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yojeongin · 17 days

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I remember everything | j.jh

→burnt-out writer!jaehyun x host f!reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff, summer fling, found home, strangers to lovers to strangers again, missed connection, 80's au

synopsis: jaehyun didn’t think meeting you in that quaint lonesome countryside town would come in between him and writing something hopeful and lively in contrast to all of his gloomy work. in fact it was a blessing to have someone help him navigate the foreign country. yet life always has something up its sleeve no matter how soul crushing.

warning(s): ADULTS ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! mentions/implementations of poor mental health, abusive higher ups, mentions of bad parenting, unprotected sex.

wc: 28.5k+ || soundtrack || ao3

disclaimer: this is purely fictional; in no way am I condoning this behavior, trying to offend anyone, nor is it meant to place such image on the idol, these are ONLY characters. read at your own discretion.

an: summer is gone and I tried posting this for the past 2 months so here is an ode to the place that inspired it all.

The contents of the box had been sitting unwrapped for what felt like an eternity after recalling last week’s events. The miscellaneous items your family sent were a recurring sight but it was rare that Ollie sent you anything besides his letters.

What disturbed you most is his choice of item. Those bold scripted yellow letters mock you. You weren’t upset with him, you could never be upset with him. You know it’s not his doing, that he was put up to it. What upsets you is the resurfacing thoughts you had hid away in the vault of your memory years ago when you remained naive and to your disgrace revived with one detail.

Courage was the last thing in you. It surged through, more so forcibly, perhaps even masochistically. That seems correct because the second you open to the first page, images you believed you would never see, fly out, reminding you of a life that you can only describe as a daydream.

Every single image had something written in the back of it. You attempt to refrain from reading each note. With no avail, the loops of his handwriting draw you in as much as his piercing gaze and the smile you still dream about – those dimples you can’t forget no matter how much you now look at them on someone else.

There’s a folded letter slotted before the dedication page. It smells like him and you can’t help being transported to the summer you met him. The pleasantly strong cologne you could smell even in the masses of stench when cleaning the pen. Or through the window you two sneaked kisses at night.

You don’t want to cry, you truly try not to, yet the waterworks flow when you finally focus on the dedication page of this damned book.

‘To the life I needed all along… I remember everything.’

Jaehyun remembers with fondness the tranquility of what he considers home. The warmth that filled his chest with every waking moment he spent in that beautiful quaint village. And now looking and thinking back at it, that fondness muddles with the pain in his heart. That’s not what he wants nor needs, that’s not what he came here for.

Jaehyun could get behind it, it was nice. He immediately got used to the cool breeze which felt more like a chilly autumn rather than the grueling summer. He could definitely get used to the smell of wood burning from stoves and chimneys that indicated locals began their day. Similar enough to the rough housing from goats and sheep’s bleats to roosters for them to shut up, that the sun was enough of a wake up call.

Fairly loud, not nearly as much as the city. It was one thing to admire the beauty outside of his temporary residence. Bougainvillea vines, flamboyant and bright, purloining his attention to let him know they were the star of the show, overshadowing any other house around.

Jaehyun needed something and all he knew was that he had to escape the constraints of his overpopulated and 24/7 bustling city that has cursed him to hell multiple times for not giving it a heartfelt ovation. How could he when he’s been shown nothing but hatred from it since he stepped foot in that hell hole?

Things should be different here, he knows that – he’s been shown.

His taxi driver spoke idly about his day. Describing the breakfast his wife had made before he left. His daughter had visited to drop off their grandson while she went to work at the local market but in the process the kid had fallen down the steep steps claiming all he wanted as comfort was to spend time with his ‘Tito’. So there he was making rocket sounds and hammering the glove compartment with the pale sun-eaten toy car that caused his fall. In the process, turning back to Jaehyun asking if he liked dishes he had never heard of before that the kid didn’t like himself.

Jaehyun remembers it well.

How can such a beautiful place bring him agony?

He wanted to stray away from those pessimistic feelings that had shackled him for years, tainting every single one of his pieces. When his publisher and manager told him it would be best to go somewhere he’d know nothing about his world, to have time to think about a new story, he was the first one to say goodbye, muttering under his breath that he wished he’d never see them again. Jaehyun was elated to know he was given a golden ticket out.

The past few launches and expectations had been hectic. Drowning him with stress and though many would think being a successful writer at such a young age was all fun and games, they'd think otherwise when your team is hollering in your ear daily to come up with new content and critics claiming you’ve yet again failed to provide anything meaningful besides pretentiousness.

Jaehyun is tired of that dark monotonous and consuming cycle they’re forcing him to be in. So he’s hopeful and excited to see what this beautiful rural village can bring him. Hopeful that it’ll break those shackles of misery that cling to him until his ankles bruise and bleed. Hopeful to find meaning to this life that he’s been searching for.

Struck with awe throughout his entire trajectory down the cobble and dirt-filled path from midtown to the house, the animal noises he had managed to drown became louder upon pushing open the metal door, growing wary. When he finally crossed the threshold he was met with the image of someone tussling with a ram, enough to get tackled and Jaehyun can only explain that feeling as freight.

That was the first time he met you.

From far away and with his feet grounded in fear, the fear you didn’t have regardless of all those rammings. That must’ve hurt, Jaehyun thinks so. How could it not? The beast came in charging three times, each making the impact seem worse. Twisted horns able to bruise the skin of your thighs.

Every step closer increases his shock. Muffled groans and curses from you mixed with laughter from your grandfather that stood and watched. Neither of you blame him, being the victim of that damn thing at 80 had caused irreparable damage to his hip. There’s nothing he could have done. At best he mangles the rope beside the stake, swinging it in hopes of getting it off you.

Jaehyun felt inutile. He had no experience with animals nor with any labor besides what his father would drag him into. It’s not his fault he became a writing prodigy. His brute strength was useless if he was too scared to jump into the pen to help you.

It was more shocking when a scrawny boy in a simple white tee, dusty jeans, heavy work boots just as muddy had pushed through him. Yelling something he couldn’t understand but later found it meant “Get the fuck out the way!” He didn’t mean to be malicious but he was scared himself. Jumping over the pen’s fence and pulling the damned ram off of you, he slaps its rear as a form of discipline. It amazes Jaehyun how effortless he made it look.

Finally free and things having calmed down, Jaehyun saw the elderly man seize his laughter. Genuine tears slip from his eyes. He was scared, truly scared it could have been your end. Having experienced it himself, he couldn’t help both sympathize and feel guilty. You and the kid reassured him it was fine. It wasn’t a first but your grandpa wouldn’t hear it, sighing as he continued to sob.

Jaehyun later found that he was insanely sensible. Laughing things off to calm himself to eventually break down.

In attempts to ease his pain, you had sent the young boy to fetch your grandpa a coke and some bread.

Nowadays, Jaehyun consumes those items whenever he grows scared

Making your way with a limp that your grandfather mimicked due to his own attack and age, Jaehyun finally approaches you both, voice slightly quivering.

“Are you alright?!” Jaehyun quips, your head turns to him un-amusedly. Cautious but relaxed for whoever’s sake. “Yeah… it’s not the first time.” You try to smile at the stranger who is obviously not from the village inside the premise of your grandparent’s home. It only dawned upon you who he was when you noticed the pristine suitcases in his hands. Holding the handles like a lost victorian count in search of a new start in the bustling dirty city – despite the contrast.

“You’re the new tenant, right?” You ask, limp finally gone after something cracked. Jaehyun winces, amused with the nonchalant tone in your voice; he nods fervently. “Yeah, um, I can pay for a few months up front if you don’t mind.” Neither of you had noticed that both had stopped walking, your grandpa already in the house, leaving you to speak with the young and attractive man before you.

“Months?”

Jaehyun nods. “If you don’t mind or have another tenant.” He feels sheepish; confident in your eyes. “Don’t worry, it’s been open for months.”

It’s amazing to him how you’re acting like you didn’t almost need a ride to the nearest hospital. Seeing the limp gone and crouching down to pick up a bucket full of dry corn kernels like nothing. He could have believed everything he saw didn’t really happen.

It’s recurring if he thinks back to it, how everything felt so fleeting and surreal. He despises and feels it mocking him daily.

Following you around like a lost puppy while you sprinkled the ground with those kernels, he took note of the expression on your face. You’re still in pain, it’s written all over the movements you make. He rules you’re ignoring it to not seem ill before him or specifically to reassure your grandfather.

Jaehyun has a strong image in your eyes. It would crumble with just about anything and you felt comfortable figuring that out. Just like it has done now, with chickens rushing and flooding the area to gobble down their meal. Jaehyun was startled and scared they’d peck him in the process.

You try not to laugh despite the giggles leaving in spurts. Nearing the kitchen door, you stop in your tracks to look at him. “Don't worry about the pay, it won't be necessary.” It troubles him and this time he won’t hold his thoughts. Well, he wasn’t going to but as soon as his lips parted, the sprint door opened, showing a much shorter and pudgier older woman. He reckons that’s your grandmother so he smiles and greets her accordingly.

She accepts it, returning the favor before going back to business in handing you the bowl full of pepper seeds and stems to feed the chickens. That left him and your grandmother alone, inviting him to the kitchen.

He studied the kitchen upon crossing the threshold, admiring the huge chimney in the right corner, soot covered it along the boiling metal bucket of water. There was a chair in front of it, one of those school chairs that cling onto your hair until it’s off your scalp.

A metal cabinet in between the entrance door and the hallway. It’s dusty, showcasing fine china that was never used. He found the cracks above the very tall ceilings the most enchanting, all leading to portraits above the hallway’s threshold. Trajectory and lineage demonstrated through the years. Most recently: one of you with your diploma.

Beautiful. Utterly beautiful, he thought.

“Come, I’ll show you around.”

The tour was simple, the hallway that connected the main room and kitchen was a room in itself. Privacy wasn’t really an option within these walls but it didn’t matter, he wasn’t the one sleeping in the main house.

All he had to know about this house was that it was an old canteen that your grandmother’s father bought for her as a wedding gift. The hallway had a bed your grandfather slept on, a couch he sat to watch the TV propped on top of a dresser in the main room –where he’d join him often– and a door that led to the guest’s area.

Despite the open concept, she didn’t show him the room where you and her slept in. He caught a glimpse of a door to the only restroom in there –restroom with a window he would spend his nights at often–, a vanity you both filled with expired products, and two beds on opposite sides. He figures the one with a pristine Garfield plush was yours.

Jaehyun felt the clarity of finding home within these few minutes. It was summer and the house was freezing without a clunky AC unit, he was in heaven if you asked him. It felt cozy and he liked that it wasn’t stuffy like his apartment back home, it felt like love. Cold, unspoken care and love.

The tour ended by the time both reached the guest area. The door was open after you swept but things never lasted clean here, the entrance full of dust again. Your grandmother looked tired and apologetic that she couldn’t continue, reassuring him his room was fine, warranting her to yell your name and rushing to her side.

She asks you to show him, motioning for him to follow you with your head. It felt like a full circle when you both hopped down the step from the house to the courtyard. He looked at the threshold he entered through, the door was closed now, decorated with flowers made out of dust, crafted by Ollie when he had free time. Your grandfather sat on a chair near the pen with the young man, eating his bread and smoking a cigarette that he pretends to hide.

Following you, Jaehyun took notice of the mountain of rocks and flowers near his room. A monument to a holy being he had only seen a few times. It was beautiful, vibrant flowers in comparison to the rocks. Some cactus and critters roam on small trinkets and a river flows up and down each rock.

Jaehyun finds himself behind a wall of jacarandas which cover the entrance to his room. The door unlocks with a screech, Jaehyun, hopeful it was just as inviting as the home only to be shortly disappointed when it felt warm inside and the walls maintained a darker hue. It was newly made, it lacks love.

Sensing his hesitance, your voice aims to distract him. “It’s not much, the bed is new if you must know. My uncle should bring in the TV but in the meantime you have free reign to the boombox or the kitchen’s.” Apologetic smile decorating your face. “You can open the window if it gets hot, Ollie is fixing up the fan. Feel free to go into the house, we don’t mind.” You hope that will help his decision, you’d hate to see him leave.

He wants to thank you with the words stuck in his throat, something you noticed well enough that intensified the feeling that clogged your own. “Um, yeah… New bed, the lamp and main light work, window opens, and you have your own personal bathroom. Unfortunately, the boiler is still very old fashioned so you will have to warm it or boil some water in the chimney to shower.” You hope that repeating yourself will convince him, restraining yourself from begging.

It has its flaws but he has decided not to care. “I’ll take it. It’s still $130 for the month, right?” He smiles boyishly, putting down his suitcases. It gives you a sense of tenderness and relief. You want to sigh and smile, giggle with appreciation. “Don’t worry about that, the room is yours.” You hand him the key, that’s the best you can manage.

His lip slightly juts out and eyebrows furrow with your words. “What do you mean by that? Please, I insist.” He turns to you, taking a step closer, forcing you to bite the inside of your lower lip. “I can double it if you prefer.” He pleads, head tilting to the side with wide eyes. It’s not intentional, he’s unaware of the effects he has on people. He’s scared you’re tricking him to not keep the room, to give it to someone else. Almost like you aren’t finding his presence enjoyable. If only he knew how much you would love for him to stay.

“It’s not that, trust me.” You walk towards the door, avoidingly. “It’s nice to not be alone. To have someone else around.” Your eyes don’t meet his, he understands. Letting it go, he thanks you in a whisper. “By any chance can I use your phone?” He asks in attempts to change the atmosphere.

Apologies fill your eyes like previous conversations. “It’s off until Monday.” It’s Wednesday.

“There’s a little store a block or two from here, not far at all. You can leave from either side, it’s flamboyantly yellow so you won’t miss it.” His excursion to find this place alone will say otherwise. “The name is painted on with neon green, ‘Gaby’s’ it’s called.” You laugh, looking at the expression on his face. He thanks you and follows behind the exit of the room, parting ways.

Despite the rundown homes and slight deterioration here and there, Jaehyun liked the tranquility and uncertainty in pertinence to the weather. One second he is granted with the warmth of vitamin D, the other he is threatened with the smell of wet dogs. This town had it all, yet none of it interfered with the breeze that calmed him as his hair waltzed around, singing in his ear that he was in the right hands, finally at ease.

You were right about not missing the store. He can laugh now – he did when taking the final corner, being met with what he felt was covered in buckets of highlighter ink. It was almost comical how opposite the owner was from her lively store and home.

“Good morning.” He mutters, “What are your rates for long distance calls?” She looks at him, pulling out a booklet from the phone company, arms working like it’s a chore.

“How far?” “Overseas.”

She looks at him through lashes, sighing, flipping another page.

“$3.56 per minute.”

Jaehyun’s eyes bulge out, nodding frighteningly. The process goes accordingly: she hands him the phone, writes down his name and the location before looking at him to dial on that old dinky home phone. The wires are sticky from tape residue with some edges popping out. It was her mother’s from 1957 but she loves it more than her third born.

He rotates the wheel, hanging up one or three times until he finally gets it. When the other line finally picks up, she starts a timer. “It’ll be quick.” He mentions. “Take your time.” She smiles.

“Hello? Hellooo~.” The voice on the other line calls out, ready to hang up, a pair of blondes far more important than this are waiting for him. “Hyunjoo?” Jaehyun asks, hand clasping the bottom of the phone. “Yeah? Who is this?” His words sound slurred, not enough to call him drunk.

“It’s Jaehyun.”

An eruption of laughter and greetings is heard in the background, smiling at how welcoming it felt, although strange. “Jaehyunie! How are you finding it there? Fun?… You know when Jude showed me the pictures I thought you were crazy for choosing that… place! Do you think you can hold out long?!” He laughs diminishingly, Jaehyun’s smile falters, his heart aching as it usually does when it comes to Hyunjoo.

He clears his throat, standing straight. “It’s great, I really like it so far and I’ve only seen the house.” He musters a laugh. “Listen, long-distance calls are expensive so I think we should only communicate through letters, okay? I just wanted to call to let you know I was fine.” He’s ready to end the conversation here. It didn’t start how he wanted it and a reminder of his actuality is not what he wants.

“No… no, now wait a minute!” It wasn’t Hyunjoo on the line anymore but Jude, his manager who was far more sober than his publisher. Some tussling and grunting here and there on the other line, Jaehyun sighs looking at how quickly he was pushing three minutes already.

Eventually Jude got through, scolding the drunkard. “Now what do you mean you won’t call? Don’t be dumb, I need to hear from you!” He bites onto his cigarette, scolding Jaehyun like a small kid, like the child he pretends is his. “It’s too much, Jude. Plus, the house doesn’t have a phone right now so you can’t reach me.” His foot bounces, scoffing like a petulant child proclaiming independence from their family.

Jude went on a tirade about how it wasn’t good for Jaehyun to go cold on them but the younger one wasn’t hearing it. The entire premise of this trip was to forget about them all so why won’t they let him? “Okay too much time, too much money, bye!” Jaehyun cuts the conversation short, giggling as the yelling got louder. Seizing when the timer hits six minutes and thirty-seven seconds.

“$24.92.” A wide smile decorates the owner’s rotund face, sticking her hand out. Nothing left but to sigh and hand her the money.

Jaehyun takes this opportunity to explore the village, mesmerized by the intricacies of carved ornate decorations onto walls and doors. In awe with the obvious distinctions between newly built homes and colonial ones he found far more attractive. Architecture was not his only interest, not when the mocking tango of scent swirls drag him to the plaza. Taunting him with delectable treats and meals at every corner and hall.

If he wanted to fall further in love, then the market currently taking place should do. Colorful carps and music from corner to corner, swaying him through the fabric made halls. Jingles of welcomings and hollering flood the ears of every passerby. Whether he wanted fresh produce, flavored shaved ice, fruit cocktails, clothes, or even toys, Jaehyun could find it all. It reminded him of the swap meet he encountered with his friends once when living in Connecticut years ago. This was surely far more inviting and lively.

Through his trail around the halls, Jaehyun came to a halt upon seeing you standing before your grandfather on the bench your grandmother’s family had donated. Worry filled your face but the older man’s laughter was far more deafening and comforting. An internal warmth forces your head to turn, spotting him immediately for your eyes to meet.

“Need help?” Jaehyun offers embarrassedly, you deny. Your grandfather is receptive despite your light scolding. “It’s fine, really.” You try but both men insist. “Do you know how to repair cars?” Your grandfather asks, Jaehyun shakes his head apologetically, all which prompts your grandpa to huff and shake his own head.

“The car broke down.” He’s met with another of your apologetic smiles, as if he’s the one being wronged and not you and your grandfather. “I’m just going to finish off the shopping, mind giving him an eye?” You ask Jaehyun, the first favor to be exact and he couldn't be more elated to not feel useless.

It’s shut down by the older of the three, complaining and almost throwing a tantrum over how he didn’t need a babysitter. It wasn’t completely wrong, the entire village knew him so watchful eyes were all around, it’s not like you couldn’t trust him to be on his own. “No, no. Matter of fact, help her with the bags. Go on, look at how heavy they are.” He scolds Jaehyun, throwing away any unfamiliarity out the window. That’s one thing about him, he’s too trusting.

Like a child in between parents having an argument, Jaehyun didn’t know who to listen to. Fortunately you give up and sigh, motioning with your head for him to follow you. He took a handful of bags from your hand, some left in the care of your grandfather that was well situated on the bench.

He gave you both his blessing, shooing you off to embark in an awkwardly silent walk with nothing but the blaring music vendors played to fill that emptiness. He had so much he wanted to ask, to say, to know what you could teach him about the village or if you knew how he could travel to neighboring ones. He was giddish and that’s all that took for you to turn to him with a smile.

“Quite a bad host, aren’t I? I didn’t even introduce myself.” You giggle, stopping at a stand. “It’s okay, I didn’t either, I’m sorry. I’m Jaehyun.”

“Y/n,” You give him a quick glance, taking a bag from a vendor. “What are you doing here, anyways? No one comes here for pleasure.” Jaehyun could tell more words hung on the tip of your tongue, ones you swallow down. He didn’t know how to answer. If someone else asked him, he’d mention how he wanted some inspiration, to see what he could bring into fruition but with you his sincere words threatened to spill.

How could he mutter: “I think I hate my life and those in it, so my manager and publisher shipped me off somewhere I’d be far from that world. I think they just wanted to get rid of me but it’s what I wanted all along…”

“Oh?”

Shit. Just like that.

“I-I… I didn’t mean to say that.” He scolds himself. This had never happened before, what the hell was that?! Your laughter doesn’t help and he’s scared you’re laughing at his problems. He doesn’t want to believe someone like you could be this cruel.

“It’s okay.”

That’s not reassuring. “It’s okay. I hated where I was a year ago too, so I was also shipped here.” That’s comforting– somewhat.

Your shoulders shimmy as you pay for the produce, walking towards another stand. “Granted, my aunt got sick. She was my grandparents' caretaker but it was getting worse and I took the role.” From the depths of your pocket, you pull out some pumpkin seeds, handing him a few for him to crack, not counting with the coating of salt to scald his tongue.

“She comes back here and there to check in and help but eventually she has to go back for constant checkups. I hadn’t found a job right out of college so this was my next best option and I like it – far more so, I think.” A sincere smile adorns your face; this was comforting.

Things went far more smoothly after that introduction. He told you about his books and what he wanted to do here. He told you about how miserable he felt and how abusive the city seemed to be towards him. You told him that you missed your city but the reality of facing adulthood in the area was weighing down on you. He figured this was your reality escape and although grim on your end, he felt ecstatic for himself. He felt like he finally found exactly what he needed.

The conversation went well with a few laughs here and there until reaching full circle with cups of shaved ice in a bag to take home and yours in hand. Bliss was momentarily gone when you reached the bench and didn’t spot your grandfather. Regardless, it didn’t take long for a seller to let you know his nephew gave him a ride.

These instances made Jaehyun appreciate your gentleness for your grandparents. Although aware of how you try to hide your emotions from him, the guard falls when it comes to them. It’s admirable.

Noise didn’t break the bubble of silence you remained in until entering the kitchen where your grandfather was sitting at a table already, your grandmother making his coffee while Ollie tired and sweaty relaxed by the door, munching on a candybar he bought when getting the fright remedy. A token of appreciation from your grandfather for the cigarette.

“We didn’t see you, I almost had a heart attack.” You mock reprimand, a smile setting on your face seeing the older man safe and sound. No matter how hard you try to act angry, seeing him eat the rest of his bread while waiting for lunch calms you down. “I’m the old one here, save the ailments for another sixty years.” he cackles, Jaehyun beginning to find comfort in your grandfather’s ability to find humor in anything.

“I think our guest might want out already.” He teases, sneaking a piece from Ollie’s candy. The boy doesn’t protest, doing the same with the shaved ice you brought. Jaehyun felt his ears warm up, nervously denying it with no avail as your grandpa kept insisting with that same laugh. Dying when your grandma scolds him to leave Jaehyun alone.

Jaehyun giggles quietly, shaking his head. “Please believe me. I think it’s beautiful so far.” Your grandma hums, the one to speak is Ollie. “There’s nothing here. What’s beautiful about it?” He shrugs with a scowl. “He hasn’t seen the other towns, give it time, Ol.” You intervene, forcing him to taste test the rice.

“Well, what if you and Ollie, whenever he can, show…”

“Jaehyun.” You help your grandmother, playfully glaring at the young boy for feedback on the dish. The elderly give each other a quick glance while Ollie makes a mocking thumbs down when he knows the smile on his face says otherwise.

She nods, scooping a spoonful of lard into the pan. “Why don’t you and Ollie show Jaehyun around after your duties. I doubt he wants to stay all hours here.” Jaehyun doesn’t know how to feel. He’s embarrassed, he’s also bashful and feels imposing. “It’s okay, I can manage. I don’t want to overstep.” He nervously chuckles, ears brightening.

“Okay.” You shut him up. He turns to you, silence deafening yet comforting, even when you finally lift your head to look at him, nodding. “It’s okay, just let us know what you want to see.” You’re much calmer than he is, it causes his body to tense despite being thankful with how inviting you are. How inviting you all are, he thinks he can see himself here for longer.

“Thank you.” He meets your eyes with a smile, thankful and glad. It’s reciprocated, knocking down the nonchalant act.

The first outings don’t go past the premises of the village. With planting being the main priority, neither you or Ollie have time to take him anywhere. The younger spent his days working the tractor, taking your grandfather up and down as his mentor despite his own father being there.

Jaehyun tried to help once but was booted by both men and their laughter. He won’t fault them, he almost ruined a row of freshly planted beans and if he was to learn anything throughout this trip, he’d learn that any grain and imperfection was important enough to ruin the entire harvest. Instead he was left to pavement clearing, making sure no rocks or debris got in the way of vehicles.

The following week he had been left to his vices at home. You had apologetically told him they found assistance and he should enjoy his trip at home. Although there was nothing left to do, not for him at least. Your grandmother wouldn’t let him lift a finger in the kitchen and she didn’t like his cleaning style, leaving it to you if she was busy.

Ollie had fixed the fan by now. The new motor made the room freeze, mimicking the room temperature of the home. Cold enough that Jaehyun preferred to leave the window open despite the crawlers that woke him at night. Now he contemplates whether he should turn the fan on or sleep with cotton filled eardrums.

Jaehyun lays in bed, bored and antsy for something to do. The sound of your arguing with animals overpower the boombox next to his head, melodies he didn’t understand.

The fountain pen on his hand never felt far heavier, a sign that he had nothing new to produce. No, the only thing his hand mustered to write was the noises you made. Whatever pertains to you.

“Tutt-tutt.” “Cluth-cluth… No, Constance! Don’t peck me!” “Behhh, behhh! Here, what a cry baby.”

Jaehyun found joy through you and your acts of love.

“Meow, meow, meow! I can do that too! I already fed you, Fina! Gluttony is a sin, you know.”

Days went on like this, it’s repetitious but he doesn’t complain. Past times he’d think what he’s doing now was all he wanted but a mind never rests and his body is antsy for new experiences. He no longer wants to lie and feel the breeze rush through the window to coddle him, forcing the sheer white curtains to dance around for his attention.

Jaehyun tucks away his journal, buttoning up his shirt and slipping on the work boots he bought with only four days here. Full of glee and excitement he bought them to help your grandfather. He reckoned if he was going to get down and dirty then he should be dressed accordingly.

With pep to his step, Jaehyun makes a beeline towards the pen. What used to be barking of unfamiliarity turned to a simple bark for attention, received with wagging tails. He made sure to pat their heads until reaching the fence, looking at you conversing with Camila, the donkey.

“Aha and what else did he do?... No! You should’ve kicked him straight in the leg, Cami. He can’t talk to you like that!.” You nod and hum at her playfully, received with brays and nods. Jaehyun doesn’t know what you’re talking about but he’s glad that you’re having fun.

New hay had been brought in the morning, far more greener and fresh which left the old hay to be moved around for maintenance. In the process of such, strays found themselves near the dogs, enough to crunch under his step. Like a deer caught in headlights, Jaehyun stops, ears reddening by the whip of your head and Camila’s blaring bray.

“Hi…” He mutters timidly, cause of your smile. “Hi.” You reciprocate with the softest welcoming. He takes the initiative to approach you, standing a few feet behind. Neither say anything, amused with Camila’s treacherous ways in leaving you to gain his attention. Head bumping onto his hand to mimic the pats he left on the dogs.

Pleased she throws a kick, sending old hay flying towards the lambs and goats that reproach her action. You share a giggle, forcing you two to give each other a quick glance. “I think she likes you.” You mention, “I like her too.” He replies, petting her ears, as red as his. “Well don’t feed her ego, now. It’s already through the roof.” You teasingly scoff, another airy laugh leaves him.

“Don’t be harsh, I think she needs it. I mean, I don’t know what you two were talking about just now but it seems like she needed her confidence there.” He smiles at you, taking her face into both hands. Your groan makes him wink at Camila, thankful that he’s found something to converse with you. “Her and Ollie–” Camila brays, removing Jaehyun’s touch from her. “They have such an intense hate-love relationship that his name throws her off, so I’m giving her advice on how to deal with it. Right, Mila?” Understandingly, she nods, seeking your attention again.

“Granted it’s all made up, she’s a little jealous but with you here I think Ollie should take the role.” She brays again, aiming to bite your hand. You get away just in time, sticking your tongue out at her. Jaehyun receives the image with laughter, his chest filled with joy.

He shakes his head, petting hers to calm her down. “No, I don’t want to be responsible for their failure.” You nod, picking up a metal rake. “Mind if I help you? It’s getting boring there…” He’s ashamed to admit it. You sympathize with him, after all when you used to visit you often fell in his shoes.

“Alright, a heads up, this will be messy work.” He nods obediently, eyes shimmering with their natural gloss and the sun’s reflection.

Darn him and his cuteness!

Blinking the thought away you hand him a broom and the rake. “Here, hold these while I tie up this maniac.” Your eyes squint meeting those of the ram that tackled you when he arrived. His own mimicking yours, it was on and he knew it.

With rope in your hand, test swings approaching the pen’s door, the beast starts to test the waters. Three…two…one! What ensues is a battle between both, Jaehyun trying his best to help. He envisioned that this rivalry is what Ollie and Camila had, he’d witness it a few days prior. The only exception that you and Whitey hated each other to the core. He never knew why.

After a few falls and tugs here and there, you two managed to get him in the isolation pen. Scoffing and laughing as he settles on newly clean hay. While he relaxes, you both huff and hold onto the fence, wiping away any remnants of sweat. “Ready to work?” You question, Jaehyun felt like this was enough. Unfortunately it’s only the beginning.

With free and safe reign to go inside the pen, you lay out the map of where to go and be careful. The wall to the neighbors cooped the chickens. It was the time they laid eggs so cleaning it would be held off until a few days later. On the opposite side to the street, roosters had their own coups.

“All you have to do is separate the poop from the hay, that’s what the rake is for.” Jaehyun figured you felt apologetic for the task as the look you gave him when presenting the room manifested itself onto your face. If you only knew that he’d never say no to you.

He mutters an ‘alright’ with his brilliant smile, reassuringly. “While you do that,” you watch him struggle, “I’ll clean this one.” Your voice slowed, concentrated on how to maneuver. You referred to the pen around a large cactus. He didn’t give it much thought when you went in, he also felt it wouldn’t be that hard, the livestock discard balls for goodness sake.

He had the confidence that died along the way he swept and raked. For small balls they were pungent and he wasn’t handling it well, the uncovered smell of piss added to it. You try not to laugh when he gagged or turned around so you wouldn’t see him cover his face but it was becoming hard.

Endearing is the word you’re thinking of, even when he perceives it as mockery that his face falls into a pout when he hears your laughter. “Please don’t laugh at me.” He practically begs, head lifting for a waft of fresh air before pushing old disgusting hay into a trash bag.

“I’m sorry,” A laugh escapes. “It’s good I’m the one here, I wouldn’t doubt Ollie tormenting you if it was him here.” Jaehyun agrees, the difference being that he wouldn’t care for Ollie's ridicule, he’d play along and try his best to improve. He cares for your opinion which is far different.

“He did enough during harvest.” “I heard.”

Silence befalls as you continue, the sun seems to have hidden behind clouds for the time being.

“I’m sorry you’re not having a good time.” You broke the peace, his ears perking at the condolence lacing your voice. “I know you wanted an escape and I’m sorry I haven’t been of much help.” He couldn’t believe his ears. Why are you blaming yourself for something that should only matter to him? He has free will and range to get up and take the next taxi or bus to neighboring towns. You shouldn’t blame yourself for his decisions.

Escapism might not have come to him in the way intended but everyday has become a new experience for him. “Don’t… I promise that even picking up droppings is something new for me.” He rebuttals your claim, mirroring the same apologetic look you give him. “Y/n… I’ve been coddled all my life, this entire experience has been a new step for me and I feel like Bambi, positively.” He smiles, widely enough that it’s the first time you notice his deep dimples.

You sigh, unsure if it’s from relief, pash, or in between.

“Yeah, okay… I was in your shoes too when I began to stay as a caretaker. I’ve done all of this when I would visit but it was not as intense as it is now. I don’t mind, I’m here to help. I have to.” It sounds melancholic and he’s not sure how to interpret it.

Avoiding it you look around to see he’s done a good job. You’re actually very well impressed, the words that were meant to leave your mouth surely were appreciative but they’re shoved back down your throat when you attempt to stand up. It’s almost like his presence dumbifies you. Like you forget the world around you, manifesting itself in your careless and clueless actions like resting your open hand on a cactus while trying to stand up just to bring him comforting words.

Instead he’s met with your yelp as you prick your hand, head, and shoulder in the process of standing and tumbling down. Whitey’s karma has served you, he bleats mockingly when you keep on hurting yourself within the premise of his home.

Instinctively Jaehyun rushes to you, concerned and scared of what this could illicit. He isn’t safe of Whitey’s wrath, not when he helped you and has decreed the young brunette is of your interest. Rushing to your aid, Jaehyun doesn’t count on one of the sheep to leave her droppings on the path he’s taking. Fresh and new, it wasn’t difficult for Jaehyun to find himself slipping straight into the cactus that has served your own aches.

They say laughter is the best medicine. Both you and Jaehyun attempt it when your eyes meet but the throbbing is far more intense that you synchronize in wailing. Loud and tuneless, enough to drag out your grandmother from the kitchen and force laughter out of Ollie and your grandfather who were arriving from their daily duties.

Camila doesn’t stay too behind in her own laughter. You fear all the livestock was against you two or perhaps rooting for you in the most vicious way. It’s rotten to know this is the start of your shared misery and ache.

The accident had forced your grandparents to make it up to you both the following day. Early in the morning your grandfather drove you all to a neighboring town. Ollie groggily dragged himself out of his home despite his father’s complaints that he was being a burden. You reassured him he was always welcomed, your grandfather scolded his dad. Yelling at him to stop trying to force ideas in the boy’s head.

Jaehyun had taken in the scenery on his taxi drive although he’s convinced something is different this time. Aside from your grandfather teasing everyone when driving along the edge of the mountains, Ollie clinging to you ready to cry as if he didn’t surpass all of you in height.

It takes roughly an hour and a half to arrive at the destination and almost another to find parking they eventually found was free and available behind a cathedral. Everyone laughs at each other for missing it when minutes prior your grandfather was ready to turn the car around, hangry and annoyed at how this damn town was overcrowded with no parking spots.

For once he felt like an actual tourist, visiting the restaurant you all loved and gorging himself with the most delicious meal he’s ever tasted in his life – besides his mother’s cooking, of course! For reassurance, she will witness how happy he looked while eating through the picture you managed to snap of him.

After the meal, your grandparents attempted to walk for digestion but age made them give up as soon as you all reached the town’s plaza. It wasn’t a rare occurrence, you saw no problem with it, they’re together. All they asked was to bring them those donuts they loved dearly and a soda to share. Ollie took it in his hands to beat you to it. Now there you and Jaehyun stood looking at the elderly couple sat before you.

At the time it didn’t feel like a scheme but looking back at it, Jaehyun is sure you figured it out as well.

Despite the accident, you both went back to the timidness that sheltered you both. Stolen glances and polite smiles when caught, stopping here and there to take pictures of the architecture and culture. He wouldn’t tell you, but a good portion were candids of you. You look so pretty that he could not avoid capturing the only remnants of you he could keep.

Both try small talk, history pointers whenever reaching old buildings – most consisted of luring him away from hustlers. You’d laugh after every successful attempt and reward yourself with street snacks that he’d find too salty or too sweet, still delicious enough to risk getting scolded by his physician if it meant enjoying the wonders of life.

The day might have ended with shy conversations and laughs but both could testify that comfort is what surrounded you most. On his end he felt safe and secure, comfortable enough to laugh at anything you said because in whatever way he looked at it, your presence forced glee onto him. Warmth and comfort is what you would best describe it as and that’s what you have learnt care feels like.

