#Fic: Drunken Dare | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

platinumshawnn · 6 months ago

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to strangers | benjicot blackwood x fem!bracken reader

a/n: yes i am fully aware i should be writing him as davos out of respect for the accuracy of the show and character but i'm still mourning what could have been. also leave it to me to write a little prequel tying this to my own fic a little bit by writing what this guy was really up to on his "hunting trip" lol. have some poorly written smut anyways, if anyone sees that I accidentally called the bracken’s estate “hedge stone” instead of “stone hedge” no you didn’t shut up it’s been fixed

synopsis: benjicot likes to rile up the women he likes i guess

Content warnings: MDNI — 18+, adult language, mentions of blood, violence, and war; era related sexism, smut (fem p in v sex, unprotected sex, degradation) [not proofread]

Word count: 5.5k words

you had never been one for conflict — especially not that of drunken councilmen who became red in the face, knocking over cups and irate over matters of politics as they shouted. despite your father’s efforts to maintain diplomacy and restraint during meetings, it almost always ended in a screaming match at the table these days — even your uncle could not bear to sit through them, and often doubled up on the amount he drank just to sit through them, barely able to walk as he stumbled out.

you were almost always met with apologies from your father as he found you outside the doors of the hall, given a squeeze of hand, and ushered to bed. you did not care for politics, but there was no escaping the recent events — it affected everyone, reaching beyond stone hedge’s walls, but your father the most. he appeared to have aged significantly over the past days, eyes exhausted and on edge whenever she greeted him.

but this particular night had been…a lot more than usual. your cousin, aeron, had come back, shaking as he’d returned from a survey of the lands with your brother; having got into another squabble over the boundaries with some blackwood boys who had dared to come too close to their land, in aeron’s words. the whole thing dripped of theatrics — “that filthy…cunt, benjicot”

your head popped up from the handkerchief you were working to embroider, your mother on your right as the pair of you sat in one of the several cabinet rooms that your father had designated for your lessons as a child; having since used it as an escape from the noise. even your mother had been alerted by the commotion as the boys clamored into the hallway, looking out through the door that had been cracked open to provide some airflow in the room. there, your cousin stood, his nose bloody and still dripping as your father summoned the maester while ranting to your uncle, attempting to shush the boy-knight who was on the border of shouting. your interest was only peaked by the name, sitting up and turning your body towards the three men, ceasing what you had been doing and placing the handkerchief in your lap to listen.

your father had made eye contact with you as aeron continued, grabbing him by the shoulder and reaching to close the door before you could hear as he dragged your cousin away. your mother had encouraged you to continue, the look she gave reminding you of proprietary and of your place — with a curt nod, you had returned to your task.

that had been at midday, and since then, there had not yet been a break. you could hear the shouts from your room, and you could picture your father amidst it all, trying to bring order and peace — a task he was successful in every so often, silence falling over the room and quieting to hushed whispers that would only last a short time before the yelling continued.

sometime before midnight, the silence had ended finally, stood at the top of the stairs as the councilmen dispersed; other members of your house trickled out. you had stayed up, waiting to approach your father, in hopes to get some sort of information on the outcome. but the exhaustion was clear on his face, being met by a soft, “on the morrow, not tonight, my dear.”

he had pressed a kiss to your head and brushed past you, receding to his chambers for the night, leaving you at the base of the stairs. as you went to retreat to bed yourself, you heard the cursing mutters of aeron who had finally exited the great hall doors behind you, still seething after several hours — you were relieved at least to find that his nose had since stopped bleeding.

“aeron,” you called out, turning to descend down the four stairs you had climbed just as he stopped in the hallway towards his own chambers. his eyes found you. you approached him, hand reaching out to grab his face between your fingers, turning to assess his face for any additional injuries you may not have noticed earlier in the day. however, much to your relief, he was otherwise unharmed, “you really ought to stop antagonizing those men— you’re going to get yourself killed.” you scolded, sighing and dropping your hand.

aeron winced slightly, more from the reprimand than any lingering pain. “I can’t just let them insult our family, you know that.”

you shook her head, a mix of frustration and concern in your eyes. “I know, aeron, but there’s a difference between defending our honor and looking for trouble. what good will it do if you’re dead?”

He avoided your gaze, jaw clenching. “I just can’t stand the way they look at us, like we’re nothing and like they can do whatever it is they please. Like they own the riverlands. someone has to stand up to them if your father won’t.”

“standing up to them doesn’t mean getting into brawls. use your head, aeron. we need you alive, not battered and bruised,” you said, your tone softening.

aeron had sighed and muttered something unintelligible, only able to make out a ‘yeah’ before he withdrew to his own rooms.

you had tried to sleep — you did. but at some point, the heat, humid and sticky, had made it impossible to; instead, turning and tossing in your bed, growing increasingly frustrated before you stormed from the bed with a huff. the conversation between you and aeron had been stuck in your head, the sight of him bloodied haunting you — how did benjicot look then? was he unscathed and unharmed?

you knew he had always been stronger, a fiercer opponent but you couldn’t help the worry that plagued you.

you had quickly changed as best you could in the dark, without falling over in a way that would alert the guards; pulling your dress on and watching underneath the door as you smoothed out the fabric, doing your best to be silent in opening the door. peaking your head out and checking that both ways were clear, you slipped out and closed the door behind you, walking on your toes as you snuck through the house and out a backdoor that led into the fields.

you did your best to stay low and out of sight as you bolted through the fields towards the boundary stones, trying to remember who would be on surveillance — you couldn’t for the life of you remember, despite your best efforts to eavesdrop on your cousin's conversation earlier.

hell, you weren’t even sure you would see him.

sometimes you did, other times you didn’t — weeks would pass sometimes before you saw him again. sometimes it was hours before you saw him, sat, pulling at grass as you waited, knees to your chest.

today felt like one of those days, as you approached the river, out of sight from any prying eyes and sat by the edge, your eyes straining to see through the dark. the moon did little to penetrate the dense patch of trees. as the hours passed, your head had begun to drop against your knees, dozing off. there would be no way of keeping yourself awake all night, after a long day, opting as a last ditch attempt to awaken your senses by dipping your toes into the stream as you kicked off your shoes.

the water was a nice welcome in the heat, a content sigh leaving your mouth as you kicked your feet; splashing the water upwards. the wait seemed to drag on forever, growing impatient and trying to decide on whether to return home or not.

you’d give him another hour at most. If he didn’t come, then you would go home.

your gaze scanned the river, serene and peaceful as the rushing body of water sloshed around your feet; cool and refreshing. you’d have time.

you stood back from the water and fumbled to strip down to your chemise, discarding the dress to the grass by your shoes before easing down and into the water, letting out a hiss. slowly, wadding into its shallow depths, you moved forward until the water touched your thighs, lapping at your body as you cupped some of the water between your hands and tossed it up in front of you.

“you’re far from home, lady bracken.”

your head whipped toward the sound of a voice from the treeline, water sloshing around your legs as you faced the boy who the voice belonged to. the ends of your skirt had been released in the turn into the water, feet tangling in the soft sand of the river’s floor, just catching yourself from falling into its rapid rush by the luck of the Gods; the ends of the fabric now soaked by the flowing water that swirled around you. there he stood, barely peeking out from the cover of the trees as if that would somehow conceal his identity, hugging close to the trunk of one while he watched you from his shaded spot. there was hardly any way of seeing him in the night, the moon’s light not quite reaching him but his voice -- you would know that voice anywhere.

you stepped forward, halfway across the shallow depths of the river that flowed between the two lands of bracken territory and blackwoods, the cold water just reaching mid-thigh as you looked up at him, “as are you.” you quipped, heart rate rapid as your heart thrummed against your ribs.

despite the limited visibility, you could see his mouth quirk up in a half-smile, his amusement clear as his head tipped to the side while his eyes continued to watch you closely like some sort of prey. the limited sense of vision allowed you the ability to hear as he inhaled through his nose, breathing outwardly before he finally stepped forward to the edge of the water, his hand at the hilt of his dagger on his hip as his eyebrows rose, “and do you always take moonlit strolls through my land?”

you stilled, hands resting at your sides as your fingers dipped into the cool water below you, the cold nipping at your fingertips, “only when called for— the night was too beautiful to resist.” you replied, chin lifted to look up towards where he towered over you, “and what’s your excuse?”

he snorted, boots shifting against the dirt with as he moved to widen his stance, “the same perhaps,” he said, eyes glancing up to the sky above the riverlands that was littered with stars, “or maybe I was hoping to find a curious lady wandering too close to my territory.” he said, his voice a low rumble.

there was nothing threatening about his tone, however, his body language said otherwise — his eyes scanning their surroundings before looking back to your face, his body suggesting that he was on edge. as though he expected bracken men to burst through the trees behind you any minute. you took another languid step forward, closer to enemy territory, the thrill of it never failing to excite you.

“are you suggesting I’m trespassing?” you asked, your words steady as you bordered taunting the man who eyed you.

you could see as he squinted, narrowing his eyes at your words, “just…observing that you’re quite far from where you’re supposed to be at this hour, my lady.”

you hummed, eyebrows raised as the water continued to lap at the fabric of the cream coloured chemise that had been worn underneath the dress of typical bracken colours of yellow and brown having been discarded at the edge of the grass. you could see the moment his eyes lowered to scan down the length of the fabric, disappearing into the water and drifting higher up your thighs, bordering translucent against your skin, slow in dragging his eyes along the length of your body, “but i suppose the river doesn’t care for borders, does it?” he suddenly asked, his eyes returning to meet yours.

your mouth curved upwards, a wry smile on your face as his gaze emboldened you, “no it doesn’t, but neither do I, it seems. I don’t believe the assize said anything about the river.”

benjicot tutted condescendingly at her, smug as his hands shifted over his dagger, “careful, you're starting to sound like your cousin, bracken.” he warned, tone sharp, “do you not ever worry about what might be lurking in the shadows? his words came lighter now, the tension gone from his voice.

you let out a dry laugh, beginning to feel the effects of the frosty water that reached your hips the further you wadded, a cool breeze causing your skin to prickle with goosebumps. you shivered, sucking in a deep breath through clenched teeth, “only when they carry a dagger and a half-smile, I suppose.” you said.

his hands twitched, the grasp at his blade loosening as he seemed to contemplate reaching forward to drag you from the water at the sight of your shivering frame. however, he stopped himself and instead lifted his chin, mouth pressing into a tight smile, “then its a good thing I’m in a benevolent mood tonight.”

your head lowered to look down at the water, using your fingers to skim its surface, “I will take my chances.” you confidently said, lifting your gaze after a moment of pause.

he let out a ‘hmph’ sound, watching as you slowly closed the gap between the two lands to stand directly in front of him, the water shallow once again and only meeting mid-thigh. the now soaked gown did nothing to provide any ounce of modesty, sheer and clinging to your lower half as you stared up at him. your eyes followed his movements as he crouched, bringing him eye-to-eye as an elbow planted against one of his knees, “well, I suggest you be careful, my lady. the night is full of dangers.” he said, his voice low and quiet.

“and so is the day, but I’ve never been one to shy away from either.” you said, voice matching his volume before you stepped forward until you stood against the ledge, your other hand planting in the grass just between his boots as you lifted your right hand toward him, “are you going to help me or shall I call for my men?” you taunted, a grin on your face.

he rolled his eyes, smile broadening as he stood upright and bent to grab your hand, using his strength to pull you up and over the ledge, out of the waters with ease. you were brought to your feet, stood face-to-face with him, his face leaning close to yours as he spoke, “you wouldn’t dare.” he muttered, “how do you plan then, to explain your presence so close to blackwood land at this hour? alone, in a nightgown, with the heir?”

your chest brushed his as you leaned in towards him, “I’ll figure something out— you underestimate me.”

he hummed with a nod, his nose bumping yours in the close proximity. though his mouth did not yet make contact with yours, his breath fanned over lips, his eyes scanning your face, “oh, I’m sure you will. but do you think they will believe you?” he asked, the lazy smirk on his face laced with arrogance, “do you think there won’t be whispers? said whispers, questioning your maidenhead?”

“they’d be foolish to make such accusations against the daughter of amos bracken.” you countered, shoulders squaring with pride.

the man in front of you let out a sardonic chortle, releasing the hilt of his dagger and finding your hip, gripping the fabric of your chemise in his fist, stepping back and forcing you with him, “oh please.” he mocked, his hand dropping from your hip to reach down to your thigh and begin to hoist the soaked fabric upwards towards your waist, leaving you bear to the elements, “if only they could see their lord’s daughter, out parading herself like some whore on blackwood land. What do you think they would say then, hm?”

“‘Tis not their business what I do, nor my father’s.” you muttered.

“oh but i think they might say otherwise. you’re a noblewoman,” he jeered, his knuckles brushing against the bare skin of your belly as his hand dipped below your naval, “a highborn womb.”

you knew benjicot did not share their views -- in the very few occasions he had opened up during your late night escapades, red in the face with anger, rambling on about the audacity of his councilmen as he dressed. he had ranted about what the very outlook had done to his mother, that women were more than for breeding. but he enjoyed knocking you down a peg sometimes, humbling you back down to earth during these moments. he liked to mock the sanctity of your womanhood, even if for a moment, but then he would go back on himself and praise you once all was said and done — praise the very thing he mocked. However, on this particular night, something about his words lit the flames of pure, feminine rage, staring eye to eye with the man you had visited countless times over the past months.

“I am more than that.” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady.

he let out a melancholic hum, “you think so?”

he spoke to you like you were a child, who lived under the guise of a delusion — like a childish dream that you were expected to grow out of. the tone of his voice, paired by the sudden feeling of his hand between your thighs bred a slew of confusing emotions to spread within your chest; shamed and desperate, humiliated and seething as his fingers found the sensitive bud between folds that were slick with arousal that had you hot with embarrassment, fingers gliding up along your folds as you gritted your teeth, “how dare you—!”

the nature of his words stung when you knew how much he despised when other men looked down on women the way you had grown accustomed to; somehow after he had entrusted you enough to open up to you, he still had the nerve to throw it in your face—

he caught your hand that came up towards his throat, eyebrows raising as if to warn you, a grin on his mouth as his hand between your thighs stilled, “no need to be so hostile, sweet girl.” he said, guiding your hand down to your side as he moved to drive your back towards a tree, that hand coming to hold your chin in the space between his thumb and fingers, “I know you are a brave, resilient woman…” he quietly muttered, face coming close to yours and trapping you between his body and the tree, a knee coming between your thighs.

despite the rage that still burned within you, scorching like a wildfire, the warm contrast of his fingers on cold skin was welcomed; jolting up as his fingers pressed against you, fingers circling the bud and earning a soft sigh of a moan as you reached out to grab him, pulling him closer as though you were trying to crawl underneath his skin and become one. His mouth finally made contact, attaching itself to your throat and placing open-mouthed kisses to the skin, nipping the delicate skin with his teeth as his fingers worked against you.

“my clever, beautiful girl.” he praised, mouth reaching your collarbones.

you belly clenched, another moan elicited by his words as your hands fisted the cloak around his shoulders, his hand moving briefly to tug the fabric of your gown back up and out of his way as it dropped from its place around your hips. benjicot had a way of leaving you breathless and desperate, a flustered mess under his touch, the only man that could draw out the carnal sounds of pleasure; broken sighs and crying out as his middle and ring finger pushed themselves into you.

by the roots of his hair, you brought a hand to the back of his head and tugged him towards your mouth, his lips encapsulating yours in a feverish kiss; all teeth and tongue. you cried out, muffled by his mouth, as his thumb continued the prior pace, rubbing blind shapes into your clit as your mouth dropped open, too distracted by experienced fingers that slipped in and out of you with ease to reciprocate the kiss, “oh—, fuck.”

“yes, just like that,” he encouraged, voice soft. “just relax, my love.”

the weeks of pent up hunger and anticipation for this moment curled within you, settling into your lower belly, thighs attempting to clench around his hand. though you were stopped by the firm, strong thigh that had been planted there to prevent such from happening, his hips pressing into yours.

“ben, please…” you cried out, beginning to become overwhelmed between his mouth that returned to your throat and his hand, his pace increasing.

rather instead, he knelt suddenly, head buried beneath the thin chemise that draped over his head as he leaned into you. his shoulders brushed your thighs as his mouth replaced his thumb’s task, latching to the bundle of nerves and leaving you gasping, gripping his hair as your chest heaved. a low groan vibrated through your core from the man below you, reaching every end and nerve of your body as you struggled to keep up on your feet as your peak washed over you. his arm wrapped up underneath your right thigh, holding you against him and pressing against your hip as if that would somehow ground you as you nearly collapsed against him, your entire body alight as your walls squeezed around his fingers, clenching so tight it could restrict movement.

he was barely any gentler as he reemerged from your skirts, your head slumped back against the tree as he stood to tower over you once more, using the fabric of your gown to hold you up and practically manhandle you up against the tree that scraped your skin with each move. loose strands of hair had freed themselves from the half done up style, hanging in your face as you panted, mouth agape as you looked up at him; lips glistening with the reminisce of you — your cheeks heated with embarrassment, reaching out to touch his cheek.

he was beautiful, especially with you on his lips.

you dropped your hand and pulled him towards you by his hips, using the belt to your advantage to jerk him forward, his own lazy smirk mirrored by your tired smile as your hands fumbled to undo the laces of his pants. he aided in the task, skillful fingers pulling them with ease and shoving his pants down just enough that they sat high on his thighs, freeing his hardened cock from their confinement, your hand instinctively coming down to wrap around the length and stroke him. his lips parted above you, hands coming to cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as his nose nudged yours.

you could have stayed there forever, in that moment — with the sight before you, a flush in his face as he appeared fucked out already, hair in a disarray from your fingers.

he reached across his chest to undo the clasp of his cloak, dropping it from his shoulders; getting rid of the only shield that hid you from any potential prying eyes — if anyone burst through the bushes then, there would be no hiding the act and it would be without any doubt what was happening.

‘parading herself like a whore on Blackwood land’

benjicot would be correct. if your cousins had dared to wander close to the borderlands again, you would be done for. there would be no protecting any ounce of your dignity and modesty at that point — you would be shamed by your entire family, and even worse, your father…he would be beyond furious and nothing less than gutted.

the thought and feeling of sheer shame it brought had you clinging close to the man in front of you, his body easily capable of concealing yours as one hand went above your shoulder to the tree, too blissed out to put an end to this and go home right then as his mouth pressed to yours in a sweet, affectionate kiss. you moaned against his mouth, his hand replacing yours around his cock to glide it up along your slit; gathering the slick as a means to lubricate the head of his cock, that already leaked pre-cum that mingled with your own arousal, the tip red and angry.

you braced against the tree, trying to regain footing, nearly slipping into him. he steadied you with the arm above your shoulder, wrapped around your ribs and forcing your chest against his as he slid into you, earning a gasp, breaths mingling as your own arm wrapped around his shoulders; clutching to him like your life depended on it — and in some ways, it did.

he held you up against the tree, having to shove the fabric of his tunic and doublet high up on his hips out of the way as he thrusted up into yours. each movement of his hips, shallow due to the position, his pelvis brushed against your clit, providing enough stimulation to leave you struggling for air as you fisted his clothing in your hands.

“fuck…” he rasped, lips brushing your own as they parted, each breath from his mouth sucked into your lungs as you relied on him for the strength to stay upright, slumping into him.

you were a jumbled, incoherent series of sounds as any paranoid thought of fearing your cousin's appearance went out the window, all consumed by him. your leg lifted by his hand guiding it by the back of your knee, thigh hooking around his hip and pulling him further, deeper into you and releasing a sob. you felt so full, it physically ached, walls clenching down around him and eliciting a hiss of air from him.

the sound of a branch cracking somewhere in the distance of the bushes caused you to jolt against him, eyes peering over his shoulder, wide and panicked as the thought crossed your mind again just how open you were to being exposed. you had done this time and time again, but never with his own men just several feet from the bush you were hidden among, and never during a war that had everyone on edge. the looming war had your father in particular paranoid, leading to an increase in fleets that surveyed the boundaries of bracken’s land and the thought instilled again, that fear that you could be caught.

as if he sensed your worry, his mouth caught yours in another kiss, forehead pressing to yours, “my love…” he muttered, bringing your attention back to him.

and he was successful, your gaze doing one last scan and straining into the dark before you were faced with his tired, lust-filled face, his cheeks flushed and striking even in the dark. the sweet name swelled your chest with adoration, your breath quick as you let out a moan, spiraling into bliss against him as his hand came between you to once again rub against your clit.

“ben, i can’t— please—“ the sound was weak and feeble, choked out and gasping for air as your body burned.

it was met by deaf ears as he gently shushed you, his mouth grazing yours, cock relentlessly rutting up into you with desperation — seeking for release as your walls fluttered around him. the groan he released was animalistic, deep from within his chest and carnal as you clutched onto him, struggling to keep yourself up against him and pulling him into you; seeking some kind of anchor to keep you grounded as his hand on your clit worked in unfaltering shapes that had you weak.

a final sob of pleasure left you as you clamped down around him, body tense and slumping against his as you released yourself around him. the final plea of his name and your walls were followed by a few sharp, final thrusts as he released his seed into you; fucking it deeper into you with a deep sigh of your name, a hand coming to your throat as he glanced down, his forehead resting against your chin.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

you stepped up onto the riverbank of your family’s side; thighs still aching while benjicot’s hand supported you from behind before he too crawled up behind you, not seeming to care that he was now soaked from his thighs down. He stood back, allowing you a silent moment to wring out your dress of any water as best you could, hands twisting the fabric and letting out a grunt of exertion before letting it drop back down to your feet. You bent to collect your dress, benjicot finally stepped forward to help in your task of redressing, hands smoothing the fabric over your hips and straightening your shoulders with a gaze down, not daring to make eye contact.

you both knew this could have been the last time you saw each other, the dawning realization casting an awkward, tense silence over the two of you as you eyed the fabric of his doublet; making a mental note of its ridges, the pattern of the woven article of clothing. he tensed as you lifted a hand to touch the fabric with your fingers, too intimate a gesture as fingers ran across his chest and up towards his shoulder before stilling there, your palm coming to place over his heart.

“when are you to marry the…” he began to ask, his face screwing up in disgust at the idea as he spat out the name, “Lefford boy.”

you gaze only briefly lifted towards his face when he spoke, a small snort leaving you at his reaction and smiling softly at his antics. The smile dropped after a moment, though, inhaling and sighting out a breath as you straightened out his own clothing with gentle tugs, brushing over the fabrics, “two nights from today.” you quietly replied.

he made a sound of disapproval, his gaze on your face as you finally looked him in the eye again, his hand rising to capture your wrist in his hold. You had heard the whispers as well throughout the halls of stone hedge, trying to picture it as you looked at him, “I hear rumors you’re to be married, too.” you pointed out, his face twitching.

he released your wrist, stepping back and looking towards his feet as he fixed his sleeves, “My father plans to betroth me against my will.” He admitted, his words a grumble as he shook out his arms and looked up at you again.

you nodded, “who? has he said anything of his intentions?”

“some girl.” he admitted, shaking his head with a shrug of his shoulders, cheeks expanding with a sigh, “the lord paramount’s granddaughter, I suppose.”

you smiled, tilting your head as you looked at him, “serra tully, right? that’s her name, yes?”

“unfortunately.” he grumbled in complaint.

“she’s quite beautiful, I hear.”

he shrugged again, letting out another grunt.

“well, you should probably be on your way,” you said, hands folding behind you as he looked across the river, the sun already beginning to come up. “your men will be looking for you soon.”

benjicot nodded, stepping forward and reluctantly reaching out to your waist, fingers gently pressing into your sides as he leaned forward to press a sweet kiss to your mouth, “I will see you soon.” He said as he withdrew from your mouth, face still hovering close.

you raised a hand and pressed it to his cheek, smiling as you looked up at him, “yes. maybe.”

his eyes rolled as you lifted a hand as if to gesture ‘just as I suspected’, looking over you as a sharp whistle sounded from somewhere beyond the trees from his camp, hands dropping from your sides and straightening the belt at his hips; you watched as his fingers went to the dagger at his right hip, removing it from its sheath, much to your confusion. He withdrew it and used his free hand to pull one of yours forward, pressing the blade into your palm and looking at you, “a wedding gift.” He quietly said.

you looked down at the blade, frowning and blinking rapidly a couple of times before looking up at him, mouth opened in a stutter, “benjicot, I- I can’t accept this. you might need-”

“I have plenty back home,” he assured, wrapping your fingers around the handle of it and licking his lips that were then pressed into a line that resembled an amused smile, “have it…in case that Lefford boy ever pisses you off.”

you let out a laugh, a smile coming to his face as your hand dropped from his, the dagger clutched by your side, “very charming of you.”

He chuckled and pressed another quick kiss to your forehead before he brushed past you, hurrying into the river with a splash and sloshing back in the direction he had come from. you watched as he climbed out of the water, entering back out onto blackwood territory and giving one last glance as he retreated back into the trees.

#davos blackwood #benjicot blackwood #davos blackwood x reader #benjicot blackwood fic #benjicot blackwood x reader #kieran burton #house blackwood #benjicot blackwood imagine #ben blackwood #reed writes !

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mrs-elsie-barnes · 1 month ago

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Nothing But Your T-Shirt | Bucky Barnes x Reader | One Shot 1.7k

Natasha dares you to steal one of Bucky's shirts during a drunken sleepover. Natasha is definitely up to something, but maybe revealing your secrets isn't such a bad idea...

Warnings: 18+ for language, sleepover antics, fluff, kissing and suggestive situations. Rated F for fluff and T for tower fic.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

Wanda opened the door of the penthouse with a squeal of excitement.

"Oh my god, you came! Yay! Come in, come in!" She ushered you inside enthusiastically, a large pina colada in one hand, your fingers in the other.

"Hey," Natasha waved from the comfort of the conversation pit, pillows and blankets draped about.

Pepper emerged from behind the bar with a tray of glasses, snacks and a huge smile. "Hi, how are you? Come and get comfortable."

You'd been an Agent level member of the Avengers for a month now. Accompanying them on a few missions and attending briefings. So when Tony declared it was 'boys night' and he was taking the male contingent to a new restaurant, Pepper had rolled her eyes and insisted that you, Wanda and Natasha join her for cocktails in the penthouse.

You were shocked at being included, but Wanda and Natasha had been so welcoming when you'd joined them for a mission the week before that you managed to tamp down your nerves enough to say yes.

Pepper handed out the drinks and insisted of getting your specific order for both pizza and desert before sitting down and finally looking you over. She was a constant presence when you were in the New York Avengers Tower, powerful and confident, always smartly turned out in heels that rivaled the tower itself in height. And you'd always been too nervous to talk to her.

Suddenly you felt hot under the over sized floor lamps.

"So," Pepper grinned, an uncharacteristic move that had you even further on edge. "Natasha tells me you have a crush on Barnes."

You choked on your drink.

"What?"

"Don't play coy," Natasha purred, I've seen the way you look at him, she winked and you couldn't help but laugh.

Wanda giggled around her straw, nodding in agreement. "You do, you're always fluttering your eyelashes at him.

"I do not!"

"Fine, fine," Pepper held her hands up, "if you're not ready to spill, lets do something else. I got my aesthetician to send me some new facial samples, want to try?"

Natasha looked pointedly over the rim of her glass, "this isn't like the egg thing is it because I don't want to put anything up my-"

"Natasha! No!" Pepper cut her off as she crossed the vast room, "behave, I'll be back soon."

Four more pina coladas and a face mask later, you were a lot more relaxed. Lying on one side of the sofa with your arms behind your head, eyes drifting closed until a foot poked you in the side.

"You sleeping?" Wanda whispered with a giggle.

"I think so," your own giggle bubbled up, inhibitions lowered by the drinks.

"Did you bring pyjamas? I have three guest rooms or we can sleep out here." Pepper's voice was excited, higher pitched than you'd ever heard it, the professional edge gone.

The others had already changed before you arrived, but you'd had to travel across town from your apartment and hadn't exactly wanted to get a cab in your nightwear. Looking at them now they were all so similar, matching even in their differences. All in over sized t-shirts. Pepper's had a joke on about electrons. Wanda's was deep red with 'Avengers Tech Institute' printed on the left side. And you were fairly sure Natasha's belonged to Steve, it fell on her shoulders in such a graceful way, showing off her collarbone. They all looked so effortlessly beautiful and, despite the fact you were over dressed, you wilted again.

It'd been so nice to be included and now you felt different again, outside. They all had their partner's shirts on, and you had…red plaid with a tea stain on.

The silence was loud until Natasha sat up, a cheeky grin appearing as she said, "I dare you to get one of James' t-shirts."

"Nat, no, come on." You could feel embarrassment heating you again. Hadn't they decided to ignore this line of questioning?

"Yes! Do it, do it!" Wanda agreed, jumping up and clapping her hands together.

"Officially I feel like I need to put a stop to this, I can't have you breaking in to someone's private rooms."

Natasha raised an eyebrow and glared at Pepper who rolled her eyes in return.

"But unofficially I'm going to go to the bar and whatever you three do while I'm not looking, isn't my fault." She held her hands up and pointedly turned away while Natasha and Wanda fixed you in their sights.

"I couldn't!"

"You know you want to, you likeeee himmm." Wanda sang obnoxiously, poking you again.

"You can, I'll help you." Natasha said, very seriously, grabbing your hand and dragging you to the elevator and leaving you with no choice.

You should probably have been concerned over just how quickly Natasha managed to break into Barnes' rooms. You couldn't think of him as Bucky, or even James as Natasha called him. Not when you were stood looking at his unmade bed, the clothes on the back of the chair and the wobbling stack of books on his bedside table.

He'd left a cookie and a half drunk cup of coffee on the other side where the pillows were propped up against the headboard and a well worn copy of Lord of the Rings was face down in the sheets.

You'd only been close to Barnes a few times, but he always smelt so wonderful, a heady mix of clean vanilla and spice. Soft and welcoming with some deeper thread that made you want to press your nose into the soft crook of his neck and just inhale.

"Quick, pick something he won't notice is gone." Wanda whispered, pulling drawers open in the dark.

"No, no, this!" Natasha held up Barnes' signature henley, ox blood red and so soft. It had frayed around the neck from wear and the cotton was slightly stretched. He wore it almost constantly, despite Steve buying his a petrol blue one for Christmas.

Natasha closed the lid of his laundry basket again and chucked it over to you.

It had that same vanilla scent and, though it also had a hint of sweat, you couldn't help the urge to press it to your face.

"Come on, put it on." Natasha urged, pulling on your tank top to lift it over your head.

