#'Did The Other One Disappear Or Did You Always Only Have One'

[vaguely-concerned]

imagining that while rook is gone, about a week and a half or so in, there's one night where lucanis suddenly appears unannounced in illario's room in the way he has of doing that and which could scare anyone else to death on its own, but of all people in the world illario is the most inclined to only find it mildly annoying to look up from his bad boy Brooding and also facemask-equivalent beauty routine (can't be tragically denied even being doomed by the narrative if you ain't cute) to find his cousin -- now first talon of the crows at least in name -- suddenly staring at him intently and expressionlessly from a few meters away. and when illario (half-jokingly, half-seriously, all-yearningly because crows live bad) is like 'ah so is this finally it are you here to kill me' even with no vengeful purple glow in evidence lucanis just snorts scathingly to show all the seriousness with which he still takes that idea and illario has to wistfully be like 'no, I thought not. so to what do I owe the honour, then, first talon. I figured you'd be pretty busy out there by now'.

and lucanis doesn't say anything at all, just stands there silently for a while and then sits down in a corner of the room with his back against the wall and buries his face in his hands. you have to understand how crucial it is for my vision here that they Do Not talk about it. they never talk about it, not in that moment and not later. illario doesn't have the first idea what 'it' could even be, once he's asked 'is it -- caterina? did something happen to...' (feeling suddenly and absurdly as much like a little boy again as lucanis just had before covering his face) and gotten the slightest headshake in response, nothing else he tries to ask even gets a reaction.

everything is all fucked up and nothing is ever going to be like it used to and the fact that this is where lucanis thought to go about whatever has happened to make his eyes look like that is ludicrous on so many levels and in so many ways. but I do think illario eventually sighs and at least sits down on the floor next to him, leaving a bigger distance between them than he might have once both in self-defense and out of something like consideration. 'I'd ask if you'd like to talk about it, but of course I know you. you never do'. (even with everything else that has happened, illario still knows lucanis better than almost anyone in the world. few things could have convinced him that maybe it really is his cousin in there still quite like this prolonged and complete lack of communication lol.) in the silence they fail to keep each other company in the same way they have for years, but maybe they can at least be honest about it now.

and then when lucanis gets to his feet like this entire very strange silent last half hour never happened to brush dust from his clothes and say he has to go... what can illario really do but go 'sure. great talk, as always. happy to be of service' from the floor as he watches his cousin disappear again into the night. I imagine illario wearing some sort of opulent bath robe or something through this whole thing by the way I think that's an important detail to get in there

[crepezinhos]

Out of Reach

POV: You’d never think a few small talks every now and then and effortless circus perfomances would spark such a passionate fan like him, especially when your differences segregated you two so much.

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is an angsty SFW Oneshot (not proofread)

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns

— AU is: 1910s

— Vet!Character x Performer!Reader

— This is a multifandom work. Characters/Fandoms included are clarified down below and in tags too.

Imagine you and him, who work together in circus, the kind that resides in a train and perform from city to city. You’re a ballerina, a professional dancer, who performs with an elephant as a partner, and him, who’s been recently recruited as a vet to take care of it.

He isn’t even professional. He’s a poor man who attempted veterinary school but couldn’t handle the expenses, so he gave up and ran way from his urban life, but he still does a professional job just for you.

He doesn’t double check before you straddle the elephant, he triple-checks, quadruple-checks, and even more if it means you’ll be ok and that the elephant won’t ever have a panick attack. That’s also why he refuses to use physical punishment with it. He not only has a tremendous empathy for animals in the first place, but he also views that elephant as a sacred relic blessed by your talent and beauty. He will wake up in the middle of the night to make sure the elephant is sleeping well, he will brush every little corner of the elephant’s enormous body with multiple layers of soap, he’ll assure its little accessories and makeup are perfectly done… everything in the name of you.

How could those amused faces in the crowd not make a line for your autograph after your performances? He’d proudly be the first one on it.

He’s your secret biggest fan.

He watches every show of yours.

No matter if he has duties to do.

He’ll always find a way to sneak out or have a colleague cover for him, and watch you from a far, isolated corner in the crowd, hidden in the shadows. Even if he’s anxious and afraid you might fall or embarrassingly trip and twist an ankle when you’re standing on the elephant’s back, his eyes cannot stop admiring you.

The thrill… the beauty… the music… the costume… the dance… the art.

No matter how many times he’s watched that repeated set of actions, for him, you somehow always make something ‘new’ that make hai actions widen.

How could all the other performers only shower you with shallow compliments?

“You did really well!���

“Nice job!”

“Great performance today!”

You deserve more than just those words. You deserve someone kissing your feet, you deserve a group of maids massaging your back, you deserve a man waiting for you to get home so he can take care of your every need.

And that’s why he finally broke his own limits.

That’s why his feet were moving so quickly in your direction, breathing almost uncontrolled, for some reason fearing that you’d somehow disappear if he didn’t reach you in time, fearing that someone would say what he had to say to you first and make his words lose meaning.

You looked hypnotizing even when you were just sitting on top of a random crate. The moonlight making your jewelry and glossy eyes sparkle like a diamond and your dress accentuating your fine curves… he desperately desired to watch you from a close distance, but he knew that’d reasonably creep you out.

“Y/N.” His whole body shivered as he pronounced your name after so many days without saying it to you.

Your zoned-out face finally seemed to be brought back to reality with his figure standing some inches away from you, but as soon as you paid attention to him, your nose couldn’t help but detect the smell.

He works with your dear elephant, and that means he needs to clean the kilograms of rotting shit it eliminates of its body and carry it out of the train. The lack of access to showers makes the smell stick to his every cell of his body like a parasite, a fucking leech that always made your expressions of him be low for any situation that wasn’t veterinary. Especially considering his constant timid behavior, he looked like nothing but a random loser to you.

And he obviously couldn’t help but remember all the others reasons why you’d feel disgusted to him when he looked at a mirror. His calloused hands due to manual labour, the dirt under the tip of his nails, his oily and unwashed hair, the dust, feces and dirt spread around his body and his clothes, which probably had already became permanent stains at this point, his yellowish teeth, his tired eyes, and that stupid fly that has been annoyingly following him and hanging around his space for these last minutes.

No matter if he had a cute face behind all those layers of grubbiness and unsanitary life conditions.

That’s why you flinched away, and your hand immediately moved to pinch your nose and stop your nasals to absorb and taste his smell.

Oh.

How could he forget?

How could he forget that he has no chance with you? How could he allow himself to walk so confidently to you as if he was your closest friend? Or as if you cared about what he had to say?

Perhaps… was your performance tonight what made him feel this way? This delusional? Was that how much you inspired him? Well, he should just disappear now, shouldn’t he? He’s a bother, isn’t he?

You immediately gasped and put your hand on top of your mouth as soon as you realized your wrong and saw his excited face die in a blink and become embarrassed due to that.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” You stood up, trying to make your apology seem more genuine and respectful, but he immediately fought you back.

“No, no. It’s ok.” No matter how genuine his smile looked, he couldn’t make eye contact with you anymore, and that made your heart ache in regret. “I understand.” He reached a hand to the back of his neck and begun scratching it as a way to control himself as he prepared to organize his confession.

He bit his inferior lip for a few seconds, and you made sure to wait if that meant he’d forgive your attitude.

“I just wanted to say that…” He had to pause again if he didn’t want to pass out. “Your performance was absolutely mesmerizing tonight.” The gentle tone and sway of his voice towards your ears made your heart ache even more for him.

He felt afraid of course, but every syllable pronounced was vital. How could he be 100% honest to you when that’s how you reacted to his presence? But he still somehow dearly hoped his determination would mean something to you. That your artistic mind could interpret his choice of words and perhaps remember that moment for the next years.

How could you treat your own vet like that?! After all the work he does for your elephant, that’s how you treat him as? After all those small talks you two shared throughout those months? And considering those small talks were centered around you, it made you even worse for him.

He’s not even ugly in the first place. His facial features and manly and sharp, his eyes are catchy, his hands and fingers are long, and his body is slim and healthily worked-out.

“I…” You couldn’t even react to it. You were truly taken aback and felt with those words. “Thank you… I-I’m sorry for—” He immediately started nodding his head side-to-side.

“No need to apologize.” He shrugged his shoulders and began to turn back, but those damn words in the tip of his tongue that were begging to come out couldn’t be held back anymore. “Have a good night, Ms. Y/N. I’ll make sure Ella is prepared for tomorrow.” No matter if his heart was too overwhelmed with anxiety and his stomach with butterflies, he was disappointed at himself for even bothering you in the first, so he immediately started walking away from you before you could say anything else.

And you pathetically decided to let him go, regretting that decision more and more with every step of his, but only silence could be heard between you two.

At least he was glad that you seemed touched by him.

He was glad he said the things he needed to say, even if you’d never look at him the same way he looks at you, according to his thoughts.

So he walked home with blood running roughly on his cheeks, and a smile that couldn’t find rest.

Diluc, Kazuha, Zhongli, Itto, Gorou, Xiao, AlHaitham, Kinich, Neuvillette, Kabukimono, Ororon, Cyno

Luocha, Kakavasha, Dan Heng, Blade, Gepard, Sunday

Jiyan, Calcharo, Xiangli Yao

Taglist: @amoyanderes @shyentsfoundherink @kindofshyent @the-stinky-winky @goofy-ego @bigmantiddys @alatusorrow @luminieee

[melodyanqel]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄 ── ★ h.jh. (002. only you)

love at first sight happens between the police officer and a bright, innocent woman. they shared a deep connection that meant they needed each other more than anything, even when they experienced the same nightmare.

⤷ pairing: hwang jun-ho x fem!oc

⤷ genre/tags: fluff, angst, thriller, psychological drama, established relationship, team bonding, financial issues, games, action, betrayal, foreigner!soft!oc, protective!junho

⤷ warnings: smut! mention of masturbation

⤷ wc: 4.1k words

⤷ note: ahh this is my first time writing +18 parts and i hope it is decent enough lol. also i hit 200 followers! as a thank you here is a longer chapter ♡

⤷ melodyanqel taglist: @hwallazia @rubyredish @analysisiinternet @ilovebtsomgie

“I’m glad you are in a positive mood. I love seeing you smile.” 

Tough men can be soft, and that's no shame. Lily looks at Jun-ho with endearment. His ethereal side profile is straight out of a romance manhwa. She can admire for hours and never get tired. 

Jun-ho then stops at a red light and cranes his neck to look at Lily. His brawny hand takes her small, delicate one. “Even when I become mopy for no reason.” He draws a grin and she giggles with blushing cheeks. In response to his question, “Yes. I haven’t gotten sick of it.” She tightens her grip. Jun-ho raises Lily's hand to kiss her knuckles like a real prince. 

About another ten minutes, the couple arrived at Mrs. Hwang’s apartment. Jun-ho still lives with his mother and it’s common for people in this country to live with your loved ones, despite your age. Lily didn’t find it strange because she would’ve done the same if she couldn’t afford to move out. Plus, it’s great that Jun-ho is willing to care for his mother. 

He mentioned In-ho but never told Lily about what happened in 2021 or his sudden disappearance. However, Jun-ho did give stories about his brother before everything. They were all moments when they were kids. Even though they’re half-brothers, they bonded quickly like blood-related brothers. And there are times when Jun-ho misses the old In-ho. 

After ringing the doorbell, an elderly woman opens it for her son and his girlfriend. 

Lily smiles in delight. “Omonim!” She opens her arms and Mrs. Hwang doesn’t miss a second for a hug. “My dear! You’re beautiful as always!” She caresses the back of the younger woman’s head. “Thank you, omonim.” Lily thanked her. 

As they parted, Mrs. Hwang moved her attention to Jun-ho. He goes into her arms. “Hi, omma. Thank you for the birthday wishes.” He has to bend down to embrace his tiny yet remarkable mother. She tells him, “Of course. You’re my child and I’m not too old to not remember.” Mrs. Hwang is still healthy for a woman in her sixties. 

Her quips never fail to make the couple laugh. She does have some wit. 

Shortly, everyone gets inside the apartment. Like a magnet, Lily zooms into the kitchen and sees the delicious home-cooked food in containers. It’s also good because she doesn’t need to make or buy meals for the rest of the week. Jun-ho is also mesmerized by his mother’s cooking. 

“Wow, you outdid yourself, omma.” He commented. She pats his left arm and states. “Whenever it’s your birthday, I’ll spoil you.” Mrs. Hwang will continue to make him feel like he is the best in the world. Jun-ho chuckles and gathers the containers in the tote bag on the island. “I’ll let you know whenever I’ll be home.” He didn’t need to tell his mother because she knew he’d return. But he is still afraid of her scolding. 

“Okay. Enjoy your birthday, honey.” Mrs. Hwang kisses Jun-ho’s cheek. Lily watches the moment happen and it warms her heart. Then she felt something. “Let me go use the bathroom first before we leave.” She drank four bottles of water today. It’s summer and scorching hot. Lily scurries to the bathroom like a mouse. 

When she leaves the kitchen, it’s the mother and son together. Mrs. Hwang instantly asked Jun-ho. “Have you asked her yet?” She is eager to know if their family will grow bigger. Jun-ho sighs and shakes his head. “No, not yet. I wanted to do it on our second anniversary, but I wasn’t sure if her family would accept me. Especially her parents. I barely asked them last week and they welcomed me.” He confessed to his mother about his self-doubt.

She gives him a hopeful look. “Don’t be scared. I love Lily so much that I don’t want any other woman for you. If you do it tonight, call me.” Mrs. Hwang hugs her son and he takes it because he needs to calm his nerves. 

The sound of footsteps approaches them. Lily sees them hugging and she patiently waits for them. Jun-ho feels her gaze and he breaks away from his mom. He makes eye contact with his beautiful angel. “Ready?” He questions and Lily nods her head. 

Once again, she thanks Mrs. Hwang for the food. The couple said goodbye to her and can now have their little party. Jun-ho holds Lily’s hand as they head back to the vehicle. He takes deep breaths because he doesn’t expect to be nervous. Lily notices his touch is getting clammy. She reads Jun-ho’s body language and it concerns her. 

“Are you okay?” The petite woman inquired the tall policeman. 

He answers in short, “I’m good. I’m a bit exhausted but I have enough energy.” Thankfully, Lily comprehends and goes with the flow. Jun-ho is becoming a wreck, internally. It’s worse than his first day on the job. 

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

After a quick stop, it’s a relief to be back in the comforts of your home. 

Once Jun-ho enters Lily’s place, he sees the decorations in the small living room. A gleeful smile plays on his face when he reads a sign on the ceiling, above the coffee table. It says, “Happy Birthday Darling.” 

He also spotted colorful balloons on the floor, table, and couch. But the most prominent is the big Pochacco balloon sitting by the patio door because Jun-ho reminds Lily of the adorable Sanrio dog. Jun-ho closes and locks the door. He embraces his woman from the back to sprinkle kisses on her neck. He has been waiting all day to have intimacy. 

The man hears the beauty squealing from the affection. “I take it that you love my decorations!” She was taken advantage of by his hug attack. The only side of Jun-ho that no one will ever see, except for Lily. He presses one last kiss on her neck. “You did amazing. Let’s start our night.” Jun-ho will appreciate Lily until his last breath. 

He separates from her and excuses himself to put his backpack in her room. Jun-ho packed clothes, hygiene supplies, and a spare key to Lily’s apartment, in case she gets locked out or whenever he comes by. He unzips the front pocket to grab an item—a little box. 

Jun-ho knows he can’t be a coward because he promises his mother and her family that he’ll take their relationship to another level. He breathes in and out to ease the tension. Jun-ho puts the little box in his pocket and goes to his girlfriend. 

He leaves the room and witnesses Lily placing a heart-shaped vanilla cream cake on the dining table. It has “Happy Birthday Jun-ho” written in icing and hangul. She adds the candles and lights the wicks. Jun-ho is thirty-three. Whenever people turn thirty, they sometimes get worried because of aging anxiety. But Jun-ho is grateful to continue living. He fought for his life to wake up from a coma. 

Jun-ho walks over to Lily. She hears his footsteps and perks her head. An ecstatic smile rises on her lips. Lily sings him “Happy Birthday” in Korean and Jun-ho smiles ear to ear. 

“Happy birthday to Hwang Jun-ho! Happy birthday to you!”

Lily claps her hands cheerily when he blows out the candles. “Picture time! Go sit by your cake!” She runs to the island and takes her phone out of her purse. Jun-ho grins merrily and he obliges his lover’s demand. She comes back to snap hundreds of pictures. Lily once thought Jun-ho should sign up for modeling because his beauty is magnificent. She sometimes wonders how she got so lucky. 

They do look like the perfect couple—almost too perfect. 

“Are you done?” Jun-ho has been posing for a minute and getting a bit tired. Lily responds, “I’m done!” She sets down her phone on the table. It probably has no storage left. 

Out of the blue, her boyfriend asked her. “Should I tell you what I wished for?” 

Lily gives him a staggered expression. “No! It won’t come true!” She believes in the saying and he shouldn’t ruin it. 

Jun-ho then pulls out the chair to stand up. “My love. I do want to tell you something, though.” He gets her full attention. Lily watches him come to her. Sure. What is it?” she asked calmly, having no clue. Jun-ho purses his lips and takes both her hands into his. Courage—he truly needs it, and can’t turn back now. Jun-ho begins to expound. 

“You are the only woman in my life. I was hesitant to do this, but I realized you mean so much to me that I don’t see anyone else to make me feel alive and know what love is. I took the time to think about it with my omma and your parents about what I want my future to be like. I hope it gets fulfilled once I ask you a question.” 

His warm brown eyes are on hers and without looking away, he lets go of her hands. Jun-ho is down on one knee and pulls the small box out of his pocket. He hears Lily gasp and her chocolate brown orbs are glassy. She has tears welling. Jun-ho opens the box to reveal a silver ring with a circle diamond. “Will you be my wife, Lilymae Reed?” He finally asked the question. 

Lily nods her head earnestly as tears fall from her eyes. “Yes! Yes, Hwang Jun-ho!” She sobs her words. Jun-ho’s lips crack a big smile and he gingerly puts on the stunning jewelry on her left ring finger. He stands on his feet to gather a crying Lily into a big bear hug.  

“Oh, I have a gift from Bo-young!” She remembers the drawing. They parted and Lily took out the paper from her purse. She hands it to Jun-ho and he is truly fascinated. “Wow. She is wonderful. Tell her that I love it.” He kindly compliments the little girl’s artwork. Jun-ho believes and so does Lily, Bo-young has a crush on him, but it’s overall cute. 

His birthday will forever be his favorite day from now on. 

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

“So, is that why you’ve been acting weird?” 

Lily knew something was up with Jun-ho, but she didn’t question it. She slurps on the jjajangmyeon that his mother cooked. It’s like heaven in her mouth. Jun-ho is eating the same thing with dumplings. 

The silence breaks when he puts down his chopsticks and clarifies to Lily. “It did take me months to build the courage. So, around last week, I managed to talk to your parents and my broken English somehow made them understand that I need their blessings. I then earned it. I also told my omma and she was exhilarated because she wanted you and your family to join us, which I should tell her soon.” He must not break his mother’s promise. 

Jun-ho sees Lily crying again while chewing on her noodles. He couldn’t contain his laughter. His fiancé is too precious. Jun-ho reaches over to grab her left hand. His thumb brushes the ring on her finger. Lily finishes chewing and wipes off the tears with her right hand. 

She tells Jun-ho her thoughts. “I wished my family was here. I must thank them for letting you marry me because I am so grateful they accepted you. Also, your omma. I love her with my life,” Lily pauses and continues, “I’m looking forward to being her daughter-in-law.” That sounds odd but she’ll get used to it. Jun-ho holds her hand firmly. “I too wished your family was here. However, one day they’ll come visit South Korea.” He reassured Lily. 

“Yes, one day.” Her voice trails like an echo. 

To lighten the mood, Jun-ho suggests finishing dinner because he does want dessert. He has a sweet tooth just like his fiancé. Bumping into the bakery was either a coincidence or destiny. 

After devouring the delicious jjajangmyeon and dumplings, they had enough space for the vanilla cream cake. Jun-ho takes a piece with a fork and eats it. His dark brown eyes widen. “Wow! You did amazing!” He compliments Lily’s homebaked dessert. She smiles gaily at his cute reaction. “Thank you! You can have more whenever you want.” Lily learned culinary when she first started living by herself because she knows she’ll need it in the future. 

Her gaze lands on Jun-ho lips. She snickers and wipes off the cream with her thumb. “Don’t be a slob. I want to marry someone with manners.” Lily said in jest but she did mean it. Jun-ho then teases her by licking her thumb. She jolts and pulls away. “Yah! Don’t do that!” Lily glares at him with rosy cheeks. His eyes darken at the shy look she is giving him. Since when did Jun-ho become so seductive? Lily snatches the plate from him. “No more cake for you!” She chides and sets down the cake on the island. 

Jun-ho chuckles huskily and wraps his arms around her petite waist. She has her back against his broad chest. His cleaned lips are close to her ear. “I love you, my Lily.” He spoke in a much deeper and elegant voice. The shy woman slowly puts her arms over his and turns her neck to look up at him. Lily is staring at Jun-ho's strong, needy gaze. “I love you too.” She admits wholeheartedly. 

The man and woman move forward, touching their lips into a delightful kiss. 

In the end, they ate more of the cake because Jun-ho wanted it before going to bed. 

Midnight arrives, which means time to wash up and rest. Well, not for Lily. She is engaged and wants to do something more romantic and sensual. Indeed, Lily is the type to wait because she never experienced a serious relationship. She had a few boyfriends, but they didn’t consider her much. Jun-ho is different. He gives Lily consent and respects her. It’s also one of the many reasons she agrees to date him. 

Lily is in the bathroom while Jun-ho lies on the bed, scrolling through his phone. She looks at herself in the mirror and she is nervous. Lily wears a white babydoll slip dress. It’s see-through so her stomach and underwear are shown. Her brunette hair has no bows and her makeup is retouched. After deep breaths, Lily leaves the bathroom and sheepishly goes to Jun-ho.

He hears the door creaking, and instantly, he feels something and puts his phone on the nightstand. The love of his life is dressed all pretty and sultry. Lust begins to take over him. 

Jun-ho sees how shy Lily is when she steps closer to him. She reaches the bed and crawls to him like a vixen. It’s the first time Jun-ho is thrilled and fully aroused by a woman. Lily has the effect. He also had touched himself while thinking of her. She has the body of a goddess and her dulcet voice does things to him. Plus, her shyness makes him want to ravish her. 

Lily’s soft breasts sway when she goes to Jun-ho and he can see her folds being covered by a lace underwear. Her innocent yet lustful brown orbs and blushing cheeks are making him hard. Lily straddles his waist and her hands press Jun-ho’s chest. She feels a bit tingly from his strong gaze. His hands hold her perfectly curved waist. 

“Are you sure?” Jun-ho asked in a husky yet tender voice.

To his surprise, Lily nodded. “Yes. I want you.” She confessed to her future husband. A squeak lets out of her mouth when Jun-ho flips her. Now he is on top. His lips passionately kiss her plump rosy ones. Lily’s breath hitches when he forcefully sticks his tongue into her mouth. She wraps her arms around Jun-ho's neck to deepen it. Her tongue timidly licks his and he releases a dark chuckle.

Jun-ho pulls away with a sly smirk. “You look exquisite, my love. I didn’t expect you to dress like a slut for my birthday.” His filthy yet affectionate words have Lily covering her face with her hands and legs tightening around Jun-ho’s hips. Not to mention, her panty is no longer dry. 

“It’s embarrassing when you speak like that.” She has to get used to Jun-ho’s praises. She listens to the sound of him removing his shirt. He hovers into Lily’s space to remove her hands. Jun-ho’s smirk turns into a cordial smile. “Don’t worry, my love. I’ll be gentle.” He gives Lily’s hands kisses.

They take it slow, finding new places to kiss, lick, taste, and bite. Once taking off her babydoll and underwear, Jun-ho appreciates her goddess-like body creatively, using his hands, mouth, and tongue. His lips move to her cleavage. Lily does the same to him. She runs her hands over his muscular body with sculpted abs and pecs. Her hands stopped at his sweats. She grips the hemline and looks at Jun-ho.