Your grandmother began going easy on you after the accident and outing. You felt like a teenager visiting your grandparents again with how little she left for you to do and how she forced you to go out more often. Encouraging you to enjoy your summer as well while showing Jaehyun around.

Jaehyun is sure this was her way to make both of you appreciate the limited shared time. He’s thankful enough for it but bitter towards himself for losing some weeks at the start.

You began showing him around other towns. On times you went grocery shopping and he’d beat you to paying for it (his form of appreciation), he’d throw in a peach or two. His favorite, you figured.

At the neighboring market, he’d buy fridge magnets, five for the price of a large one. All which represented his favorite snacks he’s consumed during these days. You still remember teasing him for buying a mini replica magnet of a beer bottle. Later at home while rocking on a chair he showed you a layout of how he’d arrange them on his fridge. In the meantime, you helped him decorate the door to his room, enjoying the air the fan blew at both.

When it rained, Ollie forced both to dance under the cold drops. Enjoy life as you should, he justified. At night, he’d dragged you both to the night market. Showing Jaehyun his favorite drinks and laugh when you scold him for drinking like an old man with kidney issues. He would joke about you and Jaehyun being his parents and would even grab your hands to skip in between both when it was so easy for him to drag you down. Damn him and his tall genes.

He’d drag the joke far enough to reach home where your grandparents never missed the opportunity to throw in a “Take your brat with you.” whenever Ollie was available and you were to show Jaehyun around. Neither of you minded, Ollie was silent enough to let you two bask in each other’s presence and playful enough for you two to feel at ease and content.

In another universe, this would reign true and not a fragment of a life you’re all creating that was never to bloom.

After three months the festivities had reached your village and vendors from all around the country settled by the plaza. Intrigued at first and fascinated by what they sold, poor Jaehyun fell victim to one of the home goods sellers. Spending a large amount buying your grandmother some pots, pans, a set of dishes, and stools as a token of appreciation. He went overboard but was happy to help, blinded by the cheap prices. Jaehyun should’ve known something was off, he knows you would have talked him out of it but you had been arguing with another vendor that they took advantage of the painfully obvious foreigner in the meantime.

When arriving home and seeing he had been robbed, you got ready to argue and force them to give him his money back. He protested despite being defeated and sad he was swindled. He convinced you but not your grandparents and Ollie. The three had taken matters into their own hands while you two fetched salt blocks to replace in the pen. By the time you got back, Ollie’s hair was far more ruffled than usual and his face red while your grandfather laughed, taking a sip of his beer, clanking it with your grandmother’s. On the kitchen bar, Jaehyun’s money was laid out. Every single cent and interest returned to him, money he used to invite all to dinner and dessert with a gift of their choice.

Ollie wore his tonight. Gleefully trotting through the threshold of the gate, careful to not scuff the boots Jaehyun gladly bought while singing to gain attention. Jaehyun laid on bed, scribbling his thoughts on his days, one-liners here and there and far more of the noises you’ve made. In addition the lyrics to the song Ollie sang before your grandmother told him to stop before he ate a fly.

Fireworks had been going off all day and neighbor’s music loudened with their gates open. This wasn’t new but it seemed to be far more intense today out of all days. “Why aren’t you ready? You’re not going to the fair?” Ollie questions, out of breath and frantic to see your grandparents sitting on their chairs enjoying today’s weather with a cup of soda in one hand and pastries in the other.

Talks about a fair had not gone in deaf ears throughout the past three weeks but Jaehyun paid it no mind when he saw that no one else seemed concerned – besides Ollie. It seemed to be a big thing when he noticed more carps, games, and rides fully covering the plaza.

“Don’t think we will be going, Ol. Their knees hurt.” Your voice manifests itself, forcing Jaehyun to sit up and put away his journal. You had been doing some chores outside his room. Hanging laundry and watering the plants, the product of everything he’s written and attempted to draw today.

He follows outside, Ollie greets him, a mischievous smile on his lips forming an idea. “Why not? I’ll drive if you want! Do it for Jaehyun, he’s never going to experience this again.”

Ollie’s childish intuition strikes again, this time in the form of a gash against both of your chests.

You both knew it was true but reality is what Jaehyun wanted to escape and you had made sure to enable him. It just so happens that you have fallen victim to it as well.

No matter, he said he wanted to stay months so it should still be far along in the future. You think so… you implore.

Perceptive is a word to describe your grandparents. Despite their ache they figure it is not as big as the one brewing in the depths of your conscious and heart. As best as they can, they agree with the younglin and head inside to get ready.

Ollie is ecstatic, he’s always been a fan of these things but now that he was of age, he could enjoy it more with a drink or two. Not to mention things like these are grounds for finding partners and like any town boy who hasn’t found one, he’s looking forward to it. That’s what he tells you and Jaehyun at least but he knows he’ll spend his night looking after your grandparents, far more giddy about you two together.

He had been smart enough to put cinder blocks early in the morning in a parking spot front and center from the fair, forcing Jaehyun out of the car to move and put them behind the car once he parked so no one would block them. Perfect was his plan that once everyone got out of the car, his friends that occupied a bench scattered like roaches to give their seat to your grandparents. Both elders find it comical seeing right through Ollie.

Arriving just in time for the parade, all queen candidates drove around in their elaborately decorated transportation. Colors flying around similar to their presentation favors, many which ended up hitting both Jaehyun and Ollie in the head. The older of the two made sure to take pictures of it while Ollie complained, claiming he was glad he didn’t vote for whoever hit him. The new reigning queen didn’t appear until the end. It was far more of a social economic competition. Whoever paid more won therefore it wasn’t surprising when a queen from years prior won again.

“You should’ve signed up, you would’ve won, Y/n.” Ollie elbows you, received with an eye roll. “Right, Jaehyun?” That devious brat, always finding a way to make you miserable. You try not to turn to Jaehyun, yet his gaze is so intense that it forces you to do so slowly. His face, decorated with that usually wide smile that emphasized his dimples, eyes squinting in glee when yours finally meet his. Candidness and benevolence lacing his voice.

“Yes, you would have won, Y/n.”

That was enough footing for Ollie to shoo both of you away, promising to take care of your grandparents while you had fun. Your attempts at protest are futile, your grandparents helping Ollie in his mission. Buying the three something to eat in the process before parting ways, promising it’ll be fast.

It’s not fast, it’s a brisk walk that both you and Jaehyun enjoy. Struggling to not lose each other within the masses going opposite or in the same direction. He jokes about feeling like a meerkat in a sea of gazelles, you laugh but he’s sure you don’t find it funny. At least he’s glad you humor him.

You entertain him through food. Buying tornado potatoes, plain and simple. He mentions having eaten these when he lived in Connecticut. You ask him about the state and what it’s like, you’re not too thrilled nor believe him when he says it’s boring. As an attempt to remove the connection, you drizzle hot sauce on one half of the potatoes. Scared but willing to try it, Jaehyun lets you feed him the first broken off bit. It’s enjoyable at first, soon his face blends with the lights behind him. Red and bright as he begins to cough. Now he will only think of this when it comes to the snack.

You both laugh at it, as an apology you buy him a drink. A piña colada for him and a michelada for you, it should work enough to ease both of your bashfulness. He couldn’t eat anything from the drizzled side, leaving those for you whilst he munched on the dry. Giving you sips here and there from his drink to cool down the fire in your mouth. He teases you for choosing a spicy drink when you’re eating far more spice, receiving him with an eye roll and “You don’t know what life is about.”

Finishing that, he dragged you to a game. You’d like to think he found it far more odd because of the mini stripper animatronics in the center of all the glass bottles but he reassures you the life-size gremlin doll pissing on people was more alluring – and disturbing. It didn’t stop him from attempting to win a decrepit pale Winnie the Pooh bear.

He had spent a good amount of time trying for it, towards the end he required your help. You had been nagging him throughout the entire game to not spend more money on the game, that it was most likely rigged but when it was your turn and managed to burst all bottles, then it became a skill issue.

Jaehyun mopped about it, you figured the bear would bring him comfort. He held it for seconds to soon return it with a bright smile. You try rejecting it, he had been fighting hard for it so it was confusing why he didn’t want it. You thought it had to do with the principle of the winner takes it all; it wasn’t the case.

He confessed he had wanted to get it for you and only felt bummed that he wasn’t able to but that you should keep it irregardless as a token of his appreciation and care for you, to give your Garfield some company. The moment would’ve been sweet if the booth attendant didn’t make that stupid doll spritz it’s faux piss your way, forcing you to flee while cursing him out with laughs in between.

That was the beginning of your journey through halls and carps, stepping out here and there to get on children’s rides that warrant glares from parents. Jaehyun joked about dragging Ollie so he could ride the caterpillar rollercoaster with him and have you take pictures of a father with his kid. Jaehyun is now playing along with the fantasy Ollie has created. You don’t know whether to laugh or let the ache in your heart manifest.

You end at the ferris wheel only a few feet away. In the process of calming each other’s laughter, the noises of people and music filled the silence. Comforting as the day you met, walking through the market and buying produce for that day’s meal. It makes Jaehyun think about how far you two have gone. How one little incident with a cactus has led to having the time of your lives nearing the highest point of the ride.

You’ve felt the warmth and softness of his touch. Felt his care and appreciation through every little act yet you yearn and crave for more from him. Your body and soul know there is more both can offer, although frightened that you’ve misinterpreted his lingering gazes and gestures.

“When I was younger my mom had decided that we would spend every summer with my grandparents and aunt. I hadn’t been here since I was five for her grandpa’s funeral so it meant nothing the first few weeks. The first year, even.”

Jaehyun turns, intrigued. “Then when my mom would make the long distance calls and send letters, my grandpa would joke around how I didn’t want to visit them at all – that I hated it here, similar to how he does with you. I didn’t hate it, I think I just wasn’t familiar with the lifestyle in comparison to back home where I don’t have to worry about if there’s hot running water.”

His hand inches closer to you. “In attempts to prove him wrong, I spent my time here helping him with the animals, going grocery shopping with him and my cousins and it drew me closer to this. After the second summer, we spent Christmas here too and the weather killed me but they seemed so happy that I joined.”

Your laugh comforts him. He thinks about the times he’s attempted to help and failed your grandparents, it only dawns upon him that things take time and he shouldn’t dwell on them too much.

“Then in my last summer of college, I had taken an internship that promised a job right out of college– obviously it was a lie, I’m here.” You laugh bitterly. “I missed time with my family and my grandma ended up in the hospital. I felt so guilty the remainder of the year, even during winter break. I felt like it was my fault, that my absence was the small piece of the puzzle that could ruin it all.”

Jaehyun felt and heard the remorse in your voice, he felt the need to find a way to ease it with no avail, feeling as inutile as when the ram tackled you. It’s imprinted in his brain that no matter what, it will weigh on his shoulders that he’s not able to help no matter how much he tries.

“And I think the universe is funny and cruel enough that when the internship dropped me and said all vacancies were occupied, my aunt was the one to fall ill next. Forcing her back home with her own family. It was its way to make it up to me, as horrible as it sounds.”

You share a sigh, he takes your hand in his, reassuringly. You don't want comfort words, he knows that, he knows this is enough for you. “I think what I first felt when visiting is what you feel now with the exception that you actually have so much to do out there…” Jaehyun’s actions halt, lifting his head to look at your sorrow filled eyes.

He shakes his head, trying to convince himself and you. He clings to the delusion everyone helped create in hopes to be good hosts. He still has time, Jaehyun has time, he wants to believe it so please don’t shatter his joy so quickly, please!

“It’s okay, Jaehyun. You have to publish your book, we’ll always be here for you as they’ve been for me.” He’s not too sure how true that is. Life is never consistent nor forgiving, he’s learnt that in harsh ways. People’s care is conditional and based on time and familiarity, he’s been at the end of that stick.

Your hand takes purchase on his cheek, consoling him for what you have just said. You didn’t intend to cause this but you have to prepare yourself for what you’ve known all along. “I don’t think I want to go back and risk anything.” He mutters, eyes softening the longer he looks at you, the ride feels endless.

“You must… All there is for you here is inspiration.” They’re meant to comfort him but it feels more like you’re trying to convince yourself that you’ll be fine when he leaves. Jaehyun’s lips part ready to speak, words muted by the fireworks going off. Midnight has hit, it’s a brand new day and it’s received with pyrokinetic colors that aim to diffuse the pain he feels.

They illuminate your face, a smile forming in awe of how pretty they look. Not as pretty as you, Jaehyun is sure of that the longer he stares with the same smile on his face you adore. “I’ve found the life I needed all along.” His touch on your cheek brings you back to him, dumbfounded with what he meant. Inquiries answered upon feeling his lips softly land on yours.

Hands softly cradle your face, eyelashes tickling your cheek as you get a taste of him. It’s so soft and tender that you want to be here for the rest of the night, drowning the noises around you. If you’ve felt heaven before, it doesn’t compare to being with him like you are now.

The crowded path didn’t feel claustrophobic, like it was just you two in the sea of booths, fluorescent lights and fireworks. The music drowned, his grasp on you doing its best to keep you with him for whatever time is left for you two.

He hadn’t noticed at what point you both had gone back until Ollie stepped in between you two. “So? Did you like it?” The giddy young boy questions, a bottle of beer in his hand, compliments from his cousin – your grandparents with their own as well, watching. Jaehyun nods, glancing at you. “More than anything.” He smiles widely, hypnotizing dimples present.

Ollie giggles, a chant as he jumps near your grandparents telling them something that neither of you manage to hear, distracted by the shocking ice-cold bottle shoved into your hands. Your grandfather had been talking to your grandmother, both laughing about judgments thrown at people around them. Mean, yes, but it’s not often that they bond about things anymore.

The elder’s leg had been bouncing as they talked, cackling in the process of drowning whatever was left in the bottle. Jaehyun took notice of this, turning to the group playing up on stage a few feet away. People around were dancing, some seemed to enjoy themselves, others not too much – the only thing that mattered was the ambient and showing face.

Jaehyun approaches your grandpa, asking if he was having a good time. The older of the two nodded, responding by showing the new bottle Ollie handed him. You scold both of them to not drink too much but they shush you. “It’s a party, Y/n. Liven up.” Ollie laughs, alcohol having gotten into his stream, demonstrated on how clumsily he clinks his bottle with yours and everyone else's. “Come on, let’s dance instead.” Pulling you in for a quick little shuffle. He’s not a great dancer, he knows it. He also knows his joy brings joy to your grandparents and you’ll do anything for them to maintain it.

You entertain Ollie, dancing despite him having already stepped on you multiple times. Apologizing with whines and puppy eyes that make you laugh. You push him off after a while, helping your grandfather up so he could dance with you. He’s overjoyed, finally having the opportunity to do what he loves so much, a pity your grandmother is the opposite. She’s content enough with just watching.

Jaehyun smiles, laughing in glee at how the ambient fuels his emotions. His own body swaying ever so slightly, brain trying to formulate how to dance to music he’s never heard. He thinks he gets it, it doesn’t seem too hard but he could be proven wrong and become Ollie’s mirror.

Your grandmother, ever so insightful, watches with a glint of content with how well he has adapted to the culture. Although, far more interested in the way his eyes don’t leave you. His ears are red, brighter than the light illuminating the stage and the municipal office. Jaehyun may try to hide how he feels, you may try, but she’s older and wiser. She’ll always know when love is around.

“Go ask her for a dance.” She elbows him to catch his attention, Jaehyun had been holding your grandfather’s seat. The mention alone caused his ears to brighten, crimson migrating to his face. He tries not to smile, it so happens to be that his muscles are treacherous and they emphasize the lines of his smile, deepening those dimples you love.

Jaehyun shakes his head. Convince her that it’s okay, that he would rather watch, something she won’t allow. “Don’t coward away. When’s the next time you’ll get the chance?” Jaehyun ignores the heavy meaning of her words, he prefers to ignore the reality that slowly creeps in. Regardless, he nods, taking in the other point of view. He thanks her with a smile, standing up to walk towards you. Sacks of nervousness weighing him down, making his hands sweat.

“Mind if I take her from you?” Jaehyun clears his throat, head tilting, pleading. The older man cackles, pure and utter joy that Jaehyun has made a move. Frantically he nods, agreeing by pushing you towards the brunette who seems just as ecstatic as your grandfather. Given persimmon, Jaehyun takes your hand in his. Awkwardly figuring out how else he should position himself.

You watch amusedly, hiding your smile by pressing your lips together as if your cheeks and eyes were not a dead giveaway. “What makes you think I wanted to dance with you?” You tease, correcting where his hands and feet should go. The smile you try hard to hide slowly creeps in. Jaehyun doesn’t mind exposing his own, giggling when you begin to lead. “What’s this then?” He plays along, moving his feet and knees according to what he had examined. Raising your shoulders in a shrug, you don’t hold back your smile, a giggle following. “A lesson.”

The dance doesn’t go smoothly, you have to teach him between laughs, both yours and his with your family’s in the background but he manages. Even if you all think his dancing is horrible, as bad as Ollie’s, the younger one takes the opportunity to capture you two dancing with Jaehyun’s camera. If there’s something to remember, it is this night and the love that has finally come into fruition.

The flash blinds you, stopping you two from dancing and even though Ollie whines for you two to continue, you both claim your feet ache. It’s not a lie on your end but the coyness from your family seeing you with a potential partner is a bigger deal.

It’s past two in the morning, obvious in the way your grandparents hide their yawns from your view, hoping to not ruin your night further. “Want to go home?” You walk towards them, a hand on your hip and genuine concern on your face. They admit they are tired but don’t want to go home no matter how much you insist. Ollie offers to drive them home while you and Jaehyun stay back longer but you’ve been away from them this entire night that you cannot fathom the idea any longer.

Ollie and your grandparents can try to convince you with the same story about Jaehyun’s limited time but that wasn’t going to work now. No, you stick to your guns and manage to get them in the car. Ollie had drank far more than all of you so he wasn’t apt to drive, instead Jaehyun volunteered, something that had excited your grandfather the most.

After removing the cinder blocks and putting them back in the trunk, Ollie walks towards your window, bidding everyone goodnight. You nag him, worried that he was drinking too much. He receives you with an “Okay, mom!”, the same phrase he’s been throwing around ever since Jaehyun had reached a month’s stay. It managed to get a laugh out of your grandparents, even from you and Jaehyun but it didn’t change that you still lightly swat his hand. “I’m serious, Ollie. Don’t drink anymore, stay back a bit but not too late, Okay?”

The worry in your eyes makes him relent, nodding before kissing your cheek goodnight and shaking Jaehyun’s hand. The interaction forced a smile on his face, every single aspect of your tenderness making him melt more.

As the moon is his witness, Jaehyun has fallen in love with this village and you. Gracious the stars are that once you manage to get your grandparents in bed and meet Jaehyun in the kitchen, the two of you quietly make your way outside with nothing but moonlight to illuminate you.

“Want some coffee?” You ask, fingers familiarizing themselves with the texture of those yellow walls. “Do you not want to sleep?” He laughs, taking those same fingers to familiarize with the tenderness of his lips. The action makes your breath hitch.

“Perhaps…”

His eyes meet yours, inching closer to capture your lips in another tender kiss. His hands find purchase on your waist, your arms wrap around his shoulders. It’s sweet and soft, his tongue managing to slip in your mouth to waltz with your own. The soft muscle forces a delighted sigh, one that he swallows graciously.

When neither can hold it for much longer, you separate, smiling like two fools. “So no coffee, then?” You laugh, one he reciprocates with a nod. “Too bitter, not as sweet as you.” The flirtatious remark is received with a laugh.

“You’re so cheesy.” You claim. “It’s worth it if it makes you laugh – it’s what I like to hear everyday.”

Jaehyun’s expression is serious, the adoration in his eyes letting you know how he feels. He may not pin a word to it but you can see his yearning and longing. You try to be in the same cloud he is in, to ignore the dooming reality but you can’t. You appreciate his affection and you reciprocate it but you also don’t want to become delusional.

“Jaehyun…” Your head drops, avoiding his look. He thinks he’s done something wrong and it aches horribly. “Yeah?” He squeaks meekly, head moving in hopes to see your eyes, to understand how the atmosphere became so somber. “How serious are you about this? You know how things are an–”

“Don’t… Please don’t bring that up.” He begs, eyes shutting, no longer in need to understand what you meant. “You can’t act like you don’t have a life outside of here. You may stay all you want but eventually you will go back – there’s more to life than this for you.” Your head lifts, vulnerability not as heavy as his.

He tries to drown out your words, this night has gone too well for things to fall off already. He doesn’t want it to be bittersweet. Sure he can stay all he wants until it’s time to publish his book but he will come back so why are you being so cruel to him?

“Nothing compares to this, Y/n.” He holds your hands, hoping his warmth lets you know how much you’re hurting him but also how much he loves you. You shake your head, a small smile of unbelievability. “You’ve been here for three months, that’s still fine and dandy. It’s not like truly living here.”

His eyebrows furrow, refusing to listen. “But you still love it here. I don’t know what you’re trying to get at.” His voice quivers, frightened that this is your way of ripping his heart out.

You sigh, squeezing his hands. “I do, I love it but I also think that I’ve been looking at this place through the same glasses you’re looking through. What I’m getting at is that, in the long run you’ll get bored, everyone I know has and they’ve left… Who knows, maybe even Ollie will leave and it’ll leave me here because no matter how hard I try to make a life out there, it doesn’t love me back.”

Jaehyun was perplexed, eyes scanning your face. He knows you’re projecting, that you don’t want to get attached despite already having done so, he hopes you could see inside him to understand that he doesn’t ever want to leave. He doesn’t want to leave you.

His hands cradle your face, kissing your eyelids, cheeks, nose, and lips for reassurance. “I can always come back. After publishing whatever I have in hand, I will always come back. You are the life that I needed all along, Y/n.” His whisper is heavy and sincere, the glimmer in both your eyes, evidence to what both feel.

Words don’t describe what you two feel, no matter how heavy they hang on your tongues. No, it’s best that you share it in another tender kiss that the stars and moon witness. Both end the conversation, convinced that the love you two port is stronger than the universe’s will.

Quick glances and kisses are stolen for the following weeks, everyone knows what both feel but it’s more exciting if you pretend as if this love is forbidden despite the encouragement and approval of your family. Ollie teases you two about the brewing romance, pretending to act like he didn’t say anything regarding it when you correct him that nothing is happening. It’s like a game for all of you, one that you all indulge in for the sake of excitement.

You had all agreed upon visiting a thermal spring this morning, the drive was somewhat long and it was best to arrive before other people did. Ollie was the most excited about it, he had begged his family to let him go for days until they agreed. It just so happens to be that the universe doesn’t often like to see him happy; you don’t appreciate that.

Ollie had arrived with a glum look on his face, saddened eyes when he sat in his usual seat next to the chimney. Jaehyun approached him with a cup of hot chocolate and a pat to his head. Your grandma didn’t take long to question the reason behind his state but he only sighed.

“They moved the pension collection to today. The offices will be closed until next month for remodeling so you two have to go in before the line gets long.” His lip juts out, looking at everyone with puppy eyes.

You ruffle his hair, rubbing his back comfortingly. “We can go tomorrow, Ollie. Don’t worry…” You mimic his pout, his head rests on your hip, pressure tickling your hip bone. “No… Dad is taking me with him out of town for a few weeks to help with the ranch that hired him.” He doesn’t dare look at anyone. It’s not the first time he was taken to different places in the country but when they came back his dad usually kept Ollie locked in for a while until he became unbearable to keep in. It’s as if he relishes in your joint misery.

Jaehyun throws you a look, looking for ways to solve this crisis. He knows you don’t like the news, he hates them too. He’s grown so fond of Ollie that knowing he’s the first to go is causing a small turmoil in his chest. Sure, he may be back and Jaehyun will still be here but one never knows how things may turn out.

“What if you and Jaehyun go? I have to take my grandparents for their pension so you two enjoy.” Ollie wishes things were that easy but his childish intuition fears that time is coming short and if you don’t spend more time with Jaehyun, he’ll feel guilty for whatever ending comes.

Ollie shakes his head, standing up. “No, it’s fine. You and him go. I’m going to take my dad anyway so I can take them too.” He attempts to smile even if he can’t. It dawns upon you that missing the trip isn’t his concern but not seeing any of you for God knows how long is what’s killing him.

You try to deny, shake your head in protest. Jaehyun does so as well, it’s not that he doesn’t want time alone with you but knowing this is his last day with Ollie for a while is killing him. Your grandparents hadn’t said anything up until this point. They weren’t fond of swimming, they never did.

“Ollie is right, you two go.” Your grandmother spoke, standing to grab her purse. “I can��t leave you two, what if you need help?” You attempt and they protest, your grandfather jumping in by throwing in Jaehyun’s limited time. It seems they’re all far more in tune with reality than you two.

You don’t know how or when but they managed to convince you and Jaehyun to go. Both attempted to protest and cancel the trip all together but here you were, in your grandfather’s old and chipped red ford. The seats torn apart, a blanket hiding away its imperfections. The red leather of the dashboard hot under Jaehyun’s touch, its form of showing that you two being left alone was real.

That now you didn’t have to talk through a window in the bathroom to spend some alone time. You didn’t have to climb on the sink and hit your head on the roof just to see his face through the mangled chicken wire and be received by concrete flakes on your lips and eyelashes whenever you attempt to kiss through it. No, here you were able to hold hands and kiss without fear of being caught (even if it didn’t matter – everyone knew).

The roads were messy and bumpy, dirt flew all around which forced you to keep the windows rolled-up despite the sun’s rays being hotter than the actual weather. Worse off is that once he came out of the truck, a gust of cold breeze rained upon him. Showing him everything he had missed while struggling with heat and keeping dust out of your airways.

It was a reward but also mockery, to him at least because you remained unphased, rejoicing on how lonely it was. “Reckon everyone is getting their pension, too?” You ask, hands on your hips, ripping some overgrown grass by your feet to make sure no venomous critters are around.

Jaehyun shrugs, letting his focus remain on his surroundings. It was amazing for him to see how deserted and destroyed this place was. Overgrown yellowing grass that stray cattle eat, ruins of houses from colonial towns signaling the fleeing of whoever had inhabited them before; your grandfather had later explained that the location was a town destroyed in the process of gaining independence.

What was prettier to him was the body of water he was here for. Multiple trees around, so green and alive in comparison to the remaining vegetation. The water is so clear and warm that he could see the steam rise the closer he got.

“Like it?” You question, to his side with towels on your shoulders. Jaehyun’s head whips, a smile on his face upon reaching for your hand, “It’s beautiful.” His fingers interlace with yours, camera in hand positioning it an arms length away when he takes the initiative to lean down and kiss you, capturing it all on film.

You shove him playfully, rushing to a dry rock where you can leave your possessions. He chases after you, removing his shirt and unbuttoning his pants. Your instinct to look away is something he does not miss and it causes a blush to creep up on his face.

He takes in the temperature of the water with his feet. Jumping back when he realizes it’s hotter than what he’s experiencing right now. “It’s not that bad.” You call out, pulling down on the bottoms of your dress swimsuit. Your smile softly falters when he doesn’t respond, rather his attention is set on how pretty you look.

The trees sway, leaving empty slots for the sunrays to seep through, illuminating you. Seemingly purposely done, to put you on a pedestal for him to look at with nothing else but admiration. That blush he had earlier rose again, one he’ll pretend is due to the water’s temperature.

“What are you looking at?” You tease, smile back on. Jaehyun approaches you with a shrug, shirt unbuttoned halfway. His fingers thread over the fabric of the straps, such a pretty lace decorated with satin red ribbon forming a bow at the front. “You.” He smiles, warm fingers touching your arms in hopes to feel closer than he already is in all senses. You don’t respond but he’s aware that the look you give him is fond.

Your hands mimic his, finding their way to his shirt and helping him undo the last few buttons, pushing off the linen to free his flesh and let it be kissed by the breeze – something you can only wish for. Once off you toss it to the pile of clothes and towels, cocking your head for him to follow you into the water. It’s glistening and steaming, soothing once his feet acclimate.

Silent sounds escape both, little by little submerging yourselves – your hands not letting go in any instance. “My mom and aunt loved to come here. They’re hypochondriacs – at least my mom is– always claiming a trip here was healing, holistic. Forcing my grandparents to put their feet in at least so the warmth would take away any aches.” Jaehyun could see how your free hand rubbed at your knees, mimicking their action.

“Pretty sure they take from my grandma but my grandpa was more of a people pleaser so he’d tell them he felt much better just so they wouldn’t feel bad. I don’t really see how this can take away all your aches. I get that it can help temporarily but not permanently.” Your shrug and words may tell him so but Jaehyun can tell that your vigorous rubbing at your own joints was a form of subconsciously believing them.

“Maybe… It seems like a mutual interaction of comfort and understanding. Your mom and aunt try their best for their parents to feel better about their bodies wearing down and in turn they receive praise and appreciation from them.”

Your hand stops its action, looking up at him with a hum. “I guess so.” You mutter, letting go of him to float on your back. “The writer in you just had to make it so philosophical.” he can hear the smile on your lips, your feet playfully kicking some water onto him to which he laughs, responding by splashing you too. Calling a truce when he was winning this battle.

As a way to comfort, he pulls you in for a hug. Your back to his chest, head resting on his shoulder and holding onto a railing to not float away far deeper. If it was for Jaehyun, he’d love to stay like this until it was time to go. For once in this entire trip you two have been truly left alone. No more sneaking kisses and late night talks through the bathroom window. It was just you and him an hour away from civilization with only the cattle as witness to the love you two didn’t speak about but embraced.

There is nothing more Jaehyun wants than to have more time with you. He wonders if things would have been different if he had fallen for you much earlier or if you had. He’s not fully sure how much you love him, he knows you’re stuck on him leaving sometime in the future which is what hinders this from going forward but he truly wishes you could see that he has no intent on leaving soon or for too long.

What if he had helped you clean the pen earlier? That would have meant spending more time with you and more outings with your family, surely. On the other hand, what if he had been useful enough during planting? It’s evident he would have never gotten close to you beside cordiality in the mornings and afternoons for meals and trips to the market.

Jaehyun cannot think of a world where this trip would result in you two not becoming closer. He can’t fathom not getting to know and falling in love with you.

Sensing his pensiveness, you turn your head, looking up at him with a questioning look that he could only interpret as trying to read his mind. He’s noticed that quirk, the way your head tilts and your lips quiver in a way to mutter a “hm” without voicing it. He makes sure to receive it with a smile, leaning in to peck your lips that surely help you abandon your actions.

“It’s a bummer Ollie didn’t come.” He attempts to distract. “Would have been nice seeing him have some fun before leaving.” There’s more to what he had said. Jaehyun wanted to add ‘before I leave’ into his sentence, it’s hanging on his tongue despite how much his brain and heart attempt to keep him wrapped around his delusion of perpetual happiness.

“I think so too.” your body twists within his arms, facing him. “I was thinking of making his favorite meal for dinner once we get back. His dad always returns him skinnier and paler than how he leaves, I need him to keep his cheeks plump, don’t you think?” Your exclamation forces a chuckle out of him, nodding in response.

“Help me find a gift for him too, then?” “Don’t spoil him too much, he’ll be an even bigger pain than he already is.” “Oh come on, don’t be so mean to the kid. Let me, please…” Jesus, if anyone was to hear you two they’d think you’re talking about a child and not a nineteen year old. But that’s what Ollie is to you both. A child you saw as yours or your brother that Jaehyun would spoil while you scold him no matter how much you loved him. You’d reckon Ollie’s presence kept you sane even if he often teased you but his nature was enough to bring entertainment for you and joy for your grandparents. If Jaehyun looks back at it, Ollie reminds him of the young boy he met in that taxi on the way to that village.

Reluctantly (faking so) you agree, rolling your eyes before pushing him off to swim away from him. He doesn’t stay too behind, chasing you for what feels like forever. Overworking your body for hours in such a hot body of water had rendered exhausting for both to the point that you basically had to drag each other out of the water just to lay on the cool metal ramp, gasping for air acclimation to avoid fainting. Jaehyun was far more concerned with you when he didn’t hear you speaking nor felt you moving, calming when you stick your tongue out at him for his nosiness although all you wanted was to see him smile.

“You complain about Ollie but it seems like the real brat here is you!” He exclaims, gaining momentum to swing his legs onto both sides of you. “Cry about it.” You mutter, a smile on your face; his hair hangs off, fuzzy around his eyes and dripping onto your cheeks. “Or… maybe I should do something to correct it.” His hair tickles your face, sticking to your cheeks the more his lips linger on them, testing the waters.

He relents when your arms wrap around his shoulders, leaving him flush over your body with nothing left but your lips to connect. They’re cold and pillowy, soft against your own just like his hands when they find purchase on your waist, holding you near as if the spring water below you will drag you out of his grasp, the last thing he needs.

Jaehyun is gentle in the way he holds and kisses you. His hands knead your skin, warming against it the more they roam around to hold you closer. Your fingers thread through his hair, sending shivers down his spine that causes him to sigh into the kiss, enough for your tongue to slip through and deepen the kiss. The intensity rose, his hands felt much hotter against your skin the lower they went, scalding when one of them grips your upper thigh –avoiding the bruising from whitey’s assault– helping it raise to rest on his hip.

Tongues mingle amongst each other, the taste of the mango juice he drank earlier still coating it to which you enjoy against your own. The thin film of saliva on both of your lips helps them slot smoothly in a far more pleasant kiss. Jaehyun’s fingers knew how to tease you, tips tickling your inner thigh that forced small groans which begged him for more.

More, more, more – Jaehyun would have given you everything if it wasn’t for the faint sound of music blaring and tires pushing dirt through Cattle began mooing, warning you of company joining, spoiling whatever comfort you two had.

You scramble to grab the towels, Jaehyun helps you, drying you off with his own and taking the remaining items under his arm to help you towards the truck, staying guard while you change into dry clothes coming in when you knock against the window. He doesn’t bother changing, claiming the air will dry him well enough upon.

You cross paths with the incoming truck, nodding your heads in acknowledgment before embarking on another long ride. Small talk made here and there, he speaks about how much this road reminds him of Western America: dry vegetation and barely any trees insight but with lively mountains that shield anyone from the sun. You tell him that it seems interesting how he describes that part while detesting Connecticut but he laughs and shrugs.

It’s not long until you stop at a gas station, the truck nearly empty and he still had to change into some dry clothes. He met you inside, walking through the aisles in search of a snack for whatever was left of the ride.

Jaehyun doesn’t share your sentiment. He finds himself distracted by a corner of toys, a bright red truck similar to the one you’re transporting through catching his eye. It glimmers under the sun rays that make way through the window panels. Jaehyun thinks it would be a good gift for Ollie, a menial one for now.

Paying for the items and heading outside with you hand in hand, Jaehyun recalls seeing a photobooth by the bathrooms. He pulls you along with no response to your questions, motioning with his head for you to push through the red velvet curtain. The first image is neutral enough, smiling while looking directly at the mirror, the flash comes in and you two hold each other. By the last two flashes it resulted in engraving the image of you two kissing.

You laugh at him for sneaking in a kiss and having it on film, he shrugs you off knowing that it was an image he’d like to see at all times and he’s hopeful you do too. You still needed to wait for at least four minutes for the film strips to develop, leading Jaehyun to slot in more coins claiming he wanted Ollie to have something to remind the young boy of the two.

Jaehyun truly wanted to say that he hoped Ollie wouldn’t forget that the two loved him. He hoped a flimsy piece of paper was enough of comfort to Ollie as they will be to him.

Pulling out a pocketbook rushedly, Jaehyun manages to scribble his support and appreciation for the young boy. That’s an image of himself alone, handing it to you to scribble something quick before the flash goes off again. The last two flashes are paraded with you two making faces you often made towards him – sticking your tongue out or scrunching your nose, the latter his favorite one.

