#HOPEFULLY THIS IS SOMETHING LIKE WHAT YOU WERE LOOKING FOR

[shiny-jr]

✂ damnation [ the crow courier ]

– Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

– Characters: Sebek Zigvolt, Silver, Lilia Vanrouge, Malleus Draconia.

– Note: Not gonna lie, I did not reread this to make sure everything transferred alright. So hopefully the whole story is here.

– Pages: 44

– Not satisfied? Try looking here for the quiz to take it yourself and see where you end up banished!

The Praetorian Imp   |   The Crow Courier

A mask. There was a mask of cold black metal settled on the upper half of your face. It was cold, smooth against your cheeks. This was new. It wasn’t some sort of blindfold, as you could see perfectly and last you heard, they never blinded their prisoners. Concealing an evil-doer’s vision during their banishment was considered a small mercy, something they wouldn’t do, and the judges wanted each sinner to see the fate that awaited them. 

A supposedly horrid fate, but what sort of cruel end required you to wear a plate of armor and a warm cloak? Over your chest, your hand traced the curves and swirls on a metallic chest plate, reaching the black fabric over your shoulders and extending down your back. Removing the mask over your face and turning it in your hands to examine it, the empty eye holes of a feathered fiend stared back at you. The accessory resembled a bird, dark feathers carefully forged into the mask as the end curved into a sharpened beak. It was slightly unsettling, somewhat resembling the type of mask a plague doctor would don during the middle ages in times of peril. 

On the ground, just past the mask you were staring down at, were shreds of paper which caught your attention. It looked as if something or someone had torn a sheet to shreds and disregarded them in the middle of this dark and dreary hallway. Upon kneeling down to pick up a few pieces, your eyebrows furrowed as you attempted to piece them back together like a puzzle. 

Piece after piece, you managed to somewhat make out the painted image despite the face of a crowned figure being burnt black beyond recognition, but the rest of the image could somewhat be salvaged at least enough to draw a conclusion. A taller faceless crowned figure in garbs, beside a queen, holding a bundled baby in their arms that had been torn straight through. Below, on the aged paper was written text reading: Announcing the birth of the princess. A holiday is to be proclaimed throughout the entire kingdom in honor of the princess. 

Why did this all seem so awfully familiar? 

Slowly standing, you jumped upon hearing the rumbling start of thunder. Outside, past the window, dark storm clouds gathered in a hurry above a dense forest and towering wall of thorns. Thorns! Thorns so tall that even from afar, they looked as big as a house! 

“Oh… wow.” You whisper in slight horror. 

The royal family and birth of a princess, a deep dark forest, a deadly wall of thorns–– these were all part of a story. These were points of a fictional story, and yet you were here. Here, somewhere, in a corridor where the walls were dark stone bricks and a long carpet ran along the floor. How did you play into this? The bird-like mask still in your hands and staring back at you, appeared to answer that. The only bird in the story was a black-feathered one, which served as the villain’s little pet.

This couldn’t be real, could it? Why was this your punishment, of all things? How did the story go again? 

A king and queen had a child, a princess, whose birth was celebrated throughout the entire kingdom. A glittering assemblage of folk from all walks of life, foreign and local, rich and poor, from royalty, nobility, gentry, and even the rabble, were invited to pay homage and revel in the festivities. However, the procession was disrupted by the arrival of an uninvited guest, the Mistress of All Evil. She was a malevolent fairy who brought a curse, promising death upon the infant princess. The princess goes into hiding with three good fairies for years, until the curse can pass, but eventually the malevolent fairy does capture both the princess and her betrothed prince. The princess falls into a death-like sleep, and the prince escapes to rescue her. In the process, the antagonist’s avian companion is turned to stone while the malevolent fairy turns into a dragon to face off against the hero in a grand battle, only to be defeated by a holy sword through the heart! 

It caused you to freeze, gulping as you imagined such an end. Stone… You were to be turned to stone! Would that mean instant death, or were to become a prisoner forced to be still and silent until the very end of time or at least until your stone body crumbled to dust? 

A pair of wooden doors flew open, the sudden sound as it slammed against the wall caused you to scream. That, and the appearance of an odd stranger in armor, was enough to make you believe that your end was now and sooner than expected. 

“YOU!” His booming voice nearly ruptured your eardrums as he pointed an accusatory finger. Directing a rather sharp nail, almost as equally sharp as his two front canine teeth which you caught sight of but sharper was the sword sheathed at his hip.

“Me???” You looked at the intimidating stranger, baffled and uneasy. 

The man clad in armor was certainly not a shining knight of goodness or a pure princess blessed by fairies. It became apparent by his pointed nails, sharp teeth, and unnaturally thin pupils that he wasn’t human. What sort of human had slicked back natural mint green hair? 

“Yes, you!! Do not be so dense, human! Who else do you see in this hall?” He stomped up to you, frowning deeply, almost snarling. As he got closer, you realized he was very tall and built like a soldier. At his hip, opposite to his blade, was a mask of dark metal, resembling yours. However, his mask was crafted to resemble a crocodile. “Do not think yourself superior for even a second! You are only valued for the intel you can provide, nothing more, nothing less. Here you are, milling about uselessly while the rest of us search tirelessly for the girl! I shouldn’t have expected anything less from a mortal!” 

Squinting a bit at him, it took a solid second for all those words he spoke to be processed in your mind. Another round of thunder rumbled outside, sounding closer than before. “But… I am stupid?” You smiled a bit awkwardly, watching how the stranger’s face fell with each following word. “Sorry, who are you? I think you have the––” He has the wrong person. Before you could complete that thought, thunder seemed to shake the very walls as its booming clap reverberated throughout the air. 

It was loud, loud enough to startle both yourself and the uncouth bright-eyed one. 

“Have you no decency? You cannot even recall your colleague’s name! It’s Sebek! Sebek! We spoke months ago before departing for the most recent search!” He replied, frustrated that you didn’t remember his name, despite not even meeting before. Was he mistaking you for someone? It’s as if you had been thrust into some sort of role, maybe that’s why he didn’t take you for an intruder. 

“Okay, okay, Sebek. Got it. You don’t need to say it a third time. Please, spare my poor ears.” Raising an eyebrow, you nearly flinched every time he spoke. It’s like he had a megaphone built into his voice box, because he talked in what sounded like shouts. “Also, why are you yelling? I can hear you perfectly fine, you don’t have to be so loud.” 

“Why am I…?” The weirdo, apparently called Sebek, parroted in disbelief as he ran a hand through his mint green hair. His fingers gripping his head, fingers tangled through his own locks. “Why are you still here?! General Vanrouge has requested I look for you because you were absent for an assembly called by the Master! Deliberately missing special councils called by him is deplorable on every level!” Reaching forward, he suddenly caught your arm in an iron grip as he practically dragged you through a maze of corridors until they approached the source of a commotion. 

Better to allow this Sebek character to escort you than refusing and risking him having an aneurysm, you figured. Something in your gut told you to go with it, and don’t immediately bring up the fact that you weren’t who they thought you were, especially now that you had arrived in a room chock full of armed soldiers dressed in a manner similar to Sebek. 

However, all these people had two striking features, slitted pupils and pointed ears. Pointed ears. Definitely not human. Yes, you were stupid, but not stupid enough to expose yourself when you were outnumbered a hundred-to-one. 

“What’s all this––?”

Before you could completely round the corner, you nearly fell back into Sebek as a cloaked figure appeared out of the shadows. They hung from the ceiling, their face in front of yours. A terrifying individual, with thin locks of pitch black and blood red, and a face of a terrifying gnarling beast. “Boo!” 

Wide-eyed, you stared at the figure as you leaned back into Sebek’s arms who didn’t seem as surprised as you. Was this a companion of his? The matching cloak, the similar armor, and… that face of the hanging stranger was metal. A mask. A mask that looked like some horrifying monstrous bat.

Placing a hand on your heart, you closed your eyes and fell back dramatically, playing the part. Your legs went limp, the only thing preventing your form from hitting the cold hard floor was the pair of strong arms holding you up from behind. 

A snicker was the only applause for your small performance, as Sebek jostled you from your act. For some particular reason, Sebek was impatient as he forced you to your feet, but he didn’t dare raise his voice at this surprisingly short figure that somehow floated down from the ceiling like a feather drifting to the ground. 

“This is an entirely serious matter! Lilia–– General, please.” Sebek pleaded, keeping you stuck in place by gripping your shoulders to keep you facing the General. What did Sebek call him earlier? Vanrouge? This was him? 

This Vanrouge character was on the petite side, he hardly looked like a general with his undersized stature and thin limbs. Yet his armor fit him just fine, and on his belt was a great big cleaver that sparkled like jade. Definitely not about to cross him when he had that on his person. 

Cleaver aside, it was really difficult to fear him when he removed his terrifying mask. While yes, his features were far less human than Sebek’s, he was somewhat adorable. When he laughed, you noticed small sharpened fangs while his big crimson red eyes and slitted pupils shined with mirth. Even one of his pale pointed ears appeared to twitch. “I know, I know, but can’t I enjoy one moment of laughter before everything goes to rack and ruin?” 

There was no need to even ask what exactly he meant by that, because again, there was that thundering rumble that shook the very palace walls. It sounded even closer this time, like it was in just the next room over! 

Vanrouge, or rather, Lilia, appeared a bit anxious, jittery as he brushed off his nerves with a quieter laugh. His own hands had gripped your shoulders as Sebek took a step back. “See, this is why you are one of my favorite humans! Mortals are so easygoing and you get my humor.” 

“Thank you? And you’re my favorite…” You paused. What even was he? What were they? In some renditions, there were fairies, but sometimes the creature that was the malevolent fairy and her goons were left a mystery. In one story the malevolent fairy had an army of creatures with animalistic features. Is that what they were supposed to be? It would explain the masks. What if you were wrong? “You’re my favorite little guy.” 

Sebek looked down at you incredulously as if you had insulted his own mother, and you realized far too late that you had quite literally called a General a little guy. However, instead of bringing his cleaver down upon you and splitting you in half or destroying you with some type of wild fantastical twinkly fairy magic, this General only giggled. He giggled, which made you grin like a fool. You had done something right, apparently! 

Deciding against saying the first thought that came to mind, Sebek instead blurted out, “This is the only human you actually talk to! They are the only one among us fae!” 

So that’s what they were. Fae. “Details, details. It still counts.” Lilia dismissed, leading you closer to the very end of the hall where it opened up to a space with more soldiers like him and Sebek. Faes. In a huge spacious room, gathered, listing reports on the results of their scouting missions. Missions likely with the goal of finding the princess. Once there, he placed an arm around your shoulder. Here, his voice was quieter to avoid being heard by the masses. “Come, we know the Master will be in need of some good news right about now, whether you can deliver it or fetch it. It will quell his… irritability. And it may take a human to catch a human. We cannot fully comprehend how your minds work, but perhaps you can understand a fellow mortal’s and finally make this search a success. Go now, courier.” 

Lilia had pushed you out in the open just as the last of the soldiers were wrapping up their report of failed searches. Your dark garbs and metal crow mask had allowed you to blend right in, but it felt like you were a rabbit in a den of ravenous wolves. No one stared at you, because they were far too transfixed on a towering figure not too far from where the General had pushed you. 

As soon as the figure entered your line of vision, you too became just as transfixed as everyone else. Master. This was their master, which could only be the malevolent fairy, fae, in this case. It should have never been possible for someone to have both the facets of a devil but the magnificence of an angel, but he did. Horns as black as night curved atop his head and inky black scales bordered the bases, making it look like a crown while shadows appeared to blend into his robes like fabric weaved of pure darkness devoid of any light. The only light that escaped him came from his eyes, like the common slitted pupils in this crowd yet his eyes glowed an enchanting green like no other. 

It was like a moth to a flame, destined to burn, but you found yourself drawing near behind his dark throne anyways. 

“It’s inconceivable!” He hissed, loud enough so that the entirety of the gathered could hear his voice echo in the space around them. The thunder outside seemed to crack with his every word. The fae, his loyal denizens, shirked back instinctively yet they continued to awe at the malevolent one. “Twenty years, and not a trace of the princess. How is it that this one human, a mortal, has miraculously escaped the vigilant watchful eyes of every one of my most diligent knights and soldiers who have searched all but endlessly, high and low, for two decades? Hm?” 

You kept glued to the wall, the uneven bricks against your back as you attempted to make yourself as small as possible. What were you supposed to do? What could a mortal do against him, the same fae that has the ability to transform into a dragon of immeasurable strength? This fae was the one who would eventually drag you down with him. 

“Humans are numerous, and they are a tricky sort, Your Majesty.” Lilia appeared at the forefront of the throng. Despite the obvious vexation of the horned-one, he continued merrily with an encouraging smile, despite the apprehension of his armored colleagues. “We can’t exactly venture into towns too long without the risk of being discovered or the presence of that pesky iron weakening us. But we make do, and during nights we’ve checked every strip of land from the moors’ borders, to the villages and towns, even the highest mountains. Haven’t we, boys?” 

A murmur of agreement washed over the crowd. For twenty years they had tirelessly searched, and they had no princess to show for their efforts. It wasn’t that the princess disappeared into thin air, this much you could remember. There was a reason they couldn’t find the princess as she dwelled in a cottage deep within the woods with her caretakers, the three good fairies, acting as poor mortal women. What was that reason again…? 

One hand shot up from the crowd, a voice louder than the rest, the familiar voice of Sebek. “Yes, Master Malleus we did! And we will gladly continue our search, comb through every region once more, and check every cradle again all for you to extract your revenge upon the despicable humans and their wicked king!” 

“Cradles…?” The dark fae, apparently named Malleus, directed his widening eyes towards them. His grip tightened on his long twisted wooden staff. You were given the answer as to why they never found the princess within the first years. The faes had forgotten that mortals aged, so the princess they were looking for was no longer a baby in a cradle. 

“Oh no.” Sensing the impending danger, you took cover behind the throne. From behind the throne you peeked out, using the royal seat as a shield. When the towering fae’s green-eyed gaze landed on you by a glance, you stilled like a frozen statue. The hair on the back of your neck raised as your gaze met his. Seeing his eyes become temporarily focused on you, feeling his unholy presence, sensing the incoming disaster he would wrought–– everything about this man, if he even was a man, made alarm bells ring on your head. 

Suddenly, a smile graced his features. It was the sort that masked his frustration simmering beneath the surface. He was close, close enough to reach a hand forward slowly so his fingertips grazed the underside of your chin. Lips curled upward into a menacing grin, but it wasn’t the crazed sort. He was scarily calm as he peered down at you. “Did you hear that, my courier?” 

There were over a hundred pairs of eyes on you at the moment. Watching intently as you leaned back a bit, a chill traveling up your spine as his sharp black nails traced your flesh. You’re sure you were beaming like a simpleton, whether out of instinct or out of some sort of response to your current nerves. Certainly this was how the sailors felt in times of old when confronted by enchanting sirens that lured them to certain doom in watery graves. What were the don’ts regarding fairies and faes of myths? Don’t give your name, don’t lie, and don’t enter the obvious fae traps designed to ensnare curious humans. This must’ve been some sort of fae trap, it had to when he had a face like that. 

Was Malleus addressing you directly because you were the only human in the room? “Yes… Loud and clear.” One corner of your mouth twitched into an awkward smile in return, but you found yourself unable to remove your eyes from his. A brief and quiet chuckle left your lips, “It’s… kinda funny.” 

“Isn’t it?” When he removed his fingers from your chin, you nearly tumbled forward, but you managed to successfully catch yourself before you could crash into him. The fae turned around, beginning to chuckle in his deep voice, a sound which echoed in the tense silence of the packed throne room. “For all these years I have been waiting, and they have been looking for a baby.” 

The General, Lilia, was perhaps the first to realize something was amiss when the Master of All Evil began to laugh. Vanrouge seemed like the type to enjoy a laugh, but this wasn’t just a moment to crow about their recent failings. A moment of clarity dawned on him while his colleagues unsurely joined in on the commotion. Your gaze met his and you frantically shook your head as Sebek rapidly clasped his hands over his mouth in shock and regret upon realizing their mistake and his blunder. You tried to signal them to flee while you yourself retreated further back behind the throne for cover. 

It was just in the nick of time too, as the air began to fizzle with static electricity, growing with every passing second as his laugh became less humorous and more diabolical. There was the same lightning from before but instead of being outside, it sounded as if it was inside these very walls. Crashing and striking every second, one, two, three, four, five, shaking the castle. You felt your eardrums vibrate as you continued to brace yourself behind the throne until it stopped. This was your first true taste of utter terror and helplessness. 

Here you were for a reason, to die, either by stone or before, whether it be by the clubs of the fae soldiers, at the sharp end of a holy sword, or between the maws of the Master of All Evil. It felt like an eternity, but it was likely under a minute, when the destruction ended. Trembling slightly, you peeked out to survey the damage. 

It was a harsh reminder of your current plight. There were no bodies laying motionless, as everyone either had the means to defend themselves or Malleus simply wasn’t aiming for any of them in his burst of anger. The throne room had been largely evacuated thanks to General Lilia and Sebek. Only shields and the occasional weapon were left behind in the hurry to avoid being struck by his wrath, dark spots were ingrained where the lightning struck the ground, a few stones tumbled loose from any walls that were hit as collateral damage. 

If you somehow survived this, it would be no less than a miracle. 

The air cooled, no longer hot with generating bolts of electricity, as the bottom of the dark fae’s staff snapped against the ground and he frowned deeply. Turning heel, his robes swished behind him as he made his way to his lonely throne with his head hung low. As he sat in the quiet empty room, you slowly revealed yourself from behind his throne. 

The fae only glanced at you briefly, as he took a deep breath and exhaled. Averting his gaze away from you, he didn’t strike you down just for staying. In fact, his next words seemed almost out of character for his role as Master of All Evil. “I apologize for my outburst… That was unbecoming of me.” 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you kneeled beside his throne at the right side of his armrest. For some reason, the king of the faes wouldn’t look at you. Rather, he opted to keep his gaze directed at the empty open space of the throne room. “Well, I think that was a reasonable crashout after twenty years of waiting only to hear they were looking for the wrong thing. I’d probably lose my temper too if I were you. You’re pretty patient for waiting even half that time.” 

“I appreciate your attempts to ease my suffering.” Somber. The dark fae was not as cruel as you had originally imagined. Frightening, yes, but he didn’t willingly and knowingly aim to zap his own subjects. After a few seconds of complete silence, he finally directed his undivided attention towards you. “It has been some time since I’ve personally requested my courier to go. The last time was when the… beastly little royal human had been born into this world. But now, due to the ignorance my own kin have shown, I must ask you to venture into the human kingdom.” 

“O… kay.” Slowly you nodded along, already knowing what he wanted you to find. The princess would be the objective. However, even for your knowledge of the story, you only knew she dwelled in a cottage within the woods. You had no idea how to actually go about finding her! 

The dark fae peered down at you, his green eyes staring into yours. Moving his hand to your head a few inches above the armrest of his throne, he carefully examined your every feature. It was petrifying to be analyzed so closely by such a creature of imaginable power, but his otherworldly sort of allure made it almost possible to forget the frightening show of strength you had just witnessed. Almost, but not quite, as his power was just as striking. 

“Circle far and wide.” Malleus began, his fingers against your chin slowly making you stand on your feet but not stand straight. You had to remain in a low stance as if hunched over, he brought your face close to his until he stood. Stood so his figure was towering over yours like an ominous shadow, and so you had to look up at him. These next words were a command, cold and indisputable. “Search for a maiden with hair of sunshine gold and lips red as the rose. Go, and do not fail me.” 

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

Run. That was at the forefront of your mind. The alternative to a life of freedom and chance was appealing when compared to the gruesome fateful end you are destined to eventually meet. It would be easy to escape, given that you already had a black stallion as a steed to transport you from the fae’s moors and enchanted forests to the open fields and sprawling towns where your fellow humans resided. 

Run is what your mentality screamed when you had faced the Master of All Evil and stared him down. There was a good chance that other malefactors who may have ended up in similar situations as yours may have met their fate much earlier. On the ride to the neighboring kingdom’s main capital city, you had plenty of time to think of how you may have unintentionally dodged death. Should Sebek have found you suspicious and realized you did not belong, he would easily have the strength to overtake you; if Lilia had noticed that you were not one of his own, then his cleaver would have been stained red; even Malleus could’ve easily obliterated you with his magic, whether unintentionally or deliberately. 

Run is what you wanted to do when you finally reached the human city. Flee far into the countryside, in a land far far far away from here, completely out of reach for even the mighty fae and his loyal underlings. 

Such an option was tempting, that is, until you actually beheld human civilization. It was jarring, to say the least, the scene was a cold slap in the face, a reminder that this was not at all like the world you once knew. Riding into town, you found it a dreary type of place. Ever since you stepped foot out of fae territory, it’s as if the light had been sucked out of every living thing. Were things always this monotonous, or did the peaceful air in the vibrance of the enchanted forests just make things look worse in comparison? 

This was a medieval era, you were reminded as much by the colorful banners of the royal family and noble houses, the aroma of freshly baked bread, and the strong scent of burning coal and forging irons. People milled about, going on with their daily duties, completely ignoring the stranger that was you. 

That’s right–– to these simple townsfolk, you were one of them! A human, not a fae that which they feared. Perhaps a wandering knight in armor, a traveller passing through, nobody worth a second glance. This is why Malleus thought you were most fit to venture out for clues. However, what you wanted were not clues but answers. Should you stay or go? Risk your life and somehow try to change the entirety of the plot, in the hopes you would be rewarded for your loyalty by the fae king that wielded incredible power and riches? Or choose to run, run and never look back, run and hope you found something better to avoid your punishment? 

This desire for answers was seemingly answered in the form of a stranger. A stranger who nearly ran you over with a brilliant white steed, as you were walking and leading your own stallion by its leather reigns. It was close to the marketplace, but in an isolated corner of the city boxed in by towering brick walls built to fortress invasions. Which is why hardly anyone was there to bear witness as you jumped back, narrowly missing being stepped on by the hooves of the suddenly appearing beast as your own horse grew panicked. 

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” You scowled at the rider, whose face you didn’t see until their horse backed up and you had to calm your own. It was difficult to calm it, it felt nearly impossible when you had no experience with these finicky creatures as you awkwardly tugged on the reins and tried to reach a hand toward it. 

A pale hand came into view, placing itself upon the creature’s black fur on its forehead. “Here, let me help.” Instantly, he calmed the anxious creature with just one soothing touch and the sound of his hushed voice. 

A fae? No, that was impossible! The telltale sign was the soft round ears and round pupils dotting the most entrancing pair of eyes you had ever seen before. It felt impossible to name the color, but it was like dawn’s first light. The hair on his head reflected the evening sun like silver, even his outfit was pristine and not that of a commoner. Gray and white tunic of high quality fabrics buttoned with gold, tailored dark pants with black polished boots, and a white cloak flowing down his back. Even if this man certainly had the grace and charm of a fae, he certainly was not one, he was human. 

“I’m terribly sorry.” Carefully he gathered the black leather reigns in his hands, placing them in yours as his fingers brushed against your flesh. He was warm. “I didn’t see you there, and I didn’t mean to frighten your horse, or you. Are you alright…?” 

A bit taken aback, you didn’t react as he slid the reins into your hands. You were far too entranced, puzzled by his mere presence. No human should be that pretty. The guy was radiant, he stood out so prominently. Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, the words came tumbling past your lips and you only realized how it sounded once they were out hanging in the air. “What are you?” 

The refined gentleman remained mostly impassive, but his eyes widened the slightest bit and he blinked. Slowly lowering his calloused hands, he looked at you inquisitively. Specifically staring at your mask. “My name is Silver. Who are you?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You realized how peculiar you must’ve looked to others. The mask allowed you to fit right in among the fae, but here, there was no need for such a thing. So slowly you removed it and attached it to your hip. “Silver, huh…? Is that a nickname or something? It’s not really original.” 

“No, I suppose it isn’t very original.” Shaking his head lightly, expressionless, his eyes drifted to the ground as he casually admitted, “It was a name suggested by my late uncle who passed on before my birth in a terrible tragedy. My mother and father decided to keep it in his honor.”

When he looked back at you, both your hands were clasped over your mouth. Rapidly, you began to attempt to make up for your blunder, nearly stumbling over your words. “N-No, no, you heard me wrong…! I meant that it’s a very original name. Really. I mean, who else do you know that has the name Silver? Or Gold? Or Bronze? No one! Your name is perfect, I love it.” 

“Oh, well thank you…” Silver managed the slightest trace of a smile, but other than that he remained rather apathetic. Still, he peered down at you with vague curiosity. “You still have yet to tell me your name.” 

“My name?” Were you allowed to even say your name? What if you said it, and a fae heard it, and failed to recognize it? That would be a fatal mistake. “Oh, I have a name. And it’s not a metal-based one, mind you. But, everyone just calls me Courier.” That’s what Lilia had referred to you as earlier. 

The young man tilted his head to the side, looking rather confused as he guessed. “Your nickname is your occupation?” 

“… Yes.” You winced, realizing how stupid it seemed, worse than a name like his, but it was already out in the open. It couldn’t be taken back. “It’s a nickname.”

“I see.” There was no judgement on his end. All he did was nod along, taking it all with grace. Lightly tugging on the reins of his steed, just to keep them close as you did with yours, he looked around the empty street. “Courier, may I ask you a favor? It appears I’ve gotten myself lost. The last time I was here was several years ago, and I hardly recognize any of these roads. I was trying to find my way to the palace to meet with the King. Do you believe you might be able to point me in the right direction?” 

Your ear perked up at that. The King? As in one of the humans that Malleus viewed as a foe? It didn’t take long at all to find a lead! If this lead proved to be useful, then maybe it was worth the risk staying. If Malleus became the victor to receive his own happily ever after, wouldn’t that mean you would receive the same? “The King? Well, you must be someone important to meet with him.” 

“Ah, yes, I don’t usually mention this… It draws far too much attention.” Silver shifted as you gestured for him to follow. You had no idea where the palace was, but it wouldn’t be too hard to move towards the general direction of a towering estate once you saw it. Keeping up with your pace, the black and white horses in tow, he continued, “I have to meet with him because I’m the prince betrothed to his daughter.” 

You nearly screamed in delight. This was perfect! Too perfect! This wasn’t just a lead, this was one of the story’s two main protagonists! Instead, you could only grin, your giddiness probably seemed common to him whenever he introduced himself as royalty. But your excitement was due for another entirely different reason. “You don’t say!”

Furrowing his eyebrows, he responded quietly, a bit confused, “I’m saying so right now…?” 

“No, it’s an expression, duh.” You rolled your eyes, half amused by the prince’s innocence. This was all coming together so well! However, you had to remain cautious. In the story, the crow assisted in the capture of the prince and eternal sleep falling over the princess, but it was due to carelessness that the bird still got turned to stone! “So, you’re practically engaged to someone you don’t even know? Ooh… I’m very sorry for your marriage.” 

Silver paused, appearing slightly confused as he spoke in such a soft and enchanting voice. The prince made simple words sound like a lullaby. “I’m no expert in felicitations, but I believe the saying is congratulations, not I’m very sorry for your marriage.” 

Appearing to contemplate his words for a moment, you then shrug your shoulders and dismiss the comment from him. “Hmm… Nahhhh.” You know what you said. “I meant what I said.”

“What an odd thing to say.” Silently furrowing his eyebrows, he appeared deep in thought as he considered your words. Quietly the prince remarked in a hushed tone, “No one has ever said such a thing to me. Since you said that, it must mean you understand that this isn’t an entirely positive ordeal for me. I… never thought anyone would understand my life long predicament.” 

“What…?” Looking at him with a mix of confusion and amusement, you held back any laughter. All you had done was try to poke fun and tease the prince, not talk heart to heart with him! 

The prince looked at you, a delighted sparkle in his eyes that contradicted the apathetic expression of the royal. Keeping pace, he followed rather closely even as you picked up speed once catching sight of the palace from the corner of your eye. “You understand that this arranged royal marriage is not as grand as most make it out to be. I haven’t even met my betrothed yet.” 

Personally, you didn’t see much wrong with his romantic situation, but that was coming from someone of the outside perspective. Slaying a dragon aside, all he had to do was marry a wealthy princess of unmatched beauty and grace, who he’ll come to love anyways. After the wedding he’d remain royalty, and eventually become a king. “Oh, boo-hoo, what a problem to have!” Actually, scratch that. You wouldn’t want to be him when he was the one who had to face the Master of All Evil head on in combat. Malleus was frightening enough just as he was, but seeing him as a dragon was likely a thousand times more terrifying.

Again, the sarcasm went directly over his head. Instead, he nodded along, keeping pace as his leather-toed boots clicked against the cobblestone street. “Well, I wouldn’t say boo-hoo exactly. It doesn’t quite make me sad, just… disappointed, I suppose. It is a heavy burden to shoulder. Father and Mother believe that uniting our kingdoms through marriage is the best option in protecting us from the fae.” 

“The fae, hm? How scary~” You hummed. Upon the mention of the fae, you cannot help but recall the magical folk with their pointed ears and beastly masks. Certainly the way they came across with their attire could be very frightening. They were a funny bunch, but unsettling.

“I wouldn’t know. I have never met one before, my family has forbidden it.” Silver shrugged lightly, keeping his eyes on the ground in front of him. Conscious of every step he took, he made slow measured strides so as to not outpace you. “Perhaps someday, if I were to ever meet one, we could establish diplomatic relations to mend the harm that our people have caused to each other throughout history. Most humans do not want to fight, and I’d like to believe that the fae feel the same.” 

“It’s possible the fae aren’t all bad.”

For a moment, you pictured it. Peace between the Moors and the Kingdom. While some fae seemed to have an aversion toward humanity, their majestic leader didn’t appear to feel the same. Rather, his loathing was specifically aimed at the King and by extension his Princess daughter, which would then also extend to the daughter’s betrothed Prince currently walking beside you. Silver would be an enemy in Malleus’ eyes by association to the Princess. 

“What? Is your heart made out of gold or something?” You scoffed, distracting from the serious topic with a bit of light teasing. The conversation was beginning to feel too heavy. “Or should I say… a heart of silver!” When you only got a silent glance from him, you faltered. “Nevermind. Tough crowd.” 

Coming up to the guarded wooden bridge that separated the city from the kingdom, you stopped in the shadows. It was best to avoid any unwanted attention, especially from the knights standing guard at the entrance as people flowed across the bridge. This was the furthest you could go. Best not risk being caught as a human spy for the fae. 

“I thought it was funny.” Silver admitted quietly, stopping beside you in the light as he placed a hand over his horse’s neck. Even though he said he found it humorous, his expression didn’t match his words. 

Noticing this, you gave a half scoff as you pointed out the obvious. “You didn’t even laugh.” 

Silently he watched you climb onto the saddle over the black horse. At your words he nodded slowly in confirmation. Indeed, he had not laughed at your joke. Stepping forward, stopping you from leaving immediately, he placed his hand over yours which gripped the reins. Those aurora eyes gazed up at you, glittering, despite the detached expression on his face. “May I see you again? You were the first to never scoff at my idea that the fae can be reasoned with.” 

The fae could be reasoned with, you knew this much. It may be difficult, but it is possible. Perhaps once Malleus wrought revenge on those who crossed him, he would be willing to be amicable. Now if that would even be possible after the humans see a notorious fae bring death upon their royals like a curse, was a completely different story. “You want to see me again?” 

Silver nodded, confirming even despite seeing the sheer incredibility of your expression. “Also to hear more of your jokes.” 

Pulling the reins out of his grasp, your steed stepped in place but seemed much easier to control now. “Uhh… sure? Why not? I like you anyways, you’re kinda weird.” Before he could open his mouth, you interrupted, calling over your shoulder as your steed began to take off. “Don’t ask questions! We’ll see each other again, don’t worry.” 

You would definitely be seeing him again, for better or for worse. If your memory serves you right, the Malevolent Fairy captures the Prince and has him chained in her palace’s dungeon. There, while her goons are reveling in their victory, she and her avian companion pay a visit to their royal prisoner. It is then that the Malevolent Fairy reveals her plan to keep the Prince locked away for a hundred years, and only then once he’s old and on the verge of death, will he be allowed free to go and wake the Princess after a century of slumber. Maybe you could convince Malleus to spare Silver? Could that work to your advantage or would that work against you? 

As you steer the steed through the forest, back to the moors through a different path, weaving through dense foliage and shrubbery in the search for another hint, the flash of color caught your gaze. It was out of place, bright and glittering against nature’s backdrop. They were like small puffs and explosions of glitter and light, colorful like fireworks, as clear as flares. When you got close enough, you knew you had found it when you spotted a little hidden cottage. From inside past closed doors came bickering and shouting as the chimney spouted magic instead of black soot. 

Steadily a grin grew on your face as you awed at the magic dust spewing from the top. “Huh… that’s awfully convenient. But wait a minute…” 

You stayed behind, hiding your steed in the dense foliage as you crept along in the shadows cast by the trees and the back of the cottage. Eventually, a girl did arrive. A girl with golden hair and rose red lips, the one that had to be the princess. You listened as she arrived, the side of your face pressed up against the cold rugged stone walls. 

The princess was ecstatic upon receiving her birthday gifts, but she spoke of no mysterious man. No true love she met in the woods. Not even when her caretakers, who must’ve been the three good fairies, told her about her true identity as royalty, she didn’t cry because she would not see the man she fell in love with. Since she hadn’t met him, because of you. 

“Fuck…!” You cursed under your breath, dread pooling in the depths of your stomach. 

You had taken up too much of Silver’s time. So much time that he had missed the vital point in the plot where he was supposed to accidentally stumble upon the hidden Princess in the woods, and they were to fall in love. You were telling him stupid jokes while he was supposed to be falling head over heels with her! The storyline had already gone astray by this one mistake, and the terrible realization dawned on you. 

“I’m a homewrecker––” 

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

“Why, our courier is back so soon.” Lilia crooned as he watched you burst through the stairs coming from the stables. Seeing your slightly disheveled appearance, he tilted his head but didn’t move from his spot lounging snuggly at the windowsill overlooking the vast expanse of training grounds. “My, my, don’t tell me the humans gave you trouble! You look like a bat out of hell.” 

Quickly shaking your head, you drew nearer to him as he carefully studied you. It made you nervous, being watched so closely by a General, but you just had to play it cool! “Nooo.” You curse the awkward crack in your voice, clearing your throat. “Of course not! I just have some very urgent news.” 

“Hmm. For a moment there I thought I would have to scare a lesson into some troublesome humans picking on our precious little courier.” Diverting his attention back to the window against his side, he hummed as he spectated some knights sparring against each other with brandished blades. 

You watched as Lilia leaned forward towards the window in interest, his nose practically pressed up against the glass. With a motion of his fingers, he caused some of the training dummies to move by magic. He lifted his fingers, controlling them like puppets so they weakly pestered and frightened any younger knights beside them.

As a few terrified screams and panicked shouts rang out from the courtyard, Lilia grinned and threw his head back in laughter. When he caught your half-amused and sort of confused smile, the mischievous fae beamed. “Come now, these are the jokes, young mortal. I’d expect you to understand. Don’t you have any otherworldly humor you could present to me? Phony says what.”

“What…?” One word. One word he said caused you to freeze, the sentence you were about to say hung off your lips and clogged your throat. Phony…? Any smile on your face was momentarily dashed as you processed what he just said, and you wanted to smack yourself for your stupidity. Audibly you gulped, forcing down anything you would have said before. The confusion must’ve been clear on your face, because it only served to amuse him further. You never were too good at hiding your shock. “You… You know I’m not––?” 

“I know you’re very very far from home. I’ve lived nearly a millennium and traveled the globe, and during my travels I’ve heard the occasional rumor of unexplainable instances concerning particular mortals. A single mortal acting odd, out of place, with more knowledge than they should, especially before monumental events. Although I never assumed it would happen here.” Lilia mused, resting his temple against the glass as his crimson red eyes never left your form. The shiny cleaver at his side looked extra sharp. “Usually, I’m not too fond of strange humans. However, you appear to be relatively harmless.” Flashing a fang-toothed grin that only made you grimace a bit, he continued, “Don’t worry, I quite like you. It sounds like you were successful in your hunt for information, and that’s what matters most.” 

You proceeded carefully, prodding a bit further just to test the limits of the current boundaries. “You’re not… mad?” 

“Oh, heavens no! Why should I be? You seem quite diligent and charming in your own right. So long as you don’t betray Malleus, then we will have no issue between us.” His voice had turned a bit serious, low, as his little grin dimmed. “He has already faced far too much betrayal at the hands of humans. Even for someone on the dense side, anyone can see that becoming a source of hatred for him would be akin to signing away their life. And I’m sure you aren’t that dull, are you?” 

Quickly shaking your head, the frown on your lips pulled down further as you remembered just how terrifying his electrifying show of power had been. And that wasn’t even the full extent of his strength! “Uh, no, I don’t think so. So… you won’t tell anyone about me?” 

“There’s no need for me to do so, so no.” With a slow beckoning of his finger, you felt an unfamiliar visible force against your back. Immediately you were pulled, magically tugged by some unseen force until he was close enough to grab you by the collar. Again, it was a stark reminder as to who you were dealing with, especially upon seeing the calluses on his palms and tiny scars littered across his slim fingers. Nervously you smiled, and he returned the gesture with a confident one. “Let’s have a bit of a partnership, shall we? A trade, if you will. A bit of tit for tat. I’m curious about what you know, and I’m sure you feel something similar towards me. Am I right? Enlighten me, dear courier.” 

“Haha…” A crooked smile made its way on your lips, as you somehow remained composed. Maybe your mind wasn’t immediately comprehending the danger you were currently in. “You first?” 

Lilia eyed you carefully, eventually letting go of your collar as he plucked your metal mask right off your face. “Very well. But only because you asked nicely.” That likely wasn’t the reason. This fae was a General, and it didn’t take a genius to realize he must’ve been a rather ruthless one if his scars were anything to go by. 

You silently thanked whatever higher force was watching over you, as Lilia could have easily decided to take you out right then and there for being a liar and an intruder. 

Sharp black nails traced every dip and groove in the metal, his fingers trailing down the long beak of the mask in his grasp. General Vanrouge made no effort to call for backup or restrain you simply because he didn’t need to. “If I were you, I would first like to know my place in all this.” 

A single nod from you was all the confirmation he needed in order to continue. 

“You are his majesty’s precious courier. A human he found one day when outside of the moors, he watched you be abandoned by your village. Those simple minded folk claimed you were cursed by fae, that there was something wrong with you. So, a fae took you in, because he needed a mortal to be his eyes and ears in the places he couldn’t go.” That explained a lot about why you were the only mortal allowed in the moors and enchanted forest. It explained why his soldier’s would sometimes watch you warily, but never outright harm you. Because you were considered his, a personal servant to their sovereign. “Now, may I have your name?” 

Immediately your mind honed in on those words. May I have your name? Faes weren’t real back home, but here, they were very real and very dangerous. If the stories were true, then they were a tricky type that chose their words carefully, often holding double meanings to what they say. You caught sight of a glimmer of magic readily swirling at his fingertips. The general didn’t just want to hear your name. “No, you may not.” You managed an attempt at a smile as he blinked at you. “You can just call me Courier, just like everyone else here.” 

Steadily a smirk grew on his face as he chuckled, “Smart, mortal. Alright, Courier. If you won’t give me your name, then answer this: why are you here? For power, perhaps glory, or riches unattainable by your current standing?” 

“That all does sound nice but believe it or not, I’m not here willingly.” Was there any harm in telling him? If he wouldn’t speak of your identity, would he mention the reason you were here to anyone else? In myths, faes didn’t appreciate liars. Besides, the near millenia old being seemed like the type to figure this out especially with your habit of letting things slip. Even if you lied now and he later found out the truth, he may not be too pleased to discover that you had the gall to lie twice to him. “It may sound like one big joke to you, but I’ll tell you.” 

Awkwardly you glanced away, unable to meet his gaze anymore. You tried looking everywhere but at him. Your gaze landed on the window, and you saw the familiar green-haired knight picking up the busted remains of ravaged training dummies. After a few seconds, Sebek’s green eyes landed on you by chance, and you immediately averted your gaze again. How did you even begin to explain your origins? 

“See, it’s like this…” You took a deep breath before beginning. “My homeland is strict and punishes criminals by banishing them. I got banished and woke up here. That’s the gist of it. And if you’re wondering what I want, well… all those things you said before do sound nice, I just mainly want to focus on surviving. This whole situation seems… familiar, in a way. Like a story I read before.” 

“Hmmm…” Although Lilia didn’t really react vocally, you could see the shock and intrigue in those big red eyes that widened at your explanation. However, he remained mostly quietly, an amused smile on his face as he was engrossed in your explanation. Only when you finished speaking did he ask inquisitively, “What was your crime? You seem so youthful, naive, and sincere. Positive qualities. Surely whatever your people found you guilty of could not have been any sort of offense worse than I’ve committed. You’re still a bit wet behind the ears after all.” 

Slowly shrugging, you replied somewhat quietly. “I’d rather not answer that.” 

“Fair enough. We all have a few skeletons in our closets that we’d prefer not to reveal. Some may be quite literal!” Wait, what did he just say? “So if you’re not willing to give up your name, or the specifics of your crime, then what are you willing to offer?” 

You watched as he sat up, his feet dangling off the floor as he sat on the window ledge. Carefully you contemplated his words, weighing each of your choices until the first thing came to mind. “I can promise you I’ll make sure Malleus gets a good ending. Because if this plays out like how I think it will, then a dragon ends up stabbed through the heart.” 

Something in Lilia’s eyes flashed as he stood up. It was chilling how the fae’s wide bright eyes went from curious and mirthful to cold and unblinking. “Is that so…?” 

“Yes. But I don’t want that, and I’m sure you don’t want that too, right?” You tried not to falter, but you couldn’t help but take a few steps back when he continued to steadily walk towards you without stopping. “Well… I’d like to prevent that with just one condition. I get to possibly live comfortably afterwards––” An involuntary gasp left your mouth as your back hit the wall, you were cornered. Slowly you sunk down, suddenly very intimidated by the small General as you practically sunk down until he was the one leering down at you. “And maybe you don’t, you know, kill me…?” 