He lifts his eyes, “Yes, you may.” He says in a low voice. 

Now they’re both naked. Jun-ho sits up and pulls Lily onto his lap. She takes the time to admire him as if she hasn’t done that before. However, she has discovered beauty in her man. She gasps when she feels his cock, rises big against her ass. Lily feels her folds getting wetter because Jun-ho is undeniably beautiful. 

“Jun-ho!” She cried out his name when his mouth immediately sought an erected nipple, sucking greedily. 

He has been waiting to taste these adorable buds. 

Lily then moans loudly from his fingers touching her pearl. Jun-ho releases her nipple and speaks into her ear. “You’re so sensitive. I hope you can handle my cock.” He groans and continues to rub Lily’s twitching folds. She becomes a mess when his index and middle fingers slide inside. Her squeals and gasps are airy and high-pitched like a mellifluous melody. Jun-ho can feel her holding his shoulder roughly from the euphoria. His fingers move intensely. 

“I-I feel something. I-I d-don’t know.” Lily stutters as pleasure fills in her stomach. 

Jun-ho demands, “Cum. Cum, angel.” 

She does what he says. A loud, delicious moan escapes from her mouth. She can feel a cream substance explode from her cunt and onto Jun-ho’s fingers and abs. Overstimulated, Lily hugs him by wrapping her arms underneath his biceps to feel his sturdy back. Jun-ho gives her a moment to recover because she is twitching. His clean hand rubs her back. 

“Again, are you sure? I don’t have protection.” He is being cautious. Lily makes an effort to respond to him. “Yes, I’m ready. And I do have them in my nightstand drawer. Don’t ask.” Her cheeks burned and she felt his chest move up and down because he was laughing. 

Lily moves off of him as Jun-ho takes one condom and tears it open to put it on. He gently lays his woman on the bed and goes on top. “You can scratch and bite me if it’s too much,” Jun-ho reassures Lily, even though he’ll enjoy a bit of pain. 

A joyful smile graces her face. “Sure thing.” She is officially letting him have her body. 

Lily locks her legs behind his back, angling herself as he pushes through, inch by inch. She gasps, throwing her head back and whimpering in delight. Jun-ho moves with purpose, reveling in her as he gives her every bit of himself and listens to her gasps turn into throaty moans. Lily shudders against him, and he picks up her hips so he can hit that one place that’ll drive her wild. 

“Fuck, baby. You’re so fucking perfect.” Jun-ho is proud to worship what’s his endlessly. 

Her walls close around Jun-ho and he grips the sheets. Lily kisses his temple, crying against his shoulder as she reaches the cusp and orgasms. 

The lovers spent the night intertwined underneath the full moon. 

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

Golden rays of the sun ascended from the horizon. It’s the next morning and everywhere is quiet. 

Lily dug into Jun-ho’s chest, wrapping her like a blanket with his athletic arms. The sun begins to beam through the curtains. She grimaces when light shines on her to wake her up. Her chocolate brown eyes blinked open and she first noticed her sleeping fiancé. He looks so peaceful and cute. Not like last night. 

“You can take a picture, it’ll last forever.” 

Jun-ho’s deep, drowsy voice scares Lily. His eyes are still closed. She pouts, “I wasn’t looking.” A failed excuse that made him laugh in contentment. 

He opens those warm brown irises that she loves. Jun-ho plays a grin. “Good morning. Do you have any plans for today?” He asked and brushed her luscious brunette strands out of her face. Lily replied, “Yes. I’m having a girl’s day with So-eun. I forgot to mention she bought that dress for me and the condom.” A blush blooms her fair cheeks. Jun-ho laughs at her bashful expression. 

“Tell So-eun that I said thank you.” He receives a light smack from Lily. His outgoing fiancé gets extremely shy about intimacy or sex. It also makes Jun-ho fall for her more because she is so pure-hearted. 

Lily lets out a breath. “I need to get ready or she’ll blow up my phone.” She knows So-eun hates waiting and it’s understandable. Jun-ho buries his face into her face and whines. “Why must you go?” He sounds like an upset child. Lily didn’t think the almighty Jun-ho would be so clingy. 

“Don’t you have work, mister?” She giggles when he groans in annoyance. His grumpy side is amusing to her because he knows his chief will yell at him if he doesn’t show up. That man has no patience and is forever cranky.

It’s also the weekend, but Jun-ho picked up a shift to earn extra. The next day, he’ll go sailing, which he’d been doing since June, and can’t find the island where the game took place. “I take that as yes.” Lily does a little nudge but Jun-ho has no complaint. He feels her delicate fingers brushing his dark locks. If only he could stay like this for eternity.

No nightmares, no worries, and no complications. 

“I’m sure you’ll do great. If you need to vent, you can always come to me.” Lily has no problem being Jun-ho’s leaning shoulder because, in their future marriage, they need to express themselves. Communication has improved for them, but Jun-ho will not tell his mother and Lily the truth about In-ho and the sinister game that lures people to their deaths. 

The man lifts his head from his love's hair to kiss her swollen lips. “Thank you. And you stay safe.” He gives her a direct reminder with love and care. Lily nods, “Of course. The same goes for you.” She hugs his neck and lays a little kiss on the side of her darling’s cheek. 

Afterward, Jun-ho is freshened up and puts on his uniform. He looks like he is getting ready for school, which is what Lily once commented and he does. 

Jun-ho stands in front of her full-length mirror to tie his tie. When he was a detective it was different. He wore regular clothes, a badge, and a gun holster. It was nice but he isn’t positive about going back. Guess road safety suits him better. 

Eventually, Jun-ho goes to the kitchen where he notices Lily is laying out breakfast dishes and two mugs on the table. She wears a plain white shirt, a jean skirt, and frilly socks. Her long brunette hair is up in a high ponytail. The sight makes his heart full because he gets to wake up to his beautiful angel every day in the future. 

Jun-ho approaches Lily and brings his left arm around her waist. “Good morning. The food looks divine.” His eyes land on the two avocado toast with over medium eggs. Lily smiles, “I used to eat these when I lived in America. It’s like comfort food for me.” She would share Jun-ho her childhood meals and it impresses him how tasty they are. 

“Well, I’ll be enjoying it.” He pecks her cheek as a thank you and sits down to devour the toast. Lily joins him and pushes a mug of black coffee into the center. “For you because you need your energy.” She figures he’ll have a long day. Jun-ho grins mirthfully because Lily knows him too well. 

He almost forgot to tell her something when it hit him. Jun-ho says, “My birthday wish is to marry the love of my life and it came true.” He sees Lily blushing with a big smile. She coos, “Aww. I’m glad that it’s happening. Also, tell omonim about it.” He did keep a promise and he shall commit. 

Jun-ho responds, “Of course. You know how my omma is. She had been waiting for it when I first entered my adulthood.” 

Lily laughs blithely because Mrs. Hwang can be a little nosy.

series masterlist | three

[letstrip13]

୨୧ - picnic date

summary: 🍓🧺💐

warnings: none!

word count: 750

author's note: idea from the amazing @mattscoquette she's the absolute sweetest ever and i'm so glad we became friends !! <3 sorry for the wait btw

author's note 2: click here! and click here! i have little announcements about my account

author's note 3: also i just started a thing i'm calling 'mae's sturniolo catch up' so check that out too!! :)

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matt walks next to you, your fingers interlaced together as his thumb rubs the back of your hand gently in back and forth motions. in his other hand is the picnic basket you two packed together.

“where's the spot you talked about?” you smile and swing your arms a little, feeling like a giddy teenager for this date. “we're almost there.”

after some more steps, you both approach a clearing amongst the field of wildflowers you've been walking through. the summer sun beats down on you and you fan yourself with your free hand. after what feels like an eternity, you finally get to your spot and he places the picnic basket on the ground.

𐙚 ࣪ ˖

after setting up the picnic blanket and the food you brought, you and matt sit close and start eating the little heart-shaped sandwiches he helped you make just that morning. well, ‘help’ is a strong word. he just stood there with his arms wrapped around your waist, occasionally taking a topping to eat when he thought you weren't looking, while you did all the work.

the mini sandwiches quickly disappear from the plate one by one and all that's left are crumbs as matt pulls a bottle of champagne and two glasses from the basket.

he opens the bottle with that satisfying pop and pours some out for you then himself. “happy three months, matt,” you say as you clink your glass against his. “happy three months,” he replies with a smile before kissing you.

sure it may not be a ‘normal’ couple thing to be celebrating an anniversary this early on, but the past three months with him have been some of the best of your life. and he felt the exact same way about you. some may even bring up the three month rule; after that you can be sure if you want to continue the relationship or not, and you're more than certain you want to be serious with matt.

you slowly sip on your glasses of champagne and share some strawberries as you savour the moment of just being together right now. the summer's early evening breeze floats past you as the sun casts a golden glow on everything, getting ready to start coming down.

you're both sipping on your second glass, the last of the champagne since you only got a small bottle, when matt downs the rest of his and stands up suddenly, walking away from the clearing. “where are you going?” you call out to him.

he was walking quickly so he made it far in a short amount of time. “i’m getting you flowers,” he shouts back. you can't help but smile at the sweet gesture. he's always doing stuff like this, always paying attention to the little things, part of what makes him such a wonderful boyfriend.

a few minutes later he comes back over and stands in front of you, holding a big, over-the-top bouquet of wildflowers. “for you,” he mumbles shyly. you gratefully accept and kiss him when he sits down. “they're beautiful, thank you.” you take a flower out and put it in your hair.

seeing this stirs an idea in matt and he moves to position himself so he's kneeling behind you. “can i braid your hair?” “yeah, i'd like that. are you putting flowers in it too?” he hums a yes in response as he moves all your hair back and divides it into three uneven sections.

after a little while of him figuring things out, with the occasional small tug and mumbled apology, the braid is finished. he starts plucking random flowers from the bouquet and puts them through the braid. he takes a picture on your phone and shows it to you, looking very proud of himself - like a small child showing off a finger painting.

you look at the screen and you can't deny, it's a messy braid and it's very uneven, almost lopsided. but it's the prettiest braid you've ever seen, all because matt did it. “you did amazing, i love it.”

he sits next to you again and you rest your head on his shoulder. his fingers interlace with yours once more as you look up. the sunset paints the sky beautiful pinks and oranges. there's a few small clouds that if you stare at hard enough, could almost look like hearts.

he gives your hand a gentle squeeze, a loving gesture as you sit in comfortable silence, wishing this day would go on forever.

------------------------୨୧------------------------

𐙚 ࣪ ˖ tags: @chrissturniolosbitch @christhopersturniolo @mattscurlygirly @fratbrochrisgf @d3axplr @junnniiieee07 @rubyjaneaxx @remussbitch @sturnpooks @ribread03 @mattsfavbitchhh @blahbel668 @asherrisrandom @55sturn @joeblzy @ivysturnss @certifiedstarrr @stvrnzwrld @strnlslut @edwardscoldhands @emely9274 @strangelife122 @loveparqdise @meatballlover10 @lovevxle @conspiracy-ash

check out my masterlist for more!

join my taglist!

[majoryeager104]

Crush! Part 1 | Part 2

the x reader I mentioned at the end of this post!

I’m sorry this is so late Ik I said I’d write it same day and I DID but couldn’t finish it bc I was wracking my brain last second and my phone still has a screen time limit 💀💀💀 so then I was gonna finish and drop it last night, but then my dad went on a FOUR HOUR TANGENT ABOUT HISTORY. 😀😀😀 so once again I’m so sorry but

anywhoooo enjoy!

warnings:, pure fluff

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

It was an average day of sulking around the league hideout. Shigaraki, Twice, and Dabi were the ones currently present, and you were off on a job with Toga. Dabi had watched as you left, and decided not to disappear too until you got back. Maybe he was worried, or maybe he was keeping tabs on everyone. Even Shigaraki wasn’t entirely sure.

Anyways, the lot of them were chatting, with Dabi remaining quiet most of the time, at least until you were brought up. “Y/n’s been a great help since joining us!” Twice chirped, and Shigaraki quietly agreed. This caused Dabi to scoff. “Y/n can barely work alone, let alone be useful.” And that was when Twice got to work defending you.

“hey!! Y/n is a very hard worker!- you’re just jealous aren’t you- You know, I bet y/n would have loved to work with you on this mission! She likes you- she despises you SHUT UP”

Twice continued to argue with himself, and the other two went quiet, at least until Shigaraki turned to look at Dabi with a mischievous grin. Dabi bristled, stepping back. “Yeah whatever.” He snapped, turning on his heels and quickly leaving the room.

Maybe he was overreacting, maybe he was merely confused, but unlike everything else this team had thrown at him, he hadn’t expected this. You? Liked him? He scoffed at the thought as he walked down the street. Why was this such a bother to him? Why was he blushing so much? This was stupid. So stupid. You were stupid. Stupid for liking him, stupid for telling twice of all people- at least if you’d come and admit it to him yourself, Dabi could have let you down gently, he’s not a complete monster- but now he felt like he had no options to do so, and he wasn’t sure why.

So as he was walking down the street away from the hideout, and spotted you and Toga walking happily together through the crowds, he felt like he had no other option than to turn on his heels once again and go down the alley to his left, taking a detour because how the hell was he supposed to face you knowing you had feelings? It was embarrassing, and illogical, and the very thought was like a big nuisance pent up in his brain, he couldn’t stand it.

So, he lay low for a while, walking along the streets as it got later and later in the evening. He’d received messages from the league, asking for updates on where he’d gone, hell, he got one from you. Usually he appreciated your check ins- you were always so kind to him even over text- but now, your kind words felt nothing but heavy.

But wait.

he could use this, couldn’t he?

I know I mentioned he ‘wasn’t a complete monster’ earlier, and he’s not….but he is a bit of a menace. he could leverage your feelings, use that affection to achieve a few goals of his. Maybe it was terrible, sure, but it was the only way he knew of to push away the weird feelings he got just thinking about the idea of you liking him. It was becoming nauseating.

So, he walked back to the hideout, opening the door to the usual loud chatter of the group. Now he was noticing the way your head spun around to see him first, the way your eyes lit up and you smiled. Oh god, this was gonna be harder than he thought. But he straightened his jacket, and smirked in return, because it was worth a try, right?

and so you approached him, hoping for some small talk, which is when he realized that Twice hadn’t mentioned his little slip. Of course. So, he figured the best way to go about this, was to flirt.

Over the next ten minutes, he tried it, and came to understand that this wasn’t the greatest idea either. Between him leaning in way too close, smirking like an idiot to the point he was so embarrassed he resorted to fidgeting, and him seeing your raised brow and utterly confused and unaffected expression, it was clear that he had no chance of winning. It got to a point where you’d ended the conversation and walked away with a puzzled expression while he watched, his playful smirk disappearing, as well as the good mood he’d put himself in. He stared at the floor for another five minutes (real bro) before walking to his room, inevitably giving up.

It wasn’t until later, when you two had a job together, that he realized his ‘ideas’ were just big dumb mistakes. He’d dropped the flirtations and basically pushed the thought of your feelings to the back of his mind, hoping at this point that Twice hadn’t been serious. You got the job done, and he burned the place down. The two of you watched the fire quietly, and as he glanced back at you- to check for injuries if anything, he thought- and found you’d already been looking at him. Your eyes darted away and back to the burning building, a blush creeping across your face. You looked…adorable.

His eyes widened at the thought, but instead of thinking anything of it, he just chuckled at your expression, stepping a bit closer. No flirtations, no confusion, it was just you, and Dabi.

”you know…twice told me something real interesting earlier”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

part 2 coming soon bc I wanted to drop this at a reasonable time and didn’t finish😗😗😗

[qin-qin16]

Murder Time Trio as a poly... or something else

NOTE: This was supposed to be a relationship chart, but I couldn't find any that I liked, and I got frustrated trying to make one, SO I decided to do it in the form of text and headcanons and is slighty ooc because i can’t write them realistic, its against my policy

Before I elaborate on my thoughts about Murder Time Trio poly, I will present to you a summary of the BACKGROUND that I will use for my upcoming discussions about this trio.

In this post I share a bit about that thought and there is this au created by @what-have-i-unleashed named Mermaid Bunny AU, you can find it on their pinned post (is focused on kist in some parts, read the warnings before reading!)

However, since that post I made was more focused on Killer, I will also comment on the other parts of this relationship below!!

NOTE²: To avoid confusion, the first Killer will be called Kei (as a way to start fresh, he chose to abandon the name given to him after his code was altered), while the second Killer will simply be called Killer, as he has neither the desire nor the order to change the title given to him – a title his best friend, his partner, gave him. That being said, let’s move on to their background

HORROR'S ARRIVAL

Horror was the second to arrive, dragged by the slimy tentacles against his will – Kei vaguely remembers hearing his screams calling for someone, spitting threats at Nightmare as if he had no fear for his own life. He didn’t even notice his soul subtly writhing when Nightmare did nothing but toss the skeleton at his feet. "Show him his new home." Those were the orders he heard, and not even a minute later, they were already walking through the abandoned place (whatever it was, the hallways were too long to be considered part of a house, and the rooms were dark enough to make Horror question the things he saw inside them).

It wasn't for lack of trying that their almost-friendship was created – as fragile as a thin twig. Kei had been ordered to teach Horror everything he knew: what Nightmare liked to hear when they returned from missions, how to act when spotted by any resident of the universe they were exploring, what not to do when the hallways of their home (Kei called that dreadful place home, even though it was worse than the hell Horror said Snowdin was) seemed to grow darker and darker, how to ignore the torn and moldy paintings when they appeared to move in the shadows… Everything Kei had learned, he passed on to Horror, but like a mule being whipped to carry its load, Horror would always stall at the most important moments.

Like the time he screamed to go back home, for Nightmare to throw him back into the deep hole that was his past problems. Kei never heard Horror mention his old home again after that night – at least, not while Horror was conscious; only on nights when he finally fell asleep, so light that even the faintest sound would bring that red orb back to life. Of course, Kei knew this – who else but him would keep an eye on his copy to make sure he didn’t try anything stupid? He had to check and act as the loyal right-hand man he was. It wasn’t as if Horror was the only somewhat safe company for him there, no – he couldn’t allow himself to get attached to someone that he would abandon at the first chance he gets.

But Kei could be a little selfish, couldn’t he? Horror was selfish too when he claimed the least uncomfortable bed would be his when they were traveling, or when he shrugged whenever Kei questioned the disappearance of some witnesses who had seen them lurking too close to AUs near the Omega Timeline. Or when Horror got too close to his body on freezing nights, trembling after hours of walking through the thick snow surrounding their home. “This thing is warm.” He pointed at the circle in front of Kei's chest, seeming to hesitate – or not wanting – to call it a soul.

Kei could be selfish if Horror was the one to blame for making it impossible for him to sleep in separate rooms after that.

MURDER'S ARRIVAL

Horror never thought that a third member would be added to the chaotic and dysfunctional duo that was him and Kei. From what he could hear through the poorly closed and fallen door of the room where Kei and Nightmare often argued about their performance, the boss (even though Horror would never call him that) never mentioned anything about adding another screw-up monster like them to the group.

But it wasn't as if Nightmare cared about their opinion on anything, or even cared about their existence - as long as they stayed alive, that was enough.

Murder's entrance was so different from his, so much more... silent. No sudden movements, no explosion of LV, nothing but incomprehensible murmurs beneath that dark hood. If Horror thought Kei was unpredictable and full of weird traits, Murder had just stolen his place. It wasn't as if Horror was a healthy or sane person either, but Murder was an extreme even for him: clothes covered in monster dust, eyes — when lit — always twitching, looking side to side as if others were in the room besides the three of them.

And it was agonizing to see someone so similar to his former self — when there was no danger around them, or when Murder seemed to finally relax those pale bones, those two little lights would glow in white, in a nostalgic way. Horror didn’t like that feeling. Kei was another one who seemed out of place with Murder’s addition to their little group.

“You’re real…” he murmured between laughs — an almost undistorted reflection of himself.

It was hard to adapt Murder into their already chaotic and unpredictable routine, almost like caging an euphoric animal alongside two others already in captivity — the rare calm of before was quickly torn apart by Murder's trembling and impatient presence. As sadistic as the last one, Kei once commented, referring to Horror, who just scoffed and mumbled something like "don’t compare me to that..." It wasn’t a good start between them, definitely.

And no matter how much Horror tried to deny it and even fight with himself, he wasn’t so different from the other two. Nightmare’s motivation in handpicking each of them was clear — it almost had a bitter kind of charm to it, if it weren’t so inconvenient. At least he and Murder seemed to want to be as far away as possible from there, but Kei? Why was he so loyal to that demon?

Horror never knew Kei’s deep desire to escape that hell, to crush Nightmare’s rotten soul underfoot like an insignificant insect. At least, Kei never confessed it to them specifically. No, no.

"As if I care who you talk to outside of work..." Horror once huffed, sounding strangely genuine. "If you want to chat with that rainbow skeleton, that's your problem, don't drag us into your issues, capiche?" And so Kei did.

Part two is on their way~

[roxanne193018]

(In my ✨sentimental✨ moment, I have thought of a conversation, no plot included, just MC and Lucifer pillow talking with each other, I really like this conversation, I wanna draw it, but I’m too lazy for allat so… let’s just put it here in case I change my mind and wanna get my procreate busy)

.

.

Just another rare night of MC getting to meet Lucifer, as one is always getting caught in battles and one is getting worked up with all wounded patients from war.

L: What are you staring at, daughter of Solomon?

MC: Just your eyes. They are like the moon in a breezy summer night... But I've never seen them in tears.

...Have you ever cried? Did you shed your tears when He disappeared? Did you frantically look for Him like Gabriel? Went mad for Him like Raphael? Or cried out loudly like Micheal did?

L: ... Just a teardrop. That's all. No need to make a fuss of it if He himself decided it on his own will.

MC: Would sell my soul to the devils to see you cry haha.

Speaking of the devils, they also cried a lot when Solomon disappeared. When I go, I was hoping that someone, anyone, would cry like that for me.. But now I think of it, it will be much easier to leave if no one cries at all, I'll be so sentimental!

Fast forward to the day before MC leaves, as she is surrounded by devils' laughter and parties as she wishes, a tall figure in the background staring intently at her, remembering an old conversation only they shared.

"If I cry for you, will you stay a little bit more?"

[galaxymagitech]

Bleeding Heart

For @jasontoddweek2025 — Day 1

Drive | Time Travel | The Batmobile Tires

Summary: Jason may have escaped the traffickers that caught him, but he promised the other children that he’d save them too. Fortunately, Jason has a plan. Unfortunately, that plan involves attracting the attention of a dangerous vigilante by stealing his tires—and then bargaining for the trafficked children’s lives.

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne

Warnings: Child Trafficking, Fear of Rape/Non-Con (none actually occurs)

You can read it here or on AO3!

Jason’s ribs ache as he twists the tire iron, the remnants of a harsh beating. At least, Jason thinks, I’ve still got my wits about me. He’d shielded his head well, when the traffickers punished him for his disobedience. Although, given the sheer insanity of Jason’s current plan…it actually wouldn’t be that shocking if he did have a concussion.

Jason could run. It would be the smart thing to do. He could run and never look back. Spend a fitful night in his hideout, tossing and turning with guilt-ridden dreams, and then wake up and go back to eking out a living, slightly wiser than he was two weeks ago.

But Jason had promised. He’d held Fatima’s small, chubby hands in his own as the other children crowded around him. He’d sworn that he would do everything he could to keep them safe. He hadn’t sworn he couldkeep them safe. That was a longshot, and even Jason knew it. But he had promised to try. And anyway, Jason knows he could never live with himself if he left the others to their fates.

His mom always said he opened himself up too wide, that he was a bleeding heart. This must’ve been what she meant.

Carefully, Jason removes the second tire and begins to roll it away. He’s hiding this one in a different location from the first, in case Batman has already spotted him. No matter what, Jason has to keep his leverage, or he won’t even get an audience with the Batman.