“Good luck in your journey, you’ve done so well these past months!” “Ollie! Remember to eat all your meals and no buddy-budding with any louse. You’re a good boy!” “Fighting our lovely, Ollie!” Compliments of Jaehyun. “We love you, Ollie. More than you think.” Now that comes from the bottom of both of your hearts.

Jaehyun bought a jacket for Ollie once back in the village while grocery shopping at the market for the voyage dinner. For the first time since he arrived you had trusted him to navigate the village on his own. The everyday route was engraved onto his brain, finding you shortly with the jacket in a wrapped box. You wanted to see it but he told you you’d have to wait until Ollie opens it, he didn’t want to re-wrap this himself.

Your grandparents and Ollie didn’t arrive until a few hours later when everything was set up already. Jaehyun arranged the table outside with a fine china that belonged to you, not the one in the cabinet. He had attempted to help you in the kitchen but backed off when he saw your eye twitch the second he mixed a pot on the stove. There he learnt that getting in your way while cooking wasn’t a good idea so he instead went to feed the pen animals and loiter around to write the letter he’d give the young boy with his gifts.

Ollie could have sworn this was a delayed birthday party. Jaehyun had arrived a week after Ollie turned nineteen, missing any form of celebration. Now he was complete, this had to be a form of celebration and not a voyage dinner, it just had to. Otherwise why would he be crying at the dinner table?

Ollie would like to think his tears represented the impending doom you were all to face one way or another with his absence. Both figuratively and and literally; comically and realistically.

The hands on his back and shoulders try their best to comfort him, whispers of how this was yet another trip meant to minimize the meaning of this but Ollie knew something was wrong, something none of you did just yet. He smiled widely, tears streaming down his face, laughing in order to control himself but your gentle wiping and hugs made him fall deeper into that feeling. His childish intuition as you all call it.

Jaehyun on the other hand decides to pull out his gifts in hopes it would help but it only made Ollie cry harder. The younger spews his thank you’s, hugging Jaehyun for comfort to which the older one takes, his own heart filling with such an aching pulsation. He ignores it, it doesn’t matter what he’s feeling, he wants Ollie to take a good look and remember him in a bright light.

Ollie wore the jacket all night and took it on his trip – along the letter–, never letting anyone touch it. He left the truck with you and your grandparents, he knew it’d be far more safe with you than with his brothers.

The dinner didn’t spoil after his crying fit. Your grandmother had playfully scolded him to get a grip while your grandfather helped him with a shot of liquor. It progressed onto serving them all dinner, Jaehyun helping you throughout all steps while your grandpa complained about the long lines for their pension and all the old people as if he wasn’t one of them. Your grandmother only backed him up a few times, rebutting his claims in others just for the sake of arguing which caused laughs to leave everyone.

It wasn’t anything new, Jaehyun had grown accustomed to their conversations. They may argue right now but other times the tone of their voices sounded harsh when all they were doing was conversing, as peaceful as they knew how. He wonders if this will ever be you two although he’s not sure he could raise his voice at you or vice versa.

Night had fallen faster than any of you would have wanted. Usually Ollie would leave whenever he pleased and no one would bat an eye but in the past hour his father had called nearly ten times and it was bothering your grandparents. You and Jaehyun too but not as much as the elders since they were the ones inside. Your grandmother had been yelling from her bed to tell Ollie his dick of a father was on the line again, in fact by the fifth call no one answered, they just knew.

So when the tenth call had rung, Ollie who had been helping you put away the left overs answered angrily telling his father to fuck off and that he’d be on the way soon, received with some scolding from him that he didn’t finish spewing from how fast Ollie hung up. It didn’t mean your scolding wasn’t on the way with how piercing your glare was.

Like a kicked sad puppy, Ollie goes to you in hopes his affection would soften the blow. “That’s not how I’ve raised you, Oliver! Your dad may be a deadbeat but you still shouldn’t talk to him like that – at least in our presence!” Your fingers nip his earlobe, a yelp leaving his bitten lips and a grunt to follow.

“You know my grandparents don’t like when you talk back so don’t do it again when they’re around, okay?” You say, a hand on your hip like a mother scolding her child. That’s essentially how you saw him and how he saw you.

“So I can talk back in front of you?” A cheeky smile received with a soft pinch to his ear. “No!” Your smile betrayed your words. He giggles at the reaction he got out of you, twisting out of your grasp to take you into a hug.

“I really wish you would just enjoy the present and the time you have with Jaehyun without dwelling on how long or how little he has left here. Enjoy the love he’s giving you and return yours, he needs it too, Y/n. For what is left...”

He sighs, holding you in a firmer grasp. Words don’t quite describe what you want to answer with but you knew he was right despite your initial hostility.

You kiss his cheek, nodding as a response. He mimics your actions before waving and heading over to your grandparents to bid his goodbyes before leaving through the middle room.

Jaehyun doesn’t know why he disappeared after dessert. Perhaps he didn’t want to face Ollie when he left and had to say goodbye, he wasn’t good with those. So here he was, on the roof next to the water tank, filling it up as an excuse to why he was so detached from everyone else. It didn’t matter though, Ollie had found him immediately that when Jaehyun heard the clanking of boots he gifted the boy against the rusted ladder, he felt dread.

He pretended to be people watching, seeing how a guy on the right side cleaned his car (it is meant to rain tomorrow or overnight). In the front, a woman bathes her dogs within the vicinity of her patio, the dog shaking and getting the water all over her. On the dirt filled path, children rode their bicycles, going around any ditches and potholes that would make them fall.

Ollie joins him, standing besides, focusing far more on how the sun was setting. He allows Jaehyun to speak first but frowns when he doesn’t; the faint sound of the phone ringing again makes him shut his eyes.

“Thank you for the gifts, you’ve done far more for me than my own dad.” He bitterly chuckles. Jaehyun turns to him, a small grin on his face that falls when the younger one speaks again.

“You’re avoiding me.” “No.”

His voice wavers, eyes trying to show Ollie he wasn’t. Ollie chuckles again, shaking his head.

“I get it, don’t worry. I don’t want to say bye either.” “I don’t want to say bye.”

Ollie nods, looking at the sights Jaehyun had looked upon. The car was clean despite the sprinkling, a child had missed a bump and fell, and the dog was laying back on dirt.

“Jaehyun, it does mean a lot to me what you’ve done these months. You kind of suck with labor and all but you’ve been of great help.” He laughs, hoping his teasing jab will ease the tension. Jaehyun rolls his eyes, hitting the back of his head softly with a silent laugh. “I’m serious though, you’ve been of great help to Y/n, it’s not easy dealing with the house work and being a caretaker. I think you’ve helped liven her up more. I’m glad you’re able to think about your present with her. I hope it doesn’t change, you make her happy and we like seeing her this way.” Ollie sighs looking at his watch, the sun has set.

“I hope you’re still here by the time I come back home–” He laughs, cutting himself off. “It’s not even my home.”

“I’ve never felt more at home than here, I understand.”

Ollie smiles at his claims, he nods with a final sigh. Before going down he gives Jaehyun a final hug and a tight squeeze. The older man mimics his actions to demonstrate his own affection.

Midway down the ladder, Ollie stops and Jaehyun tilts his head. “By the way, this came after you left earlier today.” He pulls out a wrinkled envelope from his back pocket. Immediately recognizing the ivory color and red wax seal, all Jaehyun knows is that he won’t read it any time soon.

“Bye, Jaehyun.” “Bye, Ollie.”

–

Things didn’t go back to normal after Ollie’s departure, no matter how hard everyone pretended that this hadn’t created a rupture into the atmosphere – a breach to the eco. It goes to say that Ollie helped things feel easy and fun, he was the joy you all needed and now he was gone. Things felt mundane again and to Jaehyun this wasn’t a foreign feeling but one he did not want to have here.

A week and a half without him already feels like an eternity. You and Jaehyun wonder if this is what parents feel when their children finally part ways.

On the brightside, his conversation with you helped you ease into what you felt for Jaehyun. Yes, you still sneaked kisses and affectionate touches here and there out of respect for your grandparents but it was so obvious what you two had that the elders didn’t tease you anymore for the glances and blush.

Mail day has arrived and Jaehyun once again has received a letter, one he thinks about throwing onto the pile of drafts he’s written and discarded. The letter Ollie handed him before he left tucked in between those.

He thanks the mailman, putting down the rake he used to pick up fallen leaves. Your grandfather had taught him to put them in a pile to later be burned. He contemplates throwing the letter in, watching the red wax seal spread as it melts. He can't, though, the bold red letters screaming “URGENT!” make themselves present to him.

Jaehyun sighs, shaking his head wondering what it was now as he opens the envelope. Simple greetings, some scolding and questioning, and a plane ticket. What? That was enough for Jaehyun to ignore his nonchalant attitude and let panic take over him. He took the effort to read over the letter closely without missing a detail.

Why the hell would he have a plane ticket?!

‘Dear Jaehyun,

No, scratch that. What the hell is wrong with you? We haven’t heard back from you since that call and you’re not answering the one letter we sent you. We figure and understand you’re having a great time but it does not mean you’re meant to forget your responsibilities back home. Remember how you’re supposed to send drafts? Right, you haven’t done that and given the changes made while you’ve been gone it’s best you get to it!

We miss you so don’t regard this letter as totally reproachful. Please be sure to be here and don’t miss your plane. We’ll make sure to send a fax before you make it to the airport. Till then, enjoy your time and give us a call as soon as you can.

Sincerely, Jude.’

Well this has severed his plans and mood. Was it not enough to have one departure?

30 AUG 87, 17:30 time of departure, one way only. Red bold letters mirroring the ones that caught his attention to read the components of the letter. If he had known it was for this, he would’ve thrown it in the pile of leaves and act clueless if he was to ever receive an emergency call.

His aggravation was noticeable to you the second he stepped inside the vicinity of the patio. His face sunken, something it wasn’t before leaving to clean outside. Not to mention it seemed like he was biting the inside of his cheeks, holding in his breath as a form of repression. You watch carefully, pretending to not have noticed him while cutting sugar canes near his room.

He sees you and he wants to ask something or at least find a way to begin this conversation. He should tell you, no? He should, he knows it but he’s scared and also a coward who waits for you to throw the first stone.

“Something happened?” Jaehyun stops by the step before the kitchen, facing you with a slight shake of head. “Um… does the phone run overseas calls?” It’s your turn to shake your head, firmly unlike him. “Alright, I’ll be back in a bit.”

He bolts out towards Gabby’s with the ticket inside his pocket, crumbled and wrinkled like the letter Ollie handed him. The older woman seemed to have understood the reason for his visit. The second she saw the familiar face, she pulled that phone she loved so much to the counter along with the catalog and timer, dialing the code before handing it to him. Jaehyun was thankful she didn’t drag it out, he needed answers immediately.

One ring, two rings, “Hello?” Good, rapid enough.

Jaehyun grips the phone, a tight hold that makes his subconscious scared that he’ll pop this heirloom. “I don’t want to go back!” Well, that’s a way to start a conversation.

Hyunjoo laughs, calling Jude over to let him know their golden boy finally contacted them after four months. Jude wasn’t as kind as Hyunjoo, he took the fatherly role seriously and began berating the younger of the three on why he had gone rogue.

“What if something had happened to you? Do you not care for what we feel, Jaehyun. If it wasn’t for this idiot I would’ve sent you letters and even gone to pick you up, so don’t ever pull this on us again! On me, again!” One can only imagine how red he was, up to his receding hairline.

Jaehyun would’ve laughed in the past but now the life he’s built here is soon to crumble and he doesn’t like it. “It doesn’t mean you guys can just force me back! I’ve built something here, I have something going on! I love it here and I don’t want to leave!” He whines, obvious hurt in his wavering voice.

“Yeah, well, whatever you have going on should be finished soon. You know, you only went there for inspiration and to blow some steam off, Yuno. Nothing else, my boy.” If Hyunjoo was there he would pat his cheek reassuringly, unaware of how much Jaehyun hated his little acts of condescension and belittling.

Jaehyun didn’t want to finish what he had here, he wanted to stay forever. He wanted to stay with you, your grandparents, and Ollie. He wanted to be here by the time Ollie came back to greet him with a big hug, a meal, and a trip to the hot spring he wasn’t able to enjoy before leaving. He wanted to build a life with you. Court you properly, date you, travel with you. Even marry you, he doesn’t care how early this is or how late, he wants you and everyone he’s learnt to love these months in his life. Of course his career had to get in between him and his happiness like always.

Jude sighs, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Listen, Jaehyun… There’s nothing we can do, have you read the letter we sent you a few weeks back? That explains it all. Believe me when I say that if it was for me, you could stay there for as long as you want and go back whenever the book is published–”

“That’s the plan.” He interrupts, teeth gritting. Jude and Hyunjoo give each other a look, one that would make Jaehyun feel far more defensive if he could see it. “Jaehyun… things have changed within the publishing house. Go read the letter and we’ll see you Monday, yeah?”

Jude waited for an answer that Jaehyun never gave him. He hung up quite forcibly, receiving a glare from the store owner who muttered the amount. He didn’t stay for his change nor cared for her screams telling him to take it. Jaehyun was in an irritable mood that no one could take away from him today.

Things were definitely not fine. That’s as much as you and your grandpa could decree when Jaehyun crossed the patio straight into his room, closing the door behind him without uttering a word. The elder and you removed kernels in front of his window, under the tree for shade. You could hear him mumble incoherently, his eyebrows furrowing the further he read.

“What bug bit him?” Your grandpa whispers, cocking his head to the open window. You shrug, throwing away the cob into a bucket, fuel for the chimney. “Go ask then.” So persistent and straight to business. “What? No! I’ll wait until he tells me, pa…” But you did want to ask him what was wrong, more than anything. It’s just that your cowardice won’t allow you. The older man rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue in disappointment while feeding the chickens with fallen kernels.

Time and him can only tell what he’s feeling.

‘Dear Jaehyun,

For starters, we miss you dearly. At least I do but find it in your heart to believe Hyunjoo does so as well. We’ve respected your wishes on not contacting you, even through letters but it’s been over three months and you have yet to let us know how you are doing. Do you not care for mine and your family’s well being? I care for yours, I’ve been restless all these months wondering how you are doing. It’s far too irresponsible to not even contact your own family, Jaehyun.

Is the book in the works? How are the drafts? You know we needed drafts mailed throughout your stay, young man. How is the host treating you? I figure well enough if you haven’t contacted us yet. If not then I’ll see myself forced to call the national guard if I don’t hear from you soon!

Regardless, some updates on how things are going on our end. We’ve been able to fake some notices here and there to the publishing house about yours and the drafts whereabouts. If you must know, if you haven’t figured it out already – which is possible, being in such an isolated village… – Mark is in the process of publishing his next book. His last ones have been a great success and been able to knock some of yours from bestsellers therefore things are becoming harsh around here.

The publishing house wants you back immediately and wants your book ready. Hyunjoo has managed to give you more time before it’s edited and the final print is chosen but the new investors are pushing the house and they are desperate for a contender against Mark’s book. So please, cut your time short and don’t miss your plane! I’ll make sure to send the ticket soon when I’m able to obtain it.

Best regards, Jude.’

Jaehyun doesn’t know what to think. He now understands multiple jobs are on the line but so is his happiness. Even so if he goes and turns in whatever he has – which isn’t enough for even a first draft – what guarantees all of them that it will be published by the time Mark’s is? They can’t just publish some nonsensical thoughts he’s scribbled down for the sake of beating another child protege author.

Mark’s work is far different from Jaehyun’s, he’s youthful in the way he writes, his metaphors are far more enthusiastic and fun. He’s great within young audiences and those seeking to remove themselves from melancholia. He’s everything Jaehyun isn’t and in both their brains, they know they can’t compete for something neither are reaching for.

Matter of fact, that’s not his concern right now. His concern is on how to break the news to you and your family. He’s supposed to leave by the end of this week, what are you going to do in such a short notice? What is he going to do in such short notice? Things were finally starting to align, why must bad things always happen to him– you– both.

One thing is for sure, he has to tell you immediately. But first he’s going to go back to Gabby’s and buy whichever pack of beers and some chips, maybe even some bread in case you feel your blood pressure rise (he’ll eat it, most likely). Arriving there and getting the items, he’s grateful the older woman honored the change he had left, even gifted him a chocolate as she sensed that something was off. Jaehyun thanks her and contemplates on saying goodbye but it’s too soon. Instead he nods and waves on his way back.

He doesn’t have the courage to go past the threshold, opting to sit on the uncomfortable and textured concrete bench by the door of your’s and your grandmother’s bedroom. He hears the loud melodrama of her soap operas and the sewing machine she doesn’t leave alone. Another dress for you, he figures she’s making.

There’s the faint sound of music coming from your grandfather’s car, the one he and Ollie worked on often and that Jaehyun began helping with due to his absence. It pains Jaehyun to know that the elder will once again lose the aid he claims to not want but appreciates wholeheartedly.

His sigh elicits company, or perhaps the pop from the beer bottle had attracted it so here you were, standing by the metal threshold that separated you and him from inside to outside. Your head tilts, looking at him as if trying to read the grievances on his face.

“Misery likes company.”

Your voice makes his head snap, eyes glistening while drowning in the sweetness of your company. He smiles shortly, patting the empty spot to his right, the sun is setting fastly.

He takes your hand into his, kissing the palm and fingers before pulling you in for an embrace. All of this was scaring you the more and more he remained quiet and it only seems like your brain was already processing the inevitable.

“Got a letter from my manager…” “So?”

“My “rival” is putting out a book soon according to them and they want me to send in a draft already for the final print.” His fingers curl at the quotation marks, rolling his eyes at how stupid it all felt. “Ah… well, do you have anything to send then?” He shakes his head, apologies on your face. “We can stay this entire week so you can work on it, how does that sound? Pa doesn’t have to check on the crops any time soon and there isn’t really anywhere else we could go, not anywhere near.”

There’s so much pep in your voice that it hurts to think about how short the remaining days will feel. He has to tell you and he has to tell you now.

“I leave this Sunday, Y/n.” “Oh.”

Jaehyun didn’t mean to say it like this but how else was he meant to? He didn’t want to drag it out longer nor agitate you but he also didn’t want to hurt you and that’s all he can read on your face. Hurt.

Misery does love company.

Your body slumps against the adobe wall, harsh against your backbones. The hand he holds falls limp against his touch and all Jaehyun can do as comfort is kissing it before placing the open bottle in your hand, opening another for himself.

He hadn’t had the time to burn the pile of leaves and the sun was far more foreign by now. That shade of blue coloring his face, an obvious demonstration of his feelings from the past hour. Yet it’s you who takes the initiative to take out the box of matches from the apron you wear, forgetting that you were cooking dinner just to check up on him.

The flame catches fast, rising as you whisper your grievances into it, taking a sip of your drink. Jaehyun doesn’t say anything, he tries to take a hold of your hand but he hesitates, fearful that you won’t want it. Instead he throws both letters onto the fire, helping its consumption and anger. At least now you both have let something go.

The morning after, both elders made sure to not ask any favors out of him and let him to his own vices. They understood he’s meant to get his work done so they didn’t want to add stress onto him. But this continued onto the third and fourth day of the week and Jaehyun was aching more and more as his time fell short. He felt just as inutile as his first week, if not more than that week. He also felt his heart ache only having meals to spend with you all but even then he began feeling like the foreigner he was.

Conversations with him were as cordial as before but not as cheery. They asked about his book and what he had ready. They asked if his suitcase was prepared and if he was happy to go back home. Your grandpa did his best to joke around but would soon drop it when he felt his voice tremble. He’s always worn his heart in his sleeve and another one he saw as a son will now leave him again.

Your grandmother on the other hand was the most level headed. She made sure Jaehyun was kept on track with his work and even helped clean his room when he begged her not to tire herself. She’s faced much loss and pain, a stranger leaving wasn’t going to knock her down. If anything, she feels for how you will act once he’s gone.

By dinner time you and your grandfather had bolted out of the kitchen, feeding the animals any leftovers and giving them their own meal. That left him and your grandmother in the kitchen. She was in the process of taking some water from the bucket in the chimney, he did it instead. Pouring it into another container where your grandmother would then add cold water for balance.

She thanked him and told him he should go back to work but Jaehyun didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to be alone, he’s been so for the past three days and it’s corroding his soul. He wants to take away the happy memories, he wants his final days to be fun. He’s begging for you all to not do this to him. He needs contact and affection, he needs it.

“So… you have everything ready?” She tries to converse, passing the soapy sponge over the dirty plates. He nods, rinsing it. “Not excited, I’m guessing.” Jaehyun’s pout is enough of an answer. “Look at it on the brightside. You’ll be able to get it over with and the doors here are always open for you.”

He should know she means it, the problem is that he doesn’t know when he’ll be back. How long will it take for the book to be published? How long will promotions last? What if he’s forced to work on something else straight after? Jesus Christ, he’s not even back yet and he’s already stressing about his reality.

“Yeah?” “Yes.”

Jaehyun smiles at her.

“Will you take care of Y/n for me?” He asks again, putting away the dishes he’s rinsed. She laughs nodding, “She’s taking care of us, I think she’ll manage well.” Jaehyun laughs as well, feeling foolish. “I don’t think you should worry too much about her, Jaehyun. She’s strong and can handle this. As long as you two keep in contact, I believe it will be fine.” She pats his back, leaving a wet hand print that warms his muscles.

He contemplates on taking the advice. Your grandmother has said everything he already knows about you but perhaps he’s projecting his own feelings. He’ll need another source for advice and there’s no one better than your grandfather.

Jaehyun excuses himself, rinsing and drying the few dishes left before walking out to help your grandfather on the car. The older man sat pensive while looking around the vehicle, loud music coming out of it to drown any thoughts.

Hopping on the co-pilot seat, Jaehyun smiles at him, dusting away some stray picked up dust. “It’s looking better now.” He compliments, your grandpa nods, humming with a following hearty laugh. “You’re much better at this than me.” The older one shakes his head, continuing his laughter. “These things take time, you just need to practice more. When you come back I’ll help you with it.” Your grandpa is far more hopeful than the rest of you, that reassures him enough.

“You’ll let me in again?”

“Yes. You make my kids happy and you’ve been of great help even when you didn’t have to.” His laughter subsided, turning into a smile he was struggling to maintain. “It’s a shame you’re leaving so soon.” He hiccups, waterworks on the way. “We’ll miss you, kid. Especially Y/n…” The mention of your name was enough for him to begin his silent sobs, tears beginning to spill.

If there is one thing he can count on is your grandfather expressing what you and your grandmother aren’t able to. Jaehyun sniffles himself, comforting with some rubs to the older’s shoulder before hugging him. Now he knows how appreciated and loved he is and for that he is thankful.

Your grandpa attempts to stop crying, laughing in between to seem like everything was fine. That was always his way of trying to control himself. “You’ll come back, right?” Jaehyun nods, smiling at him while wiping away a stray tear. “As soon as possible. I want a life here.” Your grandfather smiles at him, looking straight to where his headlights shine.

“I’m not from here either. I was born and raised in a city an hour or two from here– you’ve been there, that’s where the airport is.” Jaehyun recalls his first day, the bustling and loud city with historical architecture. It was beautiful, surely, but it doesn’t compare to this village and its own beauty.

“I’ve worked my entire life since I can remember, seven to be specific. By eighteen I found myself here, I was young and my only experience came from the mines and cleaning cars but agriculture is a booming business here so somehow I found my way to a ranch that was hiring to work on machinery. I didn’t know how to work a car let alone a tractor but I was hungry and needed money to send back home. My dad died when I was only three and my mom was left alone with five kids. I had to help her. I lied my way through with the owner and I was young so he took me in.”

Everyone starts somewhere and soon falls in love with the place.

“I stayed at a shack they had built by plots, their own home wasn’t too far so I often went by to ask for a glass of water. That’s when I met Y/n’s grandmother. She’s always been this cold and serious. I would chug the water down and then beg her for more. She would roll her eyes and complain but would always come back with it filled to the brim, ice cold.” He laughs, tears finally gone.

“From then on I kept trying to talk with her even if she pretended to hate it. I’d ask her sisters and sometimes her brothers but it was tricky, I didn’t want them to beat my ass up for thinking about their sister! So, I would have enough with whatever conversations we would have when she brought the workers drinks and food or at dances. One time her own father told me to ask her to dance and since then I never left her alone. With his blessing, then none of her family would interfere and sooner than later I asked her to marry me so here we are, sixty years later and twelve kids.”

“Is this you giving me your blessing to be with Y/n?” Jaehyun half jokes but there’s so much sincerity in his voice that he can’t deny being hopeful. The older man nods and laughs, clasping his back. “As if you needed it… I often went back to my own family but still came back because I love this place and everything it has offered me. Similar to you… I hope your love for Y/n is as strong as mine was years ago. I would hate to see a different fate for you two.”

Jaehyun didn’t know how to respond to that, he truly wished to be back as soon as possible and he would fight tooth and nail to make it possible. Yes, it’s different from him and your grandfather due to the distance but he will make it work because he loves you, he loves you so much that he can’t seem to express it properly.

“Thank you…” “It’s just advice.”

The older man leaves him to his vices and thoughts. With another laugh and a nod bidding him goodnight, he turns the car off, leaving Jaehyun in the dark.

Jaehyun thinks about both conversations all night. He feels a sense of relief knowing he’s had a heart to heart with two of the most important people in your life. It’s good to know they approve of him and the love he has for you. He hopes you’re as understanding and hopeful as your grandparents.

Saturday came as a surprise to him. The roosters weren’t the ones to wake him up, it was your grandpa who excitedly told him to gather all his things. Jaehyun tried to question what was going on but the elder gave him no time. His hearty laugh was enough of an answer, taking the few suitcases he saw in the corner while pushing Jaehyun into the restroom to get ready. He’s not sure what’s going on but he won’t protest, it’s the first time this week that he feels included.

Within half an hour everyone was ready, Jaehyun noticed you too were surprised by the sudden change of plans. You weren’t your usual put-together self and kept yawning resulting in you sleeping throughout the entire car ride. He took this moment to take pictures of the road. Previously he had compared it to his time in West America, he now doesn’t think it’s too comparable. The vegetation is bright and green, most of it coming from incoming crops and lively trees.

Within an hour your grandfather stopped at a town, it was time for breakfast. Both raved about the food despite how spicy it was while you and your grandmother made fun of them. Jaehyun took this chance to take more pictures, candid ones of you and your family with the prettiest decoration in the background. Every memory counts.

Afterwards, you all take a moment to explore the quaint town for a bit, simply so Jaehyun can get some souvenirs. It reminded him of two past towns he’s visited during his time here. One where he had to fight for a seat to be able to eat. Meal which ended up being one of the most disgusting things he’s ever had. He won’t ever tell the rest of you that but you share his sentiment. The second one being where your grandpa struggled to find parking and almost left. He likes that one better.

It’s not to say this town isn’t beautiful, it is. It’s historical, colorful, and calm. Very calm and quiet, something that reminds him of the best village which is where he resided for the past few months. How he loves it there and he’ll hold it to his heart.

Getting his pictures and souvenirs, it was set to take another two hours on the road, only stopping when having to use the restroom which unfortunately due to age is something your grandparents needed often. In those moments Jaehyun would reminisce on the day you two took those photos and bought Ollie’s truck, the one he saw daily perched next to the fine china in the cabinet with a passport picture of him.

“Well here we are, the city I was born in.” Your grandfather’s voice made sure to take away the last bits of drowsiness from you. Your last visit was at fifteen and from the looks of it, nothing had changed. It’s amazing for Jaehyun to tell how different life was between the countryside and the city. The moment you all came to see the skyscrapers and bridges, it felt like a totally different part of the world. It was louder, much more polluted and littered, but for sure not horrendous. Your grandfather made sure to tell him the story of this city like he had done for every village and town visited.

For the majority of the day you all spent it looking around. At the entrance, your grandparents pushed you to ride on the cableway that dropped you off directly downtown. You tried to make them get in it with you both but they excused themselves with being too old and preferring to meet you there with the car. You all knew it was so you and Jaehyun could spend a couple of minutes alone.

“It’s pretty.” “Not as pretty as home.”

Jaehyun smiles at you, taking your hand into his. You return the gesture, squeezing his warm hand in yours.

“Is your city pretty? I’ve heard it is.”

“I’m not talking about where I’ll go back, Y/n. I’m talking about back home. With you, your grandparents, and Ollie.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder to pull you closer. Within you and the colorful buildings beneath, Jaehyun is sure to say the view during his time has always been beautiful.

“Do you truly want a life with me?” You shift, close yet with a distance. It was a simple answer, there’s no reason to lie. His smile, dimples, eyes, and even his reddened ears told you he did. Words are preferable though. “Yes.” leaves his rosy lips, kissing you to imprint the confirmation.

Only time will tell how true to his word he is.

You met your grandparents shortly, both bickering about where to reside when night befalls. The topic fell to deaf ears, prefering to explore more about the city. Murals that he wouldn’t forget, traffic as bad as where he resides with the exception that entertainment began the second redlights turn on. Street food that smells delicious and calls his name within every second.

It’s similar yet so distinct from what he has learned to love. It’s clear to him that no matter how familiar you are to one thing, there will always be more to learn about it.

It was near dinner time and within an hour or two from sundown. That forced your grandparents to argue again about the same thing from earlier. This time you two got to learn that your grandfather wanted to rest in his childhood home with his family while your grandmother wanted to avoid that at all costs. She’ll tolerate a visit but won’t give them the benefit of being their host, that’s her role. Not to mention she won’t forget all their wrongdoings towards her and her husband no matter how much the latter attempts to have a happy family.

Words thrown here and there, you all decree to eat out. Both you and your grandmother brought up the time his sister cooked unhygienically that he ended up having a stomach bug for the following three days. He laughs at this and leads you all to your favorite spot, somewhere Jaehyun yearns to taste again for years to come.

You all do end up visiting his family before the sun falls, a quick in and out situation. Jaehyun didn’t pay too much attention to the conversations, he was more entranced with the portraits on the walls and the cracks of chipped paint that told the story of this home.

“Why do you keep looking at the cracks?”

Your voice forces Jaehyun to turn to you, extending his hand to feel your warmth. “Do you think they’re due to poor care or the house growing old with its inhabitants? Your grandpa said he doesn’t recall the ones from this wall.” Your head tilts, looking at them as if you two were in a museum. Perhaps you should take him there tomorrow before his departure.

“Will you write that in your book?” He laughs, taking you into an embrace. “Okay smarty pants how do you word it normally, then?” You return the gesture. “I wouldn’t even think about it for starters, there’s so many back home. Why would I care about this one?”

“I’ve seen how much care you all give the home, there’s barely any cracks. The question is answered for that house.”

“Then… I guess you can find an answer for this one. We’ve been here for an hour or so and there’s plenty more people living here who haven’t greeted them at least.”

You both turn to your grandparents. Grandma sitting silently and aggravated in the corner with a cup of water that she hasn’t touched. Your grandfather enjoys his talk with his sisters despite their spouses talking over and for them. His nephews and nieces, nowhere seen but heard through these same cracks Jaehyun wonders so much about.

Yes, he has his answer. A house without love crumbles faster.

The sun had fallen sooner than expected and with that your grandmother finally found an excuse to leave. The other elders offered to let you all stay with no avail when even your grandfather told them it wasn’t necessary. He knew of a nearby hotel, clean, and hospitable that you could all stay at and his wishes were final.

Immediately as the doors were closed behind your backs, the ruckus of the other four families living there could be heard. It’s clear as day where their intentions laid and why not a single picture of you or your family was on their walls.

When questioning why he denied their offer knowing other times he’d agree immediately, he only muttered a simple: “They didn’t even greet you or Jaehyun. What kind of hosts will they be?” Jaehyun felt a part of the family.

Room distribution went as follows. Your grandfather and Jaehyun would share a room, each with their own bed. Same thing applied to you and your grandmother, a concept you knew too well. This was the first and final night in which you two wouldn’t share a kiss through the bathroom window. You miss it like you’ll miss him.

The following morning isn’t as kind to either of you. The previous day none of you were able to process the severity that it was his final day with all of you. Enamored with what the city offered and the warmth of feeling loved by everyone within the circle, no one felt the harsh reality that is now overcoming you all. There’s ten hours left of his stay.

Silence is the first thing that you all notice, no matter how hard you all try to erase it. Being aware that time is ticking weighs down on your shoulders. Walking through these streets feels slightly surreal. Like a Dali painting, walking through a sea of melting clocks. A torment is what he’d call it.

He manages to get a few more souvenirs, he’s not sure for who or if he’s trying his best to collect every single piece as a memory, he’ll lean towards the latter. Besides, he snags some final gifts for you, your family, and even Ollie, it’s the least he can do besides memories. He’ll be taking those and who knows when he’ll be able to show them to you all.

Within the fifth hour your grandparents rendered themselves tired and tried forcing you two to go on your own. Jaehyun didn’t want that, as much as he loves time with you, he also loves spending time with them. The two have taught him many things, brought many laughs and anecdotes he cherishes dearly.

To be maintained happy, he invites you all to a final dinner. It’s much earlier than usual but he would miss his flight if you’d have to wait till usual hours. Your grandparents attempt to protest, claiming they’re bad hosts if they let him pay but they’re fighting a losing battle and Jaehyun will make sure he can grant them everything before he goes back to reality.

It’s by far enjoyable and it helps him reminisce on all previous meals within those cold adobe walls he loved since day one. It’s dim in the restaurant, recalling the time it rained so hard the streets became rivers and light went out for the remainder of the day. You all ate under candle light while your grandparents told scary stories of the village.

Dinner was the only condition for you to leave your grandparents to rest. With all the heaviness in his heart, Jaehyun fulfilled their wishes. And while you thought it was best to leave them at the hotel, the two continued their stubborn streak and ended up sitting at a park to people-watch. Naturally, they needed live entertainment.

Three and a half hours left, so little time and so much left to do.

You essentially were a tourist just as him, both experiencing new attractions that you only saw in passing the one time you came by. It led to both jumping from museum to museum. National and independent, art and history, for food and tools. It didn’t matter but it filled the empty space and the forced silence helped neither of you spill what flooded your minds.

“I liked the tools museum better.” You retort, almost skipping down the steps to avoid the sun rays. It was much hotter than it ever had been back in town. “Really? I thought the history museum was really nice.” He covers his eyes, rushing to your side. “Nothing Pa hasn’t told you.” He nods, shrugging with a little shimmy to his shoulders.

He looks at his watch and sighs, there isn’t much time left. “Where to next?” His words form a pit in your stomach, forcing yourself to look at the numbers on it. You ignore it, dawning on you that you’ve never spoken in-depth about his job. What’s your thought process when coming up with your books?”

He hums, “For my first books, they were all inspired by cases I heard back home. Where I was born. They’re bleak but there’s still a sense of hope. On top of it I read a lot of Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy growing up so I felt like a cynic comparing both their work, trying my best to create a middle ground that would represent me.” He cocks his head, it’s a bitter taste to him these days.

“Those two lead to my last two. I’m not fond of them, I won’t lie. They’re rushed and robotic, it’s noticeable in the tone but the publishing house wanted something fast and since they sold well, they didn’t care about how I felt, that’s why I’m here now. They wanted this book to be rushed and as miserable as those but I can’t handle writing anything of the sorts anymore. I would’ve ended up like Plath, Hemingway or Dazai if I wrote about how miserable life is once again.”

Jaehyun couldn’t understand if the look on your face was pity or empathy, he didn’t want to see it. “Don’t worry about this one. I’ve found meaning and great inspiration. I’ll dedicate it to you.”

You laugh against his lips, pulling away to kiss his cheek. “How will I know when it’ll come out?” He shrugs, kissing your hand. “I don’t either but I’ll make sure to deliver the copy straight to you.”

“What makes you think I’ll still be here by the time it’s published?”

Jaehyun was under the impression that you’d be here too. Your grandmother had reassured him they would always have their doors and arms open for him but he never thought that meant without you.

“I’ll find my way to you even if I have to go to the end of the world so I can read the token of my adoration for you.”

