneath the towel. “I’m sorry. I believe you and should’ve let you explain.” You said and he shook his head.

“That doesn’t matter right now. Jump.” He said and you did so and then he was back to kissing you, hard. He walked his way to his bedroom and gently laid you down. You broke the kiss and pulled the towel off and your mouth watered at the sight, he was huge and you loved it. “You like what you see?” He asked and you nodded.

“Very much so, but I’m wearing too many clothes.” You said and he chuckled and then started to slowly undress you while caressing every part of your body and kissing it. Soon you were completely naked and showing all of you to him.

“You’re absolutely beautiful.” He said and you blushed. He laid down on the bed and gently spread your legs and dove in. When his mouth met your hot core, you moaned and grabbed onto his head and pushed him more into you.

“Kelly.” You moaned out and he smirked, he circled your clit and then he pushed a finger into and you were throwing your head back. He thrusted into you and then added a second finger “Oh my gosh.” You moaned out that the rubber band feeling was starting to get tight and you were close. “I want to come on your cock.” You moaned out and he nodded and licked one more broad stripe up you before he was lifting his head and pulling out his fingers. He crawled up to you and kissed you, you tasted yourself on him.

“You ready, Baby?” He asked while pumping himself twice and you nodded.

“I need you inside me.” You said and he nodded and positioned himself at your entrance and he pushed in. You both moaned together as he did so.

“You’re so tight.” He said and when he bottomed out you felt so full and he stretched you in all the right places. He stayed still for a minute letting you adjust.

“Move.” You moaned out and he nodded and started to gently thrust into you. Your hands went to his back and your fingers dug into his shoulder blades.

“You’re perfect.” He said and started to thrust faster making you moan louder.

“Right there.” You said as he hit your g-spot. “Oh my gosh, I love you.” You moaned out and that just made him go faster.

“I love you too, Baby. You’re the only one for me.” He said and dipped his head down into your neck and sucked on it. He gently bit it and that you were clenching around him.

“I’m close.” He said and you moaned out.

“Me too. I want you to cum in me.” You moaned out and that just seemed to make him go faster.

Kelly’s thrust was becoming sloppy and you knew he was close. Your fingernails bit into him making him hiss. He reached a hand down to your clit and started to rub vigorously which helped you get closer. “Cum with me.” He moaned out and then he was bending down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and sucking on it. When he gently bit it is when you came and you clenched around him which made him cum. You both came while calling out each other’s names. You both were coming down from your highs when he pulled slowly out of you and laid next to you. You both panted out of breath but a smile was on both of your faces. “I wasn’t lying when I said you’re the only one for me.” He said and you turned to look at him.

“I know. Everyone talked to me. I’m sorry for not letting you explain.” You said and he smiled at you.

“It’s ok. I’m just glad we’re here with each other now.” He said and you nodded “I love you.” He said and you smiled.

“I love you too.” You replied

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He asked and you sat up leaning on an elbow.

“Yes. I would love to.” You said and he smiled and he leaned over and kissed you. You were his and he was yours and that is all that mattered. Nothing was going to change that not now or ever.

Tag list:

@kmc1989

@els-marvelvsp

@atarmychick007

@nyx2021

@grandstrangerphantom

@angenu01-blog

@talesofreading

176 notes · View notes

thefreakandthehair · 1 year

Text

happy (belated, sorry!) birthday to @henderdads!! this was supposed to be just fluffy but y'know. the hurt/comfort monster got me. I hope you had a perfect day! <333

can also be found here on AO3!

stars and satellites (will always bring me home)

---

Eddie tries not to think about his birthday.

He and Wayne have an agreement to let it pass with little to no mention, save for his 16th birthday when he’s able to start driving and his 18th birthday when he hands Eddie a few singles and tells him to go grab himself his first legal pack of cigarettes— and to get one for him, too, since he’ll be at the store anyways.

It works for Eddie and he goes as far as to hide his birthday from his friends for as long as he possibly can. Gareth, Jeff, and Frank still have no idea. The new found family he’s been adopted into since averting the (apparently third or fourth) Apocalypse don’t know, despite being asked by just about everyone at least once. It’s a fine-tuned skill, evading the question and changing the subject.

“Hey Eddie, when’s your birthday? Did we miss it already this year?” Dustin asks at Will’s own birthday party.

Eddie smirks. “Roll for insight, Young Henderson.”

“Alright, got a die?”

“Nope, darn!” Eddie pretends to pat the pockets of his jeans before shrugging and walking away.

Nancy is the hardest to fend off but unless she finds his birth information through the microfiche at the library, he’s stalwart in his stance. She might, though, and that’s his only real concern. But by and large, his friends let it go, chalking it up to one of Eddie’s many quirks and occasionally joking about it when someone else’s birthday rolls around. The one person who won’t put it down though?

Steve Harrington.

Steve I Throw Parties For Everyone Harrington. Steve I’m Going To Annoy You About This At Least Once A Week Harrington. Steve Is It Today? Is It Tomorrow? You Seem Like A Winter Baby? Harrington.

And truthfully, Eddie can’t find it within himself to be genuinely mad at him about it, despite having snapped at everyone else who’s dared to ask more than once. Eddie grants Steve a pass for reasons he’s not quite ready to evaluate just yet, reasons he knows he’ll never tell, reasons that would require the same security clearance that knowing his birthday would because knowing his birthday would mean knowing this past. He’s not sure yet if he wants everyone— or anyone— to know about his dear old dad.

In true The Universe Must Be Sentient And Actively Hate Me fashion, Steve happens to ask him again on his actual birthday. Steve’s backyard is glowing in the bluish tint of the full moon, stars twinkling in and out behind rogue clouds and smoke billowing from the joint they pass between them up towards the sky. It’s cold— early February in Hawkins is no joke— but Steve and Eddie have discovered an affinity for the cold breeze against their skin, finding it grounding and centering in its own way.

“So, when’s your birthday? Is it getting close?” It’s a question Eddie’s heard no less than twenty times in the same cheeky intonation, Steve having learned not to expect anything besides an out of pocket response. What he doesn’t expect is silence. Steve never expects silence from Eddie.

He turns to look at Eddie and sees him sitting in the same patio chair he’s been in all night, right next to him— too close, but not close enough at the same time. One leg is drawn up beneath one thigh and Eddie looks up at the sky, pointedly avoiding eye contact. If the moment didn’t feel as heavy as it does, Steve would find himself staring at the muscles of his neck and the way his throat bobs when he swallows. It is heavy though, and Steve can only focus on the weight of the space between them.

“Hey, you good? You know I’m just fucking with you, right?” Steve asks, passing the joint back to him as an excuse to pull his attention back from the sky above them. Of all of the things Steve’s imagined having to fight for attention from, the moon was certainly not one of them but he supposes that tracks for Eddie. Nothing about Eddie is according to plan.

Eddie takes the joint and carefully avoids Steve’s eyes, keeping his glance at his hands before returning to the stars and taking a deep inhale. Another few hits will make this all go away, he thinks to himself. The day had been difficult— memories he’d rather not have creeping up and wrapping themselves around his limbs like living vines.

Steve watches little bits of smoke curl out on his exhale and he shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

“Ed, seriously, I’ll stop asking. I’m just teasing, I’ll quit it, just stop with the silence, dude. It’s… weird.”

“Why?” Eddie asks, quietly. It’s just a single word but he’ll take it.

“Why is it weird?”

“Yeah.”

“Because you’re not quiet. You don’t do silence unless something’s wrong.”

“Maybe something is.”

Steve sits for a second, his brain running in circles around itself. You fucked it up, c’mon, you kept asking, you knew better, why’d you have to keep prying, now you made him uncomfortable like you swore not to do—

“I can smell your brain overheating from here, Steve. Relax. It’s not you, I promise.” Eddie chuckles humorlessly under his breath and he makes a spontaneous decision, an impulsive decision he might regret but there's a little part of him that finds it hard to believe he'll ever regret sharing something with Steve.

“Then what is it? What’s wrong? Is it, y’know, End of the World- related or…?” Steve’s voice trails off. Part of the reason they’ve come to have these nights smoking in the cold, alone together, is that exactly: End of the World- related invisible scars. But Eddie just shakes his head no and sighs, placing the joint down on the glass patio table.

“It’s today.”

“Huh?”

Eddie turns to face him and raises both eyebrows. “It’s. Today. My birthday. It’s today.”

“Wait— shit, really? And you’re telling me?” Steve’s heart pounds in his chest, not blind to the gravity of Eddie telling him his closest kept secret.

Eddie shrugs and smiles without it touching his eyes. “Guess so. Take it to your grave, please?”

“Well yeah, man, I don’t make a habit of going around and telling people’s secrets. But… thanks? For trusting me?” Steve reaches the few inches to Eddie’s shoulder and lets his hand rest there. It's contact but it's not enough. It’s never really enough, but it has to be. He has no reason to think Eddie feels the same way about him and he’ll be damned if he loses his best friend— second only to Robin, but that’s besides the point. The point is, he rests his hand on Eddie’s shoulder and lets his fingers move in slow repetitive circles into the fabric of Eddie’s jacket.

“You’re welcome. It’s just— I have some… not so great memories attached to my birthday so I don’t celebrate it. Rather it just not exist, to be honest.”

“Well, since it’s a big secret, you could just make it another day, y’know. We’ll all respect it and you can, like, create new memories and start over.”

Eddie glances down at Steve’s hand wandering, absentmindedly trailing his fingers along the base of his neck and to collarbone. Fuck his birthday, and fuck the horrible memories Clyde Munson had poured into it. The way his heart tumbles from his chest into his mouth negates all of it.

“Really? Any suggestions?” He breathes, relieved that Steve doesn’t pry. He’s learned enough about Steve’s own childhood though to imagine why he doesn’t. For all of their outward differences, Steve gets it. Gets him.

Steve watches Eddie’s eyes widen before they glance down at his hand and back up, filled with something that looks dangerously like hope. Steve, in turn, feels something dangerously like hope.

“Maybe the day you woke up? In the hospital? I don’t know, I can see you liking the whole phoenix thing. Rebirth into something beautiful or whatever.”

Eddie’s breath catches. Beautiful feels like an overinflated balloon floating precariously through the woods in Steve’s backyard— cheerful and buoyant, but always at the risk of catching on too sharp of a branch and tumbling back down to the hard ground.

“Beautiful, huh?”

“Yeah. It fits you.” Steve’s hand wanders again, this time intentionally, to brush a piece of Eddie’s hair behind his ear and cupping the side of his face.

“Steve…” He whispers as they move slowly— achingly slowly— together, as though attached by an invisible thread. And maybe they are— the little red string of fate that’s been pulling them closer and closer since the day they met. Close enough now, finally, for Eddie to know how Steve’s lips feel against his, how his hands feel in his hair, how his heart beats in his chest when Eddie presses one hand there to tether himself to reality with nothing. No one but his stars watch him find his way back home, to Steve, where he should've been all along.

Eddie’s new birthday becomes April 2nd, the day he’d woken up from the induced coma. Eddie and Steve’s anniversary becomes February 9th, his old birthday. He can’t imagine a better way to create beauty out of ashes.

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stfic #myfic

926 notes · View notes

pinkglitterygelpen · 4 months

Text

crows

summary, crows are known to gift small trinkets they find on their travels to those who have been kind to them, much like daryl always keeping an eye out for things he thinks you’ll like. (1.6k)

dear reader, happy birthday normi !!! this is based off that moment in season 4 where daryl picks up that jasper stone and stares at it for the rest of the episode, like the thoughtful and sensitive cutie he is. this is quite long and wordy and sadly self indulgent lol.

before the world ended, the concept of owning things was different. some people wanted to own the earth, other people didn’t want anyone to own anything at all. we owned things by paying for them with money, to be insured that it rightfully belonged to us. that, with most other civil systems, died a sudden and complete death.

that’s changed, whether it’s easier or even more difficult now is up for debate. most things we would classify as our own are things we need, things we’ve taken from the relics of a family home or abandoned store. it was painful for a while, scavenging felt dirty and disrespectful, like we’re tearing apart any remnants of the people who died so that we don’t have to. but, now, it’s been over a year and it’s more rationalised, it’s something we need to do to survive.

some people thought the forgotten world had become a grave yard, but you saw it like a museum. even though most people had disappeared, their belongings immortalised them, a simple symbol of the life they once lived. knowing you might be the last person on this earth to take notice of the wedding photos and framed certificates made you feel a sort of comfort, acknowledging their existence maybe meant they could acknowledge yours and understand you’re only picking them apart to live on for the people that weren’t that lucky.

you’d accumulated a small collection of memories that didn’t belong to you, lockets and city magnets you knew where once treasured by someone else, too precious to be left abandoned. they rested in a beige shoe box in your cell. no one really knew about it, except for daryl.

not only was he the one you went on runs with, so he’d seen you picking up the small memorabilia; he also found himself in your cell quite frequently, nosing around. he’d never admit but he was always seeking out your comfort, when he couldn’t be with you he’d surround himself with you. reading your books, cleaning your guns, laying on your bed.

a while ago you came back from a quick job with carol to find him hunched over your makeshift dresser, carefully lifting thing out the box to look at them in the light. you didn’t try and explain it to him because you knew you didn’t have to, he might not have completely understood why you kept what he thought was junk but he didn’t mind to. you walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your cheek between his shoulders; he thinks it’s beautiful, how much love you have for everything.

“makes me sad.” he speaks low, only for you. holding what looks like it could’ve been an engagement ring you found in a nightstand next to a bed containing the corpse of a woman.

“doesn’t have to.” lifting your head to place your chin on his shoulder, getting a better look what he’s holding. he turns his head, lips almost touching your cheek, waiting for you to continue.

“you don’t have to see it as love that’s been lost, it’s proof of love after loss.” there’s a beat of silence before he places the ring back in the box and turns in your arms, holding your head to his chest.

