#Him trying to live up to her expectations of romance

[zepskies]

Ooooh I LOVE the movie RED!!! ❤️ Karl Urban's fight with Bruce Willis is so freakin' iconic. 🤩 I'm already in, babes. Let's dive in.~

Ahh the "hear me out" thing is so relatable lmao. But Marlin?! Really?! 🤣🤣

Four times you’d fallen asleep on your computer and had the imprint of the keyboard on your cheek, three times you’d had a mental breakdown and decided to change your major promising yourself that you were sure you could make it doing freelance whatever the fuck sounded good at that moment, and you couldn’t count the number of times that you’d gone to the library to study only to get distracted by whatever else was better than studying for a physics test.

Oh God, you're giving me Vietnam War-level flashbacks to undergrad when I was stuck until 12 am at the library working on essays and shiz. 🫠

“And I raise you Kerchak from Tarzan!” “The daddy gorilla?” Liza asks, leaning into her fiance, Matt, where he lounges back against the faded maroon leather beside her. 

GIRL PLSSS. 💀💀💀 Not "daddy gorilla." 🤣

The stranger sitting at the bar is everything she suggested and more. He’s the kind of handsome that didn’t exist outside of the stack of communal romance novels that sat on the bookshelf in your living room and served as the perfect reminder of how single you were. 

Okay, lmfao. I'ma need you to stop calling me out like this. 😂😂

But I so love the description of Russell -- he's a man in a sea of man-boys our age, and there's a distinct difference. 😏

“Hi.” You smile shyly at the man when you meet his gaze. “Hi.” He rumbles with an easy smile while the green of his eyes flashes in the neon sign hanging behind the bar. His voice catches you off guard. You weren't expecting it to be so smooth, silk over your skin, but also like the rough drag of the ocean against sand as it pulls it out to sea. “Hi.” You say again as all other thoughts evaporate from you mind and you fight the urge to facepalm. 

LMFAO. Reading this snippet in context is of course even better. I'm dying but also she would so be me in this situation. 😝

“Rain.” Despite the last few seconds of you feeling so awkward it made you want to sink into the floor like quicksand and the fact that your throat is still burning from when the beer went down the wrong pipe, your mouth quirks up in a smile. “The horse from Spirit?”

OMG YESSSSS. Lmfao Rain was beautiful! And I love that you referenced one of my favorite movies. 😆😆 Totally agree that Nala had bedroom eyes. And I raise you Robin Hood from the Disney movie! They did NOT have to draw him that sexy.

“Shut up.” You laugh and raise your hand to hit him on the shoulder, but he catches it with his. The contact of the rough palm of his hand in yours makes electricity zing through your body, bringing a wave of heat coursing behind it.  “That’s not very nice. Keep trying to hit me like that and I might have to take you to court, Sweetheart.” He winks.

😐😧🤭

Miss ma'am!! Don't make me bring out the Out of Order gif again! I had to fan myself when he literally caught her hand. Dear Lord. 🫠

Also, the way I was so shocked and literally laughed out loud at the way she headbutted him. 🤣 Honestly that would probably be me trying to flirt. A+ casting 😂👌🏽

But again, that spice and the way he kissed her melted me like the Wicked Witch of the West. ❤️‍🔥

“Seriously babe.” Kay begins to back away. “Be safe. Because the last thing you want to pass right now is a pregnancy test.” 

lmaooo sage advice! 😂

How could I have been so stupid? He’s going to kill me here and I’ll never know what that physics test did to my GPA.  You frown slightly at that thought. It really is weird what goes through your head when you think you’re going to die.  “Please, let me explain.” He says again, eyes wide and filled with an emotion that looks surprisingly like regret.

LOL I love her inner monologue. She's so adorkable, but I'm already getting the RED vibes omggg. 🙏🏽

His body lays over yours, curving protectively around you, and his arm is behind you head so when you hit the ground, your head doesn’t.

It's the little things I love loll. 🤌🏽

“Calm down Derek Jeter! I’m not going to murder you, please stop saying that.” “Why?” He frowns and shrugs his shoulders. “Because it’s hurting my feelings a little bit.” 

Not me feeling sorry for him right now when she's well within her right to try and beat him with a pink baseball bat. 🤣🤣🤣

I was smiling so hard while reading the rest of this. I was actually so disappointed to get to the end! This was one helluva meet cute, hun. 💜

The thing about your one-shots is that they feel like the start of a series--of an amazing adventure that's about to start. I know you have probably a million WIPs at this point lol, but this does feel like a RED kind of movie and I would love to see more of these two if you ever feel so inspired. ✨

I Can Explain!

Pairing: Russell Shaw x f!reader, Reader POV

Prompt: "How Do You Know Where I Live?"

Requested by: @vixaaa

Summary:  When you meet a gorgeous green-eyed stranger at a bar and agree to go home with him, everything goes off the rails and you're strapped in for the ride.

Tropes: Awkward Rom-Com? Forced Proximity? Protective Russell.

Word Count: 10.6 K (But You'll Laugh The Whole Time)

Warnings: An Unhinged Game of "Hear Me Out," References to Sex, Sexual innuendo, Little bit of self-deprecating thought (reader), Reader is kinda awkward and clumsy, Gunfire, Weapons, Talk of Murder, Shooting?, Brief Description of Torture, Brief Description of Murder, Terror, Fear, Cursing, Kissing, I think that's everything? I promise this one is a rom-com despite all the warnings. 😅

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Prompt Celebration Masterlist

A/N: Hey guys! This is another wonderful prompt request that I got for my prompt celebration from the enchanting @vixaaa! This one is based a little bit on the movies "Knight and Day" and "RED." If you've never seen either of those, go and watch them right now. They are some of my favorites!

P.S: Yes, this is the one I've been writing that has just been making me wheeze/cackle laugh the whole time I wrote it...

“Alright, hear me out… Gil, the angelfish from Finding Nemo. There is no way in hell he was made for kids.” Your friend Liza says wobbling slightly on the plush leather bench seat of the booth before taking a shot of vodka. Her peacock blue No. 2 hair shimmers like a beacon in the dimly lit bar. 

“That’s low hanging fruit.” Kay snorts from your left while leaning heavily into your shoulder, the smell of her vanilla perfume wafting up with the movement. “That scar? The tragic backstory? And voiced by Wilem Defoe? Sign me up.”

You giggle into the shot glass clasped in your hand before you knock it back, face scrunching at the taste and pleasant burn.

The “Hear Me Out” drinking game your two best friends proposed to clear your head from the nuclear level bombing of an exam you just took in your Physics One class, had been successful so far. You couldn’t remember any of the questions from the test that made you scream obscenities into the strawberry shaped pillows on the couch in your living room earlier. Exactly where the two of them had found you when they got back to your shared apartment at the end of the day.

The live music in the crowded bar thrummed through your veins and the shots were giving you just the right amount of buzz to feel more carefree than you had in the past week. The week that you’d spent approximately one million hours studying for the test and trying to memorize all the formulas that looked exactly the same. 

Four times you’d fallen asleep on your computer and had the imprint of the keyboard on your cheek, three times you’d had a mental breakdown and decided to change your major promising yourself that you were sure you could make it doing freelance whatever the fuck sounded good at that moment, and you couldn’t count the number of times that you’d gone to the library to study only to get distracted by whatever else was better than studying for a physics test.

Spoiler alert, there are a lot of things that are.

But you knew you were screwed the second you saw the first question and the rest of them had only been the final nails in the coffin that was the dream of getting an “A” in the class before the semester was over. 

The glimmering sheen of hope at the end of the semester you once had, was ebbing to a dim lantern being swung by a lighthouse keeper in a hurricane, hence the large tray of vodka sitting prettily on the water ringed table in front of you.

You were sure to regret every single shot, but your next exam was two days away and you didn’t want to think about it yet, not when the shadow of the last was poking you in the back with a pencil like someone looking for your final piece of gum.

For a Tuesday night, Duke’s, the bar the three of you frequented so often that the rotating circle of bartenders knew you all by name, was crowded.

There was the familiar glow of the neon signs posted on every wall, a new band performing a set on the small stage in the corner, a collection of screaming girls in the front row of the crowd snapping photos and drooling over the base player, a group of frat guys shouting obscenities at a tv blasting a football game, and a few patrons trying to unwind from a long day while nursing multi colored drinks and sitting sporadically around the crowded bar while the bartender of the hour leaned against the counter and tried to hear orders people shouted over the din. 

You would have been more than happy to spend the evening on the couch eating a greasy pizza and drinking margaritas back at the apartment, but Kay and Liza refused to let you rot on the couch. 

The three of you had been inseparable since freshman year when you’d been assigned as roommates together. Liza was an art major hoping to illustrate book covers one day, Kay was a hardworking pre-med student, and you were… undecided. Physics 1 had been the idea of your advisor, who after a year of trying to get you to declare a major was close to throwing in the towel, you believed that he was using Physics 1 as a form of payback for driving him almost to the point of early retirement. 

“Okay, okay I see you.” Kay giggles, before grabbing a fresh shot. Her long black hair is pulled back from her face with a claw clip, but a few pieces bob around her head with the movement of her head to the music. “And I raise you Kerchak from Tarzan!”

“The daddy gorilla?” Liza asks, leaning into her fiance, Matt, where he lounges back against the faded maroon leather beside her. 

There was a half full glass of beer sitting in front of him, one he’d ordered when he found out what everyone else at your table was drinking. But he’d been a good sport so far despite all of his suggestions to the game being so obvious there was no reason for him to defend his choice and the rest of you mocking him endlessly for it. 

“Sweetie, he could be my daddy any day of the week.” Kay winks and throws back her shot. 

“You’re disgusting.” Liza rolls her eyes, refusing to take a shot to agree with Kay. 

“Hey! What happened to ‘we listen and we don’t judge?’” You interrupt, putting your arm around Kay who holds up a middle finger in answer to Liza’s taunt.

“Where was that when I said Jessica Rabbit two turns ago?” Matt grouses from his side of the table, crossing his large arms over his chest. His blond hair had tumbled out of the bun at the back of his neck to cover the grass stain on the collar of his jersey. He’d come straight from practice when Liza called. 

And then Kay and you had to suffer through the long make out session the two of them had when they reunited as if they’d been separated by war for fifty years and not two hours. They were recently engaged and you loved Matt, which is why you’d let them make out for exactly thirty seconds before Kay and you started making exaggerated gagging noises while they kissed. 

Kay’s boyfriend hadn’t been able to get out of work, but Kay was going to walk to the coffee shop inside the library to pick him up when the tray of shots in the center of the table sat empty. Usually you’d worry about that sort of thing, your friend walking alone on campus at night, but because Kay had the highest tolerance out of all of you, Matt included, and a total badass who welcomed the challenge of anyone who tried to test her, you were willing to let it slide. 

That and the three of you tracked each other’s location with your phones.

“Because Jessica Rabbit isn’t a hear me out! Everyone knows that she’s super sexy!” You argue. “She doesn’t fit the criteria of this game!”

“She’s right babe.” Liza says, squeezing his arm with a sympathetic smile. “But it’s okay. I love that you’re a basic bitch.”

“But she’s animated!” Matt exclaims, obviously confused.

“So? Flynn Ryder is animated and he’s every woman’s dream.” You shrug, picking up a glass to take your turn.

You begin to shuffle through the mental file folder you have on characters who possessed “the energy” that made them so attractive. Truthfully, Kay and Liza had already said most of the ones you were thinking.

“You want to talk about every woman’s dream?” Kay smirks, her eyes flick over to the bar. “Check out green eyes over there. Holy shit, I’d let him rock me like a hurricane all day and all night!” 

“I’ll be sure to tell Sean, your boyfriend of three years-” You begin to say, but Kay pinches your cheeks between her fingers and turns your head so you can see who she’s talking about. 

Oh.

The stranger sitting at the bar is everything she suggested and more. He’s the kind of handsome that didn’t exist outside of the stack of communal romance novels that sat on the bookshelf in your living room and served as the perfect reminder of how single you were. 