The general’s fist was suddenly beside your head, his thumb grazing the shell of your ear as you could make out the distinct sound of stone crumbling as his fingers gripped the bricks. “So what you’re telling me is that you may be able to predict the future. So if you die, then there’s the heightened chance of our King dying?” 

“I––” You were wrong. You knew Lilia was someone to be feared, but you underestimated how utterly terrifying he was. Yes, he was darling and cute, but he didn’t even need his signature weapon to be effective. “Y-Yes…?”

General Vanrouge appeared to scrutinize you as you realized just how sharp his fangs were. In the blink of an eye, his harsh expression dropped and he smiled at your terror. “Okay! I won’t break His Majesty’s little courier he's been so intrigued by. You’ll be under my protection now. It’s as simple as that. I’m sure you won’t even consider running away from me, isn’t that right?” 

When he tilted his head, his black and red hair was so close that it brushed against your face. His nose practically in front of yours as you immediately shook your head. “I-I would never…!” 

“Good! Then it’s settled.” Lilia beamed as he took a step back, wiping off the crumbled brick dust off his hands as he laughed at your petrified form. “Scurry off now. Go tell the young master the news you’ve brought. Oh, and next time I see you, I expect to hear many jokes and I will be picking at your mind for every single tidbit of knowledge you’re hiding from me.” When you looked at him incredulously, he gave you a little wave with a wiggle of his fingers. His giggling was an unsettling reminder as he seemed to vanish around the corner. “I’ll be watching you!” 

After a few moments, you peeked behind the corner, both awed and slightly aghast to see he was completely gone. There wasn’t a single trace of him left. Rather, in his place was a certain knight. The loud one stood all the way at the other end of the hall, staring at you slack-jawed in furious disbelief. 

“You heard that, didn’t you…?” You sighed. 

“You…!!” Red-faced. He was flustered possibly with confusion and realization, the realization that this entire time he had been speaking with someone that didn’t belong. A human, yes, like he despised but worse, because this human didn’t belong at all. In an instant he was in your face, and you feared more for your eardrums than your life right now. “You, mortal, speak of affairs you know NOTHING about!!!” 

“That is true!” Hopefully no one was within the vicinity to hear him. 

Perhaps he was angry for a multitude of reasons. Lying to him, tricking people, making deals with the General, and overall still remaining ignorant of many things like why exactly did Malleus hate the King. However, it was probably because he knew you were taking advantage of the situation. A situation that was his reality, and very important to him, and he had overheard it all. “You have NO respect––!!” 

“That is also true!” Picking up your mask which Lilia had dropped on the floor, you brushed it off and added quickly before he could assault your eardrums again. “I didn’t ask to be sent here. What more do you want from me?” 

“Spare me your foul excuses, human!” Gnashing his teeth, you only now realize just how much sharper his fangs were than any other fae you had encountered thus far. It reminded you of a crocodile. “You are merely the Master’s pet, the role of the human whether you or someone else will remain constant! For some reason he sees you fit to bask in the glory of his presence, and I cannot even fathom as to why! The Master must find your human presence convenient besides just for basic intel, and for what those other purposes are, our minds can not even begin to comprehend his intentions! Although for what reasons he would want such an unsightly human is far beyond my understanding.” 

Placing your hand over your heart, you reeled back in offense as a hurt expression overtook your facial features. Forget the fact that he basically insinuated you were ugly. “Oww? Why so rude? I am many things but a pet is not one of them!” 

“Are you implying that you, a mere human, are on par with a fae such as I or even the great and mighty Malleus Draconia?” The knight gasped. “Why, the nerve of you, mortal!” 

Incredulously you squinted at him. Did all faes revere their sovereign to this insane degree, or was it just this one? Did he forget that you were his sovereign’s only human courier while he had many knights and soldiers at his disposal? “I’m not implying anything, but I’m just saying, look who has special privileges to go see your precious Master whenever I please. It’s me! Not you!” 

“Human––!!” 

As he clenched his fist, you dramatically gasped and waggled your finger. It was surprisingly fun to mess with him because it was so easy. “No, no, no. Wouldn’t want to hurt your Master’s only human courier when I carry important news, would you? I think he would be very unhappy if you did. You heard me talking with your General, I have a plan.” 

“You? Important news?” Sebek practically sneered. “You don’t mean to tell me you actually went to listen in on the comings and goings of the human kingdom instead of relying solely on your mystic knowledge? Tell me, do you really have a plan or is that one of your despicable lies again?”

“Yes, I did, actually.” There was no telling how successful you would be. Truthfully, you weren’t entirely sure where to go from here now that the plot had changed. The best bet would likely to still curse the Princess, and somehow get the Master of All Evil to consider sparing the Prince, but you would have to convince the Prince to not fight Malleus. Easier said than done. Silver seemed like the noble type, but if you could deceive him somehow so he wouldn’t rescue the Princess… “And I have… part of a plan. How hard can it be? I mean, I practically already charmed their prince! Although that part was fully unintentional.” 

“You…?” The knight didn’t seem too convinced, although there was a flicker of shock at the mention of charming a royal. “You seduced the human prince meant to wed the enemy king’s daughter? That prince? If you lie to me again, I will not forgive you twice!” 

After a brief pause, you shrugged and admitted, “I mean… I told a joke and he said he wanted to see me again––” 

“Debaucher!!” Sebek pointed accusingly, his face flush. Only now as his cheeks heated up did you notice he had the slightest trace of green scales hidden where his hair began. Weird. “I knew humans were vile and loathsome, but you…!” 

Despite his finger in your face, you actually cracked a grin. “You literally cannot call me anything worse than what I’ve called myself. And for the record, I just told him a joke and showed him the way through the human town. Nothing more, nothing less. Don’t get it twisted.” 

The fae appeared to be drawn deep in thought, holding his fingers to his chin, stroking the few scales near his neck as he actually considered your response. Or at least, for a moment he appeared to be doing that. “I don’t understand… Are humans so naturally deceptive or are they so senselessly blind to deceit playing right before their eyes? Perhaps it is both.” Just before you could reprimand him again for saying such things when you were literally less than two feet away from him, he began with a newfound sense of energy, as if reaching a profound realization. “I see! I believe I understand it now! It is because you are so disgustingly devious that the Master has decided to keep you around! Any human can be treacherous and shrewd, but it takes a truly depraved one to betray their own kind! So clearly, our human is superior to all others!” 

You stared at him hard, mostly speechless. What sort of mental gymnastics did he perform to come to that conclusion? Best not to question it, as he seemed like the type to stubbornly refuse defeat. “You know, if Malleus really wanted to––” 

“That’s Master Malleus to you, fiend!” Sebek rebuked sternly, apparently having no regard for the fact that he literally cut you off. 

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you replied sarcastically, “You know if Master Malleus really wanted to end things…” Pausing, you waited to see if he would interrupt you again, but he only grinned in satisfaction so you proceeded. “Why doesn’t he just, you know––” You slid your hand over your throat in a slicing motion. “––the Princess?” 

“The audacity of you, courier! How dare you make such an assumption?” Perhaps the suggestion was going too far. “The Master is a noble spirit, I do not know what sort of idea you have of him, but cease that affront at once! If you are to operate on behalf of our esteemed leader among the ranks of his knights, you must change your perspective of him. The Master is understanding and knowledgeable… I too once had a similar idea and asked him once, his response was that the objective of his curse was to cause the most suffering possible to those who have wronged him.” 

You piped up, “… I mean, I could do it just to put an end to things.” 

“No!! Did you not just hear me?” There was the flash of his fangs again, but he wasn’t out right snarling again. At least that was a good sign. Firmly he explained, “The Master doesn’t need your help in assassination! He is far more capable than just slitting one’s throat! With a flick of his finger, he could disarm an entire army! The Princess would stand no chance!” 

Motioning him to tone it down, you grimaced at his volume. There was no doubt in your mind that it was entirely possible that at least one person had overheard the conversation. It would be a miracle if no one had overheard any of the details at this point. “Let’s not talk about that super loud. You know, I still have to deliver the news.”

Pausing, Sebek opened his mouth, “Ah–– you are correct. That was negligent of me to take up your time when the Master is awaiting your presence.” Placing a hand on your shoulder, he squeezed slightly, and you noticed he had quite the nails and a powerful grip. The knight smiled, actually beamed with such sharp teeth. “Do not fret, courier. Although I find your mortal ways absolutely despicable, you will soon realize what a blessing it is to serve the Master! For now, you are my comrade, and I will help change your selfish desires!” 

Silently staring at him, astounded by his confidence and logic, the sarcastic comment slipped out as you looked straight into his eager sparkling eyes. Apparently he really believed he could really change your mindset. “I’m tearing up…” 

“I know, do not cry!” The sarcasm went completely over his head as he roped you in so you were shoulder-to-shoulder. Enthusiastically he continued, forcing you to walk along with him as he moved forward. “I understand, believe me, serving His Majesty is a wondrous thing! Do not be overwhelmed, even if it is very easy to get swept away by the glory of his mere presence, I am here to guide you! Together, we shall serve Master Malleus for many years to come!” After a few feet, his ironclad grip loosened enough for you to stumble a few paces forward out of his hold. “Go. We will begin tomorrow at dawn, and I will take it upon myself to enlighten you on all fae history and the biography of our esteemed leader! If you are late, I will simply track you down and force you to listen, I hope I have made myself clear enough!” 

Note to self, think of an excuse to get out of that tomorrow. Maybe lying and saying Malleus gave you some top secret important mission would be enough to get Sebek off your back. “Crystal clear. Now, if you’ll excuse me––” 

Before he could even think to begin again, you got out of there quickly. It was by asking servants did you hear that the fae king was in his study and apparently did not wish to be disturbed, probably due to the fact that he was likely bitter from the earlier disappointment about the whole cradle thing. 

“Malleus! Master Malleus!” Your fist pounded on the door. According to the servants, the general rule was to never ever bother the fae when his door was closed and especially when he was in a foul mood, but you were the exception as you brought reports. 

The door to the study where he was remained firmly shut for a few moments, until there was a wave of his hand and a green glow which unlocked the latch. Caving under your weight, the door flew open, nearly making you fall face first against the cold hard ground which caused you to shout in exclamation. 

Somehow you caught yourself, your fingers brushing against the ground but you remained on your feet for the most part. Quickly you recomposed yourself, still slightly flustered under the majestic fae’s menacing gaze. 

Malleus lifted his chin, his green-eyed gaze never leaving yours. It was another shock, a reminder, as you nearly forgot how frightening he was. Turning his attention away from the balcony, he watched you fumble about like a king would look upon their pitiful jester. “Well?” 

“Um… well…” Despite how many times you practiced your lines before arriving, your memory and any confidence went right off the balcony ledge overlooking the fae’s kingdom. When under the scrutiny of a magical being so ethereal yet so terrifying, it made your mind blank. “I, uh, saw stuff. Definitely saw things, and… uh…” Suddenly your mouth went dry, and words made no sense in your mind. If you focused on his midnight black hair, it made it possible to speak when you weren’t focused on his gaze. “So there was a Prince… very nice, mind you. Not so bad. He seems to want to think well of faes. Found him as I was walking around the kingdom, then he told me he was on the way to meet his future father-in-law, you know, the King? And then, well, I was in the woods when the strangest thing happened.” 

It was only by staring at his hair so long did you notice the odd features. The small black scales merging with his hairline, the unnatural smoothness of his hair without a single strand out of place, even his majestic horns appeared to glimmer in the light. It was easy to get distracted. 

“And… um… oh…! What I was saying is that there was a cottage, and its chimney was spewing this colorful magic.” That seemed to catch his attention, as his gaze which had begun to drift away immediately shifted when his eyes were suddenly transfixed on you and what you were saying. “Turns out, three peasant women live there with a girl exactly like the Princess.” 

“Like the Princess, you say?” The fae slowly turned towards the open balcony, where one could see the entirety of his domain which included those enchanted forests and moors. Past the wall of giant thorns protecting his land and people, in the very distance, it was possible to just barely make out the towering palace where the human royalty resided. A ghost of a wicked smile appeared on his lips. “Twenty years. I have made my old friend suffer for two decades, approximately a third of his short mortal lifespan. Last I heard from my previous courier, is that his Queen was on her deathbed from a terrible illness and the King was slowly going mad.” 

Previous courier… You should’ve expected this. Instantly you felt sick to your stomach. Did Lilia tell him? Or Sebek? But why? They promised! Didn’t they claim to detest liars? Your first instinct was to cover your face with your hands, as if being unable to see anything or hear him would make everything go away. But what good would that be? Sucking in the air through your teeth, you glanced upwards at the ceiling, praying for some sort of miracle or divine intervention. “They didn’t tell you, did they…?” 

“No, my General and knights keep their promises.” Placing a cold pale hand on your head, his fingers threaded carefully through your hair. Part of you expected him to just execute you here and now, turn you to stone himself for lying to him. “I’ve known since you awoke here. My General, Lilia, even gave you a hint. Twice. He had no need to tell me when I see through your eyes and hear through your ears. You see, I made that deal with the original. You took their role, and the curse remained in place.” 

You felt numb. This entire time, every single second, he had been there. Knowing. Listening and watching through your own senses. In. Every. Single. Moment. Nothing could be kept secret. What if he was in your very thoughts? No–– he would’ve mentioned that, wouldn’t he? 

“No, I cannot read your thoughts.” The timbre of his tone caused a shiver to travel up your spine as you straightened up, snapping out of your stupor. If he was telling the truth, which he must’ve been, then he was just very very good at reading others. “As powerful as I may be, I am not omniscient.” 

Carefully gazing up at him, you kept your head down and arms at your side, afraid he would just crush your skull between his digits. “That’s… embarrassing. You’re not, I don’t know, going to turn me into stone or something?” 

“I’m presuming that is the fate you fear is waiting for you at the end of this story.” Black nails curled along your strands of hair, his finger tracing down to your ears as you squeezed your eyes shut in awful anticipation. “Well, you need not fret. You have not told me any lies, you carried out your duty well, and found the Princess that my legion of knights couldn’t locate in twenty years. I would be a fool to turn you to stone.” So he could turn people to stone if he wanted to. “Besides, I find you quite amusing. It made me smile, knowing my enemies suffer and hearing your silly squabbling.”

Inwardly you cringed, recalling every little mistake you made since gaining consciousness in this world. Every stumble and fall, every scream or exclamation, the bickering with his precious knight, playing along with his General, joking with the very Prince that was destined to slay him! Even when you openly dealt with Lilia, openly bargaining with his life for some sort of ending that you could live with. Malleus was aware of each and every second. “Even for… you know, making that deal?” 

“No, I’m not cross.” Eventually his hand fell back to his side, as the malevolent fae continued to peer down at you. It felt wrong to even breathe within his vicinity. “It’s perfectly within human nature for mortals to claw their way towards redemption. The decisions you have made are primarily for yourself, saving me in the process is merely an unintended consequence. We both know this. Know that I am not shaken by your choice in the slightest. Trust me when I say that I know full well of the sins that humans are willing to commit for their own benefit. I know very well that humans will prioritize themselves over all others.” You felt small under his gaze, as he didn’t even blink once. The cool and collected tone of his became somewhat hushed as he mused, “You were destined to be here beside me, I believe. Perhaps as punishment…” 

Slowly you awkwardly nodded along, confirming his last words. “Well, yeah… I’m guessing you heard me say that earlier?” 

Neither acknowledging your response nor replying to it immediately, seconds of prolonged silence passed before he spoke. “That was not what I was referring to.” Instead of elaborating on what he truly meant by those words, he seemed to gloss over them as he continued. “Our fates are tied. Allow me to grant you salvation. Should you help me achieve my goal, I will protect you from the end you so fear. Should you try to save me as you have been doing thus far, I shall save you.” 

Instantly, without even thinking, you stuck your hand. This was earning you his protection, wasn’t it? You were practically under the guard of one of the most powerful beings in the world! Making deals with fae was supposedly a bad idea. However, you already made one deal. What’s the harm in one more? “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Slowly the fae blinked at your extended arm. “Well… I didn’t expect you to come to such a rapid decision. You continue to surprise me with your choices and human customs. A handshake, hm?” An amused smirk made its way onto his features, but it wasn’t ominous or threatening like the expression he wore when mentioning the King. When his hand reached yours, you half expected some mystical green light of magic to seal your fate. But it didn’t happen. Instead, the fae held your hand in a firm grip as he proceeded thoughtfully. “I will not ask personal questions, as you seemed quite adamantly against so much as mentioning your true name when my General asked. Although I must ask you to reveal your plan, besides charming the human Prince.” 

Maybe it was due to the fact that he knew your life was now practically intertwined with his, this provided any reassurance that you wouldn’t betray him along with the extra comfort that he heard and saw everything you do. At this point, personal information would be of little use to him. 

If you wanted your own happily ever after, it would require sabotaging the protagonists and changing the entire end of the story. As you considered your next words, you attempted to pull your hand away from his, only for his iron grip to never falter. “Ah, well, originally the Princess returns to the castle since the curse is almost expired. There, you’re supposed to appear in her chambers when she’s alone, and lure her towards a spinning wheel where she pricks her finger and fulfills the curse. Might I say, I would be very tempted too if I was the Princess and you appeared like that in my chambers–– Anyways! Around the same time, you capture the Prince as he went to the now abandoned cottage to meet with the mysterious girl, the Princess, he met in the woods earlier. But, I may have messed up that last part, ha…” 

After listening to your explanation, Malleus finally let go of your hand. Never did he disrupt, but he listened very very carefully, eyes boring into yours the entire time even as you nervously glanced away every few moments. “I see… It seems this human Prince, Silver, as he’s called, is quite naive. This truth can be said for most young mortals. I do find his hope for peace to be endearing, even if it seems like nothing but a fantasy.” 

Malleus knew about Silver. Of course he did. The fae was probably watching like a hawk as you interacted with the future son-in-law of his sworn enemy. It was a bit of a relief to hear that the fae sovereign didn’t see Silver as an immediate threat, for now at least. Now if only you could appeal to his greater nature, the kindness Sebek claimed his Majesty was capable of. “Maybe we can, possibly, now this is just a thought here–– spare him?” 

Malleus was silent for a long moment, and for a second you feared you may have upset him–– that is until the top of his scepter was against your chin. The smooth end with the cold orb glowing that ominous green, propped up your chin so you couldn’t look away. “Anyone that is willing to extend a hand to me or mine will be rewarded, but know this: I will never trust another human again, not fully. You are the one exception to this, my courier. So I expect you to answer the following. Who is the one that is destined to drive a sword through my heart?” 

That tone of voice sent a shiver throughout your entire body. Once again, you felt small, weak, helpless against the fae as he was peering down at you so intensely. It’s clear he wanted an answer, and he wanted it now. “The… uh… Prince–– but with the help of the three good fairies!” As if mentioning the three good fairies would help his case, now that the fae was fully aware that Silver was the one fated to slay him. 

“Now that does contemplate things. So, you implore me to spare the very mortal meant to end my life? That is quite the request.” Malleus mused, his scepter lowering from your neck as you felt you could finally breathe again. For a moment, the fae lowered his gaze in deep contemplation. It felt like hours of tense silence, as you wondered if he would be agitated that you would suggest such a thing. In reality, it was probably a full minute at most when he lifted his hand to his lower face in contemplation. “Those irritating little pixies will likely defy any orders from me in order to protect the Prince. The three alone are far too weak to do anything of significant value on their own… Is the Prince the only one who works against me?” 

“Technically, yes.” In the story, everyone was placed to sleep too by the three fairies, or pixies, or whatever they were in this rendition. The only one left awake was the Prince. “I think the only reason the Prince in the story stood a chance was because he had the help of the pixies. Everyone else is placed to sleep like the Princess.” 

Malleus nodded to himself, appearing to come up with some sort of arrangement to overcome the obstacles. “Then, I trust this task to you, my courier. While I appear in the Princess’ chambers to lead her to her terrible fate, General Lilia will be in charge of confronting the three pixies, and my Knight Sebek will be responsible for safely guarding you as you convince Prince Silver to abandon any notion of defending the Princess or the King.” 

Immediately your eyes widened, as you fumbled over your words, “Y-You want me to convince him to switch sides?” 

“Something along those lines, yes. The Prince will be of little use to them anyways. True love, the requirement to break the curse I placed upon the Princess, doesn’t exist. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, designed to give the King a sense of false hope so he would fall further into despair when his daughter never awoke. At least, she wouldn’t awake within his lifetime.” Malleus nodded in confirmation. Despite the heavy topic of the conversation that consisted of deceit and possible murder, the fae actually gave a smile. A teasing and wicked one as he hummed, “You wished for me to spare Prince Silver, did you not? This should be an easy task for you. As I recall you said earlier, you have already charmed the Prince. Perhaps I should be jealous of Silver, hm?” 

Why did you have to go and open your big mouth? Why did you have to try and be kind by wanting to save someone that was practically a stranger!? This was bad. Silver wouldn’t leave innocents like that. All you could do was lower your head in your hands and grumble, “I’ll… figure something out.” 

“I’m sure you will.” A deep laughter rumbled from his chest, and although you couldn’t see it, you were sure he was still wearing that smug grin. There was some sort of look in his eyes, something not so menacing, more endearing, but equally as chilling. “The last time I trusted a mortal with my life, it resulted in this entire debacle. I’m certain you won’t betray me as well, hm?” 

✧   ✧   ✧   ✧   ✧

The same evening, hours before the sun would set and the curse would be broken, you penned a short and brief letter to Silver. With a wave of his hand, Malleus’ magic whisked it away to be delivered instantly. The message was simple: Meet me at the moor’s borders by the wall of thorns as soon as you can. Signed, the courier. 

You still had no idea how you would go about convincing Silver to essentially abandon the King and Princess. While you were contemplating if it was even possible to save this person from facing Malleus’ wrath, you were not at all comforted when Lilia appeared downright delighted to be the one facing the three pixies. It was a tad bit concerning, especially since he went on about having not seen them properly in over two decades and how they had always been a pesky bunch that favored the humans over their own kin. You were not envious of the three in the slightest, especially when you caught sight of Lilia humming to himself as he polished his green cleaver to a brilliant shine. Those poor pixies would have to deal with the General. 

Sebek was hardly any better. While not outright threatening, he droned on and on about what a privilege it was to personally be assigned a task by His Majesty. Which made it difficult for you to keep calm when he spoke of Malleus every single minute, and made it almost impossible for you to focus on the task at hand. 

“––and so you see, because of that wretched human who betrayed Master Malleus to become the king of the human kingdom, our esteemed leader has been wary of all humans and their activities ever since then.” Sebek explained, gripping the reins as he led the way on horseback, with your steed not lingering too far behind. “So the fact that Malleus is willing to offer an olive branch towards the betrothed of the daughter of his enemy, is nothing short of a gift! A mercy granted to a human who likely isn’t worthy of such a thing.” 

As soon as they reached the thorns, the wall seemed to come alive as its vines and branches slithered like snakes. Creating a temporary path for them to pass through without risk of being impaled by giant thorns. Meaning one thing: Malleus was currently watching. 

“Okay then, since you understand how important that is, that means you know not to act out right? I know the Prince is human and all, and I know how you feel about humans, but let me do the talking.” You pleaded as both horses came to a halt right outside the towering barriers. 

“Tsk, please, I am not so uncouth to– OW!” 

Upon spotting a flash of white and silver through the foliage of the forest, you kicked part of the knight’s leg to shut him up. Before he could open his mouth again, you hopped off your horse and worked your way through the underbrush as you came to a small clearing. There, by the stream, was the Prince standing beside his own noble steed that drank from the clean waters. The backdrop of the forest and setting sun already dipping below the horizon, reminded you of how little time was left. 

The Prince must’ve picked up on the sound of rustling and crunching leaves, because he lifted his head towards the source of the noise. When his enchanting gaze met yours, he smiled such a gentle smile and took a step toward you. “Courier.” However, Silver paused, freezing in place as he looked a bit taken aback at the sight of the knight appearing at your side. A fae, a being he’s never met before. 

“Heyyy, Silver. This is my friend Sebek.” Awkwardly you gestured to the knight, giving the fae a look that basically said please, for the love of his Master Malleus, keep his mouth shut for now. “Sebek, this is Silver, local prince and prettiest human I’ve ever met.” 

Sebek looked anything but pleased. It was then you realized that this may have been his first time actually properly meeting a human, as the fae looked a bit uncomfortable. Instead of saying anything, the knight merely crossed his arms and managed a terse, “Pleasure.” Not even a full, it’s a pleasure to meet you. 

This didn’t deter the Prince, or perhaps it went entirely over his head, as he managed a regal nod. Despite the fact that his expression reverted to his usual apathetic nature, there was an unmistakable sparkle in his eyes. Maybe this would work out well after all. 

“It’s very nice to meet you. Any friend of the Courier’s is a friend of mine.” Silver appeared genuinely intrigued, pleased to meet a fae. Any shock melted away into a friendly demeanor as he approached, “I had to sneak out of the palace just to be here, but I’m very glad I did. Did you really remember my words and bring me here for this? I’m touched, Courier.” 

Part of you grimaced as you exchanged knowing looks with Sebek, who thankfully remained silent for now. The knight merely glanced back at the royal before looking back at you, and he gestured with his head as if saying go on. 

“Something like that.” You spoke, mustering a smile as Silver stopped so he was right in front of you and Sebek. Despite knowing that fae were labeled as enemies, Silver didn’t appear fazed in the slightest. That was bound to change as soon as you opened your mouth. Hey, so my boss is about to complete a curse on your fiancée that’ll put her to sleep for who knows how long and three pixies are bound to put the rest of the kingdom to sleep too while a fae General will prevent them from reaching you at all, but I’m gonna have to ask you to come with us if you want to live. You couldn’t just say that! Fumbling for some sort of response, you began awkwardly, “So… you wanted to meet some fae, right?” 

“Of course.” Silver replied immediately, giving Sebek the slightest smile as he spoke softly and sincerely. “It’s a great honor to have this opportunity. Perhaps by talking more with you, Sebek, and explaining to everyone that I met a fae and all went well, it can change their mind and cause some good to happen.” 

Sebek appeared a bit flustered, unaccustomed to praise from a mortal as the knight looked at you for some sort of support. Probably not even expecting it. Quickly, you interjected, “That is great, because I have the perfect opportunity for you. I never told you, because, well, interacting with fae is generally frowned upon by humans but I happen to know the Malleus! I bet I can even get you an audience with him.” 

“You would do that for me?” The Prince’s eyes widened, his naturally soft voice raised ever so slightly. 

“Excuse us!” Sebek’s eyes widened in alarm as he covered his mouth, hissing in your ear as he pulled you away, “What are you doing, you presumptuous fool…?! This was not part of the strategy outlined by the General! You are supposed to convince the human to join us willingly!” 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you exclaimed quietly, “I am…!” Looking over at Silver, you could see the Prince was puzzled but was respectful and kept his distance. Those eyes of his looking up at the nearby wall of thorns as he waited patiently to be included in the conversation. “Look, he’ll thank me later. He’ll come with us because he wants to speak to Malleus, he thinks he can build diplomatic relations. Let him think that! As long as the pixies can’t get to him, Silver isn’t a real threat to Malleus. Hell, we can even convince Lilia to take him in, I really don’t care, as long as he doesn’t interact with the pixies.” 

“That’ll hardly be an issue. Knowing General Lilia, he’s likely thoroughly dealt with the pixies. They’ve been a thorn in the Master’s side for over a century.” Sebek straightened his posture, folding his arms behind his back as he lifted his chin to appear taller. “Just remember, I am your ally. He is not.” 

“Whatever.” Perhaps this was better. If Lilia had permanently dealt with the pixies, then there was no one else to use magic and bless the Prince with a holy sword and shield. There was no other way to defeat The Master of All Evil. It was practically game over, wasn’t it? Turning back to Silver, just as you opened your mouth to speak, a deep and familiar voice echoed from behind you. 

“My courier, is this the Prince you’ve spoken so highly about?” 

You felt your heart drop as Sebek dropped to his knees in a reverent kneel, and even Silver appeared taken aback by the sudden presence of the being that appeared feet away from you. Looking over your shoulder, there he was, hidden in the shadows cast by the trees. You took a step to the side, careful of Sebek, as you made room for The Master of All Evil. When did he get there? “Yeah–– Yes, it is.” 

Malleus approached, seeming to float as he walked, his robes blending in with the shadows that grew longer and the sky darker as the sun had completely set. Why was he here already? Was it done? Had he actually completed the curse on the Princess in such a short time? A realization came to you, which made you freeze. Surely Silver knew how Malleus cursed his fiancée. 

Stepping closer, the fae appeared to take in the sight of the Prince. Silver leaned back a bit, surprised, but seemingly unafraid. They were complete opposites. Silver appeared to embody light and virtue as he was like a warm spring day, while Malleus embodies the cold darkness like the depths of space that swallowed everything in its path. “My courier tells me you wish to establish peace. Such a lofty goal, I’m afraid, but inspiring. Do you not fear me for what I’ve done? You were there that day, as I recall.” 

“I was hoping to ask you to lift the curse.” Silver glanced at you, before returning his attention back to the fae. Despite the fact that he was in front of a being countless times older than him and far more powerful than anything on Earth, the Prince continued, “It’s true, I also want to establish relations. I believe it can do good for both our peoples. But first, my concern is the curse. Although I haven’t truly met the Princess I’m supposed to wed, I’d like to appeal for the curse to be lifted. She is innocent.” 

“What a noble request. Very well, we’ll talk.” Malleus straightened his stance, standing tall even above the Prince. Exchanging a glance with you, there was a knowing glint in his green eyes as he then commanded, “Sebek, rise. Escort our guest, gently, my knight. Gently.”

Silver appeared quick to believe Malleus, perhaps truly hoping that he would be able to make peace with the fae and get that terrible curse lifted. When the knight stood up to lead the way for the Prince, Silver paused to spare a look over his shoulder as he led his steed along. When his gaze landed on you, you witnessed his entire demeanor soften as he managed a grateful nod. It made you feel a pang of guilt. 

Only once the Prince and Knight had disappeared past the wall of thorns, did Malleus turn to you and admit with a flicker of amusement. “Quite the peculiar human you found, my courier.” 

“Someone’s in a good mood.” You note, taking notice of the twinkle in his glowing eyes and the ominous smile on his face that had yet to falter. That had to mean something. Normally he was unsmiling, so it was jarring to see him like this. “Don’t tell me you already…?” 

“I did.” Malleus confirmed with a brief nod, looking quite pleased with himself. 

The confirmation only made you shudder. You knew it would happen. Still, there was a bit of regret you felt deep within your bones. Although, surely it couldn’t be that bad. It’s not like the Princess was murdered. It was just a deep sleep where she would wake up in the future. “And what do you plan to do with Prince Silver?” 

“I told him we would talk. That is the truth. However, I never said I would lift the curse.” A moment passed, and then he proceeded, watching as the thorns slithered back into place to create that impenetrable barrier protecting his lands. “Since you failed to truly convince him, you merely tricked him into stepping into foreign territory, I’ve conjured a suitable alternative. Allowing him to roam within the moors and enchanted forest has little consequence when General Lilia had took it upon himself to rid the world of those three pixies before they could place the human kingdom to sleep. That way, their King will be awake to anguish and mourn his loss, and yet he will find no one to appease his distress. There are not any other magic users that would be willing to act in favor of the Prince or Princess for the King.” In the cold wind, strands of his pitch black hair fluttered and the emerging moon cast a heavenly sort of glow. “The Prince wanted to meet the fae, so let him. He’ll stay. Should he begin to act out, enchantments could be used to make him forget all things troubling him.” 

“You’d let him stay as a guest…? Really?” That was shocking, considering that in the story, the Prince was kept as a temporary prisoner in a dungeon with heavy chains and stone cold walls trapping him underneath the ground. However, maybe his current fate wasn’t so different from that if enchantments would be used to keep him confined within fae territory. “You know what, nevermind, that makes sense.” 

“Hmm… in addition, I thought the human prince would serve as a good distraction. The General finds human nature to be more accepting of his attempts at humor, the Knight seeks a rival in strength which the Prince is capable of. It seems like a natural fit.” 

With a curl of his finger, some invisible force dragged you closer to him, despite your squirming, it didn’t stop until you were an inch apart and his shadow loomed over yours. Those glowing green eyes that were the bane of many, leered down at you. 

“Which allows you to spend more time with me and solely me. I was betrayed once by a human before, I’m sure you’ve figured this out already. This time, it shall not happen again, I have made sure of it. As naive as you may be, I know you are not so foolish to ever turn on me, especially upon seeing the extent I go to in order to exact revenge upon those who wronged me… So, for your loyalty, I will reward you with lavish riches, wondrous glory, and my undivided attention. Is there anything else your heart desires, my Precious Courier?”

[kwilquib]

Falling for You, Again.

TripleS Kim Yooyeon x Reader

Switching POV

Word Count: 14.4k+

Kim Yooyeon sat upright in the hospital bed, the sterile scent of disinfectant clinging to the air. It no longer unsettled her the way it once did. She had been here long enough to adjust—to wake up every morning knowing she had lost her memories, knowing that her only grasp on the past came from what others told her.

And what they told her was this:

She was married. She was deeply in love. And her husband, who had been abroad for work, had been devastated when he heard about the accident, even more when he couldn't return immediately. Today—the day of her discharge—she would finally go home.

Her parents had been with her since the beginning, threading her past together with their words. Their voices were steady, unwavering—as if the truth could be spoken into existence.

"You and your husband were so perfect together," her mother gushed, her voice thick with emotion. "Always looking at each other like you were the only two people in the world."

Yooyeon held onto the words, testing them, trying to find something familiar in them.

A flicker of memory surfaced. A formal dinner, the gentle clink of wine glasses, a man’s hand resting on the small of her back as they smiled for photographs. She could almost hear the laughter, but it felt distant, muted—like a scene from someone else’s life.

Her father nodded approvingly. "He's a good man. Responsible, capable. And devoted to you, as any husband should be."

Another fragment—her husband adjusting his tie in their shared bathroom mirror, his reflection catching hers. A quiet familiarity between them, practiced and smooth. She remembered feeling something then—a warmth in her chest, steady and certain.

"You don’t remember?" her mother asked hopefully.

Yooyeon hesitated. Did she? The images were there, but they felt too crisp, too clean—like a story well-told, not a memory truly lived.

"I... I think I do. Little pieces."

Her mother brightened immediately. "See? It’s coming back! I always said true love leaves its mark on the soul, even if the mind forgets."

The words settled over her like a soft weight. True love.

With each story they shared, more pieces seemed to surface. Their first dance at a business gala. Weekend brunches with friends where they finished each other’s sentences. Vacation photos where they looked blissfully happy.

Each memory felt genuine—yet the edges of them blurred, like an oil painting smudged by an impatient hand.

She wanted to believe it. She wanted to be the woman they spoke of, the one who had been so deeply in love.

But wasn’t love supposed to feel more certain than this?

The nurse entered with her discharge papers. "Mrs. Kim, you’re all set to leave. Your husband must be relieved—his wife is finally getting discharged."

His wife.

The words settled into the quiet room, lingering in the air longer than they should have.

She had heard it before—"your husband," "your loving marriage," "you were so happy together." Each time, the words had been spoken with certainty, as if they alone could fill the void in her memory.

But this felt different. Final. Binding.

Her fingers curled around the ring on her left hand. The metal was warm, familiar. She traced its shape, searching for something—anything—that felt like certainty.

She waited for the rush of emotion, the deep-seated knowing. It didn’t come.

Her mother squeezed her hand. “Your husband called while you were resting. He’ll be returning from his work trip this week.”

Yooyeon nodded, ignoring the flutter of something in her chest. Excitement? Anxiety? Or something else entirely?

As the elevator descended to the hospital lobby, her parents chatting excitedly beside her, Yooyeon let herself lean into the stories, into the warmth they promised.

If she reached for the love they spoke of, if she believed hard enough—would it become real?

Today, she was going home.

To them.

And maybe, just maybe, to the love she was supposed to remember.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You step into the familiar quiet of your home, and for a moment, it doesn’t feel real.

This place—this moment—was never supposed to happen like this.

You were supposed to come back with a clearer mind, with the weight of your feelings for Yooyeon finally worn down by distance and time. You had convinced yourself that being away, that drowning in work, was the right thing. You had nearly succeeded in quieting the ache of wanting her—of wanting something you were never meant to have.

But then the call came.

The accident. The words you never expected to hear. That she had lost her memories, that she couldn’t remember you.

And suddenly, the distance that was supposed to help you move on became unbearable.

You couldn’t leave. Couldn’t abandon your work, not when this deal had been months in the making. But you couldn’t call her either. You weren’t ready to hear her voice, to confirm with your own ears that she didn’t remember you. Instead, you asked about her indirectly—through doctors, through her parents. Keeping yourself just close enough to know she was okay, but far enough to not face the truth.

Now, you’re home. And for the first time since you left, you can’t avoid her anymore.

She’s in the living room when you step in, arranging flowers—an image so delicate, so carefully composed, that it stops you in your tracks. You never remembered her paying so much attention to things like this before.

“Welcome home,” she says, offering you a small smile. It’s polite, warm even, but there’s something unfamiliar about it. It’s measured, like she’s giving you exactly what she thinks you expect.

It throws you off.

She’s different, and yet—she’s not. She’s not an entirely new person, not a stranger. She’s still Yooyeon, but softened in ways she never was before. Less guarded, less sharp. And it terrifies you how easily she could slip into the version of her you used to dream about—the version that could have loved you back.

You clear your throat, setting down your luggage. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get back sooner.”

Her fingers still briefly over the petals. “It’s fine… they told me your trip was important.” Her voice is light, but there’s something beneath it. A hesitation. A quiet disappointment.

Then, softer, almost to herself, “We could’ve at least talked on the phone.”

Your chest tightens. You don’t know if she’s saying it because she wanted to talk to you or because she thinks it’s something she should say.

“How have you been?” you ask, even though you already know. You know what the doctors have said, what her parents have told you. But you need to hear it from her.

She launches into a recounting of her recovery—how she’s been adjusting, how her parents have practically hovered over her. But as she speaks, something feels off. Her words are careful, almost rehearsed, as if she’s reading from a script someone gave her.

And it hits you—she is following a script.

She’s trying to fit into the life everyone says she had. Trying to be the person they tell her she used to be.

The realization unsettles you.

It should be easy to draw the line. You told yourself, over and over, that this marriage had given you nothing but a lingering ache. That whatever warmth you once felt had long since dulled into something muted, tolerable. Maybe this is the clean break you need—the perfect excuse to finally move on without guilt.

But instead, all the walls you’ve built, the callousness you spent months forging, begin to crack.

You watch her—this version of Yooyeon, untouched by old wounds and past hesitations—and wonder.

Is this a curse? Or is this the only chance you’ll ever have to hold onto something that was never truly yours?

Later, over lunch, the air between you still carries an odd tension—not uncomfortable, just… unfamiliar. You catch yourself hesitating before speaking, unsure which parts of your shared past she still holds onto and which have slipped through the cracks.

"Do you remember the trip to Busan?" you ask, testing again, reaching for a thread of the past.

Yooyeon blinks, her brows knitting together. "Busan…?"

"The conference," you remind her. "Last year. You spent half the time making fun of that presenter’s slides."

She lets out a small laugh but shakes her head. "I don’t remember that at all. But it does sound like something I’d do."

There’s a beat of silence, then a quiet chuckle from both of you—awkward, but not entirely unpleasant.

"Tell me about it?" she asks, tilting her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "I want to know what kind of person I was."

The question throws you off guard, though you’re not sure why. Maybe it’s the vulnerability in her voice, the quiet plea to be filled in on the version of herself that she’s lost.

You hesitate, then exhale softly. "You were—" You stop, correcting yourself. "You are sharp. Witty. You never let anyone get away with nonsense."

She smiles at that, as if it reassures her. "That’s good to hear."

Bit by bit, the stiffness fades.

By evening, it’s different. The space between you, once uncertain, feels smoother, more fluid. It’s not the same as before, but in some ways, it’s easier. Lighter.

Yooyeon touches you more. Small, fleeting gestures—her fingers brushing against yours when she hands you a plate, resting a hand on your wrist when she asks a question, leaning into you slightly when you walk side by side. It’s nothing dramatic, nothing she seems to think twice about. But it’s different.

Before the accident, before the marriage, you thought of Yooyeon as a great friend—someone easy to talk to, someone who made life feel less heavy. When you agreed to the marriage, you thought maybe, just maybe, you were moving toward something more. At first, it seemed like it. The familiarity deepened, your feelings began to take shape, creeping in slowly, almost unnoticed. There were moments—glimpses of what could be—where it felt like the two of you were truly building something together.

But then, it stopped. Or maybe it just never went far enough. She was always there, yet just out of reach. She smiled at you, laughed with you, shared meals with you, but there was always a quiet hesitation in her, an invisible wall she never dared to cross. You wanted more. You wanted to pull her closer, to make her see what you were feeling, but something kept holding you back. Kept holding her back.

Your love for her didn’t fade—it grew. And the more it grew, the more it hurt.

You lived together, spent your days and nights side by side, yet the gap between you remained. A happy marriage, but never quite content. Companions, but never quite lovers.

And now? Now she’s changed. Now, that boundary is gone—not in the way you once wished it would be, but in a way that feels almost unreal. Like something delicate and fleeting, something that shouldn’t be yours to hold.

You don’t comment on it.

You tell yourself it’s just her way of adjusting, of seeking comfort in something familiar.

So you play along.

As the evening drags on, you feel her eyes on you constantly, but there’s no familiar ease to it. No comfort. It’s as if she’s studying you, trying to figure out the person she’s married to, trying to place you into this new reality where you don’t fit. You catch her refilling your water glass before you even ask, adjusting your collar just slightly, even suggesting things she thinks will please you—asking how the trip went, what you did, if you’re tired. Every move she makes feels calculated, like she’s not trying to be the woman you married, but the woman she thinks you expect her to be.

Her actions are all wrapped in politeness and care, but it feels like a performance. You’re a stranger to her now, and she’s just trying to fit the role she believes she has to play.

You can’t help but wonder, does she even know who you are anymore?

After dinner, Yooyeon sets her chopsticks down and looks at you expectantly. “Can we watch some videos?” she asks.

You blink. “Videos?”

“Our wedding, maybe? Or just… us?” She hesitates, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers. “I want to see. I want to remember.”

You don’t answer right away. Something about the request unsettles you, but you don’t know why.