The henley was as soft as it looked and, in the brief moment it covered your face, you allowed yourself the inhale that you craved. Bucky, all Bucky.

Getting it over your boobs proved a slight struggle. But once it was settled it hugged them snuggly, allowing your cleavage to peep through the unbuttoned front. It stretched at the hips too and was oddly flattering when you looked into the mirror by the door.

"That actually really suits you."

Natasha nodded in agreement and then paused, completely still.

"Fuck, quick." She ran for the balcony, dragging Wanda with her and you turned in confusion only to be met with light in the hallway and one Sergeant James Barnes, stood stock still in the doorway of his own bedroom, staring at you.

"Sergeant Barnes I -" you struggled to find an excuse, was there really ever an excuse to break into someones bedroom and try on their clothes? Instead you looked away, wondering whether to rip the henley off and try to find your top instead, or whether to try and escape past him.

He licked his lips and paused, carefully choosing his next words, but your name slipped out, unbidden.

Your eyes snapped up to his.

"That shirt looks good on you," his voice was rough when he spoke, like he was holding something back and your body flushed with heat.

"I'm so sorry, I don't know what I was thinking, Natasha -"

He gave a low, dark, laugh.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm sure it's entirely her fault. But you - " He took a step forward and your breath caught in your throat.

"I'll give it back -"

"Please, keep it on." He approached slowly, as if trying to befriend a wild animal that could run at any time.

"I'm sorry -"

He was right in front of you now, still in the suit Tony had insisted he wear, although his bow tie was undone, hanging around his neck, and the first two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, showing a flash of his skin underneath.

"Is Natasha right?" He asked, slowly backing you towards the wall. Each step was calculated. When you staggered back, his left hand curled around your waist to steady you.

"Uhm-" your eyes flicked down to his parted lips and back to his eyes.

"She said she knew a secret, she shared it with me," he watched your every move, carefully leaning you back against his bedroom wall. The hand on your waist tightened, the other toyed with his shirt, still wrapped so closely around your body.

You heaved in a breath and his eyes dropped to your cleavage before lifting to your face. "I'm glad I came back, been dying to see you. Imagine my surprise when I find you all wrapped up in my bedroom like a present."

"Sergeant Barnes," you whimpered and his leg slid between yours, pushing up against you. "What did Natasha tell you?"

"Always so formal, it's okay, I know, you can relax." He bent forwards, nose brushing against your cheek, lips at the shell of your ear.

You let out a shaky breath.

"She told me you have a little crush on me."

It's exactly what you'd imagined she'd said, and yet, the embarrassment was so acute already you thought you might pass out.

"Don't worry," his breath tickled the soft skin behind your ear making goosebumps rise along your arms. "I have a little crush on you too."

You could feel his smile on your cheek when he pressed a kiss there and then his lips were on yours, rough in their excitement, and you couldn't hold back any longer. You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him down towards you, fingers in his hair.

"You can keep the t-shirt," he mumbled against your lips, "but can we lose the pjs?"

You giggled, nodding and broke away only when Wanda and Natasha started banging on the glass, cheering and whooping while you and Bucky smiled, with only eyes for each other.

#Bucky #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x Reader #bucky barnes/reader #bucky x reader #Bucky/Reader #bucky barnes x you #Bucky x You #Bucky Barnes/You #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #buckybarnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x female yn

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little-diable · 8 months ago

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Drunken Minds Sober Hearts - Dean Winchester (smut)

We love a good friends to lovers fic, especially with Dean, don't we? Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Drunk off her face the reader told Dean, her best friend, that she hasn't slept with anybody because she wants him to be her first. But will she admit to that when she's sober too?

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, loss of virginity, outdoor, oral (f), friends to lovers

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (about 2k words)

The cold breeze teased her arms, leaving (y/n) shuddering with her back pressed to the blanket and her eyes focused up ahead. Even though Dean emanated enough warmth to make her feel his closeness, deep down she knew that she wasn’t trembling like a leaf because of the cold, but because of the awfully intimate touch this moment had to it.

No words were spoken between the two as they kept staring at the night sky, trying to count the stars that were twinkling for them only—or at least that’s what it felt like. She felt Dean’s hand close to hers, about to touch, about to interlace their fingers, and yet neither of them dared to cross the distance between them just yet.

Dean had asked her hours ago if she trusted him and if he could take her somewhere to distract them from past hunts and exhausting weeks. And who was she to say no to Dean Winchester—her best friend, her better half, her one true love—even though he knew nothing of the feelings she harbored for him.

“There’s something I wanted to ask you.” Dean cleared his throat, letting his head roll towards her as he spoke. She didn’t reply, only looked at him as she waited for him to continue.

“I don’t think you remember much of Saturday night. But you said something to me, something I can’t stop thinking of.” Heat rose to her face as Dean’s words began to sink in. Saturday night hadn’t been her proudest moment; with too many shots poured down her throat, she had eventually lost control, blabbering away things she now couldn’t remember.

“Is it true that you haven’t allowed anybody to touch you because you want me to be your first?” She choked on her breath, having to sit up to try and let some air flood through her aching lungs. Her body was burning up in embarrassment while she made a silent promise to never drink again. She felt Dean’s hand on her back, softly rubbing circles on the fabric of her sweater as she tried to calm down.

“Did I really say that?” (Y/n) couldn’t look at her best friend and was trying to figure out how she could get the ground to open up and swallow her whole. But before she could even begin to plan her escape, Dean’s hand had found her chin, tilting it up for her to look at him.

“Hey, that’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Her words got stuck in her throat as Dean’s thumb found her mouth, carefully pulling her lower lip from the grasp her teeth had on the thin skin. Both looked at one another as if they could read each other’s minds, deciphering every emotion flushing through their systems, emotions that urged their movements as Dean’s lips found hers.

Dean didn’t allow her to break away as he pulled her into his lap, slowly feeling (y/n) relax in his grasp. Her arms found their way around his neck, getting lost in a kiss both had only imagined but never dared to speak of. The kiss was slow, allowing both to adjust to the sensation and yet it was urged on by their longings and fears, by whatever had managed to hold them back for the past years.

“I need you to be honest with me, sweetheart. Was it the truth?” Dean murmured his words against her slightly swollen lips. His hands kept a tight grasp on her, fingertips running along the seam of her sweatshirt, about to disappear beneath the thick fabric.

“It is the truth, and I’m sorry for drunkenly dumping that on you.” She tried to look away, tried to focus on anything but Dean, but the hunter’s grasp only grew tighter, not daring to let her go. Another kiss was pressed against her lips, a kiss that drew a soft moan from (y/n), a sound that gave Dean the needed push to flip them around. Their eyes held contact as Dean hovered over her, admiring every part of her frame.

“We shouldn’t do this out here, you deserve a bed, something comfortable.” The concern dripping from Dean’s words left (y/n) chuckling, she pulled him back down for a kiss, and let her legs wrap around his waist to feel his growing erection against her covered heat. Both moaned in unison from the new friction this movement offered, a sensation so addicting, (y/n) knew there was no way to ever let go of Dean again.

“I don’t need a bed, Dean. I just want you, and to be honest, something boring isn’t our style anyway, is it?” His chuckles vibrated through her body as Dean kissed his way down her throat, letting his hands pull her sweater up to her chest. The groan that clawed through him was raspier than any sound she had heard before, allowing her eyes to wander over his handsome features while his eyes focused on her naked, braless chest.

“You’re fucking beautiful, (y/n).” No longer did she feel the cold breeze stroking her, no longer did she pick up on the whispers warning her of the way she’d lose herself tonight. All (y/n) could focus on was Dean, the man who had always owned her heart, the man she’d give her life for.

(Y/n)’s head rolled back as his lips found her naked chest, sucking on one hardening nub while his free fingers took care of the other. Dean wanted to comment on how perfectly she fit into his hands, how it felt as if she had been created for him only, but his words got stuck in his throat as his middle moved against hers again, creating just enough friction for the both of them.

“Can I taste you? Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that for years.” Dean’s whispers left (y/n) choking on her gasps, unable to reply with any words. All she could do was shoot him an eager nod while raising her hips for Dean to pull her jeans down her legs. Once again, a growl managed to break out of Dean, a sound that forced (y/n) to drown in the different sensations she was held hostage by.

“You’re soaked, baby.” The comment drew a whine from (y/n), she had to grasp the blanket, had to find something to hold onto before she’d grow too eager, needing to feel whatever Dean could offer her.

His warm fingers pushed her soaked panties aside, he gave himself a few moments to study her, hoping that he could burn this very image into his mind – forever remembering it as if he were a blind man being offered his sight back for only a handful of seconds. And for that, he’d always choose (y/n), studying the woman he felt deeply connected to.

Dean’s tongue brushed against her pulsing bundle, leaving (y/n) moaning. He ate her out with an unfamiliar kind of urgency, offering her a glimpse into what was awaiting her. Heaven – the pearly gates – or simply the love both couldn’t deny any longer.

Whatever it was, it pushed her closer towards Dean, hearts and souls connected.

“Dean,” (y/n) sobbed his name as he pushed two fingers into her tightness, letting them curl against the swollen spot he instantly managed to find. With her back arched off the blanket, and her thighs quivering, (y/n) forced her eyes back up to the night sky. She needed to focus on something else, keeping herself from giving in way too quickly.

She had never allowed another man to touch her like this, deep down she had been too stuck on the possibility of Dean loving her, holding onto the thinnest thread of hope that had been close to snapping – a thread that now got woven into a thick rope, unable to ever snap apart.

Her shaking fingers found his hair, tugging on the roots to draw a raspy groan from Dean, a sound that forced her gaze back down to him. And as they looked at one another, pupils filled with love, adoration, and longing, (y/n) felt herself being pushed over the edge. She came with a cry, had to squeeze her eyes shut to hold onto this feeling, the blinding sensation that had never felt this strong when she had touched herself to the thought of Dean.

“Jesus, Dean. What even was that?” The sound of his chuckles echoed through the night. He moved up her body to find her lips for a kiss, letting their tongues tangle as she tasted herself on the strong muscle. Her hands disappeared beneath his shirt, feeling his muscles tense beneath her touch.

“Only the beginning, sweetheart.” He let go of her to undo his belt before reaching for his wallet to pull a condom free. She took it from his grasp while he freed his twitching cock from the confines of his trousers, staring down at (y/n) whose eyes had that special twinkle to them. His heart swelled in his chest at the mere sight of her, grateful that he finally got a chance to express his feelings, to leave his anxiety behind – all so he could love her the way she deserved to be loved.

Their eyes held contact as she rolled the condom down his aching length with shaking fingers, as she laid back down on the blanket, and as Dean positioned himself at her entrance.

“Tell me if it hurts too much, I’ll be careful.” (Y/n)’s arm found its way around his neck to pull Dean down for a kiss. The second their lips met, he pushed into her, drawing a pained whimper from her. He held still for a moment, allowing her to adjust before he kept on moving, sinking further into her tightness.

“Fuck, you’re so tight. You feel so good, baby.” Dean’s gritty voice left her walls clenching around him, wordlessly begging him for more. With his weight shifted onto his forearm, Dean started moving quicker, adding more strength to his thrusts to draw the sweetest moans from (y/n).

“Don’t stop, don’t ever stop touching me, Dean.” She sobbed her words as her fingernails began leaving crescent shapes on his neck. (Y/n)’s thighs quivered around his waist, she was torn between all different sensations, unsure what to focus on, while her second orgasm was close to flushing through her all too quickly.

“Touch yourself, make yourself cum on my cock.” His command left (y/n) gasping, forcing her eyes back up towards Dean’s green ones. The smirk playing on his lips was enough to leave her sweating in need while feeling him buried oh so deep inside of her. She rubbed her pulsing bundle with quick movements, set on pushing herself over the edge while Dean fucked her into the blanket.

“Dean,” his name left her lips like a prayer, in desperate need of guidance, unsure what to do with the massive wave of emotions which were about to flush through her. And with another whine leaving her, (y/n) came for Dean, allowing him to watch her unfold right in front of his eyes. He kept fucking her, didn’t want to give in before he had managed to push her through the intense sensation, only as she relaxed beneath him did Dean finally give in with her name leaving him.

“Promise to hold onto me forever, Dean.” (Y/n) panted the words with a smile glued to her lips. Her fingers brushed through his hair, desperate to keep on feeling every part of him.

“Let the stars be my witnesses, I promise to love you till the day I die, sweetheart.”

#Dean Winchester smut #Dean Winchester x reader #Dean Winchester imagine #supernatural

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salfishersface · 1 year ago

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Fun With Friends || Larry Johnson || Sal Fisher

Synopsis - A game of truth or dare turns into something more with your best friends Sal Fisher and Larry Johnson. {NOT a Sal x Larry fic!}

Warnings - NSFW.

Notes - Characters are aged 18+!

Word Count - 5k.

{Caffeinate Me}

You were sitting in Larry’s bedroom in the basement flat of Addison Apartments with both Larry and Sal. The three of you were smoking, drinking and generally just having a good time. It was four in the morning and there was no sign of anybody going to sleep when Larry piped up, “let’s play truth or dare.”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully. It was such a childish game and yet, you couldn’t help but say yes to him. Sal looked to Larry in confusion and asked, “how do you play?”

“You’ve never played truth or dare?” Larry asked, watching as Sal shook his head while he tightened the loosening prosthetic to his face. You sighed to yourself at this movement. You wish Sal felt more comfortable around you to remove his prosthetic after all, you’d been friends for years. However you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by bringing up the subject. Larry went on to explain the game to Sal, “it’s simple, really. We each ask each other, ‘truth or dare’ and whichever one they pick, we give them! Y/N, let’s go first, show him how it’s done.”

“Alright,” you shrugged. “Larry, truth or dare.”

Larry thought for a moment, stroking the small hairs on his chin. “Erm, go on then. Give me a dare.”

Now it was your turn to think. You thought hard, looking around the room for potential dares when your eyes settled on the whisky bottle in front of you. You leaned over to Sal and whispered in his ear so Larry couldn’t hear. When Sal nodded, you pulled away and looked at Larry with a grin. “We dare you to drink that whisky, without stopping, for ten seconds.”

“That’s it?” Larry chuckled, grabbing the half-empty bottle of whisky from the floor.

“I don’t think you can do it,” you said playfully, folding your arms.

Larry opened the bottle of whisky and gave it a sniff before responding. “Well prepare to eat your words.” Larry smiled before he began to chug the bottle of whisky and you and Sal counted down from ten. This was more so to try and put Larry off, but that man was determined to never break a dare. And just like that, his ten seconds were up. When he pulled away from the whisky bottle, Larry made a face of utter disgust but with equal amounts of playfulness. “Tastes better with lemonade that’s for sure,” he chuckled as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

You were half impressed with your friend and nodded slowly. “Well, I didn’t think you’d be able to do it.”

“So… What happens if you fail a dare?” Sal asks, cocking his head to the side.

“You shook your head and laughed. “Nothing Sal-”

“You’ll just be known as a chicken forever and we’ll lose all respect for you,” Larry interrupted jokingly. You pushed Larry in the side, causing him to fall off the bed and onto the ground with a drunken giggle.

“I think I’ll take a truth then,” Sal said, smiling underneath his prosthetic.

Larry stood up and sat back onto the bed next to you while flashing his friend a toothy grin. “Alright Mr Straight A’s. Did you ever cheat on a test when we were at school?”

You could see Sal’s eyes widen through the holes of his prosthetic. He wanted to lie and say no, but what fun would the game be if he lied when he was supposed to tell the truth. So, he nodded. “Once, yeah. It was on a physics test.”

“Why did you do that? You were great at school!” Larry laughed, pouring himself another glass of whisky and lemonade for the three of you.

“That can be another truth for you and I’ll tell you,” Sal smirked, winking at his best friend before turning to you. “Okay, Y/N. Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you said, not even hesitating.

The two men looked at each other and Larry nodded, signalling that he had a truth for you. “Do you have a favourite best friend?” He asked, pointing between himself and Sal.

You chuckled and shook your head. “No. I love you both equally.”

“Come on Y/N, that’s no fun!” Larry pouted, watching as you took a sip of your drink.

“Next time, ask me a better question then,” you remarked. “Okay Larry, it’s you again. Truth or dare?”

“I pick dare,” Larry said immediately.

“Erm,” Sal thought before raising up a finger, signalling he had a dare for Larry. “Try to lick your elbow!”

“Sally, that’s a shit dare,” you said, smiling widely at him.

“It’s all I could think of,” Sal said with a shrug, smiling back at you awkwardly.

But once again, Larry wasn’t one to break a dare and so, he attempted to lick his elbow. He failed miserably. You and Sal burst out laughing. “Ha ha ha, so funny. Larry can’t lick his elbow!” Larry said sarcastically, returning his arm to his side.

“No, no, it’s not that. It was just the look of pure determination on your face!” You squealed, leaning towards Sal and pulling the same facial expression that Larry had pulled. Sal’s laughter echoed through the room whilst Larry pouted at the pair of you.

“Alright alright,” Larry said in an attempt to get you to stop mocking him. “Sal it’s your turn, truth or dare?”

“Truth, again.”

“Are you crushing on anyone right now?” Larry asked, watching as Sal lifted up his prosthetic slightly so he could take a large gulp of his drink.

When he had finished drinking, he placed the glass on the bedside table and nodded shyly. “Big time.”

“Oh my God!” Larry exclaimed. “Who is it? Why haven’t you told me?!”

Sal found himself shrugging, “I didn’t think it was important to be honest with you.”

Larry looked confused. This was major news and he wanted to hear more about it but you interrupted, a frown on your face. “If Sal doesn’t want to tell you who his crush is, then leave him alone.”

Larry stuck his tongue out at you before asking, “do you know?”

“Not a clue,” you said truthfully, shaking your head.

“Hmm, fine. But one day Sally Face, your secret will become common knowledge to me,” Larry said, his voice joking threat. “Your turn Y/N.”

“I think I’ll go for dare this time,” you grinned, nodding your head feeling confident. The last two dares had been easy ones, ones you would kill for, so you thought your two best friends would go easy on you. But no, Larry had to be Larry.

“I dare you to take off your shirt,” Larry said with a sly grin.

You looked between your friends, shock laced your face. “My shirt?” You asked, tugging at the bottom of your shirt anxiously. Larry nodded, a mischievous grin on his face while Sal gulped down a lump in his throat. There was no way you were actually going to do the dare, right? You sighed and began to slowly remove your shirt, exposing your bra to your two male friends. Both of their eyes widened and Sal was thankful for the prosthetic covering his face because he was undoubtedly bright red.

“Huh, I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” Larry said, biting his lip as his eyes raked across your chest.

“Didn’t want to be known as a chicken,” you replied, trying to act calmly as you took a sip of your drink. You sat awkwardly looking down at your chest before glancing at your friends. “What? Neither of you have seen a bra before?” You joked, but they both shook their heads. You were slightly taken back by your friends answers, but just nodded your head and covered your chest with your arms before returning to the game. “Alright Larry, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

You didn’t confer with Sal this time. After his little confession of never seeing a bra before, you had the perfect question. “Have you ever had sex with somebody?”

That wasn’t the sort of truth question Larry was expecting you to ask and he was slightly taken back by it that he ended up choking on his drink. “W-What?” He stuttered, wanting to make sure he had heard you right before confessing that he had indeed, never had sex before.

“You heard me, have you ever had sex?” You repeated your question again, this time more slowly.

Sal looked down at his feet awkwardly, tearing his eyes away from your half-exposed body as Larry shook his head and answered. “No. I’ve not. I mean, I’ve kissed girls but never actually had, you know, sex.” You smirked somewhat triumphantly. It felt as if you had gotten revenge for your dare, but little did you know this just meant Larry was about to ramp up the game.

“Alright Sally Face,” Larry slurred, the alcohol getting to him now. “Truth or dare.”

“Dare,” he said stoically, although he already feared what his dare was going to be.

“I dare you to take off your prosthetic and show our lovely Y/N here your face,” Larry said.

Your eyes widened at Larry’s dare for Sal and you shook your head. “Sal, you don’t have to do that-” you started, holding your hand out to touch his shoulder gently in a reassuring manner. But Sal was already removing the straps on the back of his head. When his prosthetic fell off onto the floor, Sal didn’t look at either you or Larry. He kept his head down and his eyes on the ground before downing the rest of his drink. That’s when he looked at you, flashing you an awkward and yet somewhat apologetic smile. You leaned in closer to your friend, pressing a soft kiss to his scarred cheek. “You’re beautiful, Sally.”

“Y-You think so?” He asked through a slurred stutter. You pushed some strands of blue hair away from his face and nodded, a soft and gentle smile gracing your lips.

“That’s cute,” Larry snickered. “I dare you to kiss now.”

“But I was going to pick truth-”

“I picked for you,” Larry shrugged.

You sucked in a deep breath and looked at Sal, a silent way of asking him for permission. He nodded to you, indicating that he was okay with it although he was shaking slightly from anticipation. You were so beautiful to him, and even more so with his prosthetic off. He could see every inch of you and he was loving it, and to know that you weren’t scared or repulsed by him just made his heart sing. You shuffled closer to Sal and wrapped your arms around his neck before pressing your soft, wet lips against his chapped ones. Sal didn’t know what to do with his hands, but he settled on placing them on your bare waist gripping ever-so-slightly. Meanwhile, Larry watched the two of you share a sweet, yet clumsy kiss. You stayed like that for a few moments, allowing yourself to get lost in the feeling of his lips on yours before you pulled away. As you did, Sal smiled softly at you, licking his lips. He had been rendered speechless.

Larry spoke up once again, a mischievous smile on his lips. “Now, I dare you to kiss me.”

You turned your head to look at him, eyes wide. You looked at Sal before looking at Larry once more, nodding sternly. You moved from Sal, shuffling across the bed to Larry’s position. Before you even bent down to kiss him, Larry’s hands were already on your waist pulling you down on top of his body. The kiss with Larry was more forceful than the kiss with Sal, but it was equally as clumsy. Larry became a little more suggestive as his hands moved along your hips, stroking them before sliding up your back to unhook your bra. A gasp of surprise tumbled from your lips as your bra slipped down your arms and off of your chest, leaving you completely bare to your best friends.

“But what about the game?” You asked, pulling away from Larry’s lips to look between him and Sal.

“Fuck the game,” came Larry’s response as he kissed you again. His tongue poked into your mouth and swirled around, savouring the taste of whisky and lemonade on your breath. Both Larry and Sal felt themselves harden at the sight of your exposed chest and Larry couldn’t hold himself back. His hands moved from the top of your back to your chest, pawing desperately at your tits. Then, his lips moved to your neck and Larry began to suck and bite at the soft flesh separating him from your jugular vein. You turned your head to the side to give Larry better access to your neck, taking the opportunity to look at Sal. A soft whimper escaped you as your eyes met Sal’s and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself making any more noise. You could feel the wetness growing between your legs at both Larry’s movements and the way Sal was watching you intensely. As Larry continued to kiss up and down your neck, you used your forefinger to beckon Sal towards you. He hesitated but slowly made his way over to your side. You turned the top half of your body to face him, still sitting on top of Larry and grabbed Sal’s shoulders, pulling him towards your lips again. This time, the kiss was much fiercer. A whimper of surprise left Sal’s lips as he welcomed the kiss, your tongue trailed his bottom lip begging for entrance. Larry looked up from your neck to see you making-out with Sal and in response, bit down hard on your neck.

“Larry!” You shrieked softly between Sal’s lips. Sal’s eyes widened at the sound of your voice, the mixture of pain and pleasure evident in your tone only seemed to turn him on even more. His cock twitched in his jeans, begging to be released. Your lips moved against Sal’s desperately wanting a reaction from your best friend. Larry continued to palm at your chest as he sucked on your neck, flicking your nipples between his fingertips.

You pushed Larry away and quickly manoeuvred yourself off of his body and grabbed the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down slowly to reveal his grey boxers. His cock strained against the tight fabric and you could see a wet patch starting to form around his tip as the result of the pre-cum. Larry’s breath was shallow as you finally took off his trousers, eyes gazing up and down your body. He felt slightly embarrassed that you were seeing him in his boxers, but he wasn’t complaining. He had thought about this moment countless times. Once Larry was completely naked and gasped at the coolness of the air against his cock, you turned to Sal and smiled sweetly at him. “Your turn.”

Sal gulped and nodded, allowing your fingertips to grace across his crotch as you unzipped and unbuttoned his jeans almost effortlessly. “Please Y/N,” Sal whispered, his voice barely audible.

As you began to slide his jeans down his muscular legs, you raised an eyebrow at him and asked, “what?”

“If we’re really doing this, I don’t want to be teased for my first time, please,” he moaned. Sal’s boxers were looser than Larry’s, but you could still see his distinctive hardened length twitching at your touch. You finally tugged off Sal’s jeans and boxers and threw them across the room to meet Larry’s sweats.

You looked between the pair of them and smiled sweetly. “Who wants my mouth first?”

The pair looked stunned and looked at each other, silently deciding. After a few seconds, Sal nodded and Larry spoke up. “Me.” You looked at Sal, making sure he was okay with being second, but he just shrugged. As long as he got you, he didn’t care. That was all the confirmation you needed to start moving back towards Larry. You teasingly lowered your mouth around him and looked up with your eyes to see Larry staring down at you. Once your lips touched the head of his cock, Larry couldn’t stop the moans. “Oh fuck,” he hissed, watching intensley as you lowered your head between his legs and wrapped your mouth around his length. Your mouth was so warm and wet around his hard dick that he wanted to cum immediately. Larry couldn’t help but grab your hair and keep your mouth still around him for a moment while he got used to the feeling of your mouth. Once he felt he was ready, he pushed your head further down, causing his cock to hit the back of your throat. You gagged slightly, but took his cock expertly. Sal was watching you the entire time, his hand hovering over his own cock desperate to relieve the itch he was feeling. Larry looked at Sal and grinned as he began to thrust in and out of your mouth. You closed your eyes as you began to suck, swirling your tongue around the tip and licking up the droplets of pre-cum oozing from the head. “Oh God.”

You opened your eyes and looked up to see Larry in a state of complete bliss. His eyes were now screwed shut and his mouth was hanging open for the silent moans to leave his throat. You looked at Sal, mouth still around Larry, and held out one of your hands. Sal looked confused and tilted his head to the side, but found himself moving closer to you. From what you could see, Larry and Sal were quite similar in size but Larry’s cock was much fatter whereas Sal’s was thinner. Your hand wrapped around Sal’s skinny length and you began to pump experimentally as you continued to suck on Larry as if he were nothing but a lollipop. Both of the men were moaning your name in perfect harmony, it almost made you laugh at how easily you had gotten them in this state.

After a few more moments, Larry gasped. His eyes shot up and he jerked his cock out of your mouth. You looked at him in confusion but he quickly answered your silent question. “I was going to cum.”

“I think I’m nearly there myself,” Sal whispered, biting his lip.

You removed your hand from Sal’s cock and looked between the pair of them, shaking your head. “Not yet. Neither of you.”

Sal couldn’t help but groan as your small hand moved away from him, a cry of desperation leaving his lips. “Why not?” Sal asked, bucking his hips up in the air.

“Want you cum inside of me. Both of you,” you said, eyes narrowing. Both Larry and Sal widened their eyes at your words and looked at each other.

“Y/N… Are you sure?” Larry asked, earning a nod of approval from you. Sal didn’t say anything, just watched on in surprise as you began to take off your pyjama pants and underwear. Was this really happening? This was a dream come true for both of the men in your presence that they almost had to pinch themselves to make sure they weren’t dreaming.

Once you were completely naked, you looked between your best friends. You weren’t as nervous as you thought you would be but maybe it was the alcohol coursing through your veins. You couldn’t be sure though. You lay down on the bed and spread your legs wide, waiting for one of them to make the first move. Of course it was Larry. He pressed his lips to your lower leg and trailed up your thigh, stopping right before your cunt. You were about to look down to see what he was doing, when you felt cool air against your folds. Larry had blown on you and it had sent a shiver of pleasure up your spine, causing you to open your legs further. Larry grinned devilishly at you before plunging his tongue against your folds. You gasped and cried out, grasping at the sheets below you. Larry was relentless against your cunt, lapping and sucking like a dog starved. You never would have thought that this was his first time eating pussy, but it was. Sal waited patiently, watching and licking his lips as the sight of your legs quivering over Larry’s shoulders.

“Does that feel good?” Larry asked you as he began to nibble on your clit. You couldn’t form a coherent sentence for the life of you, so you just nodded excitedly. Your hands made their way to his long, brown hair and tugged lightly. This made Larry groan and another wave of pleasure spread through your body at the sensation.

“I think she likes it,” Sal mused, more so to himself than to Larry, but Larry heard and nodded. His hands grasped your hips, hard enough to leave bruises but you didn’t care. You pushed Larry’s head further into your cunt and revelled in the feeling he was giving you.

“Oh Larry!” You cried out. “I’m going to cum if you keep on going like that.”

“It’s that easy to make you cum?” Larry teased, but you didn’t hear him. Instead, you came. Harder than you ever had before. Your hands on Larry’s hair tightened and you let out a yelp as you squirted over Larry’s face, and that man didn’t waste a drop. He slurped you up like a cold drink on a summer's day. When you came down from your high, Larry was laying on top of you, staring into your eyes. “Oh you look so hot when you cum Y/N. Doesn’t she Sally Face?”

Sal nodded and let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. Yeah she does.” Sal’s hand was now wrapped tightly around his cock as Larry slicked the tip of his head against your soaked folds, lubricating himself.

“I already know you’re going to feel so good,” Larry mumbled to you, pressing his lips against yours as he slammed into you. You let out a choked cry and threw your head back against the mattress, eyes meeting Sal’s.

“Larry, wait!” You whimpered, attempting to stop his hips from moving. You were being stretched and were fuller than you have ever been before that it hurt, but it hurt so good. Larry halted his movements when he saw the tears in your eyes.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He asked, panic lacing his voice.

You shook your head and smiled at him. “No I’m okay, just… Just give me a minute to adjust before you carry on.”

Larry nodded in response and Sal came over to your side to begin literally kissing your tears away. “You’re okay,” Sal cooed, his hand stroking your head gently. You wanted to reply, but you couldn’t and that’s when Larry started moving again.

Larry’s pace was brutal. Fast and snappy, just like him. He had been craving this moment since he learnt what sex was and now that it was finally happening, he was going to give it everything he had. Your hands flew up from the bedsheets to Larry’s back, scratching down his skin and definitely leaving marks. Moans tumbled past your lips as Larry continued his strokes, his eyes never leaving yours with each movement he made. It was romantic, in a weird way. Sal continued to pump at his cock as he watched Larry pound into you, eagerly awaiting his own turn. “Fuck you feel so fucking good,” Larry growled as he dipped his head against your neck and began to bite yet again.