The man is taller and broader than any of the so-called boys you went to class with each day, his tight fitting dark t-shirt pulling up over muscular arms that rippled with taunt muscles and were decorated with smoky tattoos curling beneath the ink colored sleeves. His chocolate colored hair is long and pushed back over his head, but a few strands hang forward to frame a well defined jaw covered in a thick dusting of facial hair.

Your throat suddenly gets very tight. 

The man’s gaze is focused on you, the green of his eyes brilliant, crinkled just around the edges with his smile. He winks and your entire face takes on the identity of a strawberry with your flush.

“Holy shit!” Kay nudges you. “You have to go over there.”

“What?” You squeak. “Are you insane? That guy is-”

“The kind of man who would make you forget all about that physics test?” Liza raises an eyebrow.

“The kind of man who would break the laws of physics with you all night long?” Kay adds. “Babe, come on, it's been months for you. Why don’t you go over there and say hi?”

“No way.” You shake your head vehemently, hyperventilating a little bit at the thought of going up to a complete stranger. 

You were not the confident girl in the group that did that. Kay was. It was exactly how she had met her boyfriend Sean three years ago, by using a cheesy pick up line that made him snort so hard he had beer coming out of his nose. Liza wasn’t much better. She’d met Matt in this very bar when her heel broke and she stumbled into where he was sitting with his friends at the bar. 

And the truth was it had been a few months since the last relationship (if you could call it that) fizzled out… and with both of your friends in relationships you often were the awkward fifth wheel. It wasn’t that you didn’t like your friends' boyfriends, Matt and Sean were great and they always did their best to make you feel comfortable whenever you were out with everyone, but you were kinda tired of being the spare tire.

“I don’t think we should be encouraging her to go off somewhere with a random man from a bar that she just met.” Matt says with a frown. 

Matt often held the braincell in your friend group and was the one who was more focused on making sure that everyone was safe. He was the one who followed up with a text whenever someone left to go home, the one who made sure that everyone stayed together when you were out late, and was usually the designated driver. 

“You’re such a hypocrite.” Liza boops Matt on the nose. “You were a random man that I’d never met before. And if I’m not mistaken we met in this very bar.”

“That’s different.” Matt sighs, but he leans towards Liza, the tension dissipating from his shoulders as he looks at her and his frown slips into a smile. 

They were one of those couples that no one ever thought would work. Liza was the carefree art major with no plan in the world and Matt was the All American, blue-eyed, blond haired football player that everyone said was “going to do great things” when in reality all Matt wanted to be was Liza’s husband. He didn’t care about anything else, but making her happy. Hence the giant engagement ring on her finger, the same one that he’d let her design because he knew that was important to her. 

They were everything you wanted in your own relationship. A beautiful merging of crazy (from you) with someone stable and structured, preferably someone with a strong jaw, brilliant green eyes and-

Great, he’s already invaded my subconscious. 

You glance up again to see if the stranger is still looking. He is, but this time his smile is just a little wider, and you watch his eyes drag down the length of your body for a moment appreciatively before flicking back up to yours and catches you doing the same thing. 

You weren’t wearing anything revealing, in fact, you hadn’t bothered dressing up to go out because you didn’t feel like it. You were still wearing the blank sweatpants and oversized sweatshirt combo that you’d worn to your exam. 

When you caught him looking at you, it made you regret you hadn’t worn something more eye-catching.

“Come on, that guy is checking you out! Go over there.” Kay nudges you, jostling the forgotten tequila shot in your hand. 

“He looks like trouble.” Matt says half-heartedly, but he’s too busy staring into Liza’s eyes to really care. Her hands are entwined at the back of his head pulling his forehead down to hers.

When it got to that point of the night, it usually meant that the two of them were about fifteen seconds from calling it an early night and going back to Matt’s apartment. Technically Kay would probably end up there as well because Sean was now Matt’s roommate and that meant you’d have the apartment to yourself…

“How can you tell? Are you looking at his reflection in Liza’s eyes?” Kay takes a shot from the collection of the remaining few in front of her.

“We all know that if Sean was here, you’d already be practicing your scuba breathing.” Liza gently brushes back the few strands of blond hair that hang forward into Matt’s face which only makes him sigh softly and look at her like she’s the last woman on earth. 

You try not to be jealous. 

Kay only rolls her eyes. “Alright, I’m taking initiative.”

“What does that mean?” You begin to ask, but Kay shoves you out of the booth and towards the handsome stranger who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since your eyes met moments ago. 

“Kay. What the hell?” You turn back to look at her, but she’s already holding up your forgotten shot. 

“Take this and go over there.”

“But-”

“The only butt you should be thinking about is his, in those deliciously tight jeans. You will thank me in the morning.” She refuses to budge. “And then come home and tell me everything the two of you did, because Sean’s about to go visit his family for a week and I will need something to fantasize about.”

You wrinkle your nose in disgust, but then look to Liza hoping for help. Unfortunately she’s too busy counting Matt’s eyelashes to defend you. You look back at Kay who is still holding up the shot, gaze unwavering. 

I can’t believe I’m about to do this. 

You think to yourself with a sigh, before taking the shot, hoping that it will give you some of the confidence you need to talk to the most attractive man you’d ever seen in your life. 

I can do this, I can do this-

The internal monologue repeats itself over and over again with each step as you weave your way through the crowd to make it where the man is sitting, dropping your gaze to the people around you as if you’re more focused on them.

You weren’t, but staring at him while you were walking towards him seemed too predatory, and you could already feel how warm your cheeks were from your flush.

You grip the firm edge of the bar when you make it to him, using it to ground yourself there in the moment before you find the strength to meet his gaze.

There’s a faded green jacket hung over the high backed barstool behind him that you hadn’t noticed before.

Your eyes trace over his body, just a quick glance, but snags on his arms for just a second too long to be casual. They were even more glorious in person, tan and flecked with cinnamon colored freckles hidden beneath twisting tattoos that disappeared into his dark shirt sleeves.

“Hi.” You smile shyly at the man when you meet his gaze.

“Hi.” He rumbles with an easy smile while the green of his eyes flashes in the neon sign hanging behind the bar.

His voice catches you off guard. You weren't expecting it to be so smooth, silk over your skin, but also like the rough drag of the ocean against sand as it pulls it out to sea.

“Hi.” You say again as all other thoughts evaporate from you mind and you fight the urge to facepalm. 

What the hell am I doing over here? I might as well do the walk of shame back to my own table. 

Russell raises an eyebrow, his smile widening. “Hi.” He echoes.

You open your mouth-

“Before you say hi back sweetheart, why don’t you tell me what you’re drinking instead?” He winks making your cheeks warm with their flush.

Honestly, you were expecting him to be turned off by your somewhat awkward introduction, but if you bothered him, he doesn’t show it. He leans towards you curiously, eyes drinking you in. 

You clear your throat while your mind scrambles to come up with something appropriate or sexy to say other than ‘wow you’re pretty.’ You settle on. “Whatever you’re drinking.” 

Smooth real smooth. 

You glance back in the direction of where your friends are sitting as the man’s gaze turns to the bartender so he can order you a drink. Kay makes an obscene gesture with her hand that makes Matt kick her under the table, and Liza gives you an encouraging thumbs up.

Kill me now. 

You turn back to the man lounging against the bar, unaware that he’s watching you again. 

“You seemed like you were having some fun over there. What were you talking about?” He nods his head in the direction of your friends, the motion causing more of his dark hair to fall into his eyes and you fight the urge to push it back from his face and find out if it was as soft as it looked.

“Oh um.” Your mouth goes dry. The last thing you wanted to say to the gorgeous man was that your friends and you were discussing what animated movie characters turned you on. So you blurt out. “The First Law of Thermodynamics.”

It had clawed its way from the dark recesses of your mind where the rest of the test answers had been hiding from you when you tried to summon them earlier. 

“What?” The man laughs while you feel your face begin to blaze. 

“The First Law of Thermodynamics?” You clear your throat. “The theory that energy cannot be created or destroyed."

Where was that when I needed it for the test?

“Huh.” He smirks and takes a long sip from the beer in his hand. “Didn’t think Tarzan had anything to do with that.”

Oh sweet baby potatoes he heard the daddy conversation. Why couldn’t he have heard the Jessica Rabbit conversation instead?

“Ah.” You laugh awkwardly, realizing exactly what he overheard. 

The bartender puts down a bottle of beer in front of you and whirls away to another patron sitting on the opposite side of the bar. The band begins to play a new song, this one louder with more drums than the last one, causing the man to lean closer to you so you can hear him. 

“So.” The smell of the man’s cologne wafts over you. He smells like pine, mint, whiskey, and there’s an odd smell you can’t place, something that smells almost a little bit like smoke.

You ascribe it to cigarettes, but you don’t realize how wrong you are. 

There’s something about him, more than just how attractive he is or how good he smells that draws you in. Maybe you’d just been burned by far too many boys and were blinded by the man sitting in front of you, but he had a roughness and self-sufficient air that you found refreshing. 

He was assertive, sexy, with smoldering green eyes that somehow seemed soft and hard at the same time and filled you with an unholy amount of desire. 

“So?” You parrot, bringing the beer up to your lips, hoping that a sip will take the edge off. 

“Don’t you want to hear mine?” His voice is low and sultry, breath warming the air between the two of your faces. 

You sputter out a cough, choking on the sip you took in surprise, and his eyes widen in concern.The man brings his hand down against your back with a hearty smack to clear out your lungs.

“Are you okay?” 

“Never better.” You choke out, voice a little wheezy. “Wrong pipe.”

This is quickly becoming the most embarrassing moment of my life. 

“Are you sure?” The stranger’s eyes trace over you as if he fears you’ll start asphyxiating at any moment.

“Mhmm.” You clear your throat again. “What were you saying?”

“I asked if you wanted to hear mine.”

You suddenly forget how to breathe, the only thing grounding you to this moment is the hand you placed on the cherry wood of the bar. “Sure.”

“Rain.”

Despite the last few seconds of you feeling so awkward it made you want to sink into the floor like quicksand and the fact that your throat is still burning from when the beer went down the wrong pipe, your mouth quirks up in a smile. “The horse from Spirit?”

“Mhmm.” He smiles a little wider. “My little sister used to watch that movie non-stop, and there was always something about that horse.”

“Huh.” You muse taking another sip of the beer, this time successfully not choking on it. “I didn’t peg you for a horse guy. You seem more like a Nala person.”

“Oh that lion did it for me too.” The man leans closer to you and you can feel your knees getting weak. “She definitely had bedroom eyes.”

“She did!” You laugh at him. “The animators knew what they were doing.”

It was getting easier to talk to him now and you could feel your nerves slowly going out to sea. There’s a comfortable silence that fills the air between the two of you.

“Why did you say the First Law of Thermodynamics earlier?” He asks before taking a sip from his beer. The condensation trickles down the side of the glass to pool against the wood of the bar.

“Because I didn’t want to admit what we were talking about.” You answer honestly. “And I guess it’s still a little fresh in my mind-”

“Why?”

“I had a physics test today. Completely bombed it. That’s why my friends brought me out tonight, they were trying to make me forget it.” You wave a hand dismissively, but it was the first time you’d thought about the test in the past hour and it still stung a little bit. 

You were hoping that by this point of the night it wouldn’t have mattered anymore, but it did. Not to mention you didn’t exactly want to be talking about your most recent failure with a man who looked anything like he did. 

But something about him made you feel comfortable talking to him about things that were not on the pre-approved list of subjects you created when you spoke to people you were attracted to. He didn’t seem to just be some hot stranger in a bar, he seemed like he actually cared, and that he was invested in what you were going to say. 

It made him even more attractive. You weren't used to boys wanting to actually listen to anything you had to say.

“I’m sorry.” His face pulls down into a sympathetic frown. 

“Me too.” You sigh. 

“Maybe you didn’t do as bad as you think you did.”

“Oh I did. When I turned in the test, the professor made a face.” Your thumb rubs against the glass of the cold bottle clutched in your hand. “I studied all week for it and it kinda feels like I wasted all that time.”

The man studies you for a moment. “I think that if you learn something from it, then it’s not a waste. There are no accidents.“

“Are you purposely quoting Master Oogway to make me feel better or is that just a coincidence?” 