She watches you carefully, waiting. And for some reason, you find yourself nodding.

Minutes later, you’re both sitting on the couch as the TV screen flickers to life. The first video plays—a montage of your wedding day. The ceremony, the smiles, the laughter. The perfect image of a couple in love.

Yooyeon watches intently, her gaze scanning the screen like she’s trying to etch every second into her mind. “I remember this part,” she murmurs when the camera captures her slipping the ring onto your finger. “I was so nervous.”

You glance at her. “Were you?”

She nods, eyes still locked on the screen. “I kept worrying I’d drop the ring. But you… you looked so calm.” She tilts her head, studying the way you held her hand in the video. “Did you feel nervous?”

You almost laugh. “No. It was just a formality, I was rushing for the event to be over.”

The words sit between you, stark and unfiltered.

Yooyeon doesn’t flinch. Instead, she hums thoughtfully. “Still. We looked happy.”

You don’t answer.

The video shifts to another clip—your honeymoon. A trip spent half in public, playing the roles expected of you, and half in quiet companionship behind closed doors.

“You remember this?” you ask, testing her again.

She pauses. “Not all of it,” she admits. “But some parts… they feel familiar.”

She leans into your side, her body warm against yours.

You hadn’t noticed when it happened, but somehow, Yooyeon ended up nestled against you, her head resting lightly against your shoulder, your arm loosely draped around her. The closeness should feel foreign—it never used to be like this—but strangely, it isn’t.

It feels natural. Too natural.

On the screen, the version of you from the past smiles at her, something soft in his expression that even you don’t quite recognize.

Yooyeon shifts slightly in your arms, tilting her head up to look at you.

Your breath catches.

She’s close. Closer than she should be.

The glow of the screen casts soft shadows over her face, highlighting the curve of her lips, the quiet intent in her eyes. The air between you grows heavy, charged with something neither of you acknowledges.

And then she moves.

Her lips press against yours—gentle, seeking. A quiet, hesitant question in the form of a kiss.

Your body reacts before your mind does.

You’d spent months trying to forget, convincing yourself that this love was better buried.

And yet, here you were—undoing everything in a single moment.

You kiss her back.

Before your kisses could get any deeper, she breaks it off.

“I— I should probably take a shower…” her breath heavy. “Before we continue…” she muttered almost a whisper. As she runs towards your room.

The warmth of her lips still lingers on yours as Yooyeon stumbles away, her words barely registering in your mind. Your pulse is erratic, breath unsteady as she disappears into the bathroom. The sound of running water fills the space, but your thoughts are too tangled to process anything else.

You exhale sharply, running a hand through your hair. What just happened?

The weight of her kiss, the way her body fit against yours—it felt inevitable, like something long overdue.

Minutes pass, stretching endlessly until the water finally stops. The door creaks open, and for a brief moment, you catch a glimpse of her silhouette before she vanishes into your room, wrapped in nothing but a towel.

Your heart is still racing as you push yourself off the couch. The air feels thick, charged with an energy you don’t know how to name.

The shower is quick, the cold water doing little to calm the storm inside you. Even as you dry off, the memory of her touch lingers—her warmth, her scent, the way she looked at you before she kissed you.

Steeling yourself, you step into your bedroom.

And then—you freeze.

Yooyeon lies on your bed, the blanket pooling around her bare shoulders, exposing smooth skin bathed in the dim light. Her damp hair spills over the pillows, dark strands curling at the ends.

Your throat goes dry.

She watches you, her expression unreadable, lips parted slightly as if caught between hesitation and expectation.

Then it hits you.

Under that sheet, Yooyeon is completely naked.

And so are you.

The towel slips from your fingers, falling soundlessly to the floor. Her gaze follows the movement, trailing over your body before flickering away when it lands lower—shyness warring with curiosity.

You move closer, sitting at the edge of the bed. Your hand reaches out, fingers brushing against the soft fabric of the blanket. Slowly, deliberately, you peel it back, unveiling inch after inch of her bare skin.

First, her collarbones, delicate and defined.

Then her breasts, supple, rising and falling with her breath.

Your eyes trace the gentle slope of her stomach, the way it tenses slightly under your gaze.

And then, finally, the last of the blanket falls away, revealing the most intimate part of her.

You pause, drinking her in—every curve, every detail, the sheer vulnerability of this moment.

She is beautiful.

You remind yourself not to rush. To take your time.

Slowly, calmly, you lean in, capturing her lips in a kiss—soft at first, testing, savoring. Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she melts into you, her hands trailing up your back, fingertips pressing lightly as if urging you closer.

The kiss deepens.

Your tongues meet, a slow, intoxicating dance. Her taste lingers on your lips, warm and sweet. You tug at her tongue, coaxing it out, teasing, savoring every second before finally breaking apart, breathless.

Both of you pant for air, foreheads pressed together, heat radiating between you. Then, you feel it—Yooyeon’s hand wrapping around your length, her touch light at first, then firmer, stroking you, making you harder than you already are.

You tense, instinctively pulling back for a second, startled by the sudden contact. Her eyes flicker with confusion, but you don’t explain. Instead, you press forward, shifting your focus.

Your lips trail down her body, kissing her skin, feeling the way she trembles beneath you. Her quiet moans spill out as you kiss along her side, then lower, past her navel.

You don’t linger. You know she’s already wet.

Positioning yourself between her legs, you part them, revealing her.

“Yooyeon… can I?” Your voice is low, thick with need.

She nods, her gaze heavy-lidded, filled with anticipation.

You lean in, your tongue sliding against her folds, tasting her, teasing her. She gasps, back arching slightly, her moans growing louder as you work her with slow, deliberate strokes. You take your time, letting each flick, each swirl of your tongue build her pleasure.

You feel her body loosening, her walls softening around your touch. Taking it as your cue, you push your tongue inside, warmth enveloping you as her arousal coats your mouth. She’s overflowing, her body giving in to pleasure.

Her legs clamp around your head, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. Fingers tangle in your hair, grasping tightly as her moans turn desperate, erratic.

You hold her thighs apart, refusing to let her escape. The way she writhes beneath you, the way her voice rises with each stroke of your tongue—it only fuels you. Her pleasure feeds your hunger.

You pick up the pace, teasing and flicking against her sensitive bud. She cries out, hands gripping the sheets, her body arching as the sensation overwhelms her.

Then, without warning, you push your tongue back inside, not giving her a moment’s reprieve. Her moans turn to breathless, broken sounds, her mind too lost in the pleasure to form words.

"Fuh…Ah���Nnn… fuah!!!"

Her body tenses, muscles locking up as the pressure builds. Her legs tremble, stretching outward, her hands pressing against your head, trying to ground herself. Her back arches high, head tilting back as the wave finally crashes over her.

And you don’t stop—drawing out every last pulse of her release, savoring the way her body trembles beneath you.

But your hunger isn't satisfied.

Even though she’s already drenched, already ready, you want more.

Moving back up, you claim her breast, taking a hardened peak into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around it, sucking, teasing, while your hands knead her softness, fingers flicking and pinching in tandem with your lips. You alternate between gentle licks and sharp bites against her sensitive tips, drawing a sharp gasp from her lips.

A loud moan escapes her, her back arching.

Your eyes flick up, catching the way her head tilts, her neck exposed—a silent invitation.

You answer it immediately, trailing kisses along her skin, feeling her pulse quicken beneath your lips. Each press of your mouth sends another shiver through her, her body reacting to every touch.

But you need more.

Your lips find hers again, and before you can even take the lead, she’s already parting her mouth, welcoming you, her tongue eagerly meeting yours.

The kiss deepens, slow and consuming, both of you losing yourselves in the heat of it.

And then—another moan escapes her, breaking the kiss.

Your tip presses against her, teasing her entrance.

You don’t stop. Instead, you return to her lips, deepening the kiss as you rub your length along her slick folds, coating yourself in her arousal.

Her moans sync with each slow, deliberate movement, her body shuddering beneath you. Her hands cradle your face, fingers gliding over your skin, smearing the mess of your mixed saliva as she pulls you in closer.

Your lips part, but your tongues remain locked in their heated dance, unwilling to separate—until she finally pushes you back, breathless.

"Dear… it’s enough… ah!" she whispers between moans.

But is it?

Doubt lingers, and instead of answering, you dip back down, capturing her breast in your mouth, sucking lightly, flicking her sensitive tips with your tongue. She gasps, arching into you, her fingers tightening against your skin.

You trail back up, capturing her lips once more, silencing any protests. She parts her mouth as if to speak, but you don’t let her—your tongue claims hers again, drawing another muffled moan from her.

Finally, she pleads, her voice trembling with need.

"Please… put it in…"

You pull back slightly, your breathing ragged.

Is it really enough?

Your eyes search hers, questioning and hesitating. You want her completely—but only when she’s truly ready.

Then another thought crosses your mind: rubber. Hastily, you reach for the drawer, but before you can, her hand intercepts yours.

“Wait…” she says softly, holding out a condom. Her eyes sparkle with a mix of impatience and assurance. You know you’re supposed to use it, yet in this heated moment, the raw intensity of your desire makes you yearn for an unfiltered connection.

Clutching the condom in your hand, you feel that inner battle between safety and passion. In one impulsive moment, you decide—raw is what you need. With deliberate urgency, you press yourself against her, entering her without delay.

“Ahnnn…” escapes her lips as she welcomes you. Every thrust is met with her rising moans—a rhythmic symphony that spurs you on.

Your hand slides up to her breast, massaging and flicking it, alternating between gentle licks and teasing bites along her sensitive nipple. The sound of her moans draws your attention to the delicate curve of her neck, where your lips trail a fiery path of kisses.

Her insides grow warmer and more intense with each movement, wrapping around you, pulling you deeper into the moment. Sensing that the intensity might soon overwhelm both of you, you briefly pull back—tearing open the condom wrapper with a mix of urgency and hesitation.

You withdraw slightly, and she moans in response. The pause makes you acutely aware of how close you both are to the edge. Desperate not to lose the rhythm, you fumble to put the condom on again.

Sensing your hurry—and perhaps sharing in your urgency—her hand reaches out, deftly fitting the condom for you. Without missing a beat, she guides your length back to her welcoming embrace. Your body re-enters her, and you murmur her name, “Yooyeon.”

“I'm about to cum,” you confess in a low, husky tone, “but… is it okay?”

She meets your gaze with a smile and a nod of encouragement, “Yes… do it whenever you like.”

Emboldened, you resume your pace, each thrust growing more rapid as your kisses overlap with her soft moans. The sight of her—flushed and panting, eyes half-closed in bliss, strands of hair clinging to her flushed skin—drives you closer to your limit. You grip her waist tightly as her arms cradle your head, locking you together in a passionate embrace.

You feel your release building rapidly. Her hips rise to meet your every thrust as she arches her back, her body moving in perfect rhythm with yours. In a final, desperate surge, your finger finds her clit, adding one last burst of stimulation to the electric mix of pleasure.

“No—… Not—There—” she gasps breathlessly as her body twists with the overwhelming sensations.

"I’m—cumming—cumming… Ah!!!" she cries, and in that climactic moment, both of you shatter under the intensity of your shared release.

Her body convulses as waves of heat and pleasure surge through her, each pulse sending shudders down her spine. The sheets beneath you seem to ripple with the force of your climax, every fiber of your being alive with raw ecstasy. You feel her muscles tighten around you, an unspoken invitation to surrender completely to the overwhelming sensation.

Exhausted yet exhilarated, you collapse beside her, your heads turning to face each other. Her expression radiates satisfaction and joy as she softly calls your name. Gently, she plants a kiss on your lips, then on your forehead, and finally on your nose—each tender gesture sealing the memory of your shared passion.

As her eyes close and she nestles into your embrace, you both drift in the afterglow—a raw, unforgettable moment of intimacy that lingers long after the night fades.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yooyeon stirred awake to the warmth of a steady heartbeat beneath her cheek, her fingers curled lightly against his bare chest. His arms were still around her, firm yet relaxed, holding her in a way that made her feel safe. Wanted. Loved.

A quiet smile ghosted her lips as she let herself sink into the moment.

Last night had been…

Her cheeks flushed at the memory—her own boldness, the way she had moved on instinct, the way his touch had set fire to every inch of her skin. She hadn’t thought too deeply about it at the time. She had simply acted on a feeling—a feeling that told her she wanted him, wanted to be close to him in the most intimate way.

And she had been right.

Being with him had felt good, natural. She felt satisfied, happy, content in a way that only reaffirmed everything she had come to believe since waking up in this life—she loved him.

She was sure of it.

The realization sent a quiet thrill through her. She had been nervous, hesitant, unsure if her memories would ever return, but last night had proven that love didn’t need memories to exist. She felt it in the way she craved his presence, in the warmth that filled her chest when he looked at her.

Yooyeon shifted slightly, pressing closer to him, breathing in the faint scent of him—clean, comforting, familiar.

But then his voice cut through the soft haze of her thoughts.

“That was… unexpected,” he murmured, his fingers absentmindedly tracing slow circles on her back.

She blinked, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. “Unexpected?”

He hesitated, just for a second. Then, with a careful smile, he said, “It’s been a while.”

A while.

The words settled in her mind, stirring something she didn’t quite understand. Of course, it had been a while—she had only woken up to this life weeks ago. But his tone, the way his hand tightened slightly around her waist, made her feel like it was more than that. Like this distance between them wasn’t just from her accident, but something older.

She wanted to ask—why had it been so long?

But the words never left her lips. It wasn’t hard to imagine why. Their relationship was complicated. She might not remember everything, but she could sense it—the hesitance in his touch, the way he always seemed to be holding back, like there was something unspoken between them.

Maybe that was just how marriage worked. Maybe love wasn’t always constant, but something that came and went.

Still, as she rested her head against his chest, the thought lingered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At first, it unsettles you.

The way Yooyeon moves around you so effortlessly, the way she reaches for your hand without hesitation, the way she speaks to you with such natural affection—it’s disorienting.

She doesn’t remember.

She doesn’t remember that your marriage was built on something practical, something strategic. She doesn’t remember that love was never part of the equation.

And yet, she looks at you like it is.

Like it always has been.

You catch yourself hesitating around her more often than not. There’s a strange discomfort in knowing something she doesn’t, in feeling the weight of the truth pressing against your ribs every time she smiles at you. You should tell her. You should set things straight.

But you don’t.

Instead, you find yourself falling into the rhythm of her new version of your life together.

You wake up with her in your arms, and you don’t pull away.

You sit together for breakfast, and when she instinctively places a peeled orange slice on your plate, you take it without thinking.

You come home from work to find her waiting, sometimes with dinner already prepared, other times with stories of her day, filling the house with a warmth that never quite existed before.

And slowly, day by day, you stop resisting.

You settle into married life again—but this time, without hesitation.

She reaches for you first. She falls asleep in your arms, waking up smiling at you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The distance that once defined your relationship is gone, replaced by something warm, something dangerously easy to believe in.

You let yourself fall into the illusion.

One evening, as you sit in the living room, Yooyeon is curled up beside you, flipping through an old photo album she found while reorganizing the shelves.

“Oh,” she says, her fingers tracing over a picture. “I remember this one.”

You glance over. It’s from a ski trip, a company retreat you attended together two winters ago. She had nearly sprained her wrist trying to prove she could keep up with the more experienced skiers. You had ended up guiding her down the slope, an arm around her waist, both of you laughing as she barely managed to stay upright.

“You do?” you ask, cautious.

“Sort of,” she hums. “It’s faint. More like… I remember how I felt.”

You watch her quietly. “And how did you feel?”

She turns to you with a small smile. “Happy.”

Your chest tightens.

There are other moments, too—soft, fleeting, but impossible to ignore.

Nights spent in the kitchen, cooking together, bumping into each other as you move around the stove. She steals bites of whatever you’re preparing, grinning at you when you feign irritation.

Late-night talks, lying in bed with the lights off, her voice quiet but filled with warmth as she tells you about all the things she wants to do, all the places she wants to see. And for the first time, you let yourself imagine being there with her.

She steals kisses—teasingly, playfully, like you’ve always been in love. A kiss on the cheek as she passes by, a lingering press of her lips to yours just before bed. At first, it startles you, but then you start to expect it. Crave it.

And before you realize it, you start kissing her back.

You begin to dream of a life where this isn’t just a lie.

Another time, during dinner, she asks a question you aren’t prepared for.

“What was our first date like?”

You pause, chopsticks hovering midair. “Our first date?”

She nods eagerly, resting her chin in her hand. “I was thinking about it earlier. I tried to remember, but I couldn’t, so… tell me.”

You exhale slowly, setting your chopsticks down. A smile tugs at your lips, unbidden. “You don’t remember sneaking out of that charity banquet when we were seventeen and eating instant ramen at a convenience store?”

Her eyes widen in surprise before a small, delighted laugh escapes her. “That was a date?”

“You called it one,” you say, smirking. “Said it was the best meal you ever had.”

She hums, thoughtful, before grinning. “I must’ve been charming back then.”

“You still are,” you murmur without thinking.

Her expression softens. Then she tilts her head playfully. “That’s cute, but I meant a real date. You know—one where we both knew what it was.”

You hesitate, because you know what she’s really asking.

There was never a first date in the way she’s imagining—no sweet, nervous anticipation, no deliberate choice to step into something romantic. Your relationship had always been tangled in something more complicated.

But now, as she looks at you with expectation, her fingers absentmindedly toying with the edge of her napkin, you find yourself saying—

“Then let’s have one.”

She blinks. “What?”

“A first date,” you say simply, watching her reaction. “One you can remember.”

Her face brightens, eyes gleaming with something warm, something real. “Okay,” she says, smiling. “Let’s do it.”

And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—this doesn’t have to be a lie.

You don’t realize when you stop overthinking things.

When she slides her hand into yours while walking through a park, you don’t flinch.

When she leans against you while watching a movie, you don’t stiffen.

When she laughs at something you say, her whole face lighting up, you don’t look away.

And one day, you catch yourself smiling at her when she isn’t looking.

The feeling that stirs inside you is unfamiliar and familiar all at once.

Because the truth is—you’ve always had feelings for her.

You just never let yourself acknowledge them before.

But now, standing in the middle of a life that feels almost real, you wonder if this is a sign.

A sign that maybe, just maybe, you can start again.

And maybe—just maybe—you don’t have to tell her the truth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yooyeon stood in front of the mirror, carefully adjusting the delicate bracelet around her wrist. A soft hum of excitement bubbled in her chest as she checked her reflection one last time. Their first real date—the kind she had always dreamed of. She wanted today to be perfect. Not because it had to be, but because it already felt like it would be.

She had spent the past hour choosing the right outfit, something that felt effortless yet pretty, hoping he would notice. Hoping he would look at her the way she was starting to look at him.

By the time she stepped out of the bedroom, he was already waiting near the door. His gaze flickered over her, lingering just long enough for warmth to spread through her.

“You look nice,” he said simply, his voice softer than usual.

She grinned. “Only nice?”

He exhaled a small chuckle, shaking his head as if she was impossible. Then, more sincerely—“Beautiful.”

Her breath caught. She wanted to tease him, but the way he said it, like he meant it, left her speechless. Before she could find the words, he extended his hand.

A simple gesture. A quiet offering.

She took it without hesitation, her fingers slipping between his, fitting as if they belonged there. He gave her hand a small squeeze, and together, they stepped out into the world beyond their home.

The day unfolded like something out of a dream.

Their first stop was a small bakery-café, the kind nestled between old bookstores and cozy boutiques. It smelled like fresh bread and vanilla, warmth curling in the air like an embrace. Yooyeon picked a selection of pastries for them to share, carefully choosing the ones she thought he would like.

She watched with barely contained excitement as he took a bite of a strawberry tart.

“It’s good,” he admitted, chewing thoughtfully.

“Good?” She gasped, placing a dramatic hand over her chest. “This is art.”

His lips quirked into a smirk. “Alright, it’s art.”

Satisfied, she took her own bite, savoring the sweetness. The café was quiet, filled with the murmur of soft conversations and the gentle notes of a piano melody playing in the background. She found herself stealing glances at him, memorizing the rare ease in his expression, the way the afternoon sunlight kissed his skin.

For the first time in a long time, it felt like they weren’t pretending.

The movie theater was next. She had picked a lighthearted romantic comedy, wanting to keep the mood playful. He hadn’t protested, only giving her an unreadable glance when she insisted it would be fun.

It was.

She found herself laughing at the silliest scenes, and every now and then, when she peeked at him, she caught the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes. He wasn’t laughing outright, but he was watching her more than the movie, and somehow, that made her heart flutter more than anything on the screen.

At one point, when she reached for the popcorn, their hands brushed. Neither of them moved.

Slowly, he intertwined their fingers beneath the dim glow of the screen.

Her heart stuttered. She squeezed his hand lightly.

He squeezed back.

By afternoon, they had made their way to the park, where a small picnic awaited them. She had planned it in advance, packing simple homemade sandwiches and fresh fruit. The air was crisp, the sky stretching endlessly above them, and for a while, they simply enjoyed the peacefulness.

Yooyeon leaned against him, letting her head rest against his shoulder. He didn’t move away. Instead, his hand found its way into her hair, his fingers brushing through it absentmindedly.

Her heart melted.

“I think this is the first time we’ve actually done something like this,” she murmured.

“Like what?”

“Spent a whole day together… just being a normal couple.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then, in a voice so low she almost missed it—

“Yeah.”

She smiled, closing her eyes for a brief second, savoring the warmth of him. The world felt quieter like this. Like it had shrunk to just the two of them, existing in a space untouched by the past.

She wanted to stay in this moment forever.

Night had fallen by the time they reached their final stop—a quiet hill overlooking the cityscape. From afar, the lights twinkled like stars, stretching far beyond what the eye could see. The air was cool, crisp against her skin, but standing beside him, she barely noticed.

“I used to come here alone sometimes,” he admitted, his voice softer, more open. “Just to think.”

Yooyeon turned to him, searching his face. “And now?”

He looked at her then—really looked at her. As if seeing her for the first time. As if realizing something he hadn’t before.

“Now, I think I’d rather share it with you.”

Her breath hitched.

The moment stretched between them, delicate and charged.

Without thinking, she stepped closer, lifting a hand to his cheek, her thumb brushing over his skin. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, leaning into her touch, like it was something he had been waiting for.

Her gaze flickered to his lips.

The tension thickened, the world around them fading until there was nothing left but the space between them.

She moved first, closing the distance, pressing her lips to his in a kiss so soft, so tender, it felt like a secret. He inhaled sharply against her mouth, his hands finding her waist, pulling her closer.

The kiss deepened, slow and consuming, filled with something warm and terrifyingly sweet.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless. He pressed his forehead against hers, eyes closed as if grounding himself.

“Maybe we should go home,” he murmured, voice husky.

Yooyeon nodded, still dazed. “Yeah.”

He took her hand again, this time holding it a little tighter as they made their way back.

And deep down, she knew—tonight wasn’t over just yet.

The drive home is quiet, but not tense. Her fingers remain laced with yours the entire way, her grip firm—like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go. You don’t say anything about it. You just hold on.

By the time you step through the door, the house feels different. Warmer, despite the lingering shadows. It’s strange how just her presence can make it feel like home again.

Neither of you turn on the lights. There’s no need. The dim glow from the night city lights outside is enough to guide you through the familiar space. Without a word, you both make your way to the bedroom, as if some unspoken understanding pulls you forward.

And now—here you are.

Sitting side by side at the edge of the bed, your hands still loosely linked. The weight of the night settles over you, thick with all the words that haven’t been spoken yet.

You steal a glance at her, only to find her already looking at you. There’s something different in her eyes tonight—not just longing, not just resolve, but something deeper. Something that makes your breath catch.

You thought you had lost her. And maybe, in a way, you did. But now she’s here, choosing you—not because of old memories, not because of a past you held onto alone, but because of now.

And that’s when it hits you.

You had loved her before. Loved her in quiet ways, in restrained touches, in the unspoken words that always hovered on the tip of your tongue. But now—now, you’ve fallen again. Harder. Deeper.

She tilts her head slightly, waiting. For you to speak, for you to move, for you to reassure her that this isn’t a mistake.

You exhale, threading your fingers through hers, squeezing once. “Yooyeon…”

Her name feels different when you say it this time—like something new and familiar all at once.

She smiles, small but real, and she pressed her lips against you.

And just like that, you fall all over again.

She pulls away, her lips barely parting from yours as she searches your face. There’s warmth in her gaze, a quiet certainty that makes your chest tighten. Then, she smiles—soft, unwavering.

You cradle her face in your hands, and she leans into your touch, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if memorizing the feel of you.

You kiss her again. This time, there’s no hesitation—just slow, unhurried intimacy, deepening with every passing second.

Her hands rest lightly against your chest, fingers curling slightly against the fabric of your shirt. You can feel her heartbeat, unsteady yet eager, mirroring your own.

Your hand slides up the smooth curve of her thigh, fingers ghosting over her soft skin before slipping under the hem of her skirt. She shudders but doesn’t pull away—if anything, she presses closer, her breath coming faster, anticipation thick in the space between you.

Your lips break apart just as her gaze flickers down—drawn to the movement of your hand between her legs. She knows what’s coming. She wants it.

Without hesitation, your fingers slip beneath her panties, gliding over her soaked heat. A slow, teasing stroke along her slit makes her breath hitch, her thighs twitching in response. You find her clit, circling it with deliberate pressure, and she gasps—soft at first, then louder as your touch grows bolder.

Her head drops onto your shoulder, her body sagging into you, surrendering. You let your free hand tangle in her hair, stroking her, keeping her close as she clings to your other arm. Her grip tightens whenever you rub just right, her body reacting instinctively, desperately.

She’s soaked now, dripping, her slickness coating your fingers as you ease one inside her. She tenses, then relaxes, her walls fluttering around you as you curl your finger, testing, teasing.

“Hnnng…” A breathy moan spills from her lips, her body trembling against yours.

She leans into you, eyes wide and desperate as they lock onto yours—raw, pleading, and hungry for more. You can tell she’s craving every inch of this moment, and you’re more than ready to deliver.

“Can... can I—like, you... lie down?” she asks shyly, her voice low and breathy.

“Sure,” you reply, a mix of confusion and intrigue in your tone as you both head for the bed. Once there, she starts undressing, and you watch, not quite sure what she’s planning.

“Should I... too?” you ask with a playful smirk.

“Ye—yes,” she stammers, her voice thick with anticipation.

Before long, you’re shedding your shirt, pants, and boxers, leaving you completely bare as you wait for Yooyeon to finish. With a final, deliberate move, she slips off her soaked panties, revealing everything. Her eyes linger hungrily on your throbbing package, and after a deep, steadying breath, she crawls over and positions herself on top of you.

Meeting your gaze, she confesses, “It’s because... last time, you teased me way too much,” her cheeks flushing with both embarrassment and desire.

Before you can even reach out for a cuddle, her hand finds your cock, stroking it with a confident, teasing rhythm.

“Yooyeon...” you murmur, barely above a whisper.

Without missing a beat, she shifts so that her dripping, slick pussy meets your throbbing tip. Her natural juices make every touch wet and irresistible.

“Hnnng…” she breathes as she slowly pushes down on you, her warm, inviting opening taking you in inch by inch. Her body settles over yours, fully engulfing you as she adjusts to the sensation.

Then. Her hips start moving—first slow and deliberate, then quickening into a relentless, pulsing rhythm. The heat of her body surrounds you as she rides you hard, every thrust drawing you deeper into a night of raw, unfiltered passion.

“I can feel it twitch…” she breathes, her voice husky as she asks, “Do—does it feel good?”

“Yeah, Yooyeon… it feels amazing,” you reply, your words thick with desire.

Your lips collide, entangling in a deep, fervent kiss as your fingers cradle her cheeks. The kiss intensifies, every touch stoking the fire between you. Rising slightly, she quickens her pace—her desperation unmistakable as she chases her own pleasure.

Before long, exhaustion begins to claim her, and her movements slow; yet even as she gasps for air, her hips remain insistent, grinding slowly despite her fatigue. Sensing an unspoken urge, you murmur, “Yooyeon, there’s something I want to try,” offering an excuse in case she’s too shy to ask outright.

A quick nod is all you need. You reposition her gently to your side, guiding her so that her head rests on your arm. With her back to you, you slide into her again, savoring the fresh angle as both your rhythms realign. Her moans return, matching the new, steady pace that builds once more.

As your hands explore, hers finds yours, fingers interlocking tightly as the intensity escalates. Your other hand wanders over her breasts, teasing her hardened nipples with every deliberate stroke. “I’m—I'm close,” Yooyeon confesses, her voice trembling with anticipation.

Noticing her gaze drifting back to you, you grasp her chin and pull her into another searing kiss, your tongues dancing together. Shifting once again, you climb atop her, pressing her flat against the bed as you prepare to drive her to the edge. “I’m close too,” you murmur between kisses, the admission fusing your sensations into one.

The pace quickens; her moans grow louder, her movements erratic as both your breaths come in ragged bursts. The heat between you becomes almost unbearable, every thrust and every touch amplifying the approaching climax. “Cum with me… please,” she pleads, her voice raw with need.

In that electrifying moment, her body convulses in overwhelming pleasure. You feel your own climax surge through you as you pull away, releasing your heated burst onto her back. The space between you, though charged with the remnants of passion, holds the echo of every gasp, every moan, and every shared moment of unbridled ecstasy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lying in bed, Yooyeon feels the warmth of his arm draped over her waist, the steady rise and fall of his chest against her back. The room is dim, the only light coming from the soft glow of the city outside. She should be at peace, comforted by his presence—yet something gnaws at her, an unease she can’t quite place.

She traces slow circles on the back of his hand with her fingertips, a habit that feels instinctual, familiar, though she can’t remember why. The motion soothes her, but the ache in her chest lingers. Without thinking, she murmurs,

“You always used to hate holding hands.”

His entire body stiffens.

She feels it instantly—the tension in his muscles, the way his breath halts for a split second before resuming, just a little too controlled.

She blinks, turning to look at him. His face is carefully blank, but she knows better now. Knows enough to recognize the way his guard snaps into place.

“…Didn’t you?” she presses, searching his face for an answer.

He exhales slowly, withdrawing his hand. “I don’t remember saying that.”

But she knows he does.

Her memories aren’t whole—just flickers, shadows of something real but unreachable. Yet, in those fragments, there’s a truth she can’t ignore.

She starts noticing it more—the subtle moments when he pulls away. The slight hesitation before he responds to her touch. The darkness in his eyes when she speaks too easily of their love.

And it starts to hurt.

One night, the weight of it all crashes into her. “Why do you act like this?” she asks, voice trembling. “Like you’re afraid of me?”

His expression hardens. “I’m not.”

“You are,” she insists, stepping closer. “I see it in your eyes. Every time I talk about us, about our past, you look at me like—” Her throat tightens. “Like you’re waiting for something to fall apart.”

His jaw clenches. He looks away. “Yooyeon, drop it.”

But she can’t. She won’t.

“Why did we choose the beach?” she asks suddenly, searching his face for the truth she feels slipping through her fingers.

His arm stiffens around her shoulders. “You wanted something grand.”

No. The memory surfaces, unbidden. I wanted it small. Private. Just us.

His gaze is raw, almost pained, as if she’s a ghost he can’t touch. When she reaches for him, he hesitates—a heartbeat too long—before brushing a kiss to her temple.

Something inside her cracks.

The fear she’s been trying to suppress rises to the surface, wrapping around her throat, making it hard to breathe. She needs to hear it. Needs him to say it.

“Did you love me from the start?” she whispers in bed that night, her palm flat against his chest, feeling the erratic rhythm of his heartbeat.

He goes still. Seconds stretch into something unbearable before he answers,

“Yes.”

But it’s the wrong kind of yes—heavy with guilt, not devotion.

She sits up, the sheets pooling around her. “Then why does it feel like you’re lying to me?”

His jaw tightens. Moonlight catches the sheen of sweat at his temple.

“Yooyeon—”

“Tell me the truth.” Her voice cracks. “Please.”

He turns away, his silhouette rigid against the night. “You’re still recovering. We shouldn’t—”

“Stop treating me like I’ll break!” The words burst out sharper than she intends. When she grabs his wrist, he flinches.

He actually flinches.

Her breath catches. “You… you’re scared of me.”

“No.” But his pulse is racing beneath her fingers.

“Then why won’t you look at me?” She cups his face, forcing his gaze to meet hers. What she sees there steals the air from her lungs—anguish, regret, something deeper, darker.

His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“Because when you remember everything… you’ll wish I hadn’t.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You notice it the moment you step inside.

The air feels different—thicker, colder, heavy in a way that has nothing to do with temperature. Some of the lights are off, casting the house in an eerie dimness, as if it were holding its breath.

And Yooyeon—she isn’t there to greet you.

That alone makes you pause. Even on days when she’s distracted, even when she’s lost in thought, she always turns at the sound of the door unlocking. Always lifts her head, always meets your gaze.

But tonight, she doesn’t.

Your chest tightens. You don’t even take off your coat before stepping further inside, following the faint glow of the living room lamp.

Then you see her.

She’s sitting on the couch, unnaturally still. Her hands rest in her lap as if she’s forcing them to stay there. But it’s her eyes that give her away—locked onto something on the table, unblinking.

A single sheet of paper.

Something prickles at the back of your neck.

“…Yooyeon.”

She flinches. It’s subtle, barely noticeable, but you catch it.

Then, like a switch, she turns to you, a smile flickering onto her lips—too practiced, too forced. “You’re home.”

Your gut twists. Something is wrong.

Still, you don’t press. You nod, greeting her quietly. She nods back, but her fingers tighten against the fabric of her dress, her nervousness seeping into you.

You tell yourself to let it go. To wait. If it’s important, she’ll bring it up.

So you step away, heading toward your home office. The silence follows you.

You place your briefcase down, reaching for the drawer to put away your documents—

—and stop.

The drawer is open.

Your heart stutters.

It shouldn’t be. You always keep it locked. You always make sure.

Your breath is shallow as your eyes lower—and then you see it.

The contract.

The one detailing everything. The terms of your marriage.

The proof of how pragmatic your relationship was.

The paper that stands in direct contrast to the warmth you’ve built with her now.

Your pulse pounds.

Yooyeon.

She saw it.

You’re moving before you can think, your footsteps brisk as you retrace your steps, each second stretching unbearably long.

When you step into the living room again, she’s already looking at you.

Panic. That’s what you see first. She opens her mouth, stumbling over her words, voice thin and desperate, like she’s trying to contain a flood. “I—I found it when I was cleaning. I didn’t mean to pry, I just—”

She stops, swallowing hard. Then, softer, like she already knows she won’t like the answer:

“…What does it mean?”

Your throat tightens.

The weight of it crashes between you, an invisible force pressing against your chest, against your ribs.

She knows.

She doesn’t know.

Not completely. Not yet. But she’s one breath away from understanding.

You could lie. You could say it was nothing. That it was just an old, forgotten document. You could keep pretending.

But you don’t.

Because the truth is already here, unraveling between you.

You exhale, stepping forward, your voice quiet, steady.

“Yooyeon… there’s something I need to tell you.”

The silence is suffocating.

Yooyeon doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to. You see it in her eyes. The confusion, the disbelief, the quiet, desperate hope that this isn’t what she thinks it is.

You wish you could spare her. Wish you could rewind to a moment before she found that damned contract, before she looked at you with that kind of fragile, breaking expression.

But you can’t.

So you force yourself to meet her gaze, force yourself to let the truth spill before it’s too late.

“Our marriage wasn’t… real. At least, not the way you think it was.”

Her breath catches.

You don’t look away. “It was arranged. A contract. Your parents and mine, they wanted us to marry. We went along with it.”

Her lips part, but no words come out. You can see the gears turning in her head, the memories she’s tried so hard to piece together now twisting into something cruel, something she never saw coming.

She swallows. “So… so you’re saying…” Her voice shakes. “It was all fake?”

Something twists in your chest.

“No,” you say immediately. Desperately. “No, I—” You drag a hand down your face, frustration clawing at you. “It wasn’t like that. Not for me.”

She flinches.

And that’s when it happens—the moment her heart breaks.

You can see it, feel it, the way her entire body tenses like she’s trying to hold herself together, but the cracks are already there, spreading, widening.

“…Every time you told me you loved me,” she whispers, “was it just part of the act?”

“Yooyeon.” Your voice is strained, pleading. “I didn’t lie about loving you. I just never had the courage to tell you the truth.”

She stares at you.

Then she lets out a quiet, shaky laugh—one that isn’t amused at all.

She takes a step back. Then another.

Your stomach drops.

She’s leaving.

You don’t know where, don’t know if she even has anywhere to go, but she’s walking away from you.

“Yooyeon, wait—”

She shakes her head. “I need to think.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I just… I need to think.”

Everything in you screams to stop her. To explain, to beg, to do anything but let her go.

But you don’t.

Instead, you inhale sharply and take a step back first.

“I’ll give you space,” you say, though it nearly kills you. “But don’t leave. Please.”

She hesitates.

You reach for her hand—just barely, just enough for her to know you would still hold on if she let you.

And finally, finally, she exhales, her shoulders dropping as if she’s too exhausted to fight anymore.

“…Okay,” she whispers.

She stays.

But the distance between you has never felt wider.

You exhale, slow and measured, though everything inside you is fraying at the edges.

“I’ll stay at a hotel,” you say, voice quiet but firm. “For as long as you need.”

Yooyeon doesn’t respond right away. She’s still looking at you like she doesn’t know who you are anymore. Like she’s seeing you for the first time and hating that she ever trusted you.

It’s unbearable.

“I don’t want you to feel trapped here,” you continue, forcing the words out despite the knot in your throat. “I don’t want you to think I’m keeping you in a place built on lies.”

Her breath stutters, but she quickly masks it. She’s still trying to be strong.

You wish she wouldn’t.

You wish she’d yell at you, cry, say something that doesn’t feel like an unbearable silence stretching between you.

“Okay,” she finally whispers.

You nod, forcing yourself to move. To walk away first, even when every instinct in you screams to stay.

But before you reach the door, her voice stops you.

“How long?”

You turn, eyes meeting hers.

“How long were you going to keep this from me?” she asks, arms wrapping around herself. “If I hadn’t found out… would you have ever told me?”

The truth is cruel, but it’s the only thing she deserves now.

“…I don’t know.”

Yooyeon swallows, then looks away.

That’s when you realize—you’ve broken something that might never be fixed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yooyeon wakes up alone.

The bed feels bigger now, colder, the silence stretching around her like an unwelcome embrace. She lies there for a moment, staring at the empty space beside her, before finally sitting up.

Another day.

She moves through the house like a ghost, her footsteps quiet, her routine unchanged—yet everything feels different. The kitchen table where they used to share quiet breakfasts, the couch where he used to sit, sifting through papers while she curled up beside him. It’s all the same, and yet it isn’t.

Because he’s not here.

He never called. Never came back.

She should be relieved. This is what she wanted, wasn’t it? Space. Time.

But instead, all she feels is this aching loneliness.

Her eyes fall to the coffee table, where the contract still sits, edges curled from how often she’s touched it, read it, searched it for something—anything—that could make this hurt less.

Each word, each line, feels heavier now. A binding agreement, an arrangement born from necessity. But as the days pass, as she reads it over and over, something in her shifts.

It was never just that.

Her mind drifts back to that night—his voice, raw with emotion.

"I didn’t lie about loving you. I just never had the courage to tell you the truth."

She remembers the way he looked at her, desperate, conflicted, afraid. She hadn’t been able to see it then, too consumed by the betrayal, by the weight of everything she didn’t know. But now, with time, with distance—

Hadn’t she felt the same way?

She rests a hand over the contract, fingers trembling slightly.

Her memories come in fragments. Unclear at first, like pieces of a puzzle she can’t quite fit together. But slowly—painfully, inevitably—they start to return.

She remembers loving him. Wanting him. Long before marriage was even a question.

They had been friends first, before their parents had forced them together. But she had never felt trapped, had never resented the idea. Because she had wanted it too.

She had been happy, at first. Happy at the opportunity to be something more, to step into a future where she could love him freely.

But then—she hesitated.

Fear had crept in, silencing her before she could say the words, before she could risk what they already had. She had told herself it was better this way. Safer.

And then—

The accident.

The memories she had lost. The love she had forgotten.

Yooyeon lets out a shaky breath, pressing her palm against her forehead.

She had already fallen for him before the marriage.

And now—she's not going to lose him again.

She already lost him once to her memories. She won’t let it happen a second time.

It doesn’t matter how it all started, doesn’t matter what had happened before. She had fallen for him before. More importantly is that she fell for him again.

She loves him. Now.

And that’s enough.

Her hands tighten around the contract for a moment before she exhales, setting it aside. She grabs her coat, her keys. She needs to see him.

She needs to fix this.

Without another thought, she heads for the door, heart pounding as she makes her way to his hotel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren’t expecting her.

Not tonight. Maybe not ever.

Days had passed, stretching into something unbearable, something you forced yourself to endure because it was what she needed. Space. Time. A chance to decide if she even wanted to come back.

You had told yourself you wouldn’t wait forever. That if she wanted to leave, you would let her. That you wouldn’t be selfish—not anymore.

But when the knock comes, sharp and hesitant against the hotel door, your heart betrays you.

You open it, and there she is.

Yooyeon stands in the dim hallway, arms wrapped around herself, eyes flickering with uncertainty. Her hair is slightly damp, as if she’d rushed here without thinking twice. Her lips part, as if searching for something to say—something to explain why she’s here at all.

But then she steps forward.

Her hands reach for you first, fingers curling into your shirt, and before you can ask, before you can even breathe—

She kisses you.

It’s not careful. Not hesitant. Not like before.

It’s deep, unrestrained, filled with something desperate and aching, like she’s trying to grasp something that’s always felt just out of reach.

You’re stunned. For half a second, your body locks up—because how could you have prepared for this? For her? For the way she clings to you, pressing herself close like she’s afraid to let go?

And then you give in.

Your arms wrap around her, pulling her fully into you, returning the kiss with everything you’ve held back for too long.

She came back.

She wants this.

When she finally pulls away, her forehead rests against yours, breaths mingling in the small space between you. “I don’t want to remember a love we pretended to have.” Her voice is quiet, steady despite the way her fingers tremble against your chest. “I want to love you for real.”

The words hit harder than you expect.

You swallow, pressing your lips together, hands tightening at her waist. “Are you sure?”