‘Of my love’ is what he wants to say, hanging on his tongue yet too scared to dive out. You seem to read his mind, kissing him instead to swallow what neither of you can say just yet.

There was still some time left but nothing else worth seeing. Perhaps it was best to gather all your belongings from the hotel, you had the keys to the car and it shouldn’t take you too long. By this point it would be best to waste time at the airport, as dreaded as it is.

Upon arrival time made itself present. The father clock in the lobby allows its ticking to echo through the tiles that you love. The ones in each room weren’t any better. Screaming far louder than the rest that when Jaehyun finished packing his and your grandfather’s bag to make way towards your room, all he could hear was the ringing in his ears. Dreadful and painful as the feeling in his heart.

He watched you look through the night stands, making sure your grandmother’s medication wasn’t left behind. He had done the same for your grandfather, his medicine case tucked inside his bag. There’s a forlorn look in his eyes, you don’t miss it when turning to smile at him, comfortingly. You want to ask about it but fear it will consume you as well if you dwell on it.

“Ready?”

Jaehyun shakes his head, joining you on the bed and taking you in a tight embrace. In every sense he wasn’t ready to part ways. You try to laugh it off, kissing his cheek and tightening your grip. Your hands caressing his back to bring some type of comfort but it does the opposite.

Jaehyun can now understand why your grandfather breaks down so easily. The weight of one’s emotions are soon to leave when you allow yourself to be free. That may also explain why he’s always so joyful, he’s free of all his grievances but for Jaehyun it will follow him for eternity if things are not fixed as soon as possible.

“This isn’t the last time, Jaehyun… Please don’t cry.” You cradle his face, wiping away his tears that shine like diamonds under the sun rays peeking in through the window. He hiccups, sniffling to control his sobs. “It doesn’t change how difficult it is to say goodbye.” He pouts, lips so rosy and puffed. You kiss them tenderly for comfort and warmth, it’s the least you could do. Words aren’t your forte and you don’t want him to see how gutted you truly are despite trying to hold a front all this time.

Jaehyun returns the actions of affection, holding you for dear life while kissing you like no tomorrow. Muffled words leave him, incoherent to you yet you swallow them. Like the blood of Christ, you don’t let a blood drop if it means your salvation.

“I-I” He attempts to sound what he wants to say, you don’t allow him. Shaking your head fervently, slipping your tongue in the cavity of his mouth to mute him further. You know what he wants to say but if he does, it will make things far more difficult than they already are.

Jaehyun submits to your cowardice and lets the ticking of the clocks guide him. His hands hold your body near him, pulling you onto his lap to feel you closer. He wants more and so do you, God knows when you’ll meet again.

Fingers threading through his hair, sliding down to his neck, kneading the warm skin you love so much. The actions lead to silent mewls to leave his lips for you to take. You’re so appreciative of the gift that you deepen the kiss, letting his hands roam under your blouse to feel you closer and closer. It’s your turn to gift him a sweet sound that he wishes he could trap into a music box for him to wind and listen to it on repeat daily.

Jaehyun decrees that your blouse is in the way. Too thick and cold, nothing like your skin as he feels now. His large hands take a firm grip of the textile, pulling it off. You’re exposed and he can read what your heart has hidden all this time. Jaehyun prefers to kiss it away, his pillowy lips delicately falling against your chest. Kissing it tenderly to create more of those pretty sounds that hypnotize him.

You hold him while he does, kissing the crown of his head. Granting him what he wants while your hips softly rock against his, friction forcing him to become rougher. A soft gasp leaves your lips when he softly nips the goosebump filled skin, nimble fingers undoing your brazier. One hand covering one while his teeth take your nipple in between them.

“Jaehyun…” It’s all he wanted to hear. His tongue is warm against your tit, kissing it like his life depends on it. Perhaps it does, neither of you are sure but prefer to act like so. You on the other hand work on unbuttoning his shirt, the cool linen doing no justice to the warmth of his skin that you crave. Little by little you both feel closer to each other.

He gently lays you down, between the warmth of your bodies and the sunrays witnessing your farewell ritual, the cold had nothing against you. You watch him, admiring every crevice of his body while pushing off your bottoms, leaving you bare for him to gawk at while unbuttoning his pants.

Your giddy smile teasing him to hurry, giggles reinforcing the sentiment. Taking his shaft in between his warm hands, Jaehyun begins to pump slowly. You attempt to replace his hands with your own which he denies. Your touch will send him overboard without even beginning.

Instead he crawls on the bed and over you, kissing you like he always does. With sweet adoration and love, one you take thankfully. You make sure to cradle his face, his upper body in contact with yours as his fingers thread closer in between your legs. The digits waltz around your inner thighs, reminiscing on the path you and him often took to the plaza and market for your daily shopping trips.

He smiles into the kiss, the memories of all he’s experienced with you consuming him. The position alone brings him to that day at the hot spring where you two began this but never got to go further. The wait was over and he had you here. Caged between his arms, flesh against flesh, warmth radiating and your pretty sounds that he couldn’t get enough of.

Slowly his fingers intrude the cavern between your legs, a gasp leaving your lips that helped him deepen the kiss. His tongue enters your mouth, finding yours immediately to participate in a waltz where the two could share the words that neither of you were strong enough to share. His fingers curl and pump languidly within you. The action is so foreign and long forgotten that you feel like putty beneath him.

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, warm breath danced across his skin. Lips perfectly wrapping around the flesh of his red earlobe. He’s so sweet and easy to digest, you wish to swallow him so he never leaves you but you know that can’t be so you will make do with what these few minutes can bring to you.

It’s not far off that he takes his fingers out of you, sticking his tongue out to savor you. Just as sweet as you find him. He moans in delight, rubbing off the dripping essence on his throbbing cock that had earlier been rubbing up against your leg. Jaehyun looks directly at you while pumping himself once again. You no longer look playful but rather hungry and desperate. You needed him like one would need air. Like an addict needs their fix and you fear yours will be taken away from you once you’re both done. The ticking clocks are making it boldly aware.

His eyebrows turn up, eyes softening as if asking if you’re ready. You nod as a response, replacing his hand and continuing his strokes, dragging him downwards slowly in the process. He knew if you touched him he would be thrown overboard, he’s near it but he’ll try to last just for you. And for the sake to excuse being together for longer.

Jaehyun fixed his position above you, nudging your legs minimally to fit between them. He went in slowly, bit by bit. Avoiding any discomfort that he could bring you. You pay him with pleasured moans and kisses to shut yourself up, he graciously takes them.

“I–” he wants to say it, he wants to tell you how much he loves you. This feels like the perfect time. You shot him down again with that sweet smile of yours, shimming your hips to which he responds by beginning his thrusts. They’re gentle and steady, enough to make you feel something that you’re only able to describe through silent mewls. He holds you tightly, pulling one of your legs above his hip. Jaehyun tries everything to feel you closer, he wants to go deeper and deeper to no avail, his thrusts can only go so far and it makes him yearn for the possibility that he could have more of you but so little time and resources to figure it out.

Jaehyun can’t believe this is it. He’s thankful this is the memory of you he’ll take with him, he’ll cherish it with every fiber in him, treasuring it like one would the eucharist. All he could think about was how wonderful you felt and how perfect your body molds to his. If this isn’t a sign that you’re meant for each other then he doesn’t know what is.

He worships you in these moments and will continue to do so when he’s gone. He now understands the feeling devotees feel when finding their God and as sacrilegious as it is, Jaehyun’s mind won’t change. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you…

And most of all you feel his love within you. It manifests itself through tears streaming down your cheek, moans muddled with sobs that he can’t decipher to stop and comfort you or continue his thrusts. You answer for him, begging him to keep going, that you’re so close but he knows there’s more to those words besides lust.

He prods, kissing you, being the one to beg this time to let him know what was wrong but you smile and kiss him along. Leaving a trail of kisses along his jugular and shoulders, hands grasping to his flesh for dear life.

“My sweet girl.. Please tell me what’s wrong? Y/n, I lo–” “I love you, I love you, I love you! I love you, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun’s thrusts speed with every repeated word, elated to hear you say what he has wanted to all this time. To hear you spew the words he finally had the courage to let out. For you to hear and engrave in your heart and brain the way he has done so with your own.

He smiles, kissing you with a final thrust. Pulling out to place the proof of his love on your cramping stomach, the pain leaving when you, yourself release. Without a care for the mess, he lays on you, craving your warmth and touch.

“I love you too. More than you’ll ever know or understand.” The whisper pollutes the room, kissing you to cement the sentiment. You sigh, kissing the crown of his head, cradling his body against yours. If it was up to you, you would not mind dying like this. With the city’s racket as background noise, your heart palpitating against his ear, and his breathing the anecdote to tranquilize you.

Time wasn’t forgiving, his departure time was coming sooner than ever. Reluctantly, both pull away for a quick shower. It felt surreal how slow time felt when enthralled within the love you both had for each other but when reality hit, it rushed you all through the motion. Picking up your grandparents from the park, driving in silence to the airport while dealing with some traffic and the static of the radio. All of this just to arrive at the airport with minutes to spare and for the universe to not understand the pain you all felt.

It’s surreal how cruel and love can be.

“I guess this is it, huh?” Jaehyun is the first to break the silence, holding back his sobs, the redness of his nose and ears give him away. Your grandfather laughs, nodding as he takes him into a hug in which both men break down in a fit of cries. Your grandmother gives you a look, she wants to say something snarky but her tough exterior proves futile when even she feels a weep stuck in her throat.

“You’ll contact us, right?” Your grandfather wipes his nose, sniffling while smiling warmly at the younger. Jaehyun nods, taking out his pocket book, scribbling his address for you all to send him letters. He doesn’t need yours, he has it saved by memory.

Your grandmother is second in hugging him, slipping in a bill for him to buy something back home. Both know it’s useless where he’ll go but he’ll cherish it as a memory from her just like the box of cigarettes your grandfather had gotten him. He doesn’t smoke but a token of love is a token of love.

The elder woman pats his cheek, smiling at him tenderly. She hopes this isn’t the last time she’ll see him but she more so than anything hopes he doesn’t disappoint you after this departure.

“Take care.”

It leaves you at last. No more to say, no more actions to show. You just hope he comes back to you as promised.

“I’ll miss you.” Your fingers fiddle with the paper in hand, his pretty handwriting hypnotizing you to believe this moment isn’t real.

“I love you.” That’s enough to call your attention. His palm cradles your face and he steals a quick tender kiss. Embarrassment of having done so in front of your grandparents floods you, you only hope they understand which they do.

“I love you too…”

You had all drowned the calling from the greeter at the door earlier on but things had to be done and reluctantly you both let go. Watching him enter that path had taken a piece of you and when he was out of view, your entire body felt like it would crumble.

You tried your darndest to not cry. To not show your grandparents how much his departure was hurting you. Futile is what they would call it, your sobs were becoming louder as your grandfather drove back home, hoping to get there before night caught up to you all.

Nothing good ever comes out of crying. You’ve known this for a while, for you and your grandmother crying only continues to further make you miserable. Not like the relief it brings your grandfather and Jaehyun, that’s something you think you’re both cursed on.

It wasn’t too far on the road that you kept missing him. Regretting not carrying the film strip with pictures of you both to look at him at every moment now. Your only token of his existence came from the piece of paper between your fingers. Flapping around with the harsh air coming in from your grandfather’s rapid driving.

You believe it smells like him, Jaehyun’s soft musk that you love with all your being. It’s even warm from his grasp, and his pretty handwriting taunts you, letting you know it was permanent on it unlike with you. The paper will remember Jaehyun’s actions against it, it has proof, not like you who will rot at the fact that his actions can be erased easily. What’s worse is that the paper continues to torture you, freeing itself from your fingers and flying out of the car at a rate that even if your grandfather stops you won’t catch up to it nor find it.

“No!”

Your words are useless and frightening to be heard from the elders who question what happened. You tell them between sobs, losing all composure. Hunching over yourself to cry against your knees. This was it, you knew it was too good to be true. Your only hope relies on the letter Jaehyun will send you.

Letters that will never arrive.

Questions. There’s plenty of those that have plagued Jaehyun’s mind since he left. He remembers leaving on great terms but as the months progressed his letters were left unanswered. If he had taken in the home phone number or Gabby’s he’d call for them years ago. Instead he found himself at the front door of the place he once called home with a panic rushing through his blood stream but hopeful nostalgia in his heart.

There was a doorbell outside of the patio door, it had been painted orange. Very fluorescent, it reminded him of Gabby’s store. He had passed by it on his way here, buying a few beers like the day he learnt he had to go back. She didn’t remember him and he made no effort to remind her. Some things are better left in the past.

He didn’t hear many animals inside and it worried him, scared of how much change had been done. It took a couple of minutes for the door to be answered. Received by the presence of a kid he didn’t know but seemed to be around three years old.

“Who?” He looks at Jaehyun quizzically, tilting his head like Ollie used to do. “Um… is Mr. and Mrs–” “Don’t open doors, how many times do I have to tell you that!”

Well there’s a voice he recognized. Jaehyun stood up straight, looking up from the kid to the owner of the voice. When both took in the image of the other, Ollie was the first to take Jaehyun into an embrace. So much giddiness and joy in his squeal that he felt like that nineteen year old again. Even his grasp is childish and brute, shaking Jaehyun around. Jaehyun laughs, squeezing Ollie in return.

“I didn’t think you’d ever come back! When did you get here?” The patio looked the same. Fewer sheep and goats in the pen, Camila was gone and replaced with a pig. The dogs were strangers to him and the cats seemed to have forgotten him just like the chickens.

Ollie led him to the kitchen, at least that remained the same and he felt comforted by that fact. The two took a seat not far from each other, firewood crackling in the chimney to bring them warmth. Jaehyun handed him a beer bottle, cheering for his return and Ollie’s growth.

“Why didn’t you think I’d return? I promised you all I would.” Jaehyun smiles, wiping away the alcohol residue from his lips. Ollie shrugs, doing the same. “You never kept in contact so after a few months of not getting your letters we lost hope. I was really mad at you for the longest time… I thought you had just abandoned us… Y/n.”

Jaehyun is aware of the spite in his tone but he can’t help but feel vindicated for something that isn’t true. His eyebrows furrow, leaning over the table for Ollie to feel his confusion. The younger one tilts his head like the boy from earlier.

“Ollie, I kept sending letters nearly every week for the past five years. I thought you all were the ones to leave me in the cold. What do you mean I didn’t keep in contact?” The roles seemed to have reversed. Ollie mimicked Jaehyun’s stance, elbows on the table while downing the remains of his drink.

“We never got a single letter. Pa was so disappointed he cried often about it. Ma didn’t but it was obvious in the way she took care of her plants. Your departure was enough but you really hurt them after that, they saw you as a son, you know.” Ollie shakes his head, swatting a fly away to avoid looking at Jaehyun.

“And Y/n… you really ruined her, Jaehyun. She would spend days in your room hoping to find an address or a phone number. At least to reproach your actions but instead she would cry herself to sleep in there. Her parents had to take her back home after a year, so she found a job and Ma and Pa were taken in by their daughter. She was doing better by then but still had to stay in the city just in case. They left me to take care of the house but it’s not the same.”

Ollie’s voice is no longer harsh, it’s hurt. Jaehyun can’t help but blame himself with how things unfolded but he was sure he wrote those letters. He kept copies of them to recall everything he once said to you and them and if he had known you never received them, he would’ve bought them.

“I-I…” He sighs, “I promise I sent the letters! I made sure to drop them off at the publishing house’s mailing room. I can’t believe this…” His hand comes to his forehead but Ollie shrugs, picking at some peanuts he had laying around. “Beats me then. Why didn’t you visit in that case? We waited long enough.”

Reality is that there will always be evil lurking around and seeing how this place brought you joy and peace, the publishing house did everything in their power to yank it away from him. Jaehyun isn’t a bubbling author full of life and hope. No, Jaehyun is a bleak cynical writer who dwells on the hatred he has for the house and manifests it through broody characters that find no meaning in life. If they had to bring that back, they would. He can have his one train wreck of a joyful book but newcomers have to go back to what they were.

Jaehyun’s head hangs low, all excuses feeling useless. “Manger and publisher didn’t let me. We spent two years editing the final draft and by the following, publishing was in the works but the investors tried everything to change it that we had to fight for another year or so. I wasn’t even allowed to visit my parents, they had to come to me. Isn’t that insane?”

Ollie nods, sympathy and pity muddling on his face. Cruelty at its finest.

“We only traveled for promotions at the end of last year once it was published and some months after this one but I ‘escaped’ if you will and here I am.” His smile twists to the side, dawning upon him that misery will accompany him everywhere he goes.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? It’s not your fault.” Jaehyun hands him another bottle. Ollie nods, “I know, but things could’ve been different if you didn’t work in hell.”

The two laugh, clinking their bottles again. All was lost but one thing and that was the hope of Ollie helping him connect with you and explain it all. He didn’t want you to have such a bad image of him when all he’s ever done is show you how much he loves you.

“What have you done with your life then?” “I got married and had a kid. The brat from out there.”

The kid had been playing with the hens outside the sprint door. Cats surrounded him and reminded Jaehyun of Ollie when he used to play with the animals while pretending to be doing labor work.

“Looks just like you.” The younger hums. “He’s just like me too.” The two laugh heartily, reminiscing on your grandfather’s laugh.

He hesitates for a moment but ultimately asks. “How’s Y/n doing?” There’s longing in his voice but the look in Ollie’s eyes tells him something isn’t right. The fact that he’s holding back a cough, a grave clue. The younger one wants to stall but knows that eventually he’ll find out if he keeps looking.

“Y/n is soon to get engaged…” Like a bucket of cold water, Jaehyun feels his arteries clog and his body run cold, turning stone hard. “She’s been seeing a guy from work for the past two years, they relocated him to somewhere in Maranello, and now they’re living there. He sent a letter asking me to be there for when he proposes… I got the letter yesterday actually.”

Ollie handed him the letter still inside the envelope. “He’s a nice guy but lacks some sense. He treats her well and provides for her but I’m not sure if it’ll thrive.”

The now father stands up with a bucket of corn kernels, calling his child to feed the chickens while they’re all huddled together. He gives Jaehyun one last look with a mischievous smile plastered on his face.

“You’re welcome to stay, in your old room or here.” Jaehyun thanks him. “Landline has long overseas calls now, do with that as you will.” A toothy reassuring grin, Ollie walks out of the home leaving Jaehyun to his vices.

He gives the boys one last look, gaze dropping to the letter and reading over it around four times. It lacks emotion, it’s formal and only demonstrates excitement when describing your work on the garden. The only thing that reminds you of this place now that you’re miles away. Behind it is a letter written by you.

‘Very well, I’ll send you a care package later, Ollie. I wanted to remind you that we have a new phone so I’ve written it down. Don’t forget to write it down in the contact book or you’ll have to find a way to call me this time!

I love you, Gremlin, take care!

Sincerely, Y/n.’

If the angels weren’t clear as day, then he was stupid if he didn’t take the opportunity.

Jumping out of his seat to the bar, Jaehyun stumbles to grab the phone, nothing like Gabby’s old dinky phone. He dials the foreign numbers, fingers tracing over your written name to feel the connection you did with the paper that lasted you a measly few hours.

“Hello?”

That sweet voice transported him five years to the past. Trembling within the walls of his brain and heart, waking up whatever joy he once felt before leaving this wonderful place. Even when your voice seemed aggravated from the silence on his end while garnering courage, he felt alive again.

“Hello?!”

He sighs, clutching to the phone for dear life, facing the outside allowing the sun rays to fall on him like the day he rested over your exposed body to feel your heart and soul envelop him in the love you once –and he hopes you still have– had for him.

“Y/n–” “...”

The hesitance hurts, old feelings swarming in like a desired plague. You won’t ever forget that voice.

“Jaehyun…” “I remember everything.”

#kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #kvanity #jaehyun smut #jung jaehyun #nct smut #jaehyun #jaehyun x you #jaehyun x reader #nct u smut #nct 127 smut #nct 127 #nct #nct fic

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jobean12-blog · 2 months

Text

Falling First

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female!princess! reader

Word Count: 1,842

Summary: It's your first time meeting the General and he leaves a lasting impression.

Author's Note: I'm having so much fun writing about these two and I'm so so thankful that others are enjoying it as well! Thank you for the continued support, it means so much! If you want to read the other stories they are all on my Pedro ML below, but this can be a stand alone. I wanted to write something for their initial meeting and I loved incorporating the book/poetry stuff! I have an idea for what comes next too! Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 😘

PS- If you would like to read the poem I reference you can do so HERE: It's called 'Be Patient" by Horace from his collection of books 'The Odes'

Warnings: The General should come with a warning of his own, tension, soft moments, mentions of battle and blood, poetry.

Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist

You're so absorbed in the words on the page that you almost don’t hear the burst of blaring voices as they ring out in cheer. On a gasp you sit up and press the book to your chest, grabbing the edge of your chair when your feet feel the vibrations of the stone beneath.

Forcing your feet to move you rush to the window and look out, shielding your eyes from the bright sun as it glints off the gold armor adorning the man that approaches. You can’t see much more but you know you should not be hidden away in the library.

Just when you walk out onto the portico, he ascends the last step and stands imposingly, addressing the royal family with a warm smile and a slight tilt of his head.

He catches your eye, and his gaze lingers before he greets the emperor. As if in a trance you move closer, slipping past the guards to get a better look.

As he speaks you watch him, noting the way his large body moves with precision and his dark eyes seem to consider everything that surrounds him.

His eyes flit back to you when he catches you staring, and you see the corner of his mouth lift slightly but as quickly as it happens his attention is elsewhere and you’re clutching your book more tightly to your chest.

You try to look away, but you’re completely captivated. The gold crown that sits atop his hair gleams against his dark curls and his tanned skin glistens in the heat of the sun. As your eyes wander down his broad back your breathing quickens, and you dare to drop your gaze lower.

His legs are thick and strong, spread wide to match the width of his shoulders, and when he turns to face you, his large and strong hands are clasped gently at his waist.

You hear your name being called but it seems distant and it’s not until your father steps into your line of sight that you’re shaken from your trance.

“General Marcus Acacius,” the emperor says, “this is my daughter.”

His penetrating gaze sweeps over you and he smiles while extending his hand.

You continue to stare until your father loudly clears his throat then remember yourself. He takes your hand in his and you feel warmth spread along your skin and when he lifts your fingers to his lips your breath catches in your throat.

“Princess,” he hums before brushing his mouth along the back of your hand. “A pleasure.”

“General Acacius,” you answer, your voice barely above a whisper.

He’s still holding onto your hand when his eyes fall to the book you grip in your other arm.

“May I?” he asks.

You look down, just now remembering you even had it. With an audible swallow you pass it to him. He drops your hand slowly and you mourn the loss of his touch.

“The Odes,” he murmurs as he reads the title. “A poetry lover?”

“I am,” you reply, waiting as he carefully thumbs through the book.

“Ah, here it is,” he says and takes a step closer.

He shows you the page with a poem titled “Be Patient,” and you give him a questioning look.

His head lowers until his warm breath tickles your ear.

“One of my favorites,” he whispers. “I would love to know what you think.”

When his eyes find yours once again, they are sparkling.

“You look surprised.”

You steal yourself and your eyes widen.

“No, not at all General Acacius. Forgive me. It is just…”

Your words trail off and you look down at your feet.

“Just what?” he asks, drawing your attention back to his face.

“I did not expect you to have a love for the written word.”

He huffs out a laugh.

“I have a love for many things and one of them happens to be poetry.”

You open your mouth to speak, hoping to correct your mishap and assure him you meant nothing demeaning but when he reaches for your free hand and kisses your knuckles the words die on your parted lips.

“I very much look forward to seeing you again, Princess.”

Your answer, filled with equal desire, is too quiet for him to hear but something in his expression tells you he knows exactly how you’re feeling.

You stare after him as he excuses himself and let out the breath you were holding then turn on your heel and run back to the library, already perusing the words on the page.

“Are you joining us for the entertainment?”

To your father’s question you lift your eyes from your book.

“Must I?” you ask.

Your father sighs. “If you wish to miss the General’s first fight then that is your own choice, but it will not look…”

“He is going to fight?”

The question rushes out of you and when your father’s eyes narrow you quickly compose yourself with an expected continuation of words.

“I did not realize that he would. I only thought he commanded the armies.”

“My sweet and naïve daughter. Perhaps if you spent less time reading about romance and love you would know more about what really goes on in this empire.”

You place your book down and stand, squaring your shoulder and lifting your chin.

“I will attend.”

As you follow your father you start to hear the deafening crowd, their cries ringing out in the hot open air and filling it with an ominous energy.

You sit and search the arena floor of the Colosseum and see nothing but gladiators.

“Where…?” You start to ask but the question dies on your lips when the crowd erupts into even louder chants.

The doors at the far end swing open and he walks out, his sword at his side. You watch with bated breath as he moves with powerful steps toward the line of gladiators. He lifts his sword to his shoulder and bows his head.

You barely notice the silence that now surrounds you, only hearing the heavy thumping of your heart as you wait and watch. Time seems to stand still before suddenly he lets out a battle cry and charges.

The sound of screams and clashing swords drift up to your ears and you try to track his movements, try to watch which weapon hits which man but it becomes too overwhelming, and you turn your eyes downward.

Your actions go unnoticed as your father is utterly entranced by the scene below, a wicked smile on his face.

It’s only when the crowd’s sound grows to an unbearable roar that you glance down into the arena to find the General standing tall, surrounded by the fallen gladiators.

“Oh, thank the gods,” you whisper.

Your father rejoices with those around him and then turns to you, smiling widely.

“Now that, my daughter, is a gladiator and the General of our armies!”

You nod in agreement and give him a small smile.

“Come! We must offer our congratulations and praise.”

Your father ushers you out of the Imperial Box and away from the crowds. When you’re back in the quiet of the palace you await General Acacius, your skin tingling and your heart still racing.

“Ah! There he is,” your father announces.

The General appears and steps forward, greeting your father. He’s immediately drawn into boisterous conversation, graciously accepting your father’s praise but always his eyes are drawn to you.

After what feels like forever the emperor walks off to continue his celebrating, leaving you and General Acacius alone.

You’re leaning against the cool stone wall when he steps into your space, filling it with the scent of Earth and the tang of blood.

“And what did you think of the entertainment today?” he asks.

You look up into his eyes, stray curls framing his face that’s still dusty with dirt and caked with smudges of dried blood, and your fingers itch to reach out and touch him.

“Do you want my honest answer?” you ask.

“Always Princess.”

“It was the first time I have ever witnessed a fight in the Colosseum. It was…difficult to watch.”

You look down, realizing that your words may come off as offensive and dig your teeth into your bottom lip.

Rough and calloused fingers graze your chin as he presses his fingers under it and lifts your eyes to his. He studies you, his eyes dropping to your lips before rising again.

“You came today…for me.”

It’s not really a question and you can see the light of triumph in his gaze.

“Yes,” you breathe out. “Although most of the time I was looking at my feet.”

His thumb delicately brushes your bottom lip.

“And why is that?”

“It is terrifying! I could barely keep up with you. One second, you’re here then there…swords are swinging- the screaming- the blood!”

Your words spill out louder than intended and by the time you finish talking you’re breathing more heavily.

“You need not worry for me Princess. I assure you I can handle anything they throw at me.”

He steps closer and you press yourself into the wall.

“Who said I was worried?”

For the first time you see a real smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

It’s hard not to smile back and you find yourself giggling, the sound ringing out in the large hall. It only makes his own smile grow.

His fingers ghost along your jawline and he cradles your cheek in his hand. “Have you read the poem?”

“I have.”

“And you will give me your honest opinion of course.”

“I loved it,” you tell him. “His words are full of restrained passion, and I find them very enchanting. But patience…I often find it difficult.”

His expression turns intense and his gaze wanders over your face.

“Yet it can bring such rewards,” he whispers.

He drops his head to your neck and lightly runs his nose along your skin, the motion making you tremble.

“General?” you sigh as your eyes flutter closed.

With a deep inhale his lips trail upwards and along your cheek. You dare not open your eyes and wait with your next breath stuck in your throat.

“Perhaps next time we can read it together?” he whispers against your mouth.

You nod and flatten your palms against his chest to steady yourself.

“Is that a yes Princess?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, opening your eyes.

His lips hover just above yours and he tucks his thumb under your chin, tilting your face so he can press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth. His lips linger, savoring the feel and taste of your skin before he draws himself away.

“I will be counting the minutes until then,” he says with a bow.

You wait until he’s out of sight and slump against the wall, pressing your fingers to the spot where the feel of his lips still burns into your skin, and try to find balance in the dizzying new world around you.

@hiddles-rose @blackwidownat2814 @lizette50 @tripletstephaniescp

#pedro pascal #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x y/n #marcus acacius x female reader #marcus acacius fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #general acacius #gladiator 2 #marcus acacius x princess!reader

416 notes · View notes

two-white-butterflies · 3 months

Text

★ — imgonnagetyouback | max verstappen

Description: Max ends the relationship with a phone-call.

Pairing: actress!reader/max verstappen

Disclaimer: Everything written in this fanfic holds no truth about anyone's personality or actions. It is made purely for entertainment.

A/N: everything i do used to be inspired by the 2014 ver. grimes. reader is unhinged as her, but gets development in the end!! THIS IS AN ODE TO THE "MONSTER" TITLED FIC I READ ABOUT LEE PACE.

"Let's break up."

Let's break up.

You could still hear the aftertaste of his voice on your ears. How nonchalant he sounded while denying a relationship of seven years. Why was he quick to leave? Did he find someone else?

You sniffled, wiping your snot with a tissue on your right.

I'm gonna get revenge.

yourname: me, the dogs and @edmundquandt

liked by 728,391 others

>comments

maxversworldargentina: huh isn't she dating max? did u break up?

reversethismess: Who is he?

victoriaverstappen: ❤️

Y/N L/N AND FORMULA ONE DRIVER, MAX VERSTAPPEN CONFIRM THEIR BREAKUP.

Yesterday UMG Inc. Agency released a statement to SSN confirming the breakup between Y/N L/N and her Formula One boyfriend.

The pair began to date each other in 2017, where Verstappen was accepted into Toro Rosso and Redbull Racing. They have been together for 7 years and have been dubbed as the most iconic couple in the Formula One paddocks.

Rumors between the two splitting emerged late March, however the couple affirmed that they were still dating each other. On December, however the netizens were greeted with radio silence.

According to L/N's team: the breakup was mutually agreed upon, as they grew apart from all the travelling required for their job.

>comments

grills93: I can't make it go away by making you a villain, I guess it's the price I pay for seven years in heaven.

lnworld: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO AND HER NEW INSTA POST WITH EDMUND???? NOOOOOOO

carshfo: she defo cheated with edmund bcs no way lol

Max's pulse was racing at the sight of you around another man's arms. Seeing your arms wrapped around his shoulders, leaning into him for balance as you laughed at a joke that wasn't funny at all. "- and then we found out that there wasn't a building in the hotel with those rooms." Edmund finished his joke.

By that time, you were already laughing uncontrollably.

Max clenched his jaw.

A piece of his heart regretted breaking up with you.

"Control yourself mate, he's a big investor." Yuri reminds.

Max didn't give a flying fuck. He didn't own any Redbull stocks. He's a good driver, this Edmund Quandt has nothing on him. His features only soften once he remembered the reason why he broke up with you. He wanted to focus more on his career. He wanted to test the pond for more fish.

He needed upgrades on his car.

Fuck.

He needed to chafe his knees for this guy.

"Funnily enough, when I was in Texas I had a similar encounter. I knew exactly what to do." Edmund placed a hand on the small of your back. Max prevents his eyelids from twitching.

Charles smiles, showing the crowd his dimpled cheeks. Charles always had the ability to charm other people. He was perfect, and now he's friends with Mr. Quandt whom he only met.

"I'm sorry for asking this Edmund, but are you two...?" Charles paused, allowing the other man to fill in the blanks. Edmund smiles - pearly white teeth and a godly physique.

Max doesn't fail to observe the glance that Edmund gives you, a look that asked for your permission.

"We're dating each other, for a month now - but we're still testing the waters." you chuckled, ignoring the presence of your ex-boyfriend despite his figure melancholily staring at you.

"I just want to put a ring on her." Edmund admits.

The other people fade into the background.

"My father always says, give her a ring with a big diamond so she won't be able to see how much of a monster you are." he teased.

"You're not a monster." your eyebrows merged into each other.

Max wanted to punch the air.

yournamepriv: i love this big baby 🥺 @e123456

liked by 92

>comments

haileybeiber: i love this for u omgg

sophierichiegrange: So cute ❤️🥺

e123456: You got my good side! - yournamepriv: Ur good side is 360 degs

Max takes a deep breath. Again.

You forgot to remove him as a mutual in your private account. And he was greeted by a picture of you kissing Edmund Quandt. His mind raced through a million different thoughts. Regret, anger, resentment - but they were mostly filled of regret.

He didn't appreciate what he got, and now it's gone.

maxandynfanbase: do you get deja vu? 😭

liked by lewishamilton and 72,192 others

>comments

mercyplease9: EDMUND IS SO TALL??

ohnoaosd9: lewis we can see u 💀

holyhell1: i like pic 2 more

yourname: visited some mangrove swamps with this big baby. 🥺your integrity makes me seem small... #savethemangroves tagged: edmundquandt

liked by maxverstappen, lewishamilton and 1,283,923 others

taylorswift: You and Edmund have the KINDEST heart. - yourname: thanks taytay i wanna see u and trav here next time - taylorswift: Will do! I'll tell you when my schedule clears up. - yourname: love u ❤️

haileybeiber: We love a momma who cares

sophierichiegrange: <3

"I can't believe she's out there helping the fucking mangroves." Max places his phone on the couch.

He couldn't believe your sudden change in tune, that drastic of a change to come from someone like you? "She used to complain being in the EU because it meant not using plastic straws." he breathed, still choosing to believe that you were like him.

Still the same crazy. Still the same stupid.

"She's really being fake for him." he shook his head.

yourname: i totes know how to play 🎾 this friday we're having an event for all the young racecar drivers that unfortunately can't afford to pursue the sport. all proceeds will go to @bmwfoundationsports and the @grandprixtrust !!

liked by edmundquandt and 1,283,912 others

>comments

edmundquandt: ❤️

CharlesLeclerc: Will be in attendance. 🫡

oracleredbullracing: We love a Queen with a good heart

maxverstappenupdates: Max Verstappen in @bmwfoundationsports and @grandprixtrust.

liked by kellypiquet and 23,392 others

>comments

youalloverme: HE LOOKS SO SAD...

maxismybf: Hadnsumm

posyposie: wondering if a dodged a bullet or just lost the love of my life

He takes another sip of his whiskey, forgetting about the cameras that snapped his figure left and right. There were a million things he wanted to say to you, but he wanted to start with a question.

"I never imagined seeing you change yourself for a guy." he scoffed.

You turned around with your eyebrows raised. Flabbergasted at his insinuation. "Change myself?" you repeated the word, finding it to be hilarious on his tongue.

"The whole save the earth, save the kids thing - you don't care about that. I understand though, money is money and your boyfriend has a lot of that." Max allowed the alcohol to speak in his behalf.

"You don't have the right to talk about me or my integrity. You abandoned me, remember?" you argued, feeling anger pulse through your veins.

Since he left, you tried to make yourself better.

"When I was with you, we were both horrible people. Quite literally the rich people cliche that we promised not to become. I guess you were right, we weren't growing together - and now I've become a better person without you - all because of Edmund." you gritted your teeth, grabbing the champagne on the table before the media realized that the 'ex-lovers' were talking to each other.

(PRE-EDMUND QUANDT.)

I'm gonna get revenge.

That night you planned to ruin his chance at winning by exposing a flaw in the car that would allow the other drivers to overtake him. A button outside of the car - with the engineers that could remotely turn off a key engine that allowed his car to move faster.