“He’s a smart turtle.” He laughs pleased with himself that he made you smile. “But you remembered the First Law of Thermodynamics. And I thought it was a nice pick up line. Might use that sometime.” 

“Shut up.” You laugh and raise your hand to hit him on the shoulder, but he catches it with his.

The contact of the rough palm of his hand in yours makes electricity zing through your body, bringing a wave of heat coursing behind it. 

“That’s not very nice. Keep trying to hit me like that and I might have to take you to court, Sweetheart.” He winks.

“Oh please-” 

“How else am I going to run into you again?”

“Well-” You swallow trying to find the next words, but they’re stuck in the back of your throat. 

I am so out of practice. 

“Well?” He raises an eyebrow in a silent challenge, the end of his perfect mouth teased upwards in a smile. 

“This doesn’t have to be goodbye.”

“What did you have in mind?” The heat of his gaze sends goosebumps dancing over your skin and you swear you can feel your heartbeat in the base of your throat. 

People do this all the time. I can say it. I can-

“Maybe-” You scoot closer to him, summoning some courage from the tequila. “Something like this.” 

Your free hand curls into the front of his shirt to pull the stranger closer for a kiss.

Unfortunately, you pull him just a little too hard, with a little too much enthusiasm, and he falls off the stool with a startled cry in surprise and knocks his head into yours. 

“Ow.” You groan rubbing at the red mark forming on your forehead. “I am so sorry.” 

By now your cheeks are so warm that you could fry an egg on them and you were sure you looked like a giant raspberry. You had never been so clumsy or so embarrassed in your entire life. 

“It’s okay, you just surprised me a bit.” The man says, but he’s peering at the mark on your forehead. “Are you okay?” 

How many times is he going to ask me that tonight? 

“Yeah the only thing that’s hurt is my pride.” You let out an awkward laugh. “I’m just gonna-“ You gesture with your thumb over your shoulder to signify that you’re going to leave. 

The anecdotes that your friends were going to tell from tonight had already begun to manifest in your head:

“Hey, remember that time you tried to flirt with a gorgeous man at the bar and you headbutted him?”

“Hey, remember that handsome stranger? The one you told all about your failed physics test instead of sleeping with him?”

“Wait.” He gently puts his hand on your waist, sending your heart into a gallop. “Can we try that again?”

“Huh?” You blink in surprise.

So far all you’d done was head butt him and tell him your sob story about failing your physics test. 

Worst seduction technique ever. 

“Don’t move.” He smiles. “Don’t want to have to take you to the hospital for a CT if you bump my head again.” 

It would have made you laugh if he wasn’t already kissing you.

It might just be the alcohol talking, or the fact that the last thing you kissed was the strawberry pillows on the couch in the living room last week when Liza, Kay, and you were watching your favorite paranormal tv show and you were imagining the male lead, but this kiss is nothing like any of the others you’d had in the past. 

His mouth devours yours, beard scratching against your cheeks in a way that makes your entire body buzz. The man’s hands tighten your waist to draw you closer, closing the space between your bodies, and all you can feel is the wonderful drag of his fingertips against the end of your sweatshirt, the burn of his beard, the press of his chest onto yours, and the tangle of his tongue as you sink further into him. 

A moan vibrates up through his chest and into your mouth that you echo with a soft sigh, your hands slipping over the taunt muscles before finding purchase against his back, your fingertips curling into the soft fabric of his t-shirt. 

The rest of the bar is rendered to a dull throb of life at the back of your mind, the man in front of you absorbing the rest of your attention as he should. He is nothing like anyone you’d ever met and you wanted to know more. You wanted to see the end of the odd shaped scar just at the base of his throat, trail your fingers over the dark tattoos that decorated his skin while searching for more in places you couldn’t yet see, and sink into the deep green sea of his eyes. 

“Better?” He breathes.

“Much, but if you’re not into that, I also know the Second Law of Thermodynamics. Just to give you something to remember me by.” You mumble against his lips, still slightly embarrassed. Your hands were still curled behind his strong shoulders, fingertips digging into the firm muscles.

“Beside the bruises?” He smirks before he kisses you again, the languid roll of his tongue against yours makes you forget your own name. “I’d very much like to hear it.” The rumble of his words vibrates through where your bodies are pressed against one another. “But first let me get the car and then I’ll let you tell me all about it.” 

He brushes his lips to yours one more time, before he puts cash on the bar, and leaves you breathless as he saunters away towards the front door. 

Holy fucking shit. How did that work?

“Girl Yes!” You hear Kay, before you feel her hands come down on your shoulders to shake you excitedly. “I was a little worried in the middle there for you with that head butt, but yes! That’s how you do it!” Her excited squeal brings you back down to earth from the cloud you were floating on with Russell. 

“Where’d he go?” Liza asks. Matt was holding her from behind, his chin on her shoulder as he slowly rocked her to the music.

“To get the car.” Your cheeks flush at the insinuation. 

“Fuck I am so jealous. The only thing I’m going to get to do tonight is Sean’s back.” Kay gives an exaggerated sigh. “It’s acting up and that means I’m going to have to give him a massage for an hour and not the good kind. It always knocks him out.” 

“Aww babe.” Liza says. 

“It’s okay.” Kay shrugs, but then sends her a saucy wink. “I can do some laundry. His washing machine has this spin cycle that makes me see stars.” 

“I didn’t need to know that you’ve been molesting our washing machine.” Matt closes his eyes as if trying to scrub the image from his mind. 

“It’s money well spent, Mattie.” Kay batts her eyes at him. 

He huffs, but then turns his gaze on you, his blue eyes are filled with concern. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“Yeah.” You shrug, nerves popping and sizzling inside so much that they might as well be giving off enough electricity to power New York City. “I don’t get a creepy vibe from him. I think he’s actually kind of nice.” 

It was true. Your radar was usually on point with things like this, and there was something about Russell that didn’t scream axe murderer. He seemed surprisingly laid back and honest, and you found yourself curious to know more about him. 

Matt doesn’t look convinced.

“It’s okay babe.” Liza says, swaying her and his body to the music. “We have the app on our phones and we all know the safe word.” She continues, referencing the word the three of you designated when everything was okay as well as the other word that meant everything was going terribly wrong. 

You didn’t think that you would need it. 

He sighs. “Fine, but if he tries anything weird-”

“What qualifies as weird for you?” Kay asks, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve always been curious about your kinks.” 

Kay always took pride in getting under Matt’s skin. You never knew why that was, only that it seemed to be her mission to make him crack. He never did. 

“Be safe.” He nods at you before he drags Liza towards the door. 

“Seriously babe.” Kay begins to back away. “Be safe. Because the last thing you want to pass right now is a pregnancy test.” 

“Why are we friends again?” You groan as you follow behind her, weaving through the mass of bodies writhing to the newest song. 

The air outside the bar is cooler, but there’s just a hint of something on the wind. Spring was coming, but it was still far enough away to leave just a light chill in the air. The street in front of Duke’s was populated sporadically with cars of varying shapes and colors, but you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of car the mysterious stranger drove. 

Why didn’t I ask him for his name? 

“Because you’d be lost without me.” Kay laughs at you, but then pulls you into a hug. “Have fun and please try not to think about that stupid test. You’re so smart and I promise that one test is not going to define your entire future. If that were true my first organic chemistry test would have come with a refrigerator box to live in, because that test was literally the stuff of nightmares.” 

She frowns at the memory. It was the first test that she had ever failed in her entire life, and although you were the one who usually obsessed over grades, it was the first time you’d ever seen Kay so disappointed. That was also because her professor had asked her to stop by for office hours and told her that there was no way she’d ever be able to get the grades she needed in his class. 

But a weekend marathon of Sex and the City listening to her mentor Samantha Jones, had brought her back to life and she’d sauntered confidently into the classroom armed with a flat white latte and sat in the front row at every lecture the rest of the semester. 

She’d gotten the highest grade in the class. 

Basically, Kay was your hero, that was the real reason why you were her friend. 

“I’ll try my best. Tell Sean hi for me.” You squeeze her just as tight, before she walks away down the darkened path back to campus where Sean would be waiting for her. 

There was an odd glow over the sidewalks tonight, a yellowed light that crawled along the cracked brick building that housed Duke’s and halted just shy of the opening of the alley that ran between Duke’s and the bank next door. No other people were visible. Even the small crowd that usually leaned against the rustic brick wall outside of the bar smoking was nowhere to be seen. 

It was odd.

You rub your hands down your arms with nervous anticipation. You’d slept with someone from a bar one time before, but one night stands were not your forte at all. The last time it’d happened, you’d gone back with a guy to his apartment only to find out an hour later when his girlfriend got home that he wasn’t single. She hadn’t seemed surprised that you were in bed with him, but you had been when she pulled out a switchblade the size of your hand and began to slash through the neatly arranged collection of plush squish-mallows on the floor while screaming obscenities at the guy.

In hindsight, maybe the squish-mallows were a clue that he was in a relationship. 

But you didn’t have any bad feelings about the man you’d met. He was attractive, witty, nice, funny, and he genuinely seemed concerned about you when you almost choked to death on a sip of beer. 

I will make him forget the entire awkward encounter. 

You promised yourself, but you also began to be a little bit nervous. You didn’t know why it was taking him so long to find the car. 

A bird caws overhead, sweeping low across the buildings, feathers an inky black in the night air, its shadow flickering across the moon. 

Another two minutes pass and you start to get antsy. 

Maybe he just left?

The thought brings a wave of disappointment over you. The stranger was the first person in a long time that you’d felt genuinely attracted to and now you couldn’t help but think that maybe he lied and when he said he was going to get the car, he really was trying to get away from you as fast as possible. 

You take a few steps in the direction that Kay left thinking that you might as well cut your losses and see if you can catch up, but hesitate. 

What if I leave and he comes back? What if-

An odd noise that sounds like a cat hacking up a hairball comes from the alley directly to your right, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the pavement. 

You turn. Most of the alley is obscured in shadows, several large dumpsters jut out from grimy brick walls stained with God knows what, but you don’t see anything out of the ordinary. 

There are some lights fastened to the wall that runs the length of the bar, sending a dingy orange light over the bags of trash, empty flattened cardboard boxes, and plastic cups strewn over the wet ground. 

The door of Duke’s swings open for a moment, bringing the sounds and smells of the bar through the doorway as a woman enters tugging a sullen looking man behind her.

You turn your attention back to the empty alleyway, and catch the low rumble of a voice that sounds oddly familiar. It echoes through the darkness bouncing off the stone, metal, and bags of trash to where you stand at the dimly lit mouth of the alley.

That’s weird. 

Another sound follows the voice, a wet sounding thud that piques your interest. You take a tentative step forward into the darkness.

Wait. Isn’t this how every horror movie starts?

It was a valid question. But then you hear the voice again, it’s louder, vibrating against the brick and mortar, and it pulls your forward. 

Anxiety hums through your body as you inch down the alley, sticking to the well lit side that runs the length of Duke’s.

“Who sent you?” The familiar voice asks.

There’s no answer, and the sound of the cat choking up a hairball comes back. 

Someone needs to get Grizabella a glass of water.

You take another shaky step passing by the first dumpster before you reach the part of the alley that wraps around the back of the bar. 

At first you’re not sure what you see. The part of the alley behind the bar is more of a cramped street with a tire marked dirt path, bathed in awkward light from the moon and from a lazy streetlight that’s only half lit. There’s another dumpster back here, this one a little larger than the others you’d seen along the side of the building, but that isn’t what’s interesting. 

The image comes into focus. 

The stranger from the bar is standing there, his back to you, but he isn’t alone. The stranger has a man pinned to the dumpster, a large knife stabbed into the space between the man’s collarbone and his right shoulder while his other hand is clasped tightly around the man’s neck.

“Who sent you?!” The stranger roars, the knife digging into the man’s shoulder. 

Your entire body freezes in fear.

My radar was so wrong. How could it be this wrong? He was so caring and kind- That’s what they said about Ted Bundy. 

Your gaze drops to what you thought was a garbage bag at the green-eyed stranger's feet, but realize that it’s not a bag, it’s a body.