Her answer is immediate. “Yes.”

And that’s all you need.

You don’t know how you make it to the bed. Only that she doesn’t let go. That every step, every kiss, every touch feels like something slipping back into place—like something that had always been there, waiting to be found.

She’s warm against you, tucked under the sheets, her body curled into yours as if she belongs there.

And maybe she does.

Her head rests against your chest, fingers playing absently with the fabric of your shirt. She’s quiet, but not distant. Not like before.

You hesitate, then run a hand down her back, slow, deliberate. She shivers, but doesn’t pull away.

“I thought I lost you,” you admit, voice low in the quiet.

She shifts, tilting her head up to meet your gaze. In the dim light, her eyes are soft, filled with something painfully tender.

“I won’t leave you,” she murmurs.

You inhale sharply.

She presses her hand against your chest, right where your heartbeat pounds—steady, strong.

“Not again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Their steps were slow, unhurried, yet every kiss, every touch, pulled them further inside, as if gravity itself was drawing them together. Yooyeon wasn’t even sure who was leading. It didn’t matter. Between soft sighs and the heat of his hands on her waist, guiding her closer, she only realized they had reached the bed when the backs of her knees met the edge.

She looked up at him, breathless, her pulse thrumming with anticipation. There was no hesitation this time, no uncertainty. Just them.

She kissed him again, rising onto her toes to meet him, her lips warm and insistent. He responded without pause, deepening the kiss, his hands steady on her waist as he pulled her closer. The sensation of him, solid and warm, sent a shiver racing down her spine.

Then, he pulled away just enough to rise above her, his gaze heavy with intent. Yooyeon’s breath caught, her skin buzzing with anticipation as his fingers found the hem of her sweater. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted it, the fabric sliding over her skin, gathering just above her chest. Cool air met the warmth of her body, sending a shiver through her as her stomach and the lace-covered swell of her breasts were revealed to him.

Her heart pounded as he leaned down, his lips tracing a slow, unhurried path along her jaw, then lower, down the delicate curve of her neck. Every press of his mouth left her skin tingling, warmth pooling deep inside her. His hands followed, tender yet assured, cupping her breasts, his thumbs brushing over the sensitive peaks. A quiet sigh escaped her, her back arching instinctively into his touch, silently urging him on.

His fingers skimmed the slope of her waist, tracing along her ribs before venturing lower. The anticipation made her breath stutter, her senses sharpening as his hand found the waistband of her jeans. She felt his fingers slip past the fabric with ease, the heat of his touch pressing against the thin lace of her panties.

A sharp breath hitched in her throat as he explored, teasing at her center with slow, deliberate strokes. The sensation was electric, sending waves of pleasure curling through her. She clung to his shoulders, her grip tightening as he pushed her further into sensation—patient, unhurried, savoring every reaction she gave him.

Beside her, his warmth enveloped her, grounding her even as his fingers continued their slow, teasing rhythm. Every movement was precise, coaxing, igniting a fire deep within her. She could feel the way her hips responded, rising instinctively to meet his touch, chasing the pleasure he so expertly drew from her.

Her breath came in quiet, uneven gasps, each one only spurring him on. His gaze flickered between her flushed face and the way her body moved under his touch, drinking in every sound, every shiver.

Then, seamlessly, their position shifted. He sat up, pulling her with him, his arms wrapping around her as he cradled her against his chest. Her head rested against the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, her breath shaky, her body trembling in his hold. Yet his hand remained between her thighs, never faltering, never rushing—just holding her there, guiding her deeper into sensation.

She clung to him, her fingers gripping his shirt as if anchoring herself against the pleasure that threatened to consume her entirely.

“Yooyeon…” He whispers her name, his voice deep and coaxing.

His free hand stroked her hair, tender and grounding—a stark contrast to the way his other hand moved with aching precision. She gasped, thighs trembling around his wrist, and he tightened his hold around her, murmuring soft reassurances against her temple.

She could feel his arousal pressing against her through his pants, heat radiating from him. Instinctively, her hand drifted down, palm grazing over the rigid outline. A quiet sigh escaped him at her touch.

“I want to make you feel good,” she whispered, her voice laced with quiet desire.

A silent agreement passed between them as he slowly withdrew his hand from between her thighs, releasing her just long enough to let them shift.

Yooyeon pulled her sweater over her head, the fabric slipping away to reveal bare skin beneath. He helped her, his fingers grazing along her arms as he eased it off. She returned the gesture, undoing the buttons of his shirt, pushing it from his shoulders, baring him to her touch.

Piece by piece, they undressed—her bra, her jeans, the soft slide of lace slipping down her legs until nothing remained between them. She moved closer, hands finding the buckle of his belt, unfastening it with deliberate care. He watched her, breath shallow, as she worked the zipper down, easing his pants over his hips and letting them pool at his feet.

Left only in his boxers, his arousal strained against the fabric, the tension between them thick with anticipation. Settling between his legs, Yooyeon reached for the waistband, fingers curling around it as she tugged it down, inch by inch. The moment the fabric gave way, his erection sprang free, no longer bound by restraint.

She glanced up at him, lips slightly parted, her breath warm against his skin. He looked down at her, eyes dark with something between restraint and longing.

“Yooyeon… you don’t have to,” he murmured, his voice low, hesitant.

She shook her head, her heart aching at how gentle he was with her. “But I want to.”

And she did. It wasn’t just about desire—it was something deeper, something that went beyond the heat simmering between them. She wanted to show him how much he meant to her, how much she trusted him, how much she loved him. Every touch he had given her had been filled with tenderness, with devotion. She wanted to give that back to him now, to see him unravel because of her.

Holding his gaze, she leaned in, letting her lips brush against him first—soft, deliberate, reverent. His breath caught. Encouraged, she let her tongue flick out, tasting him, before slowly taking him into her mouth. He twitched against her tongue, and a quiet groan slipped from his lips. The sound sent warmth curling through her, not just from arousal, but from the knowledge that she could bring him pleasure like this. That he would let her. That he wanted her to.

She moved slowly, savoring the weight of him, the heat, the way his fingers threaded through her hair—not to guide her, not to demand, but simply to touch, to hold. His restraint was palpable, and it only made her more determined to make him feel good.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and the sight of him nearly stole her breath. His jaw was clenched, his brows drawn together, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. But it was his eyes that struck her most—heavy-lidded, filled with something deep, something raw. It wasn’t just lust. It was trust. It was need. It was him letting her in, completely.

She took him deeper, her fingers gripping his thighs as she found a rhythm—slow, unhurried, giving him everything she had. She wanted him to feel it—to feel her. To know that this was more than just pleasure, that it was her love, her devotion, poured into every movement.

“Yooyeon…” His voice was strained, rough with need.

She stilled immediately, understanding him without question. He wasn’t asking her to stop—he just wanted something different. Something more.

He reached for her, his hands open, waiting. Without hesitation, she took them, letting him guide her up, pulling her closer.

She followed his lead, moving effortlessly into his lap, their bodies pressing together as she settled atop him. Face to face now, her knees hugged his sides, her chest brushing against his with every breath. A sharp shiver ran through her as she felt him—hot, hard, pressing against her stomach, the intimacy of their position making her pulse race.

She gazed at him, her fingers trailing over his shoulders, his neck, his jaw, memorizing every inch of him. His eyes, dark and unreadable, searched hers, and for a moment, they simply breathed together, held in the gravity of this moment.

Slowly, tenderly, she leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss—one filled with everything she couldn’t say out loud.

But she wanted to show him. To give him everything.

Her gaze drifted downward as she reached between them, her fingers grazing along his hardness, feeling the heat of him against her palm. A quiet shiver ran through her as she caressed him, taking her time, savoring the way he responded to her touch. With careful precision, she guided him, adjusting her position, her body instinctively preparing to take him in.

And then, without hesitation, she moved.

A quiet gasp left her lips as she slowly enveloped him, her body stretching to accommodate him, every inch sending waves of sensation through her. Her arms wrapped around his neck, seeking both support and connection, her forehead resting briefly against his as she took a steadying breath.

She felt him—deep, warm, filling her completely. But more than anything, what she felt was joy. A slow, radiant smile formed on her lips as she met his gaze, her heart swelling with something beyond just pleasure.

And then, as if that smile was all the invitation he needed, he began to move.

The first thrust sent a sharp, sweet pleasure rippling through her, her breath catching before it spilled out in a quiet moan. The next had her clutching onto him, overwhelmed by the intensity of feeling. The sound of their mingled breaths, the heat between them, the way their bodies moved together—it was all-consuming.

She melted into him, lost in the rhythm, lost in him.

The intensity overwhelmed him, and he fell back, bringing her with him. A gasp left Yooyeon’s lips as she followed, her body molding against his as his thrusts remained unrelenting. His hands moved to her hips, then lower, gripping her firmly as he guided her movements, driving her deeper into pleasure.

She felt the heat, the desperation between them, the way their bodies refused to part even for a second. Every movement sent another wave of sensation crashing through her, pushing her closer to the edge.

But she wanted more than just the pleasure. She wanted him—completely.

Yooyeon cupped his face, her fingers threading into his damp hair as she looked down at him. His jaw was clenched, his brows furrowed, lost in the sheer intensity of their connection. She could see it, feel it—the tension coiling tight within him.

So she kissed him.

Soft at first, then deeper, her lips parting to welcome him, their tongues meeting in a slow, tangled dance. She poured herself into the kiss, coaxing, soothing, grounding him even as the pleasure consumed them both.

And slowly, she felt him relax beneath her, surrendering to her touch, to her.

As his pace became less erratic, she adjusted, matching his rhythm with newfound confidence. She learned his movements, feeling the way their bodies aligned, and slowly, she took control—rolling her hips in time with his, meeting each thrust with her own.

Their breaths synced, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

She felt it in the way he held her, in the way his hands tightened on her waist, guiding her but letting her lead. A quiet thrill coursed through her at the unspoken understanding between them, at the way he let her set the pace, trusting her, surrendering to her.

Their eyes met, locking in an intimate gaze, the world around them fading away. There were no words—there was no need for them. In that moment, everything was clear.

It was just them.

“Yooyeon… I’m close…” His voice was ragged, strained, barely holding on.

She gasped, her fingers tightening against his shoulders as pleasure coiled tighter inside her. “Me too…” she whispered, her breath hitching. Then, she met his gaze, her eyes soft, full of trust. “You can… it’s fine.”

A shudder ran through him at her words, at the quiet certainty in her voice.

And then, together, they unraveled.

His grip on her waist tightened as he thrust deep, his release spilling into her just as she came undone around him. A sharp, breathless cry escaped her lips as pleasure surged through her, overwhelming, consuming. She trembled in his arms, her body clinging to his as the waves of ecstasy pulsed through them both.

For a long moment, neither of them moved—just the sound of their breaths mingling, their bodies still entwined, the warmth of each other keeping them grounded.

Slowly, Yooyeon melted against his chest, her heart still racing, a soft, contented sigh escaping her.

They had never felt closer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up before her.

The first thing you notice is the weight of her arm draped over your chest, her fingers lightly curled against your skin. The second is how deeply she sleeps—peaceful, unguarded, as if she belongs here, as if there was never a time when she didn’t.

Something tight eases in your chest.

You should move, should slip away before she stirs, but you don’t. You just lie there, watching the slow rise and fall of her breathing, the way the early morning light catches the strands of her hair.

She came back.

Not out of obligation. Not because of memories.

But because she chose you.

Your fingers brush over her knuckles, tracing the shape of her hand. She shifts at the touch, her brows scrunching slightly before her eyes flutter open.

For a second, she blinks at you, dazed with sleep. Then, she smiles—small, warm, real. "You're staring."

You huff a quiet laugh. "You're the one who came here in the middle of the night and threw yourself at me."

She flushes, burying her face into your chest. "I did not throw myself at you."

"You did." You smirk, tightening your hold around her. "Not that I’m complaining."

She groans but doesn’t pull away, only presses closer. You feel the sigh she lets out, something soft and content against your skin.

Then, quieter, almost hesitant—“What happens now?”

Your grip on her tightens slightly.

Because the truth is, you don’t know.

There is no contract binding you anymore. No pretense of a marriage built on expectations, no excuse to hide behind the illusion of what you used to be.

There is only this—the love she chose to give you.

And you—the love you’ve always had for her.

You exhale, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “We take it one day at a time.”

She tilts her head up, searching your face. You meet her gaze, your voice quieter when you add, “And this time, we don’t hide.”

Her expression softens. She lifts a hand, cupping your cheek, her thumb brushing just below your eye.

"Okay," she whispers.

And just like that, it’s decided.

This time, it’s real.

No pretending. No distance.

Just you and her.

[merchantziro]

This was Danny's final shot, he honestly didn't have that much ecto left in him to keep enchanting metal. This city didn't have much, it was concerning it generated ectoplasm as is without a Ghost Portal as far as Danny knew but... Not his monkeys, not his circus.

So he built the portal outside the city, hoping it was somewhere secluded where those furries won't bother him this time.

Phantom finally got the portal set up and just needed to find a power source, so he left for what would hopefully be the final time to gather up some sort of power source, however right when he was returning...

B O O M !

Danny heard an explosion in the distance, that sounded like it came from-

The ghost boy ran back into his hideout, but was immediately kicked to the ground by one of the costumed jerks.

"No... No!"

Danny looked over at smoking and burning remains of the portal. They seemed to be asking him something but Danny neither understood what they were saying nor cared enough to say anything.

However what he did do was collapse to his knees, this was the final straw that broke the Halfa's back.

"Why? Why do you keep doing this?"

The costumed heroes paused before one reached out to him...

"Art thee tis fine...?"

...But Danny smacked the hand away with a growl.

"Get out..."

The man flinched back at the venom before the smaller one, a child that might be almost Danny's age, raised a sword.

"Thou art the one with the League, whatev'r grandfath'r is planning wonneth't cometh to fruition!"

The Halfa then looked at him coldly before wailing.

"I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT AND LEAVE ME ALONE!!!"

A green shockwave came from his mouse and knocked them into a wall. They raised their weapons and prepared to battle, but Danny then just turned away to the portal as tears formed in his eyes before collapsing to the ground sobbing.

"I just wanted to go home..."

That made the costumed freaks pause before looking at each other confused, not really knowing what to do. As the ghost boy cried himself until he fell asleep.

--- Hours Later ---

Danny woke up, only to find one of his tormentors, the one in a black and blue suit, was watching over him in a room that looked like a guest bedroom as he was laying on a bed. Though this time he looked concerned.

"Art thee good now?"

The ghost boy just glared before grumbling.

"...Why do YOU care all of the sudden? You sure didn't care before?"

"T appears we might has't misund'rstood thy intentions, and we wanteth to fixeth yond misprision."

"You want to what?"

Danny tilted his head before noticing a woman with a purple outfit enter the room, she had tan skin, green eyes, and poofy red hair that looked long and vibrant.

"This the one thee hath asked me to holp thee with right, Dick?"

She asked the man before he nodded, the woman turned back to him before getting closer as she puckered her lips

"Good now holdeth still, this shall only taketh a moment."

Danny immediately flinched back reflexively but couldn't react or speak fast before feeling the woman kiss him briefly on the lips. He could also see the man turn away, looking grumpy.

However the moment AFTER they broke, he was coughing and gagging.

"Ugh! What the hell was that for, I'm only 15 and not interested in whatever weird kinky shit you-"

"Do you understand me better now?"

Danny paused when he heard her speak English back to him.

"Uh? ...Yeah? How did you"

The woman nodded.

"I apologize for scaring you, Tamaraneans like myself have the ability to learn other alien languages through oral contact."

"Wait Tama-what now? Wait, I kissed an alien!?"

The woman giggled at Danny's stuttering realization, while the man continued to watch the conversation from the sidelines.

"Indeed, I am Princess Koriand'r of Tamaran, but you may call me Starfire."

"Uh... Danny, Danny Fenton of... Well it's complicated."

Danny felt his cheeks burning green because, concerning potential age difference aside, holy shit kissing an alien princess almost makes this all worth it and he's gonna brag to Tucker and Sam about it for a week when he gets home!

...Home...

The memory of the ruined portal immediately caused Danny to slump back into his chair as he turned back to the man.

"So what? After every time those guys destroyed my attempts to make a portal, NOW they decide they want to talk when I lost my final chance!?"

He folded his arms and looked away, the man flinching at his outburst.

"...There might have been a misunderstanding with your intentions and nature. Tell me, do the terms Lazarus Pits or League of Assassins mean anything to you?"

"The Who Pits and League of What!? No, Ancients no!"

Danny raised an eyebrow and looked genuinely baffled by the question.

"Well according to what Nightwing told me, they believed you were using an old form of their dialect and thus believed you were with them. Tell me then where did you learn it?"

"Uh? This is English? I don't know why everyone else speaks like old Shakespearean novels in this world but at least it's English back in my dimension?"

"I see... So then I assume you were just trying to build a portal home?"

She placed a hand onto Danny's shoulder, a sympathetic look on her face.

"Y-Yeah... And... That was my last shot. Because I needed to use Ectoplasm to imbue the parts in order to make the portal into the Infinite Realms so I could find my way back."

This caused the man to take a deep sigh as he's having a slow burn realization of something before resting his head on his arms.

"Oh mine own god we couldst not has't fuck'd this up any m're if 't be true we hath tried..."

Step 1: Get stuck in another dimension. Step 2: build a portal back to the Ghost Zone. Step 3: Leave.

Danny's got it down to a science at this point. It barely takes him a week to get back home. (Except for the time the dimension he landed in was in the stone age, but we don't talk about that.)

Step 1 was easy enough, if involuntary. Now, step 2 is where it's all going wrong.

This dimension's language isn't one he speaks. That's fine, maybe adds a day or two to the search for parts, but the main problem is the people dressed in Halloween costumes, speaking like they're from a Shakespearean play who always find him and wreck his portal.

And it's not like he can just move to a different city, this one's soaked in ectoplasm. He'd have to spend a pretty fair amount of time searching for another place as saturated as this one.

Meanwhile, the Bats are not having a good time. Some League or League-adjacent member speaking a barely intelligible form of the League dialect keeps attempting to build some sort of weapon in Gotham, and refuses all communication in English.

(AKA: Danny is stuck in another dimension where his English is their League dialect. He just wants to go home now, please.)

[pretentious-blonde]

never second best

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: after a run-in with his ex, steve reassures you that you'll never be second best, proving it in a way he knows will stick

warnings: 18+ this is smut, graphic depictions of sex, p in v, oral (f receiving), tears, insecurity

a/n: part 5 but can be read as a standalone. half of this is super long, pure filth, AND my first time writing smut so pls feedback is welcome. thank you @andvys so so much, hopefully, i didn't let you down <3

series masterlist

Steve perched on the edge of his neatly-made bed, hair painstakingly combed into that signature swoop, the red knit jumper hugging his broad shoulders just so. The sleeves are pushed up to reveal his forearms—a look he recently realised drives you a little wild, and one he now makes an effort to wear often. 

He liked to catch you staring. 

He’s wearing his go-to faded jeans, and every time he glances your way, his eyes take on a softer appearance. You’ve already spent some time in his room before, but every time he sees you there, he still can’t believe you’re in his space.

He’s trying—really trying—not to grin too widely. If he breaks into the excited smile he’s been fighting all morning, he worries he might come off too eager. But truth be told, he is too eager. Hosting Dustin’s birthday party is one thing, but now he has the honour of introducing you to everyone. Officially. 

He’s practically bursting at the chance to show you off, the very thought turned his mind all giddy. Knowing that you would be the one with his arm around your waist for everyone to witness. 

The idea distracted him from the real drama occurring not four feet away from him. 

From your spot by the mirror, you can see him watching you, and it sets your stomach off again. You’re not sure why today feels so monumental. You’ve met Dustin in passing, shared a few laughs with Robin over coffee after she basically saved your relationship a few weeks back.

But tonight is the full show. Everyone. All at once. And for some reason, your carefully chosen outfit no longer feels quite right. You tug the hem of your top self-consciously, tilt your head, and scrunch your nose at your reflection.

“I look awful,” you say, voice laced with the sort of frustration that’s all nerves. “This looked so much better in my head.”

His brow furrows, and he pushes off the bed in a single fluid motion. “That’s nonsense,” he replies, crossing the room to you in three quick strides. He rests his hands lightly on your shoulders, gaze flicking to meet yours in the mirror. "You look beautiful, sweetheart. Always do. You know that."

You huff out a breath, trying not to get lost in the warmth of his praise—easier said than done.

“No, I don’t,” you insist, staring critically at your clothes. “I should’ve brought something else.”

“Well…do you have anything else here?” He asks gently.

There were little traces of you scattered around—a few forgotten items here and there, most notably, the new toothbrush sitting beside his. Still, nine times out of ten, you took your clothes home, leaving behind only your pajamas.

“A set of pajamas.” You sigh dramatically, cursing yourself for not packing more than one option. “That’s about it.”

“Hey, that could work,” he teases, eyes crinkling with amusement. “That’s one of my favourite looks on you.” His hands slide down your arms, his grin growing as he watches your reaction.

Under normal circumstances you would lean into his teasing, but this was not the time. You turn to give him a shove, but he catches your wrist before it can make an impact.

“Steve,” you whine, trying to see the humour in this the way he is.

“What? I’m just being honest,” he says, eyes dancing. “Would you rather I lie?” 

Truth is, he does love you in those pajamas—almost as much as he loves you wearing his old shirts. Honestly, you could throw on a trash bag, and he’d still think you’re stunning.

“Please stop,” you groan.

You’re not smiling the way you usually do at his jokes—no little giggle, no playful roll of the eyes. 

The shift clicks for him: you’re actually stressed. 

Concern crosses his features, and the jovial edge in his voice softens. He lowers his tone, warmth flowing through each word, and slides his hands down to cradle your waist.

“Alright,” he murmurs, thumbs drawing gentle circles against your hips. “Talk to me. What’s not working here?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, exhaling as you sink into him. “I just feel… unprepared. I mean, I’m meeting everyone. Should I have brought something? I should’ve baked. Everyone likes baked goods.”

A breathy chuckle escapes him, and he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

Like you’re not already sweet enough.

“Angel, Robin is bringing the cake. And you”—he squeezes your waist a little firmer—“are a guest here. Your only job is to relax and look pretty. Can you do that for me? Please?”

The earnestness in his voice steals the protest right out of your throat. You look up at him, heart thumping in that heady way it does whenever he turns on the charm full-blast. 

Damn those big, stupid brown eyes. 

You turn back to the mirror, pulling at your shirt once again. There’s a crease here, a wrinkle there—things no one else would ever notice, but to you, it’s just off. You can feel his eyes on you, his concern and affection practically radiating from behind. 

He’s been so excited, so patient, and yet you can’t shake the last bit of anxiety churning in your stomach about today.

In the reflection, you watch him hover, trying to be casual even though you can see every thought flit across his expressive face. He wants you to be happy and comfortable. He wants to show you off and make sure you feel like a million bucks doing it.

“Can I wear something of yours?” you ask softly, turning to meet those wide, hopeful eyes. “I want something more comfortable.”

Comfortable.

His heart practically leaps at your request. He’s not sure why that single sentence sends a jolt of excitement through him, but it does—and it’s powerful. He tries to school his expression into something normal, but the eager beam that spreads across his face betrays him.

“Absolutely,” he says far too quickly, glad to be of use. “Knock yourself out. Have at it—any one you want.”

He opens the wardrobe, stepping aside like he’s unveiling some prized collection. You slip past him, still self-conscious, but the warm brush of his hand on your lower back comforts you. 

Leafing through the soft fabrics, you finally find one that matches the rest of your outfit—a cosy, oversized number that’s equally stylish and undeniably Steve’s. You hold it up, glancing back at him for approval.

He grins—big, unabashed. “Fantastic choice,” he declares, in an exaggeratedly formal tone meant to make you laugh.

It works—you giggle. The sound washes over him like a balm, chasing away the worry in his eyes. 

He lives for that sound.

Then, your focus shifts back to the mirror. You pull off your shirt in one smooth motion, baring your bra and the long, graceful stretch of your spine. 

The air feels cooler against your newly exposed skin, and you instantly sense the spark of awareness coming from the boy behind you.

He goes still. A part of him wants to look away, to be respectful, yet he can’t stop his eyes from drifting along the curve of your waist and the softness just above your navel.

He’s had the privilege of touching your bare skin before—tentative, lingering caresses that never ventured too far. He’s wanted more, of course he has. He’s human—he’s got a pulse. 

But you deserve slow. You deserve a careful pace, no pressure. He’d beat himself up about it for weeks if he even thought he made you uncomfortable.

But that didn’t stop his mind from running. 

He wanted to trail his fingertips down every inch of your body, to feel you melt under his touch. Imagining the way you’d arch into his palms, voice breathless as it tickled his ear, egging him on. Images of pressing you up against the mirror, sliding his hands across your hips, your ribs, your chest, discovering every inch he’s been dying to explore. 

He tears his eyes away, cheeks heating at his own explicit thoughts. 

You slide his jumper over your head, letting the fabric fall into place. Instantly, you’re enveloped in the faint smell of him: cologne, fabric softener, a hint of hairspray. 

You turn, a playful, knowing smirk on your face, you catch the flush on his cheeks—his pupils slightly dilated, his posture taut with the effort of keeping his hands to himself.

“More comfortable?” he asks, managing a wobbly smile.

“Yeah,” you smooth the jumper over your sides, nodding. “Much better.”

A smile spreads slowly across his face, relief flooding his features. He steps closer, gently adjusting the jumper on your shoulders, as if making sure you’re perfectly bundled in his warmth. His knuckles skim your collarbone, the gesture sends a pleasant shiver through you.

“Good,” he murmurs. In the silence that follows, you can almost hear the unspoken thoughts swirling behind his eyes. He drops his hands, brushes a quick kiss to your temple, and lets out a breath. “Come on, let’s get downstairs before the others barge in. The peace isn’t gonna last once the party kicks off.”

The house was buzzing with the kind of kinetic energy that made the walls hum. You can feel it reverberating through the soles of your feet the moment you step back into the living room. The cosy space was adorned with colourful streamers and a Happy Birthday! banner—Dustin’s own insistence, of course.

Steve had nearly suffered a heart attack watching you put it up single-handedly earlier, bursting into the room just in time to steady the wobbling chair beneath you.

I mean, Jesus, were you trying to take years off his life?

You had been blissfully unaware of the impending disaster, balancing precariously as if gravity was a suggestion. 

He had been right there. You could have asked for help. But no—apparently, terrifying him was just part of the fun.

None of that mattered now the party was in full swing, chatter overlapping, laughter weaving in and out of a sweetly melancholic track Max had just dropped onto the record player.

He had introduced you with obvious pride, making sure to state—loud and clear—that you were his girlfriend. Watching you greet everyone with a tender smile. His attention lingered on each reaction, quietly noting how they took in the girl he was lucky enough to call his.

It felt like unveiling a winning hand in a game he never expected to play so well—like holding onto something rare and knowing, deep down, that he’d beaten the odds.

You quickly spot your host—your boyfriend—hovering near the stereo console, running a hand through his hair, trying to appear unruffled while Max and Lucas sift through his precious vinyls. And in typical Steve fashion, failing at appearing calm, because he can’t quite hide his grin when he sees you looking. 

From across the room, he gives you a gentle wave, checking that you’re still alright. His eyes stay on you as you maneuver around the coffee table and dodge a crumb-strewn plate that might have once held cake but now looks suspiciously empty.

“Hey,” he greets, sliding an arm around your waist the second you’re within reach. His hand settles warm and comforting at your side, fingertips lightly pressing into the soft fabric of the borrowed sweater. 

“Hey yourself,” you reply, leaning into the contact without a second thought.

He seems to shine in a way you haven’t seen before. Surrounded by the people he calls family, he’s the best version of himself, brimming with confidence and a natural leadership that emerges when he’s trying to make sure everyone else is okay. 

You see it in the way he’s just handed Max the next record she was eyeing (despite complaining it’s not appropriate music for a birthday party), the way he’s offered Dustin a refill on his drink twice in the last ten minutes, and the way his entire face softens whenever he looks at you.

You hear Will’s loud gasp behind you—apparently, Jonathan just teased him about some underground album you had never heard of. The brown-haired boy claps a hand on his brother’s shoulder, spinning him into an ongoing argument about what to play next. 

Meanwhile, Robin’s perched on the arm of the couch, describing some comedic fiasco at work with her trademark flair for dramatics. You catch only snippets—something about a misfiled horror movie in the kids’ section, a frantic parent demanding a refund, and Steve heroically stepping in to salvage the day.

He rolls his eyes at that particular story, mouth curving in a half-smile. “She’s gonna exaggerate it,” he mutters to you, “just watch.”

You grin, nudging him gently. “Hey, maybe it’ll make you look good.”

“What, me saving the day?” He shakes his head. “Sweetheart, I already look great,” he says in a faux-arrogant tone, then immediately flushes when he realises how that might’ve sounded. But you know him well enough to catch the joking glint in his eye, so you laugh.

“C’mon, Steve,” comes a voice from the left—Nancy, stepping forward with a cautious smile. Her hair is pinned back, a few strands framing her face, and she looks surprisingly at ease despite the chaos around her. “Give yourself some credit. You’re basically running a daycare every shift the amount of times the kids are there,” she teases, though her tone is warm, not biting.

“Yeah, well, if it keeps me from being bored outta my mind, guess it’s worth it.” He snorts.

You shift, letting Nancy into the conversation fully. She meets your gaze with an inviting smile, and it strikes you how nice she is. 

Steve had mentioned her coming, and at first, it rubbed you the wrong way. Not in a dramatic, soap-opera kind of way, but in that small discomfort that settled in your stomach before you could talk yourself out of it.

You didn’t want to be that person—the one who couldn’t handle a little shared history, who needed their partner to rewrite the past just to make the present more comfortable. But still, the thought sat with you longer than you liked.

Steve had noticed, of course. He was too perceptive when it came to you, reading the tension in your jaw before you even had the words to explain it. So he reassured you—gently, patiently, with that soft-eyed sincerity he always had when something really mattered.

Without hesitation, he’d offered to uninvite her. But you shook your head because that wasn’t fair. If they were all part of the same friend group, who were you to come in and break it apart? Nancy was part of his history, but that didn’t mean she had to be an issue in his future.

And if he could move forward without looking over his shoulder, then so could you.

She was not the intimidating figure you’d somewhat imagined— the girl he had cared about so deeply in the past. Instead, she’s approachable, her eyes bright with curiosity as she acknowledges you.

“Hi,” she says, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t think we’ve had a real chance to talk yet. I’m Nancy.” She offers her hand, and you take it, noticing the gentle, firm shake.

“It’s really nice to finally meet you properly.” You tell her, giving your name in return. “Steve’s told me a bit about you.”

She arches a brow at him, a playful glint there. “All good things, I hope?”

“Nothing but the best.” He raises both hands, half-defensive. 

She laughs quietly, then turns that inquisitive gaze back to you.

“So, I heard you’re, um… you work in—”

“Journalism,” you supply with a small nod. “It’s not as glamorous as it sounds, but I really like it. Kinda took your place at the Hawkins Post.” You joke. “They treat me a lot better now though. It’s not anything huge, but I get to read new articles, help shape them a bit, get the occasional coffee run… it’s fun and sometimes totally insane.”

Steve leans in, beaming with pride. 

It had gotten easier—less and less often did you show up at his house on the verge of tears after a shift. Turns out, grown men get pretty uncomfortable when you call them out on their bullshit directly. And damn, was he proud when they finally started taking you seriously.

He always knew they would. You’re a smart girl, after all.

“She’s underselling it.” He says, without the slightest bit of shame, gently nudging your shoulder. “She’s great at what she does.” 

“That sounds so much better than when I was there.” She shakes her head, reminiscing about her experiences. “I still do a lot of writing myself. I’m working at a local paper in Massachusetts right now.”

Something about her tone clicks into place for you, like a puzzle piece sliding in. 

“Right, Steve mentioned. You like it?”

“Yeah. It’s… challenging, to say the least.” She nods, crossing her arms loosely. “Still a small paper, still small stories. But I’m building my portfolio, hoping to maybe do bigger pieces eventually.” 

A warm sense of camaraderie blooms in your chest. You completely understand that hustle, that feeling of needing to push through the drudge work to get to the fulfilling stuff. 

“Oh, absolutely,” you say. “I used to think I’d be working on these huge headlines right off the bat, but it was mostly basic editing work. Still,” you add, “I’m kind of a sucker for persevering.”

Her eyes crinkle with a real smile, and for a moment, it’s just you two, connecting over the rollercoaster that is words. 

“I know exactly what you mean. It’s exciting to be at the start of something, you know?”

“Makes the early mornings and late evenings worth it,” you tease, and she laughs. 

This was easier than you thought.

The conversation flows so smoothly that you almost forget the context—that this is Steve’s ex you’re talking to, that the only reason you even worried about her presence was because of that shared history. But here she is: easy to talk to, friendly, and—if you’re honest—reminding you a bit of yourself in how she lights up when discussing her work. You could understand how Steve fell for her in the first place. 

And that’s when it happens: Dustin bounces by with a half-eaten cake slice, eyes going wide as he sees you and Nancy chatting. He glances between you, leans in—crumbs falling from his mouth as he finishes eavesdropping. 

“Whoa, you guys are so alike.”

“Took you long enough to notice.” Erica chuckles, passing behind him.

Steve nearly chokes on air. “Excuse me?”

“I told you—” Dustin smirks at Steve, “both super nice, pushy in a good way, and way too into all that reportage stuff.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Patterns, man. I see them.”

Nancy, amused, shakes her head but doesn’t deny it. Meanwhile, you feel a curious prickle in your stomach. 

Even though you haven’t felt threatened by Nancy at all, it’s… interesting, hearing Dustin phrase it that way, noting how similar the two of you are.

Before you can dwell on it, Steve is in full damage control mode, waving Dustin away. 

“All right, all right, that’s enough outta you, birthday boy.”

Dustin, unbothered, snickers, then scampers off to deposit his napkin onto Jonathan’s pile of party rubbish. You catch Nancy’s eye, and she looks like she wants to say something, but a flush of colour creeps across her cheeks instead. You wonder if she’s embarrassed at the topic or if she’s also noting how the conversation just positioned you and her in the same category.

“Anyway,” Nancy says softly, clearing her throat, “it was really nice talking to you. And I do want to chat more about writing. Would be great if our paths were to cross again.”

“Sure. ” You nod, smiling. “Anytime.”

She dips her head in a polite goodbye, departing to rescue Mike from an argument with Lucas. That leaves you and Steve standing there in the aftermath of Dustin’s remarks.

“Uh… sorry about that,” he mumbles, glancing down at you. “Dustin’s always been, like, embarrassingly direct.”

A wry smile tugs at your lips. “It’s okay. I’m not offended.”

The evening drifts into its final hours with a soft sun lingering in the corners of Steve’s living room windows. Most of the balloons have deflated a little, and the noise has died down into pockets of lingering conversation. 

Dustin’s boisterous laugh echoes one last time as he heads out the door, hauling an armful of presents. Max trails behind him with the rest of the kids, carrying a few he couldn’t manage. She pauses to give you a small nod and a grin—her quiet way of saying, I like you.

You thought at first she was a tad standoffish, but her actions made you feel accepted into the small group. And if they approve of you, that's a sign that maybe you do belong here, in this makeshift family. 

Not that you’re getting ahead of yourself or anything…

Robin departs next, hooking her arm through Erica’s at the last second to drag her into some half-joking conversation about finally getting a break from babysitting Steve. Which she wholeheartedly agreed with, even if she was multiple years his junior. 

Nancy laughs, glancing your way as if to share the humour, and you wave goodbye with a soft smile. Jonathan, her hand in his, offers you a polite nod. They looked so in sync, bodies unconsciously angled toward each other, moving as a unit. There’s no tension, no leftover drama—just two people who found their other half. 

The thought made you more anxious than relieved. 

When the door finally shuts, the hush that falls over the house is unsettling. You can still hear the faint crackle of the record player, the needle resting in a quiet groove before you switched it off. Now, there’s just the quiet clink of dishes in the kitchen and the soft hum of Steve’s voice—he’s singing along to the old radio as he stacks up the glasses. He told you he had it under control, and knowing you didn’t like the feeling of leftover food in the sink, he took this job for the team.

You’re left gathering discarded wrappers and balled-up napkins, your mind spiraling in circles you really don’t want to follow but couldn’t help yourself.

Nancy is lovely. Infuriatingly so. 

In fact, she was so kind, so pleasant, that it almost stings more than if she’d been cold. Because it means you can’t hate her. Not that it was your goal to do so, but you couldn’t just dismiss her as some memory in Steve’s past. 

She was right for him once, and the knowledge of how closely her life aligns with yours—similar ambitions, the same drive for success, the spark of curiosity—makes your throat feel tight.

What if Steve also sees her in you? What if every moment you thought was unique and special was just him trying to relive something he used to have with her?

You can’t stand the idea, but the rational side of your brain doesn’t seem to be cooperating. 

Steve isn’t cruel. You know that. 

He’s never been anything but considerate, thoughtful, patient with you. Hell, the amount of times he was there for you—without hesitation, without needing to be asked. Holding your hand when you were nervous, pressing a kiss to your temple when you overthought, making you laugh when you wanted to cry.

He had never once made you feel like an afterthought. He was all in. And yet, the thought gnawed at you—was he here because he chose you, or because he was still reaching for a shadow of the past? Was he even aware he was chasing her ghost?

Your fingers tighten around a crumpled paper plate, and you swallow against the lump forming in your throat. You wonder if you really are just a Nancy 2.0 as you step into the kitchen, tossing the rubbish in the bin and retreating back to the now clean living room. Not wanting to talk to him just yet. 

The water stops running, the tap squeaking as Steve turns it off. You hear him dry his hands on a dish towel, then he appears in the doorway, face lighting up for a moment—until he sees your expression.

“Finished in the kitchen,” he starts, voice warm and a little proud, then pauses. “...What’s wrong?”

He settles beside you on the couch, the cushions dipping under his weight. Your shoulders tense a little—his proximity normally soothes you, but tonight, your mind won’t quiet down, and every small gesture feels magnified. He notices immediately.

“Nothing,” you say, forcing a small, tight smile. “I really liked your friends. They’re all super sweet. I can see why you get along so well.”

“Oh yeah?” There’s a warmth in his tone, a hopeful rise.

You nod, dropping your eyes to your hands. He slides closer, until his knee brushes against yours. 

“You even got Erica to like you,” he points out, sounding genuinely impressed. “It took me weeks to win her over, and you waltz in and manage it in a few hours? So not fair.”

You can’t help the soft laugh that escapes. “I’m sure she’s just being polite.”

A quick scoff breaks from Steve’s throat. “Erica doesn’t do polite unless she means it.” He places his hand lightly on your arm, and despite the tension coiled in your chest, you feel a rush of affection at the contact. “No, seriously—I loved having you here, angel. Made the whole day so much better.”

“Really?” you ask, voice wavering just enough that he picks up on your uncertainty.

“Well, yeah,” he answers, brow creasing. “I’m just glad they didn’t scare you off.”

Your lips form a weak smile. “Oh, they didn’t.”

But there’s something about your tone—some waver you can’t quite hide—and his eyes sharpen. 

“Okay, spill,” he says, leaning in. “What’s going on?”

“Huh?” You try to keep your expression neutral, but his gaze pins you.

“I know you,” he insists, a furrow carving between his brows. “You’re stressed about something.”

“I’m so not,” you counter, folding your arms tight against your chest.

“Yeah, you are,” he replies, undeterred. “You have tells.”

“Tells?” you echoed.

“Yes, tells.” He shifts forward, voice low. “So tell me—what’s on your mind? Did someone say something? Because I swear to god—”

“Steve,” you cut him off, irritation sparking. “Nobody said anything.”

“Then what is it? Was I too much? I swear I just wanted people to know how much I—”

“Steve,” you say again, louder this time, frustration rolling through you in a hot wave. “I’m fine. Drop it.”

His expression crumples the instant your sharp tone slices through the air. It’s like someone yanked the rug out from under him, and he sits there, quiet and unsure, those warm eyes losing some of their usual shine. It kills you to see him look so hurt, and you can practically feel the guilt creeping up your spine.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs at last, voice soft and almost hesitant. “You… you don’t have to come to the next one. If it wasn’t fun, or if it was too much—”

“That’s not it,” you say, cutting him off. You watch the confusion linger on his face, and it only makes the ache in your chest worse. 

He just wanted to have a good time, to share his world with you. 

And now here you are, turning what seemed like a perfect day into something heavy and complicated.

“Then—what?” His shoulders sag. “I don’t know what else could’ve gone wrong.” His gaze flits over your features, looking for answers you haven’t yet spoken.

You swallow, steeling yourself. 

“It was just… Nancy.”

“Nancy?” Steve’s eyes widen in surprise. “I thought you two got along really well tonight.”

“Yeah,” you admit, speaking around the lump in your throat. “We did.”

He pushes a breath through his nose, like he’s sifting through every possible explanation and coming up empty.

“I thought you’d, I don’t know, bond over books or something. I mean, I know you were anxious before, but you’re both so… nice. She’s already with Jonathan, you’ve got me—”

“Steve.” You cut him off again, trying not to let your voice waver. “We’re similar. That’s the problem.”

He blinks. “What d’you mean?” His tone is gentle, even though you see the concern in his eyes.

You rake a hand through your hair, fighting for the right words. He shifts forward, bracing himself.

“Steve, we’re really similar,” you say at last, voice low. 

“Okay?” He nods, urging you to continue. “So you have some shared interests. Where are we going with this, sweetheart?”

A shaky breath escapes you, and you force yourself to look him in the eye. 

“Are you sure you’re not still… looking for her?”

He frowns, confused. “Looking for her? I don’t—”

“Yes, Steve. Searching for someone like Nancy because you couldn’t have her. Like I’m just the next best thing. Even the kids picked up on how alike we are.” Your voice cracks, and you hate how vulnerable you sound. “I don’t want to be some bullshit replacement, filling up the space she left behind.”

All it takes is that one word—bullshit—and the floor drops out beneath him. 

You’re looking at him, voice trembling with hurt, and the realisation that you think you’re not enough guts him. Because he knows that feeling too well. He’s been there, on the other end, wondering if he was any good for anyone. But this? This is a thousand times worse. Because it’s you—and if there’s one thing in this world he’s certain of, it’s you.