See, everyone knows that the foster system is shit. Everyone knows about the trafficking rings, knows that children go missing from the group homes, knows not to go to certain shelters lest you disappear. Everyone knows, and Batman has never lifted a damn finger to stop it.

Not shocking, really. Batman, like the cops, exists to protect the rich. He never patrols Crime Alley. And well, everyone’s seen Robin’s costume—Batman obviously doesn’t care about stuff like this.

So Batman’s not gonna listen to Jason screaming for help unless Jason makes him listen.

The tires aren’t just an elaborate ploy for attention, though. They’re also leverage and—most terrifyingly—an audition.

Batman has no reason to break up the trafficking ring that, until a few hours ago, had held Jason captive. Jason will offer the location of the tires in exchange for Batman saving the other children, but he knows that won’t be enough. Not when Batman could just as easily beat the information out of him. As much as Jason postures, he knows that he’s a child—his bones snap so easily.

But Robin got old and disappeared. That means there’s a vacancy. By stealing Batman’s tires, Jason will show that he has the skills and courage to fill that position. And spunk. Robin has argued with Batman publicly enough that Jason knows Batman must like that.

Jason doesn’t want to be Robin. But it’s certainly a better deal than he’d get if trafficked. And if Batman breaks up the trafficking ring, everyone will know Jason squealed. Snitches don’t get stitches—they get days of torture and then a cold, wet grave at the bottom of the harbor. Working as Robin, at least, would keep Jason alive.

After stashing the second tire, Jason returns to the Batmobile, kneeling down and beginning to detach the third tire.

Only—

Jason freezes. Someone’s right behind him.

“Well…come to finish the job, boy?” The low, deep growl echoes through the alley. Jason looks up at the shadowy form looming over him and tries his very best not to tremble in fear. This is the plan, he reminds himself. “You’re going to give me back my tires,” Batman orders.

He hasn’t started beating Jason yet, so that’s a good sign. A sign that he’s willing to talk, that he’s at least somewhat…amused. Jason’s grip on the tire iron tightens. “You—you have to hear me out first,” Jason says.

Batman stares at Jason for a moment. He’s clearly not used to being contradicted by kids who aren’t Robin. “How about you return my tires, and then we talk.”

Talk. Yeah, right. Jason doubts there will be much talking involved, unless you count talking with your fists. “No,” Jason insists. “You help me, and then I’ll tell you where the tires are. Or else you’re never finding ‘em.”

Batman steps forwards. Jason begins to step back, but instead forces his left leg to remain still, turning what was a retreat into a solid fighting position. If he wanted, he could swing the tire into Batman’s stomach or knee with a decent amount of force and then run. Fat lot of good that would do, though, now that Jason has the Bat’s attention.

Well, that’s what he wanted, isn’t it?

“Help,” Batman echoes, white eye-lenses narrowed. Jason’s heard people say the Bat’s a demon, but he never believed them. Up close, Jason can see the man’s jaw, a hint of the human face beneath the cowl. No, he’s no demon. But Jason is jaded enough to know that men are far worse than any of the demons in his stories. Jason can’t banish Batman or trap him in a summoning circle or escape him with the right words. He has nochoice but to bargain—and since Jason has only a couple of tires and himself to trade away, he’s not optimistic about ending this negotiation with his own safety assured. “What do you need help with?”

Jason swallows. “There’s a trafficking ring. They got me, took me to the warehouse down on Fifth and Rupert. I escaped, but the others are still there. If you get them out, I’ll tell you where your tires are.”

Jason knows that the offer not enough. He expects Batman to reject it, to threaten Jason, to say that the only thing Jason will be getting in exchange for the location of the tires is his life.

But instead, Batman nods, expression blank. “Tell me everything.”

“They’re moving everyone at 1 AM.” It’s not one yet, Jason knows, but that’s only a few hours away. This plan was thrown together in desperation. “I was in there with fourteen other kids, but I think they’ve got more. Some of them were older, teenagers, but there were—some of them were really little.” Fatima couldn’t have been more than eight. “They’re moving people in trucks from some catering company.”

Batman nods. “Anything else?”

Jason tries to remember, but his thoughts are scattered by fear. “They’re tied up with the White Shark somehow,” Jason adds, eventually. He doesn’t know how, but…

Jason hangs around the working girls on one of the corners a block away from his hideout. They remind him of his mom, just enough that he can gain some small measure of comfort from their presence, and they trade information with him. But Jason had spent too long with them, and he’d been noticed. Their pimp, a member of the White Shark’s gang, had made Jason an offer he couldn’t refuse.

Jason had refused.

That hadn’t worked out well for him, obviously.

“Thank you for telling me this,” Batman says. “I’m going to fix this, I promise.” He pulls some weird gun thingy out of his utility belt, and for a single, fleeting, wonderful moment, Jason thinks that Batman is about to leave him here. It’s probably fair, to trust that Jason won’t run. Most kids would be too terrified. But Jason has guts—probably too much guts, to be honest—and he’ll run at the first opportunity. With those two tires, Jason can buy a ticket out of Gotham, can find another city where the White Sharks can’t track him down. And then, in four words, Batman sends Jason’s hopes crashing down. “Wait in the car,” he orders.

Jason’s gaze flickers to the nearby alley. He could still run. But…he’d get caught, and then Batman wouldn’t save the others. “Okay,” Jason says quietly. He lets Batman open the door to the passenger’s seat and sits down, knowing that he’s probably dooming himself. As Batman fires a some sort of metal cord from his gun—is that a grappling hook gun?—Jason hears the locks on the car door click shut.

Breathe, he reminds himself, aware of how his breaths are turning shallow. Just…breathe, Jason. Batman is going to help them. Batman is going to get them out.

For a price. A price that has to be more than just the location of the tires. And because Jason didn’t get a chance to make his offer, he has no idea just what that price will be. Or if he’s willing to pay it.

(He is, though. Willing to pay it. If it means that Fatima and Amy and Lucia and Yael get out, get saved, Jason is willing to pay the price. Could Batman see that in Jason’s eyes, when he tried to bargain for the other children’s lives?)

(Stupid bleeding, bloody heart.)

It strikes Jason instantly, the thing he was forgetting. The place where the traffickers beat Jason for trying to protect Beth, the place where kids disappeared to and sometimes didn’t come back. It was hidden in a nearby building connected to the warehouse by an alleyway. Batman won’t find it on his own. And by the time he returns to the car, the traffickers will have already triggered the evacuation. All the kids there will be gone.

And Jason can’t let that happen.

He has to get there and tell Batman. Now. But he’s locked into the car.

Jason climbs into the driver’s seat, but that door’s locked from the inside. He swings his tire iron at the windshield, but it doesn’t even crack. Desperately, Jason mashes at the buttons on the dashboard, but none of them do anything at all.

Maybe he can lower the windows? But no, trying that doesn’t do anything either.

Wait. The Batmobile has got to have an eject button, right? All the super cool cars in movies have eject buttons. And if Jason was designing a super cool car—and the Batmobile definitely fits that description—he’d make the eject button work even when the car was turned off. Never know when you need an escape route.

Crawling into the legroom, Jason squints and begins to inspect the passenger seat. And sure enough, he finds it, a small red button clearly labelled ‘eject.’ Jason sits in the seat, reaches down, presses the button, and shoots through the roof.

Literally. A metal sphere folds around Jason and the seat, the roof opens up, and Jason goes flying out. He rolls and rolls and rolls and, just as he thinks he’s about to vomit, the sphere unfolds, depositing Jason on the sidewalk. He stumbles and pukes right by a dumpster.

For a moment, Jason is struck by the sheer shock at what he just did.

And then he remembers why he needed to escape the Batmobile and takes off running.

***

Never let it be said Jason doesn’t know how to make an entrance.

He originally planned to wait outside the warehouse and tell Batman before the man tried to go back to the car (and then slip away in the middle of the ensuing fight). But Jason can’t help but watch from one of the high-up windows as Batman destroys the monsters who hurt Jason and the other kids, who planned to sell them like cattle. Justice in Crime Alley is rare. Plenty of people who have hurt kids never see the consequences. But today, these men do.

It's not enough. It’s not nearly enough. It shouldn’t be just these men. It should be all the traffickers, all the abusers, all the rapists. And Jason can’t help but notice that Batman never lands the killing blow.

But it’s something. It’s more than Jason ever thought he would get. 

And so, when Jason watches one of the few remaining traffickers break the catwalk away from the wall, watches Batman get taken by surprise and collapse under the wreckage, watches the trafficker aim his gun and line up the shot—

Jason can’t help it. He finds himself moving before he even makes a conscious decision. One second he’s watching from the window, and the next he’s sliding down the catwalk’s remaining metal support like a fire pole.

Jason is under four and a half feet tall, doesn’t even come up to Batman’s chest. But he takes the trafficker completely by surprise. Jason aims a kick at the man’s arm, forcing him to drop his gun, and then socks him hard enough in the jaw that he stumbles away—straight into the recently-recovered Batman’s fist.

“What are you doing here?” Batman growls. “I told you to wait in the car.

“There’s another building,” Jason explains breathlessly, resting his hands on his knees and breathing raggedly like he just finished a sprint. “Where kids disappear. You have to—you have to rescue them too.”

Batman nods sharply. “Where?” Out of the corner of his eye, Jason spots one of the traffickers twitching his hand towards his gun. Batman follow’s Jason’s gaze, walks over, and steps on the man’s wrist until there’s a sickening crack. Jason grins. He recognizes that man. He would taunt them, gleefully tell the younger children exactly what would happen to them, like he got off on their terror. Probably did.

Jason leads Batman into the alley, then points at the building where they took him to punish him for trying to protect the others.

“Stay here,” Batman orders. “I mean it. You’re untrained, and they’re armed.”

Jason nods. He looks back at the warehouse, where the traffickers are still unconscious, zip-tied and waiting for the cops. They’ll get off lightly. They might not even be punished at all.

Jason can fix that.

Batman grimaces, following his gaze. “I took out those criminals, but the children are still trapped. Go and get them out. And don’t go through the main room, or you could get yourself killed.”

Jason lowers his head and nods. He wants to walk through the warehouse’s main room and shoot the traffickers in their foreheads one by one. That way, they’d never touch another child again. But, Jason reminds himself, Batman is only bothering to rescue these children because of Jason’s deal with him. Otherwise, he would’ve rescued them long ago. If Jason doesn’t follow orders, one of the little kids could end up as the next Robin instead.

So, Jason goes straight to the shipping containers where he and the others were kept. One by one, he opens them. He was right—there were a lot more children than he thought. Around fifteen per container, and seven containers—

Jason’s gonna be sick. Again.

He focuses on the kids.

“It’s okay,” he tells them. “You’re safe, now.”

“Are you Robin?” A boy asks Jason. He’s probably a little older than Jason, maybe thirteen or fourteen, but he looks at Jason in wonder.

“No,” Jason says. “I’m one of you.”

Jason has just finished helping the kids out of the last container when Batman arrives. “The police will be here shortly,” Batman says. Some of the kids tremble. “Commissioner Gordon will be there. I trust him. He’ll make sure you’re all safe.” That helps a bit, but not enough. Batman frowns, and then kneels down by a young boy—maybe ten or so. Only two years younger than Jason, but it feels like a world of a difference. Jason resists the urge to throw himself in-between Batman and the child. “What is your name, son?”

“Luke,” the boy says shyly.

If Jason squints, Luke almost looks like Robin. Batman won’t try anything right now, Jason reminds himself. Not with all the kids watching. Plausible deniability has its limits, after all. “You’re safe now, Luke,” Batman says. “I promise.”

“Pinky promise?” Luke asks. Batman holds out his pinkie, locks it with Luke’s, and pinkie promises.

“I have to go now,” Batman says. “But you’ll be in good hands.” He turns to leave. For a moment, Jason feels himself relax.

And then Batman places a hand on Jason’s shoulder and he flinches, hard. Right. Jason still hasn’t told Batman where his tires are. And then, there’s the rest of the unspoken deal.

Batman steers Jason out of the warehouse, into the street. “You did well,” he says. Batman’s voice has lost some of its growl as he talked to the children. Jason isn’t sure what to make of that. “Now, son, where are those tires?”

Jason leads Batman to the tires’ hiding spots, the man’s gauntlet burning on his shoulder like a brand. It’s all in your head, Jason lies to himself. It’s just your shoulder. Give him the tires, and then you’re free. Give him the tires, and it’s over. (It’s never gonna be over. Not until Jason escapes or dies, and he’s betting on the latter.)

“Different hiding spots,” Batman notes. “Clever. What did you say your name was, again?”

Jason didn’t say. But Batman’s asking, and Jason can’t just not answer. “Jay,” he says, grudgingly. Harder for Batman to hunt him down again with a nickname.

“Jay…”

Jason swallows, shrinking beneath the hand on his shoulder. “Todd.” There. Might as well throw in his middle name while he’s at it. “Jason Peter Todd.” He tries to straighten his shoulders and say it proudly—it’s the name Mom and Dad gave him, after all—but he doesn’t think he succeeds.

Batman watches as Jason reattaches the tires. He goes twice as slow, the pressure causing his arms to tremble. It doesn’t help that his chest aches terribly with every twist of the iron. But Jason finishes, stepping back to let Batman see his handiwork. “Where are your parents, Jason?” Batman asks. His hand is on Jason’s shoulder again. Jason can’t run.

Jason summons up the last bit of bravado he has left. “I dunno where my dad is. Probably doing time again. Or maybe he’s just fucked off and died already. Wherever he is, I don’t care. And my mom’s—she got sick.” Batman just stares at him. “She died,” Jason clarifies.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

Yeah, right. Watching Jason carefully, Batman opens the passenger-side door of the Batmobile.

“Why don’t you ride with me?” Batman says, stepping aside and holding the door open.

It sounds like an offer, but it’s more of an order. Jason doesn’t have his tire iron on him to surprise Batman, and he’s too exhausted to run properly. So, he ignores the way his instincts scream runhidefight and sits down in the Batmobile. Batman sits next to him and starts driving.

“Who’s taking care of you?” Batman asks, after the car has pulled onto the road.

Jason knows where this conversation is going. It’s hurtling downhill like a runaway trolley. And Jason can’t divert it, because he already did. He pulled the fucking lever like an idiot, and that’s what got him here. He doesn’t even regret it, he’s that dumb. Because the other kids got out, at least temporarily. They have a chance. The ones that have parents have a chance, at least. “I take care of myself.”

“You’re a child,” Batman says. “You’re not safe on the streets. That’s how the traffickers got you.”

Jason rolls his eyes, but even that is half-hearted. “We’re in Gotham. Everyone knows foster care’s just a front for trafficking.”

“That’s not true.”

Jason crosses his arms. “I’m twelve, not two. You don’t gotta lie to me. You go in, you disappear. I spent a month there, okay? I know how it is.”

“I…see,” Batman says quietly.

“Yeah. So you can stop with the fairytale bullshit. No way I’d end up in a ‘decent home’ in the foster care system.”

Batman is silent for a moment. And then, he smiles. The image strikes fear into Jason’s bones. “Don’t bet on it,” Batman says, “…Robin.”

Jason’s stomach turns. He doesn’t—he doesn’t want—he’d thought—he just wants to be safe.

But this had been the plan since the beginning. This was something Jason had been prepared to sacrifice. He just—

It doesn’t matter. The others got out, and that’s enough. And Robin gets to help. Batman may not protect Crime Alley, but Jason as Robin sure can. He’ll be able to listen to all the children whose screams go unheard. That’s worth whatever hell Batman will put him through.

So, Jason forces a smile onto his face. “Robin?” He asks, trying to project enthusiasm. To his own ears, he sounds ill.

But to Batman, he must sound excited, because the man smiles. “Robin,” Batman confirms.

And in the passenger seat, Jason’s heart pumps and pumps and pumps until his body drains of blood.

[passionatelyxlust]

Focusing on Isabel's plan and stealing away Azriel temporarily dulled his emotions a little because any other distractions like the knowledge Lust made the difficult decision running with only his Prince at his side would have caused the slightest hesitation. Lust didn't have the time to think about how much he missed Gluttony, but the aching pit remained pulsing like a beacon that called out for his brother. "Of course I can hear you." The demon mumbled, confusion spreading along his facial features and in his vocal tone. Why would he not hear Gluttony? Does a dream world include the law prohibiting the one visiting another's dream from interacting with the person themselves if they weren't as experienced as a witch like Azriel? Whatever the reason for his surprise, Lust knew it involved what he witnessed in the mansion's chaotic arrangement. The demon gave his brother one final squeeze, even considering cracking another weak joke that Gluttony's hug was nearly squeezing the air out of his lungs, but his first joke didn't quite land the way he thought it would have in the past. Lust watched Azriel disappear, feeling his comforting presence through their bond before returning his attention on Gluttony. "Might be better that way not crossing paths with him. The guy's a dick sometimes and I say so with love." He and Azriel would receive the scoop on Kai's current residence soon enough when they returned home once the war has died down. For now, the silent pause breaking between the brothers gave Lust the moment absorbing the state of his sibling. Even in dream form, Gluttony appeared completely drained of the spark that made him who he was. The man Lust knew as well as himself. He could feel the sadness, the frustration, and the fatal-blowing anger emitted from him shared across the connection they carried. Three little words from Gluttony's mouth all but confirmed what Lust already knew. "I feared as much. It's always the King." Lust glanced between them, reaching out his hands to gently grip the other's closed fists, almost shocked he was now the person keeping his best friend calm. "He's not just making this personal, Gluts, he is slashing wounds and pressing down hard with his fucking finger." He could imagine who else the King has gone after, their punishments, but the severity of his brothers' damage paled in comparison to Gluttony. His voice and his souls, presumably including Josephine's, stolen and in the hands of a madman. "He did what?" Lust ground out with bubbling fury underneath his inflection. He mourned with his sibling, for him, and if anything can cause the demon wanting their King dead...it was this. The fucker can come after his more tempestuous of Princes, threaten to steal Azriel's life, but he does not shatter his brother and believe he can escape without consequences. "Gluttony, I'm coming home to you. I don't care if it places my life in danger, Az and I are returning. You needed me before and I shouldn't have abandoned you, what he did is my doing." His hands stretched forward and clutched Gluttony's shoulders, "I can't leave you to face this alone, Gluts. We're doing this together as we've always done."

Watching the two interact, he couldn't help but draw a parallel between him and his brother. Azriel always regarded him and Kai on the same level when protecting their sister, and they were. However, Kai protected him the most– and it often left Kai taking the penalties for both of them while Az tended to get off scot-free. He wasn't naive to think that the repressed anger wasn't just because of the coven's choices but because he took more onto his shoulders than he should have. A shuddered breath left Gluttony's lips, eyes widening, his voice quiet as he whispered, "you can hear me." Gluttony was so used to speaking in his mind, in his dreams, that he wondered if he was going insane or if he would be punished in his dreams, too, and forever be unheard. The Prince made no hesitation in wrapping his arms around Lust tightly like he would slip through his fingers and leave him on his own to crumble under the pressure. He knew how much he missed his brother, missed him with every fiber of his being, but seeing Lust again drove home the open chasm in his chest that couldn't be filled other than with the presence of his brother. His safety net and his other half. When Lust explained how he was there, Gluttony's brown eyes flicked to Azriel, mouthing a small 'thank you'. In response, the witch nodded, his gaze moving from between the two brothers huddling together before phasing out. Lust would feel Az never left, but they didn't need an outsider spectating. Gluttony's gaze moved back to Lust, a frown deepening on his face at the prospect of telling him what had happened that not even Lust's joke could make him tilt his lips upwards. He didn't know who he was anymore. Anytime the Prince looked in the mirror, the person looking back became more and more of a stranger. "I forgot he was there; we don't cross paths," Gluttony responded after a time before lapsing into silence, a silence that he was so accustomed to in his waking life that it seemed to carry over to his dreams now. It was better that he and Kai didn't cross paths, and while he was fine with the witch before, Gluttony wouldn't be able to handle him now; the Prince was finding out that there wasn't much he could handle anymore. He didn't know how to put into words what happened without breaking down when he realized... it'd be the first time he said it aloud what he'd endured at the hands of their King. Every other time he'd talked about it, he'd written it out... able to dissociate from the words like he was reading about someone else in a story, yet saying it out loud drove home that it was him. Broken, useless. "The King happened," he finally bit out, eyes dropping to his hands as they closed shakily into fists, "I guess he decided to clean house and I was first, figures since I snapped at him. I'm not the only one either; he's going through all of us." Gluttony's lips trembled as his eyes lifted once more to look into Lust's bright ones, shaking his head sadly. "He took everything from me, Lust. Took all of my damn souls," his voice cracked, causing Gluttony to press the heels of his palms into his eyes, but he couldn't stop the slow leaking of tears escaping through the cracks. "He took my voice. I scream and scream, and nothing comes out."

[xomakara]

When I Fall [Part 1]

SUMMARY | You're trapped in a loveless and childless marriage to Taeho, a divorced older man that is a friend of your father's. After fifteen years of marriage and no children of your own, Taeho starts to see other women since you're past your prime and can't give him heirs. One night, tired of your husband and his emotional abuse, you go out with some friends, get shit-faced drunk, and meet Jongho, a man fifteen years younger than you, that will change your life forever.

PAIRINGS |  Jongho x Reader

RATING |  Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked

GENRE |  smut, angst, drama 

CONTENT/WARNINGS | age-gap, step-cest, cheating, mentions of control and emotional abuse, mentions of drinking, profanity/strong language, kissing, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), dirty talk, fingering, oral sex, vaginal penetration, fingering, creampie, multiple orgasms, pregnancy, scandals

LENGTH |  11,110 words

TAGLIST |  @desirehorizon @sweetinsaniiity

NETWORKS |  @illusionnet @cromernet @k-vanity

@othersideoutlawsnetwork @ksmutsociety @dove-net

AUTHOR’S NOTE |  This was originally supposed to be a oneshot but thanks @kwanisms for beta-reading  and suggesting to make it a two shot instead. The ending was originally too rushed so having it be a 2-parter will let me be able to flesh the plot for the second half to be just as dramatic and scandalous as this part so I hope you come to read it! Also thank you @kpop---scenarios for beta-reading the original fic and also giving me some suggestions to add as well! Thank you @lovetaroandtaemin for the lovely banner! I really appreciate all you folks for helping me with the visual aspect and adding ideas~

The wine glass you held shook in your hand, your drink almost spilling into your lap. You couldn't count how many glasses you’d had tonight. Three? Maybe four? You let out a sigh. It didn't matter anyway. You just wanted to feel nothing. You didn't want to feel Taeho's disdain or the emptiness of a childless, laughterless house.

“Y/N, you okay?” Soojin asked, concerned.

You forced a smile and raised your glass. “Just having fun.” The lie tasted bitter, but you washed it down with more wine.

“You need this,” Jiwoo added. “You’ve been cooped up for ages.”

Ages. Fifteen long years.

Fifteen years of biting your tongue, of forced smiles, and enduring Taeho's cold indifference had chipped away at pieces of yourself you didn't know you could lose. It wasn't always like this at the beginning. Years ago, your family arranged a union between you and Taeho so he could enter the upper echelon of Seoul society. Taeho and his company helped fund your father's political campaign as the mayor. In turn, your father provided Taeho access into a more prestigious social circle. Taeho divorced his wife of nine years at the time, claiming that they fell out of love. But you knew he divorced her since she didn't come from a prominent family such as yours.

You never saw his ex-wife around much after the divorce. You knew he had a son but you only met him once when he was about nine or ten, months after your marriage to Taeho was official. You never saw him again since Taeho sent him abroad for boarding school.

When no children had appeared after five years of trying, Taeho blamed it on you. You tried, oh, you had tried for years. Doctors didn't know why it didn't work and neither did you. You took pills, ate a vegetarian diet, and all sorts of treatments, but Taeho berated you that nothing worked and blamed you for being "barren". He didn't want to divorce you, no you were far too valuable socially, and still could provide him with the perfect home. So while you remained, trapped, he'd fuck other women. You stopped caring, even though the emptiness threatened to consume you whole.

You were exhausted. So exhausted.