“that’s nice.” you don’t see his face and he doesn’t say anything else, you don’t know what he’s feeling but you never have to with daryl. he’s not good with words but he lets you know in other ways, the things you need to know.

the next day he went on a run with some of the men to clear out a small cottage they’d came across deep in the trees. shuffling through cabinets and draws to find any supplies worth lugging back to prison, daryl found a small porcelain bunny, something a grandma would keep. only around four inches tall with minimal detail and a blue floral pattern on its back. after making sure no wandering eyes had found him, he secured it safely in the front pocket of his trousers to give to you when he got back. as always, he found you tentatively lingering near the gates for his arrival and he felt a spark go right through his heart. when he held your hand in his and placed the token of affection in your palm, there was no telling who was happier. you understood that him thinking about you even when he was supposed be working and remembering your little quirks was his way of showing love. he understood that he’d steal a thousand small bunnies to make you happy.

from that point on, he was never not looking for things to bring to you. he was particular about if the nick knacks where good enough sometimes, other times he’d bring you actual stones he thought where coolly shaped or extra smooth. every once in a while, when he was feeling particularly emotional or you’d been extra close, he’d be super sentimental. coming up with stories for them or attaching a specific symbolism. like today, he found a jasper stone.

as soon as the pretty green chip of rock caught his eye he reached to the ground to pick it up. whipping the dirt off with the pads of his fingers, being conscious of his strength he so often disregarded as to not damage it. he heard michonne huff out a sarcastic comment and gave a half-assed response but really he wasn't focused on any conversation. too busy thinking about what it meant, he never had time for the spiritual and cooky phases others went through but he knew people used believe these kind of rocks had meaning. he had no idea where to start with it but he was sure you probably did. it was a long day of work, he would so much rather be in his home with you, he must have pulled the rock out of his pocket thirty times to think about what you'd have to say about it when he showed you.

"hey." he greeted you simply after watching you from behind for a few seconds, folding clothes at the laundry station.

"hey. how was it?" you reply with a smile, trying not to reveal the anxiety that you felt for him every time he was away from you and outside the walls, failing by giving into your initial instinct to grabs his cheeks and inspect him for any injuries. he soothes your hearts aches with one kiss your palm and small smile.

"'m fine." he waits a pause to take you in before reaching into his pocket to pull out the rock. "look what i found." he watches your face light up immediately when you see it, what he's anticipated all day. "i think its jasper. definitely real though, found it in the dirt, near some water. there's probably more, i could always look." most of what he says sounds like a question, getting shy only because he wants you like his small gift. you look up from inspecting the stone to catch his eyes, leaning in for a short but rich kiss. "if you'd like."

"thank you." he nods awkwardly, head down to conceal his growing smile. "well, its definitely jasper." you hold the stone to his temple, he just stares into your eyes as you compare your thoughts. "matches your eyes."

shying away even more now, reaching up to rub his palm over his face, unable to accept the simple yet bold flattery. "don't do that." he grumbles out the statement in an effort to avoid the all too familiar distaste any praise causes him, years of abuse and neglect conditioning him to believe he doesn't deserve it. you see it written all over his face and it causes a crack through our heart, using the back of the hands holding the stone to brush his cheek, you wont stop loving him until he believes it.

"this's very thoughtful of you, ill find a good place for it." you wrap your arms around his neck, elbows on his shoulders, chest to his, undoubtedly a nosy pair of eyes watching from somewhere close by. you kiss his cheek like you've done a thousand times before, lips placing a protective layer over his precious skin and delicate soul. he wants to give into you so bad, lay his head over your heart and let you bury him in your arms forever, but he's just not there yet. he hopes that somehow you understand what he's telling you through all his efforts to find nice things for you. he doesn't know it, but you do.

he leans back from your embrace, just far enough to look into your eyes but still bask in your warmth. "do you know what it means?", almost embarrassed of his statement he speaks quietly.

"i remember my grandmother hanging a jasper stone she'd bought in the shape of a heart over my bedroom door when i was a teenager, 'said it would give me strength through changes and new beginnings, she had loads." its silent for a few seconds, the sounds of the prison fill in the blanks. carl kicking up a fuss about something, rick telling him off, carol bashing pots and pans around as she cleans, glen stomping on the gravel. its a welcome moment of peace, everyone can only hope lasts till tommorow.

"i like that." the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. his hands coming to rest on your back, rubbing up and down as he takes in his environment. "maybe we hang this over the door to the cell?" he looks at you expectantly, you smile back at him and nod your head. leading each other to the block holding hands, the little rock safely between them.

the world is surely lacking in its comforts, you're one of the lucky ones to have still be able to love. wherever he goes, whatever he sees, he'll remember that and carry it with him. his tiny trinkets he brings home to you carry an amount of affection no one can bother to measure, its beautiful and its yours.

#daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #norman reedus x reader #norman reedus fanfiction

390 notes · View notes

strawberryspence · 1 year

Text

happy birthday @giiiiigiiiii! here's a tiny lil thing for my dear musician friend. 🥺💗

There’s music when Eddie finally comes home. There has been a schedule mix up at work, leading his coworker to come early. Eddie decided to take it as a little blessing. Maybe get some take out for Steve, they can lounge around the rest of the night.

They haven’t really seen each other a lot lately, Steve has been busy with school and work and Eddie with work and band.

Eddie tiptoes to the their master bedroom, ready to tackle his boyfriend with kisses and love. The soft strumming grows louder as he walks closer, he doesn’t really think anything of it. Steve likes putting on soft music as he studies, something about it calming him down.

He peeks his head, and gapes at the sight that he sees. Steve’s back is facing him, but he could still see him strumming Eddie’s old acoustic guitar.

Eddie stands and watches for a while, the sunlight streaming from the open window, the soft yellow dancing against Steve’s skin. He doesn’t know where Steve hid the camera, and he wishes he knew because he wants to keep this scene close to his heart, frame it for his bedside, print it for his wallet.

Steve doesn’t know how to play. Eddie knows this, they’ve been together now for almost three years, and he’s never seen Steve taken interest in playing. The melody he’s strumming is familiar, though Eddie can’t exactly pinpoint what song it is.

“Hey.” Eddie says, breaking the silence and making Steve jump a mile away from their bed.

“Oh my god!” He shrieks, the guitar instinctively turning into a weapon, “What the hell, Eddie?!”

“What the hell to you too. I didn’t know you could play.” Steve immediately sets the guitar down.

“I don’t know how to play.” Steve looks away, looking at anything but Eddie.

“Nuh-uh,” Eddie laughs, “Come on. How did you learn? Who taught you?”

Eddie fake gasps, “Steve Harrington, are you cheating on me?” He smiles right after, to let the other know that he’s joking, that Eddie knows that Steve will never do anything like that.

Steve glares at him, “Of course not!”

“Well tell me. What were you playing?”

Steve purses his lips at him, in the cute way he does when he’s contemplating about things. He sighs, plopping next to Eddie on the bed and taking back the guitar. They stare at each other for a while, as Eddie smiles encouragingly at his boyfriend.

Steve sighs, before finding the chords on the body, softly playing as he sings, “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you.”

Eddie breaks into the biggest smile, his jaw hurting and his teeth clenching together. Steve smiles back at him, his eyes soft and sparkling against the light. There’s nothing but pure love and adoration in his eyes, and Eddie prays that Steve Harrington will look at him like this for the rest of his life.

“Happy birthday, dear Eddie. Happy birthday to you.” Steve finishes his song, his hand reaching up to cup Eddie’s face.

“Was it that bad that you’re crying?” Steve pouts, wiping away his tears. Eddie didn’t even realize he was crying.

Eddie laughs wetly, “No, no. This is— this are happy tears, sweetheart.”

Steve sets aside the guitar, “You ruined the surprise, but that was supposed to be one of my birthday gifts for you. Max has been teaching me how to play for the last two months.”

Eddie stares at him, his eyes fleeting to Steve’s hands, calloused at the finger tips from learning a few simple chords just for him. He can’t even comprehend the fact that someone loves him that much to do that for him.

“I love it.” Eddie says, breathless with disbelief, “It’s the best gift I could ever gotten.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “It’s just one song.”

Eddie shakes his head, “No. I’m saying the truth. I love it, sweetheart. Thank you.”

Steve stares at him, his cheeks colored red from the praise. Eddie takes the guitar and puts it back on his lap, “Play it again.”

“You want me to sing happy birthday again?”

“Yes. Please. We’ll have to record it so I can listen to it whenever I want.”

Steve giggles, but he doesn’t say anything more as he starts strumming again, his voice soft as he sings the familiar words.

Eddie has always thought he wouldn’t live past 25. But right now, two days before he turns 25, the sun is warm on his skin, the soft strumming of the guitar filling the silence. Steve's smiling at him, the love of his life learning a few chords just for him.

Eddie's more than happy to be alive.

#throws and runs #throws and then goes to sleep GOODBYE #dae soft hours lol #steddie just staring at each other getting lost in each others eyes #GAH #steddie rants #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson fluff #steddie headcanons #steddie hc #steddie ficlet #daeheadcanons #dae writes

628 notes · View notes

rafesgoldrings · 11 months

Note

what about Rafe has a girlfriend but he's only with her because he wants her bestfriend *drumroll* the reader

Going to tweak this just a tad bit while still keeping the original concept, I hope you enjoy it! I’m also in such a sappy mood that it’s gross😭

She knows he wants you. She can see it in the way he glances at you when he thinks she’s not looking, the way he lights up when you’re around, the hugs that last a few seconds longer than they should. And she knows you like him, maybe she was too into him to notice at first, maybe you’d always had a crush on him but never told anyone, but she sees it now. Sees how your expression mirrors his when you see each other and act like nobody else is around, how you seem to know every little detail about him and all his favorite things, how you’re the one that always knows what’s going on in his life. And really it’s no surprise, the two of you had known each other longer than she knew you, everyone always talked about how it was going to be Y/N and Rafe. You would get married, start a family, and be the next big thing on the island. But the two of you seemed to be oblivious to the others feelings, insisting you were just friends if anyone questioned you, and she knew she had to do something. You were her best friend and while she did like Rafe, she knew the two of you were in love. That’s why she invited the both of you to the country club for lunch, without the other one knowing of course. When you arrived and saw Rafe walking towards the table, your best friend nowhere to be found, you were very confused.

Rafe on the other hand didn’t even notice that his girlfriend was missing because he was too busy staring at you, you had on a flowy mid length white dress with small flowers on it, hair pinned up in a half up half down style, the small diamond chain he bought you for your birthday one year when you were kids shining around your neck, and your usual summer sandals. You looked absolutely beautiful and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, which caused him to bump into several waiters and mumble a quick apology, until you had both reached the table. A note was folded up and placed on the center of the table, her signature on the front.

Dear Y/N and Rafe,

I know you both have feelings for each other. I know that you liked me Rafe (at least I like to think so), but you are in love with my best friend. It was hard to accept at first, but I understand now that it isn’t something I did or anything to do with me, but everything to do with the fact that we’re just not meant to be. I want you two to be happy together, enjoy this lunch and talk. I’ll find someone who looks at me the way he looks at you Y/N/N, someone who talks about me the same way you two talk about each other, someone who makes me the light of their world. And I only hope that one day i’ll be as lucky to find love like yours. Please know that i’m not mad, I love you both in different ways and want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy, the next time we see each other you best be official or i’m going to have to resort to other…methods…and they won’t be this nice!!

-Y/B/F

You stared down in shock before passing the note to Rafe, his eyes widening with each word before he put the paper back down on the table. You each took a seat and sat in silence for a few moments before Rafe spoke up. “She’s right you know? I got with her to try and take my mind off of you, but I always knew it was you. I’ve known since we were kids that you were the one I wanted to spend my life with” a soft smile on his face as he looked up at you, your eyes meeting his as you mirrored his expression.

“I did too, I told her to go for it. Convinced myself it was just a silly crush from knowing you so long, that it would go away. But then it never did, it just grew more and more intense when you got with her. It was torture watching you two all happy when all I wanted was for it to be me” you let out a small chuckle, shaking your head and taking a deep breath in. His hand grabbed yours, thumb gently stroking the back of your hand “Then be my girl, let’s stop wasting more time. Be my girlfriend and make me the happiest man for the first time, the second time will be because I will be marrying you sweetheart”

You couldn’t help the tears that welled up in your eyes and gently cascaded down your cheek as you nodded. Leaning over across the table to give him a kiss before pulling away, hands still laced together, and ordering a celebratory bottle of champagne. You would both talk to your best friend later, make sure this was really okay, but for now, you were going to enjoy your time together as boyfriend and girlfriend after all these years.

Tag List: @sweetestdesire @xyzstar @congratsloserr @madelynie @outerbankspov

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron fic #asks <3

423 notes · View notes

thearchercore · 3 months

Note

As a Lando fan, but first and foremost a Max and Charles fan, I’m quite disappointed in Lando. It’s true what they say, not everyone is happy when you are on top and your real friends show their true colours.

You are right, Max says what he thinks and never filters it. While Charles is a PR King (let’s be honest he’s more of a princess but that’s besides the point) but never once has he thrown shade at Max since they became friends (at least not that I know of)

Now, Daniel is not, has never been and will never be someone about him. Nothing against him, just vibes. But the fact that Max has held him so dear and close to his heart and he goes ahead and throws major shade at Max when Max was being nothing but honest at Vegas then makes sure to hang out with Lando during Winter break the other driver who is Max’s publicly known bestie on the grid (I mean the man even attends P’s birthday parties) anyway I digress. It’s just outright shady and childish.

Max is on another level and not everyone will understand that. True friendship should withstand such challenges. Of course anyone would be jealous and intimidated by such dominance and success but to deny the man like Peter denying Jesus infront of the crowd is just sad. I mean c’mon, did he mean it as a joke? Also was Daniel attempting humour? It’s possible but I can’t see someone like Charles making such weird comments. Even when they were beefing, Charles made it known that him and Max are okay and even though they are not best friends their relationship or hang out outside the paddock (back then things are different now) he still loved racing against Max because they understood each other and how they raced.

It’s actually petty for grown men to belittle their friend because of his success. But what do I know, the sport destroyed a childhood friendship (Nico + Lewis) Maybe only the realest and toughest friendships survive. Viva Charles and Max (whether you ship them or as friends) it’s real and they are always rooting for each other.

Sorry this got long.

yeah, i feel like the difference between daniel's current place in f1 and max's is playing a significant factor. again, max joined RBR when he was essentially still a teenager that was battling with puberty. daniel was there as the mature driver that max looked up to.

now, fast forward to 2024, daniel is fighting for his last chance at f1 after many unsuccessful team moves, and max is much more mature and has 3 WDC titles under his belt. that certainly changes things.

so i'm sure that if for whatever reason rbr kicks out checo and daniel jumps in, their dynamic would be different.

lando, on the other hand, is a different story. @tsarinablogs had a great post where someone suggested "I think Lando couldnt handle his car actually being competitive. Thats what weakened their friendship. It’s easy to be friends when you are driving a slow car, but then the car actually got competitive and he still couldnt beat Max."

again, the truth is -- f1 is a highly competitive environment and everyone will fight for themselves first without a doubt. that's what's happening with daniel and lando. daniel wants that red bull seat, lando wants to beat max. and that is going to be their priority over whatever friendly relationship they may have with max.

on the other hand, there are only 20 drivers in f1 so you have 20 other co-workers who share the same experiences as you. so you will always be closer to them than anyone else because no one would get you that well.

i think what works well currently between max and charles is that no matter how much media tried to put them against each other, they alway showed mutual respect to each other. charles never talked shit about max in press, and the overall vibe they have going on recently is that charles is happy for max's success, and is working hard to gain his own. also their actions speak a lot -- like charles' putting aside ferrari's questionable qatar strategy and rushing to congratulate max on his WDC. or max running to charles to apologise for his mistake in vegas.

their relationship doesn't seem to be definined by their racing results, and their joint racing history also makes them more equal in their own eyes than other drivers.