He can’t stand the heartbreak in your eyes. Can’t stand the idea that he might be the one making you feel that way. His mind scrambles for something, anything, that might put your mind at ease—words to counteract that awful notion of being not enough. 

Then, suddenly, clarity strikes. He can’t think of anything else but to go full-force, stern, direct, because you’re far too precious for soft reassurances that could be mistaken or ignored.

“Hey,” he says, voice firm enough to startle even himself, “listen to me and listen to me good, all right?”

He can see how shocked you are at the tone he’s using; you go still, your gaze locking on him in a way that assures him every word will sink in. It has to.

“Never—and I mean never—are you some kind of half-ass replacement. You hear me? So get that thought out of your head right now.”

He’s never spoken to you quite like this before, but desperation thrums under every syllable. 

I can’t lose you. Please believe me.

“I don’t care how long it takes or how many times I have to say it—you are not second place. You are not a replacement. I didn’t settle for you, I chose you. You think I’d waste my time with someone I didn’t want wholeheartedly?”

He asks the question as though there’s no logical answer except the truth: Of course he wouldn’t. And he can’t stop now; your silence pushes him to continue. He needs you to know.

“God, if you could see yourself the way I do, you’d never think this again. You would never doubt how much I love you. How stupidly lucky I feel every day just to have you. You are not some ghost of my past. You are my future. And nothing—no one—could ever change that.”

There’s a ringing in his ears from the intensity of his own words, and he breathes hard, every muscle coiled with tension. Your eyes are wide, shining with an emotion he can’t decipher—shock, relief, maybe both. He hopes to God his message got through.

And then—amid the silence—your voice comes out soft, almost a whisper. 

“You love me?”

The question slices through him like lightning. He falters, suddenly off-balance. 

Fuck.

Because he’s just laid bare his entire heart, more than he’s ever dared to before. But there’s no taking it back. No gentle way to hedge now.

“Yes.” He swallows. His voice is steadier than he feels inside. “I do... Simple as that.”

That was all it took.

The words barely leave his mouth before you surge forward, meeting him in a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue, messy and urgent, the taste of each other a heady mix of relief and need. 

He gasps when you grip the collar of his sweater, tugging him closer, refusing to let a single breath of space linger between you. In response, his hands slide down your waist, pulling you tight against him until he can feel every curve, every line of your body against his.

“God,” he rasps against your mouth, already sounding relieved. “You—fuck.”

You hum a soft, breathy laugh escapes as he hauls you closer, helping you out as you sit and straddle his lap. His mouth is trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your throat as you sink your fingers into his hair, tugging, making him hiss against your lips.

He’s so desperate he doesn’t know where to touch first—fingers skimming over the curve of your hip, the dip of your waist, sliding boldly beneath the hem of your—his—jumper to feel the heat of your skin. 

Everything about you feels like an invitation, a promise he’s craved for far too long. And each gasp, each little whimper you give him, only fuels that growing ache inside of him.

“Steve,” you whisper, voice cracking with urgency. He glances up, eyes dark, pupils blown. There’s something unbridled there—devotion, longing, raw determination to make sure you never doubt him again.

He pulls you closer, one hand curling around your waist, the other sliding around to grip your ass, pulling you flush against the growing hardness in his jeans. 

Then, as though a last spark of caution flickers through his brain, he stills, pulling back just enough to look at you—really look, eyes darting between yours. There’s a flush high on his cheeks, lips reddened from your kisses. But behind that is a tenderness, a protective streak that roars beneath his surface need.

“Tell me you want this,” he says, voice so low it practically reverberates through your chest. He needs to hear you say it. Needs to hear you tell him it’s alright. “I want to make sure you’re positive, because I—I want this more than anything—to show you, to make you feel so fucking good, but…”

You let out a noise that’s both a laugh and a moan. 

“Steve,” you repeat, more breathless this time. “I want this. I want you. Please.”

He groans, eyes squeezing shut. Thank God. 

“Shit, you have no idea how long I’ve—” He takes a breath as he shudders against you, every nerve ending on fire. “Angel—fuck—wait, just a sec.”

You blink, momentarily dazed. “What—did I do something?”

He just about melts at the concerned look you’re giving him, hands immediately cupping your face as he presses his mouth against yours as he mutters reassurances. 

“No, sweetheart. You didn’t—you’re perfect.” He wills his brain to formulate a coherent sentence. Easier said than done when he has you sitting on his lap. “But, if I’m going to make love to you, I’m not going to do it on the living room couch.”

A glint sparks in his eyes, but there’s nothing playful about the way he suddenly gathers you up into his arms, hands cupping beneath your thighs, hoisting you effortlessly against his chest as he stands. Your squeal of surprise echoes in the now-quiet house as you cling to his shoulders, heart pounding.

You laugh out his name and his only response is to tighten his hold on you, a grin tugging at his kiss-swollen lips, before he turns and starts up the stairs, carrying you like you weigh nothing. 

Your arms wrap around his neck, your lips brushing the line of his jaw, and his low groan vibrates in your ear, spurring him to climb faster.

He kicks the bedroom door open with his foot, all too eager to finally have you in his arms, in his bed. He sets you down on the edge of the mattress, his hands lingering at your hips as though he can’t bear to lose contact. 

You’re about to tease him for being so careful, but the sight of him—flushed cheeks, hair a disheveled mess from your fingers, lips reddened—steals the quip from your tongue.

“You okay?” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. As urgent as he feels, there’s that undercurrent of protectiveness, that need to check you’re here with him for all the right reasons.

Your smile is a little breathless. “I’m more than okay.”

He exhales slowly, like your reassurance is the only permission he needed to keep going. Then he nudges your knees apart so he can step in closer, pressing your bodies flush. The warmth of him is addictive—solid arms, broad chest, that steady heartbeat thrumming beneath your palms.

A shiver runs down your spine when he bends to brush a slow kiss along the side of your throat, teeth just barely grazing your skin. Your head falls back, and he uses the moment to trail more kisses along your jaw, your collarbone, mapping the curve of your shoulder as if memorising every inch.

“Lie down for me,” he whispers, voice trembling with the effort it takes to keep it gentle.

You slide back onto the bed, propping yourself on your elbows, and he kneels near the edge, guiding your legs up so you’re fully on the bed. His hand glides beneath your clothes, pushing it slowly upward, knuckles skimming the bare skin of your waist. His gaze locks with yours as he slips it off over your head, making sure you’re still okay with each inch of exposed skin. You can’t help the small, playful grin that tugs at your lips. 

“Careful, Harrington,” you tease, breath hitching when he plants a soft kiss at the center of your sternum. “At this rate, it’ll be sunrise before you get these clothes off.”

He huffs a little laugh against your skin, the warm puff of air sending a tingle racing across your flesh. 

“You deserve careful,” he says, words muffled by the increasingly desperate kisses he’s leaving along the tops of your breasts, your clavicle. “But don’t think for a second I’m not dying to tear everything off you, angel.”

His fingers drift to the waistband of your jeans, undoing the button and zipper with a focus that makes your stomach flip. He eases them down your hips, helping you lift so he can slide them all the way off. Then, with a featherlight touch, he glides his hands up your thighs, sending sparks of electricity racing through you.

“Steve,” you breathe, voice catching when he leans down to kiss your newly bared skin. He starts at your calf, working his way leisurely up, each press of his lips driving you a little bit more insane. By the time he reaches your inner thigh, you’re trembling—desperate for him.

“Look at you,” he coos, voice shaking with something close to awe. His fingers slide along the band of your underwear, and he gently pulls them down, letting them join your jeans on the floor. With each inch, he leaves more of you uncovered, and the intensity in his gaze leaves you feeling bare in more ways than one.

You try to close your legs, feeling slightly exposed with the way he is gazing at you, but his hand is firm as it grips your thigh, holding you open. You hold your breath as his fingers skim over your folds, head falling back as his thumb circles your clit slowly. 

“Shit,” he breathes out, second hand joining to gather some of your wetness on his fingers. “You’re fuckin’ soaked, angel.”

“Steve,” you murmur, voice quivering with need. Your fingers thread into his hair, urging him closer, your body already winding tight from the warmth of his breath against you.

“God,” he mutters, words muffled by another kiss to your thigh. “I’ve wanted this—wanted to do this—for so damn long.”

He shifts, situating himself more comfortably. Then, with a half-lidded glance in your direction, he leans in and presses his mouth against your clit in a way that shatters every remaining thought in your head. 

A soft cry tumbles from your lips, and he groans at the sound, pulling you in deeper, his grip on your thighs tightening.

He moves carefully, learning your reactions, letting your gasps and moans guide him. Each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck, is a question: Is this good? More? Show me. And every time you arch your back or let out a ragged whisper of his name, he answers with another fervent, deliciously slow pass of his mouth.

"Fuck, angel, I could do this all night.” He dives back in. “Keep you here, keep you shaking over and over on my tongue."

He’s so tender in his insistence, balancing the sharp edge of hunger with a profound concern for your pleasure. One of his hands slides up to lace your fingers together, and he squeezes—almost like he’s grounding himself in the moment, sharing each pulse of sensation so you know he’s right there with you. The other hand strokes up your thigh and curls around your hip, keeping you anchored against him.

“Oh, God,” you gasp, voice pitching higher when he drags his tongue across your pussy with a pointed languidness. Your thighs tighten around his shoulders, and he shudders, his fingers reflexively pressing into your skin.

He pauses just long enough to rest his forehead against your thigh, breathing hard. His voice comes out in a low rasp, intense in its sincerity. 

“You taste so fucking good,” he mumbles dazed as he returns to his ministrations. Lapping against you like he couldn’t possibly get enough. 

A wave of warmth crashes over you at his words—any lingering insecurities vanish beneath the heat of his devotion. You tug lightly at his hair, guiding him back, and he happily obliges. His tongue moves in slow, deliberate strokes at first, building you up in a dizzying ascent, then quickens when your moans become urgent.

Your heels dig into his back, and you choke out something unintelligible—his name, a plea, a broken sob of bliss. He groans in response, the sound reverberating through your entire body, heightening the sensation until you think you might shatter from it. 

There’s something almost reverent in how thorough he is, like he wants to memorise every reaction, every hitch of your breath.

“You’re making the sweetest fucking noises, baby.” He murmurs. “Driving me insane.”

Tension coils in your stomach, winding tighter with each measured flick of his tongue. Your grip on his hand is borderline crushing, but he just grins against you, absolutely thrilled by the desperation in your touch. 

That’s all the encouragement he needs to push you closer and closer to the edge. His name tumbles from your lips again, a breathless entreaty, and he groans, the vibration sending sparks skittering across your skin.

He can tell you’re close—he can feel it in the way your hips jerk, the way your pussy clenches, the way your voice climbs. And he wants it for you, wants to be the reason you come apart so completely that you’ll never doubt his devotion again. 

“Come on, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” before diving back in with a perfect, rhythmic swirl that makes your entire body tense.

The tension snaps. A rush of pleasure bursts inside you, and you let out a cry that would embarrass you if you could think about anything but the ecstasy roaring through your veins. 

Your hands grip his shoulders, nails biting into his skin, and he moans like the taste of your release is exactly what he’s been dying for. He works you through every pulse, every aftershock, with gentle flicks of his tongue until you’re quivering in oversensitivity, pushing lightly at his head to let him know you can’t take another second.

When he finally straightens up to see you—lying back against his pillows, clad in just your bra—you spot a flicker of pure hunger crossing his face. He swallows hard and you see your release glistening against his chin as he does. He’s trying to keep himself tethered to sanity, but it’s a losing battle.

“Not fair that I’m the only one so… exposed,” you breathe out, hooking a finger into the hem of his jumper.

 “Impatient, huh?” He lets out a shaky chuckle as he licks his lips.

You roll your eyes in faux annoyance, tugging firmly at the fabric. He gets the hint. In one smooth motion, he yanks his shirt over his head and tosses it somewhere behind him. You catch a glimpse of toned arms and the lean planes of his chest, and it steals your breath all over again.

But he’s not done—he pops open the button of his jeans, sliding them down until they pool at his ankles, stepping out with a sense of urgency that has you biting your lip. For a moment, he just stands there, letting you take in the sight of him, hair messy, eyes blown wide with desire, wearing only his boxers.

“Better?” he asks, eyebrows lifting.

You drag your gaze up and down, unrepentant in your ogling. “Much.”

Steve’s eyes glitter with raw need as he hovers over you, his body pressed so tight you can hardly breathe. Every breath you take is steeped in the mix of his cologne and the sweet, desperate scent of your own arousal. 

“God, you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous,” he mutters under his breath, his gaze roaming over your curves with a barely restrained hunger. One of his hands grips your thigh, dragging it higher around his waist. “Don’t know how the hell I got so lucky.”

You can’t manage a reply—your breath stutters as he runs his other hand up your side, fingers skimming your ribs, his thumb grazing the underside of your breast in a fleeting touch. The contrast between how tender he’s being and the way his voice drips with a filthy promise makes you whimper, arching into his touch.

He leans in, teeth nipping at your lower lip before he kisses you slow and deep. It's messy and you can taste yourself on his tongue. 

“Fuck,” he whines, “I need you, sweetheart. Need you right now—can I?” His voice cracks with urgency, and you feel every syllable reverberate through your body.

“Yes,” you whisper, voice trembling with anticipation. “Please, Steve. I—”

He cuts you off with another kiss, sliding his hand between your thighs, which have only got stickier. He groans at the way you shiver, so worked up that you feel like you might combust if he doesn’t fuck you this instant.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “So wet for me.” Then, in a lower tone. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby—gonna make you forget anything else exists except how good my cock feels inside you.”

His words took you by surprise. Your usual sweet boyfriend was downright obscene with his words.

You knew he had a sharp tongue, but you had no idea how damn filthy he could make it. 

He reaches into the bedside table and tears the condom wrapper off with his teeth, making quick work of sliding it over his length.

The moment he lines his cock up at your entrance, you can feel the tension in his body—like he’s holding back a tidal wave of desire, absolutely determined not to hurt you, to make sure you’re comfortable.

“You good?” he rasps, voice tight.

“Yes,” you pant. “Steve… please.”

He exhales a ragged breath and pushes into you, inch by inch, until the stretch of him draws a moan so raw from your lips that he answers with a guttural “Fuck.” 

Your head falls back, the sensation an exquisite combination of pleasure and the ache of being so completely stuffed. He stays there a moment, trembling arms caging you in, nose brushing yours as you grip him like a vice.

“Angel,” he chokes out, voice thick, “You—you feel so fucking perfect. Look at me.”

You force your eyes open, meeting his gaze, and the ferocity of his desire sends another wave of arousal flooding through your veins, clenching around his length. 

“You feel that, sweetheart? Feel how deep I am?”

All you can do is nod dumbly as his hand presses on your lower stomach. He knows you can feel him there.

He starts a slow rhythm, hips rolling, each thrust calculated to bring you higher. And for all his filthy talk, there’s a sweetness in the way he cups your cheek, kisses your jaw, your collarbone, like he can’t decide which part of you he loves most.

“God, yes,” he groans, each thrust picking up in intensity. “You like that? Tell me you like it.”

“I love it,” you gasp, fingers clawing at his back. “Steve, you feel—God, you feel amazing.”

He lets out a breathless laugh that ends in another throaty moan as he angles his hips just so, making you keen against his lips. His pace quickens, every stroke hitting deeper, sending sparks of pleasure through every nerve.

“Fuck—baby, you’re so tight,” he hisses, his mouth at your ear. “So damn tight for me. Never want this to end—wanna keep you like this, under me, always on my cock—cumming so hard you forget your own name.”

Jesus, if you knew this was how he was going to talk, you would have given him the green light weeks ago.

He punctuates the filthy promise with a particularly deep thrust, and your toes curl, a cry spilling from your throat as you cling to him. You’re quickly losing yourself in the haze of his words, his body, his everything.

You utter his name in a choked sob, and it’s like a starter’s pistol. He shifts his angle just enough that the strokes perfectly grind against that sensitive spot inside your walls. The pleasure mounts in a dizzying spiral, your body tensing as you hover on the brink of release.

“That’s it,” he coaxes, voice gone ragged, snapping his hips more insistently. “God, cum for me, sweetheart. I need to feel it—want to feel it so bad.”

And with one more roll of his hips, you do—crying out, body arching as the orgasm shatters through you. Every nerve in your body lights up as you clamp down, and his guttural moan tells you he’s right there with you, grinding through your climax until he’s spilling himself into the rubber, breathing your name over and over like a prayer.

For a moment, you’re both lost in the aftershocks, hearts pounding, bodies tangled in the sheets. Then he sags against you, pressing lazy, tender kisses to your shoulder and murmuring small, breathless praises that make your cheeks burn with warmth.

The afterglow is still pulsing between you—soft, warm, and intimate. He leans down to press feathery kisses to your shoulder, your chest, up the side of your neck, murmuring words of reassurance and awe.

“You did so good,” he breathes, voice low and reverent. “So perfect.”

Heat flutters in your chest at the praise, and you can’t help but giggle, reaching up to tangle your fingers in his hair and guide his face to yours. Your lips meet in a searing kiss, slow and sweet. When you finally pull back, you find him watching you with those big, earnest eyes.

“Was I… okay?” he asks, cheeks turning pink in a bashful sort of way. “Like, everything good for you?”

“More than okay.” You let out a satisfied sigh, your body still humming with pleasure. “That was perfect.”

“Yeah?” he echoes, a shy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah.” You brush a thumb across his lower lip, feeling a spark of amusement as you remember the filth he whispered moments ago. “When were you gonna tell me you had such a dirty mouth?”

Instantly, his face flames. He cannot be blamed for what he said in the heat of the moment. It was hard to have a filter when he had you mewling underneath him.

“Hey, well, uh… I don’t… I mean, I—”

“Shh.” You chuckle, placing a finger over his lips “I loved it.”

“Oh yeah?” He exhales, relief and pride mingling. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind—my girl likes it a little dirty.” 

“C’mon, lover boy.” A fresh wave of laughter bubbles out of you. You let him help you up, your legs still a bit shaky. He steadies you with a strong arm around your waist and guides you to the bathroom so you can rinse off the sheen of sweat and bliss.

The shower is warm and comforting, the water sluicing away every last trace of tension as you help each other soap up and rinse off. When you emerge, toweling your hair and feeling the pleasant ache of satisfaction in your muscles, you notice Steve holding out one of his old T-shirts for you to slip on. You beam, tugging it over your head before crawling into bed next to him, the soft cotton drowning you in his familiar scent.

He pulls you close, cradling you against his chest. The hush of the room, the warmth of the covers, and the steady sound of his heartbeat lull you into a sweet, sleepy contentment.

“Hey,” he murmurs, turning so his nose brushes yours.

“Mmm?” you reply, lashes fluttering.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

Your heart clenches at the simple sincerity in his tone. “I love you too, Steve.”

And with that, his arms tighten around you, and you drift into a peaceful sleep, knowing that in the morning, you’ll both wake up in the same bed, same sappy looks on your faces, same lovesick smiles as you bask in the golden morning light. Steve will probably be watching you already, grinning like a fool, fingers tracing lazy patterns over your back, because he’s just that smitten.

[atlabeth]

something about her

masterlist

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you’re reminded why you’re really here while spencer does some unwanted self reflection.

a/n: things have been a little too fun and fluffy around these parts so i had to fix it. it’s easy to forget you’re still dealing w a stalker when you’re busy living in denial <3 enjoy the mess! this whole thing is in spencer's pov bc this all got soooo far away from me

title from the song by stephen sanchez

wc: 5.3k

warning(s): things start to ramp up! stalking, anxiety, lowkey panic attacks, angst, hurt/comfort, r almost has a panic attack, alcohol/mentions of alcoholism, the usual. but more bonding!!

Spencer can’t sleep. 

He’s tried every trick in the book. Counting sheep, counting to one hundred, counting to one hundred backwards, going through the alphabet, going through the alphabet backwards, methods with actual scientific research backing them—none of it works. He’s stared at the ceiling for most of the night. 

He feels like a hypocrite most of all, preaching the importance of adequate sleep when he’ll be lucky to get five hours. But it looks like you barely sleep as is. He probably should keep preaching to you. 

There’s a myriad of reasons to explain it. His hyperactive brain has been responsible for many restless nights. He’s still in unfamiliar territory, and he hasn’t gotten used to sleeping on this bed yet. Lest he forget, he’s your first and only line of protection here from your stalker. That’s enough to keep anyone awake, even FBI. 

But then there’s also… you in general. 

Spencer can’t say he tries not to think about you, because this past week it’s felt like the only thing he’s thought about. 

It’s practically impossible, even before you were shoved into this house together. You have a way of tunneling your way into a person’s mind and refusing to leave—especially his. 

Again, it’s easy enough to pass off. You’re the only ones here, and the time you’re not spending alone you’re spending with each other. Your only choice beyond isolation is to talk to Spencer, and it seems you’re slowly moving past preferring it over him. 

But he doesn’t think he can just pass this off.

He can’t get your smile out of his head. Your moments of levity are so few and far between that it makes them shine bright as the sun. Spencer has learned he loves how you look when you’re happy. He just wishes it wasn’t such a rarity.

Gideon’s lecture rings in his ears. He really had two jobs—keep you safe, and don’t fall for you. Hopefully he only fails the one. 

It’s not like he has to worry about it, though. You might not hate him as much anymore, but you still don’t really like him. As much as it bums him out, it’s for the best. It means that in a week or two, when the team has caught the unsub and all this is over, you can both go your separate ways and you’ll never have to see Spencer again. 

That bums him out even more, though. 

He lets out a long sigh. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. JJ, Elle, now you—Morgan would say he really knew how to pick ‘em. Girls who didn’t like him back. 

Just then his phone rings, jolting him out what could have been a convincing play for sleep if not for his thoughts, and he groans a little. Spencer fumbles around for it without lifting his head from the pillow, only turning slightly so he can flick it open and place it against his ear. 

“Gideon, why are you calling this early?” he mumbles. 

“I hope you’re treating her well.”

The gravelly voice through the speaker is a shock, and Spencer doesn’t really process it. His brain still hasn’t turned on. 

“Gideon?” he asks again. 

“I know you ran away. Trying to protect her like you have any right.” 

His blood goes cold as the words finally register. 

This is their unsub. This— this is your stalker. 

“What do you want?” he asks, unable to keep the sharp edge out of his words. 

“You’ve hurt her the same way he has,” the voice continues. “He’s ruined our lives and you don’t care.”

Spencer’s mind is simultaneously blank and running wild. He knows he should try to profile him or talk to him to get something out of him but— but all he feels is anger. 

“What do you want?” he repeats, louder this time. 

“Think about your priorities, Agent Reid. I’ll be watching.” 

The disconnected tone blares in his ear before he can say anything else, and Spencer stares down at his phone in confused annoyance. 

What kind of bullshit game is this guy trying to play with you? 

First he stalks you for a month—possibly months— then sends pictures of you to your door, then forces you into hiding and now he’s just mocking you like this? 

If Gideon is the goal, this bastard is doing a great job of dragging you along. 

Spencer’s heart jumps into his throat all of a sudden. You. 

He grabs his gun off his bedside table then lunges to the door with all the athleticism of a newborn baby giraffe, nearly tripping in his haste to get out into the hallway. He slams your door open once he gets to your room, and the relief that floods through his body when you shoot up from your previously sleeping position is almost dangerous. 

“Spencer?” you grumble, still completely out of it as you rub your eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

You’re alive. You’re okay. You’re still here. 

He opens his mouth to respond, still kind of out of breath, when his phone rings again. Spencer takes it out and is already pressing it to his ear. 

“What the hell do you want from her?” he barks. The absolute nerve of your stalker to call back—

“Reid, it’s me.”

It’s Gideon’s voice that comes out of the speaker this time, and Spencer feels the wave of red hot rage boiling in his stomach crash against a wall of confusion. 

“I—” He swallows deeply, his eyes flicking over to your befuddled expression momentarily before he feels himself flush bright red and look away. “I’m so sorry, sir. I thought you were someone else.” 

“You got a call?”

His blood runs cold. “You mean you got one too?”

Gideon curses and he hears him move around. Pacing in his bedroom, if Spencer knew anything about him. “Tell me my daughter is safe.”

“She— she is,” he stammers. “I’m with her right now.”

“Spencer, what the fuck is going on?” You’re sitting up now, much more aware than you were fifteen seconds ago. “Why do you have your gun— why are you talking to my dad?”

“Do a perimeter check,” Gideon demands. “If he’s there—”

“I know.” Spencer looks back at you and sighs. “You should talk to her.”

“I know,” Gideon echoes. “Let her stay on the line with me while you figure things out.”

He nods and takes the phone from his ear. “Gideon wants to talk with you.”

You’re standing up now, a dumbfounded expression on your face. “Hold on, you still haven’t answered me! What is going on?”

“I got a call from our guy,” he says. Your eyes widen and he can see your chest still. His heart clenches at the sight. “Gideon did too.”

“What?” you breathe. “Wh— what did he want?”

“To scare you.” Spencer holds up his gun. “Can you hide in the closet while I do a perimeter check?”

You scoff. Your demeanor is still shaken, but the fire is more prominent. He’s started to admire that about you. “Spencer, I am not hiding in the closet.”

“Then lock yourself in the bathroom again!” he exclaims. He doesn’t mean for the outburst, but he can’t help it. “Just— I can’t focus if I’m worried about you, and right now the only thing I can think of is how worried I am about you, so I need to know you’re safe while I do this.”

You stare at him, and Spencer stares right back, if a little frantic. He feels his chest rise and fall from the force, a stark contrast to your still body—similar to the panic he knows is in his eyes to the steely cool of yours. 

“I’m not letting you potentially face an insane stalker by yourself,” you finally say. 

Spencer huffs. “I am an FBI agent. I’ve faced worse things than insane stalkers.”

“We’ve been together this whole time,” you insist. “We— we can do this together too.” 

He looks at you again—he can tell you’re not going to move on this. Spencer eventually sighs and holds the phone back up to his ear. 

“I’m assuming you heard that?” 

“Let her go with you,” Gideon says. “It’s riskier for her to be on her own than outside with you. But stay on the line, and stay alert. Nothing can happen to her—do you understand?” 

“I won’t let anything happen to her,” he says. “I meant what I said.” 

“...Good.” 

Spencer holds the phone out to you again, and your lip curls. 

“I’m not—” 

“Come on,” he interrupts, gesturing with his head into the hallway. 

Your annoyance melts into acknowledgement when you realize he’s not blowing you off again, and you nod as you take the phone. Spencer wraps both hands around his gun as he starts moving, you matching his pace as you follow him. 

“Yeah, Dad,” he hears you say behind him. “I’m here.” 

This is what he meant by you needing to stay behind. He’s worried about you more than anything, yes, but he also can’t help but listen. Spencer has very keen ears, to everyone’s simultaneous disdain and appreciation on the team—it makes him a very good asset in the field, but also a very good asset when it comes time for office gossip. 

“No, nothing’s happened yet. Yes— yes, I’m okay, I promise. Spencer’s done an annoyingly good job of keeping me safe.” 

Once Spencer reaches the door, he peers through the peephole to make sure their unsub isn’t embarrassingly obvious. It’s clear, and he turns to face you and raises a hand, then places his finger on his lips. 

“Uh— I have to go dark for a sec,” you say. “We’re checking the perimeter. Don’t worry, I’ll scream if anyone tries to kill me. Be back soon.” 

You pull the phone away from your ear and nod at Spencer, and he holds his breath before he opens the door. 

The frigid air hits both of you at once, and he hears then sees your sharp exhale of breath. It’s been a while since either of you have been outside, but it’s good to know he hasn’t been missing superb weather. 

“Stay close and stay quiet,” Spencer whispers. “I’m your only line of defense out here.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some remark, but you merely nod in response. Spencer hopes he hides the shock he feels before he turns away and starts walking. 

Dawn isn’t for a few more hours—the only real light source is the moon high in the night sky. It doesn't exactly help his nerves to be doing all this in the dark, but part of him is almost thankful to be doing this. Spencer doesn’t know how to deal with you or any of the emotions you stir inside of him or the sleepless nights you cause because he can’t stop thinking of you—but he knows how to do his job, and he knows how to do it damn well. 

He just wishes it didn’t have to come with the unfortunate side effect of you being in immense danger. 

But Spencer does his best to push those thoughts to the back of his mind—right now, he has to have one focus. 

And he does. The two of you stick close to the side of the house, his eyes darting all over as he tries to dig out any details, any possible sign that the unsub was here. The ground is still a thin layer of mud from the storm last night, so it should be easy to find footprints. Spencer’s Converse aren’t doing a great job at keeping him upright—slipping in front of you is too embarrassing for him to even think about. 

All of a sudden, he stops, his arm shooting out in front of you. You don’t realize it for a second and you run into him, your hand wrapping around his arm on instinct to steady yourself. If he wasn’t so shocked at what he was looking at, he would have been bright red over it. 

“What the h—” 

“Footprints,” he whispers.  “Th— they’re almost gone, but—” 

“He was here?” you interrupt. Fear spikes in your voice and your grip tightens on his arm. 

“Last night, maybe.” Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, how he feels—he’s not going to make you feel worse. “The rain probably washed most of them away.” 

“Spencer—”

“I am surprised these are still here, though,” he continues. “The rainfall was really heavy. I wouldn’t expect them to stay in mud like this—” 

“Spencer, look where we are!” you exclaim, gesturing hard with your other hand. He realizes that you’ve let go of his arm by now, but he pushes it out of his head and looks. 

“The window to your room,” he says. The blinds are closed and the lock is in place—he’s made sure every night—but there are small enough gaps between the shutters. 

“He was watching us last night!” Your breathing is starting to come heavier and faster now. “We talked about all that shit and he was just here watching and we didn’t even fucking know!” 

You’re on the edge of hyperventilating. Spencer has got to get you down or else you’re going to have a full blown panic attack out here. 

“Hey, hey— look at me.” He says your name and that, if anything else, gets you to listen and meet his eyes. They’re filled with an unbridled fear he hasn’t seen in you until now. “Don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of this. He’s not here.” 

“He was watching us—” 

“And we’ll figure out what to do next. But you have to stay calm. You can’t let him win.” 

You’re still harried, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your eyes dart all around. Spencer says your name softly, tucks his gun into its holster, then takes your hands in his, hoping that it gives you something to focus that isn’t the rest of this. 

“Just look at me,” he says softly. 

You suck in another shaky breath, but you’re not as frantic as before. You at least look him in the eye, and you don’t wrench your hands out of his grasp. Progress, if nothing else. 

“Breathe with me.” 

You nod—still panicked, but better. Spencer breathes in deep and you do the same, following as he counts up and down with his fingers. It takes a few rounds, but eventually, he’s gotten you off the edge. 

Spencer says your name again, just as soft as before. You’re still breathing slowly in and out. 

“How do you feel?” 

“Better,” you murmur. “I—” 

You’re interrupted by the phone you both forgot was in your hand, Gideon’s voice muddled as it comes from the receiver. You rip your hands out of Spencer’s as you come back into yourself, shaking your head and blinking a few times while you take a few steps away from him. 

“I’m here, Dad,” you say. “We— we’re okay. No, nothing happened.” 

Spencer blinks too. He looks down at his hands, then glances at you, then shakes his head. He walks back over to the footprint and crouches down, trying to keep his mind clear. He commits every detail he can to memory, doing his best to ignore the conversation with your dad in the background. 

Well, he tunes in a little. He can’t help it—he wants to make sure you’re okay. 

“We found a footprint outside my room,” you’re saying. “Spencer thinks it’s your guy. I have no idea. Yes, we are. You don’t have to be so pushy.” You sigh and he feels your gaze on him. “Spencer, we have to finish this up. Dad wants us back inside.” 

He clears his throat as he nods a few times. “Let me get a picture of this first.” 

You hand him the phone and Spencer snaps some photos from a few different angles, hoping forensics will be able to get anything out of it. He hears Gideon’s voice again and he holds it to his ear once more. 

“Gideon?” 

“Reid, get her back inside,” he says. “We can’t take any unnecessary risks.” 

“We haven’t finished securing the perimeter,” he says. 

“Then finish it and get back inside!” he exclaims. “You have proof that he was there—” 

“We don’t know it’s him,” Spencer interrupts. 

“We know there was somebody there!” Gideon shoots back. “I’m not risking her, and from what I’ve heard, you don’t want to either.” 

Spencer feels his cheeks warm as he looks back at you, and he pulls his gun back out of its holster. “Come on. We have to finish this up.” 

“That’s what I said,” you mutter, but you follow him without further protest. 

The rest of the check goes by quickly without any other distractions or surprises, and soon enough you’re back inside. While Spencer chats with Gideon, updating him in a calmer manner on everything with the phone call and the footprint, you’re ruffling through the cabinets. 

Eventually, he sees you pull out a bottle of clear liquid from the corner of his eye. He frowns and realizes that it’s vodka. 

“It’s 4:29 in the morning,” Spencer says, cutting off Gideon almost absentmindedly as you pop the bottle open. 

“And we found out that this place isn’t nearly as safe as anyone thought,” you respond sharply. “I think that warrants some drinking.” 

“That means that you should have a clear mind,” he says. “Alcohol impairs your brain’s communication pathways, as well as your judgment and coordination.” 

“I’ve gotten drunk before, genius,” you mutter as you search for a glass. You end up choosing a the mug you used for coffee the other morning then start pouring. “Enough to know it’s what I need right now.” 

“It can also cause mood swings,” Spencer says. “I think that’s the last thing you need right now.”

You roll your eyes, not even bothering to look back at him as you finish pouring a concerning amount of liquor into the mug. 

“What is going on over there?” Gideon asks. Spencer remembers he’s holding the phone and he puts it back to his ear. 

“I think your daughter is an alcoholic,” he comments. 

“I’m not an alcoholic,” you say sharply. “I just can’t focus on all this right now.” 

“It’s best if she gets some sleep,” Gideon says. “All of this is likely terrifying to her, no matter how hard she tries to hide it.” 

Spencer’s mind flashes back to your near panic attack—your wide eyes full of fear and harried breathing that only made you hyperventilate more when you realized you couldn’t control it. It’s too easy to think of you as some untouchable being from the way you interact with him, bothered by nothing and no one. 

The mask cracks on rare occasion. It makes you seem frighteningly real. 

“You’re right,” Spencer nods. You sip your drink without flinching. He doesn’t think he can even call it a drink if it’s just straight liquor. “We could all use some sleep.” 

“Just make sure she’s safe,” he says. “Make sure the whole place is secure. We’re not—” 

“Taking risks,” he finishes. “Believe me, I know.” 

Gideon is silent for a second, and Spencer takes the time to look at you. The bags under your eyes are even more prominent, and there’s a haunted glint in your eyes as you stare at the wall. You shiver ever so slightly, the outside chill still lingering on your skin. You’ve got pajama pants on but just a plain tee. You didn’t have time to put a sweatshirt on before he pulled you outside in the mania of it all. 

You really are beautiful—but you’re so damn tired. 

Spencer realizes that all he wants to do is give you some respite. 

“I’ll call you back later, then,” Gideon says. “To check in.” 

“Okay.” Spencer’s throat bobs as he averts his eyes from you. “Get some rest too, Gideon.” 

The other end hangs up without a response. Spencer stares down at the phone for a few seconds then sighs before he tucks it back into his pocket. 

“What’d he want?” you ask. 

“I can’t believe you’re drinking vodka out of a coffee mug at four in the morning.”

You frown. “You don’t get to judge me.” 

“It’s not good for you.” 

“None of this is good for me,” you enunciate. “What did my dad want?”

“I’m serious,” Spencer continues. “Drinking on an empty stomach can lead to low blood sugar— drinking at this hour is going to completely disrupt your circadian rhythm.” 

“You know what else has disrupted my circadian rhythm?” you ask mockingly. “Being here. Having a stalker. Finding out that said stalker was also here, watching us. I think that’s a little worse for me than the alcohol.” 

Spencer stares at you, and as you’re prone to do, you stare back. Eventually, he shakes his head and looks away, deciding to quit while he’s ahead. 

“He wants you to get some sleep,” he says. “Wants us both to.” 

You scoff and shake your head, downing much more vodka than you should in one go. Again, you don’t flinch—for a schoolteacher, you handle your liquor very well. “Like I’d get to sleep after this.” 

“It’s important,” Spencer insists. “You’ve gotten— what? Three hours of sleep?” 

“Well, all this excitement has woken me up,” you say. 

“Well, I’m tired,” Spencer says. “So I guess I’ll see you in a few hours.” 

He starts to walk to his room, figuring that you need time to cool off, when—

“Wait.” 

Your voice is oddly strangled, and Spencer stops in his tracks. 

“I—” you stop and sigh, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “I don’t want to be alone right now.” 

“Our rooms are close to each other,” he says. “I’ll be able to hear if you yell.” 

You rub your eyes as you let out another haggard sigh. “I can’t stand to be in that room, Spencer. Not knowing that— that he was right there.” 

Spencer can’t look away from you. Your eyes glint with tears you’re trying to hold back, but you’re laid bare in a way he knows you hate. 

You’re being pushed to your limits against your will, and it kills him that he can’t do anything to help you. Honestly, sometimes he feels useless being stuck here while the rest of the team is out there actively working to help you. All he can do is stand around here and annoy you. 

Except you want him there. For the first time since all of this has started, you want him there. 

It’s the only thing he can do for you right now. How can he refuse? 

“Okay,” he says softly, and he nods. “Okay. We can share my room tonight.” 

The tension in your shoulders fades ever so slightly, and you—thankfully—set the mug down. “Keep your gun close.” 

“I’m not sure you want me shooting when I’m sleep deprived,” Spencer says. 

Your lips twitch just so, and Spencer’s heart skips a beat. He can’t help it. 

He should have known he was in too deep the moment he stepped into this house with you. 

-

“Very cozy,” you say. 

“It’s the same as your room,” Spencer responds. 

You shrug. “It’s messy. Makes it feel like home.” 

He feels his face flush. “I haven’t really been focused on keeping things clean.” 

“Relax.” You sit down on the bed. “I’m not judging you.” 

“Good.” Spencer glances at you as he moves his bag off of your side of the bed. “Because that would be very rude after the generosity I’ve shown you.” 

You laugh and Spencer finds himself smiling at the sound of it. He’s glad he’s turned away, and he’s glad he manages to push it away by the time he’s turned back around. 

You’re wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants now, and it’s strange to see you look so… soft. Every part of you is so sharp, some of it jagged—sometimes you harden around him, sometimes you mellow. He’s a bit tired of the back and forth. 

Maybe that’s what makes him speak up. 

“I’m tired of us always being at odds.” 

Your eyebrows rise and you look at him. “Really?” 

Spencer nods, his will bolstered. “Really. We have a nice talk one night, and I feel like we’ve had a breakthrough, and then you go back to hating me the next morning. I’m— I’m sick of it.” 

He expects you to shoot back with some mocking comment like you always do, making fun of him for wanting more than what little you give him. But instead, you lay back against the pillows and shrug. 

“Okay.” 

He blinks. “Really?” 

“Really,” you nod. “I’m too tired to want to fight right now.” 

“You’re the one that always tries to fight me.” 

“Aren’t you fighting me right now?” 

Spencer shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable.” 

You chuckle. “Still fighting.” 

He stares at you. As usual, you stare back, but this time you can’t fully bite back your smile. For some reason, that gets Spencer to break. He smiles too, and he settles down on the bed next to you. There’s a pillow buffer between you, but it’s still a lot closer than he’s used to. 

Well, he did hold your hands earlier, but that’s because he was bringing you down from a panic attack. That doesn’t mean anything. 

“What a day,” he mutters. 

“And it hasn’t even started yet,” you muse. “I don’t know how you do this kind of shit every day.” 

“I’m not really the target of any of this,” he says. “I usually stay behind the scenes. I’m good with geographical profiles, not chasing down unsubs.” 

You look over at him. “You haven’t really talked about anything you do for the BAU.” 

Spencer shrugs. “I thought it would be a sore subject.” 

You pause. “You’re… probably right.” 

“I figured.” He chuckles, then glances over at you. “But you already know enough about me. You said you would talk about your job. Teaching, and your kids, and all that.” 

Your eyebrows rise. “You actually care?”

Spencer gives you a look. “I thought we were past that part in our friendship.”

“We’re not friends.”

He shrugs. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, but you go on anyway. “I’m a highschool teacher in Fairfax. You know Mount Vernon High?” 

Spencer nods. “I know the name of every high school in Virginia.” 

“Of course you do,” you huff. “But that’s besides the point. I did my student teacher hours there, and they offered me a full time position. I took it, so I guess I’ve been there since senior year.” You purse your lips. “It’s a little depressing when you look at it like that.” 

“Then don’t look at it like that,” he say. “You said you loved your job.” 

“I do!” You smile again, a bit lighter this time. “My teachers were a huge part of my life, especially in high school.” The lightness fades some, but he notices how you try to hide it. “If I could help even one kid the same way my teachers helped me, then I would have done something with my life.” 

“That’s very noble of you,” Spencer says. “I don’t think I ever would have guessed you were a teacher.” 

“Oh, please,” you say. “You’re a profiler. You’d figure it out.” 

“You wouldn’t know I work with the FBI at first glance.” 

“Well, I’m not a profiler. Besides,” you tip a shoulder, “I have the ulterior motive of wanting to introduce kids to the wonders of physics.” 

Spencer’s eyes light up. “You’re a physics teacher?” 

“I teach a load of science classes, but I carry the banner for AP physics.” You huff a laugh. “You’re probably the only one that doesn’t sound lame to.” 

“I love physics!” he exclaims. “I’ve got a PhD in engineering, remember?” 

You smile— no, you actually grin at him, and he can’t believe he finally broke through the barrier with science. 

“Trust me, I’d love to talk physics with you, boy genius, but—” you’re interrupted with a yawn, and Spencer resists the urge to do the same— “but I think I’m actually about to fall asleep.”  

Spencer shakes his head with a small laugh. He realizes that he’s relaxed while you’ve been talking, limbs looser and fully laying back against the pillows. 

“This was actually part of my master plan to get you to rest,” he says. “Talking science always works with the team.” 

He sees you smile out of his peripherals as you lay fully down, can feel every shift of your body against the mattress while you try to find a good position. 