“Larry, oh God Larry!” You cried out, almost screaming. It was a good job that Larry lived alone and in the basement, because you definitely would have woken people up with the noises you were making. The bed began to creak and you feared for a second that it would break from the sheer intensity of Larry’s thrusts, but it held. The headboard, however, began to slam against the wall which only spurred on your arousal. Sal tilted his head to the side as he watched Larry’s cock emerge from your cunt before disappearing again, a sheer coat of wetness ringed around the base of his cock from your arousal and it was obvious that you were close to cumming again. Larry was close also, but he wanted to hold on for you. He wanted to give you one more orgasm before he finished inside of you, so he pulled his cock from your pussy and slipped two fingers inside of you with ease. He began pumping ruthlessly, your breasts bouncing from the force.

“You’re making it so hard not to cum right here and now,” Larry grumbled. It was then that he felt you clench around his fingers and he knew that you were cumming. You tried to vocalise it, but you had definitely been fucked dumb and could only nod. “Okay. I’m going to cum now, okay?” Larry said to you in a soothing voice. You looked at him through glossy eyes and opened your mouth to beg for him but all that came out was a loud shout as Larry slammed back inside of you, continuing his ruthless pace. Your walls fluttered around Larry’s cock and within seconds he was spurting hot ropes of cum inside of you, moaning your name repeatedly as his head fell against your neck. His hips slowed down to a halt and after a few seconds, Larry pulled out of you. His hands caressed your face and hair as he pressed his lips to yours in a slow, passionate kiss. Then, he sat up and turned to Sal with a grin on his face. “Your turn.”

You lay on the bed completely breathless as Larry rolled off of you and Sal climbed on to you. “Y/N, you with me?” Sal asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “I’m with you. Please Sal.”

Sal smiled softly at you before slowly inserting himself inside of you, stretching you in a different way to Larry. His pace was slow and sensual, loving almost. As if pouring all of his emotion into making love to you. Sal’s lips were on yours in an instant and you immediately kissed him back. Your hands wrapped around his neck pulling him as close as possible all while Larry lay on the bed next to you and poured himself another whisky and lemonade. “God I love you. I love you so much,” Sal whispered against your lips. Your eyes widened at his confession, but you couldn’t say you were totally surprised. You let out a gasp as the tip of Sal’s cock stroked your cervix and you fell apart immediately.

“Sally,” you whimpered breathlessly, hands locking through his blue hair. Sal pulled away from your lips and rested his forehead against yours, eyes staring into your soul as he continued to thrust his hips against you. The pleasure felt too good that tears began pouring from your lower lash line.

“Shh you’re okay,” Sal cooed, pressing his lips against your forehead. You smiled at him in reply and pressed a hand to his scarred face.

“You’re so beautiful Sal,” you whispered, causing him to tear up.

“I’m glad you think so,” he let out a breathy laugh and bit his lip as he sped up his pace slightly.

“Touch my clit,” you whispered to him. Sal trailed a hand down the front of your body and rested it between your legs, fingertips fumbling across your clit clumsily. Although he didn’t know what he was doing exactly, it felt good. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t stop,” Sal reassured you. “I won’t ever stop.” At those words, you felt your third orgasm approaching. You prompted Sal to move his fingers faster across your bundle of nerves and he did, finally pushing you over the edge. You cried out his name with a sob as you gushed around him, wetting the bed sheet and a bit of his torso. Sal smiled lovingly down at you as he felt your pussy clench around his cock. “Can I cum? Can I cum Y/N, please?”

“Yes Sally, please cum,” you begged, continuously nodding your head. Sal sped up his pace again, the headboard snapping against the wall once more. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and with a loud growl, he came. You felt his cock twitch inside of you, swear you could feel his creamy load filling you up until you physically couldn’t take anymore.

Panting, Sal kissed your cheek and your lips before whispering to you. “I love you Y/N.”

You let out a sob at his words and pulled him close to you, not allowing his cock to slide out of you just yet. You could feel him softening inside you, felt his and Larry’s mixture trickle down your thigh. It was definitely a feeling that you could get used to. Eventually, Sal moved and lay down next to you on the bed. He stared at the ceiling before he looked at you. You were already asleep, snoring ever so softly. Sal watched as your chest rose and fell with each breath you took, completely enamoured by you.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Larry asked quietly, looking at Sal over your naked body.

“Hmm?” Sal asked, biting his bottom lip as he turned his head to face his best friend.

“The person you’re crushing on. It’s Y/N, isn’t it,” Larry questioned, although it was more of a statement than an actual question. He already knew the answer.

“Of course,” Sal mumbled, laying down and throwing an arm over you. He was careful not to wake you with his movements.

“I… Think I love her too,” Larry confessed, gulping the rest of his drink before laying his head down on the pillow and closing his eyes. Sal didn’t respond, just hummed in acknowledgement. There wasn’t much he could say after all. Neither of them knew where they stood and they wouldn’t until you woke up. Did this mean something? Or was it simply just fun with friends? They would ask you in the morning, but for now, they let you sleep peacefully between them.

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takaraphoenix · 7 months ago

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I wanna know if Donny/Derek would have biological kids if they got together... or Donny/Trend bc in the Drunken Dare Cornelia Salene is biologically Sam/Donny... how will that work?

Also I wanna know if Sander didnt get together with Donny and dated someone else at the time, who will Donny get together with in Chasing Fireflies? Maybe Sam? Or someone else hmm why do I feel like it would be interesting to see Victor or Jonas or even Chuck trying to get a shot at Donny before chasing fireflies began if Sander didnt get his shit together (I love Sander but hmm which side OCs would Donny get outside of Trenderam and Sander if they are all occupied).

If Thea is a guy (Theodore) maybe I think Donny would be into him im sure.

Yeah I like the idea where Victor or Jonas or even Chuck or Erik tried to have a shot with Donny it would be interesting thought

Weeell, in Drunken Dare, I took some liberties with their canon kids since I didn't want to create new-ships-exclusive kids that I then would accidentally grow attached too, so I took Cornelia Salene, since she is the only clear legacy of Ares and takes fully after Sam, and changed her other parent; all other Trenderam kids are either Athena, Demeter or in Colly's case Ares and Athena.

I do think that I would have switched around other kids too, like, Mikki is a legacy of Athena so he could have been a Trend/Donny kid instead.

Mh, two options for who Donny would have ended up with, if not Sander.

The original plan - when I made my first draft of Nicercy next gen characters - was for Donny to be dating Luke Chase, since I have a thing for making my next gens of characters who are canon endgame date. So that is a potential option.

And yes, Sam. Sam turned so much more into a character than originally planned, and I adore his dynamic with Donny a lot, I'm fairly sure it would have been Sam/Donny if Sander had been otherwise taken.

Mmmh, if you're asking side characters beyond those five... I do think that Loki Murdock and Donny would have been an interesting match.

#Fic: Drunken Dare #OC: Sam Raser #OC: Trend Austin #OC: Derek Rhys #OC: Donny di Angelo #OC: Sander Rodriguez #OC: Loki Murdock #Fic: Chasingverse #PJOverse

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mariahcarreyyy · 1 year ago

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Can you write a lando norris x fem reader fic where they do anal (fem receiving) cause he won a race or championship or something please

+ my first smut ever go easy on me pls 🙈🙈

𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗡𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗭𝗘, 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗶𝘀

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

plot: after Lando wins his first grand prix race, you let him explore a new area in your sex life-- taking it from the backdoor.

wc: 2.8k { shes a long one ;) }

warning(s): smut 18+, anal fingering (fem rec.), anal sex (fem rec.), celebratory sex, the overuse of the words 'fuck' and 'baby', swearing, and mild mention of champagne.

The post-race flush on your boyfriend's face that Sunday afternoon was nothing new: his cheeks twinged were crimson and a broad smile was etched onto his face, clashing dangerously with his papaya race suit.

What was new, however, was that Lando's feet were placed neither on the third step of the podium nor the second. He stood victoriously on the top step, raising his large silver trophy above his head and beaming at the ecstatic crowd.

The Silverstone winners' green eyes meet yours in his struggle of drowning in champagne, mouthing, 'I love you.'

'I love you more,' you mouth back, no longer resisting the urge to let your proud tears escape your waterline.

Hours later, the thrill of Lando winning his first race was as strong as ever. It twirled recklessly around you and Lando's sweaty bodies and booming music. The high-end club was overflowing with Formula One drivers and media personnel. All celebrating your boyfriend's first win, no doubt.

You and Lando had been separated at some point during the night, lost in the purple and blue LED lights of the club, and you found yourself dancing with whoever had been willing to. Witnessing his girlfriend sway against the bodies of a stranger hadn't bothered him, because the two of you were aware that no one could touch you like he could—make you feel as good as he could.

Fuck, his blue jeans grew tighter against his crotch, eyes stubbornly planted on the curve of your hips and watching as they moved seductively to the beat of the music.

The hair on the nape of your neck rose, somehow aware that someone was watching you. You detach yourself from the stranger—a fairly attractive blond in his late twenties—and turn around only to be met with your boyfriend's eyes for the second time that day.

When he turns back around to face the bartender, you advance towards his seat and wrap your arms around his waist from behind.

"Hi, baby," he smiles as you rub your forehead against the crook of his neck.

Like a cat, he thinks.

"Hey," you murmur, muffled by the cotton of his black shirt. Breathing in, you think you have become drunk on the deep musk of his cologne. "Y'smell so good."

Lando tips his head back with a boastful laugh, but it falters when he feels your soft lips slowly trailing up his neck, smirking, "Yeah? You wanna take this someplace else?"

You crane your neck up, biting your bottom lip as you nod shyly. Lando doesn't need any further confirmation; he stands up, and your hands consequently fall from his tan stomach. A whine nearly escapes you at the loss of physical touch, but he's quick to interlace your hand in his.

Sometimes, you believe he can read your mind.

"Don't let go," he demands, pushing past the swarm of drunken crowds (and also leading you to rub your thighs together in hopes of relieving yourself, but you chose not to acknowledge it).

In a matter of thirty minutes, you were able to escape the suffocating atmosphere and catch a cab back to your hotel. The moment the door of the hotel room shut behind you, Lando placed both of his veiny hands on your waist, pressing your bodies together and attacking your lips.

Your body was on fire, and the pit in your stomach screamed for relief. Lando couldn't fucking stop kissing you. And even if he could, he wouldn't dare be the first to pull away.

Lando Norris was not one for alcohol, but he would get drunk off the peachy scent of your conditioner if he could.

The driver's hand stilled on your cheek to tip your head back and deepen the kiss, while the other tugged on the hem of your little black dress. You let out a pathetic whimper against his lips, and Lando takes it as permission to slip his tongue inside.

Hesitantly, you pull away, albeit not very far. You could count Lando's faint freckles, and your nose brushes against his occasionally. You meet his eyes and fight the urge to look down at your feet because he's looking at you like you hung the fucking stars in the sky. A grin breaks out on his face, and he resumes his feathery touches on your dress. "C'mon, baby, take this off f'me."

You blink dumbly at him. Lando doubles over, emitting that laugh that you love so much. That hyena-like, gigglish shriek. When it dawns on you that you might be staring a little too hard, you immediately reach for your dress, lifting it above your hips and shrugging it off your shoulder.

Lando curses softly under his breath and urgently lays his palms back on your hips. He presses your lips together again, softer and gentler, and your heart aches. Warmth consumes you as you lean into the kiss, Lando's lips impossibly soft against your own.

Lando gently taps his index finger on the crease separating your ass and thighs. You know, just from his touch, what he needs, and of course you do; there have been too many nights of you waking up together, tangled in white bedsheets, for you not to.

You jump, your lips still connected, and your head dizzy from his touch. His palms wrap beneath your legs, carrying you to bed like you weighed about as much as a feather.

And like, Lando manhandling you shouldn't make you want to ride him till he cries, but it does. It only made the need in between your thighs stronger.

Soon enough, you're splayed out on his sheets with Lando's pillowy lips sucking all over your neck, painting it with soft hues of lilac.

The fabric covering your boyfriend's body makes you jut your bottom lip out, whining, "Take it off, Lan, please."

Lando pulls away with half-lidded eyes, resting on his calves as he fumbles to free himself from the constraints of his clothes. And well, you definitely didn't lift your hips against his clothed dick at the sight of his defined abs.

Lando breathes sharply and spreads your legs to rub your pussy through your panties. You whine, trying and failing to grind up against his palm because his other hand is firm against your lower stomach.

"Mm, so good f'me, so wet." Lando moans lightly, pushing your lace to the side, and—oh fuck, he's rubbing your clit.

You thrash against his touch, gasping as you heave out, "Lan, no, please, no."

The drivers' previous lust-filled eyes are tainted with worry now. "What's wrong, baby? I do somethin'?"

You almost chuckle fondly at how fast he retracts his arm from in between your thighs (and also cry). You shake your head, lifting your hand—which had been previously gripping at the sheets—to cradle his defined cheekbones.

"No, no, baby, 'tis not that," you gulp, and his wory morphs into confusion, urging you to continue. "I just, I dunno, I know how much you wanted to fuck me from the back, so I, uh, thought we could do it tonight."

Shit.

Lando doesn't know what he expected to hear, but it was sure as fuck not that. To his own surprise, Lando somehow grows harder in the confines of his boxer. A grin adorns his face, despite the pain between his legs. "Fuck, you sure, baby? I know I jus' won a race, but that doesn't mean we have to, princess."

"I know," you reassure him, trailing your hand down to his boxers and palming at his erection. "I want to; y'looked so fucking hot on that top step."

"Yeah?" He sucks in a sharp breath, and you hum sweetly, squeezing his dick harder.

Lando's hips stutter against your touch, grinding down in an attempt to relieve his ache. Mustering up his last shred of dignity, Lando somehow manages to pull away, making you whine for what felt like the 1000th time tonight.

He chuckles, stepping off the bed to tug his boxers down and reach for the strawberry-scented lube on his nightstand that, as you both learned, all high-end hotels supplied. Lando eagerly sits in the space of your spread legs, leaning forward to place wet kisses along your collarbone till he reaches your tits.

You moan softly when he wraps his hot mouth around your nipple, and Lando goes fucking ballistic. The sound echoes in his head like a broken radio. Lando wants to take it out and store it in a guarded safe somewhere in India.

The driver alternates between each boob, flicking his tongue against one and rolling the nub of the other with his fingers. Your hand quickly finds solace in his curls, arching your back to bring him closer. When he pulls away with a kiss to your sensitive nub, you find it hard not to be hyper-aware of the thick cock resting against your thigh.

You roll your hips impatiently, and satisfaction engulfs your body when Lando reaches for the discarded lube on the bed. With a pop, he pulls the lid and squeezes a generous amount on his palm. He rubs his hands together, the friction warming the lube well.

You would be a liar if you said a swarm of erratic butterflies hadn't swarmed your stomach. Lando would make this enjoyable; you knew that, but he couldn't completely take the pain away. Taking a deep breath in, you reach for Lando's clean hand.

He intertwines them beside your hip without asking a question.

He pokes a wet finger against your rim, asking, "You ready, love?"

"Yup," popping the 'p', satisfied with yourself at how well you were hiding your nerves.

Lando pushes in, and he barely has half of his index finger inside you, but holy fuck, the sight drives him crazy. The hold on his hand tightens, and he forces his eyes away from his finger wrapped around your asshole to look at you.

"H-how're you feeling, love?" Lando stutters at the feeling of your asshole clenching around his digit. "Relax, baby, you've gotta relax f'me, please."

Tears well up on your waterline, blurring your vision of Lando kneeling in front of you. It took a few seconds, but the pain eventually subsided, and Lando took that as a sign to push deeper.

Lando tries his absolute hardest not to moan loudly, instead focusing on the heat of your ass wrapped around his index. He removes it, leaving no time for you to question him before he shoves a second finger inside.

"Oh!" You arch your back, eyebrows furrowing, when the pleasure starts bubbling in your stomach. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Shit," Lando says, because your writhing against his fingers, begging for more, more, more, has reduced him to a man of few words. "Doin' so fucking well for me, baby."

The driver continues to fuck his fingers into your ass, twisting and curling every once in a while. Your head tilts back against the mattress, and your mouth hangs in a permanent 'o'.

"You think y'ready for m'cock, darling?"

You don't--cant-- bring yourself to answer. Your mind, you believed, had officially melted into a puddle, spilling out of your ear. Lando curls his fingers, as if nudging you on the shoulder and saying, Hey, I'm talking to you.

You screech, your eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. His gaze, that makes you feel so delicate. His gaze, that makes your head void of any thoughts. His gaze, that you wanted on you forever.

You nod, and he carefully pulls his digits out. Lando grips the base of his cock lazily because he knows he won't be able to last long, and he'd be damned if he was about to spend one less second inside you.

Lando lines his dick up against your stretched-out rim, fingers untangling from yours, and instead rests them on the small of your waist. When Lando pushes the tip inside your hole, the pain that shoots up your spine causes your hands to fly up to your back, clawing at him to distract yourself.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit," Lando repeats like a prayer.

You felt so fucking wet, so tight around his cock. Lando was sure that if he died like this—naked, sweaty, and with his cock shoved deep inside your ass—he'd die happily.

The feeling of Lando's fingers was incomparable to the sensation—and pain—of his length filling you up inch by inch. The room smells of sex, Lando's perfume, and strawberry-scented lube, and once the pain finally subsided, you realized you needed him fully inside you now.

You wrap your legs around his hips, the balls of your feet pressing against his lower back as you beg, "Please, Lan, I need you, need you to fill me up, please."

Lando swears under his breath, hands gripping at your waist so hard that you're sure you'd look in the mirror the next morning to see your hips painted a lilac and indigo blue sunset. He pushed further inside, his eyes glued to your asshole, stretching to accommodate his thickness and sucking him in, moaning loudly when you accidentally clenched around him.

"Fuck, baby, y-you're taking all of me," Lando gasps in disbelief, biting his bottom lip as his eyes roll back.

You haven't said a single thing, reduced to a whimpering mess and tear-stained cheeks. When your fingernails dig deeper into his back, Lando blinks, ripped out of his lust-haze trance.

Lando tries to focus. Really, he does. But shit, you're clenching sinfully around his cock and fluttering around it as if to say, more more more.

"Lando," you whisper just loud enough for him to hear, painting his back with crescent moons from your fingernails (you'd feel bad if it wasn't for his dick splitting you in half). "Fuck me."

Lando groans at that, wasting no time before pulling his hips back and slamming them back inside. You shrieked, and at this point, you were sure that Lando's back was bleeding from your nails' assault.

You look up at Lando through your eyelashes, jutting out your bottom lip. Your boyfriend's hips don't falter when he leans down and kisses you. It was different. It was messy and hot, and you let out a choked sob against his lips.

With wide eyes, Lando pulls away. "Are you okay, baby? 'Doin so fucking well f'me, fuck, good girl."

You moan, the praise making you impossibly more horny, and nod your head frantically, reaching for your clit between your thighs. Lando tuts, removing a hand from your pretty waist to plant your arms against the pillow above you.

"Please, Lan, I need it, need it so bad." You helplessly grind your clit against nothing.

And who the hell was Lando Norris to say no?

With the new-found pleasure of relieving clit, you are 100% sure that if you ever were to die and go to heaven, it would look like this. It would feel like this.

Lando isn't ashamed that he wouldn't last long, not when you feel this fucking good, not when he can hear your high-pitched moans and uneven breaths. With a stutter of his hips and a particularly loud groan, you already knew he was close.

"Fuck! Baby, I-I cant," he doubles over, frantically rubbing tiny circles against your clit and attacking your neck with his lips. "I'm gonna-"

You arch your back as though you're getting a fucking exorcism because, holy shit, the feeling of his hot semen filling you up is way hotter than it should be. Lando pistons his hips in and out of you through his high, and with one last cry, black spots cover your vision.

"Fuck!- oh, fuck, lan, lan, lan," you repeat his name like a prayer because he might as well be god. Your arms thrash in Lando's hold, already yearning for his touch like you always do post-sex.

Lando releases a guttural groan as he pulls his softening dick out, twitching when your asshole involuntarily clenches around him. You're still breathing so fucking loud when he collapses beside you and wraps an arm around your neck to rest your head against his chest.

Lando shifts, tugging the thick blanket around your sweaty, cum-painted bodies before you hear, "Shit! Baby, didn't mean to hold 'em that hard, does it hurt?"

You furrow your brows, following Lando's eyeline; your otherwise plain wrists were adorned with the scarlet imprint of your boyfriend's hand.

Shrugging, you scoot up and bury your forehead on the crook of his neck, mumbling, "Don't care."

Lando places a mental reminder to put some cream on it in the morning, but for now, he's happy to place small kisses on the top of your head, whispering praises and 'thank you's into your ear.

When you rub your head against him shyly at his words, Lando can't help but laugh fondly at you.

Like a cat, he thinks again.

Lemme know how you liked this story or give me some feedback in the comments or my inbox! 💬🧸

Reblogs and likes are always appreciated 💌💌

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choerypetal · 6 months ago

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The Tattoo / Homelander

summary: Both Homelander and you had been searching for your soulmate for years. Then, when you began working at Vought, a mysterious tattoo appeared on your arm, one that matched Homelander's a little too perfectly.

request was from; @chocolate-floof hope you enjoy this short fic!

ps: english isn't my first language so i apologize for any grammar errors xx

Homelander had always been a man of tradition, whether in a romance or friendship settings. He never shied away from both showing the most predictable affections, to pleasing his country. Even when his mind always managed to disassociate from reality, he couldn’t deny the truth that unfolded beneath him, etched into his very flesh: the beginning of knowing your existence.

Meeting Homelander was daunting at first. Luckily, you managed to escape his attention when two Vought employees needed you to prepare Firecracker’s weekly news replacement. Yet, his soft smile and lingering gaze made him realize how magnificent you were to him.

Being a the traditional wife was not what he wanted, even if his values where far from different by the rest of the citizens, there was no surprise he wanted to cherish you differently. In fact, Homelander prided himself on his efficiency that he didn’t need a wife or nanny to subdue his cravings, especially with the opportunity of being with you. He needed someone whom he could be himself, and being the Homelander that he was, naturally his first reasons was for safety measures. And it was from the very first meeting at the Seven, that John’s thoughts were obviously focus in making you as his as fast as possible.

At first, Homelander didn’t think much about pleasing you. During the Vought meetings, he would casually brought you coffee, enough to make Deep and others gasp at this rare act of kindness. He didn’t hesitate to glare threateningly at anyone who dared to comment. You, oblivious to this, made it more delightful for John to watch over you.

The coffee ritual was one thing; sneaking into your office was another. Then came your perfume, the scent that enchanted him whenever you were in the same room. He would lean close while discussing matters with guests or politicians, praising your talent and major contributions to the Seven. His words often brought a light blush to your cheeks, a reaction he cherished.

One night, as you greeted everyone with delicate grace, Homelander saw you as a rare delicacy. His whispered compliment, “You look ravishing tonight,” near your ear, made your hair flinch and confirmed that you too had feelings for him, even if you were too shy to show them. This pleased Homelander immensely.

A few days later, Homelander noticed it as well—the mark on his arm that had appeared since the very first day you arrived. Despite this, he never believed in soulmates or love at first sight, especially for someone like him. Yet, it took enough courage for him to 'accidentally' bump into you one day, knowing you were busier this week. It meant a little more time for him to determine if he was going insane, but his doubts were replaced with confidence.

One day, during a rush, you stumbled into him, covered in sweat and breathless. His arms almost hovered over you as he chuckled, “My, my, Y/N. What’s the rush?” Brushing a few strands of hair from your face, he noticed your oversized blouse slipping down to reveal a tattoo in cursive, saying “Love.” He murmured the word to himself, meeting your gaze as your cheeks turned a bold shade of pink.

“Love…” he murmured again, then scoffed nonchalantly, pushing back his suit’s arm to reveal a matching tattoo that read “You.” “If we bring your arm to mine, I’d say the universe is telling us something.”

Indeed, the universe had brought you together. Though initially, you thought the tattoo was a drunken mistake, you realized its significance when you saw Homelander’s matching mark. He was your soulmate, and you were his. The mark on his wrist was no coincidence, and you both knew it.

Lost in thought, his voice caught you off guard, soft and captivating. As he approached, his shadow hovered over you, his thumb gently caressing your bottom lip as he lifted your chin to meet his gaze. His piercing, loving gaze conveyed everything without words. You nodded slightly, making him chuckle. “You are mine,” he said, his voice hoarser than before. Leaning in, he closed the gap between you, his lips brushing yours before he asked, “May I?” You nodded again, and his lips curved into a smile as he kissed you deeply. His hands cupped your face, and he growled softly, “So delectable,” before leaning in once more, barely leaving any space for air.

From that day on, the two of you became inseparable.

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander x y/n #homelander the boys #homelander imagine #homelander smut #the boyz x reader #the boyz x you #the boyz smut #the boyz scenarios #the boyz x y/n #the boys #homelander x oc #homelander fanfiction #the boys s4 #the boys x y/n #the boys x reader

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luvether · 5 days ago

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MUCH LOVE, YOUR GUARDIANS ! In which they go from bodyguards to companions who you would crawl back home to, as they go through the thick of thins of what it’s like to love you intentionally and ardently.

jiaoqiu and moze x gn!reader (ft. feixiao) fluff and heavy (?) angst content. petty jealousy and overprotectiveness. mentions of self-deprecation, self-sabotage, low self-morale. heavy yearning. hurt with comfort. heavy found-family dynamic, platonic and romantic implications. politics. might be ooc. massive spoilers for the events on version 2.5. [12.6k wc]

sequel to a guardian or two ノ trying to dabble back into angst. tagging @bladism <33 love you and sorry for the atrociously long fic!! hoping to revive the jq and moze tags for this one (art by zassyoku_DD on twt.)

IN THE YAOQING, WHEN YOU THINK OF HAVING LUNCH you think of a small table crammed with four people, the strong scent of spices pricking your nose—making it all runny, the ruddy-cheeked Feixiao slurring between liquor lips, her vice arm wrapping unapologetically around the reluctant and defeated healer and your secret alliance with the shadow guard as he sneakily takes the button mushrooms in your bowl when Jiaoqiu is not looking, too busy being the General’s victim to her drunken affairs.

You and Moze exchange knowing glances, it was a deal that was recently established since he had lost a bet and dreaded reciting poems in the next festival.

Moze grumbles about a poem recital in front of strangers? You came to his aid.

You disliked the mushrooms Jiaoqiu gives you every lunch? He comes to your aid.

“You should come to the Luofu with us during the Wardance Ceremony.” A drink-addled comment gets thrown into the mix of everyday lunch atmosphere. You had almost missed it completely, had it not been for Moze who nudged you and you realized it wasn’t the delusional voices in your head speaking your wanton.

“Going to the Luofu for the Wardance Ceremony?” You echo Feixiao’s statement with perked up enthusiasm, food caking the insides of your cheeks, trying to push the words between your chewing.

“Finish chewing before you start talking.” There’s a mischievous smile on Jiaoqiu’s lips, tail flicking left and right in glee. He always finds every reason to tease you, this moment was no different. You shoot him a fond glare, pausing to finish a piece of rich meat in your mouth, licking the flavor between your teeth.

“Are you certain you want me to follow you to the Luofu?” You ask again, just in case it was Feixiao's drunk thought overtaking her senses.

But she straightens at the content of your tone, sobering. The expression on her face expresses her clear agreement.

“Why not?” She rests her cup on the table, her fingertips teetering towards the pitcher to pour more. “You have not visited the other Xianzhou ships before, it will be a good change of pace for you.”

A bright smile graces your lips, then it collapses. “I appreciate the invitation, but I cannot ignore the mountains of paperwork on my desk. I barely have time for leisure, much less go on a vacation somewhere.”

“Have you forgotten?” You turn your attention to Moze who speaks casually from your side, arms crossing over his chest. "You are looking at the Yaoqing’s lacking General, lacking in worries, regrets and…”

“Lacking in rivals.” You finish his sentence with a chuckle.

Moze’s lips tip upward, almost a smile.

“No one would dare say anything if a certain scribe vanishes from work and accompanies the General to the Luofu.”

Jiaoqiu adds. “Besides, we want you to come with us.” There’s a fond smile on his face.

“That’s three rebuttals against one.”

The atmosphere lifts at Jiaoqiu’s nostalgic tease, it all reminds you of the first time Jiaoqiu and Moze became your bodyguards, how time flies.

You chuckle then, “alright.”

“Now that it is settled,” Feixiao cheers. “Let us rejoice with—”

Jiaoqiu grabs the pitcher before your sister does, a sharp look of warning on his smiling face. “General Feixiao, please refrain from drinking anymore. And Moze,” He turns his head, you both stiffen. “Stop being an accomplice and let them eat their mushrooms.”

Moze tsked and a laugh bubbles in your chest, nothing can escape Jiaoqiu’s eyes now can it?

Despite the constant bantering that quickly fit into your routine with the three of them—you were extremely grateful for their existence in your otherwise very lonesome life. Aside from the excitement of the trip, you had been ruminating about their departure since you accidentally overheard them talking about it when you were slumbering.

The next couple of days, your enthusiasm never ceases until it’s the day to depart for Xianzhou Luofu.

The ship is already waiting by Yaoqing’s docks when you arrive, as your feet guide you there you double check your items before boarding: extra clothes, personal bathing essentials, wallet, notebook files, some medicines…yup. Everything you need for the trip has been accounted for, and even if you had forgotten something, you are certain the Luofu will provide you with it. You had heard a thing or two about Luofu’s dozing General from Feixiao herself, their generosity to foreigners have even touched the strings of your heart.

You are enthused about your first journey, being able to meet other people and seeing other sights outside of the usual IPC-styled architecture the Yaoqing has to offer.

You hear someone call out your name from a distance, you lift your head and see Jiaoqiu waving at you, already nestled on the ship’s seat cushions. He softly pats the space beside him,

“Come sit beside me.”

A Verdant knight allows you entry and you approach the smiling healer, doing as he had asked of you after loading your bag on the overhead bin. You allow your body to sink within the cushions with a contented sigh slipping between your teeth. Your arm touches Jiaoqiu’s and you cannot help but lean in and flop your head on his shoulder, soft strawberry cowlicks tickle your cheek and he reaches out to brush wild strands from your forehead.

“Didn’t get enough sleep?”