Holy shit he’s a murderer! Maybe if I just back away slowly-

You take a slow step backwards hoping to edge back into the alley that runs the length of the bar and forget this night ever happened, but instead of your foot finding solid ground, it finds a forgotten potato chip bag. 

The crinkled plastic crunches underfoot, breaking the still silence of the night. You inhale sharply and look up. Your gaze locks with the green-eyed man.

“I didn’t see anything.” You hold up your hands, backing away slowly. “Have a nice night.”

“Wait-”

“Nope.” You turn and flee down the alley hoping that someone is coming out of the bar at the exact moment who can witness the broad stranger chasing after you. His boots thud against the concrete, splashing through water in hot pursuit, contrasting against the plods of your own feet sloshing through puddles and through trash to get back to the light.

Before you make it halfway through the darkness, he grabs your arm and turns you to look at him. 

“Let me go!” You shriek, tugging at his grip, preparing to kick him between his legs, the only place that matters.

“Please wait. I can explain!” 

“You don’t have to explain!” You keep pulling at his arm. “I didn’t see anything! I don’t know who you are. And you know what? I wasn’t even in the bar tonight! I was back in my apartment watching Crime Scene Kitchen!” 

It was the first thing that popped into your head, but if it meant that you got to live, it would be your alibi.

He hesitates confused. “What’s Crime Scene Kitchen?”

“What? You just fucking murdered someone in an alley, you’re about to murder me, and that’s what you’re asking me?” You scream.

“I’m not going to murder you. And I was the one who was attacked!”

“Oh sure!” Fear clamps down hard on your throat squeezing the air coming in through your lungs. Tears begin to burn against your eyes as you try to release his grip. “Somebody help me!” You scream loudly trying to twist away from him and wishing that you’d brought your bottle of pepper spray or that you’d taken the self-defense class last summer with Kay or at least paid more attention to that scene in Miss Congeniality.

How could I have been so stupid? He’s going to kill me here and I’ll never know what that physics test did to my GPA. 

You frown slightly at that thought. It really is weird what goes through your head when you think you’re going to die. 

“Please, let me explain.” He says again, eyes wide and filled with an emotion that looks surprisingly like regret.

His dark hair has fallen forward over his cheeks that are flecked with blood, but the lights that line the wall of the dark alley perfectly frame his face. He looked like a model for a beer commercial or one that they’d roughed up a little for those weird perfume commercials you saw that never made any sense, but were always intriguing. 

Why are all the hot ones crazy? Why couldn’t he have just been a bad kisser? Or maybe a little too loud? Why is his flaw that he freaking MURDERS people? 

As you think that, there is a little voice inside your head that asks: Could I be okay with that? 

NO! OF COURSE NOT!

“There’s nothing to explain! You’re a murderer! You just killed those people!” You aim a kick at his crotch, but the man only catches your ankle with his large hand. You could feel the warmth of his skin through your sweatpants, the sensation that brought warm tingles through your body when you were in the bar, only sends a wave of fear crashing over you.

“Yes I did, but for a good reason!”

“Really? What reason was that!?”

“They were trying to kill me!”

“I don’t believe you!”

“I-”

Before he can finish his sentence, gunfire explodes over your head. Sparks fly as bullets crash into the dumpsters and rip through the night air around where you and the man are standing.

There’s a large black suburban parked in the street that runs behind Duke’s where you’re found the stranger with the body. Three men stand in front of it all in dark clothing and each one is  holding a pistol pointed directly at where you’re standing. 

“Holy shit!” You scream, but the stranger tackles you back behind the large rusting green dumpster that juts out and gives you cover from the blaze of bullets.

His body lays over yours, curving protectively around you, and his arm is behind you head so when you hit the ground, your head doesn’t. The impact of the cold, wet, concrete beneath your body jostles through your system, but you can’t focus on it too much, not when the man’s entire body is laying on top of yours and it feels as if he was made especially for you. 

He lays in the cradle of your thighs, wonderfully broad and hard, the muscles of his body contrasting to the soft curves of your body underneath your clothes. It left very little to the imagination, well… not little. 

It’s enough to make a girl forget that he’s a murderer… No, what am I saying!!

You shove him off of you and cower back behind the dumpster, the sound of gunfire filling your ears and making you realize exactly what you smelled on the man earlier that you thought was smoke. 

“Baby-” He says reaching out to comfort you.

“Don’t touch me! I’m not your baby!” You swat his hands away from you pressing yourself back into the wet wall of the alley. 

The smell of mold and trash was rising all around you in an unholy mist. The wet ground soaked into the soft fabric of your pants and left stains that you didn’t want to think about what they were. 

“Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit-” It comes out like a sickening mantra as you rock back and forth, hands on your ears to make the sound of the gunfire stop.

I’m going to die here. In this dismal back alley. In front of this gorgeous murder. If I had know that I wouldn’t have spent so much of this week studying for a mother-fucking physics test!

“Sweetheart!” The man shouts to catch your attention, but you don’t look at him. 

“What in the devil’s ass is happening?!” You shriek.

“Listen to me!” He shouts louder over the sound of gunfire and takes your cheeks in his rough palms to make him look at him. His green eyes are brilliant in the light, but filled with a determined fire that makes you suddenly feel very safe despite watching him kill someone and the active gunfire bouncing all around you. 

You wanted to trust him, but you also didn’t want to be on the news or used as a cautionary tale for mothers to guilt their daughters with. 

“I promise that nothing is going to happen to you.”

“How can you guarantee that?!”

“Because I don’t break my promises.” The determined grit in his eyes hardens as they sweep over your face. “I will explain what’s going on. But first I have to go talk to them.” He releases your face, but hesitates. 

The man wasn’t bothering to duck and cover, in fact each time a bullet ricocheted off the side of the dumpster he didn’t even flinch, meanwhile the sour taste of bile was rising into your mouth and you were sure that you were going to throw up. Panic was setting in, and your heart rate was getting dangerously high as anxiety and fear flickered along your nerve endings. 

Oh my sweet goodness he’s mentally unstable.

“Actually.” He sighs and flashes an awkward smile. “I don't want to lie to you. I’m going to go kill them. Don’t move.” He reaches into the waistband at the back of his worn jeans and pulls out a gun. 

Has he had that this whole time? HOW did I not feel it? 

“Wait what? Don’t go out there!” Your fingers fist in the front of his jacket, the fear of him leaving you more than the fear of him murdering you. At this point it was either be killed by the beautiful stranger or killed by the other guys, and being killed by the other guys meant that you’d have to meet someone new and look where that had gotten you tonight. 

“They’re not exactly going to leave on their own.” He cracks a smile despite the situation. “But promise me you’re not going to move.” His smile turns into a concerned frown, eyebrows furrowing together as his eyes settle on you once more, steely and unyielding. 

“I promise.” Your voice comes out shaky and not at all what you sound like. Truthfully you were surprised that you got anything to come out of your mouth that wasn't vomit.

He nods once. 

When he leaves, you wait exactly three seconds, counting each of them out in your head before you take off in a dead run for the front door of Duke’s bar and into the safety of the street beyond without looking back while hoping that all of this has just been a bad dream. 

Coming back to the apartment feels surreal, crossing through the living room like a Salvador Dali painting, and finally closing your bedroom door and locking it is like a mirage. 

You weren’t sure how you made it back here, only that you did, and that was all that mattered.

Kay and Liza weren’t home, predictably, but you would have tried to call both of them if you hadn’t dropped your phone in the cluster fuck that was everything that happened an hour ago. Because on top of everything now you didn’t have any way to contact your friends and let them know that you’re alive and okay.  

Your body was still buzzing with the anxiety of everything that happened, mind going a mile a minute the longer you allowed it to bathe in the memories of being shot at and watching the stranger kill those men. 

The stranger that somehow was able to trick your radar.

I just need to breathe, relax, and- 

You turn around towards your bed expecting to go to sleep and forget all of it, but the thought stutters to a halt as you realize you’re not alone. The green-eyed stranger is standing there in the center of your bedroom. He is holding a bundle of your clothes in one hand and your empty school backpack in the other. 

“What the fuck?!” You scream and reach for the Strawberry Shortcake bat your dad bought you when you moved out, hefting it high on your shoulder preparing to swing. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He raises an eyebrow at your awkward stance. “Why are you holding a bright pink baseball bat?”

“All the better beat the shit out of rapists who break into my apartment in the middle of the night!”

“What happened to murderer?” The end of his lips lift up in a smile too perfect to be real. He almost seems to be enjoying this, like he thinks you’re being cute and not accusing him of something terrible. 

“That too!”

He laughs at you, but then his smile slips into a frown.“Why did you break your promise?” You don't understand why he looks like a kicked puppy at the thought that you broke your promise. 

Of course I didn’t keep it! I was running for my life to get out of the way of the millions of bullets pointed at my head!

“What?”

“You promised that you would stay there and you didn’t. You could have been killed.” Worry flashes in his gaze, and your eyes drop to the flecks of blood on the outside of his jacket that remind you of everything this man had done tonight.

“Oh, well excuse me for breaking a promise I made to a murderer!” 

“I’m not a murderer.” 

“If the boot fits!” You snap back. “You showing up in my bedroom certainly seems plenty murdery. That and you going through my underwear drawer for a little souvenir.” Your eyes narrow in suspicion. 

“A souvenir?” The man laughs at you again, his shoulders shaking. He’s still wearing the same clothes he was in the alley, and again you’re momentarily stunned by how attractive he is.

“Why else would you be going through my drawers? And how do you know where I live!?”

“That’s not important right now.” The man shoves the bundle of your clothes into your backpack before moving back to the chest of drawers in the corner of your bedroom for another handful.

“What the fuck do you mean that’s not important right now? And what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m packing you a bag.”

“What? Why? So it’ll look like I ran away?!”

Oh holy fuck he’s still going to kill me!

You swing the bat as hard as you can, but the man raises the backpack to block your attack. 

“Calm down Derek Jeter! I’m not going to murder you, please stop saying that.”

“Why?”

He frowns and shrugs his shoulders. “Because it’s hurting my feelings a little bit.” 

“Hurting your-” You shake your head in disbelief. “Look, I have no idea who the fuck you are or why you broke into my apartment but-”

“Hi. I’m Russell.” The man now identified as ‘Russell’ holds out his hand to try and shake yours. 

That’s obviously a fake name. 

You stare at him blankly. “Are you insane?”

“No, I just told you, I’m  Russell. And we have to go.” He retracts his hand and begins to shove clothes into your backpack again.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, crazy! I have class in the morning and an exam in two days!” You heft the baseball bat higher on your shoulder as a silent threat.

Judging by the way he blocked your attack so easily a few moments ago, you didn’t have high hopes. But you did think that if you screamed loud enough your elderly neighbor, aptly named Willy due to the many, many times he’d flashed Kay, Liza, and you “accidentally,” would come over at least to see if you had any extra magazines to take back to his hoarder apartment that was stacked floor to ceiling with yellowed newspapers long out of print. 

Russell sighs, and looks from the bat to you, shoulders relaxing a millimeter, but there’s still something determined in his gaze. “I understand that you’re scared, but those guys, they saw you with me.”

“So?”

“So if I leave you here with no protection, they’re going to come here and take you.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Yes I do!” He replies, the edge of his voice is tinged with anger and frustration. 

“How?”

“Look!” Russell holds up a battered phone. Displayed on the cracked screen is a message thread of texts to an unknown number. Russell clicks on one of the pictures that was sent an hour ago, about the time the two of you met.

As it grows larger on the screen you recognize the two people in it. It’s a picture of Russell and you kissing at the bar. Your eyes are closed, hands curved over his shoulders possessively, while you smile into his mouth.

The memory of the kiss sends a warm tingle down your spine as you remember how good the kiss was. It was definitely in the top ten, hell, it was number one. 

Don’t be seduced by his charm and good looks! You saw him kill someone tonight! Not to mention he probably killed those other guys that were shooting at you.

Russell swipes his finger over the screen again, this time the picture is of him and you talking, your face on full display. You’re laughing at something Russell said with your right hand resting on the cool bottle of beer you never finished. Honestly, if anyone was seeing those photos for the first time it would look like Russell and you were together. 