“It wasn’t you,” you say. “It was the vodka.” 

 “Of course,” he agrees. 

Silence falls over the room as the two of you settle in. You take off your sweatshirt, a slight shiver running through you once you’re back in your tank top. Spencer removes his glasses, and he blinks a few times to adjust to the blurriness.

The bed is big enough for you to both have your own space,, and you’re both careful to keep your backs to each other. The silence is comfortable despite the previous animosity. Maybe all it really did take was for him to start talking science. 

Eventually, though—

“Thank you, Spencer.” Your voice is little more than a whisper, but it cuts through the silence like a knife. “I— I know you don’t like me. So it means a lot that you still do all this for me.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, taking your words in. The mingled sounds of your breathing are really the only things filling the room, and he can feel your weight against the mattress. It’s all oddly intimate. 

“You’re wrong.” He’s almost surprised at the sound of his own voice. “I do like you.” 

Your shock shows through the silence. Spencer takes his chance. 

“You’re going through something no one should ever have to experience, and you’re doing it with someone you think stole your life from you.” Spencer shifts ever so slightly. His hands feel inexplicably clammy. “It was unfair of me to take Gideon’s side so often.” 

“Still.” Your words are muffled as you speak half into the mattress. “We have more important things to worry about. It was unfair of me to spend so much time giving you shit. You— you didn’t even know I existed until a month ago.” 

“But now I do.” He pauses. “And I’m glad I do. So you can start looking forward instead of always looking back.” 

Again, silence. It lasts so long Spencer wonders if you’ve fallen asleep. Your breathing is thankfully steady (a side of him is always focused on your breathing just to make sure) and you don’t shift much, so he wouldn’t be surprised. You were exhausted—

“Spencer?” 

His eyes open. He didn’t even realize they had closed. You sound half-asleep, your voice nothing more than a whisper. He wishes more than anything he knew what was going through your mind right now. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m glad you’re here.” 

His heart stutters so blatantly he’s sure you can hear it. Spencer honestly doesn’t know what to say—his mouth is so dry he doesn’t know if he can say anything. 

Spencer thought you hated him. You thought Spencer hated you. 

It’s ironic. 

“Me too,” he eventually manages. 

But there’s no response. You must’ve already fallen asleep again, just conscious enough to say a few words. The rude awakening mixed with the fear and alcohol couldn’t have done you much good. 

Spencer swallows the doubt in his throat and closes his eyes again, trying not to focus on you. It’s practically impossible. 

He’s glad, at least, that you’re able to sleep. You deserve to rest more than anyone. 

Eventually, the sound of your breathing lulls Spencer to sleep. 

You were the one thing he didn’t have on his list.

[maiyz]

megumi valentines special

w.c 0.6k masterlist

in all honestly, yn was afraid of fushiguro. the first time she saw him was when she was hiding from student council, she turned the corner to find him on a pile of bodies. not the most welcoming sight.

their relationship remained like that. yn was afraid of fushiguro, fushiguro probably didnt know that she existed. sure he saw her in the hallways from time to time. but those prolonged gazes glances didnt compare to the amount of times yn nearly tripped trying to silently run away.

when she entered high school she assumed that fushiguro would stop, and for the most part, he did. sure he was aggravated by a couple of students every now and then, but they had it coming honestly.

fushiguro attended every class and was on every a honor roll. he got nearly every girls attention, yn was not an exception. he was the standard of beauty, who could blame her.

although, out of all the girls in the school, yn was just average. if in fushiguros standards, probably below average. so she swallowed her feelings, if someone were to ask her who she liked. “no one.” she would say avoiding their gaze.

valentines was coming up soon, yn wonders if she would get any chocolates. hopefully romantic chocolates. maybe a boy in her class. maybe megumi fushiguro

eventually valentines rolls around and not a single chocolate left in her desk. thats fine, she wasnt betting on getting any anyways.

while eating lunch she heard girls talking about fushiguro possibly having chocolates.

‘wow. what a lucky girl.’ she thinks to herself.

nearly every girl (and boy) in the school was trying to figure out who it was for. he refused to say for his own reasons.

the last bell rings and school is dismissed for the day. yn walks home in the cold weather wishing she would’ve worn stockings for brought another jacket.

she hears speed walking behind her but doesnt bother to look back, she knows that whoevers behind her definitely isnt trying to interact with her.

yn feels a tap on her shoulder and shivers run down her back, their hands were cold. she turns around to find fushiguro, holding a small bag of chocolates.

“i got these for you for helping me.”

“help you with what?”

he shoves the bag further in your hands, looking to the side blushing.

“take them.”

fushiguro sprints off without looking back. “hey wait what was that for!” yn shouts.

after that she started noticing fushiguros lingering stares glares, did she do something wrong?

she assumed that fushiguro messed up and gave it to the erong person, or it was just gratitude chocolate. although, yn has barely spoken to fushiguro let alone done him a favor. she wonders who he really wanted to give them to. maybe that popular girl in his class. what was her name again?

a couple weeks after that chocolate incident, in p.e she overheard fushiguro talking with his only friend. “do you really think shes not getting my hints?”

“i wouldnt get them either.” (ita)

“i thought they were obvious” (fushi)

you quietly walk faster on the track. pretending you cant see fushiguro blushing and that other kid pointing with his mouth covered.

after abiut 1 minute you hear someone sprinting behind you. you think nothing of the footsteps until they start slowing down once they get within a couple feet across from you.

fushiguro looks to the his right, where youre standing. you divert you eyes. he takes inching closer to you.

“do you get it” (fushi)

you look at him in confusion. “hm?”

“get it?” (fushi)

“get what?”

…

“do you like me?” (fushi)

…

a/n: pls dont hate me because im bad at writing im sorryyy sorry 😞

[amphibianauthor]

This! I was also very very lucky to have similar parenting circumstances. I was raised with parents who treated me as a mini-adult that could be explained choices. I will say one of the requirements for this type of parenting style is to understand that your child might be smarter than you in some areas or ask questions you feel like you should know and you don't. And you should be okay telling your child that you don't know something. That your own ego will be okay if you feel stupid.

Let me explain.

As a child, it was an established rule in my house that no questions are bad questions and my parents would ALWAYS answer questions as accurately (but age appropriate) as possible.* Questions were encouraged. If my parents couldn't answer a question right away they'd say something like "I'll answer once we finish x."

Questions were never a thing to be demonized in my house. Whenever I had questions/feelings, I always felt like I could go to my parents for advice or feedback without judgement. No matter the feelings we were allowed to question everything--from the rules they made, the reasoning behind said rules, why my parents were feeling a certain way, why grandparents might act specific ways, why I was being treated a certain way, I could question it and get an honest, truthful answer back. No passive aggressiveness ever either, No question was ever stupid in their eyes, genuinely. (There are too many teachers who say that exact quote and then give kids judgmental looks for asking things or being like 'well if you were paying attention to xyz')

Now, eventually your kid will ask you questions that might get under your skin or make you feel inferior because you feel like you don't know the answers. The trick is to be excited for them. That they are questioning the world and knowing things that interest them. (We don't get mad at a scientist for being smart in their expertise, those scientists were kids once!)

Like the other responses in this thread, by encouraging questions, I never felt like I was being interrogated when I made a bad choice (I personally didn't make many) because I could explain the reasoning behind it and talk about the reasoning why I chose that action, and what natural consequences might be waiting for me.

Another technique my parents employed was the voluntary 5 minute timeout. Anyone in my family at any moment when they felt upset or angry could announce that they needed a 5 minute break and then go get space to cool down.** (Yes even my parents did this at times, taking a 5 minute break) It was a respected thing, if you asked for space you got it. Sometimes the person would rejoin before the 5 minutes were up having cooled down, but after the 5 minutes people were allowed to check up on you and talk things through if things were wrong.

I can't tell you how useful it is to have an instant timeout button. It allows both parties the ability to recenter back to logic/reasoning if emotions run too high, and feel like you are never backed into a corner emotionally. You always have an out. You are praised/respected for understanding that your emotions might run high. Even with my anxiety I am not scared to ask for a break if I need it because it was modeled for me as a child.

Another one of my parents tricks: Using "I feel" statements. My mom pushed this especially, but the difference between 'you never do x!' (accusing, assuming things about the other person) and 'I feel like you never do x!' (communicating while showing your POV, gives the other person a chance to respond, overall less harsh) is a game changer. It focuses on empathizing with the person (letting them know your feelings and hopefully getting them to understand how you are seeing the world.)

*yes, all questions. I once asked my mom if 5 y/o me would have asked where baby's came from what she would tell me and she said she would literally did the 👉 👌 gesture with explanation of which sex had what body parts. I apparently never asked at that young though

**When I was really young, my parents would do the timeout thing as a 'hey, we see the rollercoaster of emotions is high, why don't you take a 5 minute break for space' and they would keep me in the same room but give me more space/or separate room with many checkups on me.

I am exceptionally lucky in that my parents never hit me, grounded me, confiscated my things, banned me from my hobbies or threatened any of these actions to make me behave as a kid. as an adult it has made me realise how very very long a road most people have to traverse before they can take a statement like 'no rule that must be enforced by threat is legitimate' seriously.

[wcnderlnds]

the heart wants what it wants | choi su-bong (thanos)

・❥・ summary: he hates himself but you kinda, sorta love him. ・❥・word count: 1.3k ・❥・warnings: usual squid game stuff, swearing. ・❥・ authors note: as if i was gonna leave my boy thanos out of valentines fics. here's something a lil fluffy while still (hopefully) in character for him.

“What’re you sitting there looking like someone just pissed in your cereal for? And don’t try and tell me it’s because of that last game or whatever because I know that’s bullshit.”

Thanos’ voice pierced through your ears as he sat down beside you on the steel stairs between the bunks. His arms rested on his knees, hands dangling between his open legs as he looked at you expectantly. That was Thanos down to a tee – he needed to know everything immediately, patience wasn’t his strong suit. It frustrated him when he didn’t get answers. You had known this man for far too long to know the signs. The way he was clenching his jaw, his fingers tapping against his leg. 

“...I don’t want to tell you because you’ll laugh at me,” you mumbled, head resting on your arms that were crossed over your pulled up knees.

“Come on, spit it out,” he waved his hand, dismissing your worries. “I probably will laugh but since when did that shit bother you?”

He was right. You never cared before so why now? Well, you knew why. Being trapped in this place with him had resurfaced something you had thought you’d got rid of a long time ago. When you had first met Su-bong, you had the world’s biggest crush on him but he had turned you down, telling you that you should just be friends so… that’s what you were. Now, eight years on and that all consuming crush was back. You were trapped in a life or death game with him, he’d been protecting you and making sure that no harm fell on you. His hand grabbed yours at any opportunity like he just had to be touching you to make sure you were still here. You had never seen so much panic in his eyes than the moment you had almost fell in Red Light, Green Light. Luckily, he had managed to grab your arm to stop you from meeting your end. Su-bong wasn’t someone that wore his heart on his sleeve but when he cared, he cared. That was one thing you were certain of; he cared about you. There were ways he showed it without saying it. Like now, he had come to sit with you, asking you what was going on even if it was in his own annoying way. He had to act like he didn’t care otherwise it would consume him, his anxiety would sky rocket. That was why he was popping those colourful little pills. They may make him act insane but inside they calmed him, made him think clearer so he could protect you.

“Fine,” you sighed. “...it’s Valentine’s Day and I’m just sad I’m stuck in here and not enjoying some chocolate covered strawberries fed to me by some super hot person. Happy now?”

Thanos couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, nudging you with his shoulder. “That’s why you’re feeling sorry for yourself?” He narrowed his eyes, examining you before he decided you weren’t telling him the full truth. A quick shuffle and he was sitting right beside you, his leg touching yours. His arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. It was unusually soft for him but he had these moments with you sometimes. The only person who wouldn’t judge him was you, that was something he knew for certain. “You ain’t tellin’ me the whole story so I’m gonna need you to get that pretty mouth of yours talking more before I go get Nam-su to come glare at you with those beady little eyes of his.”

“You know his name is Nam-gyu, right?” You rested your head on his shoulder, nervously wringing your hands together. Thanos noticed almost immediately, placing a hand on them to stop you. “Remember when we first met? When… uh, when I had a crush on you and your turned me down?”

“Yeah, how could I forget?”

“Well, I might be feeling that way again.”

At those words, he froze up. His body tense, panic flashing across his eyes. Yeah, you shouldn’t have said anything. He would only close himself off now and that was the last thing you needed right now. He had been your whole support system here. The silence between you was almost deafening until he finally spoke. “...you shouldn’t.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Wish it was that easy, Su-bong.”

“You wanna know why I turned you down all those years ago?” He had pulled away from you slightly, both his hands now resting on your shoulders as he made you look at him. “Because you fuckin’ deserve better than me. I’m a mess. I’ve always been a mess. I’m no good, especially not for you. Someone like you? You deserve the fuckin’ world and I can’t give you that. I wish I could but I can’t. You need someone who can treat you like the princess you are but, baby, that man ain’t me.”

If it wasn’t anyone else, they wouldn’t have caught the waver in his voice, the way he was looking at you as if pleading for you to listen to him. He meant every word he said but you didn’t. You knew he often got lost in his self loathing thoughts, thinking that he was scum of the Earth but he wasn’t. He was just a lost boy, someone had never had someone care about him like you.

“I don’t care, Su-bong. My heart knows what it wants and it wants you. It isn’t going to stop. It’s been eight years and it’s always felt this way. You are everything to me, you always have been. I wish you could see in yourself what I see in you,” your hand cupped his cheek, the gesture so soft he almost nuzzled into your palm but refrained. “Sure, you’re not perfect but neither am I. I’ll respect whatever you want but… just know that my heart belongs to you.”

His eyebrows scrunched together as if he was in deep thought, one of his hands playing with the chain of the necklace that hung around his neck. His cross; the one that contained his drugs. It looked like he was in an internal conflict with himself before, finally, he pulled the necklace over his head and onto you. You felt your heart pounding as his fingers skimmed across your chest, making sure the cross laid properly. “You’re a damn pain in my ass, you know that? But… I’ve been into you the day we met, just thought you deserved more than I can give you. So, this is my promise to you to show you that I trust you, that maybe I’ll try and be the person you deserve some day. Ain’t never let anyone wear this other than me, by the way.”

The gesture meant more to you than you could even put into words, your heart hammering against your chest as he tapped the cross. You smiled up at him, hand resting over his. “The highest honour, huh?” You couldn’t help but tease to at least ease some of the tension. “It means a lot… and Su-bong? I believe in you.”

You heard the small, breathy laugh that came from his lips as he looked at the ground trying to hide it. That meant more to him than you would know. Finally, he looked back up at you, his arm back around your shoulder to pull you back into his side. “We get out of this shithole and I’ll feed you all the damn chocolate strawberries you want.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

As you rested your head on his shoulder, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on yours, you knew that once you got out of here things were definitely going to change but it gave you something to look forward to. His promise the one thing that would get you through these deathly games.

taglist (ask to be added!): @ldydeath @justsisse @djarindroid @angelofbooksworld @taivantaylor @sherlocke3d @basquiat-top @urmomsg1rlfreind @belladonna-303 @seunghyunwifey @infinetlyforgotten

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

On the subject of the period tracker meme in TWST…how do you think the guys would react, Miss Raven? Like what do you think their login lines would be or how would they react to you being on your period? Sorry if this is overstepping, in that case then please ignore. Don’t want to make you uncomfortable if this isn’t something you want to talk about.

[Referencing this post!]

I’m going to include Grim, the Ramshackle Ghosts, NRC staff, RSA boys, and Halloweenies here too because why not 😂 And these are going to be my general thoughts, since I think login lines are too short to capture the nuances of what I’m trying to explain! This is unironically some of my best work yet—

***Note: This is going off the assumption that Yuu has a platonic relationship with the characters (ie no romantic implications), similar to what is established in the actual login lines. I will also be assuming gender neutral pronouns for the reader, but there may be references to other menstruators that are women (such as characters' family members).***

Curiouser and Curiouser...

NRC Students

Riddle has the technical knowledge, but struggles to apply that knowledge when the situation demands it. H-He has never had to do this before! Riddle has his anatomy and physiology textbook out and reads directly from it as he tries to figure out how to best help you, double and triple checking the directions before handing you any medication or even a heating pad. Stiffly offers you tea and pours it for you himself. Offers to bring you any classwork you miss, plus homework. Being on your period is no excuse to not keep up with your lessons!

Trey goes into big brother/dad mode. Dotes on you. Bakes you cookies, pies, tarts, cakes, etc. to feed the munchies while you’re bleeding out. His food is also warm and comforting, like a hug. What are your favorites? Tell him, he’ll prepare them. Asks every other hour how you’re feeling or if you need anything. Gives an awkward laugh if you get into the particulars of periods. He’d rather not, he’s just here to make sure you’re okay.

Cater has tons of experience dealing with this kind of thing. When his older sisters were on their periods, they’d whine for him to go out and buy stuff for them—pads, snacks, OTC pain relief meds, you name it, Cay-kun bought it! He knows exactly what you need, so just leave it to him, okay~? Besides, he can’t just leave you hanging like this… even if you do look kinda cute and pathetic writhing like that!

Ace, UGH 💀 Quintessential teenage boy. No clue what a period is, doesn’t understand why you’re in pain—but claims that he, in fact, does know because (ah-HEM!) he actually has mad game and plenty of experience with women!! (He doesn’t.) Calls you while he’s at the Mystery Shop to ask for what pussy size you wear.

Deuce is in a similar boat as Ace. He kind of sort of knows what a period is but didn’t ever think about the particulars. Not the sharpest tool in the shed, can you blame him? Deuce hits the books to learn more about the subject (it’s what an honors student would do, right?) but is horrified to learn you’re “ovulating”. “D-Does that mean you’re going to lay an egg?! Are you secretly a chicken, Prefect?!” Tries to be polite and understanding about it, but comes off as awkward instead.

Leona has the tact to not openly remark on a woman’s time of month. He just kind of makes an unreadable expression and quickly looks away before you get any strange ideas. When he catches you alone, he makes some haughty remark that insinuates that he knows—and as you’re blanching with embarrassment, he (to your shock) casually tosses a bag of period supplies at your feet. There’s everything you could possible need in there!! You glance up, about to thank him, but Leona’s already sauntering away and waving a hand dismissively. “Don’t say I never do anything for ya, herbivore.” Now he’s off to nap peacefully—and, hopefully, you can too.

Ruggie just shrugs. It’s not really any of his business, now is it? The more time he spends loitering around here and lookin’ after you, the less time he’s spending making money at his part/time jobs! “Sheesh, looks like you’ve got it rough~ Glad I’m not you. I’d still have to work my tail off, bleedin’ or not!” Maybe if he’s feeling generous, he’ll save you some free food from whatever he can salvage from work. Want him to grab you something on the way over? Pay him for his time and effort!

Jack smells the blood at first and worries that you’re injured (n-not that he cares or anything). Once he realizes what that smell is, he’ll apologize and will make things right by dedicating himself to supporting you! Dutifully trails after you like a duckling that imprinted on the first thing he saw when he hatched. Quick to rush in and do things even when not asked to. Is okay with even carrying you around if need be—it’s a good workout for him, so it’s a win-win!

Azul shows up “randomly” with a care package he “just so happens” to have on him. Dramatically offers you the care package and thanks you for “taking it off of his hands”. Not-so-subtly also implies he can whip up elixirs that are effective at numbing period pain, or perhaps you'd prefer a massage from his strong octopus arms?—for a price, of course. He studied up on human physiology and had Jade snoop around for details on your cycle; this was all orchestrated well in advance and Azul intends on collecting on this favor at a later point in time. Does a smug little evil chuckle to himself as he walks away.

Oh, Jade knows. (See Azul’s section above.) He acts as though he doesn’t though. For example, he’ll hold something you need out of reach just to watch you squirm and struggle in discomfort to obtain it. Once you cast aside your pride and confess what’s going on, Jade will feign surprise and apologize. Brews you a relaxing mushroom tea to help with the cramps. Kindly offers his services, acts like the perfect, sweetest, most attentive butler you could ever ask for. (… Though you have unfortunately made the mistake of letting Jade into your quarters. He’s just waiting for you to doze off so he can rifle through your things and collect dirt.)

Floyd thinks it’s hilarious. Human bodies are so weird! You bleed every month? Hah, sure must suck. He’s so glad he doesn’t have to deal with that. Pesters you with a bunch of questions about how periods work. Asks if a band-aid is enough to deal with it. Laughs when you double over and coos about the poor Shrimpy. If he’s in the mood, he’ll give ya a lift—but it’s a bumpy ride, and he’ll attempt to parkour with you on him. Might cook you up some good grub too. It’s a gamble—are you willing to try your luck?

Kalim hears you’re bleeding and has a mild freakout about it. Hires the best medical team money can buy to examine you and to make sure you’re okay. Relieved to learn it’s just a period. “Hey, so… I’m glad you’re alright and all, but what’s a period?” he asks. Listens to you talk about it, but concludes he still doesn’t understand the intricacies. Gets the gist that you’re in pain once a month and resolves to totally pamper you for that week or so. Provides Oasis Maker water too--it's so refreshing! Whatever you want, just say the word and it’s yours! You’ll have nothing to worry about :)) Kalim’s sure Jamil won’t say no to lending you a helping hand too he’s being voluntold to.

Jamil is used to this drama/j from Najma. Very calm about the whole ordeal. Hovers and tuts like a mother hen, but more quietly judgy. Prepares delicious home cooked meals and pain relief remedies, fetches items + runs errands for you. Makes sure you’re comfortable. Even offers to plump your pillows. Basically feels obligated to do this on behalf of Kalim; wishes he were doing something else, but hey… this is preferable to having to deal with frantic last minute party preparations.

Vil is very mature and no-nonsense about it. Please, only a child would behave crudely over a woman’s natural bodily processes. He recommends vitamins and yoga stretches for alleviating cramps and to reduce bloating. Blends you nutritious smoothies and plans balanced meals to keep your energy up. Vil also prepares essential oils to help you relax. Here’s a diffuser for your room, and he has these bottles of fragrance you can dab on your temples and wrists.

You don’t even need to say anything. Rook gives you That Look (TM) that tells you immediately that he knows what’s up. Probably knows your period is coming like a week in advance of it actually arriving. Unexplained period supplies show up on your doorstep. There’s a note and a rose with them. Someone has written you a lengthy poem about how the “crimson petals” are “peeling away from thine flower”, so please accept these items and take care of yourself! The supplies replenish themselves whenever you’re just about to run out, too. Rook knows you’d probably prefer your privacy for these matters—he wouldn’t want to make you feel self-conscious! … So he makes sure to make himself discreet when he hides in your walls to watch over you and ensures you’re comfortable.

Whoa, you bleed every month? That’s METAL!! Epel has heard about periods from the elderly ladies in Harveston. The way they talk about it, it’s like they survived a war!! That must make your gut super tough…! It earns you his respect. He looks at you like you’re some kind of VIP. Epel gifts you a bright red apple every day, saying that it will keep the doctor away. Offers to rush by on a (borrowed from Ignihyde) magiwheel/blastcycle to drop off anything you may need.

Idia blue screens and keyboard smashes in a panic. It’s already hard enough for him to interact with people face-to-face but now you have to go and drop this bombshell on him?! How’s an otaku to cope?! Sends you memes and funny videos via a messaging app. Can’t be bothered with going in-person. Might send candies or ramen cups via a drone. You can’t see how alarmed he is whenever he sends you a new text. Not because he’s worried, but because the idea of a period grosses him out. Why are organic beings so unhygienic?? Machines are so much cleaner and more efficient!!

Ortho rattles off facts about your cycle based on the data he has collected. Basically a living period tracker. (It’s scary how much he knows about your health.) Has a list of light exercises, relaxation techniques, and OTC medications loaded to fire off at you. Also advises you eat each iron, fiber, and protein-rich foods to restock on the nutrients you lost from shedding your uterine lining. Remember to hydrate too! Ortho’s just trying to be helpful!

Malleus is familiar with Briar Valley politics, not bodily functions. Ever curious, he listens to your explanation of periods, staring and nodding slightly all the while. Comes to the conclusion that the child of man is suffering immensely and that it is his noble duty as a Draconia to look after the less fortunate. Proceeds to breathe a line of fire to “gently warm you up”. Then attempts electrical stimulation, which brings about a massive lightning storm that has you dodging, rolling, and sprinting to avoid being hit. Malleus dials it back when he realizes his attempts aren’t that helpful. Sulks about it until you tell him you really appreciate the attempt, but just good food and good company is enough for you. He’s able to provide, using magic to make the cutlery dance and to float over some delicious-looking dishes. Sits across from you and says he will keep you company for as long as you may need.

Lilia is oddly very knowledgeable about periods (you figure 700 years of living and a few hundred years of travel must count for something). Unfortunately, he refers to periods as “the peak of one’s fertility” just to mess with you. Keeps you company while you’re in pain and grabs whatever you need, no questions asked. Tells you about how women "back then" managed their periods with cloth rags, cotton, and even animal fur or dried toads. Peasant women had to go without, as they couldn't afford cloth. Endless stories and songs, sometimes exposited to you while Lilia hangs upside down from the ceiling. Do not, however, eat anything he tries to feed you, even if he claims they are "time-tested herbal remedies"! One time he suggested acupuncture or acupressure--techniques he learned of from the east--for period pain cramps. You turned down that idea, which he said was "a shame", as he had been meaning to try it out.

Silver notices you’ve been looking tired and a little out of it lately. Asks if he can touch you, then proceeds to pat you down in various spots…?! He nods and announces you he feels you have a lot of tension in your body, so you should exercise to relieve yourself of it. (You think about letting him know what’s up, but you’d feel bad for “tarnishing” his pure mind.) Invites you to join him for his daily training. Is kind enough to stop and wait for you to catch up or to adjust the exercise to make it more doable for you. Plenty of breaks to drink water and to catch your breath. His animal buddies sometimes bring nuts and berries as snacks or flowers, which you press to your nose to recharge. You and Silver rest in the shade of a tree and end up napping the day away.

Despite coming from a household with two women and even reading some books on growing up, Sebek is still quite bashful and skittish on the subject of periods. He thinks of it as something weirdly intimate but will never confess that to you. Sebek instead shouts very loudly that “mere menstruation” is “no excuse” to not get up and work hard!! Why, he’s had to endure much more hellish training under Lilia-sama’s tutelage!! … You have him to thank for everyone in the school knowing when it’s that time of month for you. (He gets bonked on the head by Lilia and Silver and is told to apologize, which he does so very quietly.) Hands you a book about menstruation and tells you to study up.

Grim has no concept for what a period is. Acts all cool about it though and promises he’ll take the best care of his minion!! He proceeds to struggle using a can opener to crack open a tuna can (it’s your lunch). Spends the rest of the day acting as a heating pad and weighted blanket over your stomach region. Surprisingly very effective.

NRC Staff + Ramshackle

Crowley smiles and wishes you well—but he keeps taking progressive steps back as he talks, almost like he’s hoping to wander off without you noticing. The man is on a tangent about the weather and changes the subject every time you try to bring it back to your period. What? You say he’s dodging his responsibility to look after his students? N-Nonsense! This is a matter for the school nurse, not the headmaster! You want a magic lift to the infirmary? Oh, would you look at the time! Crowley has a very important meeting to go to. You’d better be on your way to the infirmary then, hmm? Toodles, and best of luck!

Crewel is similar to Vil, aware and mature about how to deal with it periods in his own way. Has a spare pair of pants and a sweater on standby for you change into or to wear over stained bottoms. Gives tips on how to wash period blood out of various fabrics so they don't stain. Cold water, hand wash, air dry! Commands Grim to be a good boy and take responsibility for his partner. "Tend to their every need until they are at full health again. Am I understood?!" Tells you to take it easy, you won't perform at your best in your current condition--but he still expects your homework to be in tomorrow! Willing to grant an extension if needed.

Trein thankfully already went through this crisis when his daughters had theirs for the first time, so he knows just what to do now. Refrains from assigning detention for lateness and lack of attentiveness; lets you off with a very sternly worded warning. (Lucius makes himself comfortable in your lap during the lecture.) Trein discreetly passes along some pads after the other students have filtered out of class. Offers tea and light sandwiches in the teacher’s lounge. Lets you know you can come to him if the boys are being mean to you. He’ll give them a good scolding! After all, upstanding gentlemen shouldn’t engage in such behaviors.

Vargas recommends that you join him for exercising. Physical activity can help reduce period cramps, so up and at’m, champ!! Have you tried having a few dozen eggs? Protein can do wonders for the body! Here, he’ll prepare them for you in a raw egg smoothie!

With big ol’ grin, Sam cheerily advertises his wares. He’s got all the feminine hygiene products you could ask for, any snack you could want, OTC medications of choice, IN STOCK NOW!! The Mystery Shock also offers delivery for an extra little fee if you’d like to save yourself some time (and your body some effort).

The Ramshackle Ghosts are old and dead, so they're... let's just say not that well acquainted with bodily functions. They understand that you're in a tough spot though, so they'll step up unlike Crowley to ensure you're okay! They'll do your shopping, float over to the main building to fetch any work you miss, and grab grub for you from the ghost chefs in the cafeteria. Anything Crowley asks you to do, the Ramshackle Ghosts will do in your place. They even sew together some old curtains and couch stuffing to make a pillow for you to rest on. Randomly poke their heads through the walls to check on you.

RSA Students

Chenya’s eyes keep wandering, and he’s humming some tune or saying something cryptic about the color red. It doesn’t sound like he’s really listening to you, but no—he’s actually been listening well this entire time. Here, chew on this unidentified plant he picked up! It’ll help mellow you out and reduce the pain. Trust him, he learned this from his grandpa! And once you’re nice ‘n cozy…! Nyah! You won’t mind if he settles in for a little catnap beside ya, would you?

Neige frets for your health (it’s no good to lose blood) and, with a kind smile, tells you to please relax! He’ll take care of all your chores for the time being. Neige gracefully tackles the cleaning, cooking, and other housework. He somehow manages to get it done despite also balancing school and his celeb gigs, and never seems to be bothered by it. Sings you lullabies to help soothe you.

The Seven Dwarves do a a group huddle (Dominic leading) and debate about what they should do to help you. They try making music, preparing porridge, and offering you shiny rocks they found on the ground. Once they also picked flowers and swarmed your bed with them, as if they’re mourners at a funeral procession. They’re small gestures, but you figure it’s the thought that counts… right? 💦

Halloweenies (Halloween Event Characters)

Rollo frowns. Deeply. He does not understand why you’re telling him about this. “You ought to be keeping such sensitive health information to yourself”, he chastises you. Keeps his handkerchief pressed over his nose and looks the most disgusted and repulsed you've ever seen this man (save for when he's doomposting about Malleus Draconia). Might give you a croissant or some meds out of pity, but hands it over with his full arm extended to maximize the distance he has to stand away from you, or just leaves the items on a table and tells you to come fetch them. Says he will "pray for you."

Fellow never got a formal education, so what he knows about periods is limited to what he hears through the grapevine (ie various women he has conned). He’s aware it involves bleeding from… down there—he can smell it—but has no clue how to handle it. Has too much pride to confess to the truth. Acts like he knows what he’s talking about by playing up being a doctor. Has Gidel scribble in a notepad as if it is your patient chart while Fellow reads off your symptoms and gives you a random diagnosis he made up on the spot. Hands you an apple he finished eating (there’s only the core left) and pats you on the head, telling you you’ll be juuust fine~!

Gidel is too young to know what a period is. All he understands is that you seem to be in great pain, and he feels bad seeing you like this 💦 He sees you clutching your stomach or lying in bed; is it maybe a tummyache? Gidel offers you half of his loaf of bread. He gets tummy grumblies on an empty stomach too, so he knows what that’s like! Tries to do silly things like making funny faces and dancing to cheer you up.

Skully does not know what a period is. (I’M SORRY, bro lived like hundreds of years ago; am I supposed to believe they had pads back then, let alone menstrual cycle education for men???) He’ll listen to you explain, but his face gets paler and paler as you continue. Makes a shocked, wide-eyed expression, hands on his cheeks. A “why would God do this to women” look. Looks slightly faint after the fact, but offers to assist you with whatever you need; simply call for him, and this gentleman will come running!

[pricesprincess]

Oooh may I ask for a John and Wife!Reader roleplay?? I feel like it's something he would try out to spice up their sex life with the Missus! Like he'd be kind of reluctant about it until he sees how into it Reader is heheh 👀

-✨️(if this emoji isn't taken)

smut mdni | explicit smut | alcohol but no one is drunk or even tipsy | roleplay

yes, yes, yes you may! I kinda went off on this with 2.5k wc eta I kinda went off script, was typing and blacked out to this lmaooo

"We went to a hotel and pretended not to know each other. It was a lot of fun." The actress on the flickering screen in front of John spoke as she ran her manicured fingers through her husband's hair. 

John huffed slightly, the cigar being squished between his fingers as he listened to the rest of the interview of a few dark romance authors you read from. 

They were doing Q&A's for their fans, and this one was all about roleplay, something new for you both to try out. Lately, it's been nothing but missionary, and the sex has gone stale as much as he hated to admit it, his job and duties kept him exhausted. 

It wasn't something John was proud to admit, knowing you weren't happy; it left a bitter taste in his throat as he clicked through a few more videos, gathering ideas to help the flickering dying flame. 

Most of your orgasms were self-given at this point, late at night when John was gone during a mission, which seems to be happening more and more, leaving you alone to take care of the house and yourself. 

A few days later, with his plan set in stone, the dinner table had been set with candles and takeout from your favorite place because the burnt food was now outside in the garbage with a single rose surrounded by rose petals in the middle. He wondered if this was too much, trying too hard, but he wanted you to feel loved. 

Your key slid into the lock before you pushed open the door, thankful that John was home and, this time, hopefully for a long time, his presence made the house a home, and the warmth from the furnace made you shiver as you slipped your coat and shoes off. "I'm home!" 

John stepped into the entryway, his face flushed, and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He opened his arms, letting you fall into them with a giggle while you peppered his face with soft, sweet honey kisses. 

"I missed you so much!" You squealed and wrapped your arms around him, seeing the candles flickering in the small kitchen casting shadows across the wall that piqued your interest. "John?" 

He smiled, staying silent as he gently guided you to the dining room table you two grabbed at an estate sale a year ago before buying your shared home. Now, it's held so many memories, grooved into the wood you'd forever cherish. "Did you do something wrong?" 

Even though your voice was teasing, John's stomach churned with guilt as he pulled your chair back. He held your hand and gently kissed you, helping you sink down as you looked up at him. 

"Not' taking care of my wife," John replied, the sentence enough to make you pause, your hand hovering about the wine glass. 

You frowned, tilting your head up to look at your husband, taking his hand in yours, brushing your thumb across his coarse knuckles. "Why do you say that baby? You take real good care of me." You hummed. 

His lips twitched as he took the chair from across you, plating the food. "Haven't made you giggle or laugh in a while, haven't been home to be here like a man should, and I haven't made you cum." 

Oh. 

Your hand covered his as you looked at him, the candle flickering over your face as you cocked your head. "You've been super busy. I knew what I signed up for when I married you, honey. I don't hold it against you. Do I wish you were home more often? Yes, you're my man." 

"You're my man." Those words echoed through his head, and at that moment, it was decided that he was going to be where he belonged, but tonight wasn't about that. It was about making you feel good. 

Dinner happened with a soft hum of conversation as you ended up nestled on John's lap, your thighs draped over his as you fed each other in between slow kisses that made your toes curl. 

John's hands roamed your body, his rough palms bunching the sundress you wore to your hips. "Tomorrow night, we got plans. Come home after work." He hummed in your ear, kissing it. Once dinner was over, you and John fell into bed, naked and warm, curled together. 

Your husband's words played through your head all morning as you woke up to do your morning routine, your legs still wobbly from the way John had you bouncing on his dick like his personal toy. 

It only made you flustered, and the workday felt like forever, especially with John's teasing texts about what he had planned for the evening ahead. when the clock hit five, you zoomed from the building to your car as fast as possible. 

Excitement bubbled in your veins as you drove home. The streets were dim, and the moon brightened over the small town you and John had settled in. The porch light was dim as you pulled the car into the driveway. 

John was in the bedroom when you entered after slipping your shoes off; the grin on your face was infectious as John matched it, his hand sweeping to the bed where a dress lay, paired with your shoes. 

Your eyes drifted to the mattress to see it was the same dress you wore on your first date, a beautiful color that made your skin glow, but John did it. "What's this all for?" You asked curiously with a grin. 

"Our date, told you luv. Tonight, it's goin' to be different. We're not husband and wife, but a man in need of a pretty woman's cunt." 

His vulgar words made your jaw drop as your cunt ached, throbbing to be filled like last night, the memories making you shift in your spot as you looked at him, dressed in jeans and a button-up, the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, making him look like a snack. 

Without realizing it, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him in a heated his; his hand rested on the globes of your ass, giving it a squeeze. "So, we're strangers?" You asked, leaning back with a sly smile as you giggled softly. 

John held you as you swayed back and forth, your fingers locked behind his neck. "Yes, ma'am. You'll be sittin' at the bar alone, where I come and save you from bein' stood up. Your safeword is the same." 

The way he looked at you made your stomach flutter. Even years after being married, John had this way of making you feel the same as he did on the first date, giddy like a schoolgirl with her first crush. 

"I'll need the sadness slurped from my pussy." You teased, making him shake his head and chuckle, the sound like music to your ears. 

Once ready, John guided you to his car, opened the door, and kissed your head. Inside, you held his hand, buzzing with excitement. 

“We’re pretendin’ we don’t know each other, somethin’ new and fun,” John murmured, his voice warm like whiskey simmering in your veins, making you flush as you giggled, squeezing his hand agreeing. 

Then it hit you: John skimmed your books, which made a lot of sense when you noticed that a few were out of place months before he was deployed. “You read my smut books, didn’t you?” You teased. 

Your husband looked at you with a wink that melted you like butter in a hot pan, screaming and burning as your eagerness filled the vehicle's cabin, putting John on edge. This was something new and way out of his realm, but seeing you happy about it eased the growing tension in his chest. 

The tire crunched over gravel as he pulled into the parking lot, breaking the silence. 

John was out of the car, opening your door before you could grab the handle, his hand warm and calloused in yours as he helped you out. His other palm rested on your hip. "I'll be inside in five, luv, be a good girl and wait for me." He hummed, leaning in to kiss you, soft, tender. 

You pulled away, resting your hand on his chest and looking at him with all the affection in the world swirling in your eyes. You pecked his lips and glided your hand over his pecs before walking inside. 

Thankfully, the bar wasn't too busy, seeing that it was a Thursday night, giving you most of the bar to yourself and John, who came in through the back door, his eyes scanning the small, cozy space. 

People left you be while you ordered a glass of wine, something sweet that exploded on your taste buds, trying not to watch John from the corner of your eyes even though you could feel him staring. 

It burned a hole in you, melting straight to between your legs, your clit throbbing already. You kept your posture sad and hunched, remembering that the reason you were here was being stood up. 

Two minutes later, John was perched on the barstool next to you. His drink was already ordered when his eyes shifted to you, filled with mock concern. “What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ here all alone?”

You turned and looked at him. The instant your eyes locked, it was over. You gigglingly covered your mouth and shook your head. “Sorry. I don’t know if I can do this; you’re so…you.” You hummed.

John shook his head, his lips twitching with a smile. “Darlin’, what the hell am I supposed to do with you? And what’s that supposed to mean?” He teased, wrapping his arm around your waist when you nuzzled your forehead against his pecking his lips.

“You’re my soulmate, my man; I can’t pretend not to know you when I was riding you like a cowgirl just last night, and we’ve shared so much. It was a hot idea, but I want you as my husband.” You sighed, running your fingers through his brown roots, tugging gently. 

A deep groan rumbled through his chest, feeling your tongue glide into his mouth, tasting and licking the bourbon he ordered and sipped on.

The deep longing carved out a place in his soul, healing the cracks in him. John’s hand bunched the fabric of your dress around your waist, pulling you off the barstool and against him, leaving no room to mistake the feel the desire he felt, the hard poke against your thigh. 

Hand in hand again, John led you from the bar and outside into the cool summer breeze, your giggles breaking up the sounds of a few cars passing by while you opened the back door and guided him to the backseat slapping his ass and hearing him grunt.

John settled on the cool leather, spreading his legs as he helped you join him. He sat on his lap and leaned back while you shut the door, sealing both of you off from everyone. “You’re so handsome, so sexy.”

Your words were laced with affection and desire as your hands roamed his body, running over the soft pudge of his stomach softened by homecooked meals made with love and your spoiling. 

While you touched him, he returned the same favor, his fingers grazing under your dress, teasing, making your skin breakout in goosebumps while you humped him, grinding your cunt against him. 

The car was filled with heavy breathing and teeth-clacking kissing as your hips worked harder until John slid his hand into your panties, feeling how wet and slick you were, his fingers gliding against the lips of your cunt, making him groan again. “Fuck, sweetheart. Drippin’ for me.”

While leaning back, John sunk two thick fingers inside you with a squelch that was music to his ears; pumping them in and out at a slow pace had you feral, the teasing of his thumb against your clit ghosting.

He knew what he was doing, barely giving in until he was pressing against your g-spot, pressing his thumb down with circles, making you clench and hump his fingers this time, your hands resting on his shoulders, moaning, getting lost in the haze of it all but the flash of car lights pulling into the parking lot had you gripping his wrist.

“John!” You giggled and whined when he pulled his fingers out, his dark eyes watching as you sucked yourself off him before moving out of the backseat fixing your dress, and getting into the passenger. 

It didn’t take long for your husband to join you, his cock still hard and straining painfully against his zipper. He pressed on the gas, pulled out of the lot to drive home as quickly as possible, and John helped you out of the car, holding your hand while leading you inside. 

You both barely made it past the door before John had you pressed against the wall, his lips desperate and hungry while his hands tore at your dress until it pooled around your heeled feet. Your touch was hot, scorching against his skin as you undressed him not breaking the kiss. 

All tongue and hands, you and John ended up on the floor naked and warm, tangled together. His cock rutted against your hip as he helped you to a position of sixty-nine with you on top, still wearing your shoes. 