#charles leclerc #lestappen gate 2023 #lestappen #formula 1 #f1 #lestappen gate 2024

137 notes · View notes

moni-logues · 2 months

Text

The Surface

banner by @sailoryooons

Pairing: prince merman!Hoseok x sea witch!reader

Genre: fairytale AU/The Little Mermaid AU, smut

Summary: Prince Hoseok has only ever wanted one thing: to experience life on the Surface. You have only ever wanted Prince Hoseok. When he comes to you, desperate, claiming you are the only one who can help him, you decide to play along. You'll help him achieve his dream and maybe you'll satisfy your own dream, too.

Word count: 20k

Content: unprotected sex, oral sex (m. receiving), Hoseok has sex with someone but he thinks they're someone else, if you're incredibly squeamish, there may be some body/pain stuff that makes you go 😖, potentially a litt yandere-vibed

A/N: Happy my birthday eve to you, dear reader!!!!! This is my very first toe-dip into the world of fantasy/spn!! AND my first collab!!!!! Pleeeeaaassseeee read the warnings (and please!!!! let me know if I'm missing any or any are insufficient). I'm so excited; I struggled with plotting this fic and working out how to get it to do what I wanted and thid is actually v3.0 lmao BUT I'm really happy with it! And happy to be part of the Make Me Your Villain collab!!! Thanks to @daechwitatamic for beta-ng and yelling!!!!

Hoseok swam farther than he ever had before. Swam closer. He’d be inching forward and now he was close enough to be spotted; he knew that. He knew that that was too far, but he didn’t really care.

The first time he swam in this direction and saw the shadows of small boats cross over him, he’d bolted in a panic. Merpeople were not to be spotted by humans. Ever. So he’d raced away, not looking back.

But then he had the knowledge that humans sailed there. He knew that that stretch of water played host to life above its surface, too. They were little boats, not the huge ships he usually tailed. These were much smaller, with handfuls of humans sitting in them, pointing in the distance, holding little boxes up to their faces and lowering them again. Visible. Watchable. It was tantalising.

So he went back. Hung around and waited for a while. Did it again. Watched a boat sail over him and eventually drop anchor near the cove. Went back a third time. Saw the humans jump from the side of the boat into the water. Hung back.

The next time, he swam closer. And the time after that, closer still.

That particular day, he had time. Lots of it. There was nothing calling for his attention, nothing tying him to any place, so he edged closer and a little closer, until he could see so clearly their spindly legs kicking ineffectually through the water, their weird feet and tiny toes. He had never seen humans so close before. He wondered if anyone had. They were fascinating. They dived down and kicked back up, their limbs moving in the water to keep them afloat. They turned on to their backs, looking just like seals from below. They squealed and laughed and talked and Hoseok watched it all with rapt attention. What he wouldn’t have given to approach one. To have made contact. To have asked them all his questions.

He wished he had someone to tell. Someone who would receive the information with not even wonder—his hopes were not that high—but interest. He didn’t have anyone to share his discoveries with, his treasures, his excitement. No one else understood. Some people thought he was weird; others thought his interest in the human world was downright wrong.

But his excitement was palpable that day, floating so close to the humans, he could hear their voices. He could even just about make out their words. And then their speech took on a more urgent tone; there was more frantic splashing, some flailing of limbs. He looked around himself and rose until his head bobbed out of the water. He watched the humans spin, searching for something, pointing this way and that way, calling to each other, looking.

He wanted to help but he didn’t know how. He dipped back into the water and skirted around the edge of the group – still unseen—and then it hit him. He had been so focused on the humans that he hadn’t seen it.

The rip tide tugged him sideways with a vicious spinning force. He was lucky, because he lived in the sea and this was far from his first rip. It might have taken him unawares, but he was able to right himself and spiral through to the other side.

That was when he saw what they must have been looking for.

The rip had tossed him out on the other side of a sharp, rocky outcrop on the west side of the cove. It jutted far out into the sea, sheltering the shore from western winds, and he saw a human woman struggling to the surface.

Her limbs were slow and her face kept dipping under the waves until eventually, she just floated, barely moving at all, moving only with the rhythm of the waves. Hoseok watched with dread and fear curdling the excitement in his stomach. She was too still now, her face too low in the water. Something wasn’t right. There was something unnatural about the way she was lying there, suspended in the water.

Hoseok didn’t think before he acted. He kicked his fins and swam to her, wrapping one arm around her torso and hiking her upwards so her face was out of the water. He dragged her, swimming backwards, towards the shore. He was grateful there was a shore; the other side of the cove had nothing but sheer cliffs and sharp rocks.

He didn’t know what he would do when he reached the shingle beach, but being on land had to help, didn’t it? Land was where the humans belonged.

Hoseok dragged her as far out of the water as he could manage—which wasn’t very far because his tail churned the stones and wouldn’t propel him forwards, so he dragged himself, as well as this human woman, until only her legs were splashed by the waves.

He looked down at her, anxiety churning in his gut. How did humans die? Was she already dead? The thought was nauseating. He knew humans had hearts like merpeople did, so he pressed his hand against her chest and felt nothing. He pressed a hand against his own chest. Felt nothing. He pressed his fingers against the large artery he knew ran down his front and felt nothing. He pressed them to his neck and almost felt something, moved them around until he found the spot at which he could feel his blood pushing against them. He immediately transferred his fingers to the same position on the woman and felt the same thing.

He let out a heavy breath. Relief. At least she wasn’t dead.

But she also wasn’t awake.

“Hello?” he called lightly. “Uh, hello? Are you ok?”

She remained unmoved, but he could barely hear himself over the pounding of his frantic heart; maybe he was too quiet? Maybe merpeople couldn’t make noise outside of the water? He tried again but it elicited no response.

He watched her carefully, listening, training his ears towards her, tuning out the roar of the waves and the squawk of seagulls and the distant sound of voices. He concentrated hard, breathing carefully to slow his own heart, to quiet the thump of it against his ribs and the rush of blood through his veins. There was a wet gurgle as her chest rose and fell, coming from her mouth, but sounding from deep inside. Hoseok knew humans breathed through their mouths, not having gills of their own. So he knew she was breathing.

She was both alive and breathing. He sighed with relief. He could let his worry go and lean into his fascination.

He had never seen a human like this. Close enough to touch—he had touched her. Her hair was the colour of the sun, even wet through; the curls stuck to her skin and Hoseok dared to reach out and brush them from her face. As he took his hand back, he noticed he was shaking. Drops of water on her skin sparkled like gems, glinting in the daylight. The sun was hot—far hotter than he’d ever felt it in the water—and bright. The heat of it burnt away the water on her skin almost too quickly to notice. Hoseok didn’t think she looked all that different from a mermaid, not really. The legs made a difference, sure; she had no gills in her ribs; the webbing in her fingers was reduced to nothing, each digit separated down to the palm. But really, what difference did those things make?

He thought her a wonder. He thought her the most beautiful, fascinating thing he’d ever seen. Her rosebud mouth, lips open and plump. Her skin was smooth and dark; he looked stark next to her. Her torso was whole, one expanse of skin stretching around her back and ribs. Hoseok placed a hand to his gills, fingers playing along the edge; they were flapping uselessly in the dry air. He smoothed them down with his hand, imagined his torso like hers, uninterrupted.

He lay with his tail next to her legs. He tried to picture it split in two, tried to picture himself walking on two feet, upright. He wasn’t the longest merman, but how did that compare to humans? The woman by his side seemed long—were all other humans, too? He figured he would probably never know and the rarity of this moment, the precarity of it, dented his enthusiasm a little. But, he reminded himself, for the rest of his life, he would have this. This human woman, lying next to him, seen by him, touched by him. He wondered how many other merpeople had done that.

He’d heard the horror stories, of course, the kind that teachers tell students to scare them away from the surface. He had never believed them, not entirely. There were bad humans, sure, but there were bad merpeople, too. And looking down at this human, this woman, he knew she was good. He felt a fluttering in his chest that made his breathing hitch. Made him feel almost breathless.

He wished she would wake up and see him. That wasn’t allowed, of course. It was absolutely forbidden to make your presence as a merman known to anyone who lived on the surface. But, who had to know? Just this once. Just this once, Hoseok could have his dream come true, couldn’t he?

She blinked once, then twice, and rolled over to cough and splutter, and he panicked. The tranquillity of the moment was gone. He heard the sound of seawater hitting stone as she choked and it spilt from her lips. He didn’t know what that meant. He watched her back heave as she coughed and was gripped by an intense fear. He wasn’t bad; he didn’t break the rules; he didn’t have the stomach for it.

He was diving in the water before she had rolled back, before she had a chance to see him or even notice him. He had disappeared before he’d even made the decision to disappear. Maybe that was close enough. So much for his wishes to be seen. He just wasn’t brave enough.

Back in the water, he shuddered and realised he could breathe again. With his heart rate finally slowing, he swam towards home, his mind pre-occupied with daydreams about coming back to this shore, seeing more humans, learning some more; pre-occupied with the panic and relief and adrenalin of his last ten minutes.

Pre-occupied as he was, he didn’t see that his movements were being tracked. He didn’t see a royal aide, following at a distance, and then moving off towards the royal chambers when they made it back to court.

He didn’t see you either, though you could see him.

* * *

His mother came to see him the following day.

“Hoseok,” she began, in the quiet, stern voice that had always scared him as a child. “Do you think your father and I are stupid?”

He blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that and couldn’t see the reason behind it. That worried him. He was walking into a trap.

“No, of course not,” he answered, honestly.

“Then it will not surprise you if I say that we do know where it is you go in these waters.”

His blood turned to ice.

“We are all very well aware of your... interest in the surface. In humans and all their detritus.”

He opened his mouth to argue back but the expression on his mother’s face stopped him.

“We know you hunt out shipwrecks and follow boats along trade routes, searching the carcasses of their vessels for rubbish, hoping and waiting they might drop something valuable. We know how close you have got, Hoseok, to exposing yourself to the humans.”

He gulped. He knew he was in trouble. Probably a lot of trouble. He didn’t know what his punishment would be.

“We are not going to permit this any longer.”

That rankled. He was almost 21. An adult in any world. Permission? He found his voice.

“I wasn’t aware I needed permission to go anywhere.”

“You’re a prince, Hoseok, of course you need permission. And you no longer have it. So Sebastien will accompany you through your days for the time being, to ensure you do not go where you should not.”

“For the time being? How long is that exactly?”

His mother looked at him, impassive.

“For as long as your father and I tell him to.”

Then she swam away without bothering to say goodbye. Hoseok didn’t have any time to react before Sebastien was by his side.

“Good morning, my prince.”

Hoseok bit back a spiky retort and swam away, with Sebastien following at his fins. His mother couldn’t be serious. He was being chaperoned? It was an indignity. It was infantilising. It was entirely unnecessary. He flexed his hands into fists and out again, balling and stretching as he swam, as he carried on in his head the argument he wished he could have had with his mother. This would not do.

As he realised where he was swimming—with his new bodyguard—he stopped suddenly. He had been inadvertently leading Sebastien to his happy place, his treasure trove, the place where he kept all the so-called ‘human detritus’ he saved. He was sure his parents didn’t know about that and he didn’t want them finding out.

He swam away, ignoring Sebastien chatting idly at his side, and wondered just exactly what his parents knew. Had they seen him save that human woman? Had they seen how close he had come to being discovered? Is that what this was all about?

* * *

Hoseok looked miserable. Oh, he was smiling, and you were sure he was saying all the right things. But you knew. He was not enjoying his birthday party. There was nothing dazzling in his smile, no halo of light around his head. His laughter rang out, hollow and pitchy, not at all like the tumbling bells it usually was.

No, the prince was miserable. You were sure of it. You had noticed that he had been followed—was being followed—by one of the court’s highest-ranking aides; you saw him behind the prince at every turn, like a shadow, like a ghost. Maybe that was the problem.

You had been close as children, you and the prince, for a time. In that period when you were free, when society meant nothing to you, when prejudices and family feuds still hovered above your heads, out of reach. You had been friends and you felt it then, too, his brightness, his warmth. He didn’t care that the adults treated your family poorly; he did care that they treated you poorly. He didn’t know or care about what the adults said; neither did you. You were friends, the two of you, thick as thieves.

Then one day, all that hovered above you came tumbling down, pouring over you both like ice-water. It became more difficult then, to spend time together, to be friends. He never outright said it, broke up with you in a friend kind of way. You just ‘drifted apart’ because he was welcomed in where you were shunned; he was celebrated and everyone did their best to forget you ever existed.

You should have expected it. He was the prince, after all. And you were a sea witch. People said you were evil; the rumour had it that your whole family was. Matriarchal, and that was just the first problem. You had power. Your mother had had it. Your aunt. Their mother. The way you were told, it went back right to the very beginning. You were the latest in a very long line of very powerful witches.

It took you a long time to understand why that was used against you. You had power. Wasn’t that a good thing? You could do magic. You could achieve things no one else could. You could have made the entire sea a better place for everyone and everything living in it. But no one wanted your input; no one wanted to listen, to hear you. They wanted you to stay quiet. They wanted you to hide.

What boiled your blood was that you did. You stayed at the back, hid yourself away in a cave far from where the royal court lived: merpeople in coral towers and you, tangled in seaweed every time you so much as shook your head. You were older now and you knew full-well why they did it.

They were scared of you. They had always been scared of your family, but now, since the ‘tragic’ death of your mother, they were scared of you. Because you had a score to settle. Because you had a reason to hate them. You had vengeance on your mind.

Vengeance and Prince Hoseok.

Because no matter how much you hated it, no matter how much you didn’t want to want him, you did. You looked at him and your chest hurt with longing and your stomach roiled with hatred. How could it be that you could feel two things at once for the same person? You chose not to examine it these days. It had gone on too long and you were used to it. It felt like your natural state of being: hatred and love in equal measure. Fear and power.

No one had ever tested you. Not really. People came to you for silly little things like love potions and spells to make them smarter or charms to ward off hermit crabs from their gardens. No one wanted to see the full extent of your abilities. So you didn’t quite know what they were.