“You took pictures of me!?” You shout. “You’re a fucking freak!” 

“Sweetheart, listen to me-”

“I’m not your Sweetheart. You’re just some random murder that I met at a bar!”

The things that I’ve said tonight for the first time could be an SNL skit. Why me?

“For the last time, I am not a murder! And I didn’t take those photos. The men who were after me did.”

“So? Why would they care about some random girl?”

“Because they don’t know you’re some random girl I met! They think that you’re important to me and until I figure out who they sent these pictures to, you’re not safe.”

“Can’t you text them and say that you just met me tonight? That it’s a pure coincidence?! That I’m not important to you.” You point at the cracked phone, waving your free hand frantically at it.

Russell laughs at your question. “Are you kidding? Do you think they’re going to believe me?”

“I don’t know! And how would they know where I live?”

“The same way I knew how.”

That is a good point. How did he know where I lived?

You hesitate, gaze flicking over where Russell stands with your backpack in his hand, but another idea begins to wiggle from the depths of your mind. “Wait. Is this some kind of kinky thing you do? Some fetish? Pretending to be a spy or that people are after you just to get yourself all hot and bothered?”

“What?” Now it’s Russell’s turn to look at you like you’re crazy. 

You take that as confirmation. “It is! Holy fuck, that is so messed up.”

Wow forget murderer, he’s an actual psychopath. Why the hell did I drop my phone?

Kay and Liza weren’t going to be back tonight. Especially not if they think that you took “Russell,” if that really is his name, back to the apartment. You had no other way of contacting them, except with your laptop that was sitting closed on your bed behind where Russell was standing. 

“Wait a minute. I’m not a spy.”

“Exactly, that’s the point! You’re pretending to make me-”

“No, I’m not. I promise all of this is real!” Russell sighs frustrated. “I know that you don’t want to believe me, but it isn’t safe here. And I can protect you!”

“That’s exactly what you would say to kidnap me!”

“Sweetheart. I am not going to kidnap you, I’m trying to keep you safe. I mean, if I have to kidnap you I will-”

Your eyes widen and you heft the bat high on your shoulder prepared to swing.

“Sorry, that was a bad joke.” He holds up his hands in surrender, flashing an apologetic smile. “What would it take to make you believe me?”

It was the question that you had been contemplating since he’d protected you in the alley. You knew nothing about him, didn’t know what he did for a living, and you’d only just learned his name. But despite everything that happened there was a little part of yourself that wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe everything he was telling you, well, not the part about you being in danger and the idea that people now wanted to kill you, but the part about being able to trust him. 

You think about the way he made you feel at the bar, when he listened to you complain about your physics test and made you laugh. You’d trusted him then, enough to go home with him or at least, try to go home with him. 

“I don’t know.” The bat slips a little bit from your shoulder with your honesty. “Do you have any character references?”

Russell cracks a smile. “Isn’t it a little early for you to ask me about my old girlfriends? Don’t think any of them would be willing to say anything good about me either.”

This time you can feel a little smile begin to tug at the end of your lips, one that Russell notices. 

“I know that you’re scared.” He takes a tentative step forward. “But I promise that I will explain everything to you, answer all your questions, but all I know is that you’re not safe here. And I can’t in good conscience leave, if I know you’re in danger.”

The look in his eyes had the determined fire you’d seen many times tonight, but there was something honest about it. They saw through you, and even though you had spent most of the night terrified and believed him to be a murderer, you didn’t think that someone like that would be so determined for you to go with him. 

It felt like two parts of your head were at war. You wanted to trust Russell, you didn’t think he was lying to you, but you had seen him kill those men. And there was an unfortunate part of you that worried he made all of this up to kidnap you. 

But I think if he meant to do that… he would have jumped me the minute I walked into my bedroom, he wouldn’t have said “hi.”

“I know this whole thing sounds crazy. But the last thing I want is for you to die because of something stupid I did. Please.”

You bite the inside of your cheek thinking about Kay and Liza. “If I leave, what about my roommates? They live here too.” 

He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m not going to sugar coat it Sweetheart, there’s always a chance that they’ll be hurt, but with you gone, there’s also a chance that these guys will focus more on finding me.”

“So basically you can’t guarantee their safety?”

“No.” He drops his gaze for a moment, but then he looks at you again. “But I can guarantee yours and I don’t want to take the chance with your life. And my brother is smart, maybe he can figure out a way to keep them safe too.”

You stand there for a moment contemplating what he’s saying, the memories of everything that happened tonight rising up in an unrelenting wave, not just cowering behind the dumpster, but the kiss the two of you shared, and the way he made you laugh.

I want to trust him. I don’t think he’s lying, I don’t think he’s going to hurt me. You think to yourself, and then the inevitable thought comes. I feel safe with him. 

“Do you promise that your name is Russell and that you’re telling me the truth?” You ask one more time to make sure.

“Yes.”

So you take a chance and hope to God that you’re not wrong. 

“Okay.” You nod, lowering the bat entirely. “I’ll go with you.”

He sighs in relief. “Good.” Russell holds out the backpack towards you. “You should probably pack this. If I had my way, there won’t be much in here besides underwear.”

“You’re such a guy.” You roll your eyes and take the backpack from him, but you can't help the smile that curls on the end of your mouth.

Russell returns it, pleased with himself that he'd gotten you to smile again. “That's better than you accusing me of being a murderer.”

“Jury’s still out on that one.” 

“But you have to admit… this did make you forget your physics test right?”

He's not wrong... but you don’t think that this is better.

A/N: I had so much fun with this one. I hope y'all laughed as much as I did 😂

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think! 😊 If you'd liked to be added to my taglist please let me know!

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester @zepskies @louisanalady

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[judesmoonbeauty]

From his POV of Love me, Hate CE:

I LOVE a biter….me next 😏

[anashins]

Pairing: lawyer!Jaehyun x divorcée!reader

Genre: age gap, drama, romance, smut

Word Count: 24k

Summary: Jaehyun has a ruthless, cruel and not so legal way of getting his clients everything they want out of their divorce. After all, to do the job right, a lawyer like him is not supposed to believe something like 'love' exists in the first place. That is until he meets his next client who also has a not so legal way of creeping right into his heart and make him question all his morals.

A/N: Man, I miss Jaehyun :( D-541

“I want to divorce my husband.”

Jaehyun hadn’t spared you, the young woman who had been following him since the lobby, a single glance, purposefully ignoring every word you were trying to direct at him as he walked hurriedly and steadily to the elevators. 

He was already running late that morning thanks to a fight with the parking attendant since apparently, his permission for the parkade had run out last night. And now, an annoying woman blocking the elevator doors after he had gotten in and hindering Jaehyun from reaching his office’s floor was a bit of a stretch at this ungodly hour. Eventually, he couldn’t ignore your existence anymore. 

“Move,” he demanded, annoyed.

“I won’t,” you objected.

Pressing the ‘close’-button over and over again, Jaehyun rolled his eyes at your perseverance as not even the heavy doors hitting your arms could chase you away. He stared at you, observing the persistence mirrored in your eyes as you pushed the doors aside again. He silently gave you credit for that.

“I want to divorce my husband,” you said again. “And I need you to successfully do so!”

Jaehyun let his eyes wander as you had piqued his interest ultimately. Your stubborn spirit reminded him a little bit of himself. But only a little bit. He examined you thoroughly. You were dressed elegantly in a pencil skirt, blouse and high heels. No wrinkles in your clothes, hair tidily pulled out of your face, not a strand out of order. You dressed like the average woman approaching him for his help: trophy wives in their thirties up to fifties, trapped in a marriage that was falling apart for always one and the same reason,

the lack of love.

In these kinds of marriages, mutual love rarely existed anymore. It was the same pattern again and again: The woman went blindly and head over heels in love into the marriage and throughout time, got frustrated with their lives as their marriage turned out entirely different from what they had imagined. The husband was almost never at home, business was always more important, and rarely did a case not involve cheating. 

A person who had once been a naive woman in love had usually changed into a vengeful wife who wanted to take her husband to the cleaners by the time they consulted Jaehyun’s law firm. After all, they didn’t believe in love anymore, and that was why his job was so easy, and even a little bit of fun.

But there was one difference that made you stand out significantly from all of his past clients, Jaehyun silently remarked to himself as his gaze stopped on your face: You were young. So, so young.

“Divorce your husband?” he repeated your words. “Aren’t you too young to be married for long enough yet?”

Your expression darkened, but he took it as a challenge. It wouldn’t be the first time he clashed with a potential client. As a matter of fact, it wouldn’t be a successful case for him if his client wouldn’t start hating him at some point - and then preaching him to the heavens when he got them all they had asked for in the process, and more.

“Do you want this case or not?” you retorted. “I promise, you won’t regret it.”

Jaehyun raised a brow. Straightforward and witty. He hadn’t expected that from an early twenty-something. Perhaps, he should pay weight to your words, the fact that he wouldn’t regret it. Judging by your age alone, there was surely more to the story, and he was curious to get under the surface of it all.

Jaehyun removed his hand from the ‘close’-button while simultaneously a moment of relief flashed through his face - along with a grin. 

The door stayed open as he asked, “How long have you been married for?”

“Two and a half years.”

That was nothing.

“Is there a prenup?”

“Yes.”

As always.

“What’s your husband’s name?”

You hesitated.

In a lot of cases, Jaehyun knew his client’s spouses just by their name. Wives of CEOs, chairmen, actors, doctors, politicians, investors … they all came to him.

“Kang Seungmin.”

Jaehyun almost visibly took in an exasperated breather.

“Kang Seungmin who is related to the Aewha Group?”

You nodded. “His older brother is the CEO.”

Pause.

“Be here tomorrow, 8am.”

____

You remembered the day you got married like it was yesterday. 

You weren’t wearing your dream wedding dress. 

Your dress was a designer that your husband’s mother had picked out. It had been too voluminous, too heavy, and it hadn’t suited your style at all. Your makeup had made it hard for you to recognize yourself and they had put too many extensions in your hair. But that was what they had wanted you to look like - and you had complied.

It wasn’t your dream wedding venue. 

It had taken place at the Shilla Hotel and you hadn’t had any say in the decoration, it was all white and beige when you had wanted sprinkles of purple, your favorite color. The cake was vanilla flavored when you had wanted blueberry, and the program had involved a choir, not a band. But that was what they had wanted the reception to be like - and you had complied.

Your friends and family weren’t there. 

You hadn’t known a single person at the wedding except for your future husband’s family. When you had been sitting there, feeling lonely and left out, there was no one you could have turned to, no familiar and friendly face. Your guests were all only business partners and your new family’s friends - and you had complied.

You had never felt so lonely in your life like on the day that was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. But you had complied with everything, because you had been so, so in love.

And what was left of that now?

“So, Mrs. Kang,” Mr. Jeong started the next morning after you had appeared in front of his office at 8am sharp. “After you have filled out all the information about you and your husband, I just want to know one thing…”

“Which is…?”

You hoped he didn’t notice how you kept your shaking legs in place with your palms pressing on top of your thighs. You knew exactly what was coming and you were prepared for that, but it always made you nervous, regardless of how many times someone would bring this topic up. And it happened almost every time.

“What is it that you’re after?”

You were confused. That wasn’t what you had expected. “Pardon me?”

The lawyer took off his glasses with which he had previously read through your information carefully and put them next to him on the desk. Then, he propped his elbows against the table and leaned in to you. It was very intimidating as if he wanted to look straight into your soul to detect every lie that could possibly pass your lips.

But there was nothing for you to lie about.

“What do you want out of this marriage, Mrs. Kang?” he carefully elaborated. “Money? The house? Company shares? I can get you everything.”

“In all honesty, Mr. Jeong,” you admitted, “I don’t want any of his money, belongings, mansions and company shares. I just want to get out of this marriage and never be involved with this family again. That’s all I want.”

He let out a long sigh and closed the file with your information.

“Are you… done?” you asked.

“Yes. With you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t want anything? No money, no mansions, no company shares? Then, where is the thrill? What do you need me for?” The lawyer leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms behind his head. “I think it’s better for you to look for another lawyer.”