John didn’t give you any time to do anything before his hands were on your hips, bringing you down on his face, fully knowing he’d die a happy man if this were his last meal. Slowly, he licked a hot swipe up your cunt from your quivering hole to your swollen clit, flicking and sucking.

Your jaw went slack at the feeling as your fingers wrapped around the base of his cock before your mouth was wrapped around his leaky head, going further until you gagged, feeling the curly and hoarse hair tickling before you found a slow and teasing pace. 

It was a mess of spit and slick as you bobbed your head feeling his tongue swirl over your clit before kissing your pussy that drenched his face and beard leaving it glistening like his sack from your salvia. 

Moaning around him, the sound vibrating around his cock, making him grip your ass, forcing you to ride his face harder until your orgasm burst open, making you squeal and gag on his cock, jerking your hips. 

But that didn’t stop John; his tongue was relentless in making out with your cunt making it sticky and prolonging the cloud of pleasure. It spurred you to make him a mess, too; your tongue lavished each inch of him, spitting and jerking him off, moaning and grinding down. 

There was nothing but panting and sucking that filled the small entryway of your shared home when John felt himself tighten before spilling down your throat, making sure you swallowed all of it. 

After a long moment of sitting there with his cock still in your mouth, feeling it soften, you finally rolled off him stretching your legs with a whine. “I think we need to start stretching before sex.” You giggled. 

John chuckled, his face a mess of your cum glazing his lips. He rolled to his side, caressing your curves, lingering over your breasts, his face ruddy with the afterglow. “We’re not done yet, but you’re right, darlin’. We must stretch and move to the bed; my back is achin’.”

[writingwisterias]

All of me for All of you

DI!Leon Kennedy x AFAB! Fem! Reader Warnings: SMUT, MNDI, Fluff, Friends - Lovers, Insecurities, Oral (F- receiving), Praise Kink, Slight Breeding kink ;), Unprotected sex, Summary: He was always the best at surprising you Words: 2.8k Happy valentines day! I know I said it would be a drabble but I'm starting to think I don't actually know what the word is. Stay safe tonight if you do have plans! and hope you all have fun ;))

It was probably better for you that he cancelled instead of waiting in the restaurant for the dickhead to show up with some cheap chocolates and dying flowers in exchange for sex. Dating was hard enough these days, with all of the apps being used for a quick fuck instead of a meaningful connection. Did that not matter to anyone anymore? The idea of a relationship with someone who felt like your best friend seemed like a distant dream at this point. 

Instead, tonight you were sitting in your apartment with a glass of wine and some expensive chocolate you treated yourself to. It just always felt so sad spending the one holiday that is meant for people to declare their love to each other like this. To make matters worse you were the only one alone today, you couldn’t even have a galentines day since their dates didn’t decide to cancel. The only person you knew that was free was Leon. A recent edition in your life after joining his workplace. Your relationship progressed quickly into best friend status as your skills worked well together, trusting each other almost immediately. Humor even more so. 

The ideal couple if the office had anything to do with it. You wouldn’t be yourself by ignoring the blossoming crush you had on him. After all he was the office heart throb there were many others that felt the same. Yet, with his lack of text today you assumed he was slumped in some bar or busy on a mission. Too busy to deal with you stewing in your self worth. 

The rom-com playing in the background did nothing to improve your mood, only adding to the sense of loneliness that suffocated your brain. You hadn’t realised how sad it felt being alone when there were so many people booking up the restaurant spaces. To make a bad evening worse you couldn’t even get a takeaway dinner because of all ‘Love day’ deals. 

Leon however had remembered the brief comment you made yesterday about the date cancellation. The backpack he was wearing was full of dinner supplies, wanting to make sure that at least you had something to make you feel better. Did he have a date because you had one? Yes. Did he cancel it because yours was cancelled? Also yes. 

Perhaps this is just the life of someone smitten. It took him a while to even gather the courage to ask you on a date, spending days calculating every moment of it so he could finally admit how he felt only for you to crush it by showing a picture of sir dickhead. His plans ruined and replaced with some woman he found that same night at least then he wouldn’t be alone he thought. Hopefully you’ll settle for some homemade pizzas as the poor guy couldn’t even get the shop bought ones in the frozen section. 

The knock at your door surprised you more than anything, scrambling the mountain of blankets you had on the sofa for your phone in case you missed a text. He could hear your feet thudding to the door. Leon stood in the doorway, rocking on his feet as you turned each lock but the nerves settled quickly when he caught a look at your adorable face. You were wrapped in a blanket, hair down and messy, the house highlighted by the soft glow of the fairy light he helped hang up a few weeks ago. It felt like you, a ball of warmth. 

“Happy valentines day?” He chuckled holding out the squashed flowers from where they were crushed in his backpack along with a squashed box of chocolates. He grinned as the confusion on your face was slowly wiped into a happy expression. The corners of your mouth twinging upwards slightly until it finally broke into a fill on grin. “Leon, what are you doing here? I thought you had a date or something?” You questioned, stepping aside anyway to allow him to enter. He placed the flowers and chocolate on the table, his jacket finding the spot you reserved for it on the hanger by the door. “It..uh…got cancelled? Anyway, no point in us being lonely” He spoke. 

The backpack landed on the table with a thud before he started to unpack it. Various pizza toppings, bags of many types of cheeses. “What is all this?” You asked, picking up a few items trying to correlate his plan. “Well I tried to pick up some pizzas but there wasn’t any. It might be fun to try and make our own, I thought” 

You could have melted in a puddle right there and then you swore as you turned to look at him. The smile he wore was genuine for a change not the forced one he often used around the office or when the team went out for drinks. He really wanted to be here with you tonight, even going as far as to conjure up a last minute plan. So with a large grin you turned to face him, rolling up the sleeves of your pjs “Guess we better get cooking I’m starving” 

Music slowly filled the kitchen, flour covering every surface as well as each other as you both shaped your pizza bases. “We should do hearts, to keep in theme” You suggested as you started to create the arches perfectly. Leon nodded, giving an attempt himself laughing at the mess. “At least we will tell each others apart,” He joked. Whilst he lacked the artist approach that yours did it was still endearing anyway, it gave it character. “I can see the attempt” You giggled, resting your chin on his shoulder as you looked at it. Leon’s breath faltered – he hadn’t expected the night to turn so domestic, to feel like a relationship with you was something he always missed. It fuels the determination inside him to correct it to ensure that no matter what he succeeds.

“Yeah well yours was always going to be perfect, everything you do is” He spoke, catching your eye briefly before turning to look at the pizza creation he was working on. It was a prime opportunity to wrap your arms around him, hold him close and just feel his warmth seep into your bones. You didn’t though; instead you reluctantly peeled away moving towards the oven to begin cooking them. It felt like time had slowed as you both waited, sitting on the counters opposite each other whilst the pizzas baked in between you too. “So how come your date cancelled on you then?” You asked him, legs thumping on the cabinets as you swung them. 

Leon shrugged he wasn’t sure if was ready yet to admit the truth, the real reason why he was here. He was currently enjoying the atmosphere. He spent time with you often breaking his rule of allowing people close, letting them worm their way into his closed off world in case they got hurt. You didn't even need to try. You just did it, made him crumble and falter; gave him an adrenaline rush of something that wasn’t fighting death. “Rather be here instead anyway” He stated. You believed him, the look in his eye told you he was content. Happy even. The beeper on the oven interrupted your own admittance, cutting the tension you had both created before it was too late. You didn’t want to ruin this. 

“How come I have the shit blanket?” He grumbled as you both curled on the sofa, the pizzas cut and ready on plates in your lap. He was letting you choose the movie today, after all he chose the last one a few weeks ago. “Because this one is my favorite” You stated eyes glued onto the screen. You were both a respectful distance away, curled up in either corner of the sofa, your legs touching slightly as you sprawled out at a diagonal. You had managed to find a cheap candle, lighting them around the tv which added to the warmth of the room. It was the perfect night in. “I like that one as well though” He whined. You knew he did, he stole it every time you got up to the bathroom, used it when he slept on your couch. It smelt like him every time he left; that's why it was your favourite. 

“Cry about it. I could have not given you one” 

It was true he supposed, he could have been left to the cold. His body moved before he thought logically about it, sliding across the couch holding his pizza carefully. Worming his way next to you under the blanket. You stiffened as he moved the pillows around to create a fake arm rest, kicking his legs out on the coffee table in front of him. He was so close, you could feel his arm brushing against yours as he moved them to bring the food to his mouth. Brushing his hand against your thigh as he rubbed the crumbs off his finger tips. 

“This pizza’s great, what a great idea. I wonder who came up with” He joked but when he turned to look at you his breath caught in his throat. You gazed at him with a soft smile, your eyes twinkling in the fairy lights. Your hand landed on his, holding it gently. “How do you want your credits?” You whispered, heart pounding as you leaned closer. Leon could feel your breath against his cheek, feel the weight of you as you leaned in closer to him. His eyes scanned you, looking for any sign that he was reading the situation wrong only to find that yours were doing the same. Waiting for the rejection from him, for him to push you away and leave you alone again. 

Leon didn’t dare, not when your lips tasted this sweet once he finally closed the gap. Your skin soft underneath his palms as he held your face and brought you close. The empty plates clattered to the floor, the sound muted as the blanket fell with them. Leon dominated you, pushing you back against the couch. “Are you sure about this?” He asked nervously, his body caged you in. His aftershave intoxicating you as you nipped at the skin of his neck. “I’m sure” You whispered against the stubble that covered his jaw. Slowly making a trail back to his lips. “I don’t want this to be a one time thing because we are lonely” 

“Good. Me neither” 

With a smirk his fingers began to slide up your pj top, helping you remove it quickly. “No bra?” He teased as he pulled one of the hardening buds in his mouth. Sucking at the flesh loudly, his tongue circling the bud with an infinity symbol flicking as he moved over it. You couldn’t even respond to him if you tried, your heart thumping as he kissed along the valley of your breasts. His fingers replacing his lips on the breast he left behind. Your fingers tugged at the strands of his hair, pulling him closer to your chest like you were trying to suffocate him with the sweet smell of lavender that lingers on you. 

You felt him smirk his teeth grazing the bud, small nibbles around the area that was soon to leave marks. He wasn’t even doing anything but devouring your breasts and it got you all hot and bothered. Your breathless moans were your only form of communication; words failing you as he continued to move south. His grip was gently – barely there as he moved his hands down to your thighs. Leon’s fingers dug into the soft flesh prying your legs apart. Your grey shorts are already displaying your eagerness to him. “Never pictured you to become this horny” He teases, his tongue moving up the insides of your thigh marking the journey he made. You felt him suck against the fabric, moaning deeply as the muted taste of you hit his tongue. 

His fingers returned their teasing touch, hovering above the waistband of the shorts. Leon however paused, glancing back up to you waiting silently for a final form of approval before doing anything. Your fingers stroked the soft strands of his hair as you smiled down at him and nodded. The shorts were removed fairly quickly and discarded somewhere in the room. “Cute” He chuckled upon seeing your underwear. You had totally forgotten about the heart shaped ones you wore this morning after not expecting company. “I…I wasn’t planning on this” You chuckled nervously. Your cheeks are heating up as embarrassment flooded through your system. You knew he didn’t care, not when his lust blown eyes watched the unveil of your underwear as he exposed your pussy. 

He watched the poor thing clench around nothing, the cold air making it twitch and spasm as you silently begged for attention. Who was he to deny you? This is what he wanted after all. To finally prove his affection and how much you mean to him, how much effect you had on his life since entering it. His kisses were firm, your arousal was just as sweet as your personality. Now sweetening up his bitter outlook on life. Fuck it was addictive, to ellicite each whine and whimper as he devoured your taste. His cock throbbed in his jeans. It was almost painful.

You didn’t miss the subtle shift in his hips as he ground them into the couch trying to give himself any form of pleasure he could. “Leon- please..more” You whimpered, tugging at the soft strands of his hair to get him to face you. His mouth curved into a grin upon hearing your request. Your slick coating his lips like lip gloss as he finally lifted his head to face you. “Anything for you” He grinned. The warmth seemed to follow him as he stood up, his presence immediately missed as began to remove his jeans and boxers in one fluid motion. 

His cock was pretty, the tip flushed red – cum beading in greeting of your greedy eyes. The shaft decorated in veins you knew would feel perfect as he moved himself through your folds. He knew he should fiddle through his pockets for that shiny wrapper, keep each other protected but at this moment he didn’t seem to care. Not when you were looking at him like that. Your legs spread even wider, pulling them back towards your chest as he returned to his spot. The couch had barely enough room for this type of motion, the coffee table limiting his leg room meaning it was an awkward angle. It didn’t matter in hindsight, not as he sunk himself in your welcoming warmth.

For the first time in years his mind was empty, no thoughts except for the pleasure that coursed through his cock, all of his blood rushing south. Fuck you were devine, he wouldn’t regret what he did to get to this moment. That poor woman who thought she was going to get lucky is now sobbing at home alone. He didn’t care not when you felt this fucking good. Tasted this fucking good. 

“I’m never letting you go” 

His obsession with you was rising, jealousy making him sick with thoughts of the competition he didn’t even have. Leon poured everything he could in the movement of his hips, hoping you’ll never forget the way his cock curved slightly as he entered. The tip brushed against your cervix as he pushed you further into the couch. Your nails grounded him, dug into his shoulder blades as you lost yourself to the feel of his cock. “I don’t want you to” 

The words were breathless, teased against the nape of his neck as you spoke them. His eyes met yours, he didn’t have to explain anything. Not with the history of his love circling around them. You had both been through too much, the job you shared demanding so much of everything. You both needed this. Something to return to – to remind you both you were still human. 

Your orgasm builds up quickly with his rhythmic thrusts hitting every spot you need him to. Your back arched with a gasp as it finally shattered through you, Leon smiled at the sight of you, his hips moved against yours at a bruising pace. It was a dangerous line to push himself this close without pulling out, the claim he could have by finishing inside you. Prevent you from finding anyone else, get anyone else from looking at you. He craved you for so long and it was gone too soon. “Where?” He grunted, burying his head in the crevice of your neck. “Inside” you whispered. 

He smiled against your skin, biting down as he finally let himself go. Your nails dragged along his skin as you felt his warmth flood through you. The two of you laid there, basking in the aftermath of your affection. Breaths mingling as you stared at each other with giddy smiles. “Happy valentines day” He whispered before bringing your lips in a sweet kiss. “Thank you, Leon” 

[littelovelunette]

vi x virgin reader, they meet at a bar and decide to go home and have sex, but reader doesn’t tell vi she’s a virgin, and gets extremely nervous during the act, so she doesn’t talk to vi and tell her what feels good. reader fakes an orgasm to get out of the situation, but vi can tell, so she asks her what’s wrong, and reader bursts out crying, explaining everything, and vi is so gentle and understanding, they have sex again, and this time there’s more communication and video makes reader feel super comfortable and safe, and afterwards there’s sweet aftercare and they fall asleep together

Fake It

Contains alcohol intoxication, smut, faking orgasm, fingering, first time reader, nipple play, clit play, praising, aftercare

You’re not the loudest in the room, nor the quietest, but something about you draws Vi's attention.

Maybe it’s the way you carry yourself—like you belong here but don’t at the same time.

Or maybe it’s the fact that you just turned down some guy who got too close, brushing him off with an effortless ease that makes Vi’s smirk return.

Curious, she leans forward, pushing off the bar and making her way toward you with the kind of confidence that doesn’t need to be forced.

"You always this good at scaring off idiots, or am I just lucky enough to catch the show tonight?" Vi’s voice is smooth but edged with amusement as she leans a little too close, resting a tattooed arm on the counter beside you.

She smells faintly of whiskey and gunpowder, like trouble wrapped in leather, but there’s something else too—something almost... inviting. Like a challenge you didn’t know you were interested in until now.

you both were all over the place kissing and making out, saliva running down vi's chin as she messily made out with you, grabbing your thigh and wrapping it around her waist, oh that beautiful waist

you moaned a little in the kiss and that was all vi needed to hear. throwing some cash at the bartender to cover both of your tabs, vi dragged you out of the bar and into a small apartment. it was nothing much but enough of to fuck at.

that was the intention anyway.

vi pushed you against the wall, scarred lips finding their way on the sensitive skin of your neck as her expert hands worked onto undo the zipper of your dress, smirking a little once she saw your breasts clad with a black lacy bra, "nice bra, dolly. who you thought you were gonna impress?" vi teased

"hopefully you." you grinned and winked a little making vi chuckle, she unhooked it and let it fall towards the slowly increasing pile of clothes on the ground

her hands found their way around tits as she palmed them, "nice and soft," she whispered and bent down to suck on one of your nipple

"oh shit vi that's good," you whispered letting her suck on your tits as you ran your fingers through her hair lazily, mouth agape and head thrown back

vi bit down on your nipple making you gasp a little, she hooked her fingers around your panties and pulled them down, "oh you're so wet for me..." vi scooped up some of your wetness with a finger and tasted you, smiling at the taste of your arousal

vi gestured you to lay down on the bed and so you did a strange nervousness like never before starting to fill your chest

"you look so beautiful like this," vi licked two fingers before she traced your folds with them "you ready for me doll ?"

"m-mhm," you said with a little uncertainty that didnt go unnoticed but since you had consented vi presumed it was okay to proceed

her slender fingers dipped inside your slit starting to move slowly making you feel several emotions at once and that's when you realised, you had never really been able to make yourself cum and whenever you watched porn before, you've seen the women squirt and cum so easily when sexually stimulated, that made you wonder what if you were the problem.

masking your inner turmoil, you let out a soft moan when vi's thumb found your clit gently rubbing it and pressing it, the pressure sure was delicious but then you wondered why you didn't feel the 'knot in your lower tummy' like you read in eroticas and young adult books

you wrapped your arms around vi and put your head over her shoulder so she wouldn't be able to see your face as her fingers continued their ministrations, "vi it feels so good," you whispered over her shoulder

your words were true of course... but you just didn't know when was the right time to cum or when you're supposed to, you've never ever had an orgasm in your life, you're torn and overwhelmed now- what should you do, you thought but nothing really came to your mind

i think i should just fake it

"vi i think im gonna cum," you whispered and whined as vi's fingers got faster then, her thumb pressing harder against your clit as she drove her fingers deeper making you gasp a little at the intensity

you pretended that you came, body tensing up and all breath hitching and pussy clenching around her digits before you let your limbs fall back down, back flat against the mattress

vi furrowed her eyebrows, "darling." she started and that made your heart drop. she knew.

"i've had a lot of flings and shit in the past, I know a fake orgasm when I see one, better yet cause one," vi said, pulling her fingers out slowly and wiping the love juices off against the sheets hastily

you didnt know what to do and before you could control it tears started to stream down your cheeks alarming vi

"baby, hey, hey hey it's okay i was just saying, I wanna know what's up, hey, cmon talk to me," vi pulled you in for a hug and let you rest your face against her chest

"i just- i guess i watched a lot of porn in my life and it's just that," you sniffled, "they cum and squirt within minutes into the intercourse and whenever I masterbated I never was able to make myself have an orgasm and i dont know why maybe theres something wrong with me!"

"nothings wrong with you," vi said instantly before sighing a little, "hey it's okay, just talk to me and tell me what feels good yeah? we can work this out."

"but ive never had sex before i don't know what feels good because I've never had someone else do it for me it's always been me myself." you said trying to wipe your tears away as you fought to spoke despite your throat feeling closed up

"that's fine this time we'll communicate when I touch you you'll tell me if it feels good and if it doesn't, I'll understand and I'll make you have a real orgasm, got it princess?" vi smiled gently

"m-mhm... im sorry ill try to talk..." you mumbled out and vi nodded, "that's a good girl you're learning."

vi helped you lay back down trailing kisses down all the way around your neck and collarbone, "so beautiful, my love." she sucked a dark purple spot over your collarbone making you cry out in pleasure, grabbing the sheets with both hands.

vi interlaced fingers with yours using her right hand while her left hand trailed down to cup your wet pussy, rubbing the sensitive clit with her knuckle before replacing it with her thumb.

her fingers were opening your folds up again as two fingers dipped right back inside your wet awaiting slit. "o-oh..." you moaned softly as you felt her fingers go knuckles deep inside, "feels good?" vi asked and you nodded after a little bit of contemplating, "it's good..."

"good girl now tell me how this feels," vi said and pressed your clit using her thumb and started rubbing circles over it making your back arch as you instinctively tried to grind against her touch, "t-too good!" you whined out and vi smirked at the sight of you so vulnerable and pleasured

she was feeling a sense of satisfaction by just watching you reacting so responsively to her touch, especially her thumb on your clit.

vi's fingers worked diligently pumping inside you finding the little textured bit and started rubbing there as she added a third finger making you gasp and moan loudly, your thighs begun shaking as she continued her ministrations

her work on your clit was getting faster making you gasp and moan loudly pretty much like those pornstars you had seen and let influence your thoughts and actions prior to your communication with vi

this felt heavenly and you felt a tingly sensation starting to cross your abdomen, no— lower abdomen, making you whine and bite your bottom lip to hold back the scream threatening to lip your now red lips

"cmon, give your first to me all to me," vi whispered seductively in your ears before she bit the side your neck you screamed in pleasure and your juices squirted out of your pussy coating fingers and the sheets beneath, it was a small stream but it still was something

"you did so well darling." vi pulled her fingers back and licked them seductively smirking down at your figure she was clearly proud of herself for taking your first and you were happy it was her.

i had written an elaborate part for the aftercare here but it got error-ed out due to my shitty network connection, im fuming and won't write it again bc im so pissed istg (might edit it in later)

you both cleaned up later and had a shower together eating some dried fruits after and a glass of water. you were on the counter top, wearing a loose shirt of vi's

"mm... im exhausted lovely wanna get in bed?"

"change the sheets first," you demanded and vi laughed a little before she pulled you to the bed so you could help her change the sheets which you did gladly

once the bed was made freshly again, you both got in bed and vi pulled the blankets over her figure and yours, kissing you on the ehad

"goodnight lovely."

"goodnight, baby."

[lovetaroandtaemin]

Team Building

Kwon Soonyoung x Reader

Word Count: 7,352

Genre: Smut, angst, fluff, some crack.

Rating: Explicit, MINORS DNI!

Summary: When Y/N and her annoying coworker Soonyoung are forced to share a hotel room during a business trip, tensions are high.

Content Warnings: Mentioned alcohol but everybody is sober during the smut, unprotected sex, oral (f recieving), multiple orgasms, dirty talk, creampie, soft dom!Hoshi, fingering in the break room, situationship, angst with a happy ending, this man is an idiot I'm sorry. If you think I missed a warning, please let me know!

A/N: This fic is part of the Secret Cupid event hosted by the incredible @ddeonghwa-s! This particular fic was written for Bambi, aka @soongyeopsal. I hope you like it!

If y'all want to read the other fics that were written for this event, the masterlist can be found here!

Happy reading, and happy Valentine's Day!

Taglist: @xomakara, @notyourjaem, @heechwe, @shadowkoo

Fic is under the cut.

Kwon Soonyoung was the bane of your existence. He had his charming moments, sure, and he always performed well at work, but he was also arrogant, loud, and just plain rude, especially to you. Every conversation that the two of you had, even if you were only talking to him because you needed to get work done, left you even more irritated with him than you were before. His answers were brief, his tone was sarcastic, and his lack of interest was evident in every word. However, you figured that you could deal with an annoying coworker. After all, you loved your job, and you knew that you wouldn’t be able to find something in your field that paid as well as your position at Carat Interactive.

As annoying as Soonyoung was, however, you also had to admit that he was incredibly attractive, despite his tendency to act like a douchebag whenever you had the displeasure of speaking to him. His eyes were a warm shade of brown that made you melt every time you looked into them, his smile gave you butterflies every time you saw it, and his lips looked so kissable. You almost wanted to put aside your hatred to find out just how good of a kisser he was. Almost.

If Soonyoung was being completely honest with himself, he wasn’t particularly fond of you either. He thought that you were far too pretentious and far too serious for your own good. Despite all of that, though, he still couldn’t help but think that you were absolutely beautiful. Every time he saw you in the office, he couldn’t help but stare, and he hated himself for it. That didn’t stop him from doing it, though.

One day, when your annoyance with Soonyoung was at an all-time high, Seungcheol, your boss, called a team meeting. It took longer than you wanted to admit for you to find the room, but eventually, you did. Then, when you walked through the door, the only empty seat in the boardroom was right next to Soonyoung, because of course it was. You really didn’t want to sit next to him, but your desire to avoid disrupting the meeting even more than you already had won out in the end. So, you quietly took a seat and prayed that Soonyoung would not speak to you. Of course, because the gods hated you, the moment he saw you, he asked, “You couldn’t find anywhere else to sit?”

“Look around. Do you see any other open spots?”

Seungcheol cleared his throat and asked, “(Y/N). Soonyoung. Is there a problem?”

“No, there isn’t,” you answered, “Apologies for the disruption.”

“Thank you. Now, onto the reason that I called this meeting,” Seungcheol began. “I’ve noticed several issues when it comes to cooperation and respect on this team. So, I have to ask. How are we going to get anything done if no one can work together?”

“Maybe if you didn’t hire pretentious idiots that don’t know what they’re doing, things would be easier,” Soonyoung muttered.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, Soonyoung. With that attitude, we’re never going to get anything done. That’s why, as manager, I’ve decided to organize a team retreat. Hopefully, some team building exercises in a fun new location will help you all see the importance of working together.”

You wanted to complain, citing upcoming deadlines and your concerns about the nature of the “team building exercises” that Seungcheol mentioned, but you knew better than to argue with your boss, especially when he was angry.

“Does anyone have any questions?”

Seokmin was the first to speak up, asking, “Will we be paid for attending this retreat?”

“Yes,” Seungcheol answered.

“How long will the retreat last?” someone else asked.

“We’ll be gone for a week. Please make any arrangements that need to be made for pet care or childcare by Saturday, since we’re leaving next Sunday,” your boss replied. “Are there any other questions?” The room fell silent, so Seungcheol added, “Very well. If something comes up, and you do need to speak to me about the retreat, just come and find me in my office. This meeting is adjourned; thank you for your time.”

With the surprise meeting officially over, everyone left the room in hopes of finishing their assigned tasks before clocking out for the day. As you sat down at your desk, however, you heard an irritatingly familiar voice ask, “So, are you looking forward to the retreat?”

“Not even a little,” you replied, not even looking up from your work. “Are you?”

“Oh, totally,” Soonyoung said, his voice laced with sarcasm. “What could be better than being stuck with ‘Cheol and his ‘team building exercises’ for an entire week? It’s gonna be the highlight of my year.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little bit at Soonyoung’s comment before you said, “Oh, you’re so right. I can’t believe I didn’t even consider the excitement of spending a week locked in a room with our entire team doing trust falls and talking about our feelings!”

After a brief silence, Soonyoung said, “Damn, (Y/N), I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean, you never make jokes at work. I kind of thought you didn’t know how to make jokes at all.”

“Well, I do. I also know how to be serious when it’s necessary, like when I’m at work.”

“You really need to loosen up sometimes,” Soonyoung commented, his growing frustration evident in his voice.

“I do loosen up, just not here.”

Soonyoung huffed and walked away, seemingly bored of talking to you. You wanted to tell yourself that you didn’t care about his indifference, but you found that a small part of you was disappointed that he’d walked away. Sure, he drove you insane, but you also missed his little comments when he wasn’t around. However, you knew that if you told him that, you’d never hear the end of it. So, you kept your confusing feelings to yourself.

The rest of the week passed with only a few minor arguments with Soonyoung, and before you knew it, you were driving to the hotel where you were supposed to be staying for the retreat. If you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t dreading the retreat as much as you did when you first found out about it. Sure, you weren’t thrilled to be stuck in a hotel with your coworkers for an extended period of time in an unfamiliar area, but you still wanted to be optimistic. After all, you were getting paid to be there, which meant that you basically had a week off from your actual job while still bringing in money. Plus, a small part of you hoped to meet an attractive guy to hook up with in your free time.

Your optimism was snuffed out like a flame when you got to the hotel. Due to a scheduling error, despite both of your requests to the contrary, you would be sharing a room with Soonyoung. You tried to talk to Seungcheol about the error, but he told you that there was nothing that he could do. So, while you weren’t happy about it, you decided that you would try to make the best of a bad situation.

When you got to your room, you found Soonyoung sitting on one of the beds and scrolling on his phone. Without even looking up at you, he said, “Before you say anything, just know that I’m not happy about this either.”

“I wasn’t planning on saying anything,” you retorted. “I just wanted to sit in the room. Is that ok with you?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. You’re the one that gets mad at me every time we talk.”

“No, I don’t. I just get tired of your pretentious fucking attitude.”

“I’m not pretentious; I just don’t screw around at work. You might wanna take some notes.”

“Why, so I can be the most boring person in the office? I’ll pass.”

“Fuck this, I’m going out.”

“Bye!”

After you left the room, you wandered around for what felt like hours before you found your friends Wonwoo and Mingyu at the hotel’s bar. When they saw you, they cheered and invited you over with smiles on their faces and drinks in their hands. Once Wonwoo noticed the look of irritation on your face, however, his smile was replaced with a look of concern as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sharing a room with Soonyoung,” you spat.

“Are you serious?” Mingyu asked. “I thought you specifically asked to share with anyone but him.”

“I did. Seungcheol said there was an error when the trip was booked, and there’s nothing he can do. Which means I have to deal with him for a week, with no breaks.”

“I mean, this is a break, isn’t it?” Wonwoo asked.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” you replied.

As if on cue, you heard a voice behind you say, “Wonwoo! Mingyu! How are you guys?”

“Hi, Soonyoung!” Mingyu said, a mischievous smile forming on his face. “Wonwoo and I were just leaving to get some rest. (Y/N) just got here, though. You two should hang out!”

You gave Mingyu a death glare, and Soonyoung said, “That’s ok. I don’t think she wants to hang out with me.” If you didn’t know any better, you would have said that he sounded sad as he said it. That wouldn’t make any sense, though. Soonyoung hated you. Why would he be upset that you didn’t want to hang out with him?

You brushed off the thought and opened your mouth to speak, but before you could get the words out, Mingyu smiled again and said, “That’s not true! She’d love to spend some time with you. Isn’t that right, (Y/N)?”

In that moment, you felt like you couldn’t say no. So, you gritted your teeth and said, “That’s right. I don’t mind,” turning around to see Soonyoung’s face change from one of disappointment to one of what you could really only describe as excitement.

“Really? It’s ok if-”

“Really, Soonyoung,” you said, softening when you saw the change in his demeanor. “Why don’t you find us a spot to sit, and I’ll order some drinks.” He nodded and left to find a table, and you turned back to your friend and asked, “What the fuck was that?”

“Trust me, (Y/N),” Mingyu said. “I’ve known Soonyoung since high school. He’s an idiot, but he’s not an asshole. He just acts all weird with you because he likes you.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Watch how he acts after we leave. Then, when the two of you inevitably get drunk and hook up tonight, you can fall asleep afterward with the satisfaction that I was right.”

You rolled your eyes and said, “Sure, whatever. Bye.”

Mingyu and Wonwoo left, and you decided to order some sodas for you and Soonyoung. After all, you didn’t know what kind of alcohol he liked, and you really didn’t want to get drunk around him.

When you got back to the table with two glasses of cola in hand, Soonyoung smiled and said, “Thanks!”

“No problem. I didn’t know what kind of drink you’d want, so I just got sodas.”

“That’s ok. I don’t drink much, so I don’t really know either,” he responded with a laugh.

“Fair enough.”

There was an awkward silence for a few minutes before Soonyoung asked, “So, how was the drive here?”

“It could have been better. There was so much more traffic than I’m used to,” you responded with a soft laugh.

“Oh my god, I know! I guess Seungcheol picked a busy weekend or something. Listen, I love the guy, but his timing sucks when it comes to planning company events.”

You laughed a bit at Soonyoung’s comment, and some of the awkwardness in the air seemed to dissipate. You also noticed that there was a faint blush on his cheeks, but you decided not to comment on it. After all, you didn’t want the awkwardness to come back.

When Soonyoung heard your laugh, he was certain that it was the most beautiful sound that he’d ever heard. Sure, he still thought that you were far too serious at work, but actually interacting with you outside of the office made him start to reconsider the way he felt about you. He realized that he liked you a lot, and for a brief moment, he thought about asking you to continue the party in your room. He decided against it, however, not wanting to make you uncomfortable or come on too strongly.

As the night went on, you found yourself really enjoying Soonyoung’s company. He was one of the funniest people you’d talked to in a long time, he actually paid attention when you spoke, and he didn’t make a single rude comment the entire time you sat with him, still drinking sodas because neither of you wanted alcohol. You started to wonder what was different, since you’d been alone with him before, but you decided not to think about it too much. After all, there were far more interesting things to think about.

Whether it was the desperation that came from the dry spell you’d found yourself in for the past several months, the way Soonyoung looked at you as you told some story about a girls’ night gone wrong, or some strange combination of the two, you had no idea. All you knew was that you wanted Soonyoung, and you wanted him immediately.

After you finished your story, you looked at Soonyoung and asked, “Do you wanna go back to the room?”

With a smirk on his face that you knew would be the death of you, he asked, “Why? I thought we were having fun here.”

“Oh, I am,” you began, your nerves slowly starting to get the better of you. “I just thought we could have more fun back in the room.”

“What kind of fun?”

“That’s up to you.”

“Well, I have a few ideas.”

“I can’t wait to hear them.”

“When we get back to the room, I’d be happy to show you,” he said with a wink.

Before you knew it, you were paying for the drinks and walking back to your room with Soonyoung. When you got there, you had to wait for him to unlock the door, and it was torture. When the door finally opened, however, the frustration you were feeling shifted into something that you couldn’t quite name.

Soonyoung pinned you to the door the moment it was shut again, his lips meeting yours with a passion that could only be described as animalistic. As his lips moved against yours, a soft moan left your mouth, and he took that as an opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Eventually, he pulled away to let you breathe, and the only thing you could think to say was, “Wow.”

“Already so flustered you can’t even speak? You’re so cute,” Soonyoung commented with a soft laugh.

A soft whine slipped out in response, and you said, “Please do something.”

“What do you want me to do, baby?”

“Want you to touch me.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Just, please,” you begged, desperate for anything beyond what you’d already been given.

Soonyoung pretended to think for a minute before he smiled at you and said, “Lie down on the bed for me, baby.”

You immediately did as you were told, and Soonyoung settled himself between your legs before pulling your skirt up and your panties down. Then, he started placing gentle kisses on your inner thigh, only biting occasionally. Every touch left you wanting more, and you could only take so much teasing. When it all got to be too much, you whined and said, “Please, just fuck me already!”

Soonyoung laughed against you and said, “Alright, princess.”

With no additional warning or teasing, Soonyoung slowly licked a stripe up your pussy. A loud moan left your mouth at the sudden stimulation, and it was all you could do to stay still as he continued to eat you out there was nothing in the world that he wanted to do more.

Each time he moaned against you, shockwaves of pleasure went through your body, and you knew that you probably wouldn’t last long. You wanted to be embarrassed, since your annoying coworker was the reason you were so turned on, but you really couldn’t bring yourself to care. After all, Soonyoung was already better at pleasing you than any other man you’d been with before him.

“Fuck, feels so good,” you moaned, tangling your hands in his hair. Soonyoung didn’t respond verbally, but the way he started to move his tongue faster after you spoke told you that he heard you loud and clear.

It was only a matter of time before you started to feel your release building inside you. With a loud whine, you said, “’m close.” Soonyoung groaned against you one more time, and that was all it took for your orgasm to wash over you with a loud moan of his name. He continued his movements as you reached your high, stopping just before the pleasure would have turned into pain.

Once you caught your breath, you sat up and pulled Soonyoung into a kiss, and the fire of lust that you thought had been put out was lit once again. Within minutes, both of you had thrown your clothes on the floor, and Soonyoung was on top of you. After he lined himself up with your entrance, you kissed him again, and he took the opportunity to carefully push into you.

A loud moan left your mouth as Soonyoung entered you, and you held onto him for dear life while you adjusted to his size. He was much bigger than the men you’d previously been with, so it took longer for you to adjust than you would have expected. Not that you were complaining, of course.

Once you were ready, you gave Soonyoung the green light, and he slowly started moving. Every drag of his cock inside you had you seeing stars, and you swore he was better in bed than anyone else that you’d been with before him. As he increased the speed of his thrusts, however, you found that you weren’t thinking about anyone else anymore.

Soonyoung loved watching you fall apart underneath him, if he was being completely honest. Sure, he didn’t exactly plan to sleep with you when he first ran into you at the bar, but he definitely wasn’t complaining. You felt too good around him for him to complain, and he loved every moan and whine that left your lips as he pounded into you.

Just like when he’d gotten you off with his tongue, you knew pretty early on that you probably wouldn’t last long with Soonyoung’s cock inside of you. Still, you really didn’t care. All you cared about was the pleasure coursing through your veins with every movement.

“Fuck. You feel so good, baby. Like this pussy was made for me,” Soonyoung said in between groans. You were too fucked out to respond verbally, but the fact that you started moaning louder after he spoke told him that you heard him loud and clear.

“I’m close, baby. Where do you want it?”

“Inside, please, please, please,” you begged, desperate for Soonyoung to fill you.

Within seconds, Soonyoung reached his high, filling you with cum. Your release came not long after that, and you pulled him in for another kiss as you came undone around his cock. Eventually, you had to pull away for air, but the way he looked into your eyes as you came down from your high left butterflies in your stomach and a smile on your face.

After you both caught your breath, Soonyoung said, “Let’s get you cleaned up, baby,” and climbed off of you. Once you felt like you could move, you took his outstretched hand and stood up, pulling him into a hug. When he let go, you both moved to clean up and get dressed.

Once you were both dressed and comfortable again, you pulled Soonyoung into a hug and asked, “Can we share a bed tonight?”

“Of course, baby. Which one?”

“I don’t think it matters,” you answered with a laugh.

Soonyoung smiled and led you to the bed furthest from the door, and you immediately snuggled into his side. The bed was small, so you had to lie down pretty much on top of him to avoid falling off, but neither of you really minded.

While Soonyoung held you close, the two of you talked about your interests and lives outside of work, with each of you hoping to get to know the other better. The conversation didn’t last very long though, since both of you fell asleep in a matter of minutes, surprised by the events of the day but happy to end it in each other’s arms.

The next morning, you woke up on the floor in between the room’s two beds. At some point during the night, you rolled over too far and fell out of Soonyoung’s bed, much to your frustration and his amusement when he woke up and realized what had happened. Once he stopped laughing, however, he helped you up and asked, “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m alright. I guess I fell out of bed while I was sleeping.”

“I noticed. You looked kind of cute on the floor,” he replied, starting to laugh again.

You pouted at his comment and said, “Why are you laughing at me?”

“I’m just laughing because of how adorable you are, sweetheart.”

You started to smile when he called you cute again and pulled him into a hug. With a groan of frustration, you said, “I really don’t want to participate in whatever Seungcheol has planned for today.”

“I know. I’m pretty sure I heard him mention trust falls when we were all in the lobby last night.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you said, laughing at the cliché team building your boss apparently had planned.

“I wish I was. But I swear, I specifically heard him say the words ‘trust falls’ to Jeonghan.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, dreading the event even more.

“Yeah, I’m not excited about it either. Look on the bright side, though. I’ll be right there with you the whole time, no matter how awkward and boring it gets.”

You smiled when you heard Soonyoung say that he’d be there with you, and without really thinking about it, you kissed him again. He deepened the kiss pretty much immediately, with his hands finding their way to your hair and pulling slightly. A soft moan left your lips, and he pulled away with a grin on his face before he said, “Later, baby.”

“That’s not fair! You started it!”

“Yes I did.”

You laughed at his boldness, and the two of you got ready together to face the day ahead. While you went about your morning routine, you occasionally noticed Soonyoung staring at you with a dopey grin on his face and something that you couldn’t quite identify in his eyes. The third time you caught him staring at you, you finally decided to just ask, “What are you looking at?”

“You. Why do you ask? Is it a problem?”

“No. I just wanna know what’s so interesting that I’ve caught you looking at me three different times now.”

“You are. Plus, you look really fucking sexy,” he replied with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, but your soft laugh at his answer betrayed your attempt at looking annoyed.

After your little exchange, you went back to getting ready, and when it was time to leave, you and Soonyoung left together to go to the convention center near your hotel. When you got there, several of your coworkers stared at the two of you, clearly perplexed as to how you two were interacting without an argument.

When you ran into Mingyu, he gave you a knowing smile and asked, “So, how was your night?”

“It was pretty good,” you admitted, looking at Soonyoung as you spoke. “Turns out we have more in common than we thought.”

“See?” Mingyu asked. “I told you to trust me.”

Before Soonyoung could ask what Mingyu meant, Wonwoo arrived and said, “So, (Y/N), I see you had an interesting night.”

You rolled your eyes at the comment and said, “Shut up.”

“Shit, we have to go!” Mingyu groaned. “Do you remember where Seungcheol we were doing the things?”

“No, I don’t,” you answered.

“I do,” Soonyoung said. “Follow me.”

You followed Soonyoung down one of the convention center’s many hallways until you stood in front of a door that was labeled, “Carat Interactive Team Building.” When you entered the room, you noticed a very large stage, complete with a microphone and a banner above it that said, “Trust Falls.” That was when you realized that Soonyoung really wasn’t kidding about what he’d overheard the night before, and you stifled a laugh. You didn’t find the situation funny anymore, however, when your boss took his place in front of the microphone with a look of what could only be described as rage on his face. With a deep sigh, he began, “Welcome to day one of the Carat Interactive team building retreat. We’re here today so that you all can build stronger bonds with your teammates and hopefully learn something new about what it really means to work together and trust each other.”

Soonyoung snickered at Seungcheol’s introduction and said, “We wouldn’t need to learn how to work together if you were better at coordinating.”

“What was that, Soonyoung?” Seungcheol asked, clearly tired of your coworker’s bullshit.

“I said that we wouldn’t need to learn how to work together if you were better at coordinating,” Soonyoung repeated loudly, unfazed by Seungcheol’s anger.

Seungcheol sighed again before he smiled and said, “You know what, thank you, Soonyoung. Thank you so much for volunteering to start our first activity of the day.”

“Hey, I didn’t-” Soonyoung began.