You toiled, testing yourself on little creatures, to see what you could do to them, how much you could transform them, how creative you could get. There had been a lot of failures at first, of course. So many. But then you started to succeed. And now you never failed. Everything you turned your hand to worked. Your mother had always said you were a natural and now you believed it, too.

You thought you could turn yourself into one of them if you wanted. Not that you did want. Never. Ever. You wouldn’t debase yourself, wouldn’t shame your ancestors with an attempt. But you could do it. That much you were confident of.

You were also confident of just how well you knew the prince. Better than he knew, you were sure. He probably didn’t realise quite what an open book he was to you. It was an open secret that he had a thing for life on the surface, but you saw so much more than that. He had never been able to hide from you: his enthusiasm, his wonder, his furtive glances around himself, the swift flick of his tail as he snuck between two large boulders, the fluidity and flexibility of his body the only things enabling him to sneak through. His little collection. Though ‘little’ wasn’t really the word for it, not anymore.

You had been to see it just once before. It was almost enough to impress you. His discoveries, his treasures, were displayed with such care, it almost touched you. These things, this tat, that he had found floating on the surface or buried in the seabed, he loved them. He treated them like something precious, not like the trash it so clearly was to the humans. It made your heart ache a little: his naivety, his innocence, his propensity for flights of fancy, his dreamy insistence on seeing the good in things, in people. In humans.

It was an open secret, this obsession of Hoseok’s, but it concerned his parents. Sure, he was only the youngest of seven sons—he wasn’t the heir—but he was still a prince. That made him valuable and important. It also meant he had to keep up appearances and it simply would not do to have a Prince of the Royal Court enamoured with... up there. So they had instructed one of their aides (a creeping, odious merman whom you avoided like the plague) to follow Hoseok around, to make sure he wasn’t getting himself into trouble.

Yes, you nodded to yourself, that was exactly what had happened.

Hoseok was getting sick of being followed around. It wasn’t even just that he couldn’t go to the surface; he couldn’t get a single minute of peace! Sebastien was always there and it was starting to grate quite uncomfortably.

He wasn’t enjoying the party and he was getting tired of pretending to enjoy it, so after taking a quick scan of the room, he turned tail and left. Sebastien followed, but Hoseok chose to ignore him.

“Leaving a party early?” you said lightly, as you caught him leaving the room. “Leaving your own party early? That’s not like you.”

His smile was a little tight when he flashed it your way.

“It’s only my party by technicality. No one will miss me.”

You merely raised your eyebrows slightly and raised one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.

“I notice that you are also leaving,” he countered.

“Ah, once the host leaves, everyone else is free to go.”

His brow wrinkled a little and he scoffed.

“Don’t call me the host.”

“Careful,” you joked, “Sebastien here might tell your parents you’re being ungrateful. Look at all this opulence they prepared for you.”

He was about to spit something not entirely kind back at you before he realised that you were taking the piss. He rolled his eyes inwardly at himself. Of course you didn’t care. You never went in for this stuff anyway. He was surprised you had even shown up.

“I am being ungrateful. I would like them to stop looking out for me, stop doing things for me, stop-” he said, coming to such a sudden halt that Sebastien crashed into the back of him, “having me chaperoned like a child just because I like to swim a little farther than others.”

“I’m not sure it’s the distance they’re worried about.”

“Whatever. They just don’t get it. They think it’s dangerous.”

“What is?”

“The surface. Humanity. They think my collecting scraps from the seabed is somehow going to threaten all undersea life, trigger an apocalypse or something.”

“Ah.”

“They just don’t get it. They don’t get it. It’s not like I’m going to go up there and act like I’m human-”

“No? You could.”

He scoffed.

“Oh yeah, just go and flop around on the beach with my tail and my gills and everything. Great idea.”

“... You know I’m a fucking witch, right? I literally have the technology.”

Hoseok stopped suddenly again, looking at you, a little aghast, a little trepidatious. Then he laughed.

“Yeah, sure, one human coming right up!”

You laughed along with him, letting the subject drop, letting it be a joke. It had to be a joke with Sebastien listening in. But you were serious and you needed Hoseok to understand that you could do it. If he asked.

* * *

You thought about it more in the following days, as you watched the prince and his tormentor float around in the water. Hoseok couldn’t even blink without Sebastien there to watch him. You could feel his frustration, his impatience; you could see the dullness diminishing his shine; you could see the time it took for his lips to stretch into his signature heart-shaped smile expand—sometimes they barely made it at all. Was it the annoyance and inconvenience of having a chaperone in itself, or was he pining for a little adventure? Itching for a treasure hunt, fingers twitching to dig through sand and find something broken and useless to take back to his cave of wonders?

The whole sea knew. The prince was being monitored. The prince was being kept on a lead. A short one. There were whispers and gossip and speculation. The worst of these rumours was the one that told you his parents were doing this to get him ready for marriage. That he had been betrothed to a princess in the Caspian sea since before he had even existed and now they had both come of age, the marriage negotiations could begin in earnest.

That would not do. You could not have that.

Your own fingers were twitching; you were as frustrated as the prince, trying to work out a way to expedite this whole thing, to get things moving.

Someone’s hand would have to be forced, you realised. But whose? And to do what?

It hit you, quite suddenly, as you were drifting off to sleep one night. You had been picturing Hoseok amongst all his ‘objet d’art’: his happy face, his preening and polishing, his voice ringing out in a sweet, little tune—the one you liked to catch in your shells and store for later. It was obvious.

With each day that passed, the prince’s frustration grew. As did his misery and his little, daydreamy desires to experience life on the surface. With each day that passed, his parents were obliviously telling themselves that Hoseok was forgetting about it. He was integrating better with his peers, no longer always off on his own adventure; he was finally getting over this little ‘phase’.

It, actually, you thought to yourself as you caught the fleeting idea with a snatched hand, would work out quite nicely after all. You just had to be careful about tipping the scale.

Sebastien wasn’t stupid (you couldn’t get to his position if you were), but he wasn’t exactly sharp. You engaged him in a little idle chat while the prince was dining with his family. Commented on the prince’s interest in life ex-marina. Sebastien had responded a little too eagerly, sharing a little too much (not that he knew he was doing it—not sharp) so it was very easy for you to drop in that you had noticed the prince hadn’t been visiting his little shrine much recently. Sebastien played off his reaction so terribly that, even had you not been so perspicacious, it would have been clear he was bluffing, that you knew far more than he did and he was embarrassed by it. You shrugged, as if the conversation meant nothing to you, and glided away, certain that the seed had been planted.

All you had to do now was wait for it to sprout.

It took even less time than you expected. The sea over the next couple of days was a flurry of anxious activity. No official word had gone out, but something was happening and everyone knew it. Aides were everywhere, in every corner, under every rock, in every reef. The king and queen had an awful lot of staff at their disposal, so it wasn’t long before one of them turned up something very interesting indeed.

It was even quicker that the King stormed down to the prince’s little cave of wonders to give Hoseok what for.

You hung back and watched. Watched Hoseok’s face as it moved from dismay to anger, to fury. You had never heard him angry like that. It was thrilling. It was exciting. It was, you hated to admit it, sexy. He swam forward and you heard him confront his parents, heard his outrage.

But how his father roared. How he hovered above Hoseok, his youngest child, with a face like thunder. How his shouting rippled through the water, carrying it farther than you were sure he’d have wanted.

Hoseok put up a good fight, but he had no power. He wasn’t the heir; he had no leverage, not really. So, his father took his trident and destroyed everything. Even the very cave itself. It was rubble by the time he turned his back on his son and swam away. It was sand. Hoseok was left staring at what used to be his most prized possessions, his secret joy.

It almost hurt when you saw his face, his distress and despair. You watched him sink to the seabed and sob, then you turned around and swam away. You didn’t want to watch that. You didn’t need to. You just had to hope that it worked like you intended.

You slunk back to your cave—your presence having never been noticed—and waited for the prince to come to you.

Hoseok knew they were just things. He knew they were things most people would consider rubbish, garbage, trash, waste. But they weren’t rubbish to him. They were prizes. They were trophies. They were secrets. They were hints of another life, another way of living. They were like the key to a code. If he collected enough, maybe he would understand what life on the surface was like. Maybe once he had enough human things, he would be able to experience Personhood by proxy.

He had always known he would never go there. Could never go there. It just wasn’t done. Not even for a prince. Especially not for a prince. But his parents couldn’t order him to stop dreaming. So he dreamt and he collected and he treasured. He knew no one approved of what they called his ‘obsession’ with the surface. He didn’t care. They didn’t understand. They didn’t see what he could. They were so entrenched in their own, bigoted ideas that they couldn’t open their minds for a second to the possibility that maybe humans weren’t so bad. Maybe they had their problems, but they also had their wonders.

Even outside of his personal curiosity, he had always thought that some sort of treaty with the humans would be advantageous. They were lucky, in his sea, that the water was kept mostly clear, that oil spills only reached them as news. Their unfavourable interactions with humans were limited, but Hoseok knew that wasn’t the case elsewhere. He thought, if they could communicate with them, that maybe agreements could be reached. A relationship with the world on the surface could be mutually beneficial.

No one else saw it that way.

He sat on the sand and wept, cried, sobbed, for his secret little things that were no more. No longer secret and no longer there. He scooped up fragments of them in his hand and let them drift back down. He sifted through rocks and pebbles and sand to see if anything had been left intact, if anything was salvageable. But his father was thorough. And powerful. And there was nothing left.

* * *

The flurry of activity stopped and was replaced by an awkward tension. No one had seen the prince since the argument with the king. No one dared approach either king or queen, not even the other princes. People moved so slowly through the water, as if they were scared to cause too much of a ripple. The rhythm of everything had been upset.

For no one more than the prince. He lay on the sand next to what used to be his happy place for hours, until the sea grew dark and he should have been back at home with his family. The very thought made him sick. He couldn’t. Wouldn’t. The thought of seeing his parents again made bile rise in his throat. His blood boiled with an anguished kind of anger he had never experienced before.

Once he had stopped crying, he spent some time staring around in disbelief. He couldn’t believe that all his things were gone, but he also couldn’t believe that his father had done it. The royal family was a Happy Family, officially, but they were also usually happy in actual fact. Arguments were few. Discord uncommon. There had been little cause for friction amongst them in his life. He wasn’t used to this. He and his brothers fought as kids, but never seriously; no one ever tried to rebel in any meaningful kind of way. It was a peaceful kingdom and that peace started at the very top.

Or so it had been. Even that had been destroyed now. Peace was the very last thing on the prince’s mind. He was torn between his anger and his despair. He wanted to hurt his father, very badly. He wanted to show his father that he wouldn’t let this stop him, that not even the King could break him. He knew he was right about humans, about humanity. He would show him. He also wanted, with a kind of frenzied desperation, to set off over the oceans and retrieve a new artefact for each and every one that he’d just lost.

As time passed and the sun disappeared from overhead, his whirring mind, his racing heart, began to slow and a tiny spark of hope burst in him. There was a way, he had realised. Or, he thought there might be a way. There was a possibility. There might be a possibility. If anyone would have the answer, it would be you.

He called your name and it roused you from a mid-morning nap. You sauntered to the cave mouth and your face pulled into surprise at the sight of him.

“Prince Hoseok, what are you doing here?”

He looked a little hesitant, peering behind you at the darkness of the cave, wondering what lay back there, if all the rumours were true. He knew you. You had been close at one point. He knew you so this was fine. He could trust you; he knew he could. You weren’t going to hurt him. You weren’t like they said. Well, in one way, he hoped you were; he hoped you were every bit as powerful as people said because, lord knew, he was going to need some powerful magic. Powerful magic the likes of which could topple the royal family, people said. What care did he have for the royal family now?

But, the evil part... He hoped that wasn’t true. You’d never given him cause to believe so before.

Still, waiting at the entrance to your home (your ‘lair’ as some called it and Hoseok was never sure if they were joking or not), he felt timid. Small. Not like a royal prince, but like a supplicant. Which, really, he supposed, he was.

“I’m here to ask you to do something for me.”

You couldn’t deny your intrigue. You gestured for him to follow you inside.

He did so slowly, his eyes darting around at all your shelves, full of stuff, fuller even than his own treasure trove had been. He couldn’t imagine what might be in all the containers, what secrets or tonics or poisons they might be holding. He had no idea what it was you did, really. You were the Sea Witch and that was bad enough for most people to never ask anything more... Until they needed you, of course. Hoseok had never needed you, not until now, so he had never paid your work much attention. You flew under the radar for the most part, which was entirely by design.

“Ok,” you said, as you perched yourself on a soft bed of anemones that Hoseok didn’t dare touch. “What can I do for you?”

He took a deep breath, a steeling breath.

“I want to be human.”

You pretended to be surprised, but that was exactly what you had been hoping for. Only an idiot would have been surprised by his request, especially given what had just happened.

“Human, huh? Finally pulling the trigger?”

He looked reluctant to say any more. You raised one eyebrow at him and held his gaze. He looked away.

“My parents don’t understand a thing. They don’t know anything about humans. I want to know. I have to know. They-... My parents can’t control me.”

You shrugged and nodded and caught the look of surprise on Hoseok’s face as you turned to gather some ingredients from the other side of the cave. He hadn’t thought it would be that easy.

It wouldn’t be.

You gathered the necessary items and tipped first one, then another, into the large conch you used for mixing spells.

“You... you can do it?” he asked and you chose not to be offended by the question.

“Of course I can.”

“You... will do it?”

“I will.”

The relieved smile on his face could have lit your cave for weeks. His teeth shone and his eyes sparkled as he laughed and clapped his hands. Victory.

“Thank you! I don’t know how I can repay you.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, sunshine. There are conditions to all this, you know.”

His face settled back into seriousness, his brow knitting above his eyes. He nodded fervently.

“Yes, of course. I understand. What do I need to do?”

You paused, leaning one hand on the edge of your giant shell and looked at him with a firm, fixed stare.

“You get three days,” you told him. “Three days as a human. You’ll be human before lunch, so noon on the third day will see you turning back as you are now.”

“Oh.”

His disappointment was palpable, but that worked to your advantage, too. You forced a light chuckle.

“I’m good, Hoseok, but I’m not that good.”

(You were, in fact, that good, but he didn’t need to know that).

“Of course! Yes, three days. That’s great.”

“There is a way you can stay longer than that, but it’s not in my power.”

“What does that mean?”

You pushed off the ledge and rounded the basin, coming to a stop in front of him. You didn’t miss the two inches that he scooted backwards away from you. At a different time, under different circumstances, this might have offended you, but you had a reputation; you could hardly blame him for his timidity. He had never seen you do anything like this before.

“You have to put down roots.”

“Right... What does that mean?”

“You have to find a human woman and plant a seed.”

Hoseok continued to look at you blankly, until you rolled your eyes.