“Another round,” you called out, the waiter nodded and disappeared into the crowded bar. The dim lights, the scent of alcohol and perfume, and the sight of bodies pressed together on the dance floor filled you with envy. You longed for their freedom, their carelessness.

Laughter. Yours? Someone else’s? You couldn't care less as you lost yourself in the music, your body moving freely for the first time in years. And then you saw him, taller than you by a few inches, broad-shouldered, with a grin that made your heart skip. He exuded confidence, and his eyes met yours as if he'd been searching for you all night.

“Hey,” he said, his voice smooth and husky. He was close enough that you could smell the faint hint of cologne mingling with his sweat. Jongho, he introduced himself. All you could focus on was the way his gaze lingered, the way it made heat crawl up your neck.

“Careful,” Soojin whispered in your ear with a teasing tone. “He looks like trouble.”

Good, you thought, your fingers curling around Jongho’s as he pulled you closer. Trouble sounded better than the quiet despair waiting for you at home.

The rest of the night was a blur of touch and sound, of hands roaming and lips brushing against each others. You didn’t think about Taeho. Didn’t think about the consequences. There was only this moment, this man who made you feel wanted in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

When you woke the next morning, the sunlight streaming through the unfamiliar curtains. Your head throbbed, the taste of last night’s indulgences sour on your tongue. And then you felt it—the warmth of another body beside you, the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Jongho.

You panicked and then everything seem to come back to you. Memories of his hands on your waist, his mouth on your neck, the way he’d whispered promises you knew he couldn’t keep. Memories of kissing him nonstop, bouncing on his thick, hardㅡ

You tried to get out of the bedsheets that you were tangled in but his arm tightened around you, pulling you back against his chest.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. His breath tickled your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I should go,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The guilt was already settling in, heavy and suffocating. What have you done?

Jongho propped himself up on one elbow, his free hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. His expression was soft, almost tender, but there was something in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite place.

“Stay,” he said, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “Just a little longer.”

You shook your head, pulling away from his touch. “I can’t.” 

The weight of what you’d done pressed down on you, the guilt sharp and unrelenting. You needed to go home, to face whatever was waiting for you there.

Jongho’s hand lingered in the air for a moment before he let it drop, his expression shifting into something more neutral. 

“Alright,” he said simply, sitting up and running a hand through his tousled hair. He didn’t press, didn’t try to convince you to stay, and for that, you were grateful. "Can I at least get your number?"

You exchanged phone numbers without hesitation, a tiny voice inside whispering that it was wrong. Despite being married, you'd given your number to a stranger, pretending it was simply to stay in touch. But his smile as he thanked you and left his contact information was so handsome...  

Scrambling out of bed, you searched for your scattered clothes. Jongho's silent gaze followed you, heavy with unspoken words. Fully dressed, you hesitated at the door, your hand on the knob. This had been a mistake, a lapse in judgment, and you refused to let it define you.

“Take care of yourself,” Jongho said finally, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, almost kind, but there was a distance in his tone that hadn’t been there last night.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, and opened the door. The hallway outside was dimly lit, the early morning light filtering through the windows at the far end. You stepped out, closing the door behind you, and took a deep breath.

The walk home was a blur, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic storm. What would Taeho say? Would he even notice you’d been gone? The questions gnawed at you, but there were no answers, only the cold reality of what lay ahead.

As you approached your house, the familiar facade loomed like a silent judge. You paused at the gate, your heart pounding in your chest. This was it. Time to face the consequences of your actions, whatever they might be.

With a shaky breath, you pushed open the gate and walked inside, steeling yourself for whatever awaited you.

The days after that night with Jongho passed in a haze. Your husband, Taeho, was, as usual, distant and dismissive, barely acknowledging your presence except to criticize or complain. The weight of your guilt pressed down on you, but so did something else—something darker, hungrier, more unsettling. You tried to push it away, bury it under the monotony of your daily routine, but it lingered like a shadow at the edges of your mind.

Then, one evening, your phone buzzed. You glanced at it casually, expecting another mundane notification. But what you saw made your breath catch in your throat. It was a photo from that handsome man.

Jongho and a photo of his hard cock.

Your eyes widened, and your heart began to race. The image was unmistakable: thick, veined, and erect, resting against a backdrop of plain white sheets. Below it, a message: “Can’t stop thinking about you. Want to meet again?”

You stared at the screen, your fingers trembling slightly. Part of you wanted to delete the message instantly, to pretend it never happened. But another part of you—a part that had been dormant for so long—stirred awake. The memory of that night flooded back: his hands on your skin, his lips against yours, the way he made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t in years.

Before you could stop yourself, you typed a reply: “Why are you doing this?”

The response came almost immediately: “Because I want you. And I think you want me too.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. He wasn’t wrong. The truth clawed at you, undeniable. You wanted him. Craved him. Even now, just the thought of him sent a flicker of heat through your core.

“This is dangerous,” you replied, your fingers moving almost of their own accord.

“So is staying in a marriage that makes you miserable,” he shot back.

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. He wasn’t saying anything you hadn’t already thought, but hearing it laid bare like that—it was jarring. You felt exposed, vulnerable. And yet, there was a strange relief in it, too. Someone else saw it. Someone else knew.

“What do you want from me?” you asked, your fingers hesitating over the keys.

“You. Just you,” he answered simply. “Meet me tonight. Let me show you how good it can be.”

Your mind raced. This was insane. Reckless. Dangerous. And yet, the idea of seeing him again—of feeling that fire once more—was intoxicating. You glanced toward the living room, where Taeho sat immersed in his work, oblivious to the turmoil roiling inside you.

“Where?” you typed before you could talk yourself out of it.

He sent an address, followed by: “Wear something sexy.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. You moved through the motions of dinner and conversation with Taeho, but your thoughts were elsewhere. Later, as you dressed in the dim light of your bedroom, your hands shook as you fastened the clasp of your bra. You chose a simple black dress, one that hugged your curves in all the right places—not too revealing, but enough to make you feel confident. When you added a touch of perfume, your reflection in the mirror looked almost like a stranger.

This is really happening, you thought, your stomach twisting with nerves and anticipation.

You slipped out of the house quietly, leaving Taeho engrossed in his nightly routine. The cool night air brushed against your skin as you walked to the address Jongho had given you. It was a sleek, modern building in a trendy part of town, far removed from the quiet streets you called home.

When you arrived, Jongho was waiting outside, leaning casually against the wall. His eyes lit up when he saw you, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his face. “You came,” he said, his voice low and husky.

“I shouldn’t have,” you replied, though the way your body reacted to him—the way your pulse quickened, your skin tingled—said otherwise.

He stepped closer, his gaze sweeping over you. “But you did,” he murmured, his hand brushing against yours. “And I’m glad.”

You hesitated, torn between guilt and desire. But when his fingers interlaced with yours, pulling you gently toward the door, you didn’t resist. Inside, the apartment was stylish and minimalist, lit by soft, ambient lighting. He led you to the couch, his touch firm but tender.

“You look amazing,” he said, his eyes lingering on you as you sat down. “Better than I remembered.”

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, but before you could respond, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that stole your breath. It was deep, hungry, electric. Every nerve in your body came alive, and you found yourself kissing him back with equal fervor.

His hands wandered, exploring your body with a confidence that left you weak. He pulled away just long enough to murmur, “Let me see you,” before slowly unzipping your dress. The fabric slid off your shoulders, pooling at your waist. His eyes darkened as they roamed over your exposed skin, and his fingers traced the curve of your collarbone.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice raw with desire.

"Wait..." you pushed away from him slightly. "How old are you exactly?"

"Twenty-four. Why do you ask?" Jongho answered in a rasp, eyes wandering. "Does that... bother you? That I'm much younger?"

You pursed your lips. You hadn't expected him to be that young. It should've bothered you—after all, Taeho was twenty years older than you were—but there was something alluring about the youthful vigor Jongho possessed.

"It doesn't bother you that I'm fifteen years older than you? You don't want to be with someone more... your age?" you asked cautiously.

"I don't care about our age differences," Jongho shrugged, lifting his index finger and running it down the edge of your jaw.

"It's different though—"

"How? You told me that you're married to someone twenty years older than yourself and he sees other women besides. Tell me how is that any different," he cuts you off with a frown.

He's right. Your husband had affairs left and right while you were home alone, stuck raising yourself. And each time you tried to end things, Taeho would guilt-trip you and say how your father would be disappointed since his political and social ties benefited both yours and Taeho's families. And after so many years, married to your father's friend, you were resigned to living with your unfaithful spouse and being a trophy wife for his events and parties.

Tears fill your eyes at the realization and you suddenly want to feel something other than loneliness.

Jongho tilts his head and reaches out to run his fingertips along the creases of your jaw. He has a curious expression. "What if I can help you forget him for a few hours...?" Jongho husked. "Help take your mind off your troubles."

"Just for a few hours?" you echo, your gaze darkening as the question dances on the edge of your lips. "What if I wanted more...?"

"All you have to do is say the word," he promises.

His smile grows, and the way its slow curve travels across his face sends shivers down your spine. He trails a hand from your jaw to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer. You feel the warmth radiating from his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, and it makes you dizzy.

“Say it,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours “Tell me what you want.”

You hesitate for a moment, the weight of your decisions pressing down on you. But then, the memory of Taeho’s cold indifference floods your mind, and something inside you snaps. The guilt, the shame, the years of loneliness—they all dissolve under Jongho’s gaze.

“I want more,” you whisper, your voice trembling with desire.

Jongho doesn’t need any further encouragement. In one swift motion, he lifts you off the ground, his arms strong and sure around you. You let out a startled laugh, but it quickly turns into a gasp as he carries you towards his bedroom. The world blurs around you, and all you can focus on is the way his muscles flex beneath his thin shirt and the warmth of his breath against your neck.

He kicks the door open with his foot and sets you down gently on the edge of his bed. The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting shadows across the walls. You glance around nervously, your heart pounding in your chest. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this kind of intimacy, and the vulnerability is almost overwhelming.

But Jongho doesn’t give you time to dwell on your fears. He kneels before you, his hands sliding up your thighs and sending a jolt of electricity through your body. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and intense, and you can see the hunger burning within them.

“Relax,” he says softly, his voice like velvet. “Let me take care of you.”

His hands move higher, pushing your dress up around your hips. You bite your lip, feeling exposed and yet incredibly alive. His touch is deliberate, every movement calculated to drive you wild. When his fingers finally brush against the lace of your panties, you can’t help but moan.

“So sensitive,” he teases, his breath hot against your skin. “I wonder how much more I can make you squirm.”

Before you can respond, he leans in, pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh. The sensation is electric, and you involuntarily arch your back, craving more. He chuckles softly, the sound reverberating through your body as he continues to trail kisses along your legs.

When he reaches the apex of your thighs, he pauses, looking up at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Is this where you want me?” he asks, his voice low and husky.

You nod frantically, unable to form coherent words. The anticipation is driving you mad, and you can feel the heat pooling between your legs. Satisfied with your response, Jongho hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and slowly pulls them down, tossing them aside without a second thought.

The cool air hits your core, making you shiver, but his mouth quickly replaces it, warm and insistent against your most sensitive area. You cry out, your hands gripping the sheets for dear life as his tongue flicks against your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

“Oh god,” you moan, your hips bucking against him. “Don’t stop…”

He doesn’t. Instead, he takes you deeper, his tongue exploring every inch of you with expert precision. You’re lost in the sensations, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge. Your breaths come in short, ragged gasps, and you can feel the tension building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until it’s unbearable.

Just when you think you can’t take anymore, Jongho pulls away, leaving you whimpering in frustration. He stands up, towering over you, and begins to unbutton his shirt. His movements are slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. When the shirt falls to the floor, revealing his toned chest, you can’t help but reach out to trace the lines of his muscles with your fingertips.

He catches your hand, intertwining your fingers with his as he leans down to kiss you deeply. The taste of yourself on his lips is intoxicating, and you eagerly deepen the kiss, your tongues dancing together in a heated embrace.

When he breaks the kiss, you’re both panting, desperate for more. Jongho smirks, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. “Lie back,” he commands, his voice firm but gentle.

You comply immediately, lying back against the pillows as he climbs onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs. He takes a moment to admire the sight of you, spread out before him, completely vulnerable and utterly irresistible.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his hands running up your sides, tracing the curves of your body. “I could spend hours worshipping you.”

You blush at the compliment, feeling a surge of confidence despite your nervousness. Jongho notices your reaction and smiles, leaning down to capture your lips once more. This kiss is softer, more tender, and it makes your heart ache in the best possible way.

As the kiss deepens, his hands continue their exploration, mapping out every inch of your body with a reverence that leaves you breathless. His fingers glide over your breasts, teasing your nipples until they harden under his touch. You gasp into the kiss, your hips instinctively grinding against his.

“Please,” you beg, breaking the kiss to look him in the eye. “I need you… now.”

Jongho groans, his self-control slipping as he positions himself at your entrance. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice strained.

You nod, your nails digging into his shoulders as you pull him closer. “Yes. Please, Jongho… don’t make me wait any longer.”

With a final, lingering kiss, he pushes inside you, filling you completely. You cry out, your body instinctively wrapping around him, pulling him deeper. He starts to move, slow and steady at first, allowing you to adjust to his size. But soon, the pace quickens, his thrusts becoming harder and more urgent. Each one drives you closer to the edge, your moans growing louder with every passing second.

“You feel incredible,” Jongho growls, his hands gripping your hips as he pounds into you. “So tight… so perfect.”

You can barely think straight, your entire being focused on the sensations coursing through your body. Every nerve feels alight, every movement bringing you closer to the brink. When his fingers find your clit again, rubbing small circles against the sensitive nub, it’s all too much.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure radiate out from your core. Jongho follows close behind, burying his face in your neck as he spills himself inside you, his moans muffled against your skin.

For a moment, everything is still, the only sound in the room is the heavy breathing of two people who have given themselves completely to each other. Then, slowly, Jongho pulls out, collapsing beside you on the bed.

You lie there, your bodies tangled together, basking in the afterglow of your passion. But even as you try to catch your breath, a thought lingers in the back of your mind: What happens next?

Jongho seems to sense your uncertainty. He turns to face you, propping himself up on one elbow as he studies your expression.

“Hey,” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Talk to me. What are you thinking about?”

You hesitate, unsure if you should voice your concerns. But the warmth in his eyes encourages you to be honest.

“This… us. What does it mean?” you ask, your voice tinged with vulnerability.

Jongho’s gaze softens, and he pulls you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “It means whatever you want it to,” he replies, his tone reassuring. “We can take this as slow or as fast as you need. All that matters is that you’re happy.”

You feel a lump form in your throat, overwhelmed by his kindness and understanding. For the first time in years, you feel truly seen and valued.

But before you can formulate a response, Jongho’s phone buzzes loudly on the nightstand. The sound startles you both, and he reluctantly lets go of you to check the message.

His expression changes as he reads it, his brows furrowing in concern. “I’m sorry,” he says apologetically, “but I need to take this. It’s important.”

You nod, though you can’t shake the uneasy feeling that settles in the pit of your stomach. As Jongho steps out of the room to answer the call, you’re left alone with your thoughts, wondering if this newfound happiness is too good to last.

"We have that charity gala tonight and it is imperative that you and I are in attendance," Taeho barks at you as he stomps around the living room, pulling items off the end tables and collecting the empty glasses on the coffee table. "We made the commitment months ago and our attendance is required. This is not an optional event."

"I know Taeho," you sipped your coffee and leaned back against the sofa. "Your suit for the gala is hanging in your room and your shoes have been polished. All that's left for you to do is to style your hair and wear the watch and cufflinks that I got you."

"And did you purchase a dress?" Taeho peered at you, placing the empty glasses on the table by the large armchair in front of the fire. "An appropriate one for your status?"

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and nodded. "I have it all under control," you sighed, "like I always do."

"What a dutiful wife you are," Taeho scoffed sarcastically, giving a half-assed chuckle, before turning serious. "Your father is coming over today to discuss a campaign that has started up with the opposing party. Make sure lunch is at its usual time and the maid has set the dining room accordingly," he huffed, "I don't need your father to chastise me for having a messy home."

"Yes Taeho," you replied, finishing your mug and moving into the kitchen.

When the doorbell rang, you heard Taeho shout for you and you went to open the door for your father. "Hi, daddy," you smiled warmly and leaned in for a hug.

"My little girl," your father chuckled warmly. "You look tired," he whispered to you as the maid took his coat and hat. "A woman of your caliber should always take care of themselves. If you ever need some money for a spa day, let me know," your father sighed softly. "I can only imagine the burdens of maintaining this house."

"Thank you, but that is what I have the maids for," you muttered politely. "Besides, you're busy and need to be taken care of too, daddy."

"Your mother makes sure I have all my meals prepared for me at the right times," he grinned at you and looked past you as Taeho approached. "Ah, Taeho, you look... aged, no offence."

"You too, my friend," Taeho laughed and the men hugged, clapping each other on the back. "I do hope the mayor's job has treated you well over the years."

"It has! Very busy but fulfilling," your father chuckled.

"Good, that's good!" Taeho nodded and moved towards the door to the kitchen. "Well, why don't we discuss some things over lunch hm? Shall we?"

Your father looked at you with concern etched in his wrinkles and nodded slowly. "Will you be joining us, Y/N?" he inquired. "I would love to catch up with my daughter and see what she's been up to."

"Not today, daddy," you shook your head. "I have a lot to prepare for the gala. You two enjoy your meal and I will see you later, alright?"

"Fine," he muttered and kissed the top of your head before following Taeho towards the dining room. "I'll see you later this evening, sweetheart. We will chat more then."

Once Taeho and your father disappeared into the other room, you let out a loud sigh, massaged your temple and made your way towards your bedroom to get ready for the night's charity gala.

Hours later, you stood in front of the mirror adjusting the straps of your emerald green, sparkling evening dress. It clung to your body in all the right places and revealed just enough skin that would turn a man's gaze your way. Taeho hated when you drew too much attention, but tonight, you needed the escape.

"A little form fitting for my taste," Taeho grunted as he fumbled with the buttons of his cufflinks. "But it will do. Come and assist me with the cufflinks."

You stepped into the bedroom and strode over to him. You slipped the first cufflink in and stared at him. "Did you have a nice afternoon with daddy?" you inquired softly, turning his hand gently and securing the second cufflink in place.

"Yes, it was very informative," Taeho grunted. "Nothing to worry your pretty, little head over," Taeho muttered. "Now let us go, I don't want us to be late."

The venue was a sprawling ballroom filled with the city’s elite. Crystal glasses clinked, laughter echoed off the high ceilings, and the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume. You clung to Taeho’s arm as he schmoozed with donors, forcing yourself to smile and nod at the right moments. His grip on your elbow was firm, almost possessive, and you felt the familiar weight of suffocation pressing down on you.

And then you saw him.

Jongho.

He stood near the bar, dressed in a sleek black suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and lean frame. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the room seemed to tilt on its axis. His eyes met yours, and you could tell from the way his jaw tightened that he was just as shocked to see you as you were to see him.

Taeho didn’t seem to notice your reaction. He steered you towards the bar where Jongho was, his voice booming with false cheer. 

“Ah, there he is! My son,” he said, pulling you closer as if to emphasize the word my. “Jongho, come meet my wife.”

Son. 

The word echoed in your head like a cruel joke. Your legs threatened to give out beneath you, but somehow, you managed to stay upright. Jongho approached slowly, his expression unreadable. Up close, you could see the tension in his jaw, the faint tremor in his hand as he extended it to greet you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said smoothly, though his voice held a subtle edge. His fingers brushed against yours, and even that brief contact sent a jolt of electricity through you. You forced yourself to look away, afraid that one more second of eye contact would betray everything.

“Likewise,” you murmured, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. Taeho, seemingly oblivious to the storm brewing between you and Jongho, clapped his son on the back.

“Jongho’s been living abroad for the past few years,” Taeho explained, his tone dripping with pride. “He’s finally decided to come home and take over the family business. Isn’t that right, son?”

Jongho nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “Yes, Father. It’s time I took on more responsibility.”

You felt like you were drowning. The man who had held you in his arms just days ago, the man who had whispered sweet nothings into your ear, was now standing in front of you as your stepson. The irony was almost too much to bear.

The rest of the introductions passed in a haze. You couldn’t focus on anything except the heat radiating from Jongho’s body, the way his gaze lingered on you whenever Taeho wasn’t looking. When Taeho excused himself to speak with another donor, you found yourself alone with Jongho.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was heavy, charged with unspoken questions and desires. Finally, Jongho broke it, his voice low and urgent. “We need to talk.”

You glanced around nervously, making sure no one was watching. “Not here,” you whispered. “It’s too risky.”

He nodded, his jaw tightening again. “Then when? Where?”

You hesitated, torn between fear and longing. “I… I don’t know.”

Jongho stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “Don’t shut me out,” he said softly, his eyes pleading. “Not after what we shared.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You wanted to reach out to him, to feel his arms around you once more, but the reality of your situation kept you rooted in place. “Jongho, this… this changes everything.”

“It doesn’t have to,” he insisted, his voice firm. “We can figure this out. Together.”

Before you could respond, Taeho reappeared, his loud voice cutting through the tension. “There you two are! Come, let’s get a photo for the press.”

You forced a smile, allowing Taeho to position you between him and Jongho. As the camera flashed, you felt Jongho’s hand brush against yours, his fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. The contact was fleeting, but it was enough to reignite the fire burning within you.

As the night wore on, you found yourself stealing glances at Jongho whenever you could. Each time, he seemed to be watching you too, his eyes dark with an intensity that made your heart race. The forbidden nature of your attraction only made it more irresistible, and you knew you were teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

Finally, as the guests began to leave, you spotted Jongho slipping out onto the balcony. Your pulse quickened. Without thinking, you followed him, the cool night air doing little to calm the heat rising in your chest.

He turned as you approached, his expression a mix of relief and frustration. “I was hoping you’d come,” he admitted, his voice rough.

You stepped closer, your hands trembling at your sides. “Jongho, we can’t… this isn’t…”

He cut you off, closing the distance between you in one swift movement. His hands cupped your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. 

“Tell me you don’t feel this,” he demanded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me you don’t want me as much as I want you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat. How could you deny it when every fiber of your being was screaming for him? Without thinking, you reached up, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him closer.

His lips crashed against yours, hungry and desperate. The kiss was electric, sending sparks shooting through every nerve in your body. You melted into him, your hands roaming over his shoulders, his chest, anywhere you could reach. His grip on you tightened, as if he were afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

When you finally pulled away, gasping for air, you realized the gravity of what you’d just done. 

“This… this can’t happen,” you whispered, though your body betrayed your words, leaning into his touch.

Jongho’s eyes burned with determination. “It already has,” he replied, his voice fierce. “And it will again.”

The car ride home was stifling. The silence between you and Taeho was thick with unspoken tension, the weight of the evening pressing down on your chest. You stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past, but your mind was elsewhere—on Jongho, on that kiss, on the way his hands had felt against your skin.

Taeho cleared his throat, breaking the silence. 

“Jongho will be moving in with us,” he said, his voice calm but firm, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Your stomach dropped. 

“What?” you managed to choke out, tearing your gaze from the window to look at him. His face was expressionless, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

“He needs a place to stay while he gets settled,” Taeho continued, as if this were some mundane detail about groceries or bills. “And I think it’s time he reconnects with his family.”

The word "family" echoed cruelly in your mind. You wanted to scream, to object, to reveal the truth about that night with Jongho, the message, the balcony. But your throat tightened, silencing you, and you could only swallow hard and nod.

“He’ll start calling you mother,” Taeho added casually, as though he were discussing the weather. “It’s only proper, after all.”

Mother. 

You opened your mouth to argue, to say anything, but the words wouldn’t come. What could you even say? That you couldn’t bear to hear Jongho call you that? That it would remind you of what you’d done, of what you still wanted to do?

You looked away, gripping the edge of your seat so tightly your knuckles turned white. The rest of the ride passed in silence, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional honk of a passing car. When you finally pulled into the driveway, you felt numb, like you were floating outside your body.