He told you about it because driving at that speed endangers his life, and if you were the only one in the administration panel that knew about it - he made it your duty to push that button.

You grabbed your laptop, sneaking inside the garage. "What are you doing?" a voice emerged from behind you, and you momentarily stopped with the program.

You turned around - only to be greeted with your ex-boyfriend, Edmund Quandt. A man that your parents adored. A man whom everyone thought was going to become your husband, and he was here - behind you. Looking at you.

"Just grabbing my things, I won't be here anymore." you lied. Despite your obvious lie, he chose to give you the benefit of the doubt. He always kinda chose to see the better side of a person, rather than thinking the worst of them first.

"Oh why is that?" he asked with a smile. "Because of things..." you evaded the question - not wanting to rant about your other ex-boyfriend that broke up with you because of a phone call.

"Are you done with grabbing your things?" his eyes narrowed.

"Oh yeah." you breathed.

You had to evade your plan of revenge.

"Do you want to grab some coffee?" he offered.

"Of course."

Max Verstappen I'm really sorry for doing that. Must be all the Whiskey I drank 😅

Y/N L/N Drunk actions are sober thoughts, Max

Max Verstappen I still shouldn't have confronted you It's just really weird seeing you post things like save the turtles, donate to the kids we never gave a fuck about those 😆

Y/N L/N Yeah, I didn't care about them But now I do We used to be the same but now we aren't

Max Verstappen ?

Y/N L/N You broke up with me because you wanted to focus on your career Because all you care about is money and success We both got stuck on that We didn't see the value in other things When we broke up, Edmund brought me back to earth Opened my eyes to the privilege we've been granted

Y/N L/N Take this as a warning Max The high life isn't gonna last forever

*blocked*

727 notes · View notes

kaybreezy3000 · 23 days

Text

A steaming hot and humorous deli Five story, and An Ode To All The Fives We’ve Loved Before.

Written by: @badkitty3000 and @kaybreezy3000

(Rated Mature for Sexually Explicit Content, 6976 words)

Note: All six reader inserts in this one were inspired by characters we wrote in our other stories about Five. But if you haven't read any of these stories, you can still easily enjoy this one. If you find that you want a little more of Five and any one of these lovelies, links will be provided at the end.

Heading across the subway platform towards the deli, Five heard the shrill squeal of a train coming into the station. Thinking it was going to be another version of himself showing up, he slowed his step, letting out a tired sigh. “Here we go again.”

Even before the train was fully stopped, he realized this wasn’t going to be one of his normally depressing encounters. There were six females inside one of the cars, all of them anxiously looking back at him standing under the warmth of the delicatessen's incandescent lights.

He was dumbstruck. There had never been anyone else besides himself on a train before.

His breath caught as the doors began to slide open.

“No way…” he gasped, looking at the girl in front who had a baseball bat slung over her shoulders, her body poised for a fight.

“Five!” she shrieked as she pushed the doors open, kicking one of them aside faster with the heel of one of her checkered patterned boots. Dashing towards him, her wooden bat fell to the ground with a resounding thunk as she threw herself into his waiting arms.

Just then, a loud bark echoed through the subway. Bursting out from between the other girls’ legs, a golden-haired dog bee-lined it for the door of the deli, just as another stunned Five threw it open. A fraction of a second later, that Five was stumbling backwards, getting knocked down by the wild beast. “I missed you too, buddy,” he laughed through his tears as his furry friend affectionately slobbered him.

Next to them, pink and blue pigtails swayed as the first Five lifted the girl in his arms, kissing her anywhere he could plant his lips. Loving it, her smile got bigger and bigger the more frantic he got, and she started giggling even more about it when she looked down at the pair on the ground. “I guess it was easy enough for Mr. Pennycrumb to figure out which one of you was his master. Just look at him…he’s so happy he and his daddy finally get to go home.”

“Home?” the deli’s Greeter Five questioned, sounding heartbreakingly confused as the rest of the girls on the train came past, worriedly making their way towards the welcoming lights of the restaurant, all of them hoping their Fives were there too.

Inside, Five was behind the counter, doing his usual inventory of ingredients for his famous pastrami sandwich when he looked up to see the most beautiful sight he’d seen in a very long time. He could hardly believe his eyes and it took him a few seconds to realize she was real.

Skidding around the corner from the kitchen while trying to hide the tears in his eyes, he grabbed his wife around her waist, reeling her in. With hands on each side of her face, he kissed her so desperately that he forgot to breathe. Finally, he pulled away, smiling lovingly as she started to cry.

“I can’t believe it’s really you. I’ve missed you so much, my love,” he choked out, stroking her cheek with his hand. “What are you doing here? When I ended up here, I thought I’d lost you and our entire world because our timeline was destroyed.”

“I missed you, too,” she breathlessly replied. “Things were a little all over the place with the timeline problem thing, but it’s okay now. We’re here to bring you home. I didn’t know there was an entire restaurant filled with you when I set out, but the girls and I ended up on the train together and it quickly became clear we were all in the same boat, and all of you were too. As crazy as all that is, when we realized where you all ended up, it was still a little surprising to say the least.”

“How did you even find this place? The odds of coming across it are astronomical.”

His wife rolled her eyes. “Really, Five? There’s like twenty of you here and not one of you can read a goddamn map? Together, the girls and I figured it out in about fifteen minutes.”

“Oh…” Five muttered.

She smiled and kissed his pouty face, pushing his dark hair off his forehead. “Well, it’s a good thing for you, and all these other boys, that before you got stuck here, you stole the hearts of the smartest, most badass women around because we’re here to save all your asses.” She looked around at all the Fives that looked like they were either about to have a breakdown or were in the middle of one. “And just in the knick of time, it seems,” she added.

While being devoured by the Five that had been previously pouring coffee, his girlfriend stopped him mid-kiss to say, “Hold on… you guys are stuck here because you don’t know how to read a map?”

“We know how to read maps,” her Five scoffed back. “We just don’t know how to read this particular map.”

With his head down as he rounded the corner from the kitchen, another Five came in carrying a bin of clean dishes. Irritated that nobody was helping him he said, “You don’t know your ass from a hole in the ground, Waiter Five, and hey Brisket, you may be a worthless genius like the rest of us, but you’re letting the sandwiches burn!”

“I don’t give a fuck about the sandwiches, you moron,” Brisket Five snapped back.

Brisket’s wife quirked a brow. “Brisket?” she questioned, letting his strange nickname roll off her tongue with seductive playfulness, only then just realizing her husband was wearing a chef’s apron.

“Are you surprised? You know I’m the king of the kitchen,” he said, giving her a cocky smirk.

Hearing the allure of the feminine voice questioning Brisket Five, the distracted bus-boy finally looked up, his eyes as wide as saucers.

“HOLY SHIT!” he gasped as the tub of plates in his hands hit the floor. Moving almost as fast as if he’d blinked, he leapt over the booth between him and the luminously pale girl that was grinning at him with two shiny tips of sharp white studding into her lower lip.

“Hey there, you little horny devil,” the cheeky looking vampire girl snickered as he slid up to her, his boyish mess of dark hair all over the place as his entire body shook like a leaf with excitement. “Five, sweetie, there’s so many of you here…”

Looking over at the lonely looking Five in the corner booth with his mannequin, the vampire’s fang descended a little more.

“Awww,” she cooed as she looked back at her own Five. “He’s so cute. He’s just like you were. Can I maybe have a little nibble on him, honey?”

“Hell no. I am the only abomination you get to suck on,” Bus-Boy Five dreamily replied, his soft green eyes luring her right back.

Interrupting their reunions, and their conversation about the map, the bathroom door flung open, and another Five carrying a mop came out, immediately directing his shock at the girl the Waiter Five was once again doing his best to suffocate with kisses. “Hey!” he yelled. “Are you that chick who used to fuck Klaus?

Tossing his mop in the supply closet, the Janitor Five moved in closer, plopping his butt down on the tabletop next to a Five who was sitting there, contemplatively shuffling a deck of cards as he watched the bizarre scene unfolding.

At the mention of Klaus, Waiter Five gave his girl one more peck, then a sly grin as he said, “Those guys don’t know the whole story. All they need to know is that the Hargreeves with the best dick won. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

The girl that ironically used to own a coffee house shook her head at her now-waiter boyfriend as she stretched up, planting a big kiss on his lips. “You could say that. Or, more accurately, I won. I’ve been missing a lot of things about you, including your dick,” she teased while pulling him by the belt loops until their hips were flush.

A few feet away, a shapely woman with jet-black hair slid into a booth. The bells on her red headband rung cheerfully as her bottom bounced on the vinyl seat. The familiar sound made the slumped down man that was sitting there lift his head.

“Oh, Five…what did you do?” she soothed as she snuggled up next to him while placing a gentle hand on his cheek.

He looked over, eyeing her up and down with a foggy expression before the light suddenly went on. His face immediately relaxed with relief. “Oh my god…it’s you! How are you here? Fuck. Did I die and go to heaven?”

She shook her head, the same chipper smile on her face, just like always. Leaning in to give him a tender kiss, Drunk Five’s angelic girlfriend placed a warm hand on his thigh. “I will explain all of that later. Right now I think we need to get you sobered up.”

Her Five nodded slowly, his eyes becoming misty. “I’m sorry, I went a little crazy with the booze again,” he admitted, gesturing to the bottle on the table. “I’ve been a mess since I lost you.” His gaze drifted downward to her low-cut top and the perfect tits that were spilling out. “Damn, I missed you.”

Leaning in, his lips tickling the shell of his girlfriend’s ear, Waiter Five whispered, “I’m not sure how fucked-up Drunk Five got a nice girl like that.”

Looping her arms around his waist she smiled. “Because she’s an actual angel,” she replied. “Like from heaven. They had a real life Christmas Carol situation and that’s what helped him finally get his shit together.”

“Huh,” Waiter Five hummed before he started kissing her again, already not caring about the other alcoholic version of him’s issues.

As Greeter Five came inside, joining the group, one of the Fives nearest the door swooped in, taking the hand of the girl next to him, gently kissing it.

Instantly overwhelmed by the unexpected gesture, as well as the sight of all the other Fives, she turned to her Five, mouth agape. “Wow… I thought you had some kinky things going on inside your brain, but compared to you…” She started to crack-up. “He was just thinking about eating pastrami off my ass!”

Looking beyond flustered by her calling him out, the other Five quickly backed away, stammering, “Wh-what is she, a mind reader?”

Positioning himself in front of her, Greeter Five’s already menacing expression turned even more threatening. “Yeah, dumbass, she is and she can alter your emotions, so I’d watch out if I were you or you might find yourself falling in love with a jar of sauerkraut. And you won't be eating pastrami or anything else off her ass as long as I’m here, so fuck off unless you’d like an acid burned dick and that spatula over there shoved up your ass.”

“You know that’s not how my powers work,” the petite blonde corrected as her hands slid around the Greeter Five’s trim waist. Clearly already aware of that, and enjoying her magical touch way too much, his grin grew and he started to lower his mouth to hers again.

Seeing that he was out of his element, and not about to win this one, the food fetish Five bolted out the door, prompting Janitor Five to stroll over, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. “Since you are the biggest nut job in here, it makes sense you’d be dating a sexy Harley Quinn look alike,” he said, distracting the couple.

“I mean no offense, sweetheart,” Janitor Five continued while suggestively wiggling his eyebrows at Greeter Five’s girl.

She smiled.

“I think you’re hot,” he added as his cool green eyes sparkled triumphantly. “Just so you know, I am way less of a headcase than him, and I am not at all scared of letting you play around inside my head, or my pants.”

“Fuck you!” Greeter Five growled.“Keep your grimy toilet cleaning hands off of her, shithead! She’s my wife!”

“Woah, settle down there, ‘Mr. I started The Commission But Got Downgraded To The Doorman At A Deli.’ I am just trying to point out that I am a much lesser dipshit than you, and let the lady here know that you are not her only option when it comes to better Fives.”

“For fucks sake! We all know that I am the best Five in here!” Greeter Five loudly yelled back, as he lunged at him.

Catching her husband by the coat tails, the comic book character look alike’s fingers brushed against his lower back. The fight almost instantly forgotten, Greeter Five turned and lowered his forehead to hers, and within seconds, she had his mind and body coming back down to a much less murderous state of arousal, but it was already too late. That arrogant outburst started all the other Fives bickering and glaring at each other, sizing each other up even though they were all the exact same size.

No longer involved in the hostilities because he was caught in his wife’s euphoric spell, Greeter Five scooped her up, pinning her against the window next to the entryway.

“I wish I could kill all these pathetic bastards,” he breathed as he nuzzled his face against the crook of her neck.

“No you don’t. You’re a good man, Five,” she corrected.

Happily mind fucked and once again paying no attention to anything else other than the piece of ass he had in his hands, Greeter Five crushed his lips against his wife’s, inadvertently sliding her back along the window glass until they rammed into another three-peice suit wearing Five that had been standing near the door since his girlfriend had come in and claimed him.

That Five had been basking in the pleasure of having his shaggy hair played with while the woman in front of him teased her hands down the front of his pants. Not happy with the Greeter Five for interrupting them, he angrily moved away from him, barking, “Get a room, asshole!”

Greeter Five snickered. “Why?” he questioned through the fringe of his hair as he grinned at the other Five. “I don’t care if you fuckers watch.”

Ready to own that, he shamelessly started rutting the prominent bulge in his pants into his giggling telepath.

Seeing and hearing all this madness, Brisket Five’s wife started to get a wild gleam in her eye as a million kinky thoughts about the vast number of identical, sexy men in the room filled her with naughty ideas.

Not nearly as fazed by all the bullshit happening around him, Brisket Five took her chin in his hand, guiding her face back to his until she was looking up at his piercing green eyes that could read her like an open book. With a subtle shake of his head, he raised an eyebrow. “I don’t fucking think so, darling,” he said, his voice low with warning.

She batted her lashes at him innocently. “What are you going to do about it, Daddy?”

At the mention of his dirty, yet fitting nickname, the other women perked up, dodging their own Five’s kisses and disappointed faces as they shared amused glances with one another.

Still getting publicly dry humped, only now over on the table edge in front of a Five that was still trying to sit there and do his crossword, Greeter Five’s girl chirped, “That’s amazing! So it’s not just my Five that likes the daddy thing!”

None of the Fives needed to say it. Their intense glares directed at each other said it loud and clear for all of them.

I’M THE ONLY DADDY HERE!

“That’s it. We’re going to settle who is the ruler of this deli once and for all!” Greeter announced, right before sliding his girl’s booty shorts towards him so he could push her backside down on the table.

“Sounds like you want to put your money where your mouth is,” taunted Cards Five as he continued to nonchalantly shuffle through his deck.

“Fuck yeah, I am,” the Greeter confirmed, ripping the red and blue shorts down his woman’s legs as he licked his lips and lowered like he was about to dive face first into her pussy-which he was.

“Oh, you are on! Get ready to lose, assholes,” yelled Waiter Five as he picked his girl up with her legs wrapping around his waist.

As there were more grumbles and boastful claims coming from the Fives, the girls glanced around at the roomful of horny, angry men they had on their hands. Brisket Five’s and Greeter Five’s wives took one look at each other and knew exactly what the other was thinking.

“Alright, ladies,” Brisket’s wife called out. “We can’t bring these horny old bastards home in the state they’re in. I think we should let them have their fun with us and then we can get out of here safely. Sound good?”

The women all nodded in agreement and just as fast they started to get pawed at even more aggressively.

Having witnessed all of this, the most aloof looking Five who had been sitting in the corner booth, lifted his glass, clinking it with the one sitting in front of his beloved mannequin. “I’m sorry, darling, you might want to shut your eyes.”

Openingly admiring the butt of the girl with the other Five that had been over by the door, Janitor Five asked, “How’d you get so lucky to hit an ass like that?”

Smirking, the Five in question leaned up against the wall next to the jukebox while pulling his lady away from the Janitor. “It’s a long story but it started when I became a pervert that was obsessed with spying on her while I jerked off. Then there was an accidental parking lot abduction incident, and after that, it just sort of happened.”

“You mean, first you tied me up, then I tied you up and set you straight,” she corrected, tugging his tie, which earned her a quiet whimper.

“Oh, so you're into perverted creeps?” Janitor Five said, trying to get a rise out of her Five but he got nothing out of either of them other than more of her hands going down her perverted boyfriend’s pants.

Seeing again that he was going to be left high and dry, the Janitor Five moved on, selecting a perfect song from the jukebox next to them for the fuck-fest that was about to commence. He then turned to Drunk Five who was still in his booth and sneered. “You might as well count yourself out, dickhead. You won't even be able to get it up.”

With an indignant snort, Drunk Five pulled his cheery angel onto his lap, running his hands up and down her bare thighs as she ground down on his rapidly hardening crotch.

“What do you think, honey?” he rasped. “Is he right?”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, actually,” she laughed, leaning in for a deep kiss.

Cards Five, not at all interested in the sex part of all this, saw his opportunity elsewhere. He turned to the Janitor Five giving him a slanted smile.

“We’re going to make a killing,” he said before hopping up on one of the unoccupied tables with the deli already becoming rowdier from all the couples in various compromising positions and locations around him.

“Listen up, shit heads! Here’s the rules!” Cards Five called out. “The Five who can get their lady off the most times in five minutes wins and will be declared the official BEST FIVE! And…no helping your guys by touching yourselves ladies, or you’re out.”

“Awww,” Janitor Five huffed.

Ignoring his disappointment, Cards Five gestured for him to start collecting the bets, then he pulled his sleeve up and set his stopwatch.

Holding his arm out to show the other Fives, he received the desired nods of approval from all.

Not needing any more encouragement to begin, as soon as Cards Five yelled out ‘go’, every Five who had the option started getting to work, determined to win his very important title.

Amid a flurry of coat jackets being hurriedly shrugged off and ties being thrown through the air, their perfect song selection cued up.

As the first few staccato notes of “Eye of the Tiger” filled the room, there was a chorus of enthusiastic cheers from the over-sexed men.

The competition had officially begun.

With his vampire girlfriend at his side, Bus-Boy Five took off with her towards the bathroom, entering the small tiled room on the heels of the Pervert Five and his pretty dominator. Shoving him into the wall, the small but assertive female directed her man to drop his pants. Already looking so excited that he might explode, he didn’t argue. His pants fell around his ankles, the metal of his belt clanking against the floor as she yanked his underwear down, letting his length spring free.

With her shirt getting ripped open and the tiny pearl buttons tinkering across the counter, the vampire sank her fangs into her Five, moaning as he hungrily nipped his teeth across her porcelain neck.

Catching the door before it swung closed on them, Janitor Five propped it open, yelling, “There’s no room for modesty here, boys! You better give us a good show in there!”

Over in their booth, doing just that, Drunk Five was already getting the full religious experience with his personal angel.

Straddling his lap, she quickly unbuckled his pants and shoved her hand inside, grabbing hold of his hardened cock. “Even though you fell off the wagon, you know I’ll always let you plow my field,” the angel quipped with a smile.

He pulled her in for a rough kiss, a hand on the back of her neck as she pumped her fist. “Enough of your bad jokes, sweetheart, right now I need you to ride my dick,” he murmured before groaning loudly, “Let’s show these assholes what we can do.”

“You got it, baby,” she purred next to his ear as she pushed her panties aside and sunk herself onto his waiting dick.

With her tits bouncing in front of his face, and her hot sleeve moving fast over his cock, Drunk Five was in a Heaven made just for him. Clutching his shoulders, the angel threw her head back as his heels dug into the floor and he pounded up into her, her broken cries proving he was still a contender.

Simultaneously, on the other side of the deli, Brisket Five was not-so-gently squeezing his wife’s tight, round ass as he aggressively sucked at her neck.

“Five,” she breathed out desperately as she clawed at the back of his shirt after having flung his chef’s apron on the floor. She took a quick peek over his shoulder, scouting the room. “I think we’re out of fuckable places.”

Pulling back with a mischievous grin that always lit a fire in his wife’s pants, Five shook his head. “Not necessarily.”

She let out a short laugh as she worked as fast as she could to get his shirt unbuttoned and pushed off his arms. Running her hands down his firm, bare chest she looked up at him. “You’re going to fuck me in a closet, aren’t you?”

As Brisket Five quickly hurried his wife along to his secret sex spot, Waiter Five brushed past, heading in the same direction.

“I’m calling the kitchen, dipshit, so don’t even bother,” he snarled at Brisket Five.

When he didn’t get the expected spiteful reply in response, Waiter Five stopped and turned. The chef version of himself was not actually trying to bone his woman in the kitchen. Instead, he was continuing in the direction of the supply closet.

“Where the fuck are you going? Scared your girl might see what she’s missing out on?” Waiter jeered, even as his girlfriend was pulling her legs tighter around his waist, rubbing against his hard crotch. His hands gripped her ass harder as he pushed her against the doorway of the kitchen, jerking his hips against her until she let out a beautifully needy moan.

“Think again, dumbshit,” Brisket barked back before unceremoniously shoving his wife into the closet and slamming the door behind him.

“That guy is a total whack-job,” Waiter Five said to his girl before continuing inside, perching her on the food-prep counter.

“How about you focus less on him and more on fucking me,” she suggested, snaking her hand down the front of his pants as she rubbed the large package that was tenting there.

With a quiet grunt, he let his eyes fall shut, his expression one of total bliss as he grinned back at her. “Good idea.”

As she hastily began opening his fly, Five worked on yanking her pants down. Knowing his dirty-minded coffee girl inside and out, he shoved his hand between her legs, letting his long fingers work their magic.

“Daddy knows what you like, doesn’t he, sweetheart?” he seductively taunted.

At the first “Ffff-uuu…yesss” that she whimpered, he knew he had her right where he wanted, and he continued to finger her while she rocked her hips into his hand and pulled at the front of his shirt.

In the closet, Brisket’s wife was pushed roughly against a wall as he flattened her body, attacking her with bruising kisses. With his hands gripping her wrists, he shoved her arms over her head, pinning them to the wall as Janitor Five’s mop went clattering to the floor.

“Panties off. Now!” Five ordered in a harsh but quiet tone, knowing for a fact that this was a sure fire way to get her dripping wet.

Freeing her wrists, she did exactly what he said, dropping her shorts and underwear and kicking them off somewhere in the dim light of the closet. With the sound of his wife’s harsh breathing riling him up even more, Five anxiously unbuckled his pants and dropped them to the floor.

Lifting one of her legs, holding it up against his hip, he pressed his rock-hard cock between her legs, not entering her as his shaft rubbed against her wet slit.

As he continued to rut into her, faster and harder but not actually fucking her, he felt the satisfying shudder of her body against his. “That’s one, but I think we can do better than that, don’t you think, angel?” he teased.

Also about to witness a second orgasm, sitting over at his booth with Greeter Five licking and lapping his wife’s clit as his fingers squelched in and out of her quivering cunt, Crossword Five lowered a hand under the table, discreetly palming the tightly stretched fabric covering his crotch.

With his fingers thrusting and wife gasping, her body bucking on the table in front of them, Greeter Five looked up, his face proudly shining as he glanced at their booth buddy. “Might as well whip it out and go for it, you dirty bastard. She likes to watch.”

At the sound and sight of Crossword Five’s fly zipping down, the woman on the table between the two shameless men cried out, “Oh, Fivvvvve. Fucck, yes! I love you!”

“That’s right, say it louder, beautiful. Let these assholes get a taste of what they are missing!” her husband growled, right before grinding his face between her legs again.

In the corner booth, not at all impressed, the Five sitting with Dolores picked up his empty margarita, eyeing it like it had personally offended him. “I’m not like that, am I?” he questioned, to which the mannequin next to him held her Mona Lisa smile, but only until he looked over and cutely smirked. “Oh. You’re right. I am like that,” Five chuckled, clearly stewed.

In the bathroom two minutes earlier, the Pervert Five’s head fell back with a bang against the wall the moment his girlfriend’s lips began to circle around the dripping tip of his waiting erection.

A few feet away, flipping around his vampire, Bus-Boy Five was about to do some sucking of a totally different kind as he lined himself up to the smooth white ass waiting for him to destroy it. Fisting the length of the vamp’s hair as the tip of his cock prodded the coolness of her slippery folds, his words came out ominously dark. “You’re all I’ll ever want. This time I want forever.”

“Then take it,” his vampire moaned as Five’s lips began to move along the exposed side of her milky throat. Looking like a man whose soul needed saving, using a hand to guide the thickened head of his cock where he needed it, penetrating all her senses at once, his blunted teeth slowly began to sink in.

A guttural moan reverberated from Five’s chest as his mouth filled with the salvation of her bittersweet taste.

Mouth agape, her fingers clenching the edge of the countertop as Five’s tongue moved over her broken skin, the vampire’s body, shaking with lust, jerked back, forcing him to bottom out.

“So-so fucking tight,” he deliriously groaned, just before thrusting his dick inside her again with much more supernatural vigor.

Looking up as he fucked, his chocolate locks hanging in his eyes and his lip still bleeding from one of her love bites, Five grinned at his reflection in the mirror, the wicked gleam in his eyes matching the sinful glow in hers lovinginly looking back at him.

Not to be out done by the debauchery happening next to them, the other Five helplessly gasped a string of profanities as he clenched his hand on the back of his girlfriend’s head so he could better slam his dick down her throat.

Interrupting the gagging and sniffling, whines and animalistic grunts and growls streaming out of the bathroom, pointing at the violent blow job in progress, Janitor Five barked out, “Disqualified! You’re supposed to be getting her off, not the other way around, you selfish dumbass!”

Coming fully undone, unloading in her mouth with his hips twitching even more spastically with each new wave of ecstasy, dumbass Five hissed and moaned, “Fuuu-aaaahh- This feels so ff- Mmfff- I don’t fff-ucking care.”

As Waiter Five’s girlfriend was coming down from her finger-fuck climax in the kitchen, he was already preparing for the next round. Stroking his leaking cock, he positioned his swollen tip at her soaking wet opening. As he slammed into her, her head fell back, knocking against the metal pots and pans that were hanging behind them. Each clatter of metal was accompanied by a loud moan as Waiter Five used all of his strength to give his girl the fuck of her life.

Alerted by all the noise, Janitor Five poked his head through the kitchen’s service window. “Hey, you better not drip any jizz on that floor, I just mopped it.”

Not slowing down for even a second while he continued to rail his girl as hard as possible, Waiter Five glanced over his shoulder at the dickhead in the doorway. “Says the guy that cums in the coleslaw.”

Smiling and mouthing ‘True’ to the girl being nailed where their food was prepared, Janitor Five witnessed a second Waiter-delivered orgasm. It was followed a few seconds later by a loud groan and some cursing as his counterpart came hard inside of her, the clanging of the pots and pans slowly quieting as his body stilled.

Back in the closet, Brisket Five’s wife clung to the rattling supply shelves as his hips slapped against her ass and his dick slammed inside her from behind. Sweating and out of breath, expertly maneuvering his fingers on her clit, she started coming hard.

“Fuck, Fiiive!!” she screamed as she bucked her ass backward and rolls of toilet paper rained down on them.

“That’s two,” he panted heavily as she tried to regain her composure enough to stand on her wobbly legs. “One more, darling?”

Grinning widely, pulling her flush with his chest, his cock still-hard, his wife nodded and smiled knowingly; just another confirmation that the two were meant for each other.

As he went in for a kiss, a hand tangled in her hair, she stumbled forward, causing Five to stagger backward into the door. The two came flying out of the supply closet with a giant crash as they fell into a mostly-naked heap onto the floor.

There was a very brief pause as everyone else in the deli looked in their direction, but they were quickly ignored as the other Fives got back down to business.

“One minute left, boys…let’s wrap it up!” yelled Cards Five.

Determined not to lose, Brisket Five pushed his wife onto her back and crawled on top, not giving a shit that they were laid out for the entire deli to see. Thrusting his cock back into her still-wet cunt, Five let out a long groan. Going at it hard as he held himself up on his forearms, he rammed into her at just the right angle. From there, his wife’s third orgasm came quickly, allowing him to fill her up with an impressive stream of cum.

Standing near the kitchen service window, Janitor Five slammed his palm down onto the order-up bell to signal the latest win. “Another one for Brisket!” he yelled. “That’s three!”

As Brisket Five and his wife laid on their backs, chests heaving, he grabbed a nearby discarded suit coat and threw it over her bottom half. With satisfied smiles, they lazily high-fived one another on a job well done.

Realizing he needed to do something fast, Greeter Five worked his hips overtime as his wife’s legs draped around the narrow of his waistcoat.

“Come on, come on, come on!” Janitor Five chanted along with him as he dangled over the booth, watching their Greeter going at it, his dick working like a piston engine.

In a frenzy, beating his meat hard, Crossword Five let out a broken moan.

Only taking his eyes off his prize long enough to see that Cards Five was counting down the final seconds on his fingers, Greeter Five frantically gasped, “Touch him, NOW!”

As the telepath’s hand fell into Crossword Five’s free hand, his face pinched in ecstasy and spatters of cum flung from his rapidly pumping fist, landing all over the tabletop.

To the backdrop of Janitor Five loudly singing, ‘Rising up to the challenge of our rivals,’ Greeter Five’s wife’s eyes began to roll back in her head and her body began to tighten and turn to mush all over again.

Looking like a madman, Greeter Five kept at it, thrusting his throbbing cock in and out of her trembling hole as he filled her with load after load of pent up seed.

“Yes! We got this in the bag!” Janitor Five exclaimed, obnoxiously clapping his hands together over the awe inspiring spectacle of the three exhibitionists simultaneously climaxing.

Turning back and forth between the two Fives who appeared to be at a tie, Cards Five held up his watch for his betting buddies to see. “It’s…TIME!” he shouted.

Either not hearing that it was over, or simply not caring, Bus-Boy Five and his vampire girlfriend burst out of the bathroom with him carrying her like she was his front backpack. Unnaturally floating past everyone, he kept at it, impaling her, his phantomlike showmanship making it abundantly clear he wasn’t going to stop and he didn’t give a damn who won the fuck competition.

Just then, the bell on the door chimed as Old Five walked in wearing his dapper gray suit and hat. “Jesus Christ! What the hell is going on in here!” he gasped in horror as the undead couple disappeared through the doorway behind him.

Kissing his wife languidly as his softening dick wetly slipped out of her, Greeter Five began to laugh. “Busted, beautiful. I saw that,” he said, taunting her as she dizzily eyed-up the older gentleman. “Don’t even think about it,” he warned, still treasuring her with gentle brushes of his lips against her flushed cheeks.

“What?” she said as she grinned and pulled his pants around him, re-fastening his belt. “You give an amazing mustache ride. You can’t blame a girl for wanting to feel the tickle of your sexy old man whiskers for old time’s sake.”

The line between Greeter Five’s brows deepened with distaste as Old Five looked his half naked wife up and down, his mostly whitened brows going all the way to his hairline because he was so floored by what she just said.

Chuckling at Greeter Five’s sour expression, Janitor Five started to clear some of the scattered dishes on their table since their bus-boy was currently preoccupied doing vampire things. “Are you going to spank her for saying that, or do you want me to since you look a little spent?” he conversationally offered.

“No thank you. I’ll take care of it later,” Greeter Five politely chuckled as his wife pinched his butt.

As the rest of the Fives and their girls were still lounging around in various states of droopy eyed post coital bliss, twirling his wife’s panties on his index finger, Greeter Five smiled smugly. “As I said before all of this, I am, and always was, the winner here.”

Not having that, Brisket Five, helping his wife up off the floor, chimed in, “No. It’s a tie. Everyone heard my girl screaming for me at least three times. Twice in the closet and the last just now.”

Tensions rising again, arguing about how to divide the money, the betting Five’s started in on each other.

“Well, this has been interesting,” Old Five grumbled from where he was sitting in one of the back booths, his hat resting next to him as he sipped his coffee. “I can’t believe what a moron I used to be.”

Before picking up his book, the old man’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he gave Greeter Five’s wife a flirty wink. Getting one back, he reached over, dropping a quarter in the jukebox.

Missing the enamored look on his wife’s face this time since his focus was on his nemesis, Greeter Five said, “Whatever. See you later, loser.”

Brisket Five’s smarmy grin deepened. “You only hit three because you are a cheater, shit head.”

About to say something else ridiculous to the other him, a finger pressed against Greeter Five’s lips, shushing him. Her mind willing him to shut his trap, the seemingly harmless blonde began softly singing along with the jukebox and his eyes instantly glossed over.

Let ‘em say we're crazy, I don’t care about that…Put your hand in my hand baby, don’t ever look back…

“What a pussy,” Brisket Five laughed at the other him’s inability to see that he’d been silenced.

Sighing, his wife’s head moved back and forth in reprimand.

“What?” he questioned, as if he didn't already know.

Grinning like an idiot as the song that had so much meaning to him played, Greeter Five, having forgotten what he was going on about, allowed his clever wife to tow him towards the door like a puppy on a leash. Following their lead, the Five who still owed his girlfriend for her world-class BJ, and a much more sober Five and his angel, happily made their way out with Waiter Five and his coffee girl not far behind. Brisket and his wife brought up the rear, his arm draped over her shoulder.

As all of the couples made their way out of the deli, every one of the Fives was looking forward to finally getting back to the places where they had first learned what it meant to be truly loved.

Seeing that their only reliable cook was now leaving them, Janitor Five threw his hands in the air as he yelled out, “Hey, Brisket, what the fuck are we supposed to eat now?”

Turning around and seeing his signature apron lying on the floor, Brisket Five scooped it up. With a crooked grin, he flipped his hair out of his eyes and tossed it at the deli’s biggest asshole. “Why not try eating a dick?”

After the doors of the train closed, and the more fortunate Fives were on their way, Janitor looked over at Cards Five and shrugged as if considering that.

Turning to go back inside as he laughed, then began belting out, “AND…WE can build this dream TOGETHER, standing strong forever, NOTHINGS GONNA STOP US NOW! AND if this-”

As they heard the sound of another train coming into the station, he stopped.

With that unexpected surprise, not long later, all of the remaining Fives finally found their happiness, too.

Thank you all for reading this, and for all your support through our many, many crazy Five stories. ❤️

To read Kitty's origin stories for Brisket Five, Waiter Five, and Drunk Five either visit this master list or hit the A03 links below.

(Brisket) Halo Series

(Waiter Five) 'Love In The Time of Cholera and Coffee

(Drunk Five) It's a Wonderful Life, Five Hargreeves

To read Breezy's origin stories for Greeter Five, Vampy Five, and Pervert Five either hit my master list or the A03 links below:

(Greeter Five) Paramore (The Umbrella Academy) 3-part series

(Vampy Five) 'The Devil Within'

(Pervert Five) 'Bad Things'

245 notes · View notes

honeyedmiller · 8 months

Text

An Ode to Forever | Joel Miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: mostly pwp, sex in a bathtub with lots of feelings, fluff, tenderness, they’re both so sickeningly in love, smut (vaginal fingering, unprotected piv, joel is handsy af, some butt stuff [lol]), light alcohol consumption, sort of erotic food consumption(not really tho???), use of daddy twice in this (idk what came over me), joel doesn’t have kids in this, no use of y/n.

word count: 3.2k

synopsis: after an arduous day, joel draws a bath to help you both relax.

an ode to how much you love joel miller, and he, you.

a/n: this is a lil valentine’s day one shot i wanted to put out. slowly getting my writing juju back. this is also a follower milestone celebration. thank you to everyone who supports my work. love you all <3

divider by @saradika-graphics

It’d been a rough day.

A day where bones ached, minds were exhausted and all that was yearned for was to be home with each other.

You’d texted Joel that you were stopping off at the store to get some wine because hell, you needed to relax. He instantly texted you back to be safe and that he loves you.

He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

A true love like this is something you’d never in a million years think you’d ever have to yourself. Someone who cares so much. Someone you can cherish. A love that was all your own. You were so wrapped up in the bliss of Joel Miller, and he, you.