“His material possessions were not the reason I was trying to find consultation with you.” You stayed calm and didn’t want to get irritated by his change in demeanor. “I grew up wealthy already, Mr. Jeong. I’m not dependent on his money. When I turned eighteen, I inherited the trust fund my parents had opened up for me the day I was born. It’s enough to live comfortably until… well, the end of my days.”

“So, you are two wealthy people who have married and you don’t want to take anything from him just out of spite. According to the law, the trust fund still rightfully belongs to you as it had been handed over to you prior to your marriage.” If he was confused by your statement, then he didn’t let it slip. “So, what is it that makes divorcing him so difficult then, Mrs. Kang? What is it that you’re after, exactly? I know there is something after all.”

“It’s not what I’m after. It’s what he is after.” You reached down to your bag, pulling out a file that you then attentively placed on the lawyer’s desk. “Here is a copy of my prenup. Please open page 35. I highlighted the most important parts.”

He put back on his glasses and opened the documents at the respective page. You visibly saw his brows furrow at the paragraph that you had pointed out.

“So, it’s the other way around. In case of a divorce, it’s not him who will lose everything,” the lawyer concluded. “But you will lose everything, and it will be all transcribed to him. Your trust fund money, your possessions, everything from before your marriage even…” He stilled. “Just… everything.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m sorry Mrs. Kang, but…” He looked at you in utter disbelief. And the worst thing was that you couldn’t even blame him. You were very ashamed of yourself, too. “How could you have even signed this in the first place? I have never seen a prenup like this in my entire career. But then again, I've only been practicing in my own law firm for a short few years….”

He was straightforward with a certain sharpness lying on his tongue that tended to take a derogatory way at times. This lawyer had surely seen so much already, but according to his words, this must just be an entire new level of naiveness he hadn’t encountered ever before.

“I was young and in love.” 

There was certainly no other explanation you wanted to give him yet, even though he was looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to elaborate the decision and specifically the situation you had been in when signing this agreement. But again, you had to disappoint him. You would have still signed the papers if the circumstances had been different, you were certain of that. Why would it matter if you left out an additional reason?

The lawyer let out a long sigh. It was like you could hear his thoughts in your own mind: Such a naive, stupid girl, getting married so young and signing away all her rights just to be with a powerful man forever, out of blinded love. You endured it like so many other things in your life.

“Love.” He snorted, confirming your thoughts, and closed the marriage contract with a thud. “It’s absolutely good for nothing. You clients prove it to me every time.”

You tilted your head. “Just because I’m getting divorced doesn’t mean I don’t believe in love anymore, Mr. Jeong. Those are two very different things.”

“I’m aware of the fact that my clients almost all get married out of love like you,” he corrected himself strictly and made his standpoint clear to you. “Now, wanting a divorce from the person who you once had such strong feelings for… how can you still believe in something that has failed you so thoroughly?”

“But love hasn’t failed me,” you objected. “It’s the person who failed me. And just because that certain man has let me down, doesn’t mean someone else will, too. There is not only one person in the world to love. I’m not going to say I hate all men and will never meet someone I can open myself up to again, Mr. Jeong. I suppose that’s what the majority of people who come here say to you, am I right? But I won’t. There are people in their fifties finding love all over again, so if I have to wait another thirty years just to experience the same, I will willingly do so. I will never give up hope, I won’t let spite devour me whole. I will wait for my time to come.”

He had fallen into silence and his gaze was impenetrable while you kept talking and eventually came to an end. The Lawyer was either baffled by your naivete once again, or you had sincerely taken him by surprise and the usually so witty man for once, since your meeting, didn’t know what to reply.

“You’re so full of positivity, Mrs. Kang, it almost makes me feel sick. Where is your anger, your vengefulness?” he eventually responded, and you felt a wave of disappointment wash over you. “But since you don’t seem to have my clients’ usual bitterness and grimness to drive by, we will rely on your insolent positivity to win this case. Or stupidness, depending on how you view your case.”

You had never been so subtly attacked and complimented at the same time, but since it was coming from the ruthless attorney himself, you put more weight on the latter. “Whatever works for me, I guess.”

He folded his forearms on the table and leaned forward, closer to you, narrowing his eyes before he almost whispered, “But there is one thing I always demand from my clients to win a case and my trust eventually. Without this certain thing, you will lose both.”

You inhaled deeply in expectation. “And that is…?”

“The entire truth.” The response was so simple, but you sensed there was more depth in it. “If I ask you something, you’re going to tell me the truth. You cannot conceal or hide anything. There cannot be a detail that you consider too irrelevant or something that you consider too embarrassing to tell me. You will tell me everything I ask for and not ask for, are we clear?”

At this moment, you felt like he was staring right into your soul, marking this a make it or break it point for your business relationship. If you lied, would he be able to detect right away? Or was he bluffing and only wanted to intimidate you? Had he already sensed that you had left out an important aspect in your marriage?

“We are very much clear.”

A grin flashed across his face, making you frown. “Very well. Then I need you to do the exact opposite.” 

“The opposite? Then… I should lie?”

“Exactly. And please don’t hit me with the ‘I cannot lie, I’m a sincere person, I cannot hurt someone’ bullshit. We don’t do that here. In order to win what you want, you have to play dirty. Be honest with me, but when I need you to lie and do reprehensible things, you have to comply. Do you think you can do this, little miss sunshine? Or are we way too sincere and positive for that?”

“I’m sorry, if you mean playing dirty do yo-”

“Can you do that?” he interrupted you. “This is the only thing I need to know. Can you play dirty when I need you to?”

This shouldn’t surprise you. Deep down, you had always known what kind of lawyer he was. Everyone knew. That was why you had eventually seeked out for him. You couldn’t win this case on your own or with any lawyer, it had to be him. You had tried so hard and had approached not only attorneys in this city, but all over the country - to no avail.

This lawyer was your last resort, and never had you thought you would go this far. But if you had to lie and play dirty if asked to break free from your golden cage, then that was what you were going to do.

If you had to play dirty to see your family again, then you would do so.

You gulped, but still brought out, “I can do that.”

Even though it came reluctantly, he still believed you and said with a satisfied smile, “Very well, ma’am.”

_____

“So, this is the golden cage that you’re always referring to.” Your lawyer stood in the lobby, inspecting the entrance location. “Interesting.”

It was an odd sight for you - to have your divorce lawyer, who was technically still a stranger even after meeting a few times in his firm, in the home that you were sharing with your husband. But then again, in these two and a half years here together, your house had always been filled with only strangers and people you weren’t fond of, so this wasn’t quite a new experience.

Your home was a multistory penthouse in a high rise building in one the city’s wealthiest neighborhood, because another quarter was a degradation for your husband’s family’s status. It was all too modernly and minimalistically designed with no touch of personal memories in the form of pictures or belongings. The furniture was too clean, the art too abstract, the rooms too empty. It had always felt more like a museum rather than a home for you - grand, impressive and utterly overwhelming.

You had spent days endlessly wandering between the floors and looking out of the gigantic window across the river out of which one side of the penthouse was entirely crafted, spanning over two levels. This was the only thing you liked about your home as it was easier to dream yourself away while watching the sunset. Many times, you had imagined living on the other side of the river, too. Where it wasn’t all filled with stuck up millionaires, people too focused on changing their appearances and overall shallowness.

You had tried so hard to connect with this life, but even though you had grown up wealthily on this side of the river as well, there was one thing you were missing but had been showered with all throughout your childhood right until your marriage: love, comfort, warmth.

“I wonder how much this is?”

Your lawyer had picked up an ornate porcelain vase from the side table and threw it into the air. Your heart nearly stopped as you watched the decor flying off and gasped. Reaching out your hands, you tried to catch the vase yourself, but a moment later, it was landing safely in your lawyer’s hands again, who then turned to you, grinning.

“I guess it's very expensive,” he concluded.

You yanked the vase out of his hands and returned it to where it belonged. “Don’t do that again! This decor is finely picked out by my in-laws, and if there is only one vase slightly out of arrangement or one single statue looking in the wrong direction when they come over - which is almost every day - hell will break loose.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “That’s exactly what I imagined after what you told me about them. How can someone endure living here anyway?”

“I’m tougher than you think, Mr. Jeong.”

“Hm.” His eyes then fell on your appearance and scanned you up and down. “At first glance, you look like you totally belong here with your pantsuit and perfectly styled hair.”

“Just because I look like I belong here, doesn’t mean I do, Mr. Jeong.”

“Wise words for someone so young who doesn’t always make wise decisions, ma’am.”

You exhaled deeply. “Can we get over this as quickly as possible? You came here for a reason, right? Let’s get seated on the living room and-”

“Seats won’t be necessary,” he waved off. “You have to show me around your home.”

“And why would I have to do that?”

“Your husband is overseas on a business trip you’ve said, and I have to get a picture of the physical possessions, with how much money we’re dealing with apart from bank accounts, shares and all that stuff.”

“I see, that makes sense. But nothing here belongs to me, though.”

“That’s even better.” He turned around. “Which room is that?”

“The living room.”

“Great. Let’s start there.” Your lawyer entered the area as though he knew the place by heart while questioning, “You mentioned your in-laws visit here every day, Mrs. Kang?”

“Almost,” you partially affirmed while following him. “I guess they can’t let go of their son… and their need to control me.”

“What would they need to control about you? Are you somehow involved in their business?”

Your lawyer looked around in the gigantic living room that faced the panorama window reaching from the ground to the ceiling on the second floor. The sofa was placed in the middle of the area, right in a pit that was accessible by two steps built into the ground, encircling a marble coffee table probably worth a single-family house. Right next to it was a billiard table, most likely valuable just as much. This was going to be a very long evening, considering the inventory and the prices.

“I’m not involved in their business, Mr. Jeong.” You paused for a short while, invisible struggling with something inwardly. But you came to the conclusion that if you couldn’t tell your attorney, who then? “In fact, I’m secretly building my own one.”

“Oh?” He raised a brow. “Which kind of business?”

You remained silent for a few moments until he shifted to you and looked at you with inquiring eyes. “A bridal shop.”

You had already prepared a few witty responses, because whenever you told people about your business idea, they started laughing at you. Especially your in-laws. They had laughed at you so hard and shrugged your idea off immediately that you had never brought it up to them ever again. And your husband? He hadn’t even acknowledged it. You were not allowed to work in this marriage anyway.

That was why you almost desperately needed to win this case and all your money back - to fulfill your dream and reunite with your family. You could do that. That was how much you believed in yourself. Just nobody else ever did.

“So you like wedding dresses, ma’am?” your lawyer asked almost in passing, but there was no mocking undertone in his voice. “Somehow very ironic for someone who’s filing for divorce, don’t you think?”

“It’s my passion, Mr. Jeong.”

“How come?”

“I told you I will always have hope and I will always believe in love. That’s what I want to pass on as a message to someone like me. Someone who has found the love of their life, no matter for the first, second or third time, someone full of hope and brightness. Just because you haven’t experienced it yet or because one love has ended, doesn’t mean you’ll never experience this special kind of connection ever. It makes me happy to be part of something so significant. It keeps me going, it keeps me… hopeful, you know.”

“So you want to be part of other people’s special day to keep the thought alive that one day, you will still find the love of your life?” 

You clicked your tongue over the fact that everything coming out of his mouth sounded so… negative. “If you want to put it like this… I rather see it as an opportunity to share your happiness with equal minded people.”

“Why wedding dresses and not flowers then? Isn’t it more fulfilling to bring joy to people’s everyday life with flowers they give someone else most of the time?”

“You’re right, Mr. Jeong.” You smiled as you did not disagree with each other on this topic. “But my mother is a fashion designer and my father is an art dealer, so that’s the natural trajectory of my life. I love fashion, even if it doesn’t look like it. But there is only very little you can experiment with style-wise when all eyes are on you and you have to keep up a certain reputation according to your in-laws. I hide a lot of pent-up creativity not many people know of.”

“Oh, who would have guessed you’re not always all pantsuits and pencil skirts, Mrs. Kang.” He shrugged. “So you truly believe in it?”

“In what?”

“In love that lasts a lifetime.”

“As I said, Mr. Jeong… if we cease to believe in love… what is there to live for?”