Taeho got out first, not waiting for you. You followed slowly, dragging your feet as if delaying the inevitable might somehow change it. Inside, the house was quiet, but there was a new presence in the air—a tension that hadn’t been there before. You hesitated in the foyer, unsure of where to go or what to do.

“Jongho will be here tomorrow,” Taeho said, tossing his keys onto the table. “Make sure his room is ready.”

You nodded quietly, your mind racing. His room. The guest room, the one downstairs, far enough from yours to give the illusion of propriety but close enough to make your heart race. You wondered if Jongho would feel it too—the pull, the magnetism that seemed to draw you together no matter how hard you tried to resist.

That night, sleep was impossible. You tossed and turned, your thoughts consumed by Jongho—his smile, his touch, the way he’d kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered. And now, he’d be living here, under the same roof, calling you mother. It was madness, a cruel twist of fate that you couldn’t escape.

The next morning, you woke up exhausted, your head pounding and your nerves frayed. You dressed quickly, avoiding your reflection in the mirror. You didn’t want to see the guilt etched into your face, the longing you couldn’t hide.

By mid-afternoon, the doorbell rang, and your heart leapt into your throat. You took a deep breath, smoothing your hands over your skirt before answering the door. There he was, standing on the doorstep with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, looking as effortlessly handsome as ever.

“Mother,” he said, the word slipping off his tongue like honey, sweet and dangerous. His lips curved into a smirk, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“Jongho,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. He stepped inside, brushing past you, and the air between you crackled with electricity. You closed the door slowly, trying to steady your breathing, but it was no use. The moment you turned around, he was right there, closer than he should have been.

“This is going to be… interesting,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. You shivered, your pulse quickening as his hand brushed against yours.

“We can’t—” you started, but he cut you off with a look, his eyes dark with desire.

“Can’t we?” he whispered, his voice low and teasing. You glanced nervously toward the stairs, half-expecting Taeho to appear at any moment, but the house was silent.

Before you could stop yourself, you reached out, your fingers grazing his. He responded instantly, his hand closing around yours, pulling you closer until your bodies were almost touching. His other hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

Tell me you don’t want this, his eyes seemed to say, and you knew you couldn’t. Because you did. More than anything. But the rational part of your brain screamed at you to stop, to push him away, to remember who you were and what was at stake.

But then he kissed you, and all those thoughts evaporated. His lips were soft but insistent, demanding a response you couldn’t deny. You melted into him, your hands sliding up his chest, tangling in his hair. His grip tightened, pulling you even closer, until there was no space left between you.

When he broke the kiss, you were breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. 

“This is wrong,” you whispered, though your body betrayed your words, leaning into his touch.

“Is it?” he asked, his voice husky. He pressed another kiss to your lips, softer this time, more tender. “Or is it just… inevitable?”

The tension between you and Jongho hung thick in the air, unresolved yet undeniable. Every glance, every accidental brush of hands as you moved through the house felt like a spark waiting to ignite. Taeho’s announcement of a family dinner that evening only deepened the unease.

“Jongho,” Taeho called from the study, his voice carrying an authority that made your stomach knot. “You’ll join us for dinner. I want to discuss the future.”

Jongho glanced at you, his eyes dark with unspoken words. This is dangerous, your mind screamed, but your body betrayed you, heat pooling low in your belly as you remembered the way his lips had claimed yours just hours ago. He nodded, his expression carefully neutral. “Of course, Father.”

The day stretched on, each hour crawling by as you tried to keep yourself busy. You straightened the living room, polished the silverware, anything to distract yourself from the storm brewing inside you. And all the while, Jongho lingered, his presence like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

By the time dinner rolled around, the table was set immaculately, the aroma of the meal filling the air. Taeho took his place at the head of the table, authoritative as ever, while you sat across from Jongho. The distance felt insurmountable yet too close all at once.

As you passed the dishes, your fingers brushed against Jongho’s, sending a jolt through your system. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, his eyes burning with something primal, something forbidden. You quickly looked away, but the damage was done. 

Taeho cleared his throat, breaking the silence. 

“I’ve been thinking about our family,” he began, his tone serious. “It’s time we start planning for the future. Jongho will be taking on more responsibilities in the company, and you,” he turned to you, his gaze piercing, “will need to support him as his mother.”

You forced a smile, nodding obediently. “Of course, Taeho.”

Jongho’s jaw tightened, his fork clinking softly against his plate. He didn’t look at you, but the tension in his shoulders was unmistakable. 

“Father,” he said carefully, “I appreciate your confidence in me. But I’m still learning. There’s no need to rush things.”

Taeho waved a hand dismissively. “Nonsense. You’re more than capable. It’s time we solidify our legacy.”

Dinner dragged on, the conversation stilted and formal. You barely tasted the food, your senses hyper-aware of Jongho’s every move. When Taeho finally pushed his chair back and announced he was retiring to his study, relief flooded you, though it was short-lived.

“Don’t forget to clear the table,” he said as he left, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You mechanically gathered the dishes, the clattering of plates and the hum of the refrigerator the only sounds in the silent kitchen. 

Jongho rose beside you, his movements measured and slow. “Are you okay?”

You froze, the question hanging heavy between you. No, you wanted to say. None of this is okay. But instead, you nodded, keeping your eyes locked on the sink. “I’m fine.”

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “You don’t have to pretend with me.”

Your breath caught, your pulse quickening. “We can’t do this,” you whispered, though every fiber of your being screamed otherwise. “He’s your father.”

“And you’re not my mother,” he shot back, his voice firm. He reached out, his hand brushing against your arm, sending shivers down your spine. “You know what this is. What we are.”

You turned to face him, your resolve crumbling under the intensity of his gaze. This is wrong, your rational mind protested, but your body leaned into his touch, craving the connection you couldn’t deny.

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. Both of you jumped apart, your hearts racing. Taeho appeared in the doorway, his brow furrowed.

“What’s taking so long?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two of you.

Jongho straightened, his mask of composure slipping back into place. “Just finishing up, Father.”

Taeho grunted, clearly unconvinced, but he made no further comment. “Don’t dawdle. There’s work to be done.”

He disappeared again, leaving you both standing there, the weight of his suspicion hanging over you.

Once you were certain he was gone, you let out a shaky breath. “This is impossible,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Jongho’s hand found yours, squeezing gently. “Nothing worth having is easy.”

His words sent a thrill through you, but the fear of discovery lingered. “We’re playing with fire,” you warned, though you didn’t pull away.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Then let’s burn.”

Heat surged through you, your resolve wavering. This is madness, part of you knew, but the rest of you didn’t care. The pull between you was too strong to resist, the promise of passion too tempting to ignore.

But before either of you could act, the sound of Taeho’s voice calling for Jongho shattered the moment. You stepped back hastily, your chest heaving as you tried to steady your breathing.

Jongho hesitated, his eyes locking with yours one last time. “Later,” he promised, his voice low and full of intent.

Then he was gone, leaving you alone in the kitchen with your thoughts spiraling. Later. The word echoed in your mind, a promise and a threat all at once. You didn’t know what would happen next, but one thing was certain: you were teetering on the edge of something dangerous, and there was no turning back now.

The days following Jongho’s arrival were a strange mix of tension and anticipation. Taeho’s announcement at dinner had only deepened the unease, but it also left you with a lingering sense of curiosity—and dread. Every glance exchanged with Jongho felt charged, every accidental brush of hands sending jolts of electricity through your body. You tried to remind yourself of the consequences, of the chaos this could unleash, but the reckless part of you didn’t care.

It was a quiet afternoon when Taeho dropped the news. He stood in the living room, his suitcase already packed, and announced he would be leaving for a business trip the next morning. 

“I’ll be gone for three days,” he said, his tone as matter-of-fact as ever. “Jongho will stay here. I expect you both to manage things while I’m away.”

You nodded, keeping your expression neutral, but inside, your heart raced. Three days alone with Jongho. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying.

Taeho’s departure the next morning was almost too easy. He gave you a curt nod and reminded Jongho to keep an eye on the household affairs before heading out the door. The moment it clicked shut behind him, the air in the house seemed to shift. It was just you and Jongho now.

For the first hour, you busied yourself with mundane tasks—tidying up, making tea, anything to avoid being alone with him. But fate, or perhaps something else, had other plans. Jongho found you in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you stared blankly at the stove.

“Nervous?” he asked, his voice smooth and teasing.

You turned to face him, your cheeks flushing despite yourself. “Should I be?”

He stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours. “That depends on you.”

There was a boldness in his eyes that made your breath catch. You knew what he was implying, and though every rational part of your brain screamed at you to walk away, you couldn’t. Not when he was looking at you like that.

“Jongho…” you started, but your voice trailed off as he closed the distance between you.

His hands rested on the counter on either side of you, caging you in. “Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmured, his lips dangerously close to yours. “Tell me, and I’ll stop.”

You couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come. Instead, you reached up, your fingers brushing against his cheek. That was all the encouragement he needed.

His lips crashed into yours, fierce and demanding. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the way his chest pressed against yours, and for a moment, nothing else mattered. Not Taeho, not the consequences, not the guilt that lingered at the edges of your mind.

Jongho’s hands slid down your sides, his touch sending shivers through you. When he lifted you onto the counter, you barely had time to register what was happening before his lips were on your neck, trailing hot kisses along your skin. You arched into him, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands explored further.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, his voice husky with desire.

His words sent a thrill through you. Beautiful. How long had it been since someone had said that to you? Since someone had looked at you the way Jongho was looking at you now?

You tugged at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours. He obliged, pulling it off in one swift motion, and then his hands were back on you, unbuttoning your blouse with practiced ease. When his fingers brushed against your bare skin, you gasped, the sensation almost too much to bear.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low and intense.

You hesitated for just a moment, but then you nodded. “Yes.”

That single word seemed to unleash something in him. He kissed you again, harder this time, his hands roaming freely over your body. When he finally slipped your bra off, you felt a rush of vulnerability mixed with excitement. His mouth found your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple, and you let out a whimper.

“Jongho…” you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders.

He didn’t respond, too focused on exploring every inch of you. When his hand dipped lower, sliding beneath the waistband of your skirt, you tensed, your hips instinctively bucking against his touch.

“Relax,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ve got you.”

And somehow, you believed him. As his fingers found their way between your thighs, you let go, surrendering to the pleasure he was giving you. Each stroke, each caress, built the tension inside you until you were teetering on the edge.

“Jongho, I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat as he added another finger, pushing you over the edge.

Your body shook with the force of your release, your vision blurring as waves of ecstasy washed over you. Jongho held you steady, his arms strong and reassuring, until the tremors subsided.

When you finally opened your eyes, you found him watching you with a mixture of pride and hunger. “Still nervous?” he asked, a sly smile playing on his lips.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Not anymore.”

He kissed you again, softer this time, before pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. “Good. Because we’re just getting started.”

Before you could respond, he scooped you up in his arms, carrying you towards his bedroom. “Jongho!” you squealed, half-laughing, half-protesting.

“Trust me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. And for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you did.

He carried you effortlessly and set you down on the bed with surprising gentleness. He undressed the rest of your clothes slowly, peppering your skin with light kisses as he exposed each new part of you. By the time you were fully naked, you were trembling with anticipation.

Jongho ran his hands over your body, worshipping every inch of you. A low hum rumbled deep in his chest, and a smile spread across his face. You shivered, suddenly feeling shy under his scrutiny.

Before you could speak, he kissed you, and any thoughts of embarrassment faded away. He explored every curve, every line, leaving no part of you untouched. You moaned, arching into his touch. Your nails dug into the sheets, grasping at anything to ground you, as his thumb brushed against the most intimate parts of you.

He pulled away only long enough to free himself of his remaining clothes, and your eyes raked down the planes of his toned, muscular body. As he knelt over you, your gaze locked onto his, and you saw the same hunger reflected back at you. You reached for him, and he lowered himself onto you, his chest pressed firmly against yours. His cock was hot and heavy between your thighs, and you instinctively shifted your hips towards him.

"Impatient, aren't you?" Jongho whispered, his breath warm against the shell of your ear.

"Jongho, I need..." your words trailed off into a gasp as he rocked his hips, rubbing himself against your clit. "Oh god, I need you."

"How much?" he asked, his eyes burning into yours.

"So much,” you grabbed his ass, trying to pull him closer.

He smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "Good, because I need you too."

"Really?" you asked, your heart pounding.

"Always," he whispered as he pushed inside you.

Your nails dug into his back as he filled you up. He waited a moment, letting you adjust to his size, before starting to move. Your head spun with the sensation of it, every thrust sending waves of pleasure through you.

"You feel amazing," he grunted, his lips pressing hot, urgent kisses to your skin. "So wet for me."

Your breath hitched as he hit that sweet spot deep inside you. "Please, Jongho, don't stop."

You had no idea where this was going to go. Part of you, the rational part, screamed at you to end it here, to call a stop and walk away. This was dangerous, it knew, but it felt too good to be wrong.

Your toes curled as the pleasure built, a delicious tightness coiling in the pit of your stomach. Jongho's hand slipped down to rub slow, firm circles over your clit and the combination nearly made you come undone.

"Jongho, I—" you gasped. Your body began to shake as you came.

He gritted his teeth, trying not to cum himself as the feeling of you convulsing around his cock almost tipped him over the edge. As soon as you came down, he slipped out of you.

"Why'd you stop?" you asked.

"Don't want to cum just yet, we're just getting started," he said.

Jongho sat up, shifting so that he was sitting against the headboard and patted his legs. "Want you to ride me," he murmured before claiming your lips again.

You let him guide you, swinging a leg over to straddle him. His lips traveled to your neck as you lowered yourself, grinding your pussy on his thick, hard member, coating him in your slickness.

Jongho nipped at your skin, mumbling praises as he peppered light, gentle kisses. "Need you," he moaned into your neck, sucking on your pulse and letting you know you left your mark.

"Oh fuck," you gasped, picking up your movements and pulling him closer.

He was big, filling you up and stretching you in a way that you'd never experienced. It was hard to believe that he was Taeho's son; you never saw this kind of sexual expertise from your husband, not in a lifetime.

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze with an openness you weren't familiar with. For the first time, you took a moment to just look at him.

He looked back with a hungry gaze, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist while the other roamed up your sides, then cupped your face as he kissed you. You felt yourself melting into him, into this whole thing that had gotten entirely out of hand. You had always told yourself you weren't the cheating type, yet you were right there doing just that, riding your husband's son in ways you could hardly have imagined doing before tonight.

"You okay?" Jongho asked gently, studying your expression.

"More than okay," you hummed. "I feel perfect."

And it was the truth, no matter how insane it was. You leaned into him, gripping his shoulders as you rode his cock. "I can't remember the last time I felt this happy," you muttered.

It wasn't the sex. Sure, the sex was incredible, but there was something deeper that made you feel so whole. Like something had fallen into place, like something had made the clouds disappear to show the stars. It was dangerous, but you couldn't stop.

"This, us, it's insane but I can't stop," you panted. "I don't want it to end. Ever. I'm scared we'll have to hide once your father returns and—"

Jongho kissed you, tenderly and lovingly.  "Shh, it's okay. We'll figure it out together," he said soothingly. "Forget everything else tonight. Right now, it's just you and me. No one else."

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped from your lips. "No one else...just us."

"Just us. I'm yours, and you're mine," Jongho spoke between kisses, trailing his lips down to your collarbone where his teeth scraped your skin lightly, sending a shiver down your spine. "No one else."

"No one else..." you breathed, losing yourself in the feeling of him inside of you.

The conversation paused as he bounced you faster on his length, pulling another long moan from you. Then he took your face in his hand and stroked your cheek.

"God, you're perfect. The most gorgeous thing I've ever laid my eyes on," he mused, bringing your lips to his. He gave you a searing kiss and tugged at your bottom lip before pulling back. "What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me."

You pressed your forehead to his. "Keep fucking me," you begged. "Fuck me so hard and deep."

"I've got you." He flipped the both of you, never slipping out of you. "Gonna take care of you," he growled into your ear. "Going to keep your pussy so stuffed."

God, you weren't used to a younger, virile man treating you like a sex goddess. You were the wife of one of the richest men in the country, and your husband refused to fuck you for years now. And suddenly you were with his son, and god, he was fucking amazing.

With both of his palms holding down your shoulders to the bed, he pounded hard and deep into you. The sound of your skin slapping together sounded down the hallway, but neither of you cared.

"Oh, fuck, sweetheart," Jongho hissed. "Gonna keep your cunt stuffed with my cum. Make you so full, fuck a baby into you..."

"God yes, Jongho," you mewled. 

You couldn't get pregnant, you knew that already. But the idea of being completely ruined by this young man made your heart sing with delight. You wanted nothing more than to be a mother. You always dreamed about a home filled with kids and laughter. You were thirty-nine, far past the ideal time for starting a family, but the thought of having a child with Jongho didn't scare you as it would if Taeho were your baby's father. You'd be far happier having your firstborn with someone who actually gave a shit. Someone loving and attentive, even if he was years younger than you.

"Tell me you want it," Jongho groaned into the crook of your neck, pressing sweet and soft kisses along your heated skin. "Say yes."

You bucked against Jongho's hard thrusts, whimpering from the overstimulation. 

"Yes, fuck, I do. Want it, want you, all of it, all of you," you chanted, words slipping past your tongue, leaving a bittersweet trail of its remnants.

Your words only drove him to be faster, rougher, harder. His pace was maddening, but exactly what you craved. It wasn't long until the familiar buzz started to make itself known in the pit of your belly. Your toes curled and fingers clawed the sheets as the first shock of your release rippled through you, making your pussy clench hard around Jongho's thickness.

"F-fuck, oh god, Jongho," you gasped.

Jongho kept going, his hand cupping one of your bouncing breasts and the other grabbing you by your neck. "That's it, beautiful. Cum all over this fat cock of yours," he grunted, pushing deeper in you.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck," you sputtered incoherently, eyes screwing shut as your orgasm wracked you.

As you came, you felt him thrust once, twice before finally bottoming out deep into your cervix and cumming in hot spurts. He stilled, allowing his seed to travel inside you, as deep as he could push. You could feel yourself spasm around him, your orgasm seemingly never ending.

His pace gradually slowed to a stop, both of you just trying to catch your breath. When Jongho lifted his head and glanced down at your limp, sweaty form, he pressed a sweet kiss to your temple, easing his weight off your smaller body to allow you room to breathe. You couldn't help but giggle weakly.

"God, you're amazing," you complimented. You winced, though, as he slowly slid himself out, the friction against your sensitive walls making you squirm a little. Jongho laid beside you and propped his head on one arm, the other running down your side, holding onto you. 

You hummed, eyes slipping shut, not quite hearing Jongho's soft confession. "I think I love you."

The nausea hit you like a wave, sudden and unrelenting. You’d been feeling off for weeks—fatigue that clung to your bones, a lingering queasiness that no amount of ginger tea could soothe. At first, you dismissed it as stress, the weight of your secret life with Jongho pressing down on your shoulders. But this… this was different.

You leaned against the cool tile wall of the bathroom, taking deep breaths to steady yourself. Taeho hadn’t noticed anything amiss, too preoccupied with his business dealings and late-night meetings. But Jongho… he’d caught the faint tremble in your hands, the way you’d pushed your food around your plate during dinner last night. 

“Are you okay?” he’d asked, his voice low with concern. You’d brushed him off, laughed it away, but now, alone in the quiet of the house, you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

You knew you couldn’t go to your usual doctor. The risk of Taeho finding out was too great. Instead, you made an appointment at your maternal family’s hospital, a place where your name still carried enough weight to ensure discretion. The drive there felt surreal, the city streets blurring past as your mind raced with possibilities. What if it’s just a virus? What if it’s something worse?

The waiting room was sterile and quiet, the hum of fluorescent lights adding to your anxiety. When your name was called, you followed the nurse with robotic steps, barely registering her polite chatter. The exam room was colder than you remembered, the paper gown scratchy against your skin. The doctor, a woman with kind eyes and a calm demeanor, ran through the standard questions. How long have you been feeling this way? Any other symptoms? When was your last period?

That last question made you pause. You couldn’t remember. It had been so long since you’d even thought about it. 

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The doctor nodded, jotting something down on her clipboard before ordering a series of tests.

The wait for the results felt endless. You sat on the edge of the exam table, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, trying to steady your breathing. When the doctor returned, her expression was unreadable. She closed the door softly behind her before turning to face you. 

“Well,” she began, her tone measured, “the good news is, you’re perfectly healthy. The nausea and fatigue are likely due to—”

“Due to what?” you asked, your voice trembling.

The doctor smiled gently. “Due to your pregnancy.”

For a moment, the words didn’t register. They hung in the air between you, heavy and impossible. 

“P-pregnancy?” you stammered, your mind reeling. “But… that’s not possible. I was told I couldn’t conceive.”

“Sometimes,” the doctor explained, her tone soothing, “miracles happen. Based on your test results, you’re about eight weeks along. Congratulations.”

A baby. Jongho’s baby. 

The implications crashed over you like a tidal wave—Taeho’s reaction, your family’s expectations, society's judgment. And yet, beneath the panic, there was a flicker of something else. Something warm and hopeful. A tiny flame of joy that refused to be extinguished.

You left the hospital in a daze, the doctor’s instructions and prenatal vitamins tucked into your bag. The world outside seemed brighter somehow, the colors more vivid, the sounds sharper. You needed to talk to Jongho. He deserved to know. But how would he react? Would he see this as a blessing or a curse? And how the hell were you going to explain this to Taeho?

When you arrived home, the house was eerily quiet. Taeho was away on another business trip, and Jongho was… well, you weren’t sure where he was. You wandered aimlessly through the rooms, your mind racing with thoughts and fears. Finally, you found yourself in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you stared out the window at the garden.

“Hey,” Jongho’s voice startled you, and you turned to see him standing in the doorway, his brow furrowed with concern. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. How do you even begin to tell someone something like this? Sensing your hesitation, Jongho crossed the room in a few quick strides, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders. 

“Talk to me,” he said, his voice soft but insistent.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “I… I went to the doctor today.”

His frown deepened. “Is everything okay? Are you sick?”

You shook your head, your fingers twisting nervously in the hem of your shirt. “No. Not sick. I’m… I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—a smile so radiant it made your heart ache. 

“Are you serious?” he asked, his voice filled with wonder.

You nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Eight weeks.”

He let out a breathless laugh, pulling you into a tight embrace. “This is incredible,” he murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re going to have a baby.”

His joy was contagious, and you felt yourself relaxing into his arms, the tension in your body melting away. But then, the reality of your situation came rushing back, and you pulled away slightly, looking up at him with worried eyes. “What are we going to do about Taeho? About… everything?”

Jongho cupped your face in his hands, his gaze steady and determined. “We’ll figure it out. Together. No matter what happens, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Do you mean that?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“Every word,” he replied, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. “You’re mine. This baby is ours. And nothing,nothing, is going to take that away from us.”

You wanted to believe him, to let yourself get lost in the promise of his words. But the weight of your secret pressed heavily on your chest, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that the storm was only just beginning.

[ninjagood4]

— Everything around is somehow distant and… unreal. Like an illusion. And I am just a doll, led by emotions. A doll in a green kimono, which was once worn by a person better than me… — But… you are that person.

9 years — Little Lloyd will appear in several flashbacks, some of the moments we have already seen in the original series and some will be added not to the detriment of the canon of course. A younger Lloyd will also appear in flashbacks, namely at age 4, when the conversation turns to how he was sent to Darkley's Boarding School for Bad Boys and why.

17 years — After Crystalized, the next four years passed quietly. Lloyd tried to build a relationship with Harumi and spent most of his time with her, but it ended miserably for him after only a year of dating, as she was uncomfortable being with him after everything and decided to let go of the past and start life anew. After that, Lloyd started to have a difficult streak in his life, depressions and stresses, and every new loss and emotion only provoked Oni side. Harumi used to help him distract himself from bad emotions, they went on dates, gave gifts and just supported each other, but now she wasn't around. Misako, Wu, the ninja and especially his father helped him to keep his head up, and he did feel better until Master Wu died a year later. Garmadon returned to his lonely life, Misako immersed herself in research, Pixal returned to Cyrus Borg, and the Ninja were about to split up due to evil simply disappearing from the world. But it all ended with Lloyd forbidding the Ninja from splitting up, and due to his fear of becoming evil, he trained the Ninja every day so that they could confront Lloyd's Oni in the future. This split was the last straw for him, causing Lloyd to degenerate and withdraw into himself.