It was the kind of love that was terrifying and beautiful and gut wrenching and so fucking rare. A love that made you feel like you were floating in the clouds, euphoria pumping through your veins every time you looked at him. The kind of love that was a forever thing. Something you never, ever thought you’d have.

He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

The lights were off when you got home. You call out his name, hanging your keys on your designated hook before toeing off your pumps.

“Up here.” He calls back, voice cascading down the stairs. You make your way up and into the bedroom, setting your work bag down before you look around in confusion.

“Joel?” You call out, and his broad frame emerges from the bathroom.

“Hey baby.” He says. You smile softly at the sight of him, body visibly relaxing in his presence. Joel notices and the corner of his mouth twitches upward into a smile.

“Hi.” Your voice is as soft as your expression, allowing him to envelope the whole of your being into his strong, warm arms. He kisses your temple before gently taking the pinot grigio out of your hands, humming at your wine choice.

“Take your work clothes off and meet me in the bathroom.” He gives your forehead a kiss before disappearing again. You cock your eyebrow in confusion, but oblige to his request anyhow. You strip off your clothes, leaving your body clad in just your bra and underwear. The plush carpet beneath your bare feet feels heavenly after a day of wearing those pumps for work.

The cold tile of the bathroom sends a chill up your spine, but you ignore the sensation when you take in all that’s in front of you—a bubble bath with rose petals scattered atop, candles lit on the side of the tub, and a small tray of chocolate covered strawberries waiting to be devoured. Wine glasses filled with two cubes of ice each sit perfectly next to the strawberries, along with the pinot grigio.

You feel the sting of tears immediately. Your eyes move over to Joel, who’s standing with his hands behind his back and a boyish grin adorning his handsome face.

“What—what’s this?” Your voice is meek, eyes glossy and bottom lip slightly trembling.

“I know we won’t get that much time to ourselves on Valentine’s Day, so I thought we’d celebrate a little early. Y‘know, a nice way to relax after a tough day.”

“Joel, honey, this is perfect.”

“Yeah? You like it?”

You turn to face him fully. “I love it. And I love you.” You close the distance between the both of you, pulling him in for a tender kiss. He hums against your lips, enveloping your body into his arms. He slides his hands down to your ass, giving it a playful tap.

He unravels his arms from you before taking a small step back, shucking off his shirt and his pants. He looks at you as you watch him, desire for him pooling your eyes. A glint of fascination crosses his gaze as he studies you studying him.

“One more thing.” Joel says before stepping out of the bathroom. A minute later, soft tunes of Frank Sinatra wafted throughout the bedroom and into the bathroom. He comes back in with a smile on his face as he grabs your hand and twirls you before kissing you. You couldn’t help but smile against him.

He pulls down his underwear and climbs into the tub, groaning at the warm water against his achy bones.

“C’mere, sweet girl.” He nudges his head, holding his hand out to you. You smile and remove your bra and underwear, climbing into the tub with him. The warm water eased the tension that was left in your body, rolling off your shoulders and dissipating into the aroma of scented bubbles. Lavender, you think.

Joel pulls you back against his body, warm and inviting as you lean on him and close your eyes. You sit like that for a minute—still, calm, and silent. It’s what you both needed. Days like this could be more than overstimulating, and Joel knew that. You both basked in the fact that you could sit in silence in each other’s presence and be perfectly content.

You felt movement behind you, only to see Joel reaching for the wine bottle. He opens it with ease and pours the wine into the two glasses, clinking his with yours in a soft ‘cheers.’

Joel set his glass down on the edge of the tub, hands landing on your shoulders. Water sloshed gingerly with his movements. He started to dig his thumbs into the tense muscle. You couldn’t help but groan, head lolling to the side slowly.

“Feel good?” Joel chuckles close to your ear, goosebumps raising at the low vibrato of his voice.

“Mhm,” You manage.

Joel leans his mouth down to the base of your neck, leaving tender kisses in his wake. Your nails trace patterns on his thick thighs, the slow drag pulling at the need for you within him.

Your touch, your smile, your voice, your laugh, you. You drove him absolutely crazy. This man loved you more than life itself. If he could give you the whole world, he would—but for once in his life he knew he was enough.

“I love you, darlin’.” Joel’s voice is nearly a whisper. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, kissing your soft flesh repeatedly.

You crane your neck to face him and his hands drop to your arms.

“I love you more, cowboy.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Not possible.”

“Mm.” You muse, leaning in to kiss him. Those same rumbling butterflies stir in your stomach, heart strings pulling at the softness of his lips and how perfect they feel slotted with yours.

His tongue easily made its way into your mouth as you slid a hand into his slightly graying curls. You moaned into him, your other free hand gripping his thigh tighter as the neediness ignites within your body.

See, that was the thing. Joel had you wrapped around his fingers. He knew exactly what made you tick.

His hands slowly slide to your breasts, kneading them with such care before pinching both of your nipples between his thumbs and index fingers. You gasp into the kiss at the sensation as it travels down like hot liquid to your core, already pulsing with aching need.

Joel’s small chuckle separates the kiss, and you lean your forehead against his cheek as he continues to toy with your pillowy flesh. Your breathing begins to stagger, mind clouded with the carnal desire for the man who’s stolen your heart.

“Joel,” You’re breathless, legs mindlessly rubbing together for any friction you can get. “Please.”

“Please what, baby?” His chest rumbles with the low vibrato of his voice, goosebumps erupting on your skin once more.

“Fuck. Touch me. Please, Joel.”

“Fuckin’ love when my girl uses her manners. How do you want daddy to touch you?” His voice is a low growl, one hand easily gliding down the curves of your body before his fingertips brush over your mound. You can’t help the soft whimper that escapes you as he easily spreads your legs with his hand, running his middle finger down your slit. “Like this?”

You suck in a breath behind clenched teeth, head dropping back onto his shoulder as he starts to slowly drag his fingers over your slick sex. Even underwater, Joel could feel how aroused you are.

“Answer me, sweet girl. Tell me.”

“Y-yes. God, yes–please—fuck me with your fingers.”

You’ve come to learn how to be more vocal with Joel, always shying away from telling him what you wanted when it came to your pleasure at first. He eventually coaxed it out of you, telling you that there’s no reason to be shy around him. He’d take care of you all the same.

You knew that, but you were still grateful for the man being patient with you when words would get lodged into your throat, seemingly unwilling to be vocalized. It got easier over time, and the confidence you radiated when you and Joel initiated anything intimate was a show he’d always want a front seat to.

You moaned as he easily slipped a finger into you, disappearing down to the knuckle. It was a welcome stretch, his fingers always reaching places yours never could. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more.

“Another one, please.” You sigh, rutting your hips down to grind onto his hand. He easily complies, this time a little bit more of a tight fit. You moan at the sensation, and Joel has a crooked grin on his face as he starts to languidly pump his fingers in and out of you. He was teasing you, you think, because he wanted to hear you beg him to go faster. And, truthfully, you weren’t above doing so.

“Such pretty sounds you make for me, baby,” He starts to pick up his pace, and you subconsciously bite your lip to quiet yourself down. “Uh uh, don’t go all shy on me now, darlin’. Wanna hear you. Wanna hear how I make you feel.”

“You know—shit—you know how you make me feel, Joel,” You reason with him, “You drive me fucking crazy.”

“Good.”

That was all he said before he picked up the pace of his fingers, curling them to press against the spongy spot in you that had your eyes rolling back and your toes curling. He swiped his thumb over your clit, finding a steady rhythm with his fingers.

One of your hands had his thigh in a vice grip, likely to leave scratch marks on his tan skin while the other held onto the edge of the tub. That same liquid heat traveled throughout the course of your body, pooling at the bottom of your spine. Waiting. Wanting. Begging to be released. You grind your hips down to match his pace, just needed a bit more of a push.

The whimpers and moans that eluded you only added to Joel’s own arousal, the occasional grunt from him reverberating off of the bathroom walls. His cock was solid against your back, and you couldn’t help but think how much self control this man had.

“Can feel your pretty pussy clenchin’ my fingers, sweetheart. You gonna come on them? Hm?” His lips are at your ear now, poking his tongue out to lick your earlobe before nibbling on it.

“Yes—oh, fuckfuckfuck. Right there, Joel, please don’t stop. Pleasepleaseplease—” You’re a begging, whimpering mess before you come undone, whole body shuddering as your orgasm washes over you so intensely.

“There you go. That’s it. My girl always does so well, hm? So fuckin’ well.” Joel praises you, slowly sliding his fingers out of you before running them over your slit once more, featherlight and meticulous. You shudder at the sensation, a choked moan escaping the hollows of your throat.

“What do you say?” Joel teases, riling you up.

“Thank you, daddy.” You laugh softly, giving his thigh a gentle squeeze.

You sit up and turn yourself around, careful not to slosh any water outside of the tub. Joel has an amused look on his face and you huff a laugh through your nose before kissing him. It was passionate, like something you’d see in those romance movies on the big screen.

It’s a silent promise, something that can’t be put into words. It surges through your veins and exists in you all the time, heightened by the very man that made you feel these things again.

You pull apart from him, rubbing your nose against his before you lean back to take in his handsome features. His dark brown eyes gleamed with budding love.

Your gaze shifts to the untouched strawberries, and you pluck one off of the plate before taking a bite. It’s sweet; the mixture of chocolate and the fruit dancing on your taste buds. You hold the rest of the strawberry to Joel’s lips, and he grins before taking a bigger bite. You place the calyx back on the tray, gaze drifting to Joel again.

You grin when you see some chocolate on his bottom lip.

“You got a little…” Your words die in your throat as you lean forward, licking his bottom lip before kissing him again. You move to straddle his lap, hips flexing to fit around the broadness of him.

“Be mine forever.” He whispers against you.

“I’m already yours, Joel. You’ve always had me.”

You trail a hand down his chest, toying with his hair before sliding your palm down his torso as your nails slightly scrape his flesh. You plant soft kisses all along his collarbone, tongue poking out to lick his already wet skin.

Your wandering hand brushes through the tuft, wiry hair that sat atop his aching cock. You hum against him and wrap your hand around his length. He pulses in your hand, heavy and waiting to be relieved. You begin to slide your hand up and down his silky flesh, nipping at his collarbone as you did so.

Joel sucks in a breath behind clenched teeth, eyes closing in pure bliss as he tries to refrain from bucking up into your hand.

“Such a pretty cock. Love it so much.” You muse, and Joel groans at your words. He’ll never get used to you worshiping him and his body the way you do, he thinks.

But, he loves it all the same. It makes his heart fucking flutter, and even though he’ll probably never openly admit it, he loves it. It makes him feel worthy. Wanted. Loved.

“It’d look even prettier buried in that perfect pussy.” He says, and your movements falter for a split second. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to his filthy mouth, but it was something you couldn’t get enough of.

You look down at him with hooded eyes and a satiated grin before lifting your hips up to hover over him, swiping his tip over your folds before sinking down on him. You’re slow with your movements, wanting to feel every ridge and vein his pretty, pretty cock has.

You both moan in harmony as you reach the hilt.

“So-fuckin’-perfect.” Joel grits, head lolling back as he takes in the sensation of your warmth wrapped around him so perfectly, like you were specifically made to be there. And you are, you think.

Your hands rest on his shoulders as you start gliding up and down on him, the stretch so welcoming every time you fully sink back down. Joel’s hands settle onto your ass to guide you into a steady pace. He wraps his lips around one of your nipples, giving it a soft bite, and you gasp at the sensation. Joel could feel you clenching around him with every pass of his tongue on your sensitive bud.

One of your hands tangles itself into his curls once more, giving them a little tug. His eyes pop open and he lets go of your nipple with a small ‘pop’, gaze never wavering from yours. You toss him a saccharine smile before kissing the tip of his nose.

“So handsome.” You whisper, kissing every high point of his face before resting your forehead against his once more.

“Yeah?” He asks, fingers grazing down on your ass slotting themselves between the crevice of both cheeks.

“Mhm.” You bite your lip, knowing what was coming. It was something new that you tried around a month ago and really liked, so Joel would implement the action whenever he could.

The tip of his middle finger circled around the tight ring of your asshole, a wicked grin on his lips as your hips stuttered.

“Gotta fill you all the way up, darlin’.” He chuckles as he pushes his middle finger into your tight hole.

Your eyes clamp shut tight, feeling so full of the man you love.

“Fuck, god, Joel– feels s’good.” Your words are slurring together and you’re trying your damnedest to keep the pace of your hips steady, maybe even riding him a little faster if that means his finger in your ass will pump faster, too.

“I know, baby. Doin’ so well. So good for me, hm? Takin’ what I give ya, so full n’ all.” He cooes, nosing at your jaw as your mouth falls slack and eyebrows thread together.

The pleasure coursing through your body is devastatingly euphoric, the sensation of him everywhere driving you crazy in all the right ways.

You know it wouldn’t be long before you fell apart at the seams for him once more.

That deep, throaty growl he does while his eyes are shut in concentration, and the pulsing feeling of his cock is a dead giveaway that he’s going to fall apart for you, too.

“‘M close, Joel.” You’re clawing at his back now, his finger curling inside you as you bury your face into his neck.

Your hips burn from straddling his wide frame, desperate for a break, but you won’t stop. Not until You’re falling apart for him and he, you.

“I know, sweet girl. Can feel ya. Give it t’me, c’mon.” He groans, fucking up into you. His jaw ticks as his teeth clench, feeling you pulsing around him as you cry out his name in pure bliss. Another orgasm crashes through you, eyes rolling back as your body goes limp on his.

It only takes him a few more thrusts before he’s coming, filling you with everything he has. He moans with every stutter of his hips as his chest heaves up and down, body following suit with yours and going completely limp. He removes his finger from you slowly before you lift yourself off of him, already missing the feeling of being so full.

You stay wrapped up in eachother for a few minutes, giving yourselves the chance to catch your breaths. You kiss his chest repeatedly, placing your hand over his rapidly beating heart.

“I love you. So fucking much, Miller.” You laugh softly, tracing patterns on his chest as your head presses against the solidity of it.

The feeling of his beating heart surges life into you. Knowing that you get to exist at the same time as this gorgeous, loving man is a feeling you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. There really are no words for it, you think. At least not strong enough to describe the feeling.

“I love you too, darlin’. Forever.”

And then you think to yourself, you’d do life over and over again if it meant you got to meet Joel in every single one of them.

i’m such a fucking sap dude. lmfaooo anyway, hope y’all enjoyed <3

tags: @nostalxgic ; @ilovepedro ; @endlessthxxghts ; @punkshort ; @joelsgreys ; @pamasaur ; @cool-iguana ; @joeloverture

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller one shot #joel miller fluff #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you

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voxsremotec0ck · 7 months

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Lucifer: So I was doing what you suggested , Char. You know, going out and sight seeing. Anyway, I was walking down the street and a random Sinner walked passed me, smiling and waving. It was pretty od-

Charlie: *Gasp* So you said 'hi' and made a new friend?!

Lucifer: I mean, uh, I waved back and-

Charile: I'm so proud of you, dad! I can't wait to hear more about them!

Lucifer: Mhmm! Yep! Sure! Actually I have plans to met them again soon! *Vigorously scrolling through social media to find you*

Alastor: They had such a lovelysmile on their face, Rosie. It was almost as big as mine! Imagine that! Such a shame you don't see smiles like that often, you knew your never fully dressed without one!

Rosie: So, you're trying to find them because they're a kindred soul?

Alastor: Oh ho, no dear Rosie! Where ever did you get that idea from? No, I think it would be very entertaining to see such a positive soul crushed by the cruelty of this world, and if they were at the Hotel then I'd get front row seats!

Rosie: *Knowing things that Alastor doesn't* Mhmm...

Velvette: VOX! I can't believe I'm saying this but put the phone down before I fetch Val!

Vox: I can't let them slip through my grasp again Vel!

Velvette: There's about half a billion other nameless whores out there to choose from! What makes you think this one's special?

Vox: ... I DON’T KNOW BUT I'M GOT TO FIND THEM AND FIND OUT!

Angel: I was so weird Cherri, like they just smiled and left.

Cherri: Didn't even give you a once over?

Angel: No! They're gaze was entirely on my face! Like how am I supposed to work with that? If they looked at my ass or the fluff I could have atleast know which to stick in their face.

Cherri: *Scrolling through social media for you* Sounds like the kinda Sinner Princess is looking for.

Angel: Yep, sucks we'll probably never see them again. Would have brought them a round of drinks, ya know. Some politeness for some politeness.

THIS ^^

It’s perfect omg every one of them is spot on!!

For the people that wanted a part 2 for polite smile here it is because this is just *chefs kiss*

#hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin angel dust #hazbin alastor #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel x you #ᯤ answers

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undreaming-fanfiction · 2 years

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Listen, I love Eddie gushing over his handsome boyfriend like all and any of us, but I have some thoughts. It's still planned for my set of fanfictions, Piece by Piece, but I'm drabbling my way towards happiness here.

Steve knows he is good-looking. He knows his hair is amazing, he knows he's toned, all that. People have been complimenting him for all his life, have been jealous, but most of all, it's all they have seen. The jerk with good looks. The jock with the hair. Then the babysitter, still with the hair. Steve isn't exactly proud of his looks, it's just what it is. He's a pretty boy and that's a fact. He doesn't argue against the compliments, he has learned long ago that any insecurity on his part is considered fake modesty. But he's terrified because he knows looks don't last, he knows he isn't as active as he used to be, he knows there will be wrinkles, grey hair, saggy skin and just like the enviable body he has now, he will not have any choice in it.

When he starts dating Eddie, he can tell Eddie likes the way he looks and that's fine, that's great even, but this isn't just a fling to him, it's his endgame. Steve likes making himself look pretty for his boyfriend, leans into his touch when Eddie strokes his hair, kisses his beauty marks, but there's this insistent, unrelenting voice in his head that keeps saying: "this is all you have to offer. This is all you are and all you'll ever be." He never shares this with anyone, but he dreads the day when Eddie finds out there is nothing else to Steve than his reckless disregard for his own health and his naturally but inevitably diminishing looks.

But Eddie is observant. When he gazes into Steve's eyes and whispers "you're so beautiful it hurts," Steve's lip quivers and he closes his eyes, as if he was memorizing the moment. It's subtle, but his muscles tense. Eddie knows in that second that there is something there, something he doesn't realize yet, but he's committed to unraveling the wire wrapping Steve's heart on his own. He doesn't push and prod, he experiments.

The next time, he doesn't go for the obvious, even if he wants to sing odes to Steve's shoulders, his back, his strong hands. Steve is cooking in the kitchen, fumbling around a bit, but the smell is delicious and he looks content. His hair is still ruffled from their night together and he's humming some pop song Eddie doesn't recognize. Eddie's heart swells with fondness and he wraps his arms around Steve's waist from behind, kissing the nape of his neck. "What a sight you are," he mumbles into his shoulder. "When you smile like that, when you sing along your horrible music...you're making me realize how lucky I am all over again." He knows he said something right when Steve turns the prettiest shade of pink and starts spluttering that he's the lucky one, really, and does Eddie really enjoy his heartfelt rendition of Take On Me when pop normally makes his ears bleed? Eddie says "it's not the pop I like, it's you. It makes you happy and I love seeing you happy," and Steve just melts into his arms.

From that point onwards, he makes sure to compliment Steve's choices, not just his looks, even though he never fails to whisper exactly what Steve's body does to him in the bed. He tells him that the new shirt makes him look even more radiant, he tells Steve he loves it when he lets loose once in a while and gets silly, he swoons over his voice, praises how well he handles the kids, his effort, his style. And Steve finally opens up about his insecurities, asking whether Eddie doesn't find him boring, with how straightforward he is, how one-dimensional. "I don't care for fireworks, Steve," he tells him and strokes that beautiful head. "They're pretty, exciting, but burn out soon and probably set your house on fire. Some relationships are like that, but not with you. Being with you...it makes me feel safe. I never have to guess what you mean, you just say it. Being with you is like sitting in front of a fireplace and having all the time in the world. I want that, nothing else."

Steve smiles at him and squeezes his hand. He chews on his lip and whispers: "All the time, huh? Even when I'm gray and ugly?"

Eddie gasps, offended. "The nerve of calling my boyfriend ugly, sir! Now I have to fight you for his honor! Ready your sword, scoundrel!" He tackles Steve to the bed, laughing like a madman. When he lands on top of him, he cradles his head gently and pecks him on the lips, just once, although he wants nothing more than to get lost in his embrace. "Seriously though, Stevie. You and ugly? Never to me, no matter what. But old? Hell yeah. If I get to see you all aged like fine wine or if you become the grumpiest asshole in this town, that's a victory in my book. Because it'll mean we survived all the crap life threw at us and you'll have kept me around. What's not to love about that?"

And it seems the wire constricting Steve's heart is loosening because there are tears in his eyes and he doesn't flinch when Eddie kisses them away. "I'll be looking forward to it then," he whispers into Eddie's hair.

From then on, Steve doesn't fear new wrinkles. He celebrates them with Eddie, counting each gray hair as a small step toward their victory, as Eddie called it. And it turns out that Steve is okay being complimented on his looks after all, because when Eddie kisses his laugh lines and mentions how much he enjoys them ("these are a proof you find me hilarious, Steve! Of course I love them!"), Steve finds himself seeing his body as a map of his life, the moments with Eddie, Robin, the kids, and as his wise boyfriend once said: "What's not to love about that?"

#stranger things #steve harrington #strangerthings #eddie munson #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fanfic #steddie drabble #steddie brainrot #hair metal #strangerthingsfanfiction #strangerthingsdrabble

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devildomwriter · 4 months

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They Listen to You Play the Piano | Lucifer x Reader

Lucifer was anxiously filling out paperwork at his study desk as he did every night. The mountain of pavers very slowly decreased, and his hand began to cramp from so much writing.

He sighed and stretched, deciding he should get another coffee lest he fall asleep at his desk again. Honestly, Diavolo worked him a little too hard at times, but he’d never admit that to the demon lord. He’d be far too embarrassed to admit he couldn’t do everything as he saw proudly proclaimed. However, he didn’t know any demon that could do a thousand and five reports in a single night while keeping their six demon brothers and chaotic human under control.

He sighed as he left his room, and as he walked down the hall towards the kitchen, he thought he heard a few keys being played on the piano.

“Ode to Joy?” He thought out loud, recognizing the simple piano piece.

He followed the sound of the piano to the music room and stood just out of sight as he saw you looking rather aggravated, staring at your D.D.D. screen and cursing your hands for not moving correctly.

He listened to you practice as you continuously hit the wrong key until you banged your head onto the piano keys, and he decided he couldn’t let this go on.

He walked up behind you quietly and saw a piano learning app pulled up on the D.D.D.

“___?” He asked, standing right behind you.

Your head shot up from the piano, and you stared at him in embarrassed shock.

“What the? Please tell me you didn’t hear that disaster….” You mumbled, red in the face.

He chuckled and nodded, patting your shoulder to comfort you as you hid your face in your hands.

“My pinky won’t move without the other fingers! It’s so easy to play with one finger, but I can’t use my entire hand?” You complained, and he laughed and gestured for you to move aside.

He sat on the bench next to you and moved your fingers to the correct keys.

“Like this.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” you sighed.

“Well, you aren’t doing it right,” he corrected.

“Yeah, I figured that the eighth time I screwed it up. How did Beethoven compose music as a child?”

“Practice. He practiced day and night just like you’re going to do.”

“What? I am?”

He nodded, “yes. I’ll be your teacher. You’ll be playing masterpieces in no time.”

“You have too much faith in me,” you mumbled, not sure if you should be excited about lessons or scared.

“No, you just have too little faith in yourself,” he scolded, and he put your hand back over the proper keys.

“We’re going to practice using your pinky by itself until your other fingers get used to it,” he instructed.

“Don’t you have paperwork,” you tried distracting him.

“It can wait. This is far more important,” he dismissed.

“What? No, it’s not,” you insisted, but he gave you his trademark smirk, confusing you.

“I’m the only one in this house who plays piano; you wanted to impress me, didn’t you?”

“Not everything is about you,” you blushed because he was right.

“Nonsense, of course it is. Now let’s begin.”

Thus began the first of many nights sat closely by Lucifer’s side as your hands moved together, filling the house with beautiful music.

#obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me drabble #obey me Lucifer x reader #obey me story #obey me ficlet #obey me x reader #obey me scenarios

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anisangeldust · 5 months

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Lavender Haze 𝜗𝜚⋆

did i have every intention to post this on 4/20? yes. but did i get so faded that i’ve had severe brain fog for the last day and a half? also yes 🫶🎀

Summary: Coriolanus sees you at a party with a particularly rough group of people and he just has to have you.

Pairing: Dealer!Coriolanus x Fem!Reader (Modern AU, Innocent!reader)

Warnings: DRUG USE AND ABUSE!, (mentions of: cocaine, weed, heroin, cigarettes, oxy/percs, and others), Mention of guns, mention of murder, mentions of ODing, mentions of rape, smut (p in v, fem!receiving oral) CNC/dub-con, impact play, masochism, minor gun kink.

A/N: dipping my toe into darker themes! happy late 4/20! (smoke responsibly)🎀🎀

It was painfully obvious you didn’t belong here, from the cloud of smoke settled around everything in the room, to the stray bottles of little white pills the attendees were popping like candy. It was all so foreign to you.

If your friends weren’t here, you’d have gone home the second you were invited in.

Coriolanus had been watching you, he was perfectly hidden in plain sight. Your cute little pink dress was like a magnet to his icy eyes, and the way you were stepping over discarded needles was almost endearing.

The uncomfortable look on your face grew as your headache got worse, the constant hotboxing starting to run its course on your untarnished little body.

Coriolanus decided to scoop you up and keep you safe before anyone else got their grubby hands on you, after all, he was a dealer; not a monster. And to have you taken advantage of by another seemed like a horrid option, so he went with the former.

“Hey darling, you look like you don’t belong here” Coriolanus cooed, walking up to you and making sure you knew he was safe.

“I don’t, my friends dragged me here, i don’t do this kind of stuff” your voice was small and a little timid, like a stray cat at a shelter.

“I can tell princess. how about you stay with me? i’ll get some fresh air, and i’ll make sure you’re safe” he reached around to pat the handgun in his pocket.

“Oh! O-okay.” You were in no position to deny this stranger, after all, he seemed very kind, and he was very handsome, tall with buzzed blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Don’t worry hunny, you’re safe” he teased and wrapped one of his strong arms around you. “wanna go sit outside? you can even sit on my lap” he offered as his hand drew light circles on your waist.

“That sounds great, my head really hurts” you smiled back and lean into the handsome stranger.

——

‘Coriolanus, his name was Coriolanus. Coryo he said to call him.’ was the thought swirling in your head as you sat on his lap while he rested on patio furniture.

“I’m a dealer baby, I have the drugs and then I sell them to people, ‘s how I make money, it’s quite profitable too” Coriolanus explained, the lit joint between his lips and large hand cupping your ass all adding to his appeal.

Every once in a while a few people would come up to him with cash, he’d hand them a bottle of pills, or a baggy of weed, but when a guy about his age with curly chestnut colored hair walked up, he asked for cocaine.

“Alright Creed, I’ll have to measure it here though” Coriolanus murmured as he counted the cash handed to him by this mysterious stranger and then placing the bills into your hands. “hold this for me pretty girl”. His voice a million times more soft and gentle than when he was talking to the ‘Creed’ guy.

“Ever cut coke before princess? ‘Course you haven’t, you’re too much of a good girl” he chuckled against your ear. Grabbing the scale next to him, he pulled out a small baggie of white powder from his coat pocket. After measuring exactly a gram, he took a credit card and carefully pushed the powder back into the ziplock baggie.

Coriolanus took the cash from your hands and pushed it into his pocket, taking the joint from his lips, he gave you a kiss on the cheek before blowing the smoke away form your face.

“Can I try?” Your voice squeaked out, the joint didn’t seem too scary, and you wanted to at least try something while you’re sat on the lap of a dealer.

“The joint? Oh baby, are you sure?” He teased and moved your hair out of your face.

“Yes, I wanna try it, please?” Your big eyes were something he just couldn’t resist, so he took the rolled up cannabis and placed it between your plump lips.

“Breathe in like you’re sucking on a straw baby girl, that’s it..” he held your hand and the joint, looking deeply into your eyes.

The moment the smoke filled your lungs, the taste of tar and skunk filled your chest, instantly you coughed and stared to tear up. “Ew! How do you do that all the time!” You cough and lean into Coriolanus’ touch.

“Told you babygirl, it’s gross” he teases and takes a long drag before blowing the smoke into your face with a chuckle.

“Coryo!” You scrunch your face and whack his chest

“C’mon baby, how about this, I’ll blow some smoke into your mouth okay?” He murmurs and takes another drag, holding your jaw open, he blows the smoke into your open mouth, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

Your hands reach up and cup his face, leaning into the sudden display of intimacy. He brings one of his large and calloused hands up and smacks your ass playfully, eliciting a giggle from your lips.

“Promise me you’ll never get involved in the heavy shit, smoking weed is bad enough, I don’t need your pretty little self dropping acid and then dropping dead” he murmurs between kisses.

“Never.. I’ll never” you promise him, knowing that you’re too much of a pussy to do anything beyond maybe shrooms.

“Good girl, and I’ll put a bullet into anyone who tries to sell you anything, you can’t trust anyone, they’ll get you woozy then rape your cunt baby, it’s not safe to do this shit.” He warns with absolute seriousness. How ironic.

“I won’t do any drugs Coryo, you have my word” you giggle gently and scoot up on his lap

“You little tease, need me to show you who you’re fucking with right now?” He jeers and throws the joint on the floor, grinding it beneath his heal before he picks you up and carries you to his, surprisingly nice, car.

“My place isn’t too far, I’ve made enough money for tonight, right now all I need is your pussy baby” he pays your thigh and buckles you in before climbing into the drivers door and closing it, immediately speeding off.

——

Coriolanus’ apartment was actually really nice, a pretty spacious area, a nice part of town, you’re surprised he doesn’t already have a lady to call his own. Though I suppose he does now.

“Nice isn’t it? Told you it’s profitable” he murmurs and locks the front door behind you two, immediately scooping you up for the second time that night and carrying you to his bedroom.

His hands are immediately all over you, and your hands all over him. He reaches and slips off his jacket, tossing it, the gun, his cash, and any access drugs, across the room.

Coriolanus almost immediately reaches up your dress and cups your pussy in his hand “fuck me, was it me who turned you on? Maybe my gun?” He teases.

“Coryo..!” You whine and buck your hips up like a bitch.

“That’s me, don’t worry baby, I won’t be too mean” he coos and pulls off your panties, throwing them into the pile of his stuff.

“Oh fuck me princess..” he murmurs and looks over your cunt. The visual in front of him is pornographic. Your pussy was glistening wet and puffy, your swollen and pink clit poking out of your folds a bit.

“Can’t resist baby-“ he cuts himself off by diving into your cunt like it’s his death row meal, the skilled muscle that is his tongue poking and licking up your sex.

“mmm! Coryo!!” You whine and hold his head (since he has no hair to hold on to) “so good! can’t.. oh god..” you buck your hips up and he hold you in place with his strong hands.

He continues to devour you, his nose every so often bumping your clit, eventually, he brings up his hand and starts to draw lazy circles around the bundle of nerves.

“Gonna cum! Coryo..! My tummy..” you whimper and lean your head back, savoring the feeling of your new, hot, drug dealer friend eating you out like your arousal was a sacred elixir.

His name fell from your lips like a prayer as you came against his face, grinding your hips and pressing his face against you while you rode out your orgasm.

A string of spit connected his lips and your cunt, his whole face flushed and sticky with your cum.

“Taste so good sweetheart” he groans and pulls your dress over your head, immediately unclipping your bra and attacking your, now very sensitive, nipples.

“mmm… so good for me, my good girl..” he groans and pulls you into his lap as he goes into a sitting position. Moving his attention from your tits to your lips. “Gonna ruin that perfect pussy, mold you into my perfect doll, use you whenever I want” he growls and pulls his hard, fat cock out of the confines of his pants.

Laying you on your back, he uses his hands to press your knees to your chest, allowing him the most perfect view of your dripping and sensitive cunt.

“So good baby girl” he praises as he slides his fat tip across your glistening folds.

“Please.. please.. need it so bad..” you blabber out and whine.

“I know baby, I know. Let me just..” he slips the tip in and growls “fuck me doll” he hisses and uses every bit of self restraint to not jackhammer into you.

“More! Please..!” You beg, his cock sliding into your tight walls inch by inch until the tip kissed your cervix

Coriolanus gave you a second to get used to his size before he started to pound into you mercilessly, his hips snapping to meet your clit. “Can see myself in your tummy baby, so good for me, ‘m so fucking proud of you doll” he groans and increases his pace impossibly faster.

“Gonna fucking cum.. you love being my cocksleeve huh? My pretty little fleshlight.” He coos and keeps up his impossible pace until you whine and groan, cumming the second time. He pulls out and tugs his cock twice before cumming on your stomach.

“Oh fuck princess, so fucking pretty huh?” He murmurs and hold your face, kissing your swollen lips.

“So good Coryo..” your voice is weak, as is the rest of your body, but before you can get up he stops you.

“You think I’m done? Very funny princess, maybe I’ll snort a line off your perfect tits” he teasingly thinks out loud.

You were in for a very long night.

#anisangeldust #coriolanus snow #angels yapping #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow smut #hes so babygirl #tom blyth #⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚angel #angel dust #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #dealer!coriolanus #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x y/n #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus fanfiction #4/20 #420 #cocaine

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howi99 · 2 months

Text

Knight and traitor 1

Jaune: *bleeding out, unable to move as Cinder is about to finish Pyrrha*

Jaune: *weakly* God... Devil... I don't care who might be listening... I will give you my life, my soul *cough blood* ... My very existence... But please, give me the strength to protect them...

*time stop*

???: *a silhouette made of light appears* Well well well, what do we have here? You think of yourself quite highly if you think your soul is enough of a payment. *Sit next to Jaune, lighting a... cigarette?*

Jaune: *slow chuckle* I always was greedy after all... *Cough more blood* Always wanted to keep everyone in my sights safe.

???: *taking a drag from her cigarette* Hm... Greedy you say? *Chuckle* i know a thing or two about that. *Look at Cinder* Say, if i help you with your little problem, will you give me a name?

Jaune: ... What?

???: *rubbing her chin* I got some... Bad memory with my old name. I uh... Kinda have a bad reputation.

Jaune: ... And you want me to name you?

???: Hey, that's a better deal than your soul, isn't it?

Jaune: ... And how will you help me protect my friends?

???: *laugh* Now THAT'S the real question! *Get up and goes to Cinder* Now, as you can see *try punching Cinder, but his fist only goes through her, aimlessly* I can't interact with anyone. BUT! *Walk back to Jaune* I can be your sword!

Jaune: ... What?

???: *cough* I mean, as of right now, i'm basically just a wandering soul. But if you make a pact with me, i will be able to fight by your side! *Grinning* You got some mean Od in ya.

Jaune: Od?

???: *shrug* Eh, think of it as your Aura. It's a synonym from where i'm from.

Jaune: hm... Alright, i'm good with that.

???: Neat. *Looking at Jaune* Also, don't know if you noticed it, but i took the time to heal ya. The weird lady told me i could only do it once, so don't take that for granted.

Jaune: *still unable to move* I did feel like i wasn't dying anymore... Thanks.

???: So, that name?

Jaune: hm.... We name people with color. You got something to help me with?

???: ... I'm blond?

Jaune: *sigh* Yeah, like my whole family. Anything else?

???: ... I like red?

Jaune: Eh, that will do. Your name is now Red!

???: ... You lack imagination.

Jaune: Well, RED, i'm kinda more preoccupied in saving my partner ass over thinking of a name.