“I just had to finish files for a couple of IPC shipments that will be arriving in Verdant harbor.” This earns a light-hearted chuckle from the pink. You feel his weight on your head, his cheek pressed onto your crown.

“I thought you got an assistant?”

“I did.” You answer. “I need to make sure things are accounted for and queued in the proper order before I hand the management over to her.”

“Well, aren’t you a kind boss.”

“When was I not?”

Jiaoqiu grabs his red fan, small puffs of wind settle softly on your face due to his fanning. “I didn't say you were anything but.” Then a brief silence, his tone containing fondness.

“You are slowly trusting others again,”

You lift your head, unaware of how your face is close to his. From here, his butterscotch eyes are a gentle pool of honey and orange.

His lips tip up. “I’m proud of you.”

Your heart soars. Jiaoqiu winds his arm around you, tail flicking and his fan continues to draw air. “If you want to sleep, sleep.”

Your weight is leaning heavily on his, he doesn’t seem to mind it, his fingers coming to rub soothingly, almost lulling you, constellations of sleep blinking beneath your eyelids.

“But I wanted to wait and see the stars outside.”

“I’ll wake you up when we get there.”

“Promise?” You yawn, this makes Jiaoqiu cradle you closer into his inviting warmth.

“Promise.” He says. “Now get some sleep. This will be a long trip.”

It has already been a couple of days since your arrival to the Xianzhou Luofu. Feixiao had left immediately to go sightseeing, leaving you, Jiaoqiu and Moze to announce your arrival to the Arbiter Generals at the Seat of Divine Foresight.

Meeting General Jingyuan was such an enlightening experience, his deep baritone faint in your ears, his gentle mannerisms and just as enthusiastic tone when talking about grueling papers constantly on office desks or wanting to travel more, it allowed for smooth conversations between the two of you, having so many things in common.

You had liked conversing with the General,

A certain two did not.

But your two ‘bodyguards’ knew better than to let their moods sully on such a simple thing.

It wasn’t strange for General Jingyuan to show a warm and respectful disposition towards you—he has, after all, heard of your astounding achievements in the Yaoqing, despite the nasty comments thrown at you, you prevailed, and Jingyuan admired that aspect of you, especially with your label as the Merlin’s Claw kin and the lack of swordsmanship practice.

Moze and Jiaoqiu understand that, because they hold the same amount of admiration towards you and your efforts.

But what they considered ludicrous was when you three had bumped into a Knight of beauty whilst trying to find for a certain General with white ears—you haven’t seen Feixiao in a long while and during your ventures of trying to find her, Argenti greeted you and you both clicked.

It was merely a curious exchange at first, trading words of greetings, introductions with a mix of interest for the other. Moze lags behind the group, preferring to keep to himself during this conversation which was understandable, he’s a man with few words much less sharing friendly words with Argenti—who was the complete opposite of Moze—radiant under public lights, forthright in his syrupy cadence, his eyes sparkle just as bright like ruby rose petals and succor violin strings.

Jiaoqiu could do nothing but smile politely at the interaction, happy that you are conversing more with others outside of your little circle.

But then Argenti picks up your hand, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

The friendly gesture made Jiaoqiu crack like stone and Moze stiffen.

The whole atmosphere takes a polar turn of frigid that feels harsh on your skin.

You’ve noticed it only briefly. Now, Jiaoqiu’s smile is no longer polite—but it’s still there, it just seems more…malicious and cynical than friendly. Or how Moze’s neutral stare sharpens as it follows the crimson hair of Argenti as he bids you all farewell.

When the knight turns the corner, Jiaoqiu places both his hands flat on your shoulders, a conflicting look in his amber eyes.

“I implore you to reconsider your choices.”

Your brows crease in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Jiaoqiu’s right. He’s bad news.” Moze inquired from your other side, adding spices to the already boiling pot. You can only flicker your gaze back and forth between the two, unsure why they are saying this all of a sudden.

“But Mr. Argenti seems sweet to me.”

You merely stated the obvious, Jiaoqiu jostles you softly like you’ve gone insane.

“The reputation of the Knights of beauty are fastidious. They don’t have time for such affairs since they travel all over the galaxy to pay patronage and share the gospel of their God all across the cosmos, so don’t even think about it.”

Think about it? Affairs? “Have you both eaten something funny today?” You ask instead, shaking away from Jiaoqiu’s firm grip.

Maybe they just ate something weird, their behavior will lessen in a couple days time, that is your initial conclusion on this matter. However their petulance only seems to metamorphosis the more days spent in the Luofu.

A day or two passes, and your run-ins with Argenti are few and far in between.

Two times, you’ve only bumped into each other two times after your first encounter. The Xianzhou Luofu is surprisingly a small place and with the current festival ongoing, it’s easy to bump into a familiar face among the streets.

But everytime Argenti perks up at the sight of you, calling you his ‘dear Yaoqing friend’ the air surrounding Jiaoqiu and Moze seems to freeze over, and you were semi-glad Argenti doesn’t take notice or offense to such looks pinned on him.

He’s quite the character.

You sigh again for the millionth time today when you parted ways with the red-head. You turned around, “Jiaoqiu.”

“Yes?”

“If you won’t stop glaring at him, the passersby will assume he jumped you in an alley and robbed you of your riches.”

“You’re just seeing things.”

“No, I’m quite sure of myself. What’s with the face, Jiaoqiu. Did he do something to you that I am not aware of?”

Jiaoqiu’s manners exude reluctance, his mouth open then close, as if unsure of what to answer you. “...Not in particular.”

You tilt your head. ‘Then w—” Before you can finish your sentence, the fox rips a part of his pastry and gently pushes it between your lips to hush you.

“Try this for me.” He says instead. “Is it to your taste?”

You lick the flavor from your teeth, nodding your head. At your response, Jiaoqiu pushes the remaining pastry on your hand and pats your head.

“Take it, I'm not really into sweet things.”

“Okay…”

As you watch him, you’ve taken note of how either of the two behave, which was a new experience on your part, you have not seen this side of them before. Like Jiaoqiu’s tendency to hide his nasty displeasures beneath his red fan, occasional amber eyes scrutinizing and ears twitching.

Or Moze that seems to have the tendency to either vanish into thin air mid conversation when something displeases him, tug his hood down and refrain from any eye contact or he would glare down at you with those magenta eyes of his, just like right now.

“Where are you going?”

You startle as the tall, brooding man materializes in front of you. You pause, looking around for any imminent danger for him to act like this.

“I was just gonna check out the stalls I haven’t stopped by in Aurum Alley.”

He blinks. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” You defend yourself quickly, too quick. “I wanted to buy something but haven’t found the right place to custom make it, this is my second time trying to look around.”

Moze ponders upon your excuse, he melts immediately after thinking it through. “Okay.” He uncrosses his arms, shaving his stubbornness away. “I’ll accompany you,”

“Wait a second.” Your brows furrowed in confusion. “You…you cannot come with me, and aren’t you supposed to be in an important meeting in the seat of Divine Foresight with Jiaoqiu and the Madam General?”

He responds by shaking his head. “It’ll be alright, Jiaoqiu’s enough to handle it and I’m not fond of the limelight either way. It’s also protocol to—“

You try to sidestep him, he moves to block you again.

You scowl at him. He ignores you.

“It’s protocol to keep watch over you here more so than normal since this isn’t the Yaoqing, there might be others here that are out to get you.”

“It’s a festival, Moze.” You narrow your eyes.

He nods his head. “A great distraction for people to come and take advantage of the situation. So try—“

“To enjoy the celebration—“

“To stay alert since it is a celebration.”

You cannot help but sigh. “Let loose a little, will you?” You start. “If it makes you feel better, I’m heading there with a companion. They’ll be able to look after me while you are busy, better?”

Moze’s frown seems to deepen, not necessarily easing his worry like you’d hope. “Who is it?”

“Mr. Argen—”

“Absolutely not—“

Before Moze could finish his demand, you take his hand in yours. The complaints on his tongue die and his heated stare is on you. The folds of his worried expression only creases further, you had to squeeze his gloved hand.

“I have always been grateful for your companionship, so never think otherwise that I’m trying to cast you aside.”

“So why can’t I…” Moze bites his tongue when you shake your head again.

“Well if I mention anything then it wouldn’t necessarily be a surprise now will it?”

When his response is nothing but silence you finally drop his hand, trying to swerve around him yet again to leave. “Thank you for your generous services, Mr. Shadow Guard. Then, I’ll see you—“

A firm grip on your hand stops you dead on your tracks. You turn your head to look at Moze, there was a complicated expression on his face, his brow pinched more than usual, frown deeper and velvet pupils simmering.

“…Moze?”

He snaps out of it in an instant, “I do trust you, It's just I’m—” He blinks, reconsiders his words, then releases your hand. “Nevermind. Have fun, come find us if anything happens.”

You watch your companion turn to leave, his familiar purple hood disappearing around the corner. You cannot help but sigh, now you feel guilty for pushing him away like this.

“There you are.” Argenti greets you from behind as he taps your shoulder.

“Hey, Argenti.”

He takes notice of the look in your face, tilting his head. “What’s with the morose expression, my dear friend?”

“Oh.” You turn away. “Sorry, I just brushed away a friend just now and I feel terrible about it.”

Argenti hums, patting your head gently. “I see. Well, if it eases your worry, I am here to announce that I have found a stall that can help you make your requests. However, they are not in Aurum Alley.”

You perk up. “That’s great news.” You smile. “Thank you, can you show me where they are?”

“Of course,” Argenti smiles at you, “The craftsman I stumbled upon usually hangs around Exalting Sanctum, come with me.”

Before you take a step, you dare to look over your shoulders at the place where you saw Moze disappear, then turn to follow Argenti down the road.

When Moze returns back to Jiaoqiu and Feixiao with a sour expression on his face—they didn’t need to piece together the cause of such sullenness for the assassin. A laugh cannot help but slip from the lips of their General as she quips,

“You know, if the both of you are jealous due to lack of attention just say so. I can’t have two of my retainers looking especially like kicked pups in front of the Luofu’s and Zhuming’s generals.”

Jiaoqiu cannot help but grumble. “Don’t tease us like that, General.”

It was a brief feeling, and the first that you’ve felt in years: the fear in your skin, grief in your chest and the pain woven in your brain. Smoke dresses your veins and you choke on the exhaustion, knees hitting the bloodied grass beneath you.

Your heart is pounding in your ears and instead of the familiar Luofu inn—you remembered being back in that particular field of massacre, bodies of your people falling like weeds as Borisins cut them down, one by one, their screams of pain piercing through you.

More specifically, the bloody screams of your parents as they pushed you to continue running. Don’t look back, their words echo. Keep running my dear, don’t turn around— when their screeches are accompanied by painful gasps and squelches of bodies being torn apart like lacy ribbons, You dare to turn around.

“Mother! Father!” You scream so hard it makes you dizzy. Fat tears spill down your cheeks, a pitiful sob wrenching from your throat. “Please don’t leave me, I don’t have anybody else. What am I supposed to do, I don’t want to be alone, I’m begging you—!“

Your eyes snap open.

You awake from that nightmare with a billowing gasp.

The night is tame and your room is quiet, but your heart is a drum in your chest. When you sit up, the remnants of tears are all that remains of the tragedy of your youth.

Mom, dad. You cannot help but let out a shaky exhale, curling into yourself to stop the tremor that chills through your whole body. It’s okay, you’re no longer in that field.

Restlessness sinks into your bones after that, so instead of laying awake in your bed you were leaning against the open window. Luofu’s night air appears colder than what you were used to. You tap your finger against the surface of the wood beneath you.

You hear a brief noise faint in the ears.

You close your eyes.

“I know it’s you, Moze.”

There was silence, then a low hum that belonged to one person. “You’re awake still.” The tides of umbra shadows linger, materializing his familiar tall build leaning against the wall just outside your open window.

You shoot him a smile. “I am unable to sleep tonight.”

It takes a while for him to respond. He turns around, approaching you and ducking his head to enter through. “Are you alright?” He asks when his feet hit your wooden floors.

“Just, thinking a lot.” You say. “That’s all.”

“Nightmares?” Moze asks.

“Nightmares.” You confirm.

You can feel the man frown before you can see it. Though by then, you decided to lift the lighthearted mood with a question, “How about you, why are you still here?”

Moze decides to play along with your whims, “I decided to attack the General tonight, but as always, she managed to dodge it all.”

Ah, that.

You dare not question Moze’s and Feixiao’s weird little bonding the moment you found out about this arrangement. Apparently they’ve been going on like this since Feixiao first saved Moze from the disciples of Sanctus Medicus. To him, Feixiao is both his benefactor and enemy, the relationship they both have concurrently was fixed upon a promise, a declaration and a sense of respect for one another.

You stir from your own thoughts when you feel someone tug the ties of your attire.

“Your hanfu isn’t aligned properly.”

You look up at his steady velvet eyes. Moze’s in front of you now, murmuring his excuse as his fingers flatten upon the fabrics, tugging and hoisting and pulling until it’s finally centered and his irk is satiated.

You watch his fuss beneath your softened gaze, you reminisce on such a simple gesture. “Hey, Moze?”

He diverts his attention, looking into your eyes.

“Thank you, you know, for sticking around.”

You feel his fingers flinch from your statement. The frown on his face shows his puzzlement.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean just that.”

“Are you gonna do something that would cause us to be separated?” You wanted to laugh at how serious his tone had become, hardened and alerted. The levity doesn’t sink into him, for he had pinched your chin, drawing your attention back to him.

“Answer me, please.” He pushes a little, not roughly but not gentle either. The moonlight strokes the crevices of his pinched expression, a sprinkle of salt and pepper of seriousness.

Just when you are about to retort, he adds in with a quickened breath.

“I don’t want us to be separated.” He says ardently. “You are too important to me.”

You are vaguely aware of his other hand still lingering by your waist, the one that was constantly tugging and pulling your hanfu in place. Outside the Luofu’s night air, you feel nothing but warmth, your heart is quickly filled with a flood of wanton and fullness,

And belonging.

You felt like you finally belonged.

The fear that you had felt mere minutes ago completely washes over, reassured by Moze’s blunt responses. You take a step closer to him, winding your arms around his neck and burying your face on his shoulder, the man stills at your unexpected behavior but is quick to recover, purchasing his hands on your lower back, soothing the skin there by rubbing his thumbs.

Reignbow Arbiter. You murmur to yourself. Whatever happens, please protect them. Protect my sister, protect Moze and Jiaoqiu. Do what you must, please, I beg of you. I don’t want to be alone anymore.

And for a split moment, you are weighed down by the reality that your prayers are merely just a gust of wind for something as almighty as the divine that ruled over the cosmos. It happened oh so suddenly that fear almost shatters your entire body into two.

“Hoolay has escaped from the Shackling prison!” A guard’s words echo through you that moment.

“He has taken a Yaoqing messenger with him, his name is…”

Moze inhales, messy in appearance after just coming back from the Shackling prison. The words thick on his tongue and fist clenched.

“…Jiaoqiu was taken by that escaped Borisin Warhead.”

You watch the starskiffs pass by your vision, the wind that gently gossips upon your skin felt so numb. You grip the rail before you, inhaling a breath, Jiaoqiu’s taken. You exhale, resting your head on your arm. He’s taken and no one knows where he is.

“I knew I’d find you here.”

You hear Feixiao approach you, you don’t lift your head to look at her and she settles on the space beside you, diamond blue-eyes accompanying you gazing at the numerous skiffs before you.

When you’ve gotten used to her presence, she turns, “How are you holding up?”

You cannot help but chuckle. “I’m not the one who needs comforting.”

She hums. “I know.” Her eyes are back on the starskiffs. “I am not familiar with offering words of comfort either, but I know you. I’ve known you for a very long time, don’t try to hide your emotions from me.”

You don’t answer her, you don’t for a very long time. So when you do, your voice cracks. “I’m scared. So, so scared—“

“Look at me, please?”

You finally lift your head. When your eyes settle onto Feixiao, she’s a watercolor of vanilla and blue. You didn’t realize you were crying until she started wiping the strays rolling down your cheeks.

You disliked crying, it makes you feel so weak—so open. However, you press Feixiao’s warm palm on your cheek, letting her comfort you because your fear is spiking yet again, memories of your dead parents rising to choke you whole.

“We’ll get him back, that I can promise.” Feixiao’s forehead is against yours.

You can only nod, squeezing her hand. “I know you will. You three are so strong, the strongest people I know.”

She finally releases you, not before pressing a delicate kiss on your temple. “I love you,” she tells you like she’s sealing a promise on your skin. “I’ll be having an audience with General Huaiyan and Jingyuan. Moze and I won’t be back for a while until this situation rolls over.”

You see the uncertainty clouding within Feixiao’s eyes. “Will you be alright being alone for a few hours?”

Your sister has always been so concerned for you, she’s been like this since you were young and you’re grateful that she cares about your well-being.

You shake your head with a smile as a response. “I’m no longer a child, Madam General. I can handle myself, so go do what you need to do.”

You don’t leave your place, raising a hand and waving as Feixiao leaves you to your own thoughts. Your smile falls then, ruminating on the current situation with a heavy heart.

“Jiaoqiu, Feixiao and Moze.” You mutter out to the wind and the virring skarskiffs passing beneath the bridge. “Please be safe.”

As you finally let your prayers fly in the wind, you step down the bridge and decide to focus your mind on other matters—you decide to stroll around Exalting Sanctum to check up on the craftsman that promised you your items.

Under the dim alley of Exalting Sanctum, Jiaoqiu stills with quiet breaths, his sharp eyes hovering between the disguised Warhead and Mok tok.

Even if he’s stringed up by them, he’s certain that General Feixiao had gotten the message of the prison break as well as his capture. His only course of action now is to stall for the Cloud knights, he’s giving time for Moze and General Feixiao to capture Hoolay.

“Since you’re so confident that the Cloud Knights have closed the ports, Jiaoqiu, I’m giving you a chance to go and see for yourself. Go to the ports, come back, and tell me what you saw.”

What is he thinking? Jiaoqiu scrutinizes as he steps into the bustling streets of Exalting Sanctum. His butterscotch eyes lift up to the sky, then around the streets, he’s certain that Warhead isn’t giving him freedom, the piercing gazes of suspicious foxians watching closely on his behavior is enough for him to thread carefully.

If he interacts with anyone aside from checking up on the ferryman, he fears there will be consequences. Jiaoqiu’s steps are paced, weighty and enduring. His mind is a blur of colors, but he manages to reach the port, his voice hushed as he talked with the so-called ferryman who’s responsible for the Warhead’s escape.

Jiaoqiu had thought the Xianzhou had closed the ports, but it still remains open. What's going on?

He inhales, he can feel someone watching him. The prodding looks make the hairs on his tail stand up. He exhales, climbing up a flight of stairs and turning the corner—

“Ah, there you are, young one. I was wondering where you were, and where’s your red-headed companion?”

“It’s just me today.” A familiar voice, “May I ask for the progress of what I ordered?”

Jiaoqiu’s breath is paper thin and his bones stiffen, what are you doing here?

He doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s you, his amber eyes zone in on you in an instant. At first, he felt relieved. You seem to be faring well even after the events that had happened in a span of a few hours—and then after relief, he felt dread.

Jiaoqiu can still feel eyes following his every move, he cannot go to you. But what if you saw him? What if you approached him and demanded to take him?

What would the Borisins do to you?

Jiaoqiu should’ve left when he had the chance instead of just standing there—because after your conversation with a craftsman, you had turned on your heel and your eyes had stopped on him.

No, Jiaoqiu mutters to himself.

He sees the arraying emotions washing over your face, the look of shock, relief, then yearning.

“Jiaoqiu is that…you?” Your tone is laced with a certain type of sob that rips his heart into two. His fingers twitch on his side, the desperation to embrace you is almost palpable—your actions will have consequences.

He stops himself shortly.

Jiaoqiu turns his head, and leaning at the far corner is a stranger, a foxian, his shadowed expression sharp on him, scrutinizing and calculating.

“Jiaoqiu!” He’s snapped back to reality when he hears you approaching him, hurried paces against the stony ground. He cannot be seen speaking with you.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Your voice is strained and vulnerable, eyes glassy. “Where have you been, how did you—“

When you reach over to touch him, Jiaoqiu turns and slaps your hand away, harshly.

The two of you pause for a full minute, shocked at the action.

Jiaoqiu? Your eyes dissect him slowly, his butterscotch eyes are sharp, narrowed, expression complicated and folded with a million emotions. What’s happening?

“Is something wrong?” You ask him slowly. For a very long moment you only stared at each other. Jiaoqiu looks like he wants to reach out to you, to apologize for slapping your hand away—for his fingers ache to touch you.

But at the same time he looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. He keeps shifting on his heel, like he’s ready to walk away from you. But why?

Is someone watching him?

You turn your gaze, looking around the crowd but Jiaoqiu’s voice stops you,

“Stop it.” he hisses at you, “Go, get out of here.”

”..Okay.” You can do nothing but exhale. “Okay uhm, then I’ll get someone here, perhaps a Cloud Knight—“

“No!” Jiaoqiu yells at you and you flinch.

“Don’t—just don’t do anything. Forget you saw me and go back, please.”

Forget you saw him, he says. This is the first time you’ve seen Jiaoqiu this agitated, not even your first argument was he this icy, so harsh on you—you’re trying to understand why he’s acting like this but you cannot come to a conclusion.

You want to abide by what he says, you really do, but Jiaoqiu’s right here. If you left now, what would those borisins do to him—would they kill him like how they killed your parents?

The very thought of it sends a chill through your spine, your heart seizing in fear. So when Jiaoqiu turns around hastily, dread crawls up your body just watching his back as he walks away from you.

You know Jiaoqiu’s trying to protect you. You know it, but at the same time you cannot let him go.

You close the distance, enough to grasp the straws of his sleeve fabric—but the response is almost instantaneous, Jiaoqiu circles your wrist and tugs you to a dim alleyway impatiently. He’s aware of the heated gazes of the borisins but he tries to get away enough to push you up against the wall, to take all your attention.

Jiaoqiu’s aware of your wide, tear-stained eyes and shaking body. “I’m sorry, Jiaoqiu. I just can’t, let me expl—“ your words stumble between your lips like a drunk as you try to explain yourself but he simply flattens his palms on your mouth, and his voice is low, hurt and in pain.

From here, his butterscotch eyes that were once a gentle pool of honey and orange are now hardened like a resin, angry.

“When I tell you to run, run, little scribe.” Jiaoqiu forces his voice to leave his throat, a shaky exhale of statements. “I promised you, I promised General Feixiao that I would protect you, I would do anything for that. Your life is worth more than mine.“

You shake your head fervently, struggling from his hold but Jiaoqiu holds you closer, head falling unceremoniously on your shoulder, his soft ears tickling your cheek.

“They’re listening.” Jiaoqiu murmurs, shifting his hands to hold the frame of your face closely. “I need to go back to them.”

“They’re gonna hurt you at this rate.” You hiss. “Just come with me, Jiaoqiu, and then—“

“Then they’re gonna hurt the people here!” Jiaoqiu’s ear twitches as he bites back. “We are not to draw any form of attention to ourselves, don’t be selfish—“

“So what if I am?!” You grasp his hand, pressing your cheek against the heat of his own palm. “I don’t care if you call me selfish, I—“

Your words stumble, he can feel fresh tears on his skin.

“You’re breaking my heart, Jiaoqiu.” you sobbed. “I just want you to be safe with me, with sister and Moze.”

Jiaoqiu closes his eyes.

He is reminded of that crammed table that could slot four people. He remembers the spicy scent of food, the banters, the laughs.

Jiaoqiu engulfs you in a tight hug, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” he pauses. “I know where you’re coming from, you told me your story before, haven’t you?”

His lips brush the side of your temple, as if sealing a promise.

“I love you.” He tells you, and agony is in your heart. “I’m sorry, so so sorry, but I can’t leave with you, not when I know people will die if I escape and especially not when I know Hoolay will be the key to cure the general’s illness. Go find Moze as fast as you can, I'll try to stall those wolves for you.”

“Jiao—“ but he’s pulling away and disappearing from your view, taking the warmth with him. You could hardly stand on your own two feet, barely registering what had just happened.

You foolish fox…you push yourself off the ground, stumbling out of the alleyway with your eyes sweeping across the area.

But he’s gone, just like that.

You bend down, your balled fist slamming hard against the wall in frustration.

Jiaoqiu, an image of him enters your head, the patterns of torment in his eyes. You turn around and sprint for it. Please, stay alive.

But the world is not in your favor.

As soon as you distance yourself from Jiaoqiu, it isn't long before you feel eyes following you. You have been ever since you left the alleyway. Your heart hurts, and you aggressively wipe your tears on your sleeve.

For that Warhead to force your companion to do all of those things, you feel anger simmering beneath your arteries. How dare he—how dare he force Jiaoqiu to say all of those?

You quicken your steps then, someone was after you. Maybe that’s why Jiaoqiu wants to get away from you despite wandering around freely, because he was kept under close watch, he didn’t want them to draw their gaze on you.

Foolish, so foolish. You should’ve taken notice of the bloodthirsty eyes around Exalting Sanctum. Your breathing is heavy, you try to turn a corner—

You bump into someone.

They hold your shoulders steadily.

“Easy there, are you alright?” Gazing down at you was a man in Cloud knight uniform, you physically relaxed at the familiar attire. You step away from his hold, swiping the back of your palm on your cheeks.

“I’m alright, I apologize for bumping into—“

You stop. You feel murderous intent.

You settle your gaze on the Cloud Knight before you, he had foxian ears and a scar running down one of his eyes. Despite his gentle and raspy tone, his expression is cynical, but most of all,

His scent was so achingly familiar to the scent of the people that massacred your parents.

This is not a Cloud Knight.

“Is something wrong?” The man asks you.

You shake your head with a polite smile on your lips, your fingers nitpick at the wild thread from your pants, brushing the hidden knife tucked into it. “No, it’s alright. I just argued with someone unnecessary. I’m sorry for being such a sight—“

You merely wish to aim for his neck, to immobilize him so you can stumble out of the quiet corridor you were on and to mesh with the crowd. Just as your fingers reach for the weapon and to swipe—you hear bone crunching, your knife falling to the ground and your scream is choked by his hand, clamping down and gripping your jaw and cheeks, his claws dig deep and they feel sharper against the pillow of your skin.

“Pathetic human.” the foxian clicks his tongue. “So much vigor for such a weak attack.”

Hot blood trickles down from the open wound on your wrist, it hits the pebbles ground like rubies.

“If you want to chastise me for my measly attempt, at least say such a thing out of your disguise.” You breathed heavily, gaze sharp and angry. “You have no right to say that to me when you’re the one hiding like a whelp, you damn wolf.”

“A sharp-tongue, just like that pink fox.” Mok tok says it so disdainfully, his claws cut your skin, he leans in close to you, inhaling. “You smell of him too, as well as two other scents on you. So you’re close-knit.”

Jiaoqiu, your mind utters. What did you do to Jiaoqiu?

The borisin laughs at your unfortunate situation. “Now because of both your stupidity, your life will be nothing but fodder for our cause. Sing praises, little human, you have no one but that fox to blame for your misfortunes.”

“Of course, a lowly beast like you would think like that.” You try to bite back your scowl. “Blame him? How shallow do you see me, blaming someone whom you’ve shackled and taken hostage?”

“You speak as if your opinions hold absolution. Well, relish in these short-lived quips. Our lord wishes to cause chaos within the Xianzhou streets, it won’t take long and you will be nothing but another body to clean up and placed on a star skiff after this farce.”

You close your eyes. White, hot anger threatens to brew out of you like a storm, but you can feel the bones in your legs weakening, the dripping blood causing you to feel lightheaded—is this how you’ll die?

You slump against the stone wall behind you, your vision starting to blur.

“Feixiao.” You mumble, biting your lip one last time. “She’s strong, her alone will be enough to cut down a thousand of you. I swear upon my name, she’ll make sure you borisins will taste nothing but bitter defeat. You and your lord will not leave this ship and see freedom till your last dying br—“

Your words were hindered as something sharp swipes through your throat. Your pulse dies and everything goes pitch black.

For a split moment, his heart hurt and his eyes snapped open to nothing.

The ache is almost indescribable, almost painful as Jiaoqiu jolts awake from a nightmare, hand flying to his throat. He didn't realize he was mumbling in distress until he heard the chair beside him creak clumsily—like someone had jumped up from being seated for so long.

When his nose picks up the scent of Dreambranch incense, Jiaoqiu momentarily realizes where he was.

He lets out a breath. “I wasn’t aware you were here, Moze.”

“Jiaoqiu you…” Jiaoqiu can almost hear the reluctance in his tone—and if he had his vision, he would have seen a complicated expression on the assassin’s face, the familiar furrowed brows and deep frown.

“Don’t sound so uptight. I’m fine, I just had a nightmare is all.” the lighthearted tone quickly withers after remembering the dream that had made his fingers tremble.

“Moze, has…”

Moze is quiet by definition, but the absence of even a breath from him is all too unnerving. Jiaoqiu’s ears twitch, picking up on the way the chair creaks at the weight of being occupied, then a heavy breath.

Bitter is in Moze’s tone. “…little scribe has still not been found yet.”

Jiaoqiu smiles resentfully.

After the whole dilemma with Hoolay and the Wardance ceremony, he had just narrowly escaped the jaws of death when Moze had found him in an alleyway half-dead. He had lost track of the days that passed as he recovered slowly within Luofu's commission.

Everyone is slowly recovering from the aftermath, him, Feixiao and Moze—severely injured from fighting Hoolay and the remainder of the wolves that thrashed the streets.

All but you.

After everything was settled, General Feixiao had ordered knights to track your whereabouts. But not a single person had found you or possibly,

your body.

Jiaoqiu does not like to think of the latter choice.

But it’s been days, and the seed of hope within him is slowly withering.

After fixing his clothes, he peels the blankets which prompts a curt response from Moze.

“Where are you going?”

“I want to take a stroll, I feel restless..”

A gentle yet firm hand lands on his shoulder. “You mustn't.” Moze says. “That dragon lady just injected Draconic Ichor dewdrops to you last night, your tissues haven’t fully replenished, you’re not allowed to move as you please, at least not right now.”

“You’re confined to the alchemy commission just as much as the general and I.” Jiaoqiu quips back. “And yet you’re here in my room, defying clear orders from Miss Lingsha.”

It was unspoken, but Jiaoqiu is aware of the times Moze slips out the commission at night, searching for you until the dawn peaks and people start to flurry back onto the streets.

He’s aware of Feixiao talking with the authorities within the Luofu, talking with higher ups and people to help with the search, to find people who would help find even an inkling of you somewhere.