"Wealth. Popularity. Freedom. Fun.” He snickered, but not in a way in which he made fun of you. He was more impressed by his own funny answer.

“But you have no one to share this with. Doesn’t your happiness then only last for so long?”

“Oh, I do have people to share this all with. Just because finding love is not my priority doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy the company of beautiful women.”

You let out a deep sigh, but he shrugged your reaction off. Despite that, you had ended the topic on a  good note, because for the very first time ever, you were allowed to talk about your passion without getting cut off immediately.

By that time, you had already arrived at the kitchen. It was an impressively wide, open room made of expensive white marble which appeared unused for ages as it was spotless and shiny. As a matter of fact, just as it appeared, it was never used by anyone in this family - that much was true. This kitchen functioned only as a showroom when the family had guests over to lay out the appetizers and the buffet.

“So you have people who cook for you?” your lawyer concluded.

“It’s a personal cook that has gotten hired, yes.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Must be nice being rich, having people cook and clean for you every day.”

“Trust me, Mr. Jeong,” you opposed, “it’s not all that.”

You both then continued on to the second floor, and you could see him turning more and more impressed with the fact how your house was furnished. Not only the first floor was luxurious, but every other room as well. If there was something touching the ground or the walls, one could be sure that its worth came at least close to a small car, from furniture to decoration.

“Do you have to go in there?” you pressed through gritted teeth, and your lawyer rolled his eyes as you both stood in front of the closed master bedroom. “It’s a private area and there is not much inside.”

“Unless you have some secret toys lying out in the open, there is nothing to be ashamed of, we all know what’s going on in bedrooms, don’t we, Mrs. Kang?”

He grinned, unaware of the fact that there hadn’t been something going on in this bedroom for at least a year already. You also suppressed a gasp about his unhinged comment that was not very gentleman-like. But you also weren’t surprised your divorce lawyer, who always told you to play dirty, would leave dirty comments as well. You would just ignore them like the lady you got trained to represent.

“I guess you’re not sharing the bedroom anymore?” your lawyer asked as he wandered around in your private chamber after having opened the space.

“What has this got anything to do with my divorce?” you wanted to know, slightly enraged.

“A lot. If you can confirm that you haven’t shared a bed in quite a time, it’s easier to believe that your marriage has been in the shambles for so long and not a decision simply made overnight.”

“Divorce is never a decision simply made overnight, Mr. Jeong,” you clarified, but he corrected you instantly, 

“I didn’t mean it that way, Mrs. Kang. You will wonder how many clients come to me directly the day after they caught their partner cheating and change their minds to return to them a few days later. I want to know how serious you are and that it’s not a decision made on an impulse.”

“I don’t love my husband anymore, Mr. Jeong. Isn’t my tone sincere enough, my expression when I talk about my failed marriage? The fact I go through these lengths at my age?” Your voice got louder and louder, but he didn’t interfere. “But if you need to know about that part of my life too, then yes, I can confirm that my husband and I haven’t shared this bed for a little over a year already as he’s sleeping in his office.”

“Relax, okay?” he comforted you as you had ended your speech. “I was only asking.”

You dropped your head, suddenly ashamed of your slight blow up. “I’m sorry. That’s not… I’m usually not like this.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s normal to feel all these emotions going through a divorce. Sometimes, you need a ventil. It won’t be the last time that you talk to me like that, so let it all out. You’ll be surprised how much it helps.”

He was right, you thought to yourself, feeling a little bit lighter around your chest. But to your disadvantage, you bathed in that moment for a second too long and missed your lawyer opening another door in your bedroom of which he had probably assumed was your walk-in-closet.

“No, don-”

You stretched out your hand and wanted to reach him, but you weren’t fast enough and could only watch the door swing open, revealing a small room next to the bedroom that was certainly too spacious to only be a closet.

Instead, what he found in the room was a crib by the window where dim light was making its way through half-closed curtains. A light shade of yellow had been chosen for the tapestry, matching the beige carpet while the remaining furniture such as the changing unit and the crib itself were white. A few pictures on the walls added a playful undertone to the room, but that was it.

“I was only allowed to choose the pictures,” you explained recently as you slowly approached him. “They are sunflowers in different shapes. You know what sunflowers stand for?” You smiled meekly. “They stand for happiness and joy. This room should have brought me happiness and joy, but instead, it gave me years of sadness.”

He didn’t ask. Perhaps, he could figure it out himself as you had neither mentioned nor brought a child to your appointments with him. If not, then he sensed it wasn’t the right time to push the topic just yet.

“Let’s go,” your lawyer eventually exclaimed and closed the door behind him. “Let’s make your living room a bit messy when I unpack my laptop and we note down the cost of every item in here. That’s gonna be fun!”

He sometimes came off as rude and uncouth, but he knew when to stop talking.

_____

“What’s that?” You unpacked the plastic bag in front of you and pulled out a black long sleeve, black pants, black sneakers and a black beanie as you unsuccessfully attempted to crack a joke, “Were black clothes on sale today?”

“Those are your clothes for tonight.”

“If you haven't noticed yet, Mr. Jeong…” You looked down on yourself. “My style is classic, elegant. Not streetstyle, not coquette, or whatever this is. I’m still representing the family I married into and cannot wear this.”

“I’m sorry, but black cashmere sweaters were not on sale today, ma’am,” your lawyer said, and as you drew a closer look at him, you noticed that he was dressed all in black already too, and not in his usual suit, but more casual, even wearing a beanie himself. “Now undress and change into the clothes that I brought.”

“What would I wear this for?” You lifted up your hands and pulled up the pants. You usually never wore pants. “Where are we going? To the club? I don’t go to clubs.”

“No, we’re going to your house.”

“And why would we need these clothes if we’re going there?”

Somehow, you sensed you wouldn’t like the answer at all. “Because we’re going to rob you.”

“I- I don’t understand. Robbing… me? My home? While I’m there?”

“No.” Your lawyer came over to you, took the beanie out of the bag and then put it on your own head. He pulled the ends down into your face, messing up your slick bun so that a few strands stuck into your forehead. “Fits you perfectly.”

“Do you mean…”

The corners of his lips tilted up. “Exactly. You’re going to rob your own house.”

“Are you nuts?!”

“Ma’am, these words out of your mouth?” He snickered. “Change into the new clothes and then we can go.”

“What should this be good for?”

“It sounds cliche, but you really can’t see people who dress in black in the dark very clearly.”

“No, I mean robbing my home. What should that be good for?”

“Ah, that.” He scratched the back of his head. “When there is nothing of value in the house, then there are no items to fight over, hence less work for us. You said you didn’t care about his possessions, right? Then he won’t have anything left in the morning. We’re only going to grab jewelry and this kind of stuff for you to keep or sell. Just out of spite.”

You gasped in shock. “That’s illegal! I’m pretty sure that’s even a crime!”

“I can guarantee you,” he confirmed, “this is a crime on paper. Remember you told me you could play dirty?”

When you had agreed on playing dirty when it was needed, you had hoped that it was only a formality, that he was exaggerating or just wanted to test your willpower. You had never expected you both standing in front of your dark home in the middle of the night, dressed up as robbers just to do exactly that: commit a robbery.

With your arms crossed to hide your shaking limbs, you looked around nervously, sending a quick prayer to the heavens. Even though you lived on the highest floor and had used several backdoors through the building so that no one would know you had even entered in the first place, you still felt the risk of getting caught any second.

“This doesn’t help me at all,” your lawyer complained while handling the entrance door with different tools that made noises and left traces a little too obvious for your liking. 

“There is CCTV everywhere here and you just ruined the door’s frame,” you whispered in agony. “When my husband reports the robbery, they will check the time and date and then see us somewhere!”

“Do you think it’s my first time doing this?” he answered calmly while the door then opened smoothly with almost no sound. You furrowed your brows in question and wondered. Wasn’t the alarm supposed to go off? With a smug smile, your lawyer arose from his position and pushed the door entirely open. “Of course I had let the entire grid be turned off.”

You blinked in confusion. “How?”

“Again, you’ll wonder how far one comes in this country with just a little bribery.”

“That’s not very ethical,” you chided.

“You know what’s not ethical either?” He locked eyes with you. “Your husband taking all the money that’s legally yours from before your marriage, leaving you with no seed capital to start anew, with no prospects. Yes, it’s in the prenup, but what gives him the right to rob you like that just because it’s written on some piece of paper? Ma’am, the world is not a fair place,” he said confidently. “Sometimes, you just have to accept that. So, let’s go on a robbery.”

Your eyes narrowed, your nervosity completely wiped by now. “Let’s start with his office on the ground floor. I know he has some very expensive jewelry stored openly in there.”

Your lawyer’s grin widened. “Perfect.”

He had destroyed the door in a way that carried evidence of forced entry for the police investigation. On your way to the suggested room, you moved through the living area as well, and your lawyer had made it his mission to throw over some chairs and a small side table that had once carried some valuable crystal figurines that your mother in law liked to collect. They then all laid shattered on the floor.

“That was crystal!” you cried out. “Do you know how much it was worth? That was not necessary!”

“We’re on a robbery, not on a shopping trip at Tiffany’s,” he groaned. “Do robbers look like they care about some figurines? They come in a hurry and take everything valuable they can get in a short amount of time. They want the big stuff, gold, silver, money, jewelry… they don’t care for porcelain, vases… or whatever this was, things that are too big and break easily. Remember, we’re robbers, we have to make it look like we don’t care. Now, show me where he keeps his valuables stored.”

“There is way too much valuable stuff. How are we supposed to carry all of it?”

“We won’t.”

Your lawyer moved to the huge cabinet in the living area, stopped there for a moment, and then threw his entire body against the furniture. You let out a loud gasp, and another one as he pushed against the cabinet one more time, bringing it to a fall along with the pieces that were stored inside, instantly shattering in the process. The noise was immense and you had to cover your ears. He might not look like it in his suit, but now that he was only wearing a rather tight shirt, you noticed that your lawyer was very well built and that this was the reason why the cabinet hadn’t stood a chance from the beginning. 

He let out a “Phew!” as he turned to you and wiped over his forehead. “You can take on destroying his files and papers, just everything important to him. Let me handle this physical stuff. Don't worry, I made sure the neighbors on the floor beneath weren’t there tonight.”

You understood why you had to do this. If there weren’t many valuable items you had to fight over, the higher would be the chance they would let you off with your own money and the less time and nerves it would take to finalize the divorce, yet the sentiments that tied you to this place…

… they were nonexistent.

Opening all of your husband’s cabinets, rummaging through them and pulling stuff out just to scatter them everywhere felt somewhat very satisfying. You saw all his important files and papers on the ground and stomped on them like a maniac. Everything he worked so hard for, everything he owned while trying to steal from you simultaneously like he had done all your life already. Back in the days, you had just been too young and naive to notice.

You had held back so much during all this time and had never found a way to verbalize your feelings. A lady didn’t do that. A lady was always graceful and just endured. Right now though, you didn’t feel very ladylike. And it was the best feeling in so long.

You only stopped when your lawyer stood there next to you, arms folded across his chest, and there was an edge of mocking delight in his voice when he asked, “You’re done already?”

You lowered your head as he had caught you red-handed, but you also couldn’t wipe off the faint beam that remained on your lips even when he started rummaging through your husband’s cabinets in search of the watches you had told him were stored in there.

“I wasn’t aware he has such a large collection of the most expensive watches in the world,” your lawyer commented when he lightened up a drawer with the flashlight. “If I keep one to myself, would he notice? But then again, he won’t see any of these again anyway. So maybe I should ask you?”

You let out a long sigh and grabbed the watch from him that you then threw into the bag that he had brought along with. “That’s not funny. I think you make enough money to buy yourself an expensive watch.”

“Not this brand, but well…”

You rolled your eyes and continued with the sham robbery on the lower floor before moving on to the second. It was easy to destroy your own belongings as well. You didn’t feel any sentiment as you had expected. Over time, you had grown so resentful, at this point, you just really didn’t care anymore, except for…

“Don’t. Not inside there!” You threw yourself against the door your lawyer had initiated to open. There was no way he didn’t know what kind of room this was after his last visit, so he went in there with a purpose. As you lifted your head, a flash of empathy crossed his face, but you stopped your pleading gaze from breaking eye contact with him. “Please…”

You had been wrong. There was still something your sentiments were tied to in this place, the room where your baby should have lived.