“Fornicate. Copulate. Mate. Breed. Fuck.”

His eyebrows shot towards his hairline.

“Oh... Within three days?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No!” His answer was too quick and his blushes beetroot. He cleared his throat. “No, it’s fine, but... You said plant a seed. You mean... a child?”

“Mhmm.”

He blinked, his mind reeling. You gave him a second to process.

“How do I guarantee that? It has to be a child? There has to be... it has to...?”

You nodded.

“If you want to stay up there, you need some connection to it. You need a tether. Just how it works.”

“Oh, right...”

He was nodding, but he wasn’t looking at you. You could see his eyes were far away; he was thinking.

He was worrying. Would three days be enough? And bringing a child into this? Could he? Doubt was beginning to creep in at the sides, but he couldn’t let it. He had to see this through. It felt like his only chance. And you’d already said yes. You could do it. He could almost taste it, he was so close. He had to keep going. He could deal with the seed problem later; he could hardly think about putting down roots when he didn’t even have legs to stand on. First things first and the first thing was becoming a human.

“There’s also something else I need from you,” you told him.

“Anything.”

“I just need a little piece of you. In order to make this work, I need a little tether to you.”

“You need to tether to me? But doesn’t that keep me tied here?”

You liked it when they asked questions. You smiled, benignly, but your eyes glinted wickedly.

“It keeps you tethered to me, the one with the magic? The one who’s transforming you? We can skip that step if you like, but then the spell will do absolutely nothing.”

“Oh.”

He blinked and then nodded.

“Ok, makes sense. Yeah, ok, what do you need?”

“Come here.”

You beckoned him to your side and he obeyed quietly. You took his hand in yours and plunged it into the shell; then you placed your other hand on his chest.

“Hold still; this won’t hurt.”

“What are you taking?”

“Just a little bit of soul.”

He flinched and you had to tighten your fingers around his wrist to keep it there.

“Relax, you won’t even notice it missing. And keep still, I need to concentrate.”

You closed your eyes and tapped lightly on his chest with your fingers, looking for a tap. Once you found the spot, you dug your finger in a little harder, focused hard and turned it on. You channelled it through Hoseok’s arm and tipped it into the shell through his fingers.

You were right: it didn’t hurt. He felt a weird pulling sensation in his chest and then it dragged down his arm; it was a little uncomfortable, certainly something he’d never felt before, but it didn’t hurt exactly. He wanted to look and see what his soul looked like, pouring out, but he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes.

His soul was sweet like nectar and it shimmered as it settled atop the other ingredients. You could feel its pulse, strong in Hoseok’s heart, its rhythm airy and delicate with a stable bass. You liked it. You liked it a lot. You could feel your own shimmer in response to it; you could feel your heart flutter when you let a little of him inside it. You bit your lip to stop a smile. Once you had what you needed for the spell, you siphoned off just a little extra for yourself. Nothing he would notice – you were always careful about that.

You held him there a minute longer, just absorbing, marinating a little. Sometimes this was the worst part of the job. Some people’s souls were vile, horrid, dark, acrid, smoking things; the taste they left in your mouth wouldn’t shift for days. This, though, was delectable. If you’d had another plan in mind, you might have taken more, maybe even all of it; you weren’t sure how you managed to stop yourself.

You shouldn’t have been surprised by its sweetness. It was Hoseok. He was like that. Of course his soul would be pure as sunlight itself. It was the lightest soul you’d ever held. Almost light enough to make you feel bad for doing all this.

Almost.

“Ok,” you began, letting him go and creating a little more space between you. “We’re done.”

Hoseok opened his eyes and looked down at his tail.

“We are?”

You laughed, not unkindly.

“Yes. You might want to start swimming while I finish this off. Surface is a long way up from here.”

“Oh. But... it’ll work? I’ll be...-”

“It’ll work. Trust me. And take this.”

You thrust a little package, wrapped in fisherman’s netting, into his hands.

“Now go on. Get.”

He nodded, first a little uncertainly, but, as if he was convincing himself, each bob of his head grew surer until he was turning around and swimming straight out of your cave and up, up, up.

You gave everything in the shell a swirl, a mix, let it coalesce, then you placed your hands on the bottom and forced heat through them, so much heat that the concoction boiled, the sea water steaming around you. It bubbled and it boiled until there was nothing left in the shell but a pearl. You picked up this pearl and placed it into a clam. You shut the clam over a cord and tied it around your neck. You were going to want to keep this one close.

Hoseok was swimming so hard he barely noticed it at first. Then his tail was tingling. Then it began to hurt. Hurt enough to slow him down, to almost stop him completely. It was a wrenching, tearing, searing kind of pain that made him cry out, that made dark spots dance in front of his eyes and his head feel light. He couldn’t quite tell if his tail was moving or not; there was blinding pain and very little else, but he knew he was getting close to the surface. He couldn’t stop now.

In the space of three kicks, his tail became two, and Hoseok was overwhelmed by the agony of saltwater in his wounds. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t look, couldn’t do anything but try not to die. Try not to drown. He kept kicking, kept pulling with his arms, but his fingers were no longer webbed and they didn’t grab the water like before.

Swimming as a human, it turned out, was every bit as inefficient as it looked. He tried to move his legs in tandem, to kick and flick like he did with his tail but they wouldn’t cooperate; they couldn’t bend like his tail could, didn’t have the flexibility. Every movement sent a fresh surge of pain racing through him and he was finding it hard to breathe through it.

And then he stopped being able to breathe at all. He clutched at his ribs with one hand, expecting to feel his gills, but there was nothing. He opened his mouth to gasp and his throat was full of salt water in a way that felt wrong, uncomfortable, painful. In a way that made him panic. His lungs were burning, his throat was burning, his legs were burning; everything, everything, felt like it was on fire.

His heart was humming, beating so fast it vibrated against his ribs. He couldn’t think clearly, coherently, at all. It was all just a screaming panic, shouting and squealing and howling for him to get out, get out, get out of the water.

When he finally broke clear of the sea’s surface, he choked and gasped and coughed up water. It stung in his eyes and the taste of salt was so strong, it made him gag. He looked about himself to find the nearest shore and saw none in sight. He knew where he was; he saw the sea, his underwater kingdom, in his mind and he knew how to find the nearest shore. He just had to get there.

He dragged himself out of the waves, spent. There wasn’t a single muscle in his body that wasn’t crying out; he had never found swimming difficult before. It had always been as easy as breathing, but that, too, was difficult as a human. He swallowed seawater that made him sick, accidentally breathed it in and choked, found his breathing growing laboured and heavy when he was still miles from shore.

He lay on the shingle beach for a while, waiting to feel something other than pain. Pain and heaviness. Every movement was an effort. Every movement took active thought, especially his legs. He pushed himself into a sitting position and turned his attention to the package you gave him. He unwrapped it and unfolded fabrics—soaked through, of course. Hoseok had seen people wear clothes in books before but he’d never seen any in real life. He wondered where on earth you got them from. He briefly wondered if he wanted to know.

And despite everything: the pain, the exhaustion, the fear, the dread that was starting to settle in his stomach as the adrenalin faded, Hoseok was excited. He had human garments in his hands. They were his and he was about to wear them. He was human.

Human.

The awe and wonder didn’t last long. The friction of the fabric against his skin was almost unbearable. Was his skin sensitive or were the fabrics rough? He couldn’t tell but he could feel each tiny swish, each brush against him as he moved, with every swing of his arm and every step of his feet. It felt like the top layer of his skin was being slowly rubbed away, his soft, supple skin becoming red and raw and oh so sensitive.

The steps hurt, too. The shingle under his feet felt almost pleasant compared to the torching pain he felt in his legs. Like they were being cut open every time, like he was splitting his tail over and over and over again, the torture wouldn’t end.

He felt so heavy. Leaden. Like he barely had the energy to lift his feet at all. He put this down to the swim, the physical trauma, the lack of sleep he’d had that night. But he’d never felt the weight of his body so heavily before. In the water, he floated. The water kept him buoyed; the water supported him, carried him; he moved through it like he weighed nothing at all. On land, he felt no support. On the contrary, he felt as if the air itself were pushing him down, keeping him stuck to the ground, as if it didn’t want him to move anywhere.

It wasn’t at all like he had expected. He wished you had warned him about the pain. He wished he had known a little more before walking into this – literally walking! He was walking! On two feet! It was agony.

Trying to keep his head straight, he knew the first thing he should do was find food. He’d swum so far, he needed something. His stomach was gurgling in an angry, acidic roil that made him feel faint (or maybe that was the pain or the exertion or the atmosphere or or or). He was lucky that this beach was narrow and the town close. The shingle quickly gave way to grass, which was only slightly soothing on Hoseok’s feet, and then the grass gave way to paving.

He followed the path in the only direction it went and it wasn’t long before he found people. Humans. So many of them. He stood, stock still, watching them. It was overwhelming. The sights and sounds and smells of them. There was food grilling, and children laughing, and market hawkers soliciting, and Hoseok had no idea which way to turn. He could barely think at all. He needed-

He didn’t know what. A rest. A break. To sit down? He walked to the nearest chair – a metal frame with metal seat, next to a metal table – and sat; the chair scraped backwards slightly and the scratch of it on the ground brought a man out from the cafe the chair was sitting in front of.

“Hey, you can’t sit there!” the man called, looking none too happy. “Customers only! Those chairs are for customers only!”

“Oh, oh ok,” Hoseok spluttered. “I can be a customer. I can buy, uh-”

“No! We’re not open yet! No service!”

Hoseok thought then that it should be fine for him to sit down if they weren’t open, if there were no customers yet, but the man continued to shout, to shoo him off, so Hoseok stood and moved away. He would just have to try again a little further down the road.

That cafe might not have been open, but there were market stalls with edible wares already cooked and out for consumption. He took a skewer proffered by a weathered old lady and ate it gratefully, even though it was dry and hard to chew. She then held her hand out expectantly and it was at that moment, Hoseok realised he had nothing to trade. What could he offer? He considered the neat, net package that you had provided his clothes in and brought it out of his pocket. He tried to hand it over but the woman started cursing at him in a language he didn’t understand. He backed away from her aggression and this was clearly the wrong move. She grabbed a large metal spoon and came around the side of her table, raising it above her head.

Hoseok ran. He hadn’t known he could run. Would have claimed not to be able to if you’d asked him to at that moment, but the panic set him going and his feet stomped, painful step after painful step, until he was, once more, breathing heavy and laboured, a sharp pain between his ribs stabbing him with every inhale.

This was going to be harder than he thought.

He eventually sat at the side of the road, wondering how he was supposed to navigate this world he clearly knew nothing about. He had been arrogant in the sea. He thought he knew everything there was to know about humans. He had learnt about their culture, he thought; he had studied their ways of life, he thought. It was nothing compared to the real experience of being here. Nothing was how he expected. He was woefully unprepared.

Tears pricked in his eyes and he tried to keep them at bay because he had wanted this. He had asked for it. And you had done it for him. Hoseok realised with a shock just exactly what position this had put you in. The prince was nowhere to be found. He hadn’t told anyone what he was doing. The only person who knew was you. If they found that out, lord knew what kind of trouble you’d be in. They’d have your head if they thought you had brought him to any harm.

But you’d been willing. Supportive even. So he had to make this work. He had to make it worth it. For him. For you. He would make it work and he would return to the sea to explain everything: to show what he had achieved on the surface, to prove to everyone that humans weren’t like they all said. To prove that you had been the truest, kindest and most loyal friend he had. That you had given him all of it. That you weren’t like they all said, either.

He blew out a deep breath. There was a lot riding on this.

He knew he would eventually need somewhere to sleep, somewhere safe. He walked back towards the centre of the market and found a nice-looking woman selling necklaces.

“Excuse me,” he began, warily. “I need somewhere to stay.”

Her friendly smile faltered a little, frozen on her face as she tried to parse his words.

“Ok?” she finally returned.

“Can you tell me where I can... Is there somewhere I can sleep?”

“Uh,” she said, her face twisting into a kind of confusion that Hoseok felt he was being judged by. “I mean, you can get a hotel or something?”

“Ok, where do I get one?”

The woman looked around her, to see if anyone else was really hearing this. She shrugged.

“There are kind of a lot around. Take your pick. There’s one right there.”

She pointed over Hoseok’s shoulder at a white, stone building, and Hoseok’s smile was all the bigger for the relief he felt.

“Thank you!” he called, already making his way towards the hotel.

But things continued to be difficult. He didn’t have a ‘credit card’ for the hotel staff to ‘hold’. He didn’t know what that meant. They told him he couldn’t have a room if he had no method of payment. He tried to offer something else; he was a good swimmer, he said; he could dive for pearls? The two staff behind the reception desk gave each other the same look the woman on the stall had given him. They explained that they only took cash or credit. He didn’t have either of those two things.

He left the building and sat by the road, because there was nothing else he could do.

He tried so hard not to let doubt creep in, not to feel despair, not to start desperately wishing he had thought about this a little longer. He tried to remember things he’d learnt about the human world – things that would help him. But it was already so different here from what he had expected.

The stories he had grown up hearing about human interactions with his kind were awful; humans were brutal and cruel and hunted merpeople for sport. That kind of thing. But he thought they were kind to each other. They had a society. They governed each other: elected officials who were entrusted with their cities and countries. They made art and sang songs and raised animals whom they kept for companionship, rather than labour. Humans were resilient and tough and brave, social creatures. They came together in crisis and performed heroic feats to help others out of danger. Those were the humans he had imagined.

The ones he had experienced so far were not like that at all. Maybe they knew, he thought; maybe they could tell already somehow that he wasn’t one of them. He was different. He hadn’t even been a human for a day yet. Maybe he was doing things wrong. He was sure he wasn’t walking right—the pain made it impossible. He had shown up from the beach in clothes that had barely dried, were caked in salt. His hair was stiff and tangled with it, too. His face felt tight and rough. Maybe they were right to mistrust him.

But how could he fix it? What could he do?

He couldn’t stay there, sitting on the ground. People walking past were looking at him; it made him nervous. No one had been able to show him any generosity or kindness and the darkness of night was starting to cover everything. There were artificial lights hanging from every door, a warm glow from every window that served only to bathe the shadows in a dim, greyish light. Nothing was black, as it was in the deep ocean, but it was all muted, hard to make out, indeterminate. Scarier.

He had to get out of sight. He had to find somewhere safe that he could stay for the night. That was the most important thing.

As hot as it had been when he first arrived on the surface, he could feel the chill now. There was something naked about being out in the air, with no water surrounding him, enveloping him. Even through the fabric of his clothes (which still scored his skin with every movement), he felt the air move, felt it stiffen his skin and raise the downy hairs there. He needed shelter. He needed to be far away from people, for now. He needed to be sure that, if what the merpeople said was true, he would not come to harm this night.