And just like him, those two are just as aware of the times Jiaoqiu sits alone on the bed, a smile on his lips as Lingsha or Bailu leaves the door when he says he was feeling okay. unaware—but aware to two of his companions—that he’d pray helplessly for your safety every day, praying that you’d show up at some point. He prays, promises that he’d never place mushrooms in your bowl again, so you can finally come back to him.

It wasn't spoken aloud, but actions were made clear on how the Yaoqing general and her two delegates had missed you like no other.

They loved you, after all.

The hand on his shoulder drops, and Jiaoqiu turns to the direction where he knows he’s facing the assassin. He’s still unsure with his own movements and gestures, being in such a state—he’s conflicted of what to feel, but his visual impairment doesn’t affect him as much as his growing dread of your absence and his heavy heart did.

“If you plan to take a stroll, then i’ll accompany you.”

Jiaoqiu’s smile is soft, feeling the looming presence of his companion by his side, easing him towards the door in a clumsy gesture.

“I owe you, Moze.” He tells him when they exit the commission.

“You don’t owe me anything.” Moze replies. “Just, keep yourself healthy so you can continue to be by the General’s side.”

“Of course. Isn’t that already a given due to my position?”

“…You’re making that face.”

Jiaoqiu’s ear flick at his directness.

He pushes out a chuckle, “What face?”

“Like you just failed the General.” The familiar thump thump thump of Moze’s footsteps pause, the pink-haired healer does the same.

“It’s not your fault that they’re missing.”

“Is that so?” Jiaoqiu wonders. From the distance, he can taste the sea waves, the ether trickling its whisper on his ears and kissing his skin cold. “Do you remember what the General told us months ago when we were first called to her office?”

Moze stays quiet. Jiaoqiu continues, “the General had told us that there was an attempted assassination on her kin.” He grits his teeth. “She told us that she was worried, that one day, the most precious person in her life would face a tragic end because of her—“

“Jiaoqiu—“

“The little scribe.” Jiaoqiu sighs, shaky. He feels pathetic, saying all of this in front of Moze. He’s supposed to be the eldest, the wisest, but given the circumstances, there’s nothing but loathing and self-deprecating thoughts in his mind.

Helplessness has found a home in his chest once again, he hasn't felt this way since being a healer on the battlefield.

“There’s no excuse for this.” Jiaoqiu turns then.

“It was direct orders from the General to protect them, I exposed them to Hoolay and now we don’t know if they’re safe or not. I…I failed that order. If only—“

And faltering, “if only I walked away just before they saw me—“

Warmth. Just before he finished his sentence, he felt arms embracing him.

For a moment, he was stunned. Moze hugging him? That’s quite an unlikely situation, then he smells that scent—the scent of wind and vanilla and herbs, as well as the feeling of smaller sinewy arms around his shoulders.

“Is that how you felt, Jiaoqiu?” It was General Feixiao.

“...Did you also slip out of the alchemy commission, General? Ignoring the doctor’s orders again I see.”

“Compared to you, I have almost recovered.” Feixiao’s embrace only tightens much to Jiaoqiu’s surprise. “But you, I heard from Miss Lingsha that you’re healing very poorly despite the treatments you’ve received. They had thought it was because of the toxins still in your body, but I thought of another reason. You feel responsible for what has happened.”

“It’s just a trivial thought of mine, I never wished to concern you with my own health and problems, General.”

“Don’t say nonsense, a healer doesn’t heal himself.” Feixiao mutters on his shoulder. “And I thought an embrace can help ease you, Miss March had said so.”

“Ah, the spirited one from the Astral Express.” Jiaoqiu dithers. “Thank you for the kind offer, General but I’m alright—“

He stiffened once again when he felt another pair of arms around him, piling up on Feixiao's embrace. He is unsure of what to do with his hands, so he pats either of his companion’s arms.

“This isn’t necessary.”

“It is.” Moze says it seriously, dutiful.

Jiaoqiu would have let this slip, if it weren't for the fact that his back is starting to ache from all the weight pushing him down. His companions are—after all—all bulk sinews and muscles from exercise, compared to his leaner stature.

“It isn’t. If anyone were to see this, they would think the Yaoqing—“

“Sorry, am I interrupting a beautiful sentimental moment between comrades?”

Jiaoqiu pushes both Feixiao’s and Moze’s arms when another tone quips up from the distance.

The smell of fragrant roses hits his nose, the subtle feel of the atmosphere shifting at the arrival of that knight whom you have accompanied half the time during the Luofu.

“This is the first time greeting you, knight of beauty.” Feixiao is the first to speak, kindness in her tone. “May I know the agenda of your visit?”

“I have come here to fulfill a request from a friend.” Argenti’s tone dips into genuine sorrow. “As well as to say sorry, for what has happened.”

The clack of armor against the cobblestone, the rustle of something he isn’t quite sure of, then Argenti’s syrupy tone again.

“Your young companion has had a surprise to offer to you three. They had sought me for assistance for it, and it’s only today that the craftsman had finished it. I thought of delivering it on their behalf.”

”What is it?” asks Moze. Argenti steps up and offers a hand, Moze reluctantly extends his, hitting his palm with something soft, almost heavy.

“I heard it’s Xianzhou tradition to give things like this to someone special.” His smile is soft. “It’s to signify good luck and blessings.”

Moze is quiet. “…They did this?”

And the knight nods, giving the other tassels to the two. This was the surprise you’ve been in secrecy for the longest time, Moze notes clutching the red tassel tightly between his palms. It’s a gift, for them.

“Thank you for delivering this, knight.” Feixiao offers her gratitude. She's the only one that is engaged in the conversation, Moze is otherwise quiet—and Jiaoqiu’s too busy trying to trace a pattern on the tassel thread to say his own tidings.

But Argenti is understanding, after a few more words said, the knight of beauty excuses himself, leaving the three to their own thoughts.

When silence is all that envelopes, Feixiao turns towards her companions.

“Do you want me to place the tassel on your person, Jiaoqiu?” The pink-haired healer smiles at the gentle brush of his general’s tone, giving his tassel to her so she can hang the accessory around his belt.

“I can do it for you too, Moze.”

“Okay.” Moze leans forward. “I’ll place yours, General.”

The tassels are caressed by the gentle breeze of the distant shore of Lunarescent Depths, the meaning of its thread weighs heavy.

“They are alive somewhere, that I am sure of.” Feixiao said it like a promise than an assumption. “We won’t return to the Yaoqing until I am sure of that.”

“I am with you, General.” rasps Moze.

“Where will I be if not by your side as your doctor?” Jiaoqiu chuckles. “Even with my current state, I wish to give it my everything.”

Suddenly, hurried footfalls on heavy cobblestone gave way to a new arrival.

Both Jiaoqiu and Feixiao’s ears twitch at the sound. Moze’s sharp eyes darted towards a Cloudknight who was approaching them, out of breath.

“General Feixiao!’ the Cloudknight heaves a breath, his hurriedness draws all three to his manners.

“What is it?”

“The Yaoqing scribe—your companion has been found.” The air stills and Jiaoqiu inhales a sharp breath, the Cloudknight continues through heavy breaths. “The IPC representatives have claimed that they found your scribe, they had just entered the Alchemy commission.”

It’s a miracle, one peels at your consciousness. Thank your Reighbow arbiter for such wonderment, you were given a second chance, the second sores a bruise on your skin.

Your carotid arteries are surprisingly intact, you only manage to harbor a few broken rib cages, wrist bone and clavicle, the third draws a muddy filth until you find yourself awakening from a tormented scene, clutching the expanse of your bandaged-wrapped neck like you’ve lost its anatomy—for a short moment, you thought you have gone without a neck.

Your eyes bruise beneath the sun, sticking it towards the open window of Luofu’s Alchemy Commission, the wind gossips, and the duvets hug your thin frame.

You inhale the medical-scented room, you're alive, exhale, you're okay.

“Feixiao.” your dry mouth utters the first words. “Jiaoqiu.” you push yourself up, dragging your feet towards the edge of the bed, toes hitting cold planks.

“Mo—” then, the door bursts open.

Your eyes snap up and a lamp lights in your pupils.

Moze was standing there, in the flesh.

“Moze—” and you startle in surprise when the gaps between the two of you immediately cease, large arms engulfing you whole. Which was unexpected, because Moze is not one to initiate physical contact with anyone. But to the assassin—feeling you in his arms, the dresses of breaths you let out and the warmth that wools you reassures Moze that you are here. You truly are here in his arms.

“You’re okay.” came his shaky response, he gathers you closer, your beating pulse resting on his cheek. “You’re fine now.”

A couple more footfalls came, Feixiao and Jiaoqiu had arrived.

Feixiao calls your name when her eyes land on you, the synonyms a delicate stroke on her tongue, then her warm palm finds a home on your cheek.

You gaze at her, watching her ocean eyes crinkle with relief, her ears tilted back to show just how troubled she was. “I thought I lost you.”

“I’m sorry, sister.”

She leans forward to bump her forehead with yours, levity in the air. “Don’t be sorry.”

When Moze and Feixiao finally pull away, your eyes drag towards the last person in the room who hasn’t uttered a single word yet. You see a smile on his lips but it does not reach his eyes.

“Jiaoqiu,”

“Little scribe,” his voice betrays his calm disposition. “You’re okay.”

“I am.” you start. “Please come closer.”

You see his reluctance before he approaches you—slightly slower than normal—reaching his arms out before finding your bed, sitting on the edge of it. His actions sent an ache through your heart.

“How are you feeling?” Jiaoqiu asks. “We heard your wrist was broken and your throat slashed…”

“The medicine that the healers from the IPC gave me helped and my wrist is healing. But you, Jiaoqiu, I heard that your eyes…”

Jiaoqiu gives you a smile and you finally confirm that it is in fact true.

He cannot see anymore.

Even if he’s visually unavailable, Jiaoqiu knows you. And he knew you were crying, his fingers reaching out to you, trying to feel where you were. You meet him halfway, clasping your fingers with his and pressing your cheek against the palm of his hand. His thumb swipes across your wet skin and his forehead taps against yours.

The whole situation weighs on your chest—your endangerment, the severe injuries those three received, the aftermath and the reunion, you cannot help but finally crash down from everything. You wrap your arms around Jiaoqiu, a heavy sob wracking through your whole body and he holds you impossibly close. You feel Moze’s and Feixiao’s hands rubbing circles on your back, soothing your cries.

“Please don’t cry, I’m—we’re okay.” Jiaoqiu softly croons, running his thumb up and down the wet skin of your cheek.

“So are you,” his face crumbles and he bites back his own sobs. “Thank you so much for being okay and coming back to us, thank you so much.”

When your heavy cries fade into weak sniffles, Jiaoqui holds the frame of your face so delicately, wiping away the remnants of wetness, leaning down to rub your nose with his. “Better?” and in response, you grunted.

Everyone takes a seat near your bed. Moze reaches out to give you a handkerchief and you gratefully take it. Afterwards, you fall back into conversation, asking them what had happened during your absence. Feixiao is the one to elaborate to you the aftermath of the borisin attack, their recovery and the resume of the Wardance.

You crack a smile, “I was really excited to see that ceremony.”

“We can all go there together.” There’s a faint smile on Moze’s lips. “That knight will take part from what I heard and there will be other contestants across the universe.”

“After our recovery, since everything has been handled by General Jingyuan, I will be able to join you three and partake in the ceremony.” Feixiao speaks. “It will take about a week before the Wardance will conclude, then we can all return to the Yaoqing.”

The Yaoqing, your gaze drops to your hands, your smile thinning.

“...I have something to tell you three.”

This garners their attention, with a breath of courage you mutter out, “When the Luminary Wardance concludes in Luofu, I won’t be returning to the Yaoqing.”

You look up, your face serious. “ I’ll be joining the Intelligentsia Guild.”

Hours prior to your return to the Alchemy commission, you find yourself in a room that has been rented out by the IPC.

Someone knocks on your door and you grit back an exhale.

“I believe I’ve already sent my regards to you lot. I am grateful for your aid but I never imagined I would be bombarded, entangled in some miscellany with the IPC, much less..”

You turn your head, glare landing on the tall man with dark purple hair. “Much less from such a distinguished figure from the renowned Intelligentsia Guild.” You let out a tired sigh. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Let’s not speak in riddles and pleasantries then.” Despite your bite, Ratio’s tone remains firm and gentle. “You are already aware of our intentions and I’m merely here to remind you of it.”

“As I said it once and I’ll say it again. I’m a pathstrider of the hunt, I have no interest in joining other factions.”

“I suppose a little stubbornness will suffice, however your missing the point of my argument. Your companions, I heard those three Yaoqing folks—including you—were severely injured during the attack of the borisins. If the IPC hadn't found you when they did, I’m afraid you would have been dead, long ago.”

“So this is the game you’re playing. I heard the Intelligentsia Guild was heavily sponsored by the IPC. I have dealt with people like you during my time in the Yaoqing office and I’m not a fool to fall for your petty schemes. This talk is more catered to your interest much more than mine, am I right, Doctor?”

Dr. Ratio sighs. “I must admit, I was sent here under orders from Madam Yabuli. But I also have my own curiosities about you.”

“Your achievements in the Yaoqing are far more popular than you think. The IPC has recognized it and so have I. There’s an open spot in the Intelligentsia Guild that we can offer you, the Candelagraphos, it’s a printing department of the guild. Your scribe work has gained acknowledgement outside its capital and thus would make a good addition to us.”

Your fist is clenched onto the blanket, “So it’s more of a one-sided investment for you and your guild.”

“Incorrect.” Ratio says. “Going back to your companions, one of them holds the ancestral bloodline of the borisins, and the other has had his vision critically impaired—” Your chest twists at what he said. “—If you join the guild, you can gain access to a lot of information to help them that you can use at your own personal discretion.”

Ratio stands, setting a glass of water and medicinal herbs at your bedside. “That’s my offer to you.” He nods. “I do hope you think this one carefully, at your state, this is more of an opportunity than a disadvantage. I will provide assistance and vouch for you. For now, please rest.”

He turns. “You will return to your family tomorrow.”

Instead of resting like what Dr. Ratio had said, your heart is a bouquet of conflict. You spent the entire day tossing and turning, thinking about his offer, thinking about the possibility and opportunity you can get,

Thinking about leaving them, your mind pauses at the notion. You thought about it again before dismissing it. Their impact on you is so significant that you cannot envision living a life without Feixiao, Jiaoqiu and Moze. They helped you stand on your own two feet, would you still be able to stay afloat when they’re no longer by your side?

Then clarity sinks into your artery.

Jiaoqiu’s permanent injuries and Feixiao’s chronic illness. You can find something to help them, and thus as the sun sinks its color on the horizon line, you made the decision to accept.

You had explained your situation and decisions to your companions. Your hands had turned clammy as they listened to you intently.

Jiaoqiu’s ears twitch. “...You want to join them and use your experience as the Yaoqing’s scribe to research more about our conditions?”

“I thought about it and I don't see any reason to give up on this opportunity.” Your gaze drags to each of them slowly, dissecting the emotions on their faces.

“I have an idea of what you are gonna say, and I am aware of the dangers of joining them. But this is a choice I made, Jiaoqiu and Moze—you both have been my protectors and companions for a short time but it felt like an eternity. Ever since that day at my sister’s office, I never expected for such a bond to happen, nor did I expect to care so so much about you both. If I could go back and do it all again—I won’t change a single thing. Now it’s my turn to help you out.”

Your eyes flicker to Feixiao. “Sister.” you start. “You have been protecting me for all my life, please allow me to do the same for you. I’ll search for a cure for you and Jiaoqiu with my own abilities, please.”

Silence, and you waited with battered breaths, slightly terrified of their reactions. After all, if you join the intelligentsia guild, you would be leaving them.

Then you hear a breathy chuckle, you look up and all three of them are smiling at you.

“Is this what you want to do?” Feixiao asks.

You nod your head and her grin widens. “If that is what you wish for, then who am I to deny such a thing?

Moze lets out a breath, nudging you softly. “We will leave it in your extremely capable hands, Yaoqing’s scribe.”

“We are nothing but proud of you.” Jiaoqiu’s smile is so, so sweet. “Never forget that.”

“I have always been worried about you and your future. If this is the path that you chose for yourself, then go for it, I wouldn’t dare block you from doing something you want to do.” Feixiao reaches out to caress your cheek. “Then, should we spend the next few days together? This will be the last time all of us will be able to hang around each other.”

Your eyes are on your hands, your vision blurring as you try to wipe the wetness from your lashes. “Yeah, okay. That’s a deal.”

The day continued, but most of it was spent being in each other’s company, talking about anything and everything under the sun like you’d always do. The epilogue of the day started when Miss Lingsha knocked on your door, asking for Jiaoqiu to do a quick check up. Everyone had decided to end the day there, not before bidding you a good night’s rest.

By the time you all were able to finally leave the Alchemy commission, the Wardance ceremony had finally commenced. The four of you enjoyed watching the contestants battle to your heart’s content. The atmosphere dressed with the thrill of the crowd, at some point—when a Belobogian fighter was pitting against one of the robots of the IPC, you notice Moze looking at you from the corner of your eye.

“Is something the matter?” You catch his stare, but his velvety irises were intent on something on your face.

He points towards the side of his mouth. “Sauce.”

“Oh.” You immediately raise your hand to wipe—your sleeve comes with a drag of the familiar orangey sauce of your skewer. You thanked Moze and he nodded at you in greeting.

Five seconds pass.

“Want to try?” You raise your berrypheasant skewer to him. You cannot help but laugh at the quiet enthusiasm Moze showed, you cup a hand beneath when he leaned down to take a bite.

You grin at him as his expression glowed at the sweet taste.

It's easy to get lost in the flurry of joy and before you know it, the Luminary Wardance has been concluded and it is your final night with them before you go your separate ways. The night is gradual and Jiaoqiu finds himself conscious on his bed. His face wrinkles on a wince, feeling a burn crawling up his pulse and his chest caving in on himself—chronic pain, he remembered a doctor telling him post-discharge. Due to Lupitoxin and the aftermath of that tumbleweed I’m afraid you will be experiencing episodes of chronic pain.

The healer could do nothing but bite his lip to ease his pain rolling in waves.

Through the pain that hummed in his ears, he heard footfalls nearing his room. It’s the kind of pattering that happens when rain hits a soft cloth, the type that almost anchors him from his splintered head.

His heavy breath hitches when there’s a delicate rapping of knocks, then someone approaching his bed. He recognizes the familiar pattern of footsteps and turns his back to it.

“Are you awake, Jiaoqiu?”

A second too late. “Is something the matter?”

Silence greets him. He feels someone tug his blankets, lifting his duvets so you can occupy the space beside him.

Your head touches his back, Jiaoqiu clenches his hand.

“Did you have a bad dream?” Jiaoqiu asks.

“Yeah.” Your voice is barely a whisper. “Jiaoqiu, does it hurt?”

“No—” he slightly chokes on his reply. “I’m fine—I just need a few minutes, it will fade. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, please don’t apologize—”

“Then, can I hug you for a few minutes?” you ask. “Just for a few minutes—”

Before you can finish your own sentence, he has turned around and pulls you in his arms. Jiaoqiu smells like medicinal herbs and fragrance from incense.

You bury your face on his chest. He feels your hand clutch him tightly. “I…I wish I can stay for a little while longer and help—”

Jiaoqiu hushes you. “Why are you faltering now? Didn't you promise me that you would go to the guild to find a cure?”

“I know I did. I still want to go, but I wish to go to the Yaoqing first and be of assistance to you even for a short while. Leaving like this…”

“I will be okay, that I can promise you. Yes, it will be difficult but I don’t want my health to be a detriment to what you want to do.” Jiaoqiu’s warm breath is on your neck. There is a gentle rhythm to his palm running up and down on your back. “This isn’t our last goodbye, so don’t fret your head about it. By the time you come and visit, I will be better. Now sleep, you need the rest for the journey tomorrow.”

“Can I hold your hand while I fall asleep?”

Jiaoqiu chuckles heartily. “Silly.” He finds your hand, the furnace of warmth dancing beneath his palm. “I’ll allow it tonight. Now rest.”

Sometime during the night, like an invisible string—Moze appears, materializing within the room, his eyes gentle at the scene. You awaken to his familiar footsteps and the light rustle as you smell him burning another incense, stirring from your slumber and fluttering your drowsy gaze at the assassin.

Just as you part your lips to utter his name, Moze presses a finger to his lips.

He draws closer, pulling the blanket over both your shoulders and dragging a chair to rest beside the bed.

When your eyes lock with his, he mouths ‘keeping watch, go back to sleep.’

Your eyes crinkle and your heart flutters at his simple way of affection. You are aware of him coming sooner or later, according to your sister’s words, Moze would secretly slip into Jiaoqiu’s room. She believes he does this because he knows of the chronic pain and would light up the fragrant incense on the windowsill to make sure Jiaoqiu slept with a calm mind.

Then and there you’ve realized how different it is for them to love, to comfort. Not only love for you but love for each other. Feixiao and the two had a bond that was furnaced into iron—they were each other’s saving graces and security for as long as you remembered.

You can feel the weight of Jiaoqiu’s head next to yours, his arm loose around your waist. With your free hand you extend it towards Moze.

He looks at it, unsure of what you wanted.

“It’s chilly.”

“I just pulled the covers on you, are you still cold?”

“Your hand can warm me up nicely.” You say softly, “please?”

Moze’s palm without his glove is full of calloused surface, dried scars and roughness against your own. “Thank you,”

A beat of silence, then you see Moze lean forward. He runs his thumb across the bandages of your wrist.

“Your wrist.” He enunciates first. “Does it still hurt?”

Your lips curl up, shaking your head. But Moze does the honor of pressing his lips against your bandages, as if to ease you. Your consciousness slips to the comfort of Moze’s forehead on your knuckles, as if apologizing for being unable to protect you.

I’m sorry. His gestures suggest.

You squeeze back. Fingers brushing delicate strands of his grey hair, it’s okay.

When the night vanishes and the day breaks, Feixiao enters, then stops when she sees all three of you huddled together still sound asleep. The room barely nurses the sunny-egg yolk morning, creeping slow gold through the hard flooring.

Feixiao’s chuckle is thick with mirth. She grabs an extra blanket in the cabinet and quietly covers Moze’s frame slumbering stiffly on the chair, allowing a few more moments of respite between the three of you.

A few hours later, it’s finally time for departure and you stand on the Starskiff Jetty, your bags already loaded onto the skiff. Moze was the first to close the distance, giving you a very long hug as if to satiate the yearning he’d have if you leave. His muscled arms only seem to tighten as the seconds drag and you’re more than welcoming of this side of him.

“Take care of them and yourself.” Your whisper brushes his ear and you feel him hum.

“I’ll handle things over here,” he presses his lips against your temple. “You take care.”

When you pull away, you turn to Jiaoqiu. You’re the one that stepped into his open arms, claiming his shoulder as your homage for a split moment.

“I’m going to miss you.” His voice comes with a tremble. When he pulls away, his hands lay purchase on the chub of your cheeks. He runs his fingers through every angle, crook and dip like he’s memorizing the shape of your face.

You clasp his fingers and press a kiss to the back of his hand. “Me too.”

Jiaoqiu lifts his head, nodding at Moze. “I’ve packed you some Xianzhou food—with the help of Moze, of course. Thought you’d want to eat some one last time.” You turn and Moze hands you a bag of stacked lunch boxes. You cannot help the smile that creeps up your lips at the endearment.

“Thank you so much.” You dare try to sneak a peek inside one of the containers. The familiar aroma of Jiaoqiu’s homemade foods fill your bones in heavy nostalgia.

In one of the bowls, you’ve noticed something.

Your eyes snap up, “There’s no mushrooms.”

There was elation that crossed the fox’s expression, the tips of his lips curve upward and his tail swishes behind him.

“Just like you wanted.”

Your laughter is filled with sentimentality, you try to hide your sniffle, it does not escape him. “This is a first. I swear I'll miss eating your mushrooms though, even if I hated it.”

Jiaoqiu chuckles, reaching out to hold your face one last time. “I’ll take note of that then.”

Lastly, you turn towards Feixiao. A gracious smile settled on her lips.

“Sister.”

“Come here.” Her embrace is almost your last straw. You bury your nose on the crook of her shoulder, reminiscing her scent. Feixiao must’ve noticed your faltering disposition, for she had landed her hand on your back, dragging her palm up and down.

“Don’t cry.” She tells you.

“I’ll miss you, so so much,”

“I know.” She pulls you tighter. “I know. I’m gonna miss you too. You’re always welcomed into the Yaoqing anytime you wish to visit, and remember to write to us, okay?”

Feixiao rubs her cheek against your own. You nod and she spares you another grin. “Here.” She reaches for something. “I want you to have this.”

“What’s this?” You hold the tiny scroll in your palm.

“It’s a letter.” At her reply, you look up. “Open it when you’re on the ship.”

The time has finally come, and from behind Dr. Ratio calls your name. You turn to him, then back at them. Now that you’re gonna be separated, there’s hesitation rooted in your feet.

But your companions offer you encouraging smiles and you finally take a step away from them. With one last glance from behind and a—farewell, I love you—you enter the IPC starskiff. From your seat, you watch Feixiao, Moze and Jiaoqiu enter a different ship boarded for Yaoqing.

You press your hand against the glass, watching as their skiff breaks away from the same road as yours. Now that you’re here, there’s a creeping loneliness that settles on your chest.

“You think you’re gonna be okay?” Ratio comes by to check up on you and you nod your head, wiping the tears that rolls down your cheeks.

“Yes, sorry. I’ll be okay.”

You watch his eyes soften, crushed by a mortar and pestle. “The first goodbyes are always the hardest, there’s no need for apologies. It’s gonna be a long trip to the guild so help yourself with anything the ship provides. The IPC is the one funding it after all.”

“Alright, thank you doctor.”

When the Xianzhou Luofu disappears from your window view and the ocean of the vast galaxies span across vision, you finally tear away from it. You land your wet eyes on your clasp palms, the scroll that Feixiao gave you delicate in your hands.

You inhale, exhale, then open the letter—when the top comes off with a pop, something topples onto your lap and your eyes twinkle. Inside contains the same hand-crafted tassel, the only difference is that it is engraved with all your names,

You flatten the letter onto your palms next and it reads,

Even if such a perilous challenge comes your way, you were always the type to persist. We have always been aware of it, and in our eyes you are a strong and resilient person. We know you’ll do amazing wherever you go, you always have been, and we are so proud of you.

We’ll be alright, just as you would be.

May fates bring us all together one day, and when you come back to visit, let’s all have a meal together like we always do.

You are the pride of the Yaoqing, safe travels our dear scribe.

Much love, your guardians.

When your eyes rove the last characters of the letter it starts to blur. Your heart is honeyed by their words. You press your lips against the paper before lifting your gaze to the universe outside.

Goodbye, Xianzhou. You say your greetings to your home, no longer somber in the heart. Because at the end of the day,

You know you’ll all be okay.

THE END.

#jiaoqiu x reader #moze x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #jiaoqiu honkai star rail #moze honkai star rail #feixiao honkai star rail #honkai star rail fic #—stellaronhvnters.#⋆ ࣪. 🪐 kou works.

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wheeboo · 1 day ago

Text

candy | yoon jeonghan

SYNOPSIS. After moving back into the city to be closer with friends and family, you start receiving letters from an unknown sender in your mail. When curiosity gets the better of you, you decide to respond, and what begins as a simple sweet-tasting exchange soon blossoms into something more with someone you’ve never met—or so you think. But as the snow continues to fall, you find yourself confronting the bitter-tasting feelings you thought were long buried back in your youth, as well as the person who’s been hiding in plain sight all along. Loosely inspired from vocal unit’s, Candy. PAIRING. yoon jeonghan x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, penpal au, angst, exes to lovers, second chance romance WARNINGS. swearing, alcohol and food consumption, jeonghan and reader broke up on bad terms, low mental health mentions, constant push-pull dynamic between them that it's infuriating, brief one bed trope, terms of endearment, kissing WORD COUNT. 20.8k

notes: this is my fic for the @camandemstudios "winter with you" collab! thank you to @bananabubble @slytherinshua @etherealyoungk for either reading over this or dealing with me crashing out HAHA. tho i'm kind of unsatisfied and not entirely proud of how this fic turned out in the end, i hope you enjoy nonetheless. please make sure to check out the other fics in the collab as well! spread some love to all talented authors who worked so hard on their work <3

Hi. I hope this message gets to you well, and if this is random, or maybe even scary, well… I truly apologise, oops. I drank a little too much tonight, and was obnoxiously dared to send a holiday postcard to a random apartment in the building. Do people even still do that nowadays? Anyway, the holidays are coming up! Continue to stay warm, whoever you are. - 017

You stare at the letter for a minute or two, eyeing over the sloppy cursive penmanship. The ink of the letters are smudged and the uneven strokes hint at either too much wine or the kind of nervousness that makes hands unsteady. Or maybe both.

When you flip the letter over, it was pretty plain in of itself, other than the festive design of snowflakes scattered over the front. But you didn’t catch sight of any name behind the letter, just what you can only assume to be their door number, and an awful doodle of what you could decipher to be a snowman with a ridiculously long nose.

Based on the numbering they signed off with, they’d be on the bottom floor, probably somewhere in the west wing, the complete opposite part of where you’re staying. You’ve barely had time to familiarise yourself with the neighbours since moving in just about a week ago𑁋too many boxes to unpack and too little energy to make small talk𑁋but now you find yourself wondering who might live there.

Setting the letter down on your kitchen counter, you brush off some stray snowflakes that landed on your coat, shredding it off and tossing it off in another direction, quietly mulling over the handwritten words shining under the singular light above.

Your first instinct is to simply brush it off as some holiday prank or a fleeting moment of courage from the alcohol on their part. But there’s a small part of you𑁋a part that’s always leaned into curiosity more than you’d care to admit𑁋that lingers on the way they ended it. Continue to stay warm, whoever you are. There’s something… a bit nice about the way they wrote it, as if they truly meant it, and for some reason it’s enough to quirk up a small smile to your face.

You could respond, but then again, would that be strange? After all, you don’t even know this person. They could be anyone𑁋someone too bored or drunk to care about the implications of sending a random note. But then again, what would you even say? Thank you for your drunken holiday cheer? Do you be polite or try to be comical? The thought makes you laugh quietly to yourself.

You’ve always been a little too curious for your own good, and something about the letter feels harmless𑁋charming, even. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to keep it going. It isn’t like you had much to do tonight anyway other than wading in the thought of how empty your apartment feels right now.