21 years — Although Lloyd trained the ninja, he himself only gave instructions and did not perform any tricks, which he did not even have the strength for over time. Candy and other treats always cheered him up, so Lloyd found solace in eating and watching TV all day, leaving the room only to rudely command the ninja what to do, and then returning to his comfort zone. All this changed Lloyd not only in appearance, but also in moral and combat terms. After two years of such a life, he noticeably gained weight, became very rude, lost his temper at every little thing, and even began to show indifference to friends and the outside world, although he understood that the situation was getting out of control. The ninja tried in every way to captivate him, offered to play outdoors or just chat, but Lloyd felt more vulnerable than ever and perceived this as a threat.

In one moment Agatha and Leo find the Monastery of Spinjitzu in the hopes that the ninja from the book of legends will help save her home from occupation. The ninja decide to do this and convince Lloyd to lead the mission, who treats Agatha with maximum contempt and mistrust, because she reminded him very much of Harumi. When the ninja were traveling on the Bounty at night through the Valley of Mountain Fires in search of Agatha's village, the ship was attacked and eventually the team crashed. This led to Jay and Cole getting lost, Kai, Zane and Nya being captured by bandits, and Lloyd, Agatha and Leo remaining unnoticed near the ship. Lloyd was the only ninja left on this journey, but this time he was absolutely not prepared to fight both physically and mentally. He simply could not imagine that he would ever pick up a weapon again, while the trained ninja were tied in shackles.

Soooo… these are just images for the Wiki infobox, but I thought it would be cool if I showed not only the characters (who I'm currently adapting for the final style of FotP), and also talked a little about the events. I'll do this for each one, since I need to get a lot of images for the pages so that people have a general introduction to the picture, despite the fact that it's still a work in progress. I don't talk about the Wiki now, but want to attract people there when I rewrite the information and put it in order (it's written based on old information, and haven't written about many things yet).

And yes, Future of the Past introduces a timeline of events, and considering that I'm trying to create a kind of fan sequel to the original Ninjago, trying to do it as well as possible, interestingly, and so that it simply evokes nostalgia and warms the soul! Even between the pilot and plot my au there are 12 years, purely symbolically, because the original series itself is that old :) Previously, I even tried to parody the WildBrain style for this, but it turned out to be unrealistic for a comic, so I chose this one. Of course, it doesn't look like what we've seen before, but… why not? “Future of the Past“, because it tells about the future of past. And just… there are many life lessons that I want to bring here, so that this story is not only interesting, but also teaches something.

I'm want to introduce new elements carefully, so that everything harmonizes with each other. In the end, even though Lloyd has changed in appearance, I'll make sure that it's unnoticeable and, on the contrary, dilutes his character. Wu died, but he will appear as a ghost and will help Lloyd (which will only make Lloyd think that he is going crazy (Agatha will not let him do this xD)). The storyline of Nya and Jay will develop brightly, considering that Nya will be in captivity and Jay will be free, which will make them remember how dear they are to each other. Old characters will appear (like Zane's falcon), some designs will reference old ones (like the Bounty), there will be a lot of flashbacks, and most of the new characters' stories will intersect with the events of the pilot season. The events of the Dragons Rising are also taken into account, I just made it so that after the Merger of worlds was created parallel universe, and each of them has a different history (same beginning - different continuation). Damn, I just wanted to create a small text book and abandon it right away, but… love blinded 😂😭

In the future I will create such posts for others, and at the same time will tell their story ^^ Of course, Agatha will be next, considering that she is a new character, I would like to cover her too (well, just take wiki-page one by one and start with my favorites lol)

[moosemink]

Working alone looks different

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ CH5 - The Two-For-One ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Pairing: No actual Romance just some mentioned, JayRoy | TimKon | BirdFlash Characters: Batfam | Justice League Word count: 3.680 A/N: Almost done with cross posting this now. Time flies c.c AO3 Masterlist for W.A.L.D.

Shazam, Green Lantern and Flash were chatting comfortably in the common room. They had come back from a mission an hour ago and had decided to skip the debrief and eat dinner together instead. They had grabbed a heap of food from Big Belly Burger on their way back and were now eating, glad that Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman were all off world so nobody would mind them doing as they pleased for now.

Hal was eyeing Flash suspiciously as his fries had yet again depleted faster than they should. It was his second pack of fries but all together he had only eaten barely a handful of the greasy potato goodness. Barry just gave him a confused look that said 'What did I do now?'. Hal just shook his head, ''Stop stealing my fries, man.''

''Sorry Glowstick, it's just so easy.'', Hal jumped up from the couch, startled by Red Robin's amused voice right next to him. Barry and Shazam were in the same boat as they too were unaware of the Bats presence.

''SHIT ! FUCK ! Whyyy do you guys always have do this ??'', Barry whined from the other side of the room, which he had found himself in before he even realized why he had been startled.

The teen vigilante simply laughed at the heroes' grievance and continued working on his priced treasure, his laptop. Sprawled out in a position Hal was sure couldn’t be comfortable for anyone with bones.

''Fuck you.'', Hal plainly stated as Flash sat back down, Shazam let out a surprised laugh that quickly turned into amused giggles as Red Robin simply flipped Hal off in response. Hal scowled at the captain while sitting back down, now aware of the Bat next to him. He leaned forward to grab one of his burgers but was yet again interrupted. By yet another Bat.

The other Red Bat, Red Hood came half crashing into the room as he abruptly slid to a stop from his full sprint. He immediately zeroed in on his brother. His words carried an alarming sense of urgency with them,

''Replacement ! The baby bird got himself kidnapped.''

Hal took in a sharp breath and jumped to his feet, Barry and Shazam following suit. They were all very alarmed by the man's words and very confused by Red Robin's reaction to a baby having been kidnapped. His reaction being basically nonexistent as he kept typing on his computer and just raised one eyebrow as he spoke, ''He'll probably be fine. Why'd you come here, Cass is home right ?''

''He still has a broken leg, Cass is out with a friend and-'' Hood seemed to steel himself for his next words, ''N got wind of it.''

Red Robin froze. He slowly raised his eyes to meet Hood’s, pure terror on his face. Hal felt his blood go cold at seeing a Bat look afraid. ''Who is N ? Is he one of your villains ?'', he found himself asking.

His question earned him a snort from Hood and Red alike. ''He's about to be if we don't stop him.'', Hood seemed to turn his words over in his mind, ''Help him, there is no way we can stop Dickwing. His baby bird ‘s in ''danger'' after all.''

''True that.'', Red said as he jumped over the couch, laptop swiftly disappearing somewhere. He exited the room quickly, returning after just a heartbeat in his suit. Hal realized that this was the first time he had seen the teen in something other than sweat pants and t-shirts. He noted that the air around the teen Bat was just as intense as Batman's usually was before a very serious mission. The energy was mirrored by Hood. Hal and Barry shared a concerned look, ''We'll come too.'', he said with determination.

Determination that quickly died at the twin Batglares™ he received. “We could be useful ?”, Barry hesitantly added, though it was more of a question. Hal could feel the scrutinizing look they received from Red Hood even through the helmet. It lasted for a little longer than comfortable, not that it was comfortable for even a second, then Red Hood turned to look at his brother, then to Hal’s shock the ex crime lord started to chirp. Hal had to do a double take as he couldn’t believe his ears. It was possibly the most terrifying chirping the lantern had ever heard. Red Robin answered with a few bone chilling chirps of his own and Hal realized that they were talking with one another.

An image of Batman being taught bird langue by a small sparrow, though the caped crusader probably preferred ravens or bats.

“Fine.”, Hood drawled after a moment, “You can come with, but and I want you to actually listen to me, don’t do shit unless either one of us tells you to.” The young vigilante’s words left no room for compromises. “If I say jump, you say ?”, Hood asked them in a tone that brought Hal instantly back to his military days.

“How high ?”, Barry tried but just received a scoff from Red Robin.

“You don’t say shit, you move.”, Hood drawled in a warning tone. A shudder ran down Hal’s back. Who ever this N was, they were definitely not to be taken lightly. With a glance to the side Hal knew that Barry was about to faze through the floor with how much he was shaking. He gently placed a grounding hand on the speedster’s shoulder.

“Since that’s out of the way, let’s get moving.“, Red Robin stated with a tone a teen shouldn’t be allowed to use. He took a step forward before turning around with a confused look. “You not coming Captain ?”

Captain Marvel had silently floated to the common room’s exit. Hal hadn’t noticed but the man looked terrified, though he tried to hide it. “I- I don’t wanna get in your way, this seems pretty high stakes and I really should go and sleep and you know, all of us would probably be overkill and-“

“It’s fine cap,” Hood cut of the heroes rambling. Said hero quickly left before the Bat could change his mind. Everyone stood still for a moment as they tried to process Shazam’s unusual reaction. Hal guessed that the man might’ve just used up most of his energy already and didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of the Batbrats. As Hal and Barry followed close behind the Bats towards the Zeta he felt a brooding regret in the back of his mind at choosing to volunteer his help.

——————————

Hal felt very validated in his feelings of regret as the harsh, potentially (read: definitely) acidic rain of Gotham stabbed him with what felt like a million needles. Hal was pretty sure that 1) acid rain shouldn’t actually hurt and 2) Gotham’s acid rain was definitely not something he ever wanted to come in contact with ever again.

With a glance to the side he felt again validated, this time by Barry’s pained expression and narrowed eyes. The speedster was suffering just as much as he was. The two Bats though seemed completely unaffected. Hal yet again realized that Gothamites were a different breed of human. They just had to be.

He would’ve chalked it up to them being Bats but the few people that were outside, that Hal spotted as they ran across rooftops, were just as unbothered. Most of them weren’t even carrying an umbrella and had at most a hat or hood to ward off the rain. Hal shook his head in disbelief, he then almost got a bit too up close and personal with the floor as the two Reds came to an abrupt stop at the ledge of a warehouse’s rooftop.

Hal and Barry shared a glance before approaching the ledge as well. Hal then followed the gaze of the two young vigilantes and landed on a silhouette, crouching on the ledge of a rooftop a few roofs away. He held his breath as Hood motioned for the person to come over.

Said person stood up and just stared at them for a moment, Hal felt a shiver run down his spine and the urge to flee as if he was a pray animal that had been cornered. Red Robin just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms as the Person did an elaborate flip of the ledge and promptly disappeared.

With a screech from Barry they then reappeared behind them. Hal briefly wondered if he had ever heard of a hero or villain with the ability to teleport but his thoughts were cut short as Hood spoke, “Dickwing, you know why we’re here.”

Dickwing- or whatever his actual name was because Hal really hoped that it wasn’t that, answered Hood with a tone that could cut diamonds, “I know why you came, but why are they here ?” With the last words the man, clad from his neck down in black only interrupted by a blue bird insignia, gestured towards Hal and Barry. His gaze felt cold even through the dark blue domino mask he was wearing. This skill coupled with the black hair and air of familiarity between the Bats and the newcomer made something click in Hal’s mind. “No…”, he muttered under his breath and instantly all eyes were on him.

“No, what ?”, Hood drawled.

It then seemed to clicked for Barry too as he answered for Hal, “You’re one too.” Barry shook his head in disbelief.

“I’m a what ?”, asked the man in question, his tone unamused.

“Another Bat.”, Hal simply stated. A heartbeat and then both Red Robin and Red Hood barked in laughter. The newest discovered Bat, tried to keep his stoic expression but he too started to laugh at Hal’s and Barry’s incredulous expressions.

“I’m indeed another Bat. Name is Nightwing, but you should know that.” Nightwing paused before turning to the other two Bats, “Unless… he didn’t tell them, did he ?” His voice was icy and disappointed.

“Nope, we’ve been having fun just turning up out of nowhere and introducing ourselves that way. It’s been a wild few weeks.”, Red Robin explained while grinning a shit eating grin.

“B can be glad that I’ve been busy with the Titans the past few weeks then.” That statement made Hal pause. He knew about the Titans. But he had never heard of a Nightwing being part of them. And he said just that out loud without meaning too.

“A member? Honey I founded the Titans. I’m their Batman, though I’m much better than B. Way less emotionally constipated.”, Nightwing grinned cockily as he swung an arm around Hal’s shoulder.

“Now to much more important matters ! If we wait any second longer I promise you guys I will give in to my true nature and I’d rather not explain to Gordon why half of Gotham’s underworld has spontaneously cancelled their subscription to life.”, Nightwing might’ve smiled while saying those words and one could’ve mistaken his words as a joke but it was clear to Hal that he was completely serious by the way Hood and Red Robin quickly shifted to be combat ready. Hal decided that it would be best to put any questions on hold and with a look to Barry his friend seemed to agree.

There was no signal, or maybe the lantern just missed it, the three Bats just promptly dove of the roof together and with three quiet thwips, Hal recognized as grappling guns, swung towards a set destination. Barry and Hal scrambled to follow them and just barely made it in time to see the start of the fight. Or more like the non lethal carnage that the Bats left behind as they moved through the Warehouse. They had simply exploded right through the front doors.

The two non-Gotham heroes could only knock out a handful of leftover goons that had been lucky enough to escape the Bats and the few that had surrendered. Hal mused if health insurance was part of the standard Gotham-Goon-Contract as he watched the gruesome beat down happening before him. He watched as the Bats seamlessly danced around one another as they gifted bruises and broken bones to the way too brave goons. He watched as Red Robin and Nightwing seamlessly switched weapons, the bo-staff turning into escrima sticks and the sticks turning into a staff. They vaulted over one another and one could think they could actually fly. Hal was captivated by the ease with which Hood fired his guns (with rubber bullets of course) hitting knee caps and head shots with scary precision even without looking, all while avoiding landing any friendly fire.

Hal stood there stunned with Barry. Batman was already a force to be reckoned with but Hal was sure that if the Batlings wanted too they could easily take down any of the leaguers. They were, in simple words, absolutely terrifying. Especially the way they had existed for years even outside of Gotham with no one in the league knowing, besides the dark knight of course. Hal remembers Signal’s words, if he wasn’t Batman’s friend he wouldn’t know about any of them, Hal was glad to be in the know now. He was even more glad that they were on his side and not his enemies. He was not confident he could win. Not when their together, not with the way they fight as if they’re one. And Hal was sure they weren’t even giving 100% as the goons didn’t seem to belong to any of their big rogues.

Hal watched one body hit the floor after another in the brutal but non-lethal massacre. He couldn’t look away.

And then Hal saw him. A child. Tied to a chair with an expression that couldn’t be more annoyed and bored. Then their eyes met and Hal felt his heart skip a beat. 1) He was pretty sure the child was plotting his murder right then and there and 2) Hood’s words rung through his head ‘baby bird’, that must be said ‘baby’ bird. The kid was dressed in a bright suit, reminiscent of a traffic light, eyes covered by the expected domino mask, this time in dark green and the usual black hair. Hal was stunned, that child was maybe 10, 12 at best. How did they allow such a small human to run around in Gotham of all places. A child with a broken leg no less. Made very clear by the , of course, black cast around the kid’s limb. The lantern wondered how Batman could allow such a thing to happen but his thoughts promptly stopped as he felt the Batglare™ x 4 on him.

He had never felt more in danger as in that moment, he was infinitely glad that they dropped it shortly in favor of untying the child. Or rather, Hal corrected himself, in favor of stopping the kid from killing Hal. True to what Hal expected from even a baby bat, he had already freed himself. Red Robin had a stern hand on the small boys shoulder and Nightwing had wrapped his whole body around the child's small frame in an octopus hug.

“Tsk, Why are they here ?” The traffic-light-child hissed and Hal found himself asking the same question, in the end they hadn’t been needed at all.

“Honestly,” Red Robin said while keeping his hand firmly on the scowling kid's shoulder, “Thought it might be a good opportunity to introduce the rest of the family, at least the rest of us youngsters.”

“Did you call agent A old just now ?” Nightwing asked incredulously, while unwrapping himself from the child to clutch his pearls in mock shock.

The teen raised an eyebrow and gave him a look that said ‘Am I wrong ?’. “Agent A is immortal.”, Nightwing answered and Hal believed him despite the mischievous grin on the vigilante’s face.

Flash hesitantly joined the talk with a question that had been on Hal's mind as well, “Say, why were you this worried ?” Barry asked towards Red Robin and Red Hood, “I mean these guys seemed hardly like anything to be worried about.”, a certain tension spread over the room.

“Let’s just say I don’t like my baby brothers being kidnapped. The last time didn't end well for all parties involved.”, Nightwing’s voice was tight as he answered, the previous grin completely gone.

“I got better in the end, didn’t I ?”, Hood drawled while throwing his arm over Nightwing’s shoulder. A seriously worrisome statement that had Hal furrow his brow. His brow also furrowed for another reason though. But before he could voice the question on his lips, the Gothamites before him continued to bicker with one another.

Nightwing scoffed before elbowing his brother in the stomach, “And got way too tall and wide, you fridge. You used to be so small and cute.” Nightwing mused while raising his hand to his chest to indicate the height.

“Huh, so 15 year old Red Hood was taller than Red Robin ?”, the child chimed in and Hal couldn’t tell if he was just asking to confirm his thought or to poke fun at his brother.

“What did I ever do to you Robin ?!” Said brother exclaimed, offended by being called small.

“You ate my honeyed dates and I’m just stating facts. Another fact is that I expect to be taller than you by next year.”, Robin said, though this time Hal was sure he was teasing RR, based on the barely noticeably raised corners of his mouth. Hal was glad he had gotten used to reading some of Batman’s facial expressions, as rare as they were. Especially as this Batling was just a miniature Batman and had the exact same 'smile'.

Red Robin sputtered at his brother's teasing while Hood, in his duty as older brother, gleefully added salt to the wound, “That means you’ll be the smallest, even BB is taller than you.”

“Only by like, a centimeter!”, The teen exclaimed and threw his hands up in exasperation, a scowl evident on his face.

“Still counts.” Barry muttered and earned himself a Bo-staff straight to the shin. The speedster keeled over in pain and Hal couldn't stop the bark of laughter that escaped him.

Though he finally saw a chance to ask the question that had been on his mind since a minute ago, ''Wait a minute, who is the eldest of you Batlings ?''

''Who do you think it is ?'', Red Robin asked, his head tilted in question and anticipated amusement.

Hal hesitated and shared a glance with Barry who was now sitting on the floor, still rubbing his shin in pain. ''Red Hood.'' He answered after raising his eyes again, while worrying his lip between his teeth.

As soon as the words left his mouth Nightwing gasped loudly in played offense. ''Little Wing ?! The oldest ?!'' The vigilante shook his head in mock disappointment, ''I should've introduced myself first. I'm a good few years older then Hoodie here.''

The nickname promptly earned him a tackle from his 'kid' brother, and wow Hal couldn't believe that at all, the two scuffled for a few moments until Nightwing had his brother pinned down with an air around him only an older sibling could hold.

There was a break in conversation as Barry cleared his throat and brought everyone’s attention to himself, “So,” he drawled, stretching the word out, “I do have to ask if one of you has an idea why Shazam was so scared at the thought of coming along.”

“Shazam ?” Robin asked, his head tilted in a way that Hal had to admit almost looked adorable if he wasn’t looking at a brightly colored, miniature Batman.

“Yeah, Captain Marvel. Tall guy, like 6”2, bright red spandex suit, with a yellow lightning bolt on it, though not as cool as mine. Also doesn’t wear a mask, like Supes.”, Barry supplied, placing his hands on his hips at the self praise.

“Don’t toot your own horn too loud, one minute wonder.” Hood drawled in an amused tone. The speedster scowled at him and opened his mouth, probably to retaliate, when Robin spoke up,

“I have met him before I believe, he was in Gotham so I enforced father’s rule. I made sure he would not return.”, the mini Batman stated matter-of-factly, while proudly brandishing his- holy shit the child had a fucking Katana ! Hal really needed to talk to Spooky.

“I expected more from him but he ran with his tail between his legs before I even got serious, tsk.”, Children should not be allowed to be this terrifying Hal concluded, that and he really needs to go home, right about now. He had enough moments of terror for a full year in a couple of hours.

“By the way, why were you out tonight Rob ? B benched you last I checked. You know because of the leg.” Red Robin drawled while loosely gesturing at the cast on Robin’s leg. ‘Good to know Spooky doesn’t support this.’ Hal thought to himself.

“I was just went out to feed the strays. I have promised them food and I shall uphold my promises. Even if I’m apparently on bed rest, tsk.” Robin spat the last words at his cast as if he was personally offended that he wasn’t invulnerable. He probably was if Hal was being honest. He seemed like the type. ''This plaster shackle shall not be the reason one of the strays go hungry. I still do not think I need to wear-''

Robin had certainly wanted to keep talking but Nightwing smoothly stopped him from ranting about his self bestowed responsibilities by picking the boy up and disappearing via smoke bomb, along with all his brothers. Hal shared a look with Barry and they made their way home.

Really ‘like father like son.’ was a phrase that fit all of the Batchildren, maybe a little too well sometimes.

<- Prev. | Next -> CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4 | CH5

[mischiefinbloom]

Hey how are you?? Could you write something where Timothée (or any of his characters) and fem reader have a best friend like relationship like leaning into each other when laughing or things like that

hi, sweets! it wasn't very clear to me whether you'd prefer something more platonic or a friends to lovers dynamic, so sorry if it’s not what you wanted! happy new year everyone! ㅤ♡ྀི

୧ ‧₊˚ just friends, right?

₊⊹ summary: two friends, one unspoken love. you and timothée struggle with their feelings, afraid to ruin everything. after a tense buildup, they finally admit the truth and step into something new together.

₊⊹ pairing: timothée chalamet x reader

₊⊹ warnings: idiots in love, heavy on pinning, messy feelings, a little angst, slowburn.

₊⊹ author's note: sorry for the delay—i’ve been super busy because i just graduated from high school! the school year here is a bit different from what you might be used to. our academic calendar usually ends in december, which is why i disappeared for a bit—i had so much going on!

the manhattan sun felt hotter that summer of 2002. you were just a six-year-old child, curious and reserved, the kind who preferred watching the world rather than diving into it. afternoons were spent at the neighborhood park, where the shade of old trees offered welcome relief from the heat. while other kids ran and played, you sat at the edge of the fountain, holding a strawberry ice cream that always melted too quickly.

it was there that you saw timothée for the first time. he appeared like a storm: awkward, dirty, and determined, clutching a blue frisbee to his chest with an urgency that seemed exaggerated for someone so small.

“hide this for me!” he yelled, his hazel eyes wide. before you could respond, he shoved the frisbee into your hands and ducked behind the fountain.

you looked at the toy, then at two older boys who appeared moments later, panting. “did you see a kid run by with this?”

you shook your head, gripping the frisbee tightly. the boys muttered something before walking away, and timothée emerged from his hiding spot, his face lit up with a smile of relief.

“thanks for that! i’m timothée,” he said, extending a dirty hand towards you.

you hesitated for a moment but ended up shaking his hand. “can i call you timmy?”

from that day on, timothée started showing up everywhere. at the park, at school, even at your building’s doorstep, with ideas for adventures that never seemed to work out but always ended in laughter. he was everything you weren’t: impulsive, fearless, and loud. and, somehow, that made sense.

one afternoon, as you climbed a tree to fetch a kite stuck in the branches, he looked at you with the kind of awkward confidence only kids have. “did you know that friends are like brothers you get to choose?”

you laughed, thinking that was a silly thing to say. but somehow, it stayed with you.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

manhattan in winter was a moving painting. fog danced between the trees at bryant park, and the smell of roasted chestnuts mingled with the icy air. you crossed the bustling streets of soho with timothée by your side, both bundled in heavy coats that barely kept out the cold. he wore a black cap, the brim pulled low to hide his face, but his relaxed posture gave him away. he was used to being recognized, even when pretending otherwise.