It was with a heavy, sinking heart that he made his way back to the beach. He fell upon the shingle and didn’t even have the energy to cry out, to sob like he wanted to. He had never experienced pain or exhaustion like this. He had never felt so out of place—not just in this world, but in this body. Did all humans feel like this? Heavy and sore and stiff, with the world pushing down on you? His legs were still screaming; they were as unblemished and unmarked as they had been when he’d first checked them twelve hours ago, but the pain was so convincing, he thought he would look down and see his tail, mutilated, bloody, split in two just like he’d asked.

He made his way very slowly, very carefully, to the end of the beach and the edge of the shore. With the cliffside to his right, there was protection from wind, at least, and it was deserted of people. He shuffled forward and sat with his legs straight out, letting the waves wash over his feet.

That was when he cried. He cried with abandon, without thought, without hope, with an aching, broken heart. He couldn’t quite believe that it was happening this way, that all of his dreams were crumbling in front of his eyes. He wouldn’t believe it; there was good in this world and he was determined to find it, but he had never felt so out of his depth. He had no idea what to do. He had no one, nowhere, nothing.

He looked at the waves as they splashed over his feet (feet!) and he imagined sinking into them, imagined them encroaching further and further onto the shore until he was swallowed up by them, swimming, drowning. Could he drown? He was human now and humans could drown, but he was really a mermaid... Would the magic revert? He remembered what you had said about keeping a tether to him; would you know if he were drowning? Could you see him now, pathetic and weeping?

You could. With his pearl at the bottom of your basin, you could conjure up his image and watch his drama play out in the rippling water.

But the sight didn’t bring you much joy. You worried that you had overestimated him, overestimated the humans. You had spent time on the surface but it was still a foreign world; you didn’t know everything. Maybe you should have prepared him a little more, lent him a little of your human currency. You had expected his grace and charm to carry him at least through the first night but he was a different person now. Well, he was a person, not a merman anymore. He was literally out of his element. A fish out of water.

You chuckled to yourself at that one. Then you frowned and rested your chin on your palm, pondering ways that you could make this work if he couldn’t do it on his own. You fingered the clamshell on your necklace and an idea started to form.

It could work. It wasn’t how you had envisaged this whole thing going but... It could work.

With a sigh, you placed the pearl safely back in its clam and floated off to your inventory: a powder there, some shellfish here, gathering together everything needed for yet another expensive spell.

If you need something doing, you thought to yourself ruefully, you’ve got to do it yourself.

* * *

Hoseok was starting to shiver on the shore—something that he had never experienced before and something he would be quite happy to not experience again. The way his muscles trembled and his skin hurt, still raw from the fabric, but bumpy now with goosebumps that made the friction all the worse. He took his feet out of the water and asked himself forlornly what on earth he should do, but he had no answer.

He scanned the horizon out to sea and saw nothing but washed-out darkness looking back at him. He scanned the beach and the land and his attention was caught by a light, wobbling in the darkness and growing larger. It was only when the person holding the lantern stepped foot on the beach that he could see there was a person behind it at all. If he had been less tired, less sad, less hungry, he might have worried, or he might have rallied and put his best foot (foot!) forward, or he might have hidden. But he could do none of those things. He sat and watched a young woman approach.

“Goodness, are you alright?” she asked, when he was close enough to see her form but not her face.

She wore the same thin shoes that a lot of people in the town had been wearing, barely covering her feet, and long, flowing fabric danced on the shingle above them. He could just about make out her light hair and her petite height, but the rest of her remained a mystery.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Hoseok replied, knowing that he was lying but not knowing if she would see that.

“Are you sure?” she queried. “It’s not safe to be out on the beach alone at night like this. I saw you sitting here and I thought you might be in trouble.”

A glimmer of hope flicked in Hoseok’s heart. Could it finally be: a human who was like he had always dreamt humans would be? Kind? Generous? Could he tell her? Could he share his woes? Would she ease his mind? Was this what he had been waiting for?

He decided he had no choice because his only other options were to drown in the sea or starve on this beach.

“I am in trouble,” he began. “I have nowhere to stay, no food, no money. I have nothing. I don’t know what to do.”

He tried to stop his voice cracking, but it cracked of its own volition. He didn’t want to be pitied; he just needed to be helped. But beggars can’t be choosers, he reminded himself.

“None at all?”

You took a couple of steps towards him, still not close enough that he could see your features clearly, but enough to suggest trust, to suggest comfort.

He shook his head in return.

“You should come with me.”

You could see the surprise on his face, the hope that lit it, the worry that creased his brow.

“Just for tonight,” you continued. “I can give you a bed so you can rest. You really shouldn’t stay out here all night.”

Hoseok rose to his feet, biting hard on his bottom lip to stop himself crying out as the pain surged once more.

“It’s not far,” you said, before turning back the way you had come.

Hoseok followed your lantern, back up the beach, down the path, and into the town. You led him into a narrow alley with a single door at the end. It was this door that you opened with a quiet creak, then you led him inside and up a single flight of steps.

“It’s not much,” you said, attempting to sound somewhat apologetic as you opened the door to the apartment.

It was sparsely decorated and the linens were grey in a way that suggested they hadn’t always been. The lightbulb in the ceiling was naked and dim. The plant on the windowsill looked crisp and parched.

You lived comfortably underwater, despite your status as social pariah, because people wanted your little potions and spells and you could charge through the nose for them. On land, it was more difficult. Humans weren’t interested in trading for things; they wanted cash and nothing but. That made it more difficult to be comfortable here. But you had shelter and food and that was more than the prince had.

Hoseok was nervous. He hadn’t known what to expect but somehow, this wasn’t it. He had heard of the way humans warred with one another, the way they oppressed and exploited other classes, the way most of them starved whilst the few indulged. This was so much more mundane. Nondescript. Boring. Homely.

He took a look at the woman now that he could see her properly in the cold light of the apartment. She was beautiful. Not unlike the woman he had rescued from the beach, he realised. Dark skin that somehow shimmered, golden hair that almost looked like a halo with the way it reflected light. Her eyes were dark, too, deep and rich and warm. She felt familiar to him, somehow, but he couldn’t pinpoint why. He knew she wasn’t the same woman from the beach, not quite, but there was something about her that he felt he knew, had seen before. It comforted him, quieted his nerves a little.

“I don’t have much to offer,” you interrupted his thoughts with a shy chuckle. “But it’s better than sleeping outside.”

“This is wonderful. I can’t thank you enough for doing this for me. It has been a difficult day and you are the first person who’s shown me any kindness. I don’t know how I can repay you for that.”

You giggled and it sounded like chimes.

“You don’t have to repay me. Pay it forward; if you help someone like I’m helping you, that will be enough.”

Hoseok wondered for a second if he had fallen asleep on the beach and was dreaming this. Because this woman, she was everything he had dreamt; she was what he had been hoping for. The flicker of hope in his chest grew into a flame and he shivered as a warmth rushed through him.

“Would you like something to eat?” you offered and Hoseok jumped at the chance.

You gave him bread and cheese and watched him eat them, at first tentatively, and then with great gusto. Of course, he had never tried these things before, never eaten human food. You placed some fruit on the small coffee table he was eating at and he devoured that, too. His eyes widened as he bit into a pear, ripe and juicy, sticky sweet nectar dribbling down his chin. He hummed with delight and you saw the sparkle return to his eyes.

You knew what you were there to do but you were enjoying this moment. This was the Prince Hoseok you knew; this was how he should be: bright and smiling, his crescent-moon eyes alight with laughter. You sat next to him and picked at some food, too, not really tasting it because the sweetness of the moment was far too strong.

Hoseok only stopped eating when you stopped giving him food, when you only had enough left for a small breakfast in the morning and nothing else. He sat back, resting on his palms, and sighed happily.

“That was the most amazing meal I’ve ever had!” he exclaimed and you laughed.

“You are very easily impressed. There are far more exciting things to eat here; I simply cannot afford them all.”

He shook his head.

“Not at all. That was wonderful. Thank you so much.”

With his stomach finally full, his fatigue hit him full in the face and he yawned widely, a quiet wail escaping his throat.

“You must be exhausted. Please, take the bed. I can sleep on the sofa,” you said, gesturing towards the bed that sat against one wall.

Hoseok thought the bed looked huge and the sofa, small. He thought about what the right thing to do would be. He couldn’t sleep in the bed. It wouldn’t be right, would it? But he was so tired and in so much pain. He looked at the bed longingly, imagining himself stretching out over its surface, letting it take his weight. He imagined it feeling like water, like being carried on the waves, weightless. He looked at the sofa.

“Please,” you repeated. “Take the bed.”

Every manner, every point of order, every etiquette lesson was screaming at him to say no, to refuse, to offer to sleep anywhere but the bed. To not inconvenience you, to not put you out, to not cost you even more than he already had, to not trespass any further onto your kindness. But sleep was calling, louder and more insistent. His wrecked, ravaged body was screaming.

He nodded shyly and offered a quiet thanks before rising and slipping, sore and worn, beneath the sheets. He was asleep before he even had the chance to notice the way the bed fabric, too, brushed rough against his exposed skin.

You watched him. He looked peaceful; his face smoothed of any worries or concerns. He made a fine human, you thought. He was tall and lean and, despite the pain you knew he was suffering, he didn’t let it show: he’d walked straight and held himself high. Royal blood, you assumed.

You wondered how much you would have to engineer this to ensure success. Despite all you knew about the prince (and you knew a lot), this was a blind spot. He had hesitated when you told him of his conditions; the idea of a child had alarmed him. Maybe he would decide he didn’t want to stay human after all.

There were two and a half days left. That was plenty of time, you decided. You wouldn’t push; he was too delicate for that, especially after his first day’s misery. You would cushion his fall, pick him up carefully, and slowly show him both what the human world was really like and what it could be like with you. You would delight him and impress him and he would give himself to you. He would. You were sure of it. He would fall into the world that you would show him and he would give himself to you, body and soul.

You fingered the clamshell still tied around your neck. It held the pearl you created when you turned Hoseok into a human. It now also held the pearl you created when you turned yourself into one.

* * *

The thing about royalty, the thing about the privileged, who’ve never really experienced hardship, for whom doors have always been opened, is that they are resiliently optimistic folk. Everything has always gone their way; naturally, they assume it always will. Even now, after everything that happened to him yesterday, Prince Hoseok was beaming. He was enamoured. He was full of awe and wonder. He was experiencing the human world as he thought it would be.

Because of you.

It was taking a lot out of you, truth be told, because you didn’t have the riches you needed to show him a human experience comparable to his underwater life. He wasn’t a royal here; he wasn’t anyone at all. Doors didn’t open for him and they didn’t open for you. But Hoseok had his charm and you had charms of a very different sort. So you were making it work, but your nerves were rising; with every bit you put in, you told yourself you had better pull this off. You had better seal the deal, make good on this bargain you had made with yourself, see through to the end the promise you swore to your dead mother and her dead mother and all the dead mothers back until time began.

It was your biggest show. It was your hardest work. Your magnum opus.

Or it would be. If—if you could do it.

Hoseok couldn’t let on that this was his first time on the surface; he couldn’t tell you he was really a merman, that a seawitch had transfigured him, that his legs were really a tail. It was too risky, too dangerous. But he kept forgetting that that meant he had to try to hide his enthusiasm, his surprise. Everything here was new to him. Everything here was fascinating and wonderful and intriguing and he could barely contain himself.

He had no backstory. He had no lies to tell. And he hadn’t noticed that you hadn’t asked. But it was dawning on him that, if he were to have a life here, he would have to think of something to tell people about where he came from. But he didn’t have the time, right now, to think of it. There was far too much to attend to. Too much to see, too much to do.

It would have been overwhelming were it not for you. If he’d had to continue doing this alone... well, he wouldn’t have. Couldn’t have. If you hadn’t found him on the beach last night, where would he be? Sinking beneath the waves? Starving on the shore? You had lifted him up and now you were carrying him along, tethering him to the earth, providing him a guiding string to hold. He had never been so grateful for anyone in his life.

Not even the sea witch.

“What do you say?” you asked him, shortly before sunset on that second day.

Hoseok tried to think, but it didn’t really matter to him and he was so overstimulated, he couldn’t have made a decision if he’d wanted to. He shrugged.

“I’m happy to go wherever you like!”

“Hungry yet?”

He shook his head. He had sampled one of everything at the market after lunch and had to spend half an hour sitting quietly so that it wouldn’t make a return journey up his throat. He was still very far from hungry.

That was exactly the answer you were hoping for.

You led him away from town, towards the west where the land rose in a grassy slope, steep and getting steeper, until you reached the top of the cliff. You walked up to the edge and turned to see Hoseok hanging back, looking nervous.

“Scared of heights?”

Hoseok didn’t know. He had never really experienced ‘heights’, wasn’t quite sure what that meant. But the wind was stronger up here and he knew, without having to look, that the sea was a very long way down. It couldn’t be dangerous if you were doing it, he reasoned, but he’d heard too many stories of humans falling to their deaths from cliffs like these – sometimes deliberately, but often not.

You held your hand out to him and his stretched back before he’d even noticed and he inched forward until you could take it and tug him a little further and a little further still. His heart was in his mouth as he craned his neck to peer down into the foaming waves as they crashed and broke against the rock face. You didn’t let go of his hand.

“It’s very high,” he stated unsurely, not knowing if it was really.

It felt high. It looked high to him. But, in a way, everything was high. The sea had depth, not height. It wasn’t the same thing. He might have wagered that it would be, before now, but looking down to the sandy seabed from high above it was very different from looking down at the sea from the cliff edge. Something to do with the environment maybe.

Maybe the fact that he couldn’t fall off the sea and plummet to his death. Maybe that. He’d never been in mortal danger; the sea was a safe place for him and he had all the protection he might have wanted (more than he wanted, actually); he hadn’t really appreciated it until yesterday, when he had nothing and no one.

Now, he had you.

It had occurred to him. The condition of his staying a human. The three days he had to plant a seed. It kept occurring to him. It wouldn’t stop occurring to him. Not when you smiled, not when you showed him yet another wonder, not when you took his hand in your own. He wasn’t sure if he could do it. For a start, he wasn’t completely sure how all that worked with human bodies. For another, he didn’t know if you would want to. He didn’t know what human culture dictated.

You were beautiful. About that, he had no doubt. Was he attracted to you? Yes, he had decided he was. Did he trust you? Yes, as much as he could trust someone he’d just met; as much as he could trust a human. Did you feel the same way? That was a mystery he didn’t know how to solve. You had stretched out your hand to him; you had paid for him to be fed; you had let him sleep in your bed; you had taken him into your home. It suggested something, but he didn’t know what.