???: ... *Shrug* Eh, fair. The pact is sealed.

*time resume*

Jaune: *gasp for air* RED! STOP HER, NOW!

Red: *appearing before him* Roger that! *Goes to summon her sword, but nothing appears* ... Fuck!

Cinder: *turning her head to see what is causing the commotion* Who... *Shack her head* no matter, i got the maiden power, that is enough... For now. *Leave*

_________________

Jaune: And that's about it.

Qrow: *look at Red* So, you mean to tell me that this is some magic bullshit?

Jaune: More or less bullshit then the maidens?

Qrow: ... Fair *drink from his flask*

Red: *looking at Qrow* ...

Qrow: Something to say?

Red: *shacking her head* Nah, you just remind me of someone... *Take a cigarette from her pocket* Want one?

Qrow: ... Eh, sure. Been a while.

#jaune arc #rwby #rwby au #qrow branwen #fate series #Knight and traitor AU #saber of red

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dango-milk · 2 years

Text

to make them love me (and make it seem effortless)

pairings: aemond x fem! Targaryen! reader / original female character

word count: 15,046

genre: fluff, angst

content warnings: TARGCEST, age gap, mentions of death, mentions of childbirth, swearing (aemond has a potty mouth)

additional notes: we interrupt your regular genshin x reader viewing by bringing you this (big) little thing I wrote for aemond targaryen. he had me in a chokehold until I finally relented and. this is it.

expect a couple more works on this pathetic little meow meow and an eventual update to an ode to heartbreak!

read this work on ao3

“I don’t understand,” Aemond says in disbelief, pushing his helmet’s visor out of his face as he attempts to decipher the contents of the note. “How could I have not been informed of this earlier?”

Ormund shrugs. “Perhaps the tourney masters thought it best to rearrange the lists. More signed up for the games than they thought.”

“Their poor planning does not justify an inconvenience on my part,” Aemond scoffs. “I am a Prince of the realm. I should be placed higher up on the lists.”

“Never mind that, cousin,” Ormund attempts to console him. “It is your first tourney, after all—”

“—and yet it is one we all look forward to seeing.”

The two look up to see Aegon sauntering into the hall, grinning from ear to ear as if he’d just been privy to a particularly humorous joke. Aemond rolls his eyes as he shoves the note into Ormund’s hand.

“Why so tense, dear brother?” Aegon nudges Aemond playfully. “I only speak the truth. You’ve never really thought much of tourneys.”

“Some of us like to keep most of our thoughts to ourselves,” Aemond shoots back, as he fiddles with his armor. “Where’s Helaena?”

“Back in the castle.” Aegon jabs his finger behind him. “All the shouting was getting to her, so Mother had me escort her back.”

At Aegon’s words, Ormund’s expression lit up in realization. “Perhaps it was the Queen behind it!”

“Shut up!” Aemond hisses, at the same time Aegon asks, “Behind what?”

“Er…” Ormund scratches his head, lowering his gaze in response to Aemond’s murderous one. “Behind, er, the Princess’ nameday tourney.”

Aegon scoffs. “My mother can hardly be credited for my sister’s nameday tourney. We all celebrate our namedays for days at a time, with tourneys and feasts galore.”

He glances around, taking in the sight of the contestants and squires milling about the area. “Though our sister’s nameday tourney has, indeed, piqued the interest of all. How strange.”

“Hardly,” Aemond mumbles. “She comes of age today.”

“Ah!” Aegon claps his hands. “Our beloved sister comes of age today, yes. I wonder just what the prize is for this tourney.”

“Surely, His Grace would not decide who Princess [Y/N] marries based on who wins today’s tourney?” Ormund says, blissfully unaware of Aemond slightly wincing at his words.

Aegon frowns. “Have you never picked up a history book, cousin?”

“Have you?” Aemond retorts.

“Of course I did. I never said I read them, though.” Aegon sniffs. “It’s not usual, but it’s certainly not new. Tourneys are simply pageants in all but name. See for yourself.”

The trio turn to see a tall, sweeping teenager, with locks the color of night and skin like copper parading about the hall, his bronze armor chased with red, a spear piercing the sun on its front.

“Qoren Martell,” Aemond whispers, a sense of dread washing over him.

Aegon hums. “Came in right at the last second, as they were drawing up the lists.”

Ormund turns to Aemond, holding up the note he had been reading earlier, an expression of understanding dawning on his face. Aemond fidgets beneath his armor, hating that Aegon had a point for once; there really wasn’t any other plausible explanation for Dorne to finally start taking an interest in the Crown’s affairs.

Aegon looks over at him, seemingly contemplating his next line. He decides instead to clap Aemond’s back, sending him forward. “Oh, don’t worry, brother! The Dornish don’t mind sharing their lovers. They seem to enjoy it, in fact.”

Aemond turns and walks briskly away from his brother, Ormund hastily trailing beside him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Of course, Aegon had to press further, keeping up with Aemond’s pace in a couple of long strides. “Oh, but I think you do,” he says. “If there’s anything the Dornish get right, it’s their outlook on bastards. I’m sure Prince Qoren wouldn’t mind if [Y/N]’s children turn out to have silver hair and a remarkable resemblance to a certain other Prince—”

Aemond stops abruptly to stare Aegon directly in the eye. “[Y/N] is not you. You would let our sister disgrace herself and put the stability of the realm at risk?”

Aegon towers over him, smirking triumphantly. “You and I both know that’s not any of your concern.”

“Then you do not know me.” Aemond turns away again, walking towards the edge of the hall where the tourney field was being set up. Hordes of people continued filing into the stands, some of whom were dressed to the nines despite the sun beating down upon them like a drum. He glances at the King’s Box, watching as the newest arrivals, the Velaryons, occupy their seats next to Rhaenyra and her children.

A mix of gasps and cheers sound from the smallfolk as a shadow passes over them, coupled with a familiar-sounding roar. Aemond squints up at the sky, and his heart practically leaps at the sight.

The voice of the Master of Revels announcing your arrival is all but drowned out by Silverwing’s proud roar, as you land her atop the King’s Box, jostling the people inside. Rhaenyra grabs the end of Lucerys’ coat to keep him from falling off trying to look up at you, while Lyonel Strong steadies a visibly surprised Viserys. Aegon lets out a hearty laugh at the sight, and Aemond could not help but join in.

It’s only when the she-dragon lowers her neck does Aemond finally get a better look at you. You’re grinning from ear to ear, and the only thing that could compete with the brightness of your smile was the glint of your silvery hair in the sun. Your dragon climbs down the Box, much to your family’s chagrin as they grip the arms of their chairs to stay steady.

Silverwing dips herself to the ground of the tourney field, allowing you to dismount and pat her neck before you wave to the crowds. You don a black dress chased with blue (which Aemond presumes is for your late lady mother, who was an Arryn), with the Targaryen three-headed dragon embroidered on your front.

“A fly might make its way down your throat if you don’t close it,” Ormund murmurs in Aemond’s ear, and he only sniggers as Aemond elbows him in the stomach. When your eyes meet his, he prays his ears aren’t as red as he thinks they are.

“Seven blessings on your nameday, dear sister,” Aegon says, pairing the mock reverence in his tone with an exaggerated bow.

You only snort as you remove your riding gloves. “Save your courtesies for someone who actually believes them.”

“Now, is that any behavior befitting a lady who has just come of age?”

You deliver a playful punch to Aegon’s midsection, which he just barely dodges.

Ormund bows. “I wish you a happy nameday, Princess.”

Aemond fidgets nervously, silently cursing both Aegon and Ormund for getting to greet you first.

You smile warmly. “Thank you, Ormund.” When you turn to look at Aemond, you reach out to push his visor out of his face. “Finally joining the lists today, eh, Aemond? I never thought you were interested in jousting.”

Aemond opens his mouth, but no sound leaves it. Behind you, Aegon raises his eyebrows, giving him a look that says, Say something!

“I…decided to test my skills today,” Aemond manages.

Aegon silently gestures for him to keep going.

“…and I thought your nameday would give me extra luck,” he adds, now feeling the blood rushing to his cheeks.

You laugh, reaching over once again to pat the front of his armor. He wonders if you can feel his heart hammering underneath the cold metal.

Aegon clears his throat, glancing at something behind Aemond; in his periphery, he sees Qoren Martell hovering around the group. Ormund, miraculously, gets the silent message.

“If you would excuse us, Princess,” the Hightower lord says, slapping the back of Aemond’s armor. “As his loyal squire, I have a duty to get Prince Aemond ready.”

You nod in understanding. “I will pray for your opponents,” you say solemnly, and a genuine smile finally breaks out onto his face.

“Will you allow me to escort you back to the King’s Box?” Aegon says in his mocking tone once again, and you wrinkle your nose before dropping your hand into his.

Ormund pushes Aemond in the other direction. “Come now, my Prince,” he says. “You’d better get ready if you want to win the Princess’ favor.”

“I’ve been put in the lower lists,” Aemond reminds him miserably, while keeping his eyes trained on Qoren Martell attempting to strike up a conversation with you.

“What of it?” Ormund scoffs, suddenly sounding confident. “It just means you’ll score more victories. Makes the final one all the more sweet. Just trust your training, and you’ll have Qoren Martell on his fat Dornish ass before you know it.”

It seemingly only takes a split second for all the air to leave Aemond’s lungs when he crashes into the dirt. Though his armor had taken the brunt of his fall, pain shoots all over his body like tendrils of lightning, ironically leaving him feeling momentarily weightless.

He manages to roll onto his back, gasping for air and staring up at the sky above. The ringing in his ears subsides enough for him to hear the triumphant shouts and the shocked gasps of the crowd, as well as the neighing of his distressed horse. He blinks the stars out of his eyes, and after remembering seeing a Bolton squire die from a lance to the throat, he checks himself for any injuries. To his relief, he seemed to be physically fine.

“My Prince! Aemond, cousin!” Suddenly, Ormund was hovering over him, distress and clear fear in his eyes. “Speak to me, are you alright?”

“I’m…” Aemond coughs, feeling his lungs constrict, then relax. “I’m fine.”

A tourney master joins Ormund. “Will you continue with a contest of arms, my Prince?”

Ormund helps Aemond sit up, and he catches a glimpse of his sword lying off to the side. He blinks again, and his vision finally returns to normal; he sees his opponent (who, by the stag on his armor, Aemond surmises is a Baratheon) jumping off his horse and running over to him.

You fool, Aemond wants to shout. If your opponent wished to continue, you might have benefited from the distance.

But he glances over to the King’s Box, where members of his own family were peering over at him, awaiting his decision. His mother leans over the railing the furthest, so much so that her ladies were trying to restrain her.

He does not see you.

Aemond sighs and shakes his head, and the tourney master nods.

“Prince Aemond forfeits! The winner of this round…”

“My Prince!” The Baratheon boy tosses his helmet to the side, sticking his hand out. Aemond clicks his tongue, but accepts the gesture, allowing his opponent to pull him up. “It was an honor to tilt against you, Prince Aemond. I hope to be given the opportunity again.”

Not likely, Aemond wants to snap back. But he only gives the boy a brief smile and a respectful nod, before turning away.

“Do you need help?” Ormund offers.

“No, be quiet, keep walking,” Aemond commands, keeping his head held high. He nods and waves to the crowds shouting out their congratulations to him, deliberately ignoring the pain he was starting to feel in his left leg.

As soon as he was out of both the public and his opponents’ sight, Aemond finally gives in, grabbing the wall for support as he reaches down to tug at his armored leg.

“Aemond!” Ormund throws one of Aemond’s arm over his shoulders. “Sit down, I’ll call the maesters.”

“No, no need,” he hisses in reply. “Just help me get my armor off.”

“But you might have twisted or broken your leg, I—”

“If I had twisted or broken my leg, you’d think I’d bloody well know, wouldn’t I?” Aemond snaps. “You’re my squire, act like it. Just take off the damn armor.”

Ormund blinks. Aemond feels a twinge of regret over the venom in his tone, but elects not to say another word. He instead works on the buckles of the metal, all the while trying to swallow down the growing lump in his throat and blink away the stinging in his eyes. Ormund finally assists him, detaching the parts away and allowing Aemond to stretch his limbs out.

The humiliation weighs over him even as he climbs into the King’s Box. Ser Criston Cole is the first to greet him, and after looking over him to find no serious injuries, pats Aemond’s shoulders. “You did very well, my Prince,” Criston assures him. “Don’t lose heart. You’ll get your chance one day.”

Aemond offers him the same tight-lipped smile he’d given his opponent, and keeps it on as his mother hurries over, worry painted all over her face.

“Are you alright?” she fusses, pushing his hair out of his eyes, looking as if she was about to demand he remove all his clothes in front of all who were present. “The lance—I thought it went through—”

“His armor took the blow, Your Grace,” Ser Criston says. “The Baratheon squire’s lance splintered against it, yes, but there’s no harm to him as far as I can see.”

A Baratheon squire. Aemond’s jaw locks in anger; he, a Prince of the realm, had lost to a Baratheon squire of all people.

Alicent sighs. “You scared me, deciding to enter the lists out of nowhere. Perhaps you should wait until you’re a little older before—”

“Why did you place me further down the lists?” Aemond hisses, keeping his voice as low as possible (but failing to contain the anger in it).

Alicent frowns. “What?”

“I was supposed to tilt against the likes of Qoren Martell,” Aemond whispers furiously. “I am the son of the King, in line to the throne, brother to the Princess to whom this tourney is dedicated to! Why wasn’t I placed where I was originally supposed to be?”

“I am not liking your tone, Aemond,” Alicent warns. “Remember that you are not of age yet. This is a vile, cruel game where men attempt to kill each other for sport. Be grateful that you were even allowed at all to compete.”

Aemond opens his mouth to protest, but Alicent gives him a look so scathing, whatever argument he had promptly died in his throat. He grunts in displeasure and pushes past her, ignoring his father's Council members congratulating him as he goes.

He finds his seat regrettably next to Aegon, who at the sight of him, bursts into uncontrollable laughter. Aemond surges forward, only to be stopped by Rhaenyra's outstretched arm.

"You did well, little brother," she says, though all Aemond hears is the underlying distaste that she seems to reserve solely for him, Aegon, and Alicent. "But settle your scores with Aegon later. I'd rather not ruin my sister's day with any of your antics."

Aemond removes her arm from his path, sauntering forward and dropping into his seat, taking care to crush Aegon's foot underneath his. A heavy hand finds its way onto his shoulder, and he turns to find its owner, a scowl on his face ready to greet them—

"Well done, my boy," Viserys says, a smile on his lined face. "Next time, you'll win. I know it."

One could almost take your words for affection, old man, Aemond thinks, as Viserys pats his shoulder again before settling back in his seat. Still, he manages a polite, "Thank you, Father," before turning back to the tourney still playing out beneath him.

It takes a while for him to realize that you were sitting right across him, already turned to face him with your signature blinding smile. You reach out to pat his interlocked hands. "Father's right," you tell him. "You'll win next time. If you focus on your training."

"I will if you will," he blurts, before he could stop himself.

"Ha! I feel I'm much better at riding a dragon than wielding a sword."

The moment is shattered when Lucerys (who Aemond just realized had been sitting on your lap the entire time) begins to wave your wreath around wildly, causing you to turn away from Aemond to keep your nephew from falling to the ground.

He watches as, to nobody's surprise, Qoren Martell wins the tourney. The Dornish Prince urges his horse forward towards the King's Box, and asks for your favor. Rhaenyra nudges Ser Laenor, the two sharing knowing glances as you stand with Lucerys in your arms and balanced on your hip, instructing the boy to toss your crown of red and black roses into Qoren's hands, much to the delight of the spectators.

In that moment, Lucerys’ curly brown locks no longer suspiciously remind Aemond of the Commander of the City Watch standing right next to Ser Laenor, but of the man staring adoringly from below as you and Lucerys wave to the crowds.

Aemond stands, mumbling an excuse in his brother's ear, and leaves the Box in a hurry.

Having to watch as Viserys deliberately has Qoren sit next to you during your own nameday feast had irritated Aemond beyond measure, given that he could do nothing but pick furiously at his own food as Qoren regales you with tales of his House and region. It had seemed like forever before the King had finally gone to bed, and even then his torture ended bitterly with Qoren bringing your hand to his lips.

Rhoynar scum. He scowls as he slams the door behind him. Your lot come from vagabonds at sea with no real homes. Our blood is the blood of Old Valyria, the blood of kings and conquerors and warriors. She rides the Good Queen’s dragon. What in the Seven Hells could ever possess you to think you could have her?

Aemond opens the window to his room, allowing the cool breeze of the Red Keep to wash over his agitated figure. Aegon’s teasing, Ormund’s obliviousness, and Qoren’s audacity had given him a migraine like he’d never had before, yet he could not find it in himself to sleep it off.

Of course he was fond of you, that much was certain. He’d always looked up to you, asked for your advice, took great comfort in the fact that your dragon had not been born to you either. It had always been his crutch for when he laments his lack of a dragon, what with Sunfyre hatching in Aegon’s cradle and Helaena claiming Dreamfyre shortly before her tenth nameday. Ultimately, though, Aemond supposes he hadn’t much to go on about you other than the fact that you took the time to get to know your half-siblings, unlike your actual full-blood sister.

He’d mulled over the idea of claiming Vermithor, who at this point was the only known dragon that had yet to be claimed after the death of Jaehaerys. He would imagine himself flying alongside the Good Queen’s dragon atop the Good King’s, and what a poetic ending that would be for all his troubles.

A knock comes at his door. “My Prince, I apologize for the late hour,” one of his servants calls out to him. “Princess [Y/N] is here to see you.”

Aemond’s head whips around. “Send her in,” he replies almost immediately.

The door swings open to reveal you, still in the same dress he’d seen you in that morning, the only difference being your hair now let down; a silvery waterfall, not unlike his own.

He turns to face you, heart hammering in his chest.. “What…what do you want?”

“I came to check on you,” you reply. “You fell hard earlier, I didn’t get a chance to check how bad it was.”

Aemond chuckles dryly and gestures for you to sit. “ “How bad it was”, huh?”

“Our family is more than fond of tourneys,” you remind him. “We’re just about the only ones that are not. I would be lying if I said I was not surprised that you changed your mind today.”

“I’ve not changed my mind.” Aemond picks at his sleeve. “I don’t give a shit about tourneys. Never have and never will.”

You laugh, and though it is a quiet sound, he tries to fool himself into thinking it’s more genuine than the ones you’d shared with Qoren. “I’m glad to hear it.”

He sits there with you in silence, and for the first time all day, he relaxes. It’s nice, he thinks, to simply be in your presence, where no one—not even himself—expects him to do something to impress you.

Being with you was enough.

That said, the thought of you leaving for Dorne forever leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Namedays are always a time for celebration,” you begin. “I confess, however, that my nameday…always comes with a tinge of sorrow.

“I went to the Sept with Rhaenyra this morning. It’s always been a habit of ours on our namedays. It’s really less of us praying to the Seven for good fortune, it’s more of…finding comfort in the silence. It…it’s where we hear our mother and siblings the best.”

He nods in understanding.

You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, staring off into the distance wistfully. “Father’s always been good at putting on a mask,” you continue. “He’s good at it, too, probably from all the years he’s had to do it. But today would have been Baelon’s nameday, too. And today was also the day when Mother…”

You duck your head.

Aemond leans forward to capture your hands in his. Despite his own misgivings with Aegon, he had to admit that it was difficult to imagine a life without him. He would have been the heir, forever put against Rhaenyra. Forever put against you, one of the few of her true kin.

You squeeze his hands gratefully. “In any case,” you say. “I am glad you’re no longer interested in tourneys, otherwise I would not have brought you this.”

You produce a box from the depths of your skirt and slide it over to Aemond. He clicks his tongue in mock disapproval. “It’s your nameday and you’re the one giving out gifts.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “I have a whole mountain of them in my apartments, very few of which I would actually care to have. I take far more pleasure giving things to you.”

Aemond shakes his head, finally relenting and opening the box. Glittering among the plush dark velvet was a sapphire brooch, as blue as the waters of the Narrow Sea, sitting in a bed of pure starlight. He lifts it from the cushion and sits the gem in his palm gingerly, admiring its weight and the way it glints, even by the dying fireplace.

“The sapphire was my mother’s,” you explain. “One of many I’d inherited from her. I had it re-cut and set.”

Aemond swallows thickly. “I…I can’t take this. If it was from your mother, then you should—”

You interrupt him by closing his fist over the jewel, holding his fingers down with a firm grip. “I want you to have it,” you tell him firmly. “We are one House now, no matter what others say. None may divide us. Keep this with you as a reminder, you hear me?”

You stare at him with such intensity that he has little to do but agree. You pat his hand and rise from your seat. “Think of it as my favor,” you say, and he doesn’t miss the slyness in your tone. “You have no need to fight in tourneys or any sort of battle to earn it. It will always be yours, Aemond.”

Words he’d been keeping buried for months were bubbling on his tongue now, tearing down the walls that he’s had to construct all his life to keep them from destroying what he has with you. Resistance seemed futile now, now that you had bid him goodnight and turned to leave his room.

“Don’t marry him.”

Your hand had been on the door at his words, and you do him the considerable honor of pausing in surprise before turning again to look at him. “Aemond?”

“Don’t marry him,” he repeats, desperation now leaking into his tone. “Qoren Martell. You were never meant to marry a Dornish, even the first of them, so…”

He wrestles with his words, and you seem oblivious to his agony as you stare, clearly waiting for him to finish. He inches closer and closer to the brink, and there seems to be nothing tethering him to reality anymore, save for the erratic beating of his heart.

You purse your lips, and the expression on your face is something he can’t read—did you think him foolish for telling you not to do your duty? Or did you perceive his desperation as an act of childish jealousy, a brother imploring his sister not to give anyone else the time of day?

What did he think his words meant?

You do not give him an answer. “Good night, Aemond,” you whisper, and you slip quietly out the door.

Your betrothal to the heir to the Dornish throne had begun to sound less like a rumor and more like a given fact, with the endless whisperings fluttering about the Red Keep like irksome flies. Viserys certainly did not do much to silence them, and Aemond had the misfortune of hearing him discuss potential dowries with Rhaenyra.

He had to admit that it was an ideal match, and certainly one he would have considered seriously were he in his father’s place. Any king who would bring Dorne into the fold would be credited with something even the Conqueror could not have done, further cementing his place in Westerosi history. Aemond often dreams of having his name written down in the history books, never just as an afterthought or a simple second son, but of a warrior king who made the Seven Kingdoms truly one, with a queen by his side who would cast a shadow over all who would succeed her.

But like his position in life, all his dreams had to occur in the darkness of the wings; the only good thing about it was that, given their unlikeliness, he was free to dream just a little bit more.

In a surprising turn of events, however, he’d received the news that you had suddenly mounted Silverwing and taken off. At that moment, Aemond truly curses the lack of a dragon—he could have just gotten on and tracked you down, not go through the humiliation of asking Aegon (or any of his kin, for that matter) for a favor. He would have had to explain why it was so important for them to take time out of their day to find out where you had gone, because beyond you being a Princess of the realm, he had no other reason (that he’s willing to admit, at least).

Even Helaena, whom Aemond had realized could see things before they happened, offered no help in this matter. She had even expressed confusion at the very notion, much to his frustration.

So, he turns to his last resort.

Jacaerys looks up from where he was cleaning his armor, clearly surprised to be addressed. “She isn’t at Dragonstone,” he tells Aemond. “She could be anywhere, for all we know.”

“She didn’t tell you anything?” Aemond presses. “No notes, anything?”

Lucerys fiddles with Aemond’s gauntlets, and for a brief moment, Aemond sees you in his little face. “I think she’s gone to Daemon.”

“Prince Daemon? Why would she…”

“It’s just a guess,” Jacaerys says, scratching the back of his neck. “The last we heard of him was that he was in Pentos with the Lady Laena. They’re our only kin living beyond Westeros, and [Y/N] was always fond of Lady Laena.”

Of course. Aemond wants to smack his forehead. It made sense. You, Rhaenyra, and Laena had always been so close. But it wouldn’t have been his first guess, not when a marriage proposal didn’t seem too far behind…

Jacaerys’ and Lucerys’ guess seems to hold merit, as the small council receives reports of a silvery dragon flying east. It’s only confirmed when you finally write to your family, stating that you were indeed exploring the Free Cities and would be staying there for an indefinite period of time.

Funnily enough, your message had arrived at the Red Keep the same day the Dornish party did.

The excuse given had been that you were sent off as an envoy to the southern Free Cities to ascertain the peace, following the Triarchy’s defeat at the hands of the Daemon-Velaryon alliance. Aemond had to restrain himself from laughing in the throne room at the Dornish lord’s baffled expression, as well as the irritation that Viserys had kept well-hidden beneath his kingly persona.

That same night, he’d received a raven from you, carrying a brief message and a couple of trinkets you had collected on your travels thus far. It had been as if a giant weight had been taken off his shoulders, and in the privacy of his own room, he finds himself running his fingers longingly over your handwriting.

But your letters begin to stack on his desk, the gifts you bring him start to collect dust on his mantle, and every day holds less and less promise of you finally returning to King’s Landing. He’d thought you would finally return shortly after Rhaenyra gives birth to her third son, but aside from a written note of congratulations and a messenger bringing gifts, you never do. Aemond finds himself sitting by his window every night, deluding himself into thinking a bird flying over Blackwater Bay or the occasional cloud would be Silverwing, bringing you back to him.

But you don’t, and he finds solace only in his lessons and his training, stealing glances at the sky whenever he has the chance. He’d thought your absence would finally rid him of thoughts and desires unwanted, but all it is is a thorn in his side; a dull ache that flares up every now and then, much like his old leg injury.

When news of Laena Velaryon’s death reaches King’s Landing, and as he sits next to his mother on the ship, his thoughts were only of you, and if you had already been in Driftmark for a while now. He should have known better when he sees no silver dragon sitting amongst the gold, blue, grey, and red amongst the rocks.

After giving his condolences to the Velaryons, Aemond walks around aimlessly, the disappointment sinking in with every passing second. Politicking thinly veiled as courtesies seem to follow him everywhere he goes, and he eventually finds respite in Helaena’s presence, though it would seem she had not noticed his.

Of course, Aegon had to come and disturb it, only to repeat what he had been complaining about for weeks.

“We have nothing in common,” he grumbles, gesturing to Helaena.

“She’s our sister,” Aemond replies curtly, as he has done many times before.

“You marry her, then.”

“I would perform my duty, if mother had only betrothed us.” The words weigh heavily on Aemond’s tongue.

Aegon scoffs. “If only.”

“It would strengthen the family,” Aemond parrots what he’s learned in his lessons. “Keep our Valyrian blood pure.”

“She’s an idiot!”

“She’s your future Queen.”

Aegon lowers his goblet, and from his periphery, Aemond can see his brother watching him carefully. He keeps his gaze on Helaena muttering under her breath, waiting for Aegon to call him out for the double meaning in his words.

Fortunately, he doesn’t. “We actually do have one thing in common,” Aegon says, as he throws the rest of his drink back and reaches for the next, his eyes lingering far too long on the serving girl. “We both fancy creatures with very long legs.”

Aemond only shakes his head in resignation, feeling a surge of pity for Helaena. It’s the first time he actually feels relieved that you had left before you’d gotten any offers of marriage; he dreads the thought of you being doomed to suffer the same fate as Helaena.

A dragon’s cry pierces the air, and Aemond looks up sharply. He rushes to the edge of the courtyard, listening as best as he could with the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks below.

He scours the skies and searches among the dragons already resting nearby, to no avail. His shoulders sag; perhaps you weren’t coming, after all.

But that same cry persists, even as the sun begins to sink into the sea. Aemond has never heard a sound like it before—this one was a melancholic melody, like longingness taking flight above the waters of The Gullet. It isn’t long before his attention is drawn from searching for you to searching for the source of the sound instead, somehow feeling as if it was calling out to him.

And then it happens.

A clear and piercing trill that he initially chalks up to one of the other dragons, had it not been for Rhaenyra looking up, surprise painted all over her face. Aemond follows her gaze, and even in the setting sun, it’s clear as day—

He momentarily forgets himself and runs over to his half-sister, tugging on her sleeve. “It’s her, isn’t it?” he asks, unable to contain his excitement.

“It is,” Rhaenyra replies, pure relief in her tone. She glances down at Aemond, and it’s perhaps only then does she realize the peculiarity of the situation; he doesn’t remember the last time he’s ever had a casual conversation with her. Aemond lets go of her sleeve, clearing his throat and taking off in the other direction with his head spinning.

It takes a while for you to show up, but when you do, you’re soaked to the bone, with Laenor Velaryon’s arm wrapped around your shoulders and his other arm around his squire on the other side. The whispers come to a standstill, partially at the sight of you and partially at the sight of the future Prince consort looking as if he was about to follow his sister at any second. You must have found him, Aemond thinks, about to keel over into the water.

At the sight of his father, however, Ser Laenor steadies himself and limps away, leaving you in the middle of the crowd. No doubt you feel all eyes on you, but you straighten and walk to your father, who now looks as if he’s ten years younger again.

Aemond doesn’t get the chance to speak with you, not while you remain glued to Viserys’ side, leaving only to speak with Rhaenyra, Daemon, and his daughters. You’ve not changed at all over the years, save for your hair, which you had cropped short (presumably for it to not get in the way of your flying), and for your gait, as a certain confidence exudes from you as you walk or simply stand. But you were still you, much to his relief.

His thoughts take him back to the strange cry, which rings out well into the night. It’s only until his mother commands him to go to bed that he realizes Viserys has long left and you are nowhere to be found. He waits for his mother and siblings to head into the castle before heading down the stairs, down where you had come bringing your good brother.

He doesn’t have to search long for you—you’re right there on the beach, your head tilted upwards as if in silent meditation. The sand crunches underneath his feet as he closes the distance between you two, and just as you’re within arm’s reach, he stops.

And he waits.

When you finally turn, you regard Aemond with the same smile that had greeted him on your nameday all those years ago, tinged with just a bit of sadness. He wonders if you get your seemingly eternal warmth from the late queen; whatever the case, he certainly has never felt it with any of his siblings, even the one you share all your blood with.

“You’ve gotten tall,” is the first thing you say to him. “You’ll probably be as tall as Daemon.”

“I’ll be taller,” he promises, and your smile grows wider, only for it to drop just as quickly. Aemond remembers the very reason you had come, and the history you shared with Laena. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

You turn back towards the beach, and Aemond moves to stand next to you. “It is our loss,” you correct him. “Laena was kin to you and me both.”

Aemond nods in response. You duck your head and sigh deeply, the grief you feel leaving you looking aged. “I left Pentos the day before she died,” you whisper. “I promised to be back for the birth, but…”

“They say she went into labor early,” Aemond says. “You couldn’t have known.”

You keep your eyes trained on the ground. “I don’t think I could have borne to see it,” you continue in a shaky voice. “She died trying to birth a son, and my mother—”

You choke on the last word, and for a moment Aemond fears you would start crying. He reaches for your hand, and you squeeze it gratefully in response.

But you don’t, and instead take the time to be silent and count your breaths, all the while holding onto his hand like an anchor. When you raise your eyes to the sky once more, he sees all the stars reflected in them.

When you speak again, your voice is steadier. “You remind me of her, you know. Laena.”

Aemond struggles to find an answer, one that would insult neither you nor the deceased. You seem to sense his hesitation, and you squeeze his hand again. “Our dragons weren’t born to us,” you say, confirming his thoughts. “Though I became a dragonrider earlier than she did. She cried the first time I mounted Silverwing, and cried again when I took her up years later.”

“The second time…out of fear?”

“At first, I suppose. But she was laughing, too. Always a wild one, Laena was.” You sigh. “You’re just as spirited as she was. Fearless. Bold.”

“If I were fearless and bold, I’d have a dragon by now,” Aemond grumbles.

“It isn’t that easy, I fear,” you tell him. “I’ve spoken to scholars and warlocks and magicfolk of all kinds in the Free Cities. Some of them are of the opinion that dragons are not as willing as we might imagine.”

“We’re a family of dragonriders. One dragon-less member is hardly enough to discredit that fact.”

“Our Valyrian blood is the exception, not the rule. Had we been so confident in its mere presence, I daresay we ought to have more dragonriders around.”

“Especially with Aegon,” Aemond offers.

“Especially with Aegon, yes,” you chuckle. “It may well be that our blood is a contributing factor. But dragons have minds and hearts of their own. Some say they are even more intelligent than we are. The right is not freely given, Aemond. It is earned, it is fought for, it is taken.”

You turn to face him then, and it’s only when you do so does Aemond realize he has indeed grown taller; he no longer has to tilt his head upwards to properly meet your eyes. You take his other hand in yours, and he feels the calluses from years of dragon-riding brush against his skin.

“I told you you were as spirited as Laena was,” you say. “Like her, you are also kind. Compassionate. Smart. Loyal. You are everything our House stands for and more.”

For the first time in what seems like years, a genuine smile spreads across his face. “I’ve missed you,” he admits.

“As did I,” you whisper, and your eyes travel to the sapphire brooch you’d given him all those years ago, nestled just above the middle of his collarbone. You let your fingers skim over the gem lightly, before pulling away from him. “Father has mentioned that we may stop by Dragonstone to see if any of the eggs there take your fancy.”

Aemond’s spirits rise. “Really?”

“Really,” you promise. “If nothing does, Rhaenyra’s told me that if Syrax brings forth another clutch of eggs, you’ll have your pick from them.”

He lets out a breathy laugh; he could think of Rhaenyra’s sudden act of kindness as a way to win him over to her favor, but surely Viserys had agreed to the Dragonstone visit only upon your request. He had never been known to turn you down, and the impromptu visit to the Free Cities was clear proof of it.

To think, you had talked him into it for Aemond’s benefit…

He shakes his head, almost in disbelief. “Wait. You said “we”. You’re coming home? You’re coming with me to Dragonstone to pick an egg?”

You give him another one of your comforting smiles. “If you’d like.”

He nods, almost too quickly. He’d come to Driftmark expecting to have the secondhand grief hanging over him like a storm, not to feel as if he’d been denied the sun for years before this very moment. He imagines walking off a ship onto Dragonstone and leaving atop Vermithor, as he’s always thought of doing. He replays a scene from his dreams where he finally flies next to you, the Good King and the Good Queen’s mounts flying over the realm once more.

He’s almost too happy to notice you’d reached out to brush his hair away from his face. “You might take a little inspiration from Laena,” you advise him. “She was dragonless for years, and yet she did what many thought was impossible.”

“She claimed Vhagar,” Aemond says, his mouth suddenly feeling dry.

“She certainly did.” You squeeze his hands before slipping out of them. “Now, go to bed. Your mother will have my head if she finds out I caught you after dark and did nothing.”

The same cry pierces through the night sky again, and Aemond watches as you head back up to the castle. He wants to call out to you again, to tell you what he’s been hearing all day, to confirm something that had clicked at your words just now.

Aemond stares across the sea, in deep thought.

The right is not freely given.

He turns to the west, to the source of the strange cry.

It is earned, it is fought for, it is taken.

He begins walking.

“It will heal,” Alicent frets. “Will it not, maester?”

Aemond winces as the needle pierces his flesh, dreading the answer; but even with one eye, he sees it on the maester’s face as clear as if he had both.

Alicent audibly sobs at the revelation, and Aemond isn’t sure if his feeling light-headed was due to the blood loss, the pain from the little scuffle he’d gotten into earlier, or just remnants of his encounter with Vhagar. He tries to link it to the last factor; it was the only good thing he got out of the entire ordeal.

He’s no stranger to dragon-riding, as you’ve taken him up on Silverwing many times before. But to be completely alone, to hold the reins and be solely responsible for directing the flight, to ride the largest dragon in the world, a Conqueror’s dragon—

Something flutters in his periphery, and Aemond turns his face to see you, still in your nightclothes. He opens his mouth, about to call out for you, knowing that surely you of all people would rejoice at the news…

But he watches as you rush past everyone else to where Lucerys was, his face still bloody and nose crooked from where Aemond had punched him. Lucerys cries out when you attempt to set his nose, and you shush him comfortingly, kissing the top of his head before checking on Jacaerys.