“why do you always make me walk in the cold?” you complained, adjusting your scarf.

“because the cold makes us feel alive,” he answered with a crooked smile. “and, honestly, i needed coffee. good coffee.”

the café he picked felt like a portal to another decade. dark wooden tables, fogged-up windows, and a jukebox in the corner playing nina simone. the owner, an older man with gray hair and a warm expression, greeted timothée with a knowing nod, as if they were old friends.

“is this where you hide?” you asked, as he chose the furthest table.

“not always. but today feels like the right place.”

you sat across from him, your fingers still cold as you cradled the warm cup the waitress brought moments later. timothée ordered a cappuccino, as usual, while you opted for a chai latte with oat milk — something he always teased you about.

“can’t you just order coffee? it’s a coffee shop, not a tea salon.”

“you’re so predictable,” you replied, teasing him back.

despite the casual tone, something felt different that day. he seemed more introspective, his fingers absently tracing the rim of his cup as his eyes wandered over the people around you.

“is everything okay?” you asked, leaning in slightly.

“yeah, just… sometimes it’s hard to shut it off, you know?”

“shut what off?”

“all of it.” he gestured towards the window, where a group of teenagers passed by with their phones, clearly trying to sneak a peek inside. “the constant attention. the expectations. when i’m with you, it feels like… a break.”

you stayed silent for a moment, absorbing his words. “maybe because i’ve never treated you like someone who needs to impress me.”

he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “yeah, maybe that’s it.”

the silence between you was comfortable but heavy. you knew there was more behind his words, but you decided not to push. with timothée, things needed to be unraveled on his time.

later that day, you both went to evan’s loft, an eccentric director who always gathered artists, musicians, and writers for intimate parties. the place was a mix of chaos and elegance: worn leather couches, shelves overflowing with books, and an entire wall covered in vintage movie posters.

music echoed through the walls, laughter mingling with the sound of crystal glasses clinking in exaggerated toasts. in one corner, the beat of a hip-hop track seemed to make the floor vibrate, while in another, conversations flowed smoothly over red wine and quiet chuckles.

when you and timothée arrived, the scene felt uncomplicated, even familiar. the kind of party you always attended with him, where the sense of being out of place was outweighed by his presence. as always, he was the center of attention, effortlessly. people gravitated towards him with ease, and the fact that timothée seemed uninterested in being the “star” of the night only made him shine brighter, as if his modesty was yet another irresistible quality.

you, on the other hand, felt like a shadow beside him. it wasn’t uncomfortable, but you knew that standing next to him, people looked at you with a certain fascination too — as if, by osmosis, you absorbed some of the light that surrounded him. still, timothée seemed oblivious to everything happening around him. shortly after arriving, he disappeared, as he often did, seeking a bit of personal space amidst the chaos.

not knowing what to do, you found yourself wandering through the party, feeling slightly out of place but also entertained. the environment, though lively, had something comforting about it. you joined a small group of timothée’s friends, some familiar, others not so much. among them was ethan, a young artist you’d started talking to a few weeks earlier. his laid-back demeanor quickly revealed itself as he began a conversation that started with a discussion about the meaning of art and drifted into inside jokes about a notoriously clueless art critic.

the conversation flowed effortlessly, and you felt like you could lose yourself in those words, a kind of familiarity that brought comfort. the outside world felt distant — you no longer worried about timothée being elsewhere, as your focus remained on that small circle.

but even with the chatter and laughter around you, something in the air felt off. something in you, or maybe in the space itself, left the impression that there was more between the people than just the pleasure of company.

you tried to ignore it, letting yourself get caught up in ethan’s story about an art exhibit he’d recently attended. however, when you glanced around the room, your eyes met timothée’s. he was standing in the kitchen, his back to the party, his shoulders relaxed, but his gaze sharper than usual, fixed on you.

for a moment, you didn’t think much of it. you were used to his constant presence, the way he always seemed to be nearby, subtly but intensely. yet, something about that look made him seem distant, as if he were taking in more of you than you were ready to give in that instant.

but you continued your conversation with ethan, laughing at his story about a difficult client in a gallery. you didn’t notice that, meanwhile, timothée remained there, unmoving, watching you. his presence felt closer than it actually was, as if he were silently following every word you spoke, every gesture you made.

later that night, as the party dwindled and the music softened, you slipped out onto evan’s fire escape for some fresh air. the chill of the night cut through the warmth of the crowded loft, and the city below seemed quieter, somehow, as if holding its breath.

you leaned against the railing, eyes tracing the lights of manhattan, when you heard the window behind you slide open. timothée stepped out, holding a glass of wine, his coat hanging loosely on his shoulders.

“needed a moment?” he asked, his voice soft, the question almost casual.

you nodded, not looking at him at first. “yeah. it’s… a lot in there.”

he joined you at the railing, standing just a little too close. the silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but it felt thick with something unspoken.

after a few moments, he glanced over at you. “so, ethan… he seems nice.”

you turned toward him, surprised by the comment. “he is. we were just talking, nothing special.”

timothée didn’t respond immediately, but his gaze lingered on you. the way he said nothing at all made you wonder if there was more to his words than just a simple observation.

you raised an eyebrow. “what’s with the look?”

he shrugged, the faintest of smiles tugging at the corner of his lips. “nothing. i just… i don’t know. it’s just different, seeing you with someone else, i guess.”

his words hung in the air between you. it wasn’t what you expected to hear, but it wasn’t exactly surprising either. still, something in his tone made you uneasy.

“why does it matter?” you asked, turning to face him, your voice steady but edged with something you couldn’t quite place.

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he took another sip of his wine, the glass clinking gently as he lowered it. “i don’t know. maybe it doesn’t. i’ve just never really thought about it until now.”

you frowned, unsure what to make of the sudden shift in the conversation. “you’ve never thought about it?”

timothée shifted, his body facing the city now, but his eyes seemed unfocused. “i mean, not like this. not… seeing you with someone else. it’s strange. i guess i’ve always kind of assumed you’d be around. always.”

there was something in his voice, something almost… vulnerable. but it wasn’t obvious, not in the way you’d expect. it wasn’t even a confession. it was just a thought, slipping out when it wasn’t supposed to.

you didn’t know how to respond. all you could do was stand there, absorbing the weight of his words without fully understanding them.

after a long pause, you spoke, quieter now. “you don’t have to worry about me. i’m not… i’m not going anywhere.”

he turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. for a moment, he didn’t speak. then, his lips parted, but the words didn’t come. he swallowed, a flicker of something in his eyes, before he nodded.

“yeah,” he said, his voice softer now, as if he’d said everything he needed to without even meaning to. “i guess i’m just… not used to things changing.”

the silence between you stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was… understanding, like two people standing on the edge of something they couldn’t quite name, unsure of where to step next.

you looked back at the city, the lights twinkling in the distance. “things don’t always change the way we expect,” you said, your voice distant, almost thoughtful.

timothée didn’t respond immediately, but you felt him beside you, a presence you couldn’t quite define.

“yeah,” he murmured after a beat, his tone quieter now. “i guess not.”

neither of you spoke for a while. the night stretched on, the city buzzing below, and the weight of the moment seemed to hang there, unspoken, yet understood.

finally, you sighed softly and turned back toward the window, feeling the pull of the warmth inside. timothée lingered a little longer, watching you, before he followed.

the door closed behind him, and the noise of the party seemed to rush back in. but somehow, things felt a little different. less urgent. like maybe, for just a moment, you��d stepped away from it all.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

fridays always had something magical about them, something that unfolded in the air with the same naturalness as a tradition that didn’t need to be spoken. the hours passed differently on those nights, when routine faded away and the world outside seemed distant, not so urgent, not so fast. together, fridays belonged to the two of you, and nothing else mattered. it was as if time had been molded for those moments, where the small kitchen and soft laughter created a bubble that no one else could invade.

timothée arrived late, as usual. the door opened, and he rushed in, grocery bags swinging in his hands. he wasn’t in too much of a hurry, but you knew he was somehow anxious. his smile, that half-crooked grin, was there, but there was something different in his eyes, something more restrained.

“i brought wine,” he said, in the laid-back tone of someone trying not to make it a big deal, but failing in the effort. “and taco ingredients. for a change, you know?”

you raised an eyebrow, a half-smile forming. “tacos? you know we always put too much spice, right?”

he laughed, setting the bags on the counter. “that’s part of the charm. we can’t make tacos without a little bit of excitement.”

you couldn’t help but smile, as you always did. his little remarks had that power — making the simple feel grand. though you weren’t exactly sure what it was, you felt there was something in timothée that made the nights stretch and warm up, without needing much else.

as you organized the ingredients, your movements were so automatic that they seemed choreographed, as if the years of cooking together had etched each gesture into your body. timothée cut the vegetables with his usual concentration, but there was something more in this moment, something you couldn’t quite put into words. the kitchen’s ambiance, the soft lighting, the interrupted laughter… everything seemed to carry a different weight, a subtle tension you couldn’t identify.

“remember that time we tried to make sushi?” timothée asked, his voice low, his laugh overtaking his tone.

you looked up, laughing instantly. “how could i forget? it was a complete disaster. the rice stuck to everything. even the cat felt sorry for us.”

“but still, it was fun,” he said, smiling to himself. “even when nothing went right, it always felt… right in the end.”

and you agreed with a nod, feeling a silent connection that, somehow, never faded, no matter how much life changed. it was as if this moment, this night, was more than just food and conversation — it was a reflection of something you had built together, but that you both knew was undefined.

the food was delicious. the tacos, perhaps slightly too spicy as usual, but perfect in a way only the two of you knew how to make. you sat on the couch after dinner, the empty plates and wine glasses being refilled again, as if there was nothing else to do but enjoy the night.

the movie started, one of those classics you’d watched so many times you could recite the lines without making a mistake. the images on the screen were familiar, but as you looked to the side, you noticed there was something new in that place — and it wasn’t just the movie playing. it was the silence that filled the spaces between you, the way the words were becoming slower, as if the air had thickened.

timothée was lying on the couch, his head resting against the cushion, but his eyes seemed to wander into the void. the movie continued, but he wasn’t there. or rather, he was there, but it seemed as though he was lost in something you didn’t know how to access.

and you, sitting beside him, didn’t know what to do with the growing sense of discomfort. it wasn’t discomfort in the usual sense of the word. it wasn’t something bad, but rather… something that made the space between you two feel heavier, more intense.

you pulled your legs up, drawing them close to your chest, the automatic position of someone seeking a bit of comfort. timothée’s gaze never left the screen, but you could feel, in every tense muscle, that he was aware of your presence — more than you could comprehend.

for a moment, you weren’t sure if you were being watched, but somehow, you felt the weight of his attention on you. the way he was lying, still, seemed to communicate something more, as if he was holding onto something he wasn’t willing to share. it stirred something in you, subtly, but deeply.

then, without intending to, your eyes met. the instant it happened, you tried to quickly look away, but something in his gaze held you. there was a warmth there, an intensity that didn’t make sense, as though the mere act of eye contact had shattered the fragile line between who you were and what you could be. the movie kept playing, but neither of you was paying attention to the screen anymore.

“why are you looking at me like that?” timothée’s question came softly, but it carried something you couldn’t identify.

“i wasn’t looking,” you replied automatically, defensiveness taking over. but the answer felt hollow, and you knew it.

“yes, you were.” he smiled, but it was a brief smile, almost as though he had just realized something he didn’t want to. something he didn’t want you to see.

you laughed, trying to deflect the tension that now hung in the air. “you’re so conceited.”

“and you’re a terrible liar,” he replied, with the usual lightness, but his voice sounded a little deeper. his laugh didn’t reach his eyes, and that made your heart beat a little faster, out of sync.

time seemed to stretch around you both, and for a moment, all that remained was that silence, intertwining into something undefined. you both knew there was something more there, but neither of you seemed capable of talking about it. it was easier to ignore. it was easier to let the words get lost in the air, never taking shape.

when the movie ended and the credits began to roll, you both remained silent. the kind of silence that only exists between two people who share something profound, but don’t know how to express it.

timothée stood up to grab his jacket, but paused at the door. for a moment, it seemed like he was about to say something, but in the end, he just turned to you. his gaze was gentle, but there was an intensity there that couldn’t be ignored.

“good night, chérie,” he said, his voice softer than usual. it wasn’t just a goodbye. it was an unspoken farewell.

you responded, trying to mask the confusion now filling your chest. “good night, timmy.”

and when he finally left, the emptiness that filled the room felt larger than ever. not just because he had left, but because you knew, without a doubt, that something had changed between you two. something neither of you was willing to admit. something hanging in the air, heavy and undeniable.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

it was a quiet night, but the silence in the apartment felt like a constant echo, an emptiness slowly expanding as the hours passed. the wind blew through the streets of new york, carrying with it a soft murmur that mixed with the muffled sounds of the city that never sleeps. but inside your home, everything felt calmer, more introspective, as if the world outside had been left behind.

you were sitting on the couch, your legs curled beneath you, your gaze lost in the candle still burning on the low table. your mind, however, was far from those small, flickering flames. your thoughts were elsewhere, on someone else — timothée. it was almost impossible not to think about him now. he was in your mind with an unsettling intensity, a constant presence, as if he had infiltrated every corner of your being, making it hard to breathe without thinking of him.

you had promised yourself you wouldn’t think about it. that you wouldn’t let yourself get lost in that thin line between friendship and something more. but in the past few weeks, the space between you two seemed to have closed, the unspoken words weighing more than anything that had been verbalized. his touch, the lingering glances, the laughter for no apparent reason. everything seemed to point to something beyond what friendship allowed. but at the same time, there was no clarity. he never said anything, and you never dared to. it was as if you both were just… waiting.

the sound of the doorbell pulled you from your thoughts. for a moment, you thought about ignoring it, sinking further into the confusion of your own feelings. but when you looked at the clock, you realized mia should be there. she always showed up unannounced, without explanation, and you never minded. in fact, you liked it, because mia’s visits were always a breath of fresh air in the emotional storm you found yourself in.

when you opened the door, mia stepped in with her wide smile and a look that already said everything. she had this way of sensing things before anyone else, and the concern in her eyes was evidence that, once again, she knew you were distant, lost in your own thoughts.

“you’re not okay, and i already know why,” mia said, setting her bag aside and throwing herself onto the couch beside you. “you’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

you gave a weak smile, but you couldn’t lie. mia was like a radar, always picking up on what you tried to hide. “yeah. i can’t stop thinking about him. i just… don’t know what to do, mia.”

she looked at you for a moment, her eyebrows slightly furrowed, as if waiting for something more. when you didn’t say anything, she leaned forward a little, letting go of her usual casual tone, replacing it with a seriousness you recognized well.

“i can give you advice, you know that. but the truth is, you already know what’s going on. you just don’t want to admit it.”

you sighed, letting your head fall back against the couch. your gaze fixed on the window, but all you could see was the reflection of your own thoughts. “i don’t know what’s going on. i… feel like something’s changed. he’s changed. or maybe it’s me.”

“it’s not you. i mean, not just you. he’s changed too. it’s not just the way you look at him, you know. he feels it too. i see the way he looks at you when no one’s watching. he cares about you. it’s not just friendship, you can’t ignore that.”

mia’s words hit you like a jolt of electricity. you shut your eyes, trying not to hear. but at the same time, her words seemed to dance around your thoughts, as if they were touching a part of you you’d been trying to silence. it was true. you felt it, but you were scared to admit it.

“he’s… timothée. he’s my best friend, mia. i can’t do this. i can’t mess everything up. what if he doesn’t feel the same? what if everything changes after? i don’t know how to handle that.”

mia laughed, a low, cynical laugh. “i find it funny how you try to convince yourself he doesn’t feel the same, when everyone in the room can see the way he looks at you. when everyone sees how you two behave around each other. there’s no hiding it. but the fear you have of losing him is real, i know that. but it won’t change anything if you don’t talk about it. it’ll keep weighing on you.”

you bit your lip, your breathing becoming more irregular as the thoughts scrambled through your mind. “what if i speak up? what if i take the risk? i can’t do it. i can’t… risk losing everything we have. everything we’ve always had.”

“but you’re already losing everything, aren’t you? it’s already lost, you just won’t admit it. what you have now isn’t friendship, it’s a minefield. you’re both stepping on something much deeper and trying to pretend everything’s fine.”

the silence between you grew heavy. no more words. just the sense of an inevitable future that you didn’t know if you were ready to face. mia’s gaze, firm and deep, disarmed you. you knew she was right, but confronting it, admitting it, felt like ripping a blindfold off your eyes. and you weren’t sure if you were ready to see what was truly in front of you.

“what do i do, mia?” you finally asked, your voice softer, wearier. “what do i do when everything feels so… uncertain?”

mia looked at you, a gentle smile forming on her face. “you do what your heart tells you. no matter what happens. if it’s him, if it’s what you really want, then go after it. no matter how hard it is. no matter if you think you’ll lose everything. if he’s what you need, you’ll have to take the risk. and in the end, it’ll be worth it.”

you closed your eyes for a moment, letting mia’s words sink in, feeling their weight settle within you. as silence filled the room once more, you felt something deeper, something profound. it was time to face yourself. to confront what was there, even if you didn’t know what to do with it yet.

you looked out the window, watching the soft moonlight reflect on the city streets. maybe it was time to finally understand what you were feeling. and more importantly, maybe it was time to understand what he was feeling too.

and as mia remained by your side, you knew there was no turning back. the decision was coming, and the night seemed even quieter, as if waiting for the moment everything would change.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

it was one of those nights when time seemed to drag on. the apartment was enveloped in an almost solitary silence, with the yellowish light from the lamp casting soft shadows on the walls. the sound of the wind tapping against the window, the gentle rustling of the leaves outside, seemed to be part of a calm that didn’t match the storm brewing inside of you.

you sat there, next to timothée, with your back against the couch, feet curled up on the cushion while he was more at ease, legs stretched out, his head resting on the edge of the sofa. you were both wrapped in an aura of comfortable intimacy—the familiarity of every friday night. but something was different today. something in the air felt heavier, more tense, like a rope about to snap.

timothée grabbed the remote and changed the channel, but his eyes were no longer on the tv. they were somewhere beyond it, wandering through space, distant. you watched him without him noticing, and in that moment, you felt a subtle, almost invisible distance between the two of you that had never been there before. it was like he was distant, yet closer to you than anything else in the world.

you caught yourself thinking, once again, about what you didn’t say. the feelings you didn’t share. the confusion that took over your mind whenever he was near. how he made everything seem so easy, but at the same time, you knew that inside, he was more closed off than anything you had ever known. what you felt for him—not just friendship, but something bigger, stronger—was about to overflow. you could feel it. the ache in your chest, the warmth in your cheeks, the tension in your shoulders. it was more than the simple desire to be close to him; it was the desire to touch him in a different way, to be more than friends.

he was so distant, but still there, and you could no longer ignore it. the feeling of standing on the edge of an emotional cliff, waiting for him to turn around and see what you were trying to say, but without words. but today, maybe, it would be different. maybe you would finally have the courage to confess. what could go wrong, right?

“timmy,” you began, your voice hesitant, but firmer than you expected. he turned his face toward you, his eyes shining in the dim light of the room.

“yeah?” he didn’t know what you were about to say, but he felt the change in your tone. he always did. you could see the fear starting to appear in his eyes, but he tried to hide it.

you swallowed dryly, your mouth dry, but the urge to say it was stronger. you didn’t want to hide anymore. you couldn’t live in this uncertainty, waiting for him to notice what you felt. but at the same time, a voice inside you begged for you to pull back, to stay silent, as you always had.

“i don’t know how to start, but… i think you deserve to know,” you said, feeling your heart race faster. he stayed silent, waiting. but he didn’t know how much this was tearing you apart, how much you were about to open up in a way you never had before.

“i… i think i’m in love with you, timothée.”

the words came out in a nearly imperceptible sigh, but it was as if the world had stopped. everything felt heavier, the sound of the leaves tapping on the window, the silence filling the room, all of it fading as the words hung between the two of you, laden with deep meaning.

timothée didn’t respond immediately, and that made the blood rush faster through your veins. you looked at him, trying to find some answer, anything that would indicate that he felt the same. but there was nothing. nothing you could grasp, nothing you could touch. he was there, but he was somewhere else.

he shifted on the couch, clearly uncomfortable. his expression closed off, his shoulders tense, and for a moment, you thought he was going to laugh, that he would make some joke to break the tension. but he didn’t.

“chérie,” he began, his voice low, almost as if he were trying to find the right words. “i… i don’t know what you expect from me now.”

that sentence was a blow, but you tried to ignore it. it was okay, you could still keep control.

but what happened next was even more painful. he looked at you, his expression serious, his gaze distant, and you somehow realized that he was pulling away from you. not physically, but emotionally. something had changed. he was shutting down again, like he always did when he didn’t want to face what was right in front of him.

“i… i can’t do this, chérie,” he said, now not looking at you, his eyes fixed on the tv screen, but not really seeing it. “i don’t know what you want from me, but i can’t give you that.”

you felt the air leave your lungs, your chest tightening as if you had been punched. “but… why? can’t i be honest with you? what happened to our friendship?”

he sighed, exasperated but not angry. there was no anger. just something else… a pain he was trying to hide. “our friendship… is the only thing i can give you. i can’t give you more than that. i can’t. i don’t want to complicate everything.”

his voice was now more broken, and you could see he was struggling with something inside him, something he didn’t want to admit. you suddenly stood up, the movement abrupt as an attempt to distance yourself from the pain. you didn’t want to hear it anymore. you didn’t want to see him pulling away from you, but there was no choice. he had done it.

“i understand,” you replied, eyes full of tears, but you didn’t want him to see. you didn’t want to show him how much it was tearing you apart. “i just… thought it was more than this.”

you didn’t expect him to say anything more, and he didn’t. silence once again filled the room, heavy and dense. he stood up then, as if escaping from what he couldn’t handle. there were no more words. no more explanations. you felt empty, as if the ground beneath you had dissolved.

before leaving, he looked at you, but his gaze was distant, almost lost. there was no ‘goodnight’ or a smile. just a silent departure. and, the moment the door closed behind him, you felt what remained between the two of you unraveling.

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

the distance between the two of you had grown unbearably wide. no words, no gestures, not even a glance that lasted more than a few seconds. it was as if the mere fact of being in the same place had become an effort, a trying to walk through a minefield, where any word could destroy everything. the pain was invisible, silent, but it was there, constant, weighing down on your shoulders. and what hurt the most was that you didn’t know exactly what had happened, how what once seemed simple and natural had turned into something you couldn’t touch.

the days were long, and the thoughts, constant. no matter what you did, or where you looked, timothée was always there, in the back of your mind. it was a ghostly presence, a shadow that couldn’t be shaken off. there was something in his eyes when he looked at you, something you couldn’t identify, but that your heart knew. and the words he hadn’t said still echoed in your head, like a silent scream, a deafening silence.

the pain of not knowing what had happened between you two was starting to become unbearable. the emptiness of his absence seemed to stretch through your whole being, until you no longer knew what to do with it. it wasn’t just the physical distance between you, but something much deeper. what did all of this mean? what had been lost?

meanwhile, timothée was in his own silent prison. surrounded by the bustle of his work, the cameras, the interviews, he was, in reality, completely distant. what once seemed to be his perfectly organized life was now a mess. there was no more satisfaction in what he did. he wanted out. he wanted to be with you, but he didn’t know how to reach you. he didn’t know what he would say, or how to explain everything he was feeling. fear paralyzed him. the fear of losing your friendship, the fear that everything would be lost once and for all, the fear that if he allowed himself to feel, something would break that couldn’t be fixed.

and every day that passed without him speaking to you, without him having the courage to admit his own feelings, was a day heavier than the last. the pain of not knowing what to do with this love that he barely understood, that mixed with guilt, frustration, and the fear that by saying the right words, he would lose what he valued most in his life. and you… you were there, distant and cold, and he didn’t know how to reach your heart anymore.

but then, deep in his pain, a decision formed. he couldn’t live in this limbo anymore. he couldn’t hide from his own feelings any longer. fear had consumed him for far too long. he needed to expose himself, to be honest with himself and with you. and if you didn’t want him anymore, he would understand. but he needed to try. he needed to know.

you didn’t know what to expect when you saw his message. after so long without hearing anything, the simple fact that he had found a way to communicate again made your heart race, but at the same time, a wave of uncertainty washed over you. what did he want? the message said: “can we talk?” and you didn’t know what to do with that question, with that doubt that was finally manifesting between you two.

when you arrived at his house, the atmosphere was quiet, familiar, but somehow everything felt strange. as if time had stopped there, and what was between you two was no longer the same. he was there, waiting for you, but there was something in his eyes you couldn’t understand. he had a lost look, as if he were fighting something inside himself. that silence, the lack of words between you, made the place feel oppressive, denser than ever. it was almost as if you could feel the weight of the tension in the air.

he watched you for a moment, as if he didn’t know how to start, as if he were preparing himself for something. but he didn’t speak immediately. the silence between you two dragged on, time seemed to stretch, and finally, you were the one who decided to break it.