“I don’t care!” Seungcheol exclaimed, his previous rage replaced with unsettling excitement. “Our first team building exercise is trust falls. Each of you will take turns coming up onto this stage and sharing something about yourself that you’ve never told the rest of the team. After you share, you will turn so that your back is facing your teammates and fall backward, trusting your teammates to catch you. Is that clear?” After a series of vague expressions of affirmation and nods from your coworkers, your boss added, “Come on up, Soonyoung! Thank you so much for agreeing to go first.”

Hesitantly, Soonyoung joined Seungcheol on stage and asked, “Why are we doing this?”

“I just told you why. Now, share something that your teammates don’t know about you!” Seungcheol replied, the unsettling excitement in his voice making him sound like a game show host that had been possessed by a demon.

Seungcheol stepped out of the way, and with a sigh, Soonyoung stepped closer to the microphone as you and the rest of your coworkers stepped closer to the stage to catch him. After another deep breath, he said, “I really don’t want to be here right now,” his solemn demeanor making it seem like he was sharing his darkest secret with the group instead of just being a smartass.

You laughed at his “admission,” which earned you a glare from Seungcheol. He didn’t say anything, though, which was a huge relief.

As everyone else on your team took turns sharing secrets and falling, you realized that Seungcheol had intentionally picked you last. You should have been upset, but all you could think about was how grateful you were that you got to put off your part of the exercise for as long as possible.

When Seungcheol called your name, you made your way onto the stage, and he said, “What would you like to share with your teammates today?”

With a deep breath to calm your nerves, you said, “I worry too much about what other people think, and sometimes I think that no one actually likes me.”

You stepped forward, turned your back to your coworkers, and fell, hoping that someone would actually catch you. After you fell, you felt several sets of arms holding you above the ground. When your feet were back on the floor, you turned and realized that Soonyoung was one of the people that caught you. With the same smirk on his face that he had at the bar, he said, “I mean, I had a feeling that you would fall for me after last night, but this seems a bit excessive.”

You laughed at his comment and said, “Thank you.”

With all of the trust falls complete, Seungcheol dismissed you all from the auditorium by saying, “That’s all we had planned for today. Enjoy the rest of your day, everyone, but don’t do anything stupid. I’m looking at you, Soonyoung.”

The man in question laughed and reached his hand out to grab yours. You smiled at the small gesture, and he said, “So, what do you wanna do now?”

“I think I’d like to just go back to the room, if that’s ok.”

“Of course, baby.”

You and Soonyoung made your way back to the hotel room, and when you got there, you collapsed on your bed and sighed. Soonyoung laughed a bit at your actions, and you asked, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, sweetheart. You’re just so cute.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Hmmm, no thanks,” he responded with a laugh. You laughed along with him, and he took a seat on his bed. Once the laughter turned to silence, however, his demeanor grew serious, and he asked, “You know that I really do like you, right?”

“What?”

“I’m talking about what you said during the trust falls. You know that I really do like you, right?”

“Oh. Well, I guess I do now.”

“I mean it.”

“Thanks,” you said with a soft smile.

There was another silence before Soonyoung asked, “So, what do you wanna do?”

“Can we just talk?”

“Yeah, of course. Getting to know you better has been really nice.”

With that, the two of you talked about anything and everything that came to mind until it got too late for either of you to keep your eyes open. That was when you both went to sleep, each of you in your separate beds this time. You briefly considered asking if you could share a bed with Soonyoung again, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable or wake up on the floor again, so you decided against it.

The rest of the week went by with no other major events, and you couldn’t wait to finally go home after being stuck in an unfamiliar city with your coworkers for a week. The drive home was far more peaceful than you expected, with significantly less traffic than when you’d driven to the hotel at the start of the week. When you finally got home, the first thing you did was text Soonyoung.

Y/N: Hi. Just wanted to say I had a lot of fun with you this week.

Soonyoung: I had fun too. Any time you wanna hang out, just let me know.

Y/N: I will, thanks. See you at work tomorrow.

Soonyoung: See you tomorrow.

After that, you decided to enjoy the rest of your day by ordering a pizza from the restaurant near your apartment and watching your favorite movie for the thousandth time while you ate it. The time to just exist in your apartment and not worry about expectations from your boss or what your coworkers thought of you was badly needed, and at the end of the day, you went to bed feeling much better about the mandatory fun your boss had spent the past week subjecting you to.

When you went back to work the following Monday, you noticed that everyone in the office was far nicer to you than usual, except for Soonyoung. He wasn’t exactly rude to you, but he also didn’t talk to you nearly as much as he had when the two of you were away. You didn’t worry too much, though, assuming that he was just tired from the trip and wanted a bit of space.

After a few weeks of Soonyoung not talking to you unless it was absolutely necessary, however, you started to worry. Had you said or done something to upset him at some point while you were at the retreat? You had no idea, so you decided to try again to talk to him whenever you could get him alone.

The opportunity to ask Soonyoung what the hell was going on came when you least expected it. You’d gone into the office break room and noticed that he was the only person there. He saw you at the same time that you saw him, and he tried to leave the room. Before he could, though, you stood in front of the door and asked, “Why haven’t you been talking to me?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he answered, clearly uncomfortable.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” you answered, sick of his shit already. “Since we got home, you’ve refused to talk to me unless you absolutely have to. Why?”

With a sigh, Soonyoung said, “I just got nervous around you after the stuff that happened during the retreat. Can I make it up to you?”

“How?”

“I’ll do whatever you want, baby,” he answered, with that god damn smirk forming on his face as he spoke. Honestly, it probably shouldn’t have had the effect on you that it did, especially when you considered how upset you were that he’d been avoiding you. When you looked into his eyes, however, you didn’t care that he’d upset you. All you could think about was how badly you wanted him.

So, you turned away from Soonyoung just long enough to lock the door before turning back to him and kissing him with everything you had. The intensity almost knocked him over, but he stood firm as he wrapped his arms around you. You moaned softly into the kiss, and Soonyoung pulled away just long enough to say, “Just tell me what you want, baby, and it’s yours.”

“Want you.”

“I kind of figured as much,” he teased. “Do you want my mouth, my fingers, or my cock, princess?”

“Fingers, please?”

“Your wish is my command, my darling,” he said as he shifted your panties to the side and gently inserted two fingers into you. You cried out at the feeling, moving your hips ever so slightly as he fucked you.

With another loud whine, you said, “Feels so good.”

“I know, baby. I love how much of a mess you are for me.”

His words made your head spin, and you started to buck your hips up to meet his hand again. With every movement, you felt yourself already heading toward your release. This time, you were slightly embarrassed, but your arousal overruled any judgement or embarrassment as you lost yourself in the way Soonyoung’s fingers felt inside of you.

“I’m close,” you said, desperate to reach your high.

Once he processed what you said, Soonyoung started to lightly kiss your neck, and his mouth on you was the exact push that you needed to go tumbling over the edge. He continued to gently fuck you through your release until you started to push his hand away, overwhelmed by the continued stimulation.

Once you came down from your high, you leaned closer to Soonyoung to kiss him, but he moved at the last second, sending you tumbling to the floor. After you caught your breath, you stood up and asked, “What the fuck?”

Soonyoung didn’t answer, though, because he was too busy unlocking the door and running out of the room, since you were no longer blocking him. Once you realized that he’d left, and you were alone in the break room, you started to sob uncontrollably, wondering what you’d done wrong for him to treat you like you were nothing to him unless he was fucking you.

Once you calmed down, you stood up, brushed yourself off, and walked out of the break room to go back to the work you’d left unfinished. When you got back to your desk, Wonwoo approached you and asked, “Are you ok? Mingyu said he heard sobs coming from the break room.”

The question almost made you cry again, but you managed to maintain your composure long enough to choke out, “I’m fine. It’s a long story. Can I tell you later?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Thanks for looking out for me.”

“That what friends are for,” he said with a smile.

Wonwoo walked away after that, and you went back to your work. For the most part, you didn’t have any additional problems, which you appreciated. The only real issue was the fact that you couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened with Soonyoung. Why had he been so cold toward you after what happened in the break room? You had no idea, so you tried to the best of your ability to not think about it. All of your thoughts were on Soonyoung once again, however, when he sent you a text after work.

Soonyoung: I’m sorry I left as quickly as I did. Seungcheol texted me to tell me to get back to work, and I panicked.

Y/N: Are you fucking serious? You couldn’t have said something before you left the room?

After that, you didn’t get a reply, so you decided to try again to avoid thinking about Soonyoung. Just like every other time you’d tried to purge unwanted thoughts from your head, however, thoughts of him and what he wanted from you plagued pretty much every waking moment. After weeks of struggling with what to do, you decided to go to the man that started it all for advice.

When you showed up at Mingyu’s apartment unannounced, your friend was surprised, to say the least. Regardless, he happily let you into his apartment and asked, “What’s up?”

“We need to talk about Soonyoung.”

“What do you mean?

“He won’t talk to me unless he wants to fuck.”

“That doesn’t sound like Soonyoung. He’s an idiot, sure, but he’s not an asshole.” To prove your point, you showed Mingyu your messaging history with Soonyoung. He was surprised to say the least, but he didn’t try to argue anymore. All he said was, “I’m so sorry. If I’d known he’d act that way, I would never have set you two up.”

“I’m not here for an apology. I’m here for advice. I want to ignore the way I feel about him, but I just can’t anymore.”

“Wait, what do you mean by ‘the way you feel about him?’”

You sighed and answered, “I think I want an actual relationship with him.”

Mingyu was shocked by your admission, but once he got over that, he said, “I think you should tell him that.”

“’Gyu, I love you, but are you crazy?”

“Please, just trust me on this.”

“Trusting you is what got me into this situation in the first place!”

“And trusting me is what’s going to get you out of it. I know Soonyoung. If you tell him, he’ll realize that he’s been acting like an idiot and fix things.”

With a sigh, you reluctantly said, “Ok. Thanks for the advice.”

“It’s no problem. You know I’ll always be here for you.”

With that, you pulled Mingyu into a hug, hoping that he was right about Soonyoung. As you left his apartment, you contemplated when you wanted to talk to him. After some careful consideration, you knew exactly when and how you wanted to confront him.

In the end, you decided that Valentine’s Day was the perfect time to go to Soonyoung’s apartment and confront him. You didn’t initially want the discussion to happen on the holiday, but when you realized that it was the next time you would be free, you knew that you had the perfect opportunity to solve the Soonyoung problem once and for all. Either he would confess that he wanted more, which was perfect for the holiday of love, or he would tell you he never wanted to see you again, which would be a perfect example of dark irony. Regardless of the outcome, you figured that there was no better time to get the answers that you so desperately wanted.

You knocked on Soonyoung’s door, and it took some time for him to answer it. When he opened the door and saw you standing in front of him, he tried to close the door. Before he could fully shut it, however, you yelled, “Can we talk, please?”

Hesitantly, Soonyoung opened the door again and asked, “What do you want?”

“I wanna know why you only talk to me when you’re horny.”

“What? What the fuck do you-”

“Every time you’ve called or texted me since we’ve been home from that stupid retreat that Seungcheol put together, it’s been because you wanted sex. I want to know why you think so little of me that you think that’s ok.”

“I don’t think that little of you.”

“Then why the fuck do you do it?”

With a deep sigh, he answered, “Just come inside, and we’ll talk.”

Reluctantly, you agreed, and he moved out of the doorway to let you in. Once you were in his apartment, he led you to his couch. As you sat down, you asked, “Why did we have to talk here?”

With a deep sigh, Soonyoung said, “So I could do this,” and kissed you.

You started to melt into the kiss, just like you always did when you were with him, but it only took a minute for you to snap out of it, pull away, and say, “I’m not having sex with you today, Soonyoung.”

“I know.”

You were quiet after that, confused by the way he was acting and irritated that you let the situation get as far as it did. After a few minutes lost in your thoughts, you said, “Just tell me what you want. If you just want someone to have sex with, tell me. If you want a relationship, tell me. Either way, I’ll be ok. I just can’t stand the games.”

It was in that moment that Soonyoung realized that he fucked up. With another deep sigh, he said, “I want a relationship with you. I’m sorry that I ever made you think otherwise. Can you forgive me?”

You softened when you noticed the tears forming in his eyes, and against your better judgement, you said, “Of course.”

Soonyoung smiled and pulled you into a hug after that, relieved that he hadn’t lost you completely. While he held you close, he said, “Does this mean what I think it means?” You nodded against him, and he let go of you just long enough to cup your face in his hands and say, “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

“Thank you for finally giving me a straight answer about what I am to you.”

With that same smirk on his face, he asked, “So, baby, how do you want to celebrate our first Valentine’s Day together?”

“I’m happy to celebrate however you want. As long as we’re spending time together, I’m fine with anything. I still don’t want to have sex tonight, though.”

“That’s perfectly fine, princess. I’m sorry about how I treated you. You must think I’m an idiot, huh?”

“Just a little, but you’re my idiot.”

With that, you relaxed into Soonyoung’s hold, content with the way your conversation went. You weren’t entirely sure that you trusted him yet, but you still wanted to give him a chance. After all, you liked the way that he made you feel now that you weren’t angry anymore.

Thank you for reading! I loved participating in this event. Once again, thank you to @ddeonghwa-s for the opportunity to participate! If you liked this, please like and reblog! If you wanna be tagged in future works, fill out the taglist form here! If you want to check out my other works, check out my main masterlist. If you want to see what else is in the works, you can check my upcoming works list! If none of that interests you, or there's something specific you want to see, feel free to send a request via my asks or dms!

Thank you again for reading, have a lovely Valentine's Day!

[ladykailitha]

Heartbreak in Overdrive Part 1

Yeah, I know this is supposed to be Spellbound, but like this has five chapters in backlog, and it really needs to be let out before it breaks containment.

The title comes I'll Wait by Van Halen, as I wanted something to do with fashion and @bookworm0690 really came in clutch with these lyrics.

Summary: Eddie is a top model know for his temper tantrums. Steve is war photographer coming out of a traumatic experience by doing fashion photography. When hotheaded Eddie runs up against Steve's cool under pressure attitude, sparks fly.

Also I tend to make up fictional brands so I don't have to keep running for google every time I need a brand name for something.

~

Eddie Munson fought hard to be where he was. He had climbed up from the literal fucking gutter to being a top model. Fuck that bitch for ruining that title in the minds of the masses, making it meaningless, but he earned it.

He had full creative control over every little aspect of his shoots and everyone knew it. They knew what they were getting when they hired him. Every part of him was what they fucking paid for. His whole glam metal look was a package deal. His long hair, his tattoos, his style. That’s what they got when they hired him.

His current gig was St. John Whiskey, they were trying to appeal to the younger party crowd with their new canned cocktails. Eddie had tried them and they weren’t half bad. If someone served them at rave he went to, he would happy down several of the damn things. But he wouldn’t ask for them. Like ever.

Eddie briefly wondered who was going to shoot the ad, because they hadn’t told him before he signed on the dotted line. Not that it mattered, whoever they got would try to fob it off to someone else. That little detail made the little demon in Eddie curl up and purr. That companies would trip over themselves to get Eddie to model for them, while the actual photographers were fighting over who had to photograph him.

He arrived on set which was made up to look like a club, there were about a dozen extras all tarted up in club gear. To the right was his hair and makeup artist, Vickie Cameron, to his left was his manager next to a row of clothes that Eddie would choose from for the shoot.

Tucked behind a little partition were three photographers; Jonathan Byers, Argyle Ramirez, and Tommy Hagan. They were all playing roshambo. They were playing several games before Tommy groaned.

“Fuck!” he cursed and then walked over to get his kit. His assistant Carol immediately started setting up the lights and shit from his stuff while Argyle and Jonathan celebrated their win.

“Hello, boys,” Eddie said sweetly, causing everyone nearby to jump in the air.

Jonathan had the decency to look embarrassed, Argyle just grinned at him. Tommy on the other hand, his expression soured.

“Munson,” he said tersely. “Keep the tantrums to a minimum and maybe both of us will fucking survive this day.”

Eddie’s face transformed into a feral grin. “Do you job properly and there won’t be a tantrum to be had. Be the hack you usually are and I make no promises.”

Tommy surged forward, likely to start swinging, but Jonathan held him back. Eddie batted his eyelashes at him innocently, then he turned on his heel and made straight to Chrissy and wardrobe. Hopefully they had something good in there he could wear.

Eddie walked over to Chrissy as she was separating some shirts for him.

“They want a dance club vibe,” she said as she handed him four shirts, two jackets, and three pairs of pants. “Everything here has your style but with that club flare they’re looking for.”

He smirked. “Someone, somewhere is learning.”

She swatted at his ass. “Go get dressed, dick. Then hurry back so we can get your accessories picked out so we can get Vickie started on your hair and makeup.”

Eddie nodded and took his prizes to the dressing room. The first jacket was a blueish-black racer jacket and the other was a suit jacket with black sequins embroidered in a brocade pattern. The shirts were all button ups. Of the two black options, one was a soft cotton and the other was satin. The white shirt was of the same material of the first black shirt and the remaining shirt was a silky grey. The pants ranged from tight leather to ripped denim with a tuxedo pant thrown in for funsies.

He tried on several combinations before he settled on the leather jacket, the silver shirt, and tight leather pants. He padded back out to Chrissy who had an array of watches, necklaces, bracelets, chains, and shoes.

He immediately pulled out the shiny combat boots and started layering the jewelry just the way he liked it. Once he was satisfied, he sat down at Vickie’s chair and flipped his hair. “Miss DeMille, I’m ready for my close up!”

Vickie laughed. “Let’s get this pretty face even prettier for the camera.” She got to work on his hair first, washing and conditioning it to take the hair products it would take to tame Eddie’s famous curls.

By the time he was finally ready, so was Tommy and Carol.

She eyed him and then nodded approvingly. He matched the vibe they were going for, but stood out in a fashionable way.

“Ready when you are, princess,” Tommy sneered, pulling out a camera from one of his bags.

Eddie grinned at him and then got into position. Tommy called out poses and shots while Carol managed the lenses, cameras and filters. Things were going well until they weren’t.

“Can someone please tell me why this asshole extra keeps standing in my fucking light?!” he growled.

Tommy stood up from where he had been crouched on the floor. “There is no one in your light, I’m literally taking the pictures and there is not single shade over you.”

“Not that light, dumbass,” Eddie snarled, “the light from the disco ball. It’s supposed to be glittering on my face to bring in the club vibe but some asshole is literal blocking it.”

Tommy went through the memory card and went back as far twenty frames. “Shit, he’s right.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m right, so are you going to get this asshole to stop mugging the shots or am I going to have to lock myself in my dressing room until you do?”

“I don’t even know who it is,” Tommy snapped back. “How am I supposed to find a needle in a fucking haystack?”

Eddie threw his arms in the air. “The disco ball is there!” He pointed behind where he was sitting at a table and to the left. “So it’s obviously NOT the people to my right or in the foreground! Use your fucking head!”

He stood up and stalked toward dressing room, leaving a path of destruction in his wake of knocked over chairs and people glaring at him as he pushed by them.

It took Tommy and Carol about an hour to find out who had been blocking the disco ball’s light and coach Eddie out his dressing room.

All the news articles blew up that Eddie Munson threw a fit on the set of his most recent photo shoot again. Talking about what a diva he was and how unhinged he was.

Chrissy sat him down to talk about the articles. “You probably shouldn’t have thrown the chairs, let’s be fair. But all the pictures that were taken after you came back were the best shots Tommy took.”

Eddie sneered. “They were in the way and I didn’t throw them, I tried pushing them out the way and they got tangled up and they fell. I just needed to be somewhere else in that moment or more than just chairs would have been flying.”

Chrissy sighed. She knew. She knew better than anyone how much space Eddie needed when he got into his head.

“Well,” she said, “we’ll ride it out like we always do. If Tom Cruise can come out of coach jumping with a career intact, you will come of this one just fine, too.”

Eddie threw his head head back and buried his hands into his hair. He counted backward from twenty until he got his thoughts under control.

“I wish Carol was the photographer,” he said mournfully. “She actually seems to understand the artistry behind taking the perfect shot.”

“And we both know she’s never going to a chance,” Chrissy said ruefully, rolling her eyes. “Because she’s a woman. But it wasn’t her who found the extra who was getting in the way of the shots.”

That made Eddie sit up. “Yeah, then who did?”

Chrissy shrugged. “Some friend of Tommy’s who was visiting. He’s some hot shot war photographer that Tommy met in art school and was in town for a couple of days for some award show.”

“Maybe hire him next time,” Eddie said with a snort.

~

When Eddie heard that it was going to be Argyle Ramirez doing the shoot for the Eva Laurent cologne that he was mildly annoyed. He wasn’t the incompetent asshole that Tommy was, but he was far too laid back for his tastes.

Eddie got to the set which was in Argyle’s studio. Everything was white and would be lighted to the appropriate colors. In the middle was a single black leather chair; one of those overstuffed kind.

There were about a half dozen people milling around and that brought him up short.

“Um...” he said glancing over at Chrissy briefly. “I thought it was going to be a closed set?”

Argyle looked up at him with that hazy, dopey smile of his. “The man of the hour has arrived. Awesome!” He looked around at the other people in the room. “Don’t worry my man, once you’re ready to drop robe, most of these people will have cleared out.”

“Most?” Eddie asked, trying not squirm.

“Sure,” Argyle said, blinking at him in confusion. “I’ve got to have my assistants to move things around and shit. But everyone else will have cleared out.”

Eddie bit on his lip. He couldn’t argue with that. Though he had tried. Several times before. Whenever he pushed back on being naked in front of strangers he was told that he was baring his ass to the world, what was a few extra people on the day of the shoot.

He went to go get his hair and makeup done, with Vickie trying to ease her nerves but talking about her long distance girlfriend who also did hair, but always needed help with her smokey eye makeup.

Eddie let her chatter wash over him and he relaxed, getting out of his head and into his body. His body was his job, his sanctuary, and his weapon all rolled into one. He cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, releasing the last bit of tension in his shoulders.

When he came out of hair and makeup he was pleased to find there were only two other people there besides Argyle. One knelt by a bag, while the other stood by the lights.

That was more than he would have liked, but he had to let it slide. He knew that there were some photographers who had full on teams and all they did was take the pictures. But Eddie had it in his rider that if they wanted him to model for them they couldn’t use those photographers.

He was about down to his underwear when Argyle came bursting into the room. He shrieked and pulled his pants over his crotch.

“Don’t you knock?!” Eddie roared in outrage, clutching his pants close to his body as a shield.

Argyle held his hands up and backed out. “Sorry, dude, I thought hadn’t gotten undressed yet.” He closed the door.

Eddie could tell the man was waiting awkwardly outside so he hurried to get undressed and throw on the black satin robe he was given. He tied the sash tightly around his waist and slid the slippers on his feet. He slowly opened the door and peeked out to make sure it was just Argyle waiting for him.

He stepped out into the hallway and Argyle looked up from his phone.

“You ready now?” he asked.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but if you had been like a minute later or two minutes sooner, I wouldn’t have been in the middle of getting undressed.”

“I’m going to be seeing you naked in five minutes anyway,” Argyle groused. “I really don’t see what the problem is.”

Eddie bit his tongue. He wanted to say the difference was consent, but it seemed like nothing would penetrate the thick fog of weed smoke around the photographer’s head. He just strolled past, his head held high.

Once he had warmed up enough he dropped the robe and the assistant in charge of the lenses rushed forward to grab it.

He sprawled on the leather chair, the material sticking to his ass.

After a few minutes of struggling to get comfortable he finally snapped.

“Is there anyway we can put something down on the chair so my skin isn’t being peeled off with every move I make?”

One of the assistants, Eddie couldn’t be assed to care which one, rushed forward with a long golden drape and laid it over the leather chair. Then when Eddie sat back on it she draped it over his body artistically, making the shot more provocative and less in your face nudity.

“Good thinking, Karla,” Argyle huffed as he knelt to take the next shot. “Pull his hair out a little bit so that it lays flat over the drape.”

Karla hurried to do as she was told. The shoot went more smoothly after that, but he could tell Argyle was annoyed for not having thought of the drape first.

Eddie didn’t spend the whole shoot covered by the drape, but it added something special to the ad that the Eva Laurent people loved.

But Argyle told everyone that Eddie had been reluctant to disrobe in front of people and that’s why the drape was added.

It pissed Eddie off, but with people wanting to believe the worst of him, trying to refute it was like pissing in the wind.

But he made sure to tell the Eva Laurent people that it was Karla’s idea for the drape on his way out, just to fuck with him back.

~

Tag List: NINE SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @chaotic-waffle

[flippinpancakes64]

The Wobbly Third Wheel

Summary: You and Steven have been going strong for a couple of months now. The only bump in the road is Marc, who for some reason, can't even seem to be cordial with you...

Marc Spector x Reader-centric, fluff and a lot of angst, mostly just a look at Marc's character

Note: I'm finally branching out past Twilight someone take a picture omg. But this is my first try writing for something different, so hopefully it goes well. I saw a Moon Knight edit on TikTok and now I'm back in my MK phase so... Anyways Enjoy!

In the beginning, you told yourself it was just him getting used to you.

Steven already told you all about Marc's past. His history with his mom which led to Steven's creation, the whole situation with Layla, Khonshu, being Moon Knight, basically everything.

So you weren't all that surprised when the grumpy American didn't exactly want to be your best friend. That's fair after all. You never asked to be best friends.

What you did ask, though, was for something like a mutual respect. A peaceful coexistence where you could both exist in your own spaces and interact in a kind way if you needed to.

Only, Marc seemed hellbent on, well, giving you hell.

He would go out of his way to order food for himself and not you, even if you were sitting on the couch right across from him. There have been a couple of times where you and Steven were out on a date, and Marc suddenly fronted. He would walk off, leaving you stranded and frantically searching for your boyfriend without any explanation or apology later on.

But the worst were the nights.

You had spent the night at Steven's place again, and it was currently the middle of the night. The moon was high in the sky, and London was quiet. You two were intertwined like vines, one of your legs between Steven's, his arms wrapped around your body in turn. It was hard to distinguish where you ended and he began.

It was nice, everything was peaceful.

Until Marc woke up.

He slowly blinked his eyes open, scanning their bedroom for anything that might have caused him to wake up. Finding none, he looked down at you.

And promptly got up.

That was always one of the worst things he did. Whenever you and Steven would be cuddling, or hanging out, or even just talking, if Marc fronted, he would always leave like there was a fire. Never an explanation, never a warning, just a complete tonal shift.

You know the boys can't necessarily control who comes forward, when they do, or how long they stay out. You know they have some level of control over it, but not a whole lot. And the way Marc looks at you when he suddenly fronts definitely leads you to believe that he's not the one behind the switch.

The surprise, followed by annoyance and slight disgust. His signature look whenever he saw you.

Marc roughly twisted out of your hold, not really paying any mind to if it woke you up or not. He sat up on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through his hair and sighing as if he just got off a long shift.

Truth be told, he doesn't really know why he pushes you away like he does. He thinks you're nice enough. And clearly you love Steven. But there's just something about it, about even entertaining the idea of holding someone else close just like how he used to hold Layla.

Steven sometimes catches him fidgeting with his bare ring finger, running his fingertips over the indent left by his wedding band from all those years ago.

Layla moved on a long time ago, so why can't he? He doesn't know, and he doesn't really want to look too far deep into himself to figure it out.

You moved on the bed, groaning softly as you reached out for him. No, not him- Steven. You were reaching out for Steven. And he doesn't really want to think about the way his heart clenched when he thought of that.

"Steven," you groaned, your eyes blinking open sleepily as you turned to face him on the bed. His back was to you, but you recognized the tense line of his shoulders. The way his head was perpetually hung low like he was always guilty. Always a poor puppy waiting for another kick to land.

"Not Steven," he responded, his voice low and quiet. He wanted to be gruffer, to make himself sound tougher than he really did in that moment. But his body betrayed him, something it's been doing for years now.

"Marc," you whispered. He could hear you shuffling around on the bed, and when he glanced over his shoulder, he saw that you were now sitting up. No closer to him than before, still giving him the space he needed. He appreciated that.

"Just... just go back to bed," he sighed, running his hand over his face tirelessly. It was too late for this bullshit. Too late to be having a late night conversation with his alternate personality's partner who he's slowly starting to develop feelings for too.

"Are you alright?" you asked, your voice infinitely caring. So caring and kind and understanding that it grated on him.

"I'm fine. Go back to bed," he grumbled, moving to stand up.

"Wait," you called, grabbing his arm before he could go too far. "Please, can we just talk?"

"We have nothing to talk about. I'm not your boyfriend," he gritted, his voice tight.

He could hear your tired sigh, and he felt his heart clench at being the source of your sadness.

"I know you're not, but you're a part of him. A big part of him. Please, can't we just talk for a little bit? I'm tired of this passive-aggressive act you've had going on for weeks now," you pleaded. When he turned back to look at you, he was met with those sincere, loving eyes. The same ones he's seen through Steven's. A patient, caring gaze that you save only for those you love most. And he's part of that.

He huffs, trying his best to play the part of the annoyed, grumpy man he's always portrayed himself to be. "Fine. Talk," he grits, sitting back down on the bed and facing you.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. You realized this might be the only chance you have to change things, to at least convince Marc to be civil.

"Okay. Look, Marc, I'm not asking you to cuddle with me, or to kiss me or dote on me like Steven does. You're not him, we're not dating, I know that," you started, looking deep into his eyes. Marc hates to admit how his chest tightened at that, how he had to fight back the urge to do exactly that.

"All I'm asking is that we can coexist. I love Steven, and I want to be able to spend time with him without feeling like I'm intruding on your space," you continued.

"You are intruding on my space. This is my apartment, this is my bed, you're wearing my clothes," Marc grits before he can stop himself. The way you sigh and bow your head afterward makes him want to hurt someone. Mostly himself.

"I know... I'm... I'm sorry. I promise, I don't want to make you uncomfortable. That's what I'm trying to get at. But I can't work with you if you don't work with me," you pleaded.

He wants to scream. He wants to tell you that you're always welcome, that you don't need to work around him. But he can't. His pride is too fragile, his ego too small. To turn around now would be to wound himself.

"Well I don't know what you want me to do," he settled on instead. A non-answer he always gave Layla when they argued. It had the same effectiveness now as it did back then, which is not much.

"All I want is some communication. I'm not very good at picking up the differences between you two yet. And sometimes it happens so quickly I can't catch it. It's jarring, you know? To be cuddling your boyfriend one minute and then the next minute he just gets up and leaves with no explanation," you said, your voice dripping with worry and sorrow.

"So what do you want me to say?" he gritted. He needs to backpedal, he needs to go back, but he can't stop himself. "'Hey, it's not Steven anymore, so fuck off,'? Is that what you want me to say? 'Hey, it's Marc, get out of my goddamn apartment, I don't want you here and have never wanted you here'? Do you want me to tell you that you're a nuisance? That you take away from my limited alone time because you're always fucking here? That I can't get a moment's peace?"

The look on your face told him everything he needed to know. The lines between your brows, the slight purse of your lips, the wobble of your chin.

"If... if that's what you want to say, then go for it," you whispered, barely hiding the hurt in your voice. No, no, no. He doesn't want you to cry, he's never wanted you to cry.

But this is just who he is.

He's Marc Spector. Moon Knight. The guy who always manages to fuck up everything good that comes his way. The guy who ruined not only his life, but has managed to fuck up Steven's too. The one his broken brain made to be the good one, the one who was supposed to be happy and live a good life away from all of their trauma, he pulled him into it too. And now they're both broken. Everything he touches breaks, and clearly, you're no exception.

Your hand on his shoulder that pulled him back down into the bed, the one that urged him to keep talking, that was when fate was set. And the proof is right in front of him.

The love of his life, his second chance at happiness, crumbling to pieces in front of his eyes.

And yet all he could do was watch.

A tear slipped down your cheek, falling from those eyes that hold so much love, so much patience. He knows if he watched long enough, all the love that you held in there for him would disappear too, so he looked away.

He didn't say anything after that, he just got back up off the bed and stalked out to the kitchen. You were left to tremble silently, to reel and mull over what he just said.

The next day, Steven told you that he didn't mean it. He reassured you that Marc doesn't hate you, but you don't believe it. From your eyes, Marc has only ever pushed you away.

This is what always happens. Marc breaks your heart over and over again, constantly proving that he doesn't love you.

But when it's the dead of night, you don't notice your boyfriend's arms tightening around you. You don't hear the whispered confessions of love that slip from his mouth, missing that signature British accent. You don't feel the hesitant kisses he places on your cheeks and forehead, ghosts of affection that he believes aren't supposed to be there.

Marc thrives here, in the shroud of darkness where no one, not even Khonshu, can see the love in his eyes. No one can hear the vulnerability in his voice. No one sees the tremble of his hands or the reverence they hold. And no one, not even Steven, can feel the longing for love inside of him.

[scary-grace]

pretty please will you write [bouquet] but reader gives flowers to tomura <33333

Thank you for the prompt! This got angsty and I apologize. Hopefully I can redeem myself with the third prompt! Post-canon, 2.1k, angst.

memory garden

The bouquet you buy gets bigger every year.

You’re in the interminable line at the florist’s, you and a bunch of guys in business suits and wedding rings, identical guilty looks on their faces, and somehow your bouquet is the biggest one. Not for the first time since you picked it up, you wonder if you’ve overdone it. White roses. Red roses – deep red, not bright red. Periwinkle-blue buddleia, ferns, baby’s breath, and ivy. It’s a lot of flowers. A lot of money. And it’s not like the person they’re for is going to appreciate them.

But it’s one day a year. One bouquet, and it’s the only bouquet he’s going to get. You kiss your pastry budget goodbye for the next week and wait for your turn at the checkout counter, feeling like shit for even thinking of buying something smaller. So what if you’ve got the biggest bouquet in line? It’s worth it. You don’t need anybody else to understand, which is a good thing. You barely understand the impulse yourself.

The last few Valentine’s Days, it’s been bright and cold and sunny, a picturesque winter day. Today it’s raining, and you check the forecast on the train with increasing dismay. It’s going to be a swamp by the time you get there, and you’ll be going home cold and wet and muddy. You’re already tired. It was an awful week at work, but when isn’t it, really? You work in Homicide, and in spite of society’s supposed great leaps forward since the war ended, people are still in the business of killing each other. If you didn’t have your quirk, you’d work anywhere else.

But you do have your quirk – Red Cap, which gives you a heads-up and flashback every time you walk over a spot where someone died a violent death. Working Homicide really is the only job you’re good for, although in the aftermath of the war, you were embedded with the national coroner’s office, walking the battlefields to identify victims, perpetrators, and causes of death. It’s not what you want to do with your life, but it pays. Enough that you could probably stand to get more than one bouquet, one day a year. But there’s only one day of the year where you can buy a bunch of flowers without anybody asking why.

As you’re putting your phone away, one of your friends texts you about a last-minute blind date – some friend of her boyfriend’s whose date fell through, who’s going to be a total wet blanket and ruin their night if nobody distracts him. Will you go on a pity date with him? You’re not his type and he’s not yours, but all you have to do is keep him busy for a little while. With an offer like that, how can you refuse? You text back one-handed. Sorry. I have plans.

doing what?? I know you’re single

I have plans, you type again. Even if your plan was to get plastered and forget about tomorrow, you’re not going to go on a date where you’re so obviously the consolation prize. And you wouldn’t be that much of a prize, either – once people hear about your job, and your quirk, they’re usually not interested. Sorry. I hope you can work something out!

The exclamation point feels forced. You tuck your phone away and stare out the window at the rain, the bunch of flowers rustling in your shaky hands.

The view out the window reminds you just how much Japan has changed. It’s been almost eight years since the war, and everywhere that matters to anybody has been rebuilt, bigger and better than before. Every city’s skyline bristles with skyscrapers, every highway has wider lanes – and in between are places that aren’t important enough to merit a rebuild, places that have been patched back together haphazardly or been allowed to fall into disrepair. Bigger cities, empty villages. More pretty city parks, fewer nature reserves. And every so often you’ll look out the window and see a dark shadow across the landscape, a scar that will never heal. Or so they say. People say time heals everything, and sometimes, you almost believe them.

Once you reach your destination, you’ve still got a ways to go. This part is uncomfortable. It always is, not because the terrain once you’re off the main road is rough, but because everywhere you step is a place someone breathed their last. This is the final battlefield from the Villain War. You’d say the number of deaths that occurred here is countless, except you have counted. That’s how you know where to go.

The rain soaks through your clothes as you pick your way across the barren, muddy field. At one edge of it there’s a shrine to all the heroes who fell, not just here but in the entire war, and on important days, there are people queuing up to leave offerings and pay their respects. You keep walking, hating the way your feet squelch in the mud. The longer you stay in touch with a particular piece of earth, the more information you pick up about the death that occurred there, and you saw enough the first time.

The death site you’re looking for is at the far edge of the field, pushed up into the shadow of the mountain that rears up nearby. It’s unmarked, of course. It would be unattended even if it wasn’t. No one mourns the wicked, after all, and Shigaraki Tomura, the Symbol of Fear, was as wicked as they come. Or so they say.

When you found his death site, what you witnessed through your quirk brought you to your knees. That’s not how it usually goes for you, how it usually went by that point. Almost every person who dies is scared while it happens. A lot of them are confused. A lot of them are angry or hurt or betrayed. But none of them are all of those things at once, and empty and lost and hollow at the same time, and while you’ve walked over many death sites, Shigaraki’s is the only one that’s ever taken you down. And when you got back up, you couldn’t see him as the monster he was any longer.

You thought reading the book the surviving members of the League of Villains wrote would help clear your head, or at least remind you who you were really losing sleep over. When that didn’t work, you went to visit the book’s author in prison. Spinner wanted to talk about Shigaraki, his best friend and his only friend, but nothing he said matched what you saw. Deku, who killed Shigaraki, never talks about him at all, and you can’t explain to anyone that you’re haunted by the last moments of a villain who was horrifying and tragic in almost equal measures. So you had to find something else to do.

You reach the far side of the field and come to a stop. You moved a rock a few years ago to mark the death site, so you wouldn’t have to step on it and retraumatize yourself every year, and you stop a meter or so back from where you know the edge lies. And then, like always, you hit a wall. You could keep doing this for the rest of your life, and you’ll still never know the right thing to say as you set down the bouquet. The last few years, you’ve just set it down and left.

But that thought’s in your head again – one bouquet, one day of the year. He doesn’t have a shrine or a grave marker, and you’re the only one who knows exactly where he died. If you only got one visitor every year, you’d want them to say something. Anything.

Anything, from you, is usually a bad idea. “I’m still working at Homicide. The murder rate hasn’t dropped back to pre-war levels yet. I go walking over two or three crime scenes a week, and none of them have ever been as awful as what I felt when I walked over yours.”

So what, you can imagine him saying. You get to walk away. This was my whole life, and I died as I lived. Do you expect me to feel sorry for you or something? “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. That’s not why I’m saying that. I just – I wanted you to know that it really was that bad. All the pain you felt, all that anger – it’s unbearable. I can see why you’d do anything to get away.”

You wouldn’t do what Shigaraki did, you don’t think. Then again, you don’t have that kind of power. The only person you can torment with your quirk is yourself. “I don’t know why I come out here. Or why I bring flowers. You probably hated flowers,” you say. You can imagine his response to that, too: Yeah, no shit. “I never met you, but I can’t unsee what I saw. I wish I’d never seen it.”

You feel that way about everything you’ve seen and felt through your quirk, but this especially. “I wish I’d never seen it, but I did see it. And it would be wrong to look away.”

That was something you remember from that first flashback, the one that laid you out in the filth on the battlefield. The way the emptiness inside him yawned wide, a gaping void no amount of rage and destruction could fill, a desperate howl that still echoes through your mind –  look at me, notice me, save me – a cry for help that went forever unanswered. It’s too late for Shigaraki Tomura. Whatever you could possibly do rings hollow, and he’ll never see it, anyway. The longer you think about it, the more miserable you get. You need to go, before you spend another Valentine’s Day crying on the train home.

But to leave the bouquet by your makeshift marker, you have to cross the death site. As you hesitate, you hear that voice in your head, cobbled together from every newscast of the destruction of Jaku City or the final battle that took place here: This was my whole life. You get to walk away. You steep yourself and cross onto the death site, and like always, it hits you like a knockout punch. All you can do is stagger to the marker, set the bouquet in its mason jar down at the foot of the stone, and stagger back out, your eyes burning, struggling to breathe.

You’re doubled over, gasping for air, when you hear the voice. “I didn’t think you’d come this year.”

Your stomach lurches. You stagger backwards, foot-first into another deathsite, and struggle to get your balance, searching for a safe place to stand. “Because of the rain,” the voice continues, raspy and rough. His voice. “How long are you going to keep this up?”

You’ve always thought your quirk might snap your mind someday. You just didn’t expect it to happen like this. If you’re already crazy, you might as well answer him. “Until I stop seeing it.”

“Forever.”

It’s been eight years. Nothing else has clung to you like this. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Forever,” the voice repeats. “I never stopped seeing it, either.”

You’re talking to a dead person. A ghost. You’ve walked over hundreds of death sites, and you’ve never met a ghost before. But if anybody was going to become a ghost, it would be him, wouldn’t it? Unhappy, unable to let go, unmissed and unmourned by anyone but you, and you can barely be called a mourner when the most you do is show up with flowers one day a year. He probably hates flowers, and hates you, like he hated everything before. “I’m sorry,” you say. Shigaraki Tomura’s ghost makes a questioning sound. “I’m sorry no one saved you. I wish it wasn’t too late.”

You turn and leave without another look at the death site, and Shigaraki Tomura’s voice follows you. “Maybe it’s not.”

You’re losing it. You really must be. As soon as you get home, you’re taking a leave of absence from your horrible job and going to therapy, so you can learn how to live with your quirk and not let it cling to you and leave a bouquet at a supervillain’s death site without having a psychotic break. Maybe it’s not too late. What does that mean? It means you’re going crazy. That’s all this was. You walk stiff-legged across the battlefield, sicker with every step, never looking back. If you see his ghost hovering over the death site, you’re going to lose your mind for good.

Curiosity gets the better of you, though. You look back just once, once there are no more death sites to walk over and the only memories in your head belong to you. Shigaraki’s death site is easy to miss if you don’t know what to look for, but you know what to look for – and even from this distance, you can see that the bouquet you left for him is gone.