Instead of discarding it, you choose to pin the letter on your refrigerator behind a cat magnet, before rushing to your room to shuffle through a drawer of office supplies. With a click of the pen, you press the tip to the smooth surface of this beige-coloured paper that was staring right back at you, and you immediately pause, because what the hell were you even going to say?

Still, the curious part of you doesn’t let go.

Hi, 017. I wasn’t expecting to receive a holiday postcard in my mail, let alone from a stranger, but here we are. First of all, love the snowman. Could rival Pinnochio or something, right? Sorry that was pretty lame to say write. Hopefully the hangover won’t be too bad. If it helps, drink a metric ton of water (not literally though, please), and make some nice, hot ramen. To answer your question, I have no idea if people still send postcards, but it’s nice that you did. It made me smile, to be honest. Anyway, I guess I’ll leave it at that. No need to drag this out. Stay warm on your end too, whoever you are. - 526

There’s no going back now, it seems.

A small snowball strikes your cold cheek.

“The hell, man?” You quip, lightly elbowing Soonyoung as he stumbles dramatically away.

“Come on, can’t a guy miss their best friend? You were gone for a whole ass three years and the only thing missing is the dramatic reunion we deserve,” Soonyoung pouts exaggeratingly, brushing snow off his gloves as he trails beside you on the sidewalk. “That was tame compared to the fireworks I have planned, you know. Oh, and the ski resort we’re going to for New Years. Mingyu and Seokmin have it all booked already.”

“Fireworks? A ski resort?” You crack a laugh at that. “Fireworks are getting more expensive than convenience store ramen, dude.”

“It’s a start!” Soonyoung counters, grinning widely that you swear never gets old. “You left us with nothing but a goodbye text, and now you’re back as if you didn’t ghost the group chat for ages. If I didn’t love you so much, I’d throw a bigger snowball next time.”

His words carry a teasing edge, but there’s something warm that hides underneath them, something comforting about having this kind of familiarity again after being gone for so long because of school and other opportunities. You’ve missed this𑁋missed them, missed everyone you’ve pretty much left behind in all the time you were gone.

“You guys really went all out for me, huh?”

“Yepper-doo.”

You cringe at that. “Please don’t say that ever again.” But Soonyoung just laughs.

As the two of you trail through the busy city, you realise that hardly anything has changed ever since you left. There’s familiar sightings of places you’ve shopped at and eaten back then, like the cinema down the street where you used to go on a marathon to watch all the Studio Ghibli films that would only play a few times a year. Or that arcade place where the pizza was always just a little too greasy and left you with an angry stomach ache at times.

“I’m sorry, I know I suck at keeping in touch,” You admit in a shameful manner, adjusting your scarf with a bit of apprehension. “But I’m here now, okay? Trying to fix things and whatnot.”

Soonyoung’s grin melts into something more genuine, and he playfully pats your snow-covered shoulder. “We know, dummy. And I’m glad you’re here. Just don’t think you can disappear on us like that again. I’ve got a whole arsenal of snowballs, and I’ll make Mingyu go full mom mode if he has to.”

His words wrap like a blanket around you, the guilt you’ve been carrying on your shoulders easing just a little. You’ve been worried about how your absence might have created a gap too wide to bridge across. But here’s Soonyoung, your best friend for the last decade, in all his chaotic, sunshine-like glory, meeting you halfway as if nothing’s changed.

You missed your life here… for the most part.

“Thanks,” You mutter, offering him a small, grateful smile.

“Don’t sweat it.” He wraps an arm around you. “Come on, the ol’ café is right around the corner.”

It’s almost as if your feet remember the exact path to the café he was talking about. It’s a place that has quite literally watched over your lives𑁋over the way you’ve all grown from pubescent, snobby teenagers to young adults struggling to navigate through adulthood. The café still stands in the exact spot as you remember, nestled between the local laundromat and a smoke shop that had been rebranded one too many times. Just seeing it again tugs at a memory, a bittersweet warmth spreading through your chest.

The scent of coffee beans and fresh pastries float through the air as you step inside right after Soonyoung. It's been years since you last walked in here, yet everything feels oddly familiar, nostalgic even. You see the chipped ceramic rugs lining some the shelves, the mismatched chairs and old wooden tables, the cozy corner booths where you and your friends spent countless hours talking about everything and nothing at all𑁋it’s all still here, like it’s stuck in time.

Soonyoung drags you right to the front by the sleeve of your coat, before forcing you to stand in place.

“Okay, order for me. I gotta piss!” he whisper-yells to you.

You blink. “Wait, what do you want𑁋”

But Soonyoung bolts away to the restroom before you could even ask what he wants, and you roll your eyes as you face back forward, letting your shoulders fall relaxingly. You tap your feet rhythmically on the floor below, scrolling aimlessly through your phone as you wait for your turn, your best friend seemingly taking an ungodly amount of time in the bathroom.

Soonyoung still isn’t back by the time it’s your time to order, and when you glance up from your phone, you nearly drop it to the floor.

He still looks the same. It’s not the kind of revelation that should have left you breathless and your heart hammering a bolt in your chest, but it does. He doesn’t look much different, besides the longer hair where the tips barely graze his shoulders had been dyed to a light blonde that complemented his warm, sleepy brown eyes. But it’s the way his presence fills the room, the way the familiarity of his smile still carries that same, natural calmness from before𑁋it’s as if nothing had changed. As if you hadn’t been gone for years. As if everything that happened between the two of you had never even happened.

He seems to suck in a breath of his own, too.

“Hello,” Jeonghan simply greets, and his voice makes you shift your weight uncomfortably between your two feet.

“Two hot chocolates, please,” You say all too quickly, already fishing your card out of your wallet and tapping it against the counter impatiently, nervously.

Jeonghan seems to notice your slight discomfort as he punches in your order, taking his precious time doing so, and it only wants to make you melt into the ground below just so you wouldn’t feel his eyes on you. Then he gives you that imperceptible, almost teasing smile, the one that used to make your insides twist when you were younger. It used to be one of comfort, but now it only brings a bitter taste to your mouth.

He opens his mouth to speak, “It’s been𑁋”

“The order is for Y/N. Thank you,” You respond almost irritatingly, already turning away on your heel and heading to the pick-up counter before he can finish his sentence. The last thing you want right now is to be stuck in a conversation that you’ve avoided for years. The bitterness in your mouth grows, but you try to push it down, focusing on the sensation of your fingers gripping your phone tightly.

You feel your thoughts bouncing painfully off the walls in your head𑁋what are the odds? What are the odds that the one café you’ve practically grown up in houses the one person you’ve tried to bury in your past?

“Did you order?!” Soonyoung’s voice pops back in as he’s shaking away his damp hands, a few drops of the water landing on your hot skin. “Sorry I took so long. There literally wasn’t any toilet paper left and I𑁋”

“When did he start working here?”

“What?” Soonyoung asks, blinking at you with a puzzled expression as he takes in your stiff posture. Then he follows to where you’re staring at𑁋at Jeonghan who was quietly preparing some drinks behind the counter𑁋and his jaw drops to the floor. “Oh. Well, I think he𑁋”

“Actually, just… Just forget about it,” You mutter, cutting Soonyoung off, eyes still watching Jeonghan’s movements, a certain casualness behind it that’s almost annoying.

Soonyoung glances over at Jeonghan, who is now wiping his hands on a towel, his gaze lifting briefly in your direction. The briefest moment of eye contact makes your stomach churn. Soonyoung notices it too, but instead of pushing, he shrugs it off.

“I know you two never really got the chance to𑁋”

“No,” You interrupt Soonyoung again, facing him with a sharp look. “I’m not interested, okay?”

That bitterness falls on your tongue again, like a taste of candy that’s been left out too long𑁋sweet at first but quickly souring in your mouth.

Before Soonyoung can say anything else, your name is called from the counter. You turn away, eager to get the drinks and just leave the café before things can spiral into anything more. However, it’s him that’s handing you the drinks as you approach the counter, and for a second, the tips of his fingers brush against your hand.

“Welcome home,” Jeonghan says quietly, his voice almost a whisper, and it hits you like a cold breeze. You shiver at that.

Dear 526, Hello. I wasn’t even sure if I’d write again after that postcard, but here we are. I think I owe you an apology for my first letter. I wasn’t expecting a reply at all. I figured you’d just laugh it off and forget about it. But you didn’t, and that somehow feels comforting. It’s nice to know I made someone, let alone you, smile. Anyway, about the snowman, I’m glad you liked it! It wasn’t even supposed to be Pinnochio, but art is subjective, right? The nose might be a bit exaggerated, but it felt fitting at the time, I guess. I did end up having a pretty nasty hangover. The ramen really did help, by the way, and I drank a shit ton of water too. Maybe not a metric ton, but close enough. Thank you for the advice though. You’re a lifesaver. I’ll end it here. No need to drag it out as you said, unless you’re fine with that. Hopefully your week has been going well. Life just got strange over here, to be honest. But anyway, continue to stay warm. - 017

To 017, Your snowman absolutely looked like Pinocchio. Don’t even try to deny it. Also, your cursive handwriting is pretty neat. I’m glad you survived your hangover. I don’t even drink that much myself, so I took to Google for advice. Perhaps you should thank them instead. Life getting strange, you say? Cryptic, much? I’m curious now. But you don’t have to elaborate. If anything, it’s also getting strange here as well. I’ve just recently moved back into the city, and I am not sure how I feel about it. Funny how life works like that. Familiar places seem to have a way of digging up memories you’d rather leave buried, you know? I guess life really likes throwing curveballs. But enough about that. Thanks for writing back. - 526 P.S. If life is strange on your end, write about it. I don’t mind long letters.

You don’t even hesitate in pinning 017’s letter on your refrigerator this time.

You don’t know why you’re standing in front of the café again.

It’s late, far later than you intended to be out. Bags of convenience store food are tightly gripped in your hands, snow crunching beneath your feet as you take another step towards the door of the cafe, before stepping back again.

You feel ridiculous standing there, like the answer lies right behind the door, and all you had to do was push it open. The glow of the lights inside spills through the frosted glass, casting warm hues on the snowy pavement. The temptation to just walk away gnaws at you.

What are you even hoping to accomplish here?

You sigh, your breath floating like wisps in the cold air, shaking your head dismissively. The bags in your hands crinkle as you shift your grip, trying to convince yourself that this is a bad idea. But then, as if on autopilot, your feet move forward, and as you are about to push through the door, it swings open by itself.

Jeonghan steps out, his coat slung loosely over his shoulders, his blonde hair catching the soft light. He freezes when he sees you, the surprise in his eyes giving way to something else𑁋something unreadable. And you could only stand there, like a deer caught in headlights. For a moment, or minute, maybe even a whole damn hour, neither of you speak.

He’s the first to break the silence.

“Did you want to come in?” he asks.

“I𑁋no,” You stammer, gripping the bags in your hands even tighter. “I was just passing by.”

Jeonghan simply stares at you for a beat or two, his lips forming a thin line.

“You were never really a good liar, you know.”

You wince at the words, even though they aren't said harshly. It’s the fact that he still knows you so well, despite everything that’s passed between the two of you. It makes the sting go even deeper into your heart. The years apart have changed you, shaped you in ways that should’ve made him a stranger.

And yet, here he is, looking at you like nothing’s different.

“Okay, I was… I was thinking of getting some coffee before𑁋”

“Since when did you become a coffee person?”

The slight quirk you catch on his lips makes your stomach twist into an uneasy knot. You hate how he seems to still know you like the lines on the back of your hand, hate how he can still read you so easily, even after all this time.

You hate how you can’t fully hate him, even if you’ve convinced yourself enough times that you’re supposed to.

Jeonghan’s eyes flicker curiously over you once more, and there’s a slight shiver to your limbs that he catches sight of.

“Do you want to come inside? I could give you some coffee before I𑁋”

“No,” You cut him off sharply, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “I’m fine. I just... I don’t want anything from you.”

Jeonghan’s expression falters, the familiar trace of concern flickering behind his eyes. It makes you nearly want to give in, but you refuse to show that vulnerability, because you don’t want to feel that way again. You don’t want to be the person who needs him. You can’t let yourself fall back into his orbit, because does the sun really care if you burn yourself trying to get close to it again?

He doesn’t move, his eyes narrowing into something contemplative. His mouth opens, likely to say something, but then he just closes it again. His gaze still doesn’t leave you, studying the way you stand, as if trying to figure out what’s going on inside your head.

He doesn’t move, his eyes narrowing and softening into something contemplative. His gaze still doesn’t leave you, studying the way you stand, as if trying to figure out what’s going on inside your head. He brushes a stray lock of hair behind his ear and steps back up a fraction, letting his shoulders deflate in what may be defeat.

“It’s really been a while, hasn’t it?”

You swallow hard. You can’t deny that it’s been so long, but here he is, standing in front of you, almost the same, yet so different. Maybe it’s the more mature look in his eyes, but something about him feels less like the Jeonghan you once knew, and you can’t quite place your finger on why that makes you even more unsettled.

“Yeah. It has.”

Jeonghan shifts between his two feet and stuffs his hands inside the pockets of his coat. You remember how easily cold he would get back then, always wrapping himself in layers even when the air wasn’t particularly chilly or sneaking his hands into your pockets as an excuse to get close with you.

A part of you wishes he’d just leave. You wish you could escape to avoid this conversation. But you’re stuck here, frozen under his gaze, as if time has both stretched and shrunk all at once. The very thing you feared was happening𑁋you’re back where it all began.

“You look great,” he says, the words coming out mellow than you expected.

Your heart skips, and you curse at it mentally for betraying you. “Jeonghan, you can’t just𑁋”

“Can’t just what?” he interrupts gently, almost teasingly, and it makes the words die in your throat. His expression holds none of the coldness it used to. No. This is different.

You suck in a deep breath, shaking your head as if trying to clear the fog that’s settling over your mind. You want to tell him to stop looking at you like that, to stop making everything feel so complicated, to stop making your heart flutter yet hide itself away. But the words don’t come out right.

“I… I didn’t come here for you, you know,” You confess weakly, and you hate how easily your voice crumbles.

Jeonghan doesn’t respond right away. His eyes flicker down to the bags in your hands, and then back to you, studying the way you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. There’s a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah?” There’s a faint smirk to his features as he steps closer to you, but not enough to close the distance completely. “Then what are you doing here?”

The cold air nips achingly at the skin of your cheek, your lips pursing into a thin line to keep anything from spilling out.

“I don’t know.”

You’re met with an arch of a brow, an incredulous look plaguing his features. You hate it. You want him to stop looking at you like he has the answer to your thoughts, like he knows more about what you’re going through than you do. But you’ve already dug yourself in a hole𑁋you just lied in front of him, and he knows.

Jeonghan takes another step closer, the distance between the two of you shrinking by a fraction, as if testing the waters. He’s so close now. Too close. You can feel the warmth radiating off his body, the same warmth that once made you feel safe. The same warmth that you ran from when everything fell apart between you.

And you take that chance to run away again.

“I should go,” You let out nimbly, clutching the bags in your hands, turning your back toward him, not before muttering out a quiet, “I’ll… see you around.”

Jeonghan watches as you walk away, and you feel his eyes shoot lasers through you as the distance between the two of you grows.

When he brings his gaze down to the snow-covered pavement, he lightly chuckles under his breath, shaking his head as if he’s caught between a sigh and a laugh. It’s not mocking, though. There’s something softer in it, perhaps heavier, sadder. But of course, you don’t hear it. You’re too far away now.

You don’t dare look back. If you do, you know you’ll fall apart.

Dear 526, Hello. Sorry, it’s been a few days since I’ve opened my mail. Promise me you’ve been keeping warm, or else. Sending my thanks to Google as I write this, literally. Strange times continue, I’m afraid. Let’s just say someone walked back into my life unexpectedly, and now I’m trying to figure out if it’s a blessing or a curse. All the memories came back with them too. A blessing because I haven’t seen them in a long time; a curse because it was simply my fault for screwing up things with them in the first place. I don’t know. Does that make sense? Sorry, I’m rambling. You said you don’t mind long letters, though, so here’s me testing the waters. Anyway, how have you been settling in the city? I can imagine it must be quite daunting. Keep hanging in there, though. - 017

To 017, Funny that you mention memories. They’ve been on my mind a lot too. As for your question, I think I understand. Do you ever wonder why we hold onto certain memories so tightly? Even the painful ones? It’s like a part of you is afraid to let them go because you feel like you’d lose pieces of yourself along with them. It’s complicated. Maybe that’s a little too philosophical for this letter. I guess I’ve been in my head too much. Perhaps the past isn’t as easy to leave behind as we think. Other than that, I hope this person doesn’t cause you too much heartache. I’ll fight them if you need me to. I think I’ve been making peace with the city. Some days are good. Some days are bad. But maybe this is where I’ve always belonged. - 526

Mingyu and Soonyoung are staring at you, the two of them bent down at your level of where you sat at Mingyu’s table, hands laced in each other’s like little girls eagerly anticipating for the next Barbie doll to come out.

You raise an eyebrow at them, and you feel their eyes continue to watch as you raise your chopsticks to grab at the steaming noodles in your bowl. You bring the noodles up to your lips, blowing away the steam for a few moments, and your best friends are still staring at you as if you’ve grown a second head.

Then you huff out a loose breath. “It tastes good.”

The grins that explode on their faces and cheers of celebration that echo across Mingyu’s apartment nearly make you choke on your noodles. Mingyu fist-pumps the air, while Soonyoung jumps up as if he just scored an Olympic gold medal, nearly knocking over his chair in his excitement in the process.

“See, I knew you’d still like it!” Mingyu affirms with a cocky smirk to his face, showing off his little fangs.

“You act as if three years is enough to change my tastebuds,” You mutter as you swallow down another gulp of noodles, shaking your head amusedly at their antics. The warmth of the broth feels comforting against the chill of the evening, but the feeling of being surrounded by your closest friends warms you even more.

“Well, it could. You did live in a whole ass other country for three years,” Soonyoung chimes in, leaning forward with an exaggerated pout. “What if you picked up some weird noodle preferences over there? Like… I don’t know, adding pickles or something. People change, you know.”

Mingyu groans and playfully shoves Soonyoung’s shoulder. “Pickles in noodles? Really, hyung?”

“Hey, it could happen!” Soonyoung protests, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

You roll your eyes but laugh despite yourself. “Relax, you two. I didn’t trade my soul while I was away.”

Mingyu just ruffles your hair with his hand, making a few strands stick annoyingly to your lip, while Soonyoung races away to turn on the television in the living room. Ah, your best friends are still obnoxious as they always are, as they always have been, sticking to your skin like fleas. You have no idea how you’ve managed to deal with them for so long.

Later that evening, the three of you settled on watching for old time’s sake, not before sharing a few bottles or two. Soonyoung, as always, fell asleep somewhere in the middle, and you took it upon yourself to tuck him in a pile of blankets from Mingyu’s closet, as well as volunteering to call an Uber for him because you really don’t trust yourself carrying him home.

Once Soonyoung was tucked away and snoring on the couch, you flop back into the armchair, watching Mingyu as he drinks the last sip from his bottle. His cheeks are slightly flushed from the alcohol, but his eyes are sharp as he studies you.

A beat of silence passes.

“I ran into Jeonghan the other week.”

Mingyu nearly spits out his drink at that, coughing as he scrambles to set the empty bottle down on the coffee table.

“Jeonghan? As in Jeonghan? The Jeonghan that skipped your birthday three years ago?” he chokes out, eyes wide.

The memory hits you like a wave. Your birthday was supposed to be a big day for you, as it is for everyone else. A day where everything felt right. But the entire day leading up to that point felt wrong. You invited your family and your circle of friends, including your boyfriend, Jeonghan. However, even then, your relationship was anything but smooth during that time.

Mornings were met with silent tension and distance; evenings were where the cracks became too hard to ignore. You always tried to brush it all off𑁋the subtle signs that something wasn’t quite right, because you loved him. You hadn’t known how to let go back then, but eventually, you did. It wasn’t easy, but it was necessary.

But Jeonghan never showed up, and it finally broke you. Not for the cake. Not for the family. Not for you. He just… vanished from the celebration you had carefully planned.

“Yeah,” You reply ponderingly, toying with the hem of your sleeve, avoiding Mingyu’s piercing gaze. “That Jeonghan. I can’t exactly avoid him that easy, you know? Seokmin and all of them are still good friends with him.”

Mingyu lifts up a suspicious brow. “So… what happened? Did you talk to him?”

You bite your bottom lip hesitant, giving a loose shrug. “We talked. Briefly. He was just there, you know? But he seems… different. And I’m still... well, me. He still knows me too well. I don’t know what to do with that.” You pause, remembering his eyes, the way he looked at you like no time had passed at all, and your heart tightens. “I don’t know what I expected. I don’t even know why I was there.”

Mingyu lets out a contemplative hum.

“Do you still care about him?”

Your brows crease together in thought, heat coursing through your system as Mingyu’s words float around your head like it was struggling to find a proper place to land. You weren’t expecting to face this again. You thought you were over it all, or at least enough to walk away without a second glance. The simple truth is there is an answer, but an answer that you aren’t sure you’re ready to confront.

“I… I don’t know,” You respond weakly, letting your gaze fall down to the floor. “I shouldn’t be.”

“But you do?”

The silence answers for you.

When the Uber arrives to pick up Soonyoung, you and Mingyu help drag him into the car and watch as the driver struggles to secure him into the back seat. Soonyoung mumbles something incoherent, his limbs flopping around like a ragdoll. Mingyu tips the driver a few extra bills, and you wave goodbye to a half-conscious Soonyoung as the car pulls away from the building.

“I’m gonna head back,” You tell him.

Mingyu just lightly jabs a finger at your forehead. You hardly realise the small headache that was beginning to take form. “Yeah, you go do that. You’re a hot mess.”

You roll your eyes at Mingyu, pushing his finger away, but you can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips. He’s right, though. Maybe you are a little bit of a mess right now.

“Don’t do stupid things!” You hear him yell as you’ve walked about a block away from him, his voice carrying faintly through the night air. You wave back without turning around, a small chuckle escaping your lips. You don’t plan on doing anything stupid. You hope.

You walk past the café on your way home.

You were once convinced that you and Jeonghan had the perfect relationship.

Meeting through mutual friends, hanging out in secret, falling in love in ways that felt effortless and true. It wasn’t rushed or dramatic. It was easy. It felt right. So right. Like the kind of story you’d read about in a romance novel and think, ‘That’s what I want someday’. But someday had its limits, and reality didn’t care about perfect beginnings.

Back then, the café wasn’t just a cafe𑁋it was your café. The one Jeonghan had taken you to on your first real date. The one where he’d laughed at how you ordered hot chocolate instead of coffee, teasing you for your “childish” taste, only to steal a sip and admit he liked it too. The one where you spent countless evenings together, shoulders brushing as he flicked the tip of your nose with whipped cream and your hands interlocked under the table.

Every street corner, every park bench, every late-night convenience store run was marked by a memory you’d shared with him, memories exchanged with shameless promises that one day you’d conquer the world together. And somewhere in your distant mind, you can still hear his precious laughter.

But promises don’t hold when the people making them start to crumble.

Jeonghan lost his job, which worsened his financial struggles to be able to pay for school and the lifelong dreams he had told you during conversations in the middle of the night. Scholarships were dropped, he was having trouble between finding a steady income and taking care of his family, and he simply grew silent.

I just need space and you’re not giving me any, he would say. I’m just going through a ton of shit and need to figure it out on my own.

On the other hand, your life was slowly but surely moving forward. You got accepted into a few prominent graduate schools, some local and some abroad. You were excited about what the future was giving to you, ready to embark in this new chapter of your life, but how could you go forward with that when you didn’t want to leave him behind?

The break-up wasn't overnight. It wasn’t a moment of screaming and door-slamming; it was gradual. A missed text here, a cancelled date there, an unreturned call somewhere. You told yourself it was just a phase. People go through hard times, and this was his.

It was easier to blame yourself, even though deep down you knew it wasn’t just you. You weren’t perfect either; you knew there were times you pushed when you should’ve been patient, times you misunderstood when you should’ve listened. But still, the end of the knife pierced harsher than you anticipated. His absence on your birthday had been the breaking point𑁋not just because of the day itself, but because it confirmed what you’d feared all along: he wasn’t willing to fight for you, for this, anymore.

He needed space. He needed time to figure things out. And you foolishly gave it to him. Too much space, maybe. Too much time. Until he was no longer the same person who had looked at you with the kind of love that made everything else fade.

Maybe that was the problem all along. You never knew when to let go, and Jeonghan never really told you when he was ready to.

Dear 526, Don’t beat yourself up for being in your head too much. In fact, I think I’m starting to like what’s in your head if I haven’t written so already. Was that too forward? I hope it wasn’t. The past certainly isn’t easy to leave behind, especially a past that you regret. I believe that’s where my dilemma is now. I can’t help but wonder if I’m being selfish in wanting some piece of them in my life. Just as friends would be enough. Maybe it’s some form of twisted karma for my mistakes. I guess I’m asking for advice, if it’s not too much. Enough about me though, tell me something about yourself. I’d like to get to know you more. Happy to hear you’ve been making peace with the city. Make sure you’re smiling at least three times a day. Knowing you’re happy makes me happy. - 017

To 017, It wasn’t too forward at all. Reading that was probably my first smile of the day, to be honest. You’ve got a way with words, you know? Maybe this is why I look forward to your letters. As for your dilemma, I understand. It’s easy to believe that if things were just different, everything could go back to what it was. You’re not being selfish for wanting a piece of them, but you have to ask yourself if that piece is worth the heartache. But if you really want to try, make sure it’s for the right reasons. You can’t force someone to be in your life, but I think it’s okay to let them know, or show that you still care, without expecting anything in return. I’m not sure if that’s the best advice, but it’s the truth as I see it. Still, you know them better than me. I wouldn’t say I’m particularly interesting to get to know, but I’ll tell you this: I like to sleep with my fan on, even in the cold. I’m weird. Tell me something about you now. And I’ll be sure to smile three times a day, for you. Maybe I’ll even try for five, just to make sure I’m doing okay. - 526

Jeonghan’s number is still in your phone.

You found it the other night when you were doomscrolling through old messages, for no particular reason. You hadn’t thought about it for so long, not seriously at least, but here you were again, and it’s almost as if his contact had collected dust enough to catch in your eye and bring some heat there.

Back then gave you all the reason for you to block him, or even delete it entirely. But for some reason, you didn’t. You never did.

You don’t do anything𑁋you don’t initiate a text or a call, because that would be incredibly dumb of you to do. Instead, you close off your contacts app, and call it a night.

You’ve made it this far, right? You’re not going to let Jeonghan drag you back into the past. You’re not. But when you close your eyes, it’s almost like you can still feel his presence, the heat from his body, the softness in his words. It’s comforting in a way to think about him, but also painful; a soft ache that doesn’t quite go away.

Days later, you find yourself wandering out of the local bookstore, a place where you used to hide away when you were younger to seek shelter from the city’s noise and study for your high school final exams. A couple of books are sandwiched in between your arms, the cold air hitting your skin the second you step out into the city, making you pull your woven scarf tighter around your neck.

Your steps are slow as you head toward the bus stop, the books in your arms pressing against your chest like some kind of shield. You don’t realise how lost in thought you are until you hear a voice𑁋a cheerful one, in fact.

“Y/N!”

When you whip your head around, you’re met with a stream of familiar faces. There’s Seokmin, a mutual friend of yours that you had met through Soonyoung; there’s Joshua, another boy who you’ve seen mingle within your friend group, and you’ve shared nothing but sweet interactions with; and then… there’s… Jeonghan.

“Seokmin! Hey.” You sift out a gloved hand to wave in his direction.

“Hey! Heard you moved back into the city not that long ago. How’s that going for you?” Seokmin asks, and he still has that familiar cheery voice that could possibly cut through the clouds on a stormy day.

“It’s been good so far,” You reply, managing a polite smile. “Still settling in, but it’s nice to be back. It feels like I never really left.”

Seokmin grins. “That’s great to hear! We’ve missed having you around.”

Your eyes flicker to Joshua, who offers you a kind smile, and then to Jeonghan, who stands a step behind the group. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his coat, and his eyes meet yours for a split second before you force yourself to look away.

“We were just about to grab some warm drinks at the café,” Joshua chimes in, breaking the silence. “Care to join us? It’s freezing out here.”

You hesitate, glancing down at the books in your arms as if they could somehow provide an excuse. But before you can respond, Seokmin chimes in, “Come on, Y/N! It’ll be like old times. Well, kind of.”

You know you should probably decline. It’s the smarter thing to do. But something about the way Jeonghan is standing there, like he’s waiting for you to say something, keeps you rooted in place. Plus, it’s hard to say no to Seokmin.

“I guess I can take a small pit stop,” You say, a hint of reluctance to your voice as you adjust the books in your arms. “But just for a little while. I have some things to get done later.”

“Of course, of course. We won’t keep you for long, don’t worry.” Seokmin gestures for you to follow along, and you do.

Apparently, you’ve learned that Seokmin, Joshua, and Jeonghan all work at the café together, which is a bit of a wholesome fact to know. In Seokmin’s words, working there was a way to “stay close to the people you care about”, as he described it. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his idealistic perspective, even though you knew it was part of what made him Seokmin𑁋always seeing the bright side of things. It’s hard not to smile at how simple yet comforting his reasoning is.

Seokmin makes an immediate beeline towards the front counter with Joshua following right behind him, leaving you and Jeonghan standing together in a brief, lingering silence. It’s almost comical how the world seems to pause for just a second as you both stand there, unsure of how to move forward.

“Y/N.” Hearing him call your name sends a shiver down your spine, though you can’t tell if it’s because of the cold or the sound of his voice. “Your books are about to fall.”

You glance down at your arms, and surprisingly, he’s right𑁋one of the books tilted and threatening to fall down on the floor. However, before you could adjust them yourself, Jeonghan does it for you with ease, his hand brushing against yours as he steadies the books in your grasp. His touch lingers for a few moments longer, before pulling away, and your heart seems to trip on its own feet.

“You’re still a bookworm,” he mentions with a small, almost wistful smile as he watches you adjust the books back into place.

You stiffen at the mention of it, the familiar nickname carrying with it the weight of all the memories you'd tried to bury. Bookworm. My little bookworm. A nickname he would shower on you with such affection.

“Yeah,” You manage to say, the words feeling like a lie as soon as they escape past your lips, even if they aren’t. “I guess some things never change, right?”

Jeonghan hums lowly, crossing his arms together. “Right.”

The way his eyes soften when they meet yours is still the same, that tender look as if you’re the only person in the room, all before it all fell apart with broken promises and misunderstandings.