Just as it had the day before, his ignorance alarmed him. His recklessness in coming still surprised him. The weight of his deadline pressed down on him and he shuddered, involuntarily.

He looked concerned, you thought, distracted. You could tell he didn’t really like being so high above the sea; you wondered if it were a merman thing or a Hoseok thing. Being neither, you couldn’t know. You took pity on him and led him back down the cliffside, keeping his hand in yours as long as he would let you.

You assumed you would have to lead, that he wouldn’t take charge of the situation—judging by what you had seen so far. You mulled it over as you wandered slowly back into town. He had never really had to work for it, you supposed. He was a prince. And beautiful. And charming. And kind. He had everything going for him, which meant he had the entire sea throwing themselves at his feet, desperate to be picked. He probably didn’t know the first thing about seduction, about attraction—not really, anyway. It struck you then that there was every chance he’d be a really bad lay. There was every chance you would be, having never done it as a human before, but that was besides the point. The idea of Hoseok disappointing you left a sour taste in your mouth but you ignored it; that was not what you were there for. Good or bad didn’t matter. There was one objective and one only. Your own pleasure, your own, secret, little goals were neither here nor there. You had to stay focused.

Because it wasn’t going to be easy. You knew that. That was half the reason you hadn’t planned to do it yourself anyway (or so you told yourself...). It was going to be harder for you than some random stranger. You knew that. It was going to be horrible, you knew, looking into his eyes when he learnt the truth, when he saw you—the real you—for the first time on land. You could picture it: the shock and betrayal, the fear and hurt. It gave you pause. Because you hated him, hated who he was and what he stood for and everything about the systems and society of the place you both lived. But you also loved him, loved his smile and his eyes, his heart and his soul. You wanted him to be yours forever. You wanted him to choose you. He never would. Not really. If he knew you were here, if he knew the human holding his hand was really the sea witch who’d sent him up there, he wouldn’t choose you.

The shocked, betrayed face. The frightened, hurt expression. You sighed heavily, without meaning to.

“Are you ok?” Hoseok asked, his head tilting to the side.

You smiled brightly back at him.

“Of course! Just starting to get a bit peckish. Shall we eat something?”

Hoseok wasn’t really hungry. The market food was still solid in his stomach. But if you wanted to eat, he’d eat. He’d do anything you asked. He owed you everything.

More, in fact, than he knew.

* * *

You’d been distracted through dinner, which had been fine because, without the food to focus on (Hoseok barely ate), he could look around at everything else. He could fire questions at you (questions that were far too revealing—not that he noticed) and comment on his surroundings and commentate with barely any input required. That meant you could contemplate your task. You’d had to rush into this whole thing, take the reins with very little notice at all. This was not how you usually operated.

You were meticulous and organised because you had to be. Always on your guard because you had to be. Everything you did came with its own audit trail because you couldn’t afford to make mistakes. You had seen what that had done to your mother at far too young an age. Not that she actually made the mistake. But when you don’t have the proof of every action you’ve taken and word you’ve said, they can make it look like you did whatever they say you did.

You ate slowly, not really tasting, not really savouring. Your mind was busy, calculating. You had a day and a half left. 36 hours, give or take. There would be another night after this one. You didn’t relish the idea of leaving it until the last minute, but you could spoil the whole thing entirely if you pushed too hard, too fast. So you decided to wait.

Hoseok was determined, this time, to do the right thing and let you sleep in your own bed. He was embarrassed at the way he had behaved the night before: how greedily he’d eaten, how quickly he had relegated you to the sofa. It made him cringe. And then you had spent the whole day playing hostess to him: showing him around, paying for everything, keeping him company, and answering his questions.

His debt to you was beyond belief. He knew he should leave. He knew he should make his own way. He knew he could not rely on you – not even for the rest of his three days, if that was all he would have. He had to find a way to survive independently. He knew that. He had to pay you back. He had to make things right.

“I’ll sleep on the sofa tonight,” he announced when you returned back to your shabby apartment.

You pretended to be surprised.

“Oh, no,” you replied, “not at all. Take the bed! It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“No way. It’s your bed. I slept on it last night when I really shouldn’t have. Please. Take it.”

You shook your head, scrunching your nose and grinning stubbornly at him.

“No. You.”

He sighed, but the corners of his lips twitched anyway.

“We may have reached a stalemate,” he announced, with solemn mock-seriousness.

You hummed, thoughtfully, running a finger along the bottom of the bed as you stepped closer to him.

“A compromise, then,” you said, poking a finger into his chest.

“And what is your compromise?”

“Well…”

You weren’t shy. Not when you were being yourself and not when you were pretending to be a human. But you were good at acting like it. You looked down and then up at him through your lashes, a small, reluctant smile traced on your lips.

“We could… share?”

You raised a hand to your face, covering your mouth, looking at Hoseok and then away and then back to him, eyelashes fluttering.

The genuine surprise on his face gave you butterflies. You could see his hesitation, watch his mind weigh his options, calculate the costs and benefits of each. He knew too little to have anything to guide him. Anything but you. And you had suggested it.

So it had to be ok, right?

“Share?” he asked, buying himself another moment to think it over, to consider what all this might mean in relation to the condition he had to meet.

You nodded, lip trapped between your teeth.

“Ok!” he answered brightly, hoping it was the right response, and inwardly breathing a sigh of relief when you beamed back at him.

It would be easy to love you, he thought and the sentiment caught him off-guard. He had to be realistic about human life. He wasn’t a prince here. He had nothing. But when he looked at you, he felt rich. He felt like his dream was within his grasp. You were everything he had ever hoped for. He could stay here forever with you, couldn’t he?

He wasn’t going to do anything tonight. Ask or proposition or… or god knew what else. It was too soon. Too early. There was still time. He told himself, there was still time. Still time for him to wake up from this dream he’d fallen into when he met you. Still time to commit to it forever.

You took the left side and Hoseok the right. You curled onto your side, facing him, with the covers pulled up to your eyes. He lay on his back, moonlight from the open shutter illuminating his face in a sharp line that crossed him and left you in the dark.

You watched him for a while: not sleeping, though he had his eyes closed.

“Hoseok,” you whispered. “Where are you from?”

His eyes opened and went to the window.

“Somewhere… close but also very far away.”

“You mean like, culturally?”

You saw him nod.

“Yeah. Where I come from is… very different. More different than I thought.”

“How come you came here?”

He shook his head, eyes trained on the ceiling.

“I had to,” was his simple answer and you let it hang there in the darkness, waiting for him to add to it. “I think I could have stayed, but I’d have got old and I would have looked back and I’d have regretted it. I’d have regretted staying there my whole life. I’d have regretted not seeing everything this wo- this place has to offer. I needed to experience it.”

“Do you like it here?”

He let the question go unanswered for some time. So long that he wondered, after he’d spoken, if you’d fallen asleep in the interim.

“I like some of it. I like you.”

It made your stomach swoop. Even if he wasn’t talking about you. Just the human you were pretending to be. You wondered how a real human woman would have responded to that.

You changed the subject.

“I thought I was seeing things when I first noticed you on the beach.”

A slow smile formed itself on Hoseok’s lips.

“You were… You saw me.”

You reached out and poked his arm.

“I didn’t want to go home not knowing you were ok. If I’d woken up in the morning to a news story about… well, I couldn’t have lived with myself. I realised, as I approached, that you weren’t really in danger. You looked like you were waiting for something. Someone.”

His smile turned rueful and his eyes flicked again to the window, outside of which you could hear but not see the waves crashing on the shore.

“I was,” he said, his voice a low whisper. Then he turned his face away from the light to look directly at you. “I was waiting for a miracle.”

* * *

You no longer had any concerns about the success of your plan. You had no doubt that Hoseok would go along with anything you wanted to drag him into. You didn’t know if he knew what his feelings were, but you did.

It was your own feelings that concerned you.

You hadn’t spent time with Hoseok like this since you were much younger. He was addictive. His smiles and his laughter and the way his eyes gleamed bright all the while. You could feel your resolve crumble and you knew it was bad when you realised it didn’t bother you.

You began to try to re-think things. Reformulate. Work out a way that maybe there could be a future, after all.

Originally, this was where it stopped. This was where your scheming—and your life—would end. You felt the guilt of having had no children: no one to pass your powers and your knowledge down to; you also felt free because you had subjected no one else to a life like yours. It was a heavy burden to be who you were down in the water. But it wouldn’t have mattered much once you were dead, which you were certain you would be at the end of all this. You can’t just ‘kidnap’ the prince, ‘mutilate’, and ‘trap’ him and live to tell the tale. Many had died for less. And you were fine with that. You were living to avenge every woman in your family, every witch, every creature under the sea who lived shunted into shadows, left out of the light, less than. Had been for years.

And for years, your only source of light, the single little gemstone glittering in your heart, was Prince Hoseok. Prince Hoseok and his angelic face, his musical laughter, his charm, his lightness, his brightness, his everything you weren’t and could never be.

You would get to destroy it all in one fell swoop. A beautiful, perfect demise.

Now you weren’t so sure. Weren’t so sure you could do it. You could do it; you weren’t sure you could go through with it. These feelings that you thought you were so used to, not controlled by, not swayed by anymore, were threatening to overpower you. You felt the tendrils unfurl, in the deepest pit of your heart, sending out shoots and roots, embedding themselves further into the bitter, twisted muscle. You could feel them growing through your veins, buds springing up like goosebumps on your skin. You felt them every time his hand accidentally brushed yours, every time you fed him some new food and barely grazed his lips with your fingers. Every time he laughed. Every time he looked at you. Every time. All the time.

Hoseok allowed himself to relax. You liked his company. You wanted him around. He hadn’t tried that hard to leave you—because he had no one and nothing and nowhere else, but also because he recognised that you wanted him to stay. He had realised that, whilst so much was different up on the surface, he was the same. And people liked him. Always had. Yes, he was a prince and there was always a contingent of the sycophantic and the boot-licking, but he had always been well-liked, even amongst his brothers, amongst the entire royal court. He was popular. He was fun. He was funny.

And he was enjoying himself.

He had twenty-four hours. That was enough. He’d make a decision. He was confident in that. He would make a decision soon and he would live with it, whatever it ended up being. He wasn’t pushing himself to find the answer just yet.

He was enjoying himself.

You took him dancing. It felt risky, given what you knew about how much pain he must still be in, how uncoordinated he might be on his two feet, but it was an opportunity to get closer, to show him something new, to show him something you could do. Because you loved to dance. Really only came to the surface to do this one thing.

Certain sea creatures danced, but not like humans did. It wasn’t the same without the sound of feet on floorboards, wasn’t the same without the weight of gravity trying to keep you down every time you pushed up. You weren’t exactly a fan of humans (certainly not in the way Hoseok was), but they had got this right.

Your worries had been unfounded. Hoseok’s legs were feeling better already, he thought, or he was just getting used to the pain. Either way, he wasn’t suffering like he had on the first day. He was a terrible dancer, make no mistake. He couldn’t understand the way people moved their legs, the way their feet moved so quickly they were almost blurs. He tripped and stumbled and crashed about but none of that seemed to matter to you, so it didn’t matter to him either. You held him close and pulled him up and around and twisted and turned and skipped and span until his head was dizzy.

He had never experienced a joy like it.

You took him on a short carriage ride, because there was somewhere else you wanted him to see. It wasn’t that far, really, but you didn’t want him to have to walk and a carriage was as new an experience to him as everything else was.

You made it drop you just far enough away that it wouldn’t spoil the surprise. You gave Hoseok nothing, answering none of his questions, not saying a word, because you were holding your breath to wait for his reaction.

And there it was.

You saw his eyebrows, first raised and then knitted together, and then softening. His eyes widening. His mouth dropping open slightly, in the way that made it perfectly heart-shaped. Then he turned his eyes on you. Was this it? Was this the thing you wanted him to see?

It was.

Like a sea of green grass with hundreds – no, thousands – of red flowers floating on the waves. Hoseok didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t seen anything like this before. It was as if he were in another new world. The red-headed poppies were so numerous, you almost couldn’t see the grass underneath; there was merely a suggestion of verdant growth propping up the riot of colour. What were these things and how did they grow in such great number?

He had been taught, growing up, that humans had no respect for nature. That they ripped up land plants and built over grasslands; they destroyed forests and valleys and wetlands all for their own ends. They would rather look at glass and concrete and chrome than the kaleidoscopic views the natural world had to offer. He had believed them, because he had heard the true stories of what human activity had done to sea life; he had received the messages of the reefs dying and oil spilling and nets catching up all sorts of things they shouldn’t. He thought, trying to give them the benefit of the doubt, as he was always wont to do, that maybe the nature on land wasn’t like the nature in the sea. Maybe things were different up here. Lots of other things were.

Now he saw that he had been entirely wrong. Acres of land lay before him. Acres of useful land that could have grown crops or laid foundations to buildings were ablaze with the bright, bright red of flowers he’d never seen before. And the humans let it happen.

As his surprise gave way to pure, wide-eyed admiration, he noticed that the humans were experiencing it the same way he was. He saw them with their cameras, taking their images (as you had explained to him that’s what they did), keeping the sight forever more. He saw them smile and laugh and frolic. He saw them and saw himself in them. He saw, also, the goodness he had always known was there. The spirit and love and joy of humanity. It was here, in these fields. It was here, in his heart. It was here, standing next to him; you, watching him expectantly, a nervous smile trying to tug your bottom lip from between your teeth.

“Wow,” was all he managed to say.

* * *

It was his last night. What might have been his last night. What could be his last night. Hoseok felt tense. Nervous. Almost sick.

He had decided. He was going to stay. If he could. If he could make it happen. If you wanted it.

He knew he had a home to go back to, if you didn’t. He would always have these three days. No one could take them away from him. And if that’s all he got, if three days on the surface was all he ever got to experience, then so be it. He was putting himself in your hands: himself, his heart, his dreams. His body.

The problem was that he didn’t know how to tell you that. He didn’t know how any of this happened on land. He didn’t know what he could or could not say, or do, or suggest. Which is why he had to leave it up to you. He’d just get it wrong.

It was Hoseok’s last night and you were wondering if you were just imagining the way he was looking at you, wanting him to be looking like that. You could bend reality, but that didn’t mean you always saw it clearly. The heart had tricks of its own.

But you had the advantage over him, because you knew his secrets. You knew that this would be his last chance; you knew that you were his only option. You knew that he wanted to stay. You couldn’t be sure if he wanted to stay enough to sleep with you.