What little happiness left in Aemond ebbs away as Rhaenyra calls for him to be “sharply” questioned, as Viserys demands he reveals where he heard the rumors over Rhaenyra’s sons parentage, as Alicent loses her patience and attempts to exert justice on his behalf by force. All those he could have lived with…if not for you standing behind Rhaenyra quietly, moving only to shield Jacaerys and Lucerys from Alicent. If not for you barely even sparing him a glance.

When he tells his mother an eye was a fair trade for a dragon, he means it.

But when he thinks about you as part of the price, he's not as certain.

"Be calm, Vhagar," Aemond instructs the great beast. He tries to climb the ropes, as he had the night before, but Vhagar continues to squirm.

He sighs, trying to focus. Walking was already disorienting enough on its own, but flying with a limited depth of perception was another matter entirely. But Aemond's no stranger to challenges—this is just another he has to conquer.

"Obey, Vhagar," he reminds the dragon. "Serve me."

"She feels your pain," someone tells him, in the same tongue.

Aemond grips his ropes tightly, his jaw tightening as he tries to maintain his composure. He turns in the direction of his good eye, and when he finds no one, he lets go of the ropes to turn the other way around. Sure enough, you were there, in full riding gear.

He'd forgotten that he was supposed to stop by Dragonstone to pick an egg. And he'd forgotten that that was probably the only reason you had to return to King's Landing.

Now, perhaps, he's left you with no other choice but to remain on Driftmark, as Rhaenyra and her family did. Worse, you'd probably go back and dig up your own potential match to Qoren Martell.

Funnily enough, though, the thought didn't stress him out as it used to.

"Dragons and their riders share a special bond," you continue. High Valyrian was the most beautiful language to ever exist, and even with all things considered, Aemond still thinks it's at its best when he hears it from you. "What you feel, they feel. Your friends are theirs, and your enemies, they will endeavor to crush."

"You say it like it's a bad thing," he says.

"I say it as a warning," you reply. "You must keep your emotions in check if you want to have a safe flight, without any dire consequences."

Aemond laughs humorlessly. " "Keeping emotions in check"? Is that what you did last night?"

You frown. "You don’t understand."

"I lost my eye," Aemond hisses, pointing to the bandaged side of his face. "On account of that bastard."

"Aemond.”

"You were supposed to be on my side!" He's raising his voice now, and Vhagar shakes her head in agitation. "You understood me better than anyone, you know the truth about our nephews, you were supposed to stand aside and let my mother seek justice!"

"They are our blood, regardless," you remind him gently. "We protect our own."

He stomps in frustration. "You were supposed to be happy for me," he snarls. "I have a dragon now, and all of those warlock shits that you spoke to were all wrong. I proved them wrong."

"Yes, you did," you tell him, and it takes everything in him not to pull his hair out over your patience. "But I hope you know that having one does not change who we are. Dragon or no dragon, you are still you. Still Aemond."

His fury threatens to boil over. "Go away."

"I want to help you, Aemond," you coax. "You've gotten past the first ride, yes, but with one eye, you're going into unknown territory. You will need a new saddle, too. There's still so much I can teach you."

"Go away!" he screams, running forward just to push you away. "I don't need you! Don't come near me, don't ever presume to speak my name, and don't you ever come home!"

Perhaps it had been a trick of the light, but he thinks he sees you flinch. Whatever it is, you try to maintain your composure. "You don't mean that, Aemond."

"I do," he insists, turning and hauling himself up the ropes. "I hate you. Go away."

It takes nearly forever before he finally reaches the saddle. The view from atop Vhagar with one eye certainly was disorienting, but not as bad as he'd originally thought. He looks up to see Sunfyre and Dreamfyre already up in the air, and he gains a sense of pride; he would be flying back to King's Landing with his trueborn siblings.

Out of habit, he tries to ascertain where you were. He deduces you had left just as he'd demanded you to, but pushes the guilt down to focus.

"Obey me, Vhagar," he shouts over the wind. "Fly!"

The dragon rumbles in response, and Aemond holds on tightly as Vhagar makes her way towards the edge of the cliff, before spreading her wings and taking flight. The short drop makes his stomach flutter delightfully, and he tugs on the reins to pull her higher into the sky.

He drinks in the feeling of seeing Aegon and Helaena on either side of him, and even dips Vhagar to greet his mother watching atop the same ship he'd arrived at Driftmark on.

When he finally gets the nerve to look back, Driftmark continues to disappear into the distance, but he can barely make out a familiar figure flying east.

He turns his attention back forward, thinking of nothing but the breeze in his hair and the sun washing over his skin.

The morningstar swings idly at Criston's side as he and Aemond circle each other, like mountain lions about to pounce at any given moment. Aemond twirls his sword in his hand, scanning his opponent from head to toe and watching his every move.

When Criston swings, Aemond dodges, immediately understanding what fight pattern his teacher was about to go for after years of experience. The crowd around him grows, the whispers now starting to irritate him, but he remains calm and collected.

The morningstar comes down on Aemond's other side, and he moves; he treats it as a dance, and the weapon an overeager partner (gods know how many Aemond's had to deal with at feasts).

Criston smirks, but Aemond can tell he's running out of steam. "Shall we have a respite, old man?" he teases.

His teacher opens his mouth to retort, but he's interrupted by a guard by the nearest watchtower.

"Dragon!"

Aemond looks up in confusion. All dragons go straight to the Dragonpit, he thinks. Why would they warn of a dragon, unless…

A high trilling sound, louder than what was normally heard so deep into the Red Keep, causes everyone within the vicinity to look around. Aemond's fingers slacken around his sword—he knows that call.

Silverwing soars into the courtyard, circling the area thrice before Aemond realizes she was trying to land.

"Clear the way!" His voice booms across the yard, and servants, nobles, and guards alike frantically move to open up a space for the dragon to land.

However, it did not seem to be what the silver mount had in mind; gasps ranging from those of shock to wonder echo throughout the Red Keep when you land your dragon atop the very gate, causing those on the watchtowers on either side of you to cry out in fear.

Aemond shakes his head in disbelief, watching in a near-trance as Silverwing dips down to allow you to dismount carefully. The years melt away as you walk over to where he and Criston were training, completely ignoring the stares you were receiving.

"Princess," Criston says, bowing deeply. "You know dragons aren't allowed this deep into the Red Keep."

"Really?" you ask, raising your eyebrows. "There are a whole score of them here, so I did not think it any harm to add one more."

Criston laughs, a short but genuine sound. "Welcome home, Princess."

You nod your head in response, before turning to Aemond. He remembers the last words he spoke to you as if he'd just said them yesterday, and not all those years ago. He remembers panicking after you never indeed come home, opting to resume your travels across the Free Cities.

He remembers spending six years trying to come to terms with the fact that he might never see you again.

What does he even say, now that you've proved him wrong?

Thankfully, you relieve him of that burden. "Brother," you greet amicably.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish, trying (and failing) to piece together a sentence. Criston shoots him a sideways glance.

Aemond eventually settles for a nod, before his sword slides out of his grasp.

You look like you're about to burst into laughter.

"I hope he's better with a sword than he is with women, Ser Criston," you say wryly, before heading into the castle.

As soon as you've disappeared, Criston turns to Aemond, a single eyebrow raised.

"Be quiet," Aemond mumbles as he reaches for his sword.

Aemond doesn’t mull over the potential reasons for your arrival long, as the answer comes to him by the news that you have not left Viserys’ bedside all day, even to eat. He leaves you to it, equally because the incense in his father’s room lingers about him for hours, and equally because he has nothing to say to you.

But whatever your intentions were, they immediately took second place in favor of the news that the Sea Snake had suffered a mortal wound while fighting in the Stepstones, leaving the succession of Driftmark in doubt. Rhaenyra, along with her now-husband Daemon, all but materialize into the Red Keep, no doubt to secure Lucerys’ claim.

Aemond next sees you on the day all claims to the Driftwood Throne were made, just before the entire court had begun to settle in. In a brief stroke of madness, he makes his way over to where you were, drinking in your startled expression before changing course towards Rhaenyra and her sons. He gives them the usual courtesies, much to their bewilderment, and even strikes up a conversation with Jacaerys over their encounter in the courtyard, where he was training. His good eye flickers over to you, silently bidding you watch as he walks over to Daemon.

To his great satisfaction, he’s a couple of inches taller.

Aemond could have sworn he saw you smile.

It does occur to him that perhaps you have come to fulfill your father’s wishes and to marry at last, now that Viserys is on the brink of death and the succession (in Aemond’s mind, at least) remains unclear.

No doubt that thought weighs heavily on Alicent’s mind, also, given that she’s let slip a couple of times that she’d wished for you to marry one of Vaemond Velaryon’s sons. But that plan died on the floor of the throne room along with Vaemond himself, who destroyed his ambition by letting his pride get the best of him.

Through you, any House would have closer ties to the throne, and the various other lineages you’ve been linked to. That House would also be bound to whichever party secured that pact for, and all their strength and swords would be theirs.

Perhaps you’d be wed to Joffrey. No doubt that would keep you on Rhaenyra’s side forever, had you not already declared for her in all but writing. Qoren Martell was no longer a viable option, given that he’d taken your absence as an insult and married some other noble lady. Had Borros Baratheon not already married, you’d probably be his, owing to his House having hosted you in your youth. Cregan Stark. Whomever at the Vale had the claim after Jeyne Arryn. Some old and balding Riverlands lord.

But Aemond has a better idea.

Your serving girl answers the door, and her eyes widen at the sight of Aemond looming over her.

“Is the Princess still awake?” he asks quietly.

The serving girl swallows. “She is, my Prince, but…”

“I thank you in advance for your discretion,” he interrupts, reaching over to place a bag of gold dragons in her hand. Bribery was the oldest trick in the book, and yet it was always Aemond’s last resort; so many things, even principles and skills that people spend their whole life trying to cling to, could be traded at the mere sight of a gold dragon.

To the girl’s credit, she seems to struggle over the dilemma, and Aemond owes it to her to give her a moment. When she purses her lips and turns away, he steps back in victory.

The few times he’s entered your apartments, it’s always empty, on account of you being somewhere else. He’s never had a reason to stay long, if only to bask in the ambience of a room you’d spend a lot of your time in, before turning to other matters that require his attention.

Now that you’re there, however, he realizes it does not differ much from his own apartments. The same layout, but a different air about it. Less cold. More you.

Aemond waits for the serving girl to close the door behind her, and he keeps a respectful distance from your bed, allowing you some time to make yourself presentable.

“The hour is quite late, brother,” comes your tired tone.

“My apologies, sweet sister,” he says, walking forward. “I had to see you.”

You were indeed already in bed, putting a book aside when he stands at the edge. You regard him carefully, clearly wondering about the purpose of his visit, before you sigh and move to throw the covers off yourself.

He holds up a hand. “Please.”

“I cannot see you in this light,” you reason.

“Then allow me.”

Aemond takes the box of matches from you, moving about the room to light the candles. The room glows brighter, allowing him to see the shift you had put on for bed. Your silver hair hangs about you like spun moonlight, and he has to fight the urge to reach out and touch it.

“To what do I owe this late-night visit, then?”

Aemond sets the matchbox down, before turning to you. “I apologize, again,” he says. “I was not certain you’d stay in the Red Keep for long.”

“And why is that, do you think?”

“I regret I do not have the answer. You’ve never really explained the reasons behind your frequent absences from court.”

His direct tone surprises you, and he sees it in your face. But gone are the days where he stumbles over his words, cherry-picks through them to find the ones that would please you the most.

The boy you knew died the night his eye had been taken. And he wants to prove it to you.

“You think your little stunt this evening will not change anything?”

A smirk threatens to play on his lips. “Call it what you will, I was simply expressing how proud I am of my family.”

“Clearly, pride comes in the form of insulting your nephews’ parentage,” you shoot back.

“Is that why you’re contemplating leaving again? Leaving Father to succumb to his wounds alone over the truth?”

He’s never seen you this angry before; you were always the most patient sibling. “Did you come here to try and elicit some anger from me? Was your intention to alienate the only friend you have at court?”

His jaw clenches. “I am the Prince. I have no shortage of friends.”

You scoff. “With that tongue of yours, I am sure that’s true.”

“If you would like to bring my tongue into this matter, I can talk of more than just friends.”

“Your nocturnal activities mean little to me, Aemond,” you say, your tone getting fiercer and fiercer with every word. “If you mean to brag about your conquests, I suggest going to your brother instead of me. Now, if there is nothing else—”

“Why do you refuse to marry?”

Now that catches you off-guard. You look up at Aemond questioningly, but he stands his ground. He will not repeat it. He knows you have heard.

“I—I hardly think any of my decisions should matter—”

“But they do,” Aemond interrupts, moving forward to sit at the edge of your bed. “Had Father been anyone but who he is, you would have long been married by now, with children. Your husband and children would have been Rhaenyra’s, if you insisted on backing her claim. You know the benefits, and yet you refused. Why is that?”

You sigh, fidgeting with the covers uncomfortably. “I do not expect a man, even you, dear brother, to understand.”

“I’m smart. Try me.”

You give him a look so scathing, that if he were a lesser man, he would have backed down immediately. But the fire in your eyes sets his blood aflame, and he wants nothing more than to stoke them.

“My mother died attempting to give Father a male heir,” you say. “Laena gave her life for a son that did not live and wanted to ride Vhagar before she bled out. Helaena has to bear children for a philandering, drunken husband who shares her bed only when he’s out of whores to fuck. Rhaenyra dedicates her life to a realm who will not accept her because she has a mind of her own and not a cock between her legs. History will not give you women that are as miserable as the ones in our family.”

“And yet, you run from your duty to save your own skin.”

You elect not to respond to that.

Aemond sighs. “Qoren Martell would have cherished you. He said he’d wait forever for you.”

“If “forever” meant half a year, certainly,” you mumble. “I have no desire to marry, Aemond. No one expects me to be Queen, nor would my children ever come close to the throne. My only regret is that I never told my father the truth when he was still sound of mind.”

Aemond remains silent, letting your words sink in, while wrestling with his own. You lean forward, letting the covers fall to expose your skin. His eye widens at the sight, and he swallows thickly as you reach for his hand. As your fingers close around his, he has to wonder: were they always this small?

Against his will, his body turns towards you, and he shuffles up your bed so you don’t have to reach that far to touch him. With your other hand, you cup the side of his face, and he briefly flinches when you gingerly brush the pads of your fingers against his scar.

“May I?” you whisper.

He was never one to refuse you.

He keeps his one eye closed as the eyepatch leaves his skin, and is replaced by your curious fingers. He hears you suck in a breath.

He opens his eye to see you regarding the sapphire, your gift to him all those years ago, with a strange sort of reverence (despite the playful jab he had offered). He knows you’ve already seen his missing eye at its worst: swollen shut and stitches marring his face. Now, the scar has healed but not quite disappeared; Lucerys Velaryon had made his mark on Aemond forever.

He’s taken to putting jewels where his eye used to be so as not to scare the ladies at court, but he finds your sapphire fits the best, ironically. The parallels to his father's eye, gouged out by his illness and eaten through by maggots, is not lost on him, either.

"You haven't seen it since it happened," Aemond says. "It's healed. But it has left its mark. There are some things that just cannot be forgotten, as your sister is so often told otherwise."

"Our sister," you correct him. "And I know Rhaenyra regrets the incident, too."

"I don't need any of her regrets or apologies."

"Then why are you here?"

Aemond doesn't answer, and instead fixes you with the same chilling, weighted stare that he’s often been chided by his mother for having. Had you been a lesser being, you would have cracked under the pressure of his gaze.

But you are the blood of the dragon, fierce and proud and unafraid. No man, not even the one you share blood with, could ever make you back down. The look in your eyes ignites something in him; a feeling not unlike the one he gets every single time on dragonback. He steals a glimpse of the smooth expanse of your throat, then lower, and even lower…

Aemond pulls away sharply, leaving your hand drifting midair.

“The entire kingdom expects you to marry soon, rather than late,” he says, attempting to salvage what was left of his self-control.

You tilt your head. “The kingdom, your mother, or my sister?”

“I regret to say all of them do. But your fears will not be ignored.”

“Do you have a better idea, then?”

Aemond hesitates, testing the words on his tongue before letting them leave his lips. “You could marry me.”

Your reaction is what he expects it to be.

You withdraw your hand sharply and get out of bed, and Aemond gets to his feet, allowing you to increase your distance from him.

“Does…does no one listen to a word I say?” you ask in agitation. “I never thought to hear these words from you, brother, I—”

“This match has its merits,” Aemond says. “I will not insult your intelligence by discussing them one by one.”

“Whose idea was this?”

“…Father’s.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Father?” you ask incredulously. “Father was barely able to speak in complete sentences before today, and you expect me to believe he’s behind such a large arrangement?”

“Can you prove that he isn’t?”

All of a sudden, you’re standing inches away from him, a finger jabbed into his sternum and your eyes blazing with anger. “You are not getting away with this on a technicality,” you hiss. “Tell me the truth of it.”

“Is the thought of marrying me that repulsive to you?”

“Not if it’s born out of lies.” You clutch the collar of his shirt. “Why do you want to marry me, Aemond?”

He looks down at you, and his hands twitch by his sides, no doubt wanting to feel your warmth permeate through your clothes. He can feel your heart hammering underneath your ribs, and he’s sure that if you slide your hands lower, you could feel his racing similarly. Your body melds so perfectly to his, and you breathe in sync, as if engaged in a dance of their own. Every molecule of your body thrums to life underneath his fingers, every second that passes between you is charged with a tension that threatens to push the both of you over the precipice, and still you do not see.

He hates that, even with one eye, he does.

You await his answer with bated breath, but he sees the way your eyes briefly flicker down to his lips.

“Aemond,” you whisper.

“To…to preserve the family line,” he answers.

And your face just falls.

You gently detach yourself from him, leaving him impossibly cold despite the roar of the fireplace nearby.

“Well,” you say, clearing your throat. “I’m afraid I will have to refuse you. As I did Qoren. As I did everyone else.”

Your words echo around his mind, as if you’d shouted it to him in an empty corridor. Aemond does nothing but stare at you, and you hold his gaze with a practiced ease.

He doesn’t remember leaving your room, nor does he remember if you’d said anything to him as he did. But the next day, he breaks fast alone: his mother missing, Aegon not expected to wake until well in the afternoon, Helaena tending to the children, and Rhaenyra’s family having left for Dragonstone at first light.

When a messenger arrives to inform him that Silverwing had left the Dragonpit before dawn, he simply waves them away.

Aemond takes the death of his father in stride.

He operates exactly how logic demands him to, what he’s always been expected to do. He takes great pains to track Aegon down and forces him to face the reality that Aemond would have accepted without a fight. He keeps Jaehaerys and Jaehaera company as Helaena is prepared for her joint coronation with Aegon, sobbing the whole time her maids fit her into her dress, all the while fighting back thoughts of you donning the magnificent dress made for a future queen.

He gets through the coronation, and is momentarily forced into action when Meleys and Rhaenys disrupt the ceremony. But when the Red Queen and the Queen Who Never Was depart, he settles back into his work.

None of the things he was doing required emotion. He had no need for it. He’s gone for so long without an eye, he can live without a heart.

It’s why he can accept Borros Baratheon’s terms without batting an eye, why he can choose the first of his daughters that crosses his line of sight. He may grow to love her, he thinks, as he offers her a tight-lipped smile, and he may look at her someday without you lurking in the back of his mind.

But the gods that decreed he’d lose an eye, the gods who damned him to years of being dragon-less, are the very same gods that bring Lucerys Velaryon to Storm’s End.

“Go home, pup,” Borros spits, his voice booming like thunder all over the hall. “And tell your mother that the Lord of Storm’s End is not some dog that she can whistle up and need to set against her foes.”

Lucerys keeps his head up, unwilling to show any semblance of weakness. Aemond wants to laugh; his entire body screams fear from head to toe. “I shall take your answer to the Queen,” he replies, his voice steadying at the last word. “My lord.”

Ever the consummate fighter. Had he not been born a bastard, Aemond might have actually liked him.

“Wait,” he calls out. “My Lord Strong.”

Lucerys pauses, taking a moment before looking back at Aemond. His eyes glint with a familiar fire that only eggs Aemond on.

“Did you really think,” he says. “That you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?”

Lucerys scoffs. “I will not fight you,” he asserts. “I came as a messenger, not a warrior.”

“A fight would be little challenge. No…” Aemond moves to remove his eyepatch, a burst of lightning illuminating the sapphire sitting where his eye used to be. “I want you to put out your eye. As payment for mine.”

Lucerys pales. For a moment, Aemond wonders if he recognizes the jewel in his eye socket. He presumes not, and even with you now forever out of his grasp, he can’t help but feel a sense of triumph. He had something Lucerys Velaryon had not—your favor.

“One will serve,” he continues casually, retrieving the dagger he keeps on his person and tossing it onto the ground between them. “I would not blind you. I plan to make a gift of it to my mother.”

What fear was in Lucerys’ face left at the sight of the blade, and was replaced by an expression of pure defiance. The adrenaline rushes through Aemond’s veins, practically begging Lucerys to make one wrong move. The looming threat of war, the despair that threatens to crush his mother, the look on Lucerys’ face that looks so much like—

“The Princess [Y/N] of House Targaryen!”

Lucerys nearly staggers in his attempt to turn to the door, and the lump in Aemond’s throat rises as you walk into the hall. You take one confused look at Lucerys, another at Aemond, then at Borros Baratheon.

“Am I to host the entirety of House Targaryen in my hall?” Borros shouts.

You raise an eyebrow. “I admit my surprise at seeing two more dragons than expected in your courtyard,” you say. “But, lest my lord forget, you invited me for the Lady Cassandra’s nameday tomorrow.”

Aemond frowns, and Lucerys looks equally confused. Was it possible that you hadn’t…

Borros gets to his feet. “I will not have this,” he snarls. “I will not be spoken to so casually by dragonspawn, and the least of them, least of all!”

Lucerys reaches for his sword, a look of great affront painted all over his face. Aemond turns his attention to Borros, ready to strike at any given second.

Silence falls over the group, interrupted only by the sounds of the storm raging outside.

You raise your eyebrows.

And Borros bursts into laughter.

Floris stifles a giggle from behind Aemond, as do all her other sisters next to Borros. Aemond and Lucerys share a quick look, all enmity momentarily forgotten in the confusion.

“You have not changed at all, Princess,” Borros continues to laugh heartily, as he settles back into his throne. “My father always told me you would have made a better Baratheon than a Targaryen.”

“And as I’ve told your father, I’d leap off one of your cliffs first before I’d give up the life of a dragonrider,” you say, entering the hall and making your way into its center as if it had been your home all this time.

And it’s then that Aemond remembers you’d been hosted at Storm’s End in your youth, and later named godmother to one of Borros’ daughters.

“But I must admit my confusion, Princess,” Borros says, as soon as he’s finished wiping the tears from his eyes. “I hardly think this is the time for celebrating.”

“I fly all the way back from Volantis to be told it isn’t the time for celebrating,” you repeat dryly.

Borros looks at Lucerys, to Aemond, then back to you. You mimic the action, and when your eyes settle on Aemond, it takes a while for you to get it.

Your lips part in shock, and he watches as your eyes slowly widen.

“I’m…I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Princess,” Borros says, his voice sounding the gentlest Aemond has ever heard all day despite the gruffness in his tone. “You know how highly my father and I held the late King in regard. If there is anything we might do…”

“You are too kind, my lord.” You clear your throat. “You are right, of course, this is not the time for celebrations. I will see the Lady Cassandra on the morrow, but first…” You walk over to Lucerys and wrap an arm around him. “I believe Prince Lucerys’ business here is finished. I ask your leave to escort him back to Dragonstone.”

“Granted,” Borros replies. “Safe travels, my friend.”

Aemond seethes as the guards follow suit, and as you press your lips to Lucerys’ ear as you turn him around. “If you leave,” he near-growls. “Then you are craven as well as a traitor.”

Your head whips around, and you meet his gaze with a fury he’s never known you to hold. “Not here,” you snarl.

Wisely, Aemond holds his ground.

You take one last glance at the Baratheons, before tightening your grip on Lucerys and leading him out of the hall.

When the door shuts behind you, Aemond retrieves his knife, just as he hears one of the Baratheon girls scoff. He follows the sound to the lady standing closest to Borros, who had on an expression of pure contempt.

“Princess or not, she had the gall to speak to a Prince like that,” she says. “No wonder she’s not yet married. What man would take her?”

“Maris, hold your tongue,” Floris warns.

Maris ignores her sister, looking at Aemond straight in the eye. “Was it one of your eyes he took, or one of your balls?” she asks, voice sweet as honey despite the venom in her words. “I am so glad you chose my sister. I want a husband with all his parts.”

Aemond’s mouth twists in anger. “Lord Borros,” he nearly spits through his teeth. “I ask your leave to depart, as well.”

Borros harrumphed in response. “It is for me to tell you how to act whilst not under my roof.”

Aemond turns on his heels, barely sparing his betrothed a glance before disappearing out the door.

Despite the relentless rain, all Aemond’s senses were heightened as if he were the beast he rides, focused solely on the hunt. He wants to see that look on Lucerys’ face again—that look of pure fear. Pure helplessness. He wants to see all those years’ worth of misery weigh on his entire being, threatening to crush Lucerys with every second that passes.

The laugh that leaves him is one of pure glee as Lucerys and his dragon just barely dodge Vhagar, and he only urges her after them. He shouts a command, and the great she-dragon opens her jaws, closing with a sickening snap that causes Lucerys to cry out in fear.

The dragon takes Lucerys even lower, and to Aemond’s great dismay, they disappear between two cliffs. He takes Vhagar’s reins and heaves; she follows suit, albeit with great difficulty.

The fog clouds his already-compromised vision, and the only things he sees above the gorge are the tips of dragon wings as it beats up and down. “You owe a debt!” Aemond bellows, the frustration of being denied his vengeance lining every single one of his words. “Boy!”

Vhagar notices it before he does, and moves her head to the left. He barely sees it in the darkness of the storm, but there was an unmistakable flash of white that wasn’t a streak of lightning. He pulls to the left, cursing. Finally took advantage of your handiwork, Lucerys? he thinks bitterly. Flying in my blindspot…who would have thought…

Perhaps the storm had grown fiercer, or the fog had gotten thicker, but Aemond only now gets glimpses of Lucerys’ dragon, unlike the direct confrontation that had occurred just earlier. It was unlikely that it had gotten used to Vhagar’s flight pattern so easily, given its age and how inexperienced Lucerys clearly was…

“There!” he shouts, and Vhagar follows without further instruction. The new direction is one that turns the wind against them, and Aemond wonders how such a young dragon fares in such terrible conditions. But Lucerys and his dragon were now up ahead, growing bigger as Vhagar closes the gap in mere moments…he could have sworn that the dragon was a little brighter than that…

A hard gust of wind nearly blows him back in his saddle; blinking the tears out of his eye, he dodges the cloak that Lucerys had previously donned as it flies past.

Revealing a taller figure in the saddle, sporting bright silver hair…

You sense the shift in Vhagar’s disposition almost immediately.

The roar she lets out is enough to shake the entirety of Storm’s End to its very core, and Silverwing shakes her head, clearly agitated. You glance over your shoulder to see Vhagar being pulled back, and you know you have run out of time.

You could only hope that you had bought enough to allow Lucerys and Arrax to escape.

“Listen carefully, Luke,” you shout over the rain, as both you and your nephew make your way to your dragons. Lightning flashes, and you look to the east; your stomach drops when Vhagar is nowhere to be found. “Aemond will try to follow you as you leave.”

You take Lucerys’ face in your hands. “You must find him and Vhagar first. Get them to chase you, and take them to the gorge just a few miles away from here.”

“How will I—”

“It isn’t hard to miss. Fly Arrax through that gorge, go as low as you can. I will meet you there.”

“But you—”

“After that, go as high as you can and go with the wind so you can go faster.”

“What are you going to do?” he asks fearfully. “Vhagar is the largest dragon in the world, and—and Aemond’s angry, and—”

You shush him, brushing his curls out of his face as you have so many times in his youth. “Vhagar is also the oldest dragon in the world,” you remind him. “And Silverwing and Arrax will look nearly identical in this storm. I will try to stay in Aemond’s blind spot, and trust that his dragon will not know the difference.”

The tears start to well in Lucerys’ eyes. “This is my fault,” he begins to cry.

“It is not, sweet boy.” You pull him into an embrace, and Lucerys grips onto your shoulders almost painfully. When Arrax shrieks, and Silverwing hisses at the sky, you pry yourself out of Lucerys’ grasp, tilting his head up.

“I may still reason with Aemond,” you say. “But at least one of us must make it back to Rhaenyra, to tell her what has happened here. I intend it to be you.”

“But—”

“Be brave, Lucerys,” you tell him, and in High Valyrian, you command just as much as you soothe.

Your mother had told you to be brave, too, just days before she’d died on the birthing bed.

Was that the same fate that awaits you in the jaws of a dragon? You suppose that, one way or another, you would leave this world in the same manner.

You find a rocky beach, and you will Silverwing towards it. The pebbles crunch in a strange sort of symphony under her feet, as it does under yours when you dismount. The waves pummel the shore just inches away from where you stand, waiting for the inevitable.

You press your forehead against Silverwing’s head, feeling the she-dragon purr at the contact. No doubt she was feeling the same things you were feeling, after so many years of flying together, but you want to let her know how much she means to you.

A terrifying growl shakes the beach, and Silverwing hisses as Vhagar appears just above you. You hold onto her as the dragon hits the ground, her sheer size causing nearly half of her body to be submerged in the ocean.

You watch as her rider dismounts, his blade glinting in the darkness as he makes his way over to you. When you move to meet him halfway, Silverwing blocks your path, wailing. You feel a surge of affection for your dragon wash over you.

“Be calm,” you instruct her. “Obey.”

Silverwing keens in protest, but obliges, withdrawing reluctantly, only to roar in contempt when Aemond points his blade towards your neck.

Amidst the heavy rain and thick fog, Aemond Targaryen stands tall and proud, his missing eye doing little to discredit the fact that he now looks every inch a god. You could find no trace of the boy you’d known all those years ago, the one who’d followed you everywhere in the Red Keep, the only one of your half-siblings who’d managed to maintain a solid correspondence with you when you were away.

But perhaps he is still in there, somewhere hidden behind the clear wrath in his eye.

“None can stand between a dragon and its prey,” you begin. “A Conqueror’s dragon and her blood, even less.”

“And yet here you stand,” Aemond spits.

“And yet here I stand,” you repeat calmly.

Aemond studies you carefully. You keep your gaze trained on him, completely ignoring the blade he holds to your throat.

“You know the truth of Rhaenyra’s sons,” he hisses. “You’re no fool, yet you choose not to see it. Would you let the pups of House Strong sit on our father’s throne, and his grandfather before him?”

“They have just as much Targaryen blood as you do.”

“Do not—” He presses the tip of his sword directly against your skin, and Silverwing growls in warning. “Do not dare question my heritage.”

“I would never,” you say quietly. “But surely you see why I cannot let you do this.”

“Would you lay down your life for your traitor kin?”

“They are all I have left.” Your voice quivers dangerously. “You may deny their parentage all you like, but you cannot deny that they are my blood still.”

“I am your blood!” You hadn’t realized that Aemond had dropped his blade in favor of closing the distance between the two of you, looming over you like a malevolent shadow in the pouring rain. “‘Tis I who know you better than anyone else; I, who wrote back to you and sat every night by the windows of the Red Keep waiting for you to return; ‘tis I who study history and philosophy and politics to elevate myself to your level.”

Thunder rumbles overhead, and you blink the rain out of your eyes as you continue to stare up at Aemond. You think you catch a glimpse of the child he once was when he holds your gaze so defiantly, but he scoffs, and turns away from you.

“Lord Borros was right,” he spits. “I stand to destroy myself, risk my brother’s cause, worry my mother senseless, and for what? The whims of the last in line to the throne? A mere afterthought, forever in the shadow of her sister? A spoiled bitch who flees with her tail between her legs at the very thought of duty?”

You shake your head, and despite the gravity of the situation, you have to smile. The rocks crunch beneath your feet as you move towards him this time. When your hand presses against the middle of his shoulders, just opposite of his heart, you feel him jolt.

“Words hurt less to those who have heard the same all their lives,” you tell him gently. “But if it comforts you to lash out at me, I will not stop you. I daresay by the time you end, Luke will have already returned to Dragonstone.”

Aemond growls as he turns and grabs you by your arms. Silverwing hisses and snaps, but backs down when Vhagar moves forward.

“Stop acting as if I was a child,” he demands. “I can challenge the greatest knight of the Seven Kingdoms and ride the largest dragon our world has ever known. I am the closest in line to the Throne. The Aemond you knew died the night Lucerys Strong took my eye, and if you mourn him, you will step aside.”

“I cannot,” you whisper, but you might as well have screamed it in his ear. “I told you on Driftmark, didn’t I? You are still the Aemond I know. The Aemond who fought during my nameday tourney all those years ago, giving it his all despite being out of the lists earlier on. You believed that it was Alicent that put you in the lower lists, did you not?”

Aemond stares at you, clearly not following.

“You thought and acted exactly as I’d hoped. I’m sorry you were embarrassed because of it. But…if you would forgive my selfishness…I wanted you by my side in the King’s box, not injuring yourself on the jousting field for my favor. I would have always given you my favor, no matter how many you’d win against.”

You reach up to brush away the hair sticking against his face in the cold rain. “Because it’s you,” you say, running a thumb down the strap of his eyepatch before gently lifting it up. “You’re my Aemond.”

The sapphire that once sat in the brooch you gave him glints in what little light the storm permits to shine. No doubt that to many, it only serves to further unnerve those who already shift uncomfortably in his presence, but to you, it rivals the stars you’d stared at, thousands of leagues away from home, quietly wondering if Aemond was looking at them too.

The expression on his face is a mixture of surprise, admiration, and pain all into one. You know his true feelings; he’d made it known the night he asked for your hand. You would have given it to him gladly, freely, had he been honest about his reasons. A loveless marriage was the last thing you wanted for yourself in this lifetime, the very reason you’d run away from home all those years ago, causing your own father grief; you weren’t about to have it start with a blatant lie.

You think he understands everything now, by the way his shoulders slump and how Vhagar nearly purrs in content. It’s only confirmed when he reaches for your hand, still warm despite the biting cold.

“You’re not playing fair,” Aemond murmurs. “You would make me a kinslayer…every word you speak will damn me for all eternity, and yet…”

He shakes his head. “You know why I’ve come here. Baratheon’s banners for a marriage pact. You’ve scorned me once before. What makes you think I could ever give in to you now?”

“I dare not force you to choose,” you respond. “But know that I will not move from this place; how you will deny me, I leave it to you.”

Aemond’s mouth twitches. “How kind of you to make things simple for me.”

He backs away, and you close your eyes, waiting for the frigid storm to be drowned out by a shower of dragonflame. You think of Lucerys, and how you hope Arrax was able to navigate the storm all the way back to Dragonstone. You think of Rhaenyra, too, your sole full-blood sister, and the tears that you’d shared together in the Sept on your namedays. Your chest grows heavy with grief at the thought of Viserys, and how he’d begged you with his rattling breath to stay, only for you to leave the very night he’d passed.

You should think about what your death would mean; the pain that would cause your kin, the war that was bound to follow. But your last thought, ironically, might ultimately be of the man who would bring about your demise.

Seconds pass. Silverwing falls silent.

And you feel Aemond’s lips on yours.

#🍡—dango-works #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x ofc #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond x targaryen!reader

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