But you’ve been down this road before, haven’t you? You know how this story ends.

You force a smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and step back slightly, creating a sliver of space between you and Jeonghan.

When Seokmin and Joshua retrieve a tray of drinks, you all trail towards the corner table of the café. And Jeonghan sits in the chair right beside you.

“Y/N! Did Soonyoung and Mingyu tell you about the ski resort?” Seokmin pipes up brightly before taking a sip of his drink, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“They did.” You give a small smile. “Something like a little thing to celebrate the new year? I haven’t skied in ages. There were barely any things to do during winter when I was abroad.”

“Well, you’re in for a treat,” Seokmin continues, clearly excited about the whole idea. “It’ll be a lot of fun! It’s just a little trip to unwind after the holidays. And it’s been way too long since we all hung out like that, so it’ll be fun catching up.”

You nod along, even though your mind isn’t fully there. Your attention is still on Jeonghan, whose quiet presence beside you is somehow louder than the conversation around the table. He’s just… there.

“You used to be pretty good at skiing, Y/N, if I remember right,” Joshua says, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts.

“But that was years ago. I’m practically rubbish now,” You input in with a chuckle, your nose wrinkling with a weak laugh. “I doubt I’ll make it down the slopes without falling on my ass.”

“Don’t worry! We’ll be there to catch you. Probably. No promises,” Seokmin adds with a teasing grin.

A faint laugh leaves you, the warmth of their banter making you feel a little less tense. It’s nice to be around familiar faces who were basically your entire life back then.

“I’ll consider it,” You tell Seokmin with a knowing look.

“Well, we’re taking it as a yes.” The pleased grin on Seokmin's face just widens even more. “You can’t back out now.”

As the evening flows by and conversation goes to more casual topics, you take the opportunity to dismiss yourself for the night. Seokmin and Joshua bid you goodbye with a couple of hugs. The chair squeaks as you push it in, shooting one last polite smile to the group before heading your way out of the café.

“Y/N?”

Instinctively, you clench the books in your arms even tighter. Your heart lurches in your chest. Slowly, you turn around, and Jeonghan’s gaze is intent on you.

“Yeah?” You ask, the word suddenly shrinking around the two of you.

Jeonghan steps up to you, his hands slipping out of his pockets as he gives you a hesitant smile. You freeze up as you watch his hands come up to the scarf around your neck, and before you can react, he gently adjusts it, ensuring it’s more securely wrapped around you. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close to him𑁋so long since you’ve felt his touch, the way his fingers lightly brushed against your neck, so casual yet intimate. Then he brushes away a stray strand of hair that had landed on it, before pulling back to study you.

“There,” he breathes out, the corners of his lip curling into a faint smirk. “Better.”

You lift a brow up. “What are you trying to do, Jeonghan?”

“Nothing,” he answers simply. “Just trying to make sure you don’t freeze to death, as your friend.”

“Friend?”

“As someone who cares about you.” Then he takes a pause, adding in, “As a friend.”

Friend. The word feels both oddly comforting and bittersweet.

You don’t respond immediately, unsure of what to say. His words feel like a subtle invitation to reopen a door you thought you’d closed long ago. But you resist, keeping the distance between you, even though your body betrays you with a sudden warmth creeping up your neck.

“Right. Friend.” You offer him a tight-lipped smile. “I should go. Have a good night, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan opens his mouth like he’s about to say something more, but then he gives you a nod.

“Take care, little bookworm.”

Dear 526, Now I’m imagining you smiling after reading my letters. I could certainly get used to that image in my head now. I followed your advice, and I’d consider it progress in a way, to keep it vaguely. I have a question though: Do you believe in second chances? And you are weird. You’re telling me you don’t freeze while sleeping? I’m an absolute abomination when I’m cold. I need to be covered in layers or else I’ll become a literal icicle. But you’re not weird in a bad way, perhaps in a pretty cute way. Something about me? I don’t like eating candy that much. Take that as you will. Yours truly, - 017

To 017, You don’t even know what I look like. How could you possibly even imagine me smiling? For all you know, my smile could be absolutely horrendous and you wouldn’t even know it. I’m glad you’re making progress. It sounds like you’re trying, and that’s more than a lot of people can say. Progress is progress, no matter how small, right? As for your question, I believe my answer would be… cautiously, yes. It’s tricky though. Second chances can be beautiful if people are willing to grow and learn from their mistakes. But other times, it can open the door to more hurt. It really depends on whether both sides are willing to meet in the middle. What about you? Do you believe in second chances? Not liking candy, though? That’s a red flag if I’ve ever heard one. What’s wrong with a little sugar now and then? You’re missing out, honestly. Chocolate, caramel, gummies? There has to be something, and I’ll get to the bottom of it. You’re stuck with me now. I guess we’re doing complimentary closings now, - 526

017’s hallway is standing right before you.

It’s odd, really𑁋knowing that this mysterious penpal you’ve been exchanging letters for the past month or so is quite literally right below your feet, in arm’s reach if you really consider it. Your heart buzzes at the thought, a faint smile quirking up at your lips as you walk away from the hallway and into the outside world.

You hope that 017 is having a good day, or feeling happy these days, and staying warm especially.

Little do you know, the second you step outside, 017’s door opens, and you’re too far away to notice it.

Visiting the holiday lights festival has always been a tradition within your friend group. The centre of the city is dressed up every year for the Christmas season, painting the snowfall with colourful lights that twinkle in the crisp winter air. It’s one of those moments where time seems to come to a standstill, a sight before the eyes like a scene straight out of those cheesy Hallmark movies.

This year, it’s especially meaningful. Everyone’s grown up, and while the group hasn’t always stayed as close as they used to be (or moreso, you were the one who chose to drift away), there’s a certain comfort in returning to old traditions, even if they’re not exactly the same anymore.

“Y/N, Y/N, look! They put up the giant Santa inflatable again!” Soonyoung exclaims, clutching at your arm and pointing up towards the sky, which stood perhaps a two-story tall Santa Claus standing proudly and illuminated in all its glory.

“That thing’s still here?” You tease playfully, eliciting a cheesy laugh. “Thought they would have retired the old man by now. He deserves a break.”

Soonyoung lightly shoves you in the arm. “You’re heartless.”

As the group meanders within the festival, you find yourself trailing alongside Soonyoung and Mingyu, with Joshua and Seokmin behind, and… Jeonghan there as well, as he always is, but not enough for you. He’s quick to catch your sneaking glances towards him, meeting you with a knowing look and faint smile, and you have to force yourself to look away, ignoring the way your stomach twists slightly.

The holidays are supposed to be a time for joys to be let loose, to celebrate the year ending while anticipating for the next one to come. You can’t help but remember the days as you galloped down the street, grins glowing brighter than the lights themselves as you held hands with the man who used to hold your heart so preciously, so sweetly, so tightly like he never wanted to let go before everything flipped upside down.

Laughter floats around you, the sound of the holiday lights flickering against the night sky, and yet it all feels almost distant𑁋like you’re observing your life from the outside.

The giant Christmas tree is always the grand sight of the festival. Families and couples all gather around it, admiring its dazzling display of lights and ornaments, and capturing the moment in photos. The scents of cinnamon and pine fill the atmosphere, pieces of fallen tinsel scattered around the icy ground, and for a brief moment, you close your eyes, allowing the night to surround you.

“Did you make a wish?”

The voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and you glance up to see Jeonghan coming up beside you, snowflakes settled in his blonde hair. His hands are tucked into his coat pockets, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the Christmas lights. You hadn’t realised you closed your eyes that long, let alone make him wander away from the group to join you.

The truth is, you hadn’t made a wish. You hadn’t thought about it. Hadn’t made any during Christmas when you were abroad. Wishes felt like something you used to believe in, back when things were simpler and life didn’t feel so heavy. Back when Jeonghan’s hand in yours felt like the only wish you’d ever need.

“I didn’t,” You reply nimbly. “Did you?”

Jeonghan smiles faintly, his breath visible in the cold air as he exhales. “I might have. But you’re not supposed to say it out loud, right? Otherwise, it won’t come true.”

You scoff a little at that. “Of course you’d say that.”

His smile grows wider, and there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes, one you know all too well. It’s the kind of look that always meant he had something up his sleeve.

Jeonghan chuckles softly, taking another step toward you, his shoulder brushing against yours. “Guess you’ll never know then.”

You both stand there for a moment, side by side, as the crowd flows freely around you. The world feels a little quieter in that bubble between the two of you. If you listened closely, perhaps, there’s words being said within the unsaid, lingering emotions simmering beneath the surface of the snow that paints the ground.

The cold air nips at your skin, and yet, you don’t move away from Jeonghan, even as the heaviness settles in your chest.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” You suddenly say, breaking the moment.

Jeonghan’s eyes flicker toward you, his expression softening slightly as if he wasn’t entirely sure what you meant. “Do what?”

You chew at your lip.

“Stand here with me,” You murmur, bringing your eyes down to your feet. “Pretend that everything’s okay. Pretend that this𑁋” You gesture vaguely between the two of you, your words faltering as you struggle to voice the truth you’ve been hiding. “𑁋is normal, when it’s not.”

The silence thickens around the two of you. He doesn’t immediately respond, his breaths coming out in mists in the cold air, and for a second, you regret saying it at all.

“I’m not pretending,” he says, his tone gentle. “I’m just here.”

“But you’re𑁋we’re𑁋” A lump forms in your throat. “This isn’t right.”

“So do you expect me to just walk away?”

“I expect you to understand that this𑁋us𑁋doesn’t just go back to how it was before. You can’t just show up and𑁋” You cut yourself off, a frustrated sigh escaping your lips. “You can’t just act like you didn’t abandon me back then, like I didn’t give everything I had and you threw it all away.”

You watch the way his expression rapidly morphs into a million different conflicted shades𑁋surprise, regret, a flicker of pain, something else you can’t quite place𑁋but he doesn’t move away, lips parting as if he’s about to speak, but he doesn’t say anything at first. The sting in your chest feels as raw as it did the day everything fell apart, and the day you left your past behind you by boarding that plane.

“You’re right,” is all he says, quietly. “I hurt you. Back then, I… I thought I did the right thing by𑁋”

“By pushing me away?” You counter back harshly. “You didn’t do the right thing; you did what was easiest for you.”

Jeonghan winces at your words. “I never stopped𑁋”

“Don’t,” You interrupt sharply, shaking your head. “Don’t say you never stopped loving me. Don’t romanticise what you did, Jeonghan. You stopped when it mattered most. And now you’re here, acting like we can just pick up where we left off, as if nothing happened. That’s not fair to me. To you. To us.”

This time, Jeonghan chooses to stay silent, and you do too. The snow continues to fall around the two of you, making you bat your eyelashes rapidly, the heat in your eyes threatening to spill over. You force yourself to bite down on your lower lip to keep from breaking.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Then you look over at Jeonghan, really look at him, and for a split second, you wonder if you could ever forgive him. But right now, you’re tired. Tired of holding it all in, tired of pretending that time could undo the hurt, that this moment could be anything other than a reminder of what you both lost.

You’re a coward, Yoon Jeonghan.

“Hey, guys! Come on, we’re going to take pictures in front of the Christmas tree!” Soonyoung’s voice pops in and shatters the glass you and Jeonghan were standing on.

The two of you turn towards the group, who were all huddled in front of the giant Christmas tree, hands waving excitedly to both of you. There’s a part of you that wants to walk away, to escape from the bittersweetness the world is raining down on you right now, but you don’t have the heart to𑁋your friends deserve to feel happy today.

Jeonghan’s gaze shifts to Soonyoung, his expression unreadable for a moment before he turns back to you. His lips part like he’s going to say something else, but again, words fall short. Instead, he just gives you a quiet nod, and the two of you trail your way toward the group.

But even as you walk, a part of you knows it’s not over. It may never be.

To 017, I’m drunk right now, like can barely-walk-straight kind of shit. I guess I’m writing to you because you’re the one who’s been there. And I don’t know why, but I feel like you understand. Even though we’ve never met, it feels like you do. You ever wonder if you can really fix something that’s broken? Like, can you really put two pieces of glass together and pretend it wasn’t cracked? I don’t think you can. Not really. Even if it’s glued together, you can always see the line. I don’t know if I believe in second chances. I don’t know if I should. But I know that I still care. And that messes with my head. Maybe I’m just holding onto something because it was the best I ever had, even if it wasn’t perfect. Maybe I’m just afraid of being alone. I don’t know. Fuck, my brain hurts. Goodnight, - 526

A small package hits the tip of your toes the second you step out the door.

You stare down at it, mind still foggy, picking it up in your hands to inspect over it carefully. Taking it back inside your apartment, you set it on your kitchen counter, and your head is still pounding as painfully as ever, clearly not thinking straight when you tear it open without thinking that you’re ripping someone else’s package.

Inside, there’s a bag, the contents of it containing a tiny bottle of Ibuprofen, a plastic bowl of instant ramen, and a water bottle, along with a note that had fallen straight to the bottom.

Second chances don’t always look like what we expect. But maybe, sometimes, the cracks are what make something beautiful. Take these for your hangover and count your smiles today. And as always, stay warm. Carry this letter around to bring some luck to your week, if you wish. - 017 P.S. Credits to Google.

You stand there for a moment, staring at the piece of paper in your hands. Your heart pounds a little harder, the fog from your hangover lifting just a bit as the words sink in. The gift is simple, thoughtful, but it’s the note that really gets to you, and you find yourself smiling for the first time this morning.

017, just who exactly are you? You let out a sigh, neatly folding the piece of paper up. And how do you manage to get under my skin so easily?

“Yoon Jeonghan, you’ve been staring at the door like a truck is gonna crash in and kill us.”

Jeonghan chuckles, letting out a groan from how he’s been practically leaning over the counter for an eternity. He wipes his already-clean hands on his apron, clenching and unclenching them, a crack from his knuckles breaking the tenseness he only feels within the cozy walls of the café.

“I’m not staring,” Jeonghan mutters in reply.

“Yeah, and I’m the President of Korea,” Seokmin quips wittily, washing away a dirty mug in the sink. “No wonder you have back problems, hyung.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, straightening up and stretching his arms above his head. “My back’s fine, thanks for the concern.” He tilts his head toward Seokmin with a playful grin. “And for the record, if you were the President, this country would be in serious trouble.”

“Excuse me!” Seokmin exclaims, bringing a hand to his heart as if it was just absolutely crushed. “I’d make a fine President.”

“Ah, whatever you say, Master Lee,” Jeonghan jests teasingly, before returning his gaze towards the door.

Behind him, Joshua is busy stacking clean cups in the corner, before peering up at his fellow co-workers with a sly look.

“You still love them, don’t you?”

Jeonghan feels his body stiffen to the words, and the only thing he could do to cope with it is to simply chuckle, to simply pretend that the question didn’t blow a bullet through his chest, shrug it off like he hasn’t been thinking about you constantly for three fucking years. He’s been convinced that you won’t ever show up back in his life𑁋but here you are, and your presence is constantly punching at his throat.

There’s an almost dreamy lift to his lips as he stares at the door once again.

“Am I really that transparent?” he questions, but more to himself than to Joshua and Seokmin, his fingertips tapping rhythmically against the counter. “It’s childish, right? To desire something that you let slip right through your fingers?”

“Maybe not childish,” Joshua answers firmly. “You’re only human, after all.”

Jeonghan almost wants to laugh at that. When his gaze drifts back to the door, he can imagine you walking through it again, like you had so many times before, with your hand tightly clasped in his.

For three years, he’s been carrying around the guilt and regret of letting you go and pushing you away because he was so afraid of dragging you down with him, when all you’ve done was love him at his best and at his worst. For three years, he’s been wondering what could have been if he hadn’t made the choice to walk away.

For three years, he’s never stopped loving you.

The three of them begin to tend to their closing duties. The snow continues to fall outside, the night beginning its own routine lulling the world into a blanket of peace. Jeonghan continues to wipe down the tables and place the chairs in their proper positions on top of them, yet he keeps glancing at the door.

But he… knows better. He should know better. Things are different now.

“Hyung, you really need to stop doing that,” Seokmin calls out from the sink.

Jeonghan blinks, the weight of his thoughts snapping him back to the present. “What?”

“Staring at the door,” Seokmin continues, chuckling. “It’s not healthy.”

It’s easy for Seokmin to say that, of course. Easy for his friends to worry. He doesn’t have a history with you, doesn’t carry the weight of the unspoken words that still cling to Jeonghan’s chest like an unhealed scar. He doesn’t know how it feels to have everything slip through his fingers, to realise too late that he made the wrong choice.

Jeonghan lets out a sigh and throws away the dirty rag in a trash bin, gathering all the trash bags in one area to throw away later before they leave. Seokmin is preparing three cups of hot coffee to-go since he’s finished with his duties, and Joshua is finishing tidying up the counter.

Seokmin is the first to leave, snatching his coffee on the way out, then Joshua bids his goodbyes for the night. Jeonghan fixes on his thick coat and snatches his keys from his pocket, stepping out into the cold night, not before turning the lights off and locking the door to the café. The neon sign above the door flashes to darkness.

The snow crunches beneath his shoes as he steps back, taking a sip of hot coffee Seokmin had prepared and starting his way home.

“Jeonghan?”

His entire body freezes at that voice, the familiar tone cutting through the stillness of the night. He doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is, but he does anyway. The cup of coffee in his hands suddenly feels colder than the night itself. And even in the falling snow, you still glow beautifully brighter than the streetlamps illuminating the icy roads.

“Y/N?” he calls out to you. “What… What are you doing here?”

You adjust the beanie on your head, wiping off the snow that stuck to it. “Uh, was just… passing by, you know.”

Jeonghan hums at that, faintly smiling at how you pull your coat tighter around yourself. “As always?”

“Yeah.”

You both stand there for a moment, the world around you paused in that quiet, snowy space, as if the universe itself is waiting for something, anything, to happen.

“Are you heading home?” You ask, nearly regretting randomly asking that the second it left your mouth. But Jeonghan only nods, still holding his coffee with both hands, his expression unreadable in the dim streetlight.

“Mhm,” he answers softly, gaze flickering from the cup to you. “It’s been a long day. You?”

“Doing the same.”

The awkwardness lingering in the air is suffocating, but neither of you choose to move𑁋don’t want to move, perhaps.

“Would…” Jeonghan starts, tightening his hold of the cup in his hand. “...you want to walk with me?”

There’s that hesitation again, the kind of feeling that questions whether this thread between the two of you will strengthen or break off like it did before, but there’s something warm in Jeonghan’s presence, like in the way his sleepy eyes are holding yours in that familiar gentleness, in the way he’s waiting for you to answer.

And you decide against the tug at your heartstrings to walk with him.

“Okay,” You breathe out. “Let’s walk.”

It’s natural in the way you both fall into rhythm together, with Jeonghan on the side closest to the street, just like back then where he’d insist to be on that side to follow those drama clichés, and you’d threaten to push him into traffic just to prove a point. And he’d counter you back with a cheesy kiss to the cheek and your hand tightly grasped in his. Now, there’s a bit of distance. But not too much.

The walk is simple, with the occasional crunch of snow beneath your feet and your breath curling into the crisp cold. You both keep a steady pace, not saying much in between, but somehow feeling the years of separation fade, even just for a moment.

“You grew your hair out,” You comment, breaking the silence. “I… noticed when I first came back.”

Jeonghan chuckles softly, running a hand through his now longer, blonde hair. “Seems like I did. Didn’t realise it until I saw my reflection one day.” His voice comes out light. “I think it suits me, though.”

You smile, a small, bittersweet curve of your lips. “It does. It… looks nice.”

“Yeah?” he quips teasingly, the corners of his mouth upturning. “Say that again.”

“No.” You peer down at the ground, at the way your steps are in sync with each other. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

He laughs quietly, that familiar sound that once felt like home. “I’m not trying to get anywhere.”

“Just making conversation?” You question, glancing curiously up at him. His gaze softens, the kind of softness that feels like a warm ember in the cold night.

“Maybe,” he only replies.

This is strange𑁋this night, this moment. How you could go from pushing each other away to being pulled back like a magnet. It’s uncomfortable, but oddly not; worrisome at how natural you fall into rhythm with one another, yet different enough to make your chest tighten.

“Hmm, you haven’t changed,” Jeonghan says. “Still stubborn.”

You shoot him an almost-glare. “And you’re insufferably smug. Some things don’t change, huh?”

“Maybe not,” Jeonghan admits, taking a slow sip of his coffee. “But some things do.”

“Tell me then,” You add in pensively, tone shifting to something serious, almost fragile in the stillness of the night. “Tell me what’s changed and what hasn’t.”

Before Jeonghan could almost his mouth to answer, you feel something warm slip into the pocket of your coat and wrap around your hand, and your eyes nearly widen when you look ahead to realise you nearly walk into something, or someone. A man sidles past the two of you, footsteps careless and staggering as he brushes past you both, grumbling something under his breath that you can’t catch.

When you snap back to reality, your eyes dart to Jeonghan’s hand inside your pocket, and you feel his fingers wrapping gently around yours, your shoulder brushing against his as he pulls you closer to him. The heat from his hand seeps through your coat and spreads throughout your limbs. Your thoughts are telling you to pull away, and your heart is aching for something else entirely.

You listen to the latter.

Jeonghan doesn’t look at you immediately, his hand still enclosed around yours. You feel the way his fingers twitch as if he’s unsure whether to let go or to hold on tighter. He can feel something brush against his skin in your pocket𑁋a piece of paper, or something of the sorts. He doesn’t question it. His breath fogs in the air as he exhales, eyes on the ground for a moment before they finally meet yours, uncertainty flashing across his features.

It’s almost overwhelming, but there’s something in the way your fingers fit together, like they’re supposed to be there. Like they’ve always been meant to.

“Is your question answered?” Jeonghan asks softly, quietly.

And maybe your mind nearly goes haywire at that. Because you don’t want to see him, but you miss him; you’re supposed to hate him, but you long for him all at once. Like candy, sweet yet bitter, cloying yet addictive, something that sticks to your heart and makes you ache with desire and regret all at once.

You think your question is answered.

When you feel his hand release from yours, the piece of paper from your pocket flutters down to the ground. Jeonghan watches closely as you pick the paper up from the snow and shove back into your pocket. He doesn’t say anything about it.

As the two of you reach a particular building, you both stop together.

“This is my stop,” Jeonghan tells you.

You gaze up at the building, before casting your eyes back to Jeonghan. “You live here?”

“Mhm,” he hums in response. “Why?”

“I…” Your voice trails off as you hesitate, unsure how to finish the thought. “I… I live here too.”

Silence. Absolute silence at that. The thought that knowing Jeonghan could be living even just a singular door down from you sends your thoughts spiraling. Out of all the places in this city, out of every street and apartment complex, it has to be here?

A flicker of surprise runs past his features, his lips parting slightly before curving into a small, almost amused smile. And it nearly makes you give in too.

“Small world, huh?” Jeonghan murmurs, breaking the silence.

“Too small,” You reply, blinking at the building in disbelief and then back to him. A small laugh leaves you.

Jeonghan cocks his head to the side, still continuing to gaze at you. When you catch his eyes, there’s a softness there, like he’s trying to search through your face and rememorise every part of it again. You’re smiling, albeit faint𑁋the type of smile that doesn’t entirely reach your eyes yet still seems to light up your features. The more he thinks about it, it’s quite literally the first smile he’s seen of yours in… years.

“You’re smiling,” he points out.

You zip your mouth up. “No, I’m not. I’m just cold.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Jeonghan muses. “To smile around me.”

When he steps a tad bit closer to you, you feel like you’ll nearly lose your balance as you step back, your heart hammering in your chest. Then Jeonghan stops in his place, letting out a long sigh, and turns his body towards the apartment building.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” he demands lightly. “And stay warm. Smile more too. It looks good on you.”

For some reason, the familiarity of those words send shivers down your spine, but you brush it off quickly.

No, it’s not him, You think to yourself. Right?

You clear your throat. “Yeah… You too.” Then you face the building as well. “Goodnight, Jeonghan.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

Dear 526, Merry Christmas! I hope you’re doing well and staying warm, and counting your smiles as well. Do you have any plans for the holidays? Perhaps attending a Christmas dinner or chilling by the window with a cup of hot chocolate? I don’t have that much, other than a gathering with friends which I’m not sure if I’m exactly looking forward to or not. You’ve mentioned in your last letter that you consider me as someone who understands. I’m very flattered you think of me that way, but I want you to know that I just don’t understand. I care about you. Maybe a bit more than I think. I care about how you’re doing, about the little things that make you happy, the things that make you sad. Sorry. It’s nearly two in the morning as I’m writing this, and I guess I’ve been reflecting on everything we’ve exchanged thus far. Memories, second chances, little details about each other… Let me just be brave and say this: I’ve grown pretty fond of all that. Of you also, too. Anyway, I won’t take up too much of your time. I just wanted to send this out for you to read whenever you get the chance. I hope you’ve been smiling. Even if you don’t always feel like it, I hope you have something that makes you want to. Perhaps we’ll walk down the same hallway sometime? - 017

To 017, Merry Christmas to you as well. I’ve been staying quite warm these days thankfully, snuggled under my duvet as I’m writing this letter. I hope your plans with your friends go well if you go. I have similar plans with mine too. Funny coincidence, don’t you think? But honestly, a cup of hot chocolate by the window is quite irresistible. And about what you said… about being brave. I think you already are. Braver than you might think. You’ve shared parts of yourself with me; I’ve shared parts of myself with you. That takes courage. So here’s me trying to be brave too: Would you like to meet up? I know a good place. - 526

I want to know who you are, 017, You think to yourself as you drop the letter in their mailbox.

A hand planting on the door stops you from fully exiting your apartment building.

You glance up, and Jeonghan is right there𑁋breathing heavily and uneven, as if he had just run two whole miles trying to catch up to you.

“I…” You start, clearing your throat. “Good morning to you?”

A sheepish smile upturns his lips, and he pulls back from his iron grip on the door, fully standing himself right next to you.

“Good morning,” he repeats softly, his somewhat sleepy morning voice reminiscent of the groggy days you used to share together. “Heading somewhere?”

“I was,” You retort back calmly. “Until you stopped me from doing so. You?”

“Opening shift at the dear old café.” Jeonghan chuckles out tiredly, like he’s stayed up until three in the morning tossing and turning in his bed. “Not sure if I want to deal with the world’s caffeine needs at the moment.”

“Yeah. You look horrendous.”

“I didn’t come here to be personally attacked,” Jeonghan says with a mock offense, though his smile is playful, eyes still a little sleepy but soft nonetheless.

The two of you stand there for a few long moments, letting the silence simply stretch between you both. You find yourself glancing at him more than you probably should, tracing the way his blonde hair falls messily over his forehead and sticks up in all sorts of directions, the way his hands are dangling to the sides as if he’s unsure what to do with them.

This time, Jeonghan is the one to clear his throat.

“You could stop by for a quick coffee before you go… wherever you’re going, if you’d like, or anytime today,” he offers, his voice coming out almost timid, hesitant.

Your chest tightens to the invitation, and you divert your eyes away from Jeonghan. You know he’s not pressuring you, not forcing anything. It’s just a suggestion, a simple offer. Even though the two of you are floating between this vast space of being friends and what you once were, you know where it could lead. Your mind races to hold onto the distance, to remind yourself that you’re not quite there yet. Not with him. Not at this moment.

“I… I have plans today. With someone,” You respond lowly, a pang of guilt hitting your chest when the words leave your mouth. It’s almost a half-lie and a half-truth. You are meeting someone today𑁋017.

The decipherable expression on Jeonghan's face shifts into a slow nod of realisation.

“Ah,” he breathes out. The disappointment isn’t difficult to miss. His shoulders sag to the ground. “I see.”

A knot ties itself in your stomach when you see his features falter.

“Jeonghan, I didn’t mean to𑁋” You begin, but Jeonghan interrupts you, the soft smile on his lips still there, though now it looks a little sad.

“No, it’s fine,” he says quietly, running a hand through his hair, his posture slumping a little. “I get it. Another time, then?”

You could only blink, pursing your lips in a thin line. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Take care of yourself, yeah?” Jeonghan nudges your arm lightly with his elbow. “I’ll see you around.”

With that, he dismisses himself out of the building, and you just find yourself standing there, floating. But you can’t stop thinking about Jeonghan. And you can’t stop thinking about 017 either.

Boo’s Sandwiches is the place you recommended to meet up at.

It’s a locally owned place located in the heart of the city. You’ve gone a few times with your friend group because Soonyoung is friends with the owner’s son, and you always considered it as another one of your little hideaways when life got too hectic.

You arrive earlier than expected, nerves twisting in your stomach as you gather up a menu and sit down at a table at the very-most corner of the place. The warm scent of toasted breads fills up your nostrils, the hum of conversation taking place around you as you nervously scan over the menu.

“Hey, Y/N! I heard you were back in the city,” a loud voice rings to your ears, and you pick your head up to see Boo Seungkwan dashing over to you. He leans an arm against the table as you adjust yourself. “Heard you lived abroad for a bit. Like… three years or something?”

“Yeah. Three years,” You reply with a chuckle. “But I moved back just a few months ago actually. Guess the city was really my calling.”

You’ve gotten to know Boo Seungkwan a bit over the years. Captain of the badminton team in college, a brief side hustle of his own podcast on Spotify at some point where he gave way too honest ratings about different music tracks, and a resident gossiper who seems to know what’s happening to everyone and everything. He mingled in and out of your friend group over time, but you like to think you’ve become well-acquainted with him. He has the type of personality that’s easy to be around.

You catch up with him a bit before he bids you an energetic goodbye and has to race back to work. The time passes by rather swiftly as you shoot the occasional glance towards the door, hoping to see the one person who has been hiding behind their veil of anonymity. But even as the snowfall outside blankets the ground and strangers file inside, you don’t catch any sight of who 017 could be.

They could be anyone𑁋from the man standing in line with his dark hair and long coat to the woman in a red scarf sitting at the window unwrapping her sandwich. Anyone could be the individual you’ve been exchanging these letters with, and yet, none of those options seem to align at all.

Your shoulders fully deflate when the time on your phone strikes the next hour.

Somehow you were dumb enough to not ask for 017’s number before agreeing to meet up, only agreeing to the time they wrote to you yesterday in their letter. Now you’re sitting here, feeling like a fool for thinking everything would fall into place.

A cup of hot tea sits barely touched on your table, steam curling lazily into the air. You try to distract yourself from the disappointment, staring at the menu and pretending to care about the choices on the laminated paper in front of you. But your thoughts keep drifting back to the empty seat across from you. Maybe something came up. Maybe 017 didn’t want to show up after all. You don’t know.