You had suggested wine at dinner because you knew it was what the humans drank and knew it made them silly and loud and boisterous; you knew it lowered their inhibitions and made them do things they often regretted. You didn’t really know how you would react to it—your body was technically human now but you’d never been drunk before—but it had left you feeling warm and a little giddy. It had, blessedly and as you had hoped, made this whole thing easier to think about.

Because your head was spinning a little too fast to think about the bigger picture: the whys and wherefores of how you got here, how he got here, the purpose of this whole thing. You could really only think about the splendid slope of his nose. The way his shallow philtrum led to the smooth, rounded peaks of his cupid’s bow. The tiny, dark freckle there that waited, begging to be kissed. The perfect symmetry of his dimples as he smiled.

You hadn’t indulged in this since you were small. Hoseok had been your first crush. First, last. Only. As a pre-teen, you’d been silly with infatuation over him. Memorised the maps of his freckles and exact proportions of his body. You’d floated around in the sea, daydreaming about him for hours on end, not realising how far you had strayed until your mother had come screaming after you, pulling you back and warning you about being so unaware of your surroundings.

You remembered those feelings now. The fizziness in your limbs and heavy twisting in your gut. Like old friends. Hoseok, too, was an old friend. Your oldest. Your only. Now and, if you got this right, forevermore.

Hoseok had accepted the first glass of wine but recoiled at its taste, unable to believe he’d found something on the surface he didn’t like. You had then explained to him that it was technically a poison and he had been aghast to see you continue to drink it, to look around and see so many other humans doing the same. Every minute brought him something new.

You took his hand as you walked back from dinner to your apartment. It was warm and soft and you were grateful for it. Hoseok was grateful for it, too. His clothes still rubbed at his skin and so much of him still hurt, but your hand in his did not.

You didn’t let go when you reached the door, didn’t let go when it shut behind you and you let the lock click. You tugged him a little closer to you, took his other hand, kept his eyes on yours as you moved closer still.

You hadn’t done this before.

Hoseok hadn’t done this before.

You’d seen it done. You understood the concept.

Hoseok had no idea what was coming, but he had decided what he wanted. He had decided to trust you. And he’d decided to trust his gut, too. If humans were anything like merpeople (and they were), at least some of what was to happen would be instinctive.

He hoped, anyway.

You didn’t say a word, though you had planned to. You had scripted a kind of shy proposition, an awkward hobble of a speech in which you would say and ask and tell. But you abandoned it. Or rather, it abandoned you. Not a single word of it left in your head. So you stopped using it: your head. Stopped thinking.

You pressed your lips to his like you’d seen humans do.

The candle in Hoseok’s heart roared, its flame reaching up his throat and into his mouth. He didn’t have time to think. His body acted for him. For the first time since he crawled onto the shore, his body was feeling something that wasn’t pain. Was feeling something familiar. Something hot and deep and aching.

He didn’t mind the taste of the wine on your tongue, thought it was sweet, actually, had lost the acidic tang of the alcohol that made it poisonous. This kiss was like every kiss that had come before it, but also, nothing like them. Absent, the tang of salt. Present, the wet heat of your mouth and his. Absent, the way he could breathe through his gills. Present, the breathlessness that made him pull away before you pulled him back. Absent, the modest nudity in which the entire undersea world lived. Present, a kind of shy, self-conscious awareness of his hidden body.

An enormous, embarrassed awareness of the bulge in his trousers, the way it couldn’t be hidden. He had been horrified to see it, when he had washed up on the beach, two-legged and naked. He couldn’t believe that humans just walked around with everything on display like that (he had known this already, would have remembered if he’d been in his right mind); he’d felt awkward and conscious the entire time, sure that everyone could see, that it was obscene, that humans couldn’t really live like this?

But never more than now, as it strained against his trousers, which hadn’t been tight thirty seconds ago and were now constraining him in a way that bordered on painful. He kept his body away from you, more difficult now that your hands were skittering up his arms and down his chest, slipping back up his skin underneath his shirt, trying to pull him closer.

You felt a little bit dizzy. Sure, the wine, but also, this. Hoseok. The sweetness of fruit in his mouth. The heat of his skin. The sensation of a kiss—something you’d never experienced before, that you had seen, that had disgusted you—was nothing like you’d imagined. If you had thought about it, if you’d been thinking rationally, you might still have been disgusted by the way your tongues rolled over each other, swapping saliva, the way you could taste him, taste the fruit he’d just eaten. But you weren’t thinking rationally. You weren’t thinking at all.

You were feeling. And it was like nothing you’d ever felt before.

You gave into it.

Hoseok gave into it.

It was, as the humans say, like riding a bike. Though you hadn’t done that either.

Hoseok stopped thinking about it when you removed his shirt and stepped out of your dress. Legs were new to him. That was true. The human arrangement of body parts was new to him but they weren’t all that different once everything was out in the open. You had lit a fire in him and he was happy to stoke the flames. He was burning again, all over, inside and out, but it wasn’t painful, wasn’t torture. It was exquisite. New and familiar at once. Intoxicating.

You fell to your knees and Hoseok thought you had stumbled, bent down to help you up, but you stopped him, shook your head, and he stood straight.

Then you took his thick, heavy cock into your hand and licked the top. You wrapped your lips around it and pushed yourself forward, gliding your tongue along the underside, hollowing your cheeks and sucking. Hoseok gasped and almost fell to his knees himself. He didn’t know what this was, assumed it was a normal part of human sex, briefly wondered if sex actually was different here, if this was the entire act. Then he felt the head of his cock press against the back of your throat and his mind was wiped clean of thought. Replaced by a kind of urgent static that made him want to buck his hips, fuck into the hot clutch of your throat.

You had seen humans do this. You weren’t sure if you were doing it right. Not at first, anyway, but Hoseok had a pained look on his face, his mouth hanging open, his chest heaving as he panted, and you knew that was the reaction you were supposed to be eliciting. You could feel the twitch of his dick as it hit your throat, as you gagged lightly around it. You could just about hear, over the roaring of blood in your ears, Hoseok moaning, your name tumbling from his mouth like a prayer.

You were aching between your legs. You were hot and sticky and you could feel it dripping from you. You felt your walls clench and had the sudden, immediate need for Hoseok’s cock there, not in your mouth. You let it fall, wiped your eyes and your mouth and Hoseok was pulling you to your feet, crashing his mouth into yours, his hands frantic and grabbing.

Neither of you was thinking a second beyond what was happening. Gone were your concerns with your long-planned acts of vengeance. Gone were Hoseok’s worries about committing to life on the surface, about leaving his marine life behind, bringing a child into the world. Gone was the pressure of your subterfuge. Gone was the pressure of all his lies of omission. Gone was everything outside the four walls of this apartment. Gone was the whole world beyond your body in his hands, his body in yours.

Hoseok found that legs made all this much easier. They probably wouldn’t under water, but here, he saw their benefit. Saw the upsides to having two of them, of having them jointed at two places and not twenty. As he knelt over you on the dingy grey sheets of your bed, he almost laughed at the image of him trying to do this with a tail. Maybe there were some upsides to this human body after all.

He placed the tip of his cock at your entrance and pushed his hips forward, a little experimentally, testing the motion, the movement of his hips. He fell forward onto his hands, eyes closed, a long, gasping moan trapped in his throat.

He hadn’t known that humans had it so much better.

Would’ve done this days ago if he had.

You were hot and tight and wet and it was all Hoseok could do not to come right there and then. He paused, trying to catch a breath, gather himself, not lose it all as soon as he had begun.

It was excruciating for a second and the whine you’d let out wasn’t pleasured but pained. You were grateful when Hoseok stopped, though you didn’t think it was for you. Is this what it was like? You had thought they liked it. That was the point, wasn’t it? Humans mated for fun, not just for procreation. You had to assume fun would follow. It had been fun up to that point. It had been its own exquisite kind of pleasurable torture waiting for something to stuff you full.

But now he was and it was like being split down the middle. You wondered for a second if this was how it had felt for Hoseok when he grew legs. Then he started pushing his hips forward again and it tossed all thought out the window.

“Are you ok?” he asked, looking down at you with a frown of genuine concern.

You nodded. You nodded some more. You couldn’t speak because the pressure in your centre was overwhelming, the pain like nothing you had felt before. But you couldn’t stop. You wanted it. You wanted him. You had never been pushed out of your mind like this, brought into your body so viscerally, so violently, with such care. Hoseok brushed a strand of hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ear.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked.

“No.”

You pulled him down to you, down to his forearms, so you could kiss him, so his chest touched yours, so you could distract yourself from Hoseok with even more Hoseok. With your tongue in his mouth, you allowed yourself to cry out as he pushed further. He swallowed the sound and returned his own. You were trembling, your muscles shaking, your skin sticky with sweat.

So was Hoseok.

The pain wasn’t registering anymore, even though he knew it was still there. All he could feel was your cunt squeezing hard around him; it made him dizzy with pleasure. His stomach was churning, twisting; he was bracing trying to make this last.

Because he’d forgotten the point of it. Forgotten that the ending was the bit that counted. He wanted to feel you, he wanted to touch you and taste you and luxuriate in the human experience of this. He hadn’t imagined it but, if he had, even his wildest dreams wouldn’t have come close. Mermaids? He’d never go back.

He paused, to give you a moment, to give himself a moment, a breather. He kissed you, luxuriating in that, too: the way you tasted like no one else he’d ever kissed, the way your mouth was warm and wet, your tongue soft and supple. He liked the way his breath caught in his throat. He liked the way he found himself panting. He even liked the way his shoulders were starting to ache from holding his body up. Liked the way he could feel every muscle of his posterior chain move when he slowly, tentatively began to draw his hips back, when he tipped them forward again, when he set a slow, smooth motion that he found came easily to him.

Having a human body was exhausting. It was hard work. It was heavy all the time and never supported. It had been torture in the truest sense, with every step Hoseok took stabbing daggers into his legs. But he could see the benefits now. Well, he could feel them. He felt more embodied than he ever had before. Somehow separate from the world in a way that made him feel so much more connected to you. You weren’t two small parts of a larger whole. You were the whole.

He had spent time pondering the ways in which air was so different from water. He often thought water came off the better from the comparison. But this was changing everything. It was exhausting and painful and he was so aware of each and every part of his body. And with that, came a gut-churning pleasure that made his eyes water and his head spin. Water had nothing on air.

You weren’t sure it was pleasurable yet. The sharp pain had subsided and the little grunts and groans that Hoseok left in your mouth were sweet enough, but it wasn’t pleasure. Not yet. You were sure it would come. Didn’t mind entirely if it didn’t tonight. There would be other nights.

You hoped, you prayed, there would be other nights. Because it might have been pain, but it was the sweetest pain you’d ever felt. A pain that you somehow longed for, even as you longed for it to end. A pain that made you feel wanted. A pain that connected you to another living being in a way that you never had been. A pain that, in a moment of intense clarity, you realised connected you to women, human women. All human women who had experienced this since time began. You understood a little about their myths about the origin of man, and sin, and punishment.

You understood it. How this could be punishment. How it could be pleasure, too. How it could be worth it.

Hoseok could feel it coming. He was desperately trying to beat it back, to delay its onset, to make this last and last and last. He never wanted it to end, but he could feel his muscles tightening, feel his cock jumping with every thrust. Pleasure was coiling like a spring inside him, boiling rapidly, boiling over.

You gasped alongside him when he came, when his hips and breath stuttered and he filled you with ropes of hot cum. His body was heavy on top of yours, in a pleasing, crushing kind of way that grounded you. At that very moment, neither one of you was thinking about the consequences of what you had just done. What it could mean. What it meant for your best laid plans. You were lying, listening to the soft rushing of your breath and the hammering of your hearts.

It came to you, first, and you didn’t want to think about it. Because you were so full of feeling for Hoseok; feelings that you thought had faded, that had embedded themselves in you in a way that made them fade into the background, made you almost forget they were there, were screaming at you now. In technicolour. Surround sound. Unignorable. Undeniable.

But had you just destroyed him? Destroyed his life? His family?

That had been the intention. Bring down the royal family by having one of their own shun the sea for life on the surface, mate with a human. They’d have known it was you—it couldn’t have been anyone else—and they’d have executed you without trial. But it would’ve been worth it because, forever more, there would be a line of the royal family that ran human, that ran amok on the surface, that no one below the waves would ever be able to forget. It would have been their undoing without doubt. Whatever betrothals lay in wait for the princes would be broken; whatever treaties that were depending on them dashed; the reputation of the family would be in tatters. It would be over for them.

Which was what you had wanted.

But as you lay, absent-mindedly stroking Hoseok’s hair, naked and sweaty and sticky, with a penetrating ache still radiating through your core, you thought about how much that would hurt him. You saw the betrayal on his beatific face and your stomach flipped with fear. Because it wasn’t meant to be you lying here. And that made a difference.

Because you had seen him. You had kissed him. You had had him move inside you. You had loved him your whole life long and now you had to tell him that you had ulterior motives. That you were working against him. That all of this had been the result of your careful manipulations.

There had to be another way. There had been another way. That was how you had designed it. You weren’t supposed to be in this front-row seat. That was the point.

But it was too late now. And you needed a way out.

Maybe he never had to know.

Maybe you could make this work.

Hoseok’s eyes were fluttering shut. He could barely keep them open. He didn’t know if he had just secured his existence here or not. He didn’t know how to guarantee a child. Wasn’t clear-headed enough at that moment to know, for sure, if he wanted one.

He wanted to stay. Oh, he wanted to stay. He couldn’t go back now. But a child?

He felt wicked. He thought about what you might say if you ever learnt the truth. The betrayal. The way he used you for this.

He felt like a coward. He was a pampered prince who had achieved nothing on his own. He had turned to a sea witch in the midst of what amounted to a king-sized tantrum. She had risked her entire existence bringing him here. He had barely survived on his own. You had rescued him. Given him food and shelter and company and the greatest pleasure he had ever known.

He knew he couldn’t tell you the truth. Not if he wanted any part of this to continue.

Because he did. He wasn’t just using you. He wasn’t sure he was using you at all. He liked you. He wanted you. He wanted to stay, not just on the surface, but on the surface with you.

It felt too big. Too confusing. Too difficult. He was a coward, after all, so he closed his eyes and decided to see what the morning would bring.

You noticed his breathing slow, grow heavy and deep, his body relaxing further, his weight pressing down on you harder. He was asleep. That gave you time, you thought. To think of something. Some way out of this. Some way to stay in this.

But your own eyelids felt heavy, kept dropping of their own accord, and you kept losing your train of thought. You gave into it; you would wake early, go out and buy something for breakfast, figure it out in the morning.

#bts fanfic #hoseok fanfic #hoseok x reader #bts x reader #hoseok smut

125 notes · View notes