“you wanted to talk?” your voice came out low, filled with a bitter expectation, as if by saying those words, you were trying to prepare yourself for whatever he was about to say.

finally, he moved, as if lifting a weight off his chest. he looked directly at you, and that’s when you realized he was nervous. “i’m sorry, chérie,” he said, the words coming slowly, as if they were hard to say. “i… don’t know how to reach you, or what to say. i… was scared.”

you looked at him, confused, the knot in your throat tightening. scared? scared of what? “scared of what?” you asked, feeling your heart race. was it fear, or an excuse? what was he really saying?

he closed his eyes, his expression of pain becoming even more visible, as if he had to force himself to face the truth. “scared of losing you. scared that everything between us would change. scared that if i let my feelings take over, i’d ruin everything. i didn’t know how… didn’t know how to deal with it.”

you stayed silent for a moment, the air between you heavy, tense. you couldn’t process his words properly, didn’t know what to do with everything you were hearing. but then, he moved closer, almost without thinking, his eyes searching yours as if they were waiting for something, a response, a confirmation.

“i love you.” and those words came out softly, almost whispered, but filled with immense weight, as if he were carrying the world on his shoulders.

you didn’t know what to say. that ‘i love you’ seemed so simple, and yet, so complex. it was everything you had wanted to hear, and at the same time, everything you feared. because for a moment, you didn’t know if it was true. but he was there, saying it, looking into your eyes with such intensity that, despite the doubt, you couldn’t deny what you were feeling.

“i… i love you too, timmy.” those words came out of you without you being able to stop them. relief and pain mixed together, and you felt something break inside you—a barrier, perhaps. something that had closed between you two, now opening up.

and, without another word, he pulled you into a kiss. it wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t pushed by any impulse. it was gentle and full of a tenderness that seemed to have taken years to form. as if, in that moment, time stood still and everything was possible again.

when he pulled away, you were both silent, but in a silence that was no longer uncomfortable. it was a silence filled with something much deeper—a understanding, a peace that you hadn’t experienced before.

you smiled, feeling the lightness spread through your body. “finally,” you murmured, and he laughed, a soft, relieved sound. he hugged you tightly, and in that embrace, everything seemed to fall into place all at once. the fear, the pain, the distance… all of it had disappeared. and what remained was only the truth you had finally shared, something that could not be ignored, something that would be the beginning of something new.

now, you were together, and that was all that mattered.

[lolitastories]

Ours

Rafe Cameron

Description: This will be a short story on how two people who love each other find their way back to one another. They have a child together and have to focus on giving her the best version of themselves but maybe their best version of themselves is when they are apart.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3 (Coming soon).

No matter the reason why Rafe and I weren’t officially together could ever make me deny him seeing his daughter. Rafe and I were two young to know what life would bring us after we met 4 years ago. At 19 I needed a change after graduating high school, so I moved to the outer banks. My friends came over to visit and when our pre campfire on the beach was rudely interrupted by a drunk girl, Rafe was there to watch as his friend Topper stopped the girl from starting a fight with one of my friends. My friend was more confident than me and invited them to stay and enjoy the sunset, since then Rafe and I spent most of our free days together. 3 years later I found out we were pregnant. Now I won’t admit I was scared because I wasn’t. Yet per my mother, my actions would tell you otherwise. When I found out I couldn’t block Rafe out of my life for even a day before he started sending constant messages and calling. I definitely couldn't ignore when he would personally go out of his way to come and find me. I was running out of places to hide so I had decided to move back home for a bit. I couldn’t stay too long because it would make my family suspicious, so thankfully being in my first trimester gave me the advantage to knock that reason out of the way. But soon I had to go back and face the decision I had made. The time back home had given me 3 weeks to think how and when I was going to tell Rafe about our future child. Since I was young, I knew I always wanted to be a mother, not this young but truthfully, I was jumping on clouds. The one thing I wanted to make sure before getting pregnant was choosing the right father for my children. He needed to be kind, loving, protective, but most of all understanding. Rafe was all of that and more. Not only did he have all those traits he also made me feel comfortable around him. He was the first man in my life that took care of the little girl who was scared to show herself. He brought out the pain and made it disappear. So, as I walked over to his property in Tanny hill I was determined to settle with whatever he chose to do with the information, that was until I saw him and another girl in his kitchen sharing a drink. I shouldn’t have gone into conclusion, but I was pregnant, and all my emotions were everywhere. I trusted him and when he found out I was back on the island he came to find me. He told me who she was and how he loved me. If it was me alone, I would jump on his arms and take him back, but it wasn’t. I needed to think of the little creature growing inside of me now, so after telling him I was pregnant I also told him I needed time to think about us. I wasn’t testing him, but this little person has become my world, and I needed to prepare to give them my all before welcoming it to the real world.

“We don’t like it here.” I hear the low and grumpy tone coming from behind me. As I turn, I let out a chuckle seeing Rafe and our daughter sharing the same expression. He had her hooked up to his chest as we were making our way to yet another antique store.

“I can understand it from her, but you need to stop acting like a baby.” I shut the tailgate of his trunk and started walking. I heard another groan but soon enough his heavy footsteps were getting closer and closer until he was walking alongside me.

“Promise me you won’t be like your mommy?” I roll my eyes and shake my head. I knew where this sentence was going. “Well,” I could feel his eyes on me, but I continued to walk towards the entrance of the store. “Maybe the good parts but when it comes to shopping, I hope you will drain my bank account at decent stores.” I grab the door hand and pull it open. Rafe walks in giving me a teasing look. I don’t respond knowing it would only lead to a longer conversation down a hole I don’t like. I walk over to grab a cart and walk over to where Rafe is waiting for me. “Every time you come into an antique store you buy nothing. Why do you always bring a cart?”

“Habit.” I shrug as I begin to look around. My mother, siblings and I would enjoy a Saturday in thrift stores and antique shops. We would later get food and rush home with a smile on our faces, it didn’t matter if we were carrying 12 bags or nothing, we were happy.

“Habits do die hard.” He says in a lower tone. I straightened up looking over to him as he played with our daughter's hands. I walk closer, placing my hands over his.

“And I am very proud of you Rafe,” As I looked into his eyes, I felt words choking to get out, but I held them down.

“What a beautiful baby.” Our heads turn looking over to a mid-thirties lady? as she smiled towards us. “Oh, look at her tiny shoes!” She squealed coming over to touch her small shoes. “I remembered my kid's feet being this small, almost making me want another little one.” We laugh alongside her. “Are you two planning to have more?” That question made my smile fade really quick. I looked over to Rafe who had a similar expression. “Either way you two are still young. Enjoy her this little and as much as possible because time goes by fast. You spend your time on things other than family and when you decide to give it priority it's too late.” Her words were like a knife stabbing me right in the heart.

“How many kids do you have?” I could hear their conversation faintly. My fingers began to tighten along the cart's handle. My body began to heat up while my head was spinning.

“Well, it was nice to talk to you two, but I have to find my two devils running around here somewhere.” I was functioning enough to give her a smile before she walked away.

“You, okay?” Rafe moves closer looking over my face. I nod slowly before shaking the uneasiness away and smiling up at him again.

“Yeah. We need to hurry if we want to catch the other stores before they close.” Rafe groans, throwing his head back.

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” I raised my hand to playfully shove him but then I remembered he was holding our daughter. “Did you see that?” he exaggerated as he turned to look down. “Mommy was trying to hurt daddy.” I roll my eyes and turn around to continue walking. My heart was melting when I heard our baby giggling at his fake studded words. “See, she agrees with me.”

“She does because she is such a daddy’s girl.” I turn my head to see Rafe smiling proudly as our baby looks up to him in admiration. “Just wait until she starts dating,” I bite my lips holding back a laugh to how fast his smile fell. “She will put you second,” I teasingly whispers.

“No, she would not! I will make sure of it because she won’t date until I am dead” I come to a halt and turn around to face him.

“I am %110 percent sure she would choose him and fight against you to keep the boy around.”

“Nothing backs up your statement.” He keeps his head high.

“She is a girl.” I simply state. “She will be smart but at the end of the day she is a girl. And as a girl myself I know it will happen because I happened to me,” He looks down with confusion on his face.

“What?” He questioned.

“I argued with my father because of a boy, till this day he still doesn’t like him. but I would do it again.” I don’t regret getting into an argument because of him. I choose the right choice to protect the boy's name, because he keeps on defying everything my father said he was going to do and be. “But don’t worry too much, you two will be okay.”

“Are you and your dad, okay?” I shake my head. I haven’t even told them I had a child. I know my father loved me but until I had Rafe, and I figured out, he would never accept it. I also am not in a hurry because it's my life and I am very happy.

“We will be.” I let out a sigh seeing how even our daughter was keeping quiet. “Let go because I am already hungry.” I smile, turning around to focus back on the shelves. I picked up a small book that read Collection Shakespeare: Hamlet. Before I opened it the book was taken from my hand. Rafe’s face comes to sit right beside my ear. His hot breath fanned down my neck and I could feel his smile radiate against my skin.

“Well until that happens, I can be your daddy,” He slowly whispers. His warm breath moves closer, and I couldn’t help but close my eyes when he places a kiss on the crook of my neck. It had been so long since I felt his lips on such a little intimate spot. When I regained my conscious back, he had already parted. I turned around to him, opening the small yellow book. “I will start by reading my two girls a book” I opened my mouth to speak but he held up his fingers to shush me. I watch our daughter enticed by his voice as he reads Hamlet. His eyes following along the words and looking over to me, when he sees a smile placed on my lips he continues his interpretation of the book. I lean against the cart and watch as he continues to be and grow into the father I prayed for my children.

[inthefoxholes]

I completely agree.

I think Solas is one of the big missed opportunities of the game. Overall, there is not much plot - we don’t learn a lot of new things about the world (the opposite is true, it gets flattened), things get less complex (no qunari infighting, no theological discussions in this game!) and less nuanced, companions are badly written - there is really only one main, very straightforward conflict AND IT IS SO BADLY DONE.

Why don’t we learn anything about Elgarnan and I forgot her name? Nothing about their motivation, how they were before, whether they had a genuine vision? They are just mad-bad-evil?

And then Solas. So much potential, like a typical BioWare character. All that banter in inquisition, that showed such a depth of character, playful, insightful, snobbish, inquisitive. And then you learn he’s the fucking DREADWOLF, and suddenly you remember Merrill, who kept cursing the deadwolf, who seemed genuinely afraid of them. And then in trespasser he tries to explain himself, badly and arrogantly, but you learn there’s so much you don’t know, about the Evanuris, the Veil, the Fade. Suddenly, he’s the leader of a popular movement, and elves are disappearing from the cities, which makes him dangerous, but also interesting in a whole other way. Thedas is a sad place at the best of times, maybe revolution is possible? No more plight of the elves, of the mages, of the spirits, of the slaves?

And then comes Veilguard. Solas suddenly works alone, and the only way to get to him - to stop him, this is the only option, there is no possibility to ask him about his plans, his motives - is to awkwardly psychoanalyze him, by watching lame infodumps his memories, and then collectively ponder his regrets. And don’t get me wrong, I actually wanted to know more about Solas, about his regrets concerning the Veil but also the war and the things he felt he had to do. We did not get that, except for the most basic cookie cutter scraps of “he used people as pawns” - did he? Did he always? Under what circumstances? What were his options?

It feels very apropos for this game (not in a good way) that the focus is on analyzing feelings (and how to live with them) instead of actions; Solas could have been so cool, god of lies and freer of slaves, a person containing multitudes, grappling with terrible decisions and the necessary sacrifices and yeah, be changed by this, but no. We get a prison of regret, and Solas perfectly able to kill Mythal in his zealotry, but then be totally reformed by brief contract with rook and see “reason”.

veilguard, i hated it.

So i finally finished veilguard, and guys, what. a. shitshow.

So apart from the fact that it feels like a half-finished game (which it probably is), I mostly hated it on two accounts: 1) the overall lore implications (we knew this from this reddit q&a, but I'm still angry, and I won't stop talking about it) BOTH in regards to previous games and this one and 2) how this was not at all a roleplaying game. (sorry, english is not my first language and I'm tired and enraged)

Let's look a little closer, shall we.

One: The Lore Implications. This pisses me off in two ways:

First, the amateurish attempt at a "clean slate". This is just so insulting. If they wanted to make a game without any of that icky baggage, then the should have chosen a new ip for this. I get that it's complicated after three games with a lot of moving parts, I get that the decision to move away from southern thedas was an attempt to curtail a lot of this, but COME ON. Walls of nonsensical (seriously, they read ai created) text from the inquisitor, that mainly tell you that everything you fought for, all the people, all the places, is gone? And not for effect, not for the story, entirely offscreen and nonsensical, just so the writers don't have to care for this anymore? This does NOT get me invested into the story. No mention of who your Divine is; no mention of who sits on the orleasian throne - and it should matter, shouldn't it, whether or not your EXILED the grey wardens, whether or not you have an elf with a SPY NETWORK close to the orleasian throne, whether or not you DISBANDED the inquisition. All of that does influence what happens on the world state, or at least it should. (And if you want to ignore it, why not do in a way that's less obvious, less bad, why not have your protagonist be someone with no ties to the inquisition, who genuinely does not know whats going on in the south? Why have a world state when you don't want anything to do with it?)

Second, and that's even worse: you cannot take a fully established world, and then alter it to your weird specifications. THE FUCK you mean, there are no slaves in Minrathous, the goddamn slave capital of the world?? Why THE HELL is there a whole questline where we try to find disappeared people, snatched from the street for the ritual, when it should be perfectly possible to buy a few batches of slaves and have them express delivered to your ritual site. (So we can show up and fuck up your slave operation.) But no - I get shamed when I don't save Minrathous?? Well, fuck you, Fenris sends his regards, I hope you all burn.

To this ties the overall simplificaton of the world: Nobody is really bad, just the few super bad guys, but they are so evil as to have no real motiviation, they are basically Thanos or otherwise racist cartoons (totally believable that the Qunari, or a sect thereof, would be on board with mad sorcery). They rest, they are good guys! The pirates are very mindful of cultural heriatages! The crows are just your friendly neighborhood assassins (I remember the stories Zevran told slightly differently), and, as assassins, they naturally wear uniforms, so you see them coming (as do the "secret" "underground" "rebels" from Tevinter). I'm not saying that everyone should be evil, but the fact that whole organisations are presented to us as benefical is so insulting, ESPECIALLY when it was always a point of pride for the Dragon Age franchise that it was morally complicated. There is slavery and poverty and darkspawn. NOPE, you can stand knee deep in blight, not a problem anymore. (if only Carver had known) There is racism against elfs. (well, as the elfs seem to be respnsible for EVERY problem thedas faces, from the veil to the darkspawn, maybe that was precient? - also, always nice to have everything tied in such a neat bow, everything tied to one ONE causality, that makes things really believable and realistic) The Templars are fascists, sure, but abominations are a problem that does not get solved easily. NOPE, not anymore! When before, even a spirit of JUSTICE got corrupted in this world (therby making the valiant and sublte point that abstract concepts rarely hold up well when coming in contact with messy reality), now you can be possessed by a demon of SPITE and HE DOES NOT DO ONE SPITEFUL THING AT ALL. Nice, if only the mages knew that, you just have to accecpt feelings or whatever and then everything's well. SO NEAT!

This brings me to point number two: Why do we play this game? The complex and previously established word is gone; what's left are cartoons thereof. And then, there's not even a hint of role-playing left. Why can't I be mean to Harding?? I loved her in Inquisition, now her overly-girly manner grates on my nerves and I want to be mean to her. I can't, i have to be everyone's friend. In the end, I cannot decide anything, except the slight configuration of the final companion armour (why would I care, I don't know these people, I could not ask them a single question), and some slight cosmetic change regarding Solas - there is not even talk about tearing down the Veil. We've come full circle back to Mass Effect 3 and the groundbreaking decision we get to make is what colour the magic space beam is gonna have. Except, Mass Effect 3 was still a much better game, because you knew your crew - in this game, I have acutally no idea why Rook should lead anybody, why anybody would follow them, and why the literal fate of the world should be in the hands of this bunch of (after 100 hours of gameplay) near strangers. There ARE narrative work-arounds for this kind of shit; the writers just didn't care enough.

There are a hundred more small things I could say about this, about the story (Solas' prison was made of regret and he wanted to put Elgarnan there?? Who feels very good about everything he does?? Is he stupid? And then everyone is so impressed about Rook getting out to quickly, but seriously, what the fuck did Rook have to feel regretful about? They did not get to make a single decision. They did not order anyone to sacrifice themselves; they did not use people, or cities, as pawns in a war or whatever, BECAUSE THIS GAME HAS THE EMOTIONAL DEPTH OF A SMALLISH PUDDLE) and the in-game approach to the player (how often do i have to be told that i need to take care of my companions business?? This got so repetitive and made them seem like imcompetent children. Why wasn't there a better way to make me care, or better yet, trust the player to want to play this game), but I stop now. Fuck Bioware and EA.

[majoryeager104]

Crush!

Part 1 | Part 2

In the context of this hc post

Dabi x gn!reader!

enjoyyyyy

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”you know…twice told me something real interesting earlier”

Dabi watched with a smile as you reacted- a quick pause, and you glanced away for a moment- the only confirmation that he needed that what Twice said had been true.

“and what’s that?”

you asked quietly, glancing back at him with a tilt of your head. You spoke quietly, and yet he could still hear your voice over the sound of the roaring flames next to you, he could hear the nervousness in your tone.

“he said you had feelings for me”

he spoke slyly, and in the flickering blue light he could see your eyes widen, ever so slightly, before quickly your face returned to I rested expression. Far quicker than he’d anticipated, actually.

“sounds like something he’d say”

you said dismissively, lying away the statement, although mentally you were taking note to talk to twice later, and by talk you meant flick his nose as you usually did when you were upset with him. You could never stay mad with the guy for long.

at your dismissiveness, Dabi couldn’t help but pause. He’d been so certain that what Twice had said was true, but your reactions could mean anything. He found himself feeling…sad. Why? It was a good thing that you weren’t harboring feelings wasn’t it? It meant he didn’t have to be awkward around you anymore, and yet…

“I should head back, I promised Himiko I’d watch some rom-com with her later”

“oh yeah? Which one?”

“10 things I hate about you.. she said I’d like it, so I’ll trust her judgement” (my fave istg it’s too good 👌)

“sounds fun. See you later then”

and with that, he watched you leave, waiting till you turned the corner before he kicked some debris on the ground. He stared at the roaring flames for a long while as he thought about what had happened.

Maybe twice had just been messing with him, or talking nonsense. But why would Twice say that if you didn’t actually like him? Was there something missing? Had Twice misread you? No, he’s always good with people, that can’t be it. There had to have been something about you that Twice had spotted if you hadn’t told him, or- or something about Dabi.

Now it was Dabi’s turn to widen his eyes as it hit him like a ton of bricks. Oh shit. He liked you.

All those hours he hung around the hideout waiting and keeping tabs on you, making sure you came back on time, watching your back during missions, looking forward to your check ins whenever he hadn’t seen you, all your wide eyed smiles when you spotted him, and how you always made him feel comfortable and secure even in the biggest of crowds. Maybe Twice had realized that Dabi loved you.

Now, after the realization had hit him, he definitely couldn’t act normal around you.

He found his eyes landing on you way too often, his gaze darting to you at random hours of the day in hopes you were looking back. He found himself more worried about you when you were gone, always checking his phone for your message. Shit, he found himself asking the others about you multiple times a day like a worried parent. He found himself feeling so enamored, so enraptured, and so, so pathetic.

You had begun to notice his glances and worsened worries, but didn’t pay it any mind. I suppose you didn’t realize his feelings now just as he didn’t realize your feelings before. Ironic, but love often is.

so, when inevitably you found yourself glancing at him as per usual, and caught him staring back, needless to say you were perplexed.

It was driving him crazy. The whole thing. You were so oblivious it could kill him on the spot. Was this how you’d felt? No, Twice had lied, there was no way someone like you could love a guy like him…was there?

Eventually, his pining got to the point where he couldn’t be around you. Once again you found he often disappeared when you had just arrived. To you, it seemed like he was upset, and that had you worried, and so, you asked the two other league members present, Twice and Shigaraki, (ofc lmao) what had been going on.

“Dabi? Upset? He always is.”

Shigaraki said bluntly. Twice shrugged, before piping up. “Yeah, last time he disappeared like this, it was after I told him you liked him- OW!”

Twice rubbed his nose after you flicked it, his pout evident through his mask. But he got you wondering what it could mean. Maybe he was still embarrassed about finding out. He’d not brought it up since, but now-

A message beeped on your phone. Speak of the devil, it was from Dabi.

‘hey. Can we talk?’

you quickly responded

‘yeah, in person?’

‘Warehouse off the highway.’

You said your goodbyes to the other two before leaving. You knew exactly where he meant, It hadn’t been the first time you’d been there, considering you just watched him burn it down a few days before.

You arrived quicker than he’d expected, you saw him absently kicking through the ashy rubble that remained after the city cleaned up most of the mess. “Hey” you called out, and he almost jumped at the sound of you, turning around with wide eyes to look at you before he relaxed once more. “Jeez, y/n, you tryin ta kill me?” he chuckled, hands in his pockets as he walked up to you. You could help but laugh “sorry about that”

once he reached you, his face got rather serious. It worried you for a moment, till he finally spoke “about what Twice said the other day…”

here it goes. He’s gonna turn you down and tell you how dumb you’d be to fall for a guy like him. He’s gonna tell you he never thought of you that way and that you should drop it, that he-

“I feel the same”

he said it so quickly and quietly that you couldnt help but pause to process, blinking up at him. What you saw when you looked at his face would shock anyone. A blush. Creeping across his face, under the scars and staples and piercings, he was blushing. And he was blushing a lot.

He felt dumb for telling you. He actually hadn’t intended to- his goal was to pry your feelings out of you, but he’d blurted his confession without a second thought.

You felt dumb for staring so long. Everything was so quiet around the two of you, except for the quiet sound of his breath and yours. But inside your head you were feeling.

“really?”

you spoke quietly, your own face red with blush now. He nodded sheepishly, resorting to looking anywhere but your eyes. You stayed quiet for a moment as he looked back up at you.

“please tell me that ass wasn’t joking”

Dabi said, nervously laughing as his face got even redder. At this, you couldn’t help but smile and laugh, shaking your head. “No, he wasn’t. I like you too, Dabi”

He stared for a moment, the most soft, happy smile you’d ever seen plastered on his face, like a kid who just got exactly what he’d wished for for Christmas. It was cute. But then, the smile faltered

“great” he spoke sheepishly, shoving his hands even further into his pockets as you too looked away in embarrassment.

“It’s not always gonna be this awkward right?”

you laughed, shaking your head “no, it’ll get easier, I think” you blushed, and he smiled back at you, stepping a bit closer. He looked like he wanted to lean in, but stopped himself, instead ruffling your hair. “Good…we should probably get back” he said quietly, tilting his head. You nodded, smiling back.

“…yeah!”

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I love shy Touya so much I can’t even explain it