There’s a second of hesitation before you finally give in with a defeated sigh and stand up, leaving a tip on the table right next to your cup of tea. You say a rushed farewell to Seungkwan who scrambles with a tray in his hands when you’re already out the door.

And just as you’re more than halfway across the street, your back turned toward the scene behind you, the door to the sandwich shop chimes open.

Seungkwan lifts his head to greet the customer, but when he catches sight of the figure, all he can do is give an unpleasant roll of his eyes when he puts the puzzle pieces together.

“You’re late, mystery boy,” he says to the figure, who appears breathless from running.

Jeonghan swallows a lump in his throat, immediately shooting his eyes around the place and outside the windows. 526 had already left.

“Fuck,” he curses to himself, before hurrying out the door once more.

You find yourself jerking awake when Soonyoung’s head lands on your shoulder, his body almost crushing yours against the passenger door. When the car hits a random bump on the road, Soonyoung jumps up with an annoyed whine.

“Can you be any more reckless?” Soonyoung groans rubbing his eyes and adjusting his seatbelt as he glares at Mingyu through the rear-view mirror. “If we die, it’s all because of you.”

Mingyu just chuckles, not even to take his eyes off the road. “Relax, hyung. I’d be rich for the amount of times I’ve driven your ass everywhere.”

Soonyoung pouts dramatically and lays his head back down on your shoulder. You definitely cannot fall back to sleep now.

As the ski resort begins to come into view, you gaze out the window, catching sight of the snow-covered trees and the scenic mountainous view. The ski resort is still a little way off, but it’s big enough that you can already spot a few bright buildings in the distance. Mingyu turns the wheel smoothly, leading you all into the parking lot.

You see people carrying their own ski and snowboarding gear as they head inside the resort. When Mingyu parks the car, all three of you crawl out to retrieve your belongings from the trunk.

“Seokmin and them should be coming, right?” Soonyoung asks while heaving a large duffle bag over his shoulder, eyes scanning the area as he stretches his arms out to shake off the sleep.

“Yeah, they said they’re about twenty minutes behind us,” Mingyu responds, tossing a backpack over one shoulder and adjusting his gloves. “We can check in first and meet them at the lodge later.”

You tug your scarf tighter around yourself, your breath misting up in the cold winter air. It’s been years since you’ve had a proper trip like this, and seeing all the families and people around you hits with a shot of nostalgia. You really aren’t sure about your skiing skills after so long, but it wouldn’t hurt to try at all.

The three of you enter into the lobby, a large, fancy-looking chandelier illuminating the vast space warmly. You shake off the snow that had been caught on your clothes and glance around the reception area. The resort has a cozy yet elegant charm, with its wood-paneled walls, plush armchairs, and the faint smell of hot cocoa wafting through the air. Guests are scattered across the lobby𑁋some checking in at the front desk, others lounging near the fireplace, sipping drinks and chatting quietly.

“Let’s get our room keys!” Soonyoung grins, already making a beeline toward the front desk like he’s on a mission. “Shotgun the bed closest to the heater!”

“Unfair,” Mingyu huffs, rolling his eyes as he trails after him, leaving you to smile softly at their antics.

You find out that the rooms you’re staying in require two people, and it already seems like Mingyu and Soonyoung have already chosen to stay in the same one together…

Seokmin, Joshua, and Jeonghan arrive about half an hour later, the cold air ushering them in as they clamber into the lobby with bags all in their grasp. Joshua greets everyone with a warm smile, his hands tucked deep into his pockets, while Seokmin immediately bounds over to Soonyoung with an enthusiastic hug that nearly sends them both toppling over onto the ground.

You don’t miss the way Jeonghan’s eyes flicker toward you for just a second longer than they probably should when he approaches.

“So, two people per room. Joshua and Seokmin, are you guys rooming together?” Mingyu asks.

“Yeah. We are.” Seokmin says brightly, lounging an arm around Joshua’s shoulders.

“Okay. So that just leaves…”

Jeonghan steps up next to you, his arms crossed together. “Guess we’re rooming together.”

Your head snaps up to look at him, surprise written all over your face. “Wait, what?”

“They paired us up,” Jeonghan shrugs, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his expression. “Seokmin and Joshua are together, and someone has to deal with Soonyoung. That leaves us.”

There’s a twist to your gut at his words𑁋you and Jeonghan… in the same room? The last time you shared a room with him was when you were both still together, and all those memories of being tangled up in the same bed with him comes rushing to your head. You feel yourself hesitate for a moment, shooting daggers at your friends in protest, but none of them seem fazed at all.

“Okay,” You finally mutter under your breath. “Let’s go then.”

The room itself is quite cozy. There’s a large window that overlooks the snowy view outside, and a wooden stand where a medium-sized TV stood. The warmth from the heater settles around you as you drop your bags, and your jaw drops straight through the floor.

There’s only one bed.

“You can take the side by the heater,” Jeonghan tells you as he plants his bags right next to yours.

You shake your head at that. “No, you can take it. You get cold easily.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow at you, then a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, because of course you still remember everything about him. He brushes past you and sits down at the edge of the bed with the heater next to him, stretching out his legs with a contented sigh. You swallow the lump forming in your throat as you start unpacking your things.

It’s frustrating how easy it is for him to just breathe and slip under your skin, how his presence fills the room so naturally and effortlessly.

“Y/N,” Jeonghan calls out from the bed. “You don’t have to avoid me, you know.”

“I’m not,” You mutter flatly. After all, this trip was only for a couple of nights, you’ve dealt with much worse. “Let’s just make it through this weekend.”

When the two of you finish unpacking, a knock at your door startles. Soonyoung pokes his head through the crack and peers at the two of you.

“We’re about to get dinner downstairs,” he announces to the both of you. “Y’all wanna come?”

You shift your eyes towards Jeonghan, who only gives a nonchalant shrug, already standing up from the bed. Then you turn your head back to Soonyoung.

“Yeah, we’re coming.”

There’s a lot of people at the slopes by the time the group gathers near the rentals. Soonyoung is the first to retrieve a pair and quickly put on his gear, a skip in his step as he waits for the rest of you to finish.

“Guys, hurry up! Anyone want to hit the black diamond with me?”

Soonyoung is met with ten eyes glaring back at him, all shaking their heads in unison.

“I… I think I’d rather save my head, thank you,” Mingyu proses while stuffing his hands in a pair of gloves.

After putting on some protective gear for the cold weather, you place your head into a helmet, making sure the straps are snug at your chin, but you struggle a bit with tightening it. The cold bites at your cheeks, but the layers of your jacket and scarf do their job keeping the rest of you warm. Your fingers fumble a little as you secure your gloves, and when you glance up for a moment, you notice Jeonghan coming right up to you.

Then he comes down to your level, reaching out to adjust the straps on your helmet. His gloved hands briefly brush softly against your jawline, the momentary touch sending a jump to your stomach.

You huff out a breath. “Jeonghan𑁋”

“Shh,” he shushes you reassuringly. “Just… let me.”

Concentration is etched into his features as he adjusts the strap, then a click echoes in your ears.

Jeonghan steps back from you, his eyes still not leaving yours. The space between the two of you seems smaller than it should be.

“Better?” he asks.

“Yeah,” You murmur quietly, hands twitching within your thick gloves. “Thanks.”

The fresh scent of nature fills your lungs as you lunge up the mountain with your gear in hand. You take a moment to adjust to the surroundings, feeling the nerves creep in again. It’s been so long since you’ve skied, and while the equipment feels familiar, you can’t shake the anxiety bubbling in your chest.

The group makes their way toward the beginner slopes first. However, it doesn’t take more than a second for Soonyoung to practically leap off the edge, hollering on the way down. Seokmin follows after him, not as confident but equally enthusiastic. Mingyu stays back, offering a steadying hand to Joshua, who wobbles precariously as he tries to stand upright on his skis.

You’re still standing at the very top, an iron grip on the poles in your hands as you gaze down the mountain. It wasn’t very far down, the pistes itself were wide and not that steep, but your heart still races as though you’re about to dive off a cliff.

“You’re nervous,” Jeonghan’s voice pops in and interrupts your anxious thoughts.

“I’m not,” You lie flatly.

Jeonghan doesn’t buy it. He steps closer, his skis gliding effortlessly on the snow until he’s right beside you.

“Bend your knees a little more,” he instructs you gently. “Make sure your weight is distributed evenly. Relax your body.”

You nearly want to roll your eyes at his unsolicited advice, but the encouraging tone in his voice keeps you from snapping back. Instead, you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. Jeonghan leans slightly forward on his own skis, demonstrating the posture he’s suggesting. His form looks easy and natural, as though skiing is second nature to him.

“Come on,” he coaxes, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

You groan at his tone as you replicate his position, bending your knees slightly and loosening your grip on the ski poles. Leaning forward a bit more, you shoot a glance at Jeonghan, who was only watching you with amusement.

“Now, do what your heart desires right now,” Jeonghan continues. “The path is clear. Trust yourself, and just fly.”

You swallow thickly at that, feeling the cold air fill your lungs. Do what your heart desires.

When you gaze down the slope, it hits you for the first time today that you don’t feel out of place𑁋that you can just let go.

“Jeonghan?”

He faces towards you. “Hmm?”

“I…” Stop messing with my goddamn head. “If I fall, you better not laugh at me.”

Jeonghan just chuckles, slowly trudging his way right to the edge of the slope. And without a second thought, he pushes off first, the last thing you see is a grin splitting his face. You watch as he glides through down the slope effortlessly, carving graceful lines in the snow as he speeds away.

Letting out one last exhale, you push yourself off after him, and your heart races as you struggle to find balance. At first, it’s not perfect𑁋you wobble slightly, and your skis cross for a second𑁋but you manage to regain yourself, nothing but thrill blooming through your chest.

The wind brushes against your face as you begin to pick up speed, wanting to catch up with Jeonghan𑁋to be beside him, to be with him. Whatever tension within your body had begun to disappear; whatever lingering thoughts of unease you’ve had about the past months melt away with the sounds of your skis shooting through the snow; whatever thoughts about Jeonghan that you don’t have the guts to confront are replaced by sheer joy.

Because for the first time in a while, you feel like you can finally breathe. You’re not worried about falling anymore. You’re just following Jeonghan, feeling the distance between you both narrow. The past feels far away now.

You push yourself harder, determined to reach him, your skis carving deeper into the snow with each turn.

When Jeonghan looks over his shoulder and catches sight of you coming up to him, you could only meet his eyes back with a smile. A warm one. The first one in a very long time.

The bottom of the slope starts coming into view and the speed picks up as you race down the final stretch. The excitement pulses through you, the wind whistling past your ears as you find yourself skiing right beside Jeonghan.

But just as you’re nearing the very end, a sudden shift in your balance catches you by surprise. Your skis scrape harshly against the snow, possibly hitting some kind of bump hidden in the ground, and your body starts to tumble forward. The world tilts sharply as you lose grip on one of your poles, and then wham! your body falls forward into the soft snow.

A surprised laugh bursts out from your lips as you lie sprawled out on the ground, blinking up at the blue sky above you, snow falling down around you like confetti. You’re mostly laughing at yourself, the adrenaline still coursing through your body. Snow sticks to your clothes and body as you struggle to sit yourself back up, groaning lightly from the fall.

A minute later, Jeonghan halts to a smooth stop right next to you, peering down at you with a breathless grin.

“You okay?” he asks, extending a gloved hand towards you.

“Does it look like I’m okay?” You murmur out, hesitating for a second at his open hand waiting for you.

You take the leap and grab his hand, letting him pull you up, but the moment you get yourself to stand, your knees cave in beneath you. The world tilts once more as your body falls on top of Jeonghan, the two of you collapsing in the snow together with a soft thud. The chill from the snow seeps even more through your clothes, but there’s also Jeonghan’s warmth too attempting to break in. Neither of you seem to mind.

His arms are wrapped around your waist firmly, your chest pressed awkwardly against his and your limbs tangled together. Even when you attempt to push yourself off him a little so that you aren’t crushing him, he still holds you, and you let him.

Your eyes lock together as you gaze down at him, over his flushed cheeks and strands of hair that have fallen loose from his helmet. Your breaths are unsteady as you both simply just lie together, faces just mere inches away from each other.

Jeonghan’s lips curl up, his eyes briefly falling to a close. His grip around your waist refuses to loosen.

“I’ve missed this.”

His voice is almost too soft for you to hear, yet it’s the only thing you could hear. The world had muted itself just for this moment.

For a moment, everything feels like it used to𑁋like you’re not exes, not two people who let the silence break you apart, but just the two of you again. The two of you who laughed, who loved, who knew each other in a way no one else did.

Your breath hitches at his words, and you open your mouth to say something, anything, but it all dies on your tongue when he opens his eyes back up to look at you. It all becomes overwhelming, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being tugged in two different directions𑁋towards him, and away from him.

Reluctance plagues your movements as you finally push yourself off him, his arms falling to his sides as he watches you brush the snow off your clothes.

“I…” Your voice breaks in an instant, and when you lift your head up to gaze forward, you let out a sigh. “Come on… The others are waiting for us.”

All Jeonghan can do is give a nod, standing back up with you. The two of you head back towards the rest of the group.

Dear 526, I’m so sorry. I really am. We were supposed to meet but the entire day had just gone absolutely wrong, and I ended up being late. I know that it’s a very lame excuse to make, and I don’t expect you to forgive me right away or at all. But just know that everything I’ve written to you has been nothing but the truth. I’ve grown fond of you. I care about you. I always have. And I think I know who you are, 526. And no, I’m not just guessing. I think I’ve known for a while now. It’s like the feeling you get when you hear a song you haven’t listened to in years and it takes you right back to the exact moment you first heard it, or when you walk into a room that feels so familiar and you realise: this is home. I can hear your voice in my mind when I read your letters, and see your smiles in the words you choose. We never really had a proper goodbye, did we? Maybe we’re writing these letters to make sense of the past we left behind. I think you’ve always known too, haven’t you? Maybe I’m wrong. In some way I hope I am. Maybe I’m overthinking this and reading too much into everything. But I can’t help it. And I don’t want to live in a world where I don’t at least try again. However… if you don’t want that, I’ll respect it too. I miss you. I miss us. I’m willing to wait for you. Love, - 017

To 017, I don’t know what to say to you. Or any of this, to be honest. But I think that’s the truth, isn’t it? We never really had a proper goodbye. And maybe we should have. Maybe we needed too. There’s a part of me that hates you. Resents you in a way that makes it hard to breathe sometimes. I hate the way we couldn’t fix it, the way we just let it fall apart. And then there’s another part of me that remembers how we used to be, how easy it was to be together. It’s the part that still thinks about you. You’re right; we never had a real goodbye, and maybe that’s part of the reason why we’re still stuck in this space between what we were and what we’ve become. And now, all I can wonder is𑁋

The sound of the door unlocking makes you scramble to put everything away. The pen in your hand falls onto the table, and you nearly rip the paper you were writing on as you ball the letter into your hands.

“Y/N?” Jeonghan’s voice rings out throughout the room. “I brought some hot cocoa.”

You bite your lip as you watch Jeonghan stroll across the room to place a mug on the nightstand next to your bed, the steam curling up into the thick air. After having most of the day deplete you of your energy, the two of you decided to head back to your rooms while the others were still outside.

Even then, despite the tiredness, you feel something akin to frustration boiling up within your body, because right now, he’s just so himself𑁋so casual about it all, like the years that separated you both don’t matter.

You stare at the cup for a second, then glance up at him. His face is soft, open, like nothing’s wrong, like you’re not two exes with history so messy it makes you want to scream.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” Your voice cracks, and it’s like all the hurt, all the confusion, all the love that’s been suffocating inside you explodes out in an instant.

Jeonghan freezes in place from your words, his body tensing as you rise from your seat, the crumpled letter still clutched in your hand. Your pulse races faster, heart hammering as everything you’ve held back comes rushing to the surface.

“And… and these damn letters, finding out that it was you all along. Finding out that this stranger I’ve almost entrusted my entire life into is you…” You’re almost yelling now, your fists balled at your sides, nails digging into your skin.

When Jeonghan opens his mouth to speak, you cut him off immediately.

“I’m trying so hard to hate you. To hate everything about you. But dammit, Jeonghan, I can’t!” The hot sting of tears builds in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “Every time you look at me like that, it’s like I forget why I’m supposed to... And I fall for it again. I fall for you again, and it-it’s killing me.”

Your body seems to lose its trust in the tears in your eyelids, and they spill over your walls, streaming down your cheeks like a raging river. Your breathing comes out shaky and uneven, your hands and legs trembling weakly, feeling like the floor below you may collapse at any second. You're not holding anything back anymore. Every word, every feeling, is coming out, and you can’t stop it now.

“I hate you,” You mutter quietly this time, and then take a deep breath, the faintest hint of a curl at your lips despite the tears staining your face. “But God dammit, I still love you.”

Jeonghan remains silent, way longer than you think you can handle. Then when he takes the smallest step towards you, the lights in the room flicker sharply. And before either of you could do anything, the entire resort is plunged into darkness.

You don’t know what to do other than just stand there, with the tears on your face drying against your skin, the silence feeling even heavier than before. Even Jeonghan himself doesn’t move𑁋you don’t hear any sounds of footsteps, or anything𑁋just his own breathing fighting to match with yours.

With the power being out, the air around starts to feel more colder now, and you feel the temperature drop significantly within a few moments. The snow outside seems to be coming down stronger now. Of course this kind of situation had to happen right now.

Then there’s a knock at the door and the sounds of footsteps shuffling. Jeonghan is moving.

“Hey, you guys okay in there?” You hear the familiar sound of Mingyu’s voice from behind the door. “Stupid snow storm knocked out the power in the entire resort. Do you guys need a hot pack? We have one left. And a candle for some light.”

Jeonghan and Mingyu exchange some other words you can hardly hear, before the door closes again. The light from the small candle illuminates Jeonghan’s face as he’s walking back towards you, his footsteps becoming louder and heavier as he approaches.

“You’re freezing,” he murmurs after placing the candle down on the nightstand. “Here.”

Before you can protest, something hot is placed in between your cold hands. The warmth of the hot pack spreads immediately through your fingers, but it doesn't quite reach the cold that’s buried deep within your chest and heart𑁋the cold that only Jeonghan could thaw.

You tighten a grip around the hot pack instinctively, drawing its heat into you. But there’s something else that seems to cover your own hands, aching for the same warmth.

Jeonghan’s fingertips cling to the edges of the hot pack, his grip tightening even more around your hands. You can’t help but stiffen, unable to move away. The silence continues to stretch on in the space between the two of you.

“It… It’s cold, and we shouldn’t stand here.” You feel him inch away, dragging you along with him. “Come on. Get on the bed.”

You don’t have it in you to refuse as Jeonghan gently guides you to the bed, your hands still clutching the hot pack, and the warmth from it seems to be the only thing holding you together right now. Once you sit down at the edge, Jeonghan doesn’t immediately place himself down right next to you, hesitating for a moment. Then the bed dips down with his weight, and the room itself seems to be holding its breath.

Then you feel something drape around your shoulders𑁋the blanket from the bed𑁋and you watch as Jeonghan pulls it around both of you, the heat from his body seeping into yours, just like the warmth from the hot pack.

None of you speak. You don’t need to. The candle on the nightstand flickers softly in the frigid air, casting shadows on the walls of the room. Even with him right beside you, the space still lingers. Every time you shift on your spot, your hand brushes against his, and it’s enough to send your heart into a frenzy of leaps.

“Do… you remember our first winter together?” Jeonghan asks suddenly. You flit your eyes up to him, and he chuckles. “You stuffed like a dozen hot packs in my coat. It was so ridiculous, but you were so worried that I’d get cold.” His voice holds a warmth, a tenderness that almost breaks your heart.

You smile faintly at the memory, remembering that day very well. “Yeah, I do.” You shift slightly, squeezing the hot pack. “I like taking care of you.”

Jeonghan leans his body more towards you, ensuring the blanket is still wrapped around you both. His shoulder brushes against yours. You can’t seem to take your eyes off his face𑁋the softness in his features that are just so uniquely his. In your eyes, you see the man you love, the man you lost, the man who held such a soft heart in his chest. In his eyes, he only sees the person he once adored, the person he still loves, the one he failed to protect.

“I really didn’t deserve you back then, did I?” He laughs dryly at that, and you feel his grip start to loosen slightly around yours.

But you pull him back.

“You did,” You say quietly, before lowering your voice even more. “You still do.”

You see the way your words make him freeze, like he’s trying to search for the real truth in what you just said. His lips part for a moment, as if he was about to say something, but nothing comes out.

“But back then, Jeonghan, you left, and you didn’t even give me the chance to fight for us. Do you… do you know how much that broke me?”

Jeonghan’s head dips slightly, his brows furrowing as he looks down at his lap. The flickering candlelight dances across his face, highlighting the tension in his jaw and the way his lips press together tightly. He lets out a sigh.

“I couldn’t even be the person for myself back then, let alone be the person you needed. So I… pushed myself away.” His eyes drift past you and out towards the window, where it was still dark outside but still snowing heavily. “I didn’t realise how much I needed you until after you left the country.”

You shake your head, the frustration bubbling over again. “You don’t get to decide that for me. You don’t get to choose what I can handle or what I can’t. I loved you, Jeonghan. I still love you. And it kills me that you didn’t trust me enough to let me help you.”

“I didn’t trust myself back then.”

“And… and now?”

“I got help.” He fixes his posture. “I trust myself enough that I know what I want for the rest of my life.”

There’s an ache to your heart at that, an ache that nearly makes you give in right then and there𑁋but you can’t. Not yet, at least.

You gaze at him, and for the first time in a long time, you really see him. Not the man who had hurt you, not the ex who had left you behind without a word, but the Jeonghan who used to hold you in his arms, the one who used to smile at you like you were everything.

“And the letters?” You question. “The letters we sent each other… Did you know that it was me?”

He shakes his head.

“No, I didn’t at first.” A warm smile starts to creep upon his face. “But then we just kept writing to each other, and I felt like I already knew you. Somewhere along the way, I started to hear you in the words. I thought more about it, but I didn’t want to believe it, even if I knew in some stupid fateful way that it was you. So… I just kept writing. Hoping that maybe, you’d feel the same way.”

There’s a low, broken laugh that escapes you, the taste of bittersweet candy hanging at the edge of your tongue. It’s ironic how the two of you could say so much on paper than to each other on paper.

“I hardly thought about how easy it was to open up to a stranger like that. How I could just… pour everything out without that fear of being judged, write all the things I couldn’t say…” You admit softly as you stare at the ground, still clinging to the warmth of the hot pack. “It’s like... I couldn’t face the truth that I missed you so much. But somehow, in those letters, I could. It felt safer to be vulnerable with someone who wasn’t physically there, someone who didn’t know all the messy history between us. It felt easier to pretend you were just a stranger, even if you weren’t one in the end.”

You take a deep breath, picking your eyes up from the floor to look at him again.

“But it was always you, wasn’t it?”

Jeonghan nods slowly, an imperceptible, dreamy look dawning upon his features even in the extremely dim lighting.

“Yeah,” he says lightly. It’s like the final piece to the most complex puzzle in history. “It was always me. 017.”

“I mean, out of all the apartments in the building, your drunk ass just had to send one to me? I wasn’t even properly moved in yet.”

Jeonghan lets out a hearty breath at the memory, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you share a laugh about the absurdity that brought you both back together. A stupid, tiny damn letter.

“Well, you didn’t have to respond, you know,” he comments.

“Okay, well, my bad that curiosity killed the cat,” You retort back teasingly, and the tension in the room starts to ease just a little bit.

Jeonghan shifts beside you, his fingers lightly brushing against yours again, and this time, there's nothing in your head or heart telling you to pull away, to push him away. You can hardly tell if he’s trying to keep his hand warm with the hot pack, or with you instead.

Then the room grows silent again, like all the love and hurt that spilled over had been tangled together, making it difficult to distinguish where one ends and the other begins. And amidst that silence and the whistling of the wind outside, the longing you’ve both buried for so long flickers back to life like the candle on the nightstand.

“I missed you,” Jeonghan whispers, his voice breaking against the quiet. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything.”

Jeonghan knows in his heart that I’m sorry doesn’t solve your problems, hell even the world’s problems. But right now, it’s all you need to hear, and your chest tightens when those words fall from his lips.

And he seriously doesn’t know how your face ended up so close to his in a matter of milliseconds, so close he could possibly simply move forward an inch and kiss you, so close he can feel the warmth of your breath on his lips, catch sight of the faintest smile to your𑁋

Your mouth falls on his before either of you can think, and it burns with the heat of everything you’ve been holding back for so long𑁋anger, love, regret, and yearning𑁋as if you’ve never been apart, and yet, it’s painfully clear how much time has passed. Your hands immediately fall limp on the hot pack as it lands right on your lap, forgotten between you both.

Jeonghan’s hand comes up to gently cradle your neck, his cold thumb brushing against your skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. His lips move hesitantly yet tenderly against yours, as if he’s unsure whether he should let himself have this piece of you again. But the doubt clawing at his chest dissipates when he feels you pull him closer to you, kissing him back almost desperately. It’s like a promise, confession, and apology rolled into one.

You let out a small, shaky breath against his lips, and it’s like oxygen for him𑁋the first real breath he’s taken in years. When he pulls away from you slightly, his warmth still remains.

Among the dimness in the room, Jeonghan innocently smiles at you.

“What?” You ask breathlessly.

Jeonghan just tilts his head, glancing down at your lips and back up to your eyes. You feel the hot pack disappear from your lap.

“Your lips are cold,” he remarks playfully, his voice carrying that all-too familiar tease that makes your heart flutter.

But before you can protest further, the warmth of the hot pack suddenly makes contact with your mouth, causing your eyebrows to shoot up and a muffled gasp to escape from you. You swat at Jeonghan’s arm half-heartedly, but he holds it in place on your lips, your words coming out nothing but a mumble. The corners of his own lips quirk up into his signature, smug grin.

“Stay still,” he teases, attempting to keep your face steady. “Your lips were turning blue. Don’t want you catching frostbite.”

When you finally shove his hand away, the hot pack tumbles back into your lap, your cheeks flushing. Your faces are still mere inches from each other, and you gulp down the lump in your throat.

You bring a hand up to cup his cheek.

“I hate you,” You huff quietly, but the words don’t hold any weight, no bitterness between the letters.

“I know,” is all he replies with.

Then you kiss him again, and the rest of the world fades away like the snap of a finger. There’s no stupid snowstorm, no power outage, no more walking around on eggshells, no tension in the room.

“I love you,” You confess against his lips. It’s never felt so freeing to breathe right now.

At that moment, Jeonghan swears to himself that he will never let you go again.

“I know.” His response causes you to disconnect away from him for a moment, and he just chuckles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I love you too.”

A beam of red briefly flashes in your eyes.

You squeeze your closed eyes shut even more, a raspy groan escaping your lips as you slowly but surely float back into consciousness. The morning sun trickles faintly through the curtains, causing you to stir in your place. However, nothing but warmth quickly envelops like a cocoon around you, and when you blink your eyes open, the first thing you see is Jeonghan’s face.

His arm is draped lazily across your waist; his lips parted sleepily in slumber; his chest rising and falling peacefully. The golden morning light shining into the room makes his hair look brighter, makes him look brighter, like an angel that has descended through the clouds. You can’t help but simply admire the sight of him.

Even as you attempt to wriggle from his grasp, his arm tightens instinctively around you, pulling you back into his chest. His lips move faintly, murmuring something incomprehensible in his sleep, his eyebrows knitting together in a fit of confusion. When his eyes slowly start to flutter open, you could only softly laugh.

“You’re still here,” he mumbles groggily, voice still thick with sleep.

Your heart aches in the best way at that.

“Of course I am.” Where else would I be?

Jeonghan blinks a few more times, adjusting to the world around him. The second his vision clears and he’s greeted with nothing but your presence, a drowsy smile curves upon his lips, and he presses himself even closer to you.

“You’re warm,” he mutters, breath tickling against the skin of your neck. A shiver runs up and down your spine. “Feels nice…”

You stay still for a minute or two, simply basking in the comfortable silence that fills the room. It’s a quiet kind of bliss, the kind you thought you might never feel again. The kind that comes after years of hurt, after so much uncertainty, yet here you are. With him. In his arms. Safe.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes shoot back open dazedly at Jeonghan’s voice. “Hm…?”

“Do you regret it?”

His words linger in the air, making you pause. The only thing you can hear is his breathing, and the pensive look that plagues his features, as if he’s waiting for an answer that might define everything𑁋everything that has led up to this exact moment.

You adjust yourself to face him fully. “Regret what?”

“Letting me back in.”

The room suddenly feels suspended in time, like the world has stopped spinning itself. A knot ties itself in your chest, and the weight of all the hurt, the healing wraps around the two of you. But as you take in the vulnerability in his eyes, the softness in the way he’s here, you realise the truth. Your love has always been his.

“No,” You answer back quietly. “because I never let you go in the first place.”

Jeonghan doesn’t respond immediately, and the silence stretches on. He exhales slowly, his hands running up your back gently, his eyes falling to a close once again. This is real, is all he can think about, all that he continues reassuring himself. You’re real. We’re real.

You’re here.

His lips ghost over your skin as a faint smile tugs at his lips, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“You know,” he begins. “I dreamt about this.”

“About what?”

“This.” His arm tightens around your waist as if to emphasise the point, his grin widening even more. “Waking up next to you. Holding you in my arms where you’ve always belonged.”

You could only roll your eyes, but your heart betrays you. You know that Jeonghan can feel it. “Don’t push it.”

“Too late, angel.”

His laughter sends ripples of love travelling up and down your body, his touch making sparks explode right at his fingertips. The past doesn’t hurt as much, not in this quiet space where you both exist, where the world outside could be burning, and it wouldn’t matter. What matters now are the tomorrows waiting for the two of you, the love that never quite left, and the healing you’ve begun.

Jeonghan presses a soft kiss to the side of your neck, right at the spot beneath your ear, and you let out a contented sigh. He continues to lazily trace his promises on the fabric of your sweater.

“Dear 526,” he mumbles languidly against your skin. “It was always you.”

It's such a simple thing to say, and yet it feels like everything you’ve both been avoiding and yearning for has been said in that one sentence. It was always you. There’s no longer doubt or the ghosts of your pasts coming back to haunt you, but rather with the quiet promise of a future that you never thought you'd have together again.

“To 017,” You start. “It was always you, too.”

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