“I’m sorry,” you heard him tell you with the lowest and softest form of tone he had ever addressed you with. “But if we leave this room out, then something is off. We have to at least rummage-”

Your front teeth pressed into your lower lip as you struggled with either making way for him or fighting him. You had hoped that, regardless of how much time had already passed, your past could always remain here as long as you kept this room locked up - just as your memories.

Letting another person inside would mean you had to close this chapter. And even if your therapist back then had also advised you to change this room into another event space and move on, you had never brought your heart to agree to that. What would happen if you moved out eventually? Wasn’t this the best opportunity to finally take this step? But it came so sudden…

“Can I still keep something?” you asked timidly. “My husband never entered this room, so he wouldn't miss anything, and I know what you want to say… I understand. Just please… one thing I can keep for myself? Maybe a jumper or a toy…”

It took a long while until he shrugged and eventually said, “You know… I don’t think there are robbers this cruel who would destroy a baby room. I mean…” He opened the door, but didn’t go inside. “No one would hide valuable possessions inside here anyway. Let’s go.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, and you wondered whether your tone could even carry a tiny fragment of the relief you were feeling right now to your lawyer, expressing how grateful you were for his understanding and gentleness, even though in his world, it might not make much sense at all. 

If he noticed the depth of your gratitude after all, with him risking your scam just to leave you this tiny piece of sentiment, then he didn’t bother showing you.

“Now off to my favorite part… the safe!”

“We won’t reach what’s inside there,” you warned him. “I even doubt his beloved mother knows the passcode to that.”

“Oh, we won’t get to steal what’s inside. But we will try. Ever used a crowbar to hit against something? It’s fun! Letting out a little anger. You’ll like it.”

Oh, how much you indeed came to like it.

____

“Very well.”

Your lawyer seemingly skimmed over the police report before he placed it aside on his desk, deeming it as done. Only a week after the incident, you had brought him a copy of the official papers that your husband had filed to confirm that everything was going according to plan.

After your fake robbery, you had pretended to arrive at home and called your husband in feigned shock that sounded so real over the phone, you nearly believed it yourself. Since he had been in a neighboring city only, he had arrived two hours later, and the performance you had put on in front of him and the police was nearly Oscar-worthy.

“Then, you only have to sign this.” Your lawyer had pulled out another set of documents from a staple on this desk and slid them over to you. “Exactly here, please.”

“What is this?” You read something about a bank in a whole other country that was unfamiliar to you, and a bank account under a name that was unfamiliar, too. “I cannot sign for another person.”

“I know. That’s why you will sign as this person whose name the account is booked under.”

“That’s not legal, I could go to jail for that!”

“This again?” your lawyer groaned. “This is the bank account onto which we will transfer all your money and hide it from your husband and his family. It is required for you to make sure you will keep your inheritance. It will take a few weeks, because of course we can’t just book your whole trust fund money onto another bank from one day to the other, it will take a few steps.”

“So basically money laundering,” you concluded cautiously.

“That’s the legal term, yes. I would describe it as…” He pursed his lips as though he was really thinking hard to come up with something. “Playing hide and seek. It’s suddenly gone and you don’t know exactly how long it will take, but eventually, you’ll always find it.”

You rolled your eyes, but signed the papers nonetheless.

“Very well. Now, grab your purse,” your lawyer summoned while he was taking off his glasses and arose from his chair. “We’re going to celebrate.”

“Celebrate? Celebrate what?”

“This success.” He put on his suit coat, circled his desk and picked up your purse from the chair next to you himself, thrusting it into your lap as you hadn’t made any move to reach for it yourself.. 

“Okay, but where?”

“Can you drink?”

“Not really.”

“Very well, then I’ll teach you.”

You reluctantly got up from your seat as you suspiciously asked, “Is this something you do with all your clients, Mr. Jeong?”

You were only able to watch his back when he opened the door and admitted, “Only with the ones I like.”

While you were still pondering whether his words had been a compliment, he had decided to take you to a shady bar, at a part of the city where you would never set foot in. It was dim and smelled strongly of smoke. The majority of the guests were male, there was a billiard table in the center, and on the menu were only beer and harder beverages.

“This is not the kind of establishment I usually frequent, Mr. Jeong,” you judged harshly while you struggled to find a comfortable position on the bar stool next to your lawyer.

“No, I don’t think you frequent any bar at all.” He had let himself plop on the stool next to you, took off his jacket and ordered two drinks you hadn’t heard of and neither ever sipped on before. “I purposely brought you here. You thought we were going to visit some kind of fancy rooftop hotel bar? Sorry to disappoint you.”

You scanned your environment with raised brows and a look that made men look back at you - but not in the open kind way. They were rather skeptical and curious. Your lawyer was still the best dressed here, everyone else was wearing casual clothes like they had just hopped by after work. They sensed you didn’t belong here, their faces spoke volumes.

“Don’t worry, these guys are harmless and actually nice. They just want a good drink and company before heading home alone, back to their dark and lonely room. It’s just… they don’t see women here that often.”

“I figured that much. What is this place even? Why are we here, Mr. Jeong?”

“It's a place to have fun! Try having fun, will you? Here.” He slid one of the two glasses the barkeeper had just dropped off on the counter closer to you. “Drink. Maybe this will help you to finally loosen up. And drop the ‘Mr. Jeong’-stuff, we’re off duty now.”

You knew there was no way you could say no, and even though you were doubtfully sniffing on the drink, trying to guess what it could be, you had to empty it under your lawyer’s watchful eyes.

“Oh my god!” You were coughing while your entire face heated up. You felt the liquid burning through your throat, making its way all the way to your stomach and settling there with a heat you had rarely encountered before. “What is this?!”

“It’s a drink to have fun! Are you having fun yet?”

“No!”

“Very well.” He downed his own beverage and then raised his hand. “Barkeeper, we need another two of these.”

You didn’t know how long it took for your perception of time to start shifting. You also didn’t know why you didn’t stop drinking, and certainly not why you didn’t say no. He wouldn’t have forced you, that much you were certain of. Maybe it was because you were truly weak. But maybe, in some kind of twisted circumstance, you were truly starting to have fun.

“Here, hold this.” You thrusted your purse and your jacket into Jaehyun’s hands. “I can’t look at this misery any longer.”

You rolled up the sleeves of your blouse and opened the first two buttons before - suddenly feeling not too hot and cramped in your own skin anymore - you strutted over to the men who had gathered around the billiard table, ready to start another set of games.

“May I join?” you asked into the round and earned many curious looks back. “Trust me guys, I’m really good at this.”

You had played billiard in your home so often, it started to bore you the better you got at this game. And with time, it had started to really dread you, because there had never been anyone to play with the many hours a day had to offer. 

“Miss, I don’t think-”

“Let her.” You didn’t see him, but you felt Jaehyun’s presence right behind you. Your chest swelled with confidence and pride. “She said she can do it, so let her.”

The men threw questioning looks at each other, but it didn’t take them too long until they all agreed to let you join, and one of them handed a queue over to you. “Ladies first.”

If your confidence had rooted from the alcohol you had chugged earlier, its effect was starting to lack now, because suddenly, you didn’t feel so full of yourself anymore. You bowed down lightly and positioned yourself on one side of the table. You usually started here, playing at home, but abruptly, you got so nervous with all these men looking at you with a certain edge of judgment they were unsuccessfully trying to conceal. 

If you failed the game’s opening, there would be no coming back from it, the momentum missed. You would play bad and they would all make fun of you. Maybe it would be better if you just backed down now…

“Well, well, well…”

You felt a palm on your lower back as you made attempts to arise from your position, keeping you in place as the hand gently pressed against the push upwards that you made. Jaehyun was preventing you from giving up.

He bowed down to you and whispered into your ear, “You don’t have to impress anyone. Just loosen up, let it go and have fun.”

You closed your eyes and breathed in deeply. He didn’t retreat his hand when you opened them again and angled the queue. He didn’t retreat his hand when you pulled back and pushed into the billiard balls. He only retreated his hand when you turned around to him, throwing your arms around his neck to celebrate that you had immediately put three balls into the holes.

You didn’t know when your hair had loosened and now fell in soft waves around your shoulders. You didn’t know when you had opened a third and fourth button on your blouse, revealing a bit of your undershirt. You also had lost count of the amount of drinks you had already downed the further the night processed.

But what you knew was that you had incredible fun.

“Did you see that, Jaehyun?” You were jumping up and down in front of him after winning another game against one of the bar visitors. “I won again!”

“Yes.” He smiled softly, like you had never seen before. “Well done.”

You tilted your head, your lipstick long gone, your cheeks heated. “It suits you so well, Jaehyun.”

“What?”

“That smile.” You beamed back. “Maybe you should wear this expression more often than that scorny grin. I like this one better.”

You couldn’t clearly see in the dim lightning, but you could swear you caught his ears turn red, and it was incredibly cute.

“Alright, brandy blossom,” Jaehyun then called out after you had won another game. “Time to go home before your hubby returns.”

“Already?” you pursed your lips and put down the queue. 

“You don’t want to be caught reeking of alcohol, all disheveled, right?”

You gasped and stemmed your hands against your hips. “Of course not! Just… another round, please? I need to properly say goodbye to my new friends.”

He gave in, knowing he didn’t stand a chance against the sad face you and the men you had been playing with pulled all at once.

Seemingly annoyed, Jaehyun sighed. “But just one.”

____

“Jaehyun, everything is spinning.” You leaned against him while he put an arm around you and kept you on your feet as you entered the elevator. “And I feel sick.”

“That’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let you play another round and have a last farewell drink with the other guests.” He pressed the button and watched the door close in front of you both.

“But I had so much fun,” you said as you looked for support by stemming yourself against the elevator wall. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve had this much fun. I would do it all over again. Can we do this again sometime, please… Jaehyun?”

You didn’t know if Jaehyun ever replied to that as you closed your eyes and drifted away. You were moving, that much you knew, or was it all in your memory as well? You didn’t use your own body, but felt like you were being carried, not having to put your feet down. You were floating and a slight breeze pulling on the ends of your hair strands suggested that somewhere, a window must have opened, and then you fell…

… but on a soft cloud.

Your eyes reluctantly opened and you saw Jaehyun bending over you, worry sketched all over his face.

“Thank god!” he exclaimed in relief. “I thought you were passed out.”

“I feel so sweaty and smelly, Jaehyun,” you complained to him, starting to unbutton your blouse’s remaining buttons. “I have to change.”

“I’ll bring you the bathrobe.” But he wasn’t able to leave your side as your hand reached out to him and locked him down with a tight grip around his wrist.

“Please don’t go,” you whined, very much under the influence. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

“I won’t”, he spoke with a voice so gently, even in this state you wondered if it was the same person you spoke to about your divorce. You felt a palm touching your temple, swiping away a few hair strands. “I’ll just bring you a fresh bathrobe.”

Still, you refused and shook your head. “Please stay.”

It didn’t take him a second to answer, “Fine, I’ll stay.”

You drew a deep breather, staring at the half-darkened ceiling that was semi blurry in your drunken state. Only a small light was on, somewhere in the corner. Perhaps, it was the alcohol speaking the following words, but suddenly, you got so sad and hid your face by placing your forearm on your head. 

“Actually, you know… I’m so scared of getting divorced.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m scared that I’ll be alone all my life, after all.”

This time, Jaehyun’s answer took him much longer as if he was carefully thinking about each word. “You’re the most fascinating woman I’ve ever encountered. You won’t be having any struggles attracting men who are handsome and treat you well, I’m sure about that. Just this time, choose widely.”

“I don’t think I want to get married so fast again,” you confessed. “I think next time, I will take it slow. I want to get a degree and open my business first. Then, I want to get married again.”

“That sounds very reasonable. You hadn’t had a chance to enjoy your youth much.”

“But I don’t want one night stands, flings, short-lived encounters…” You dared to peek from under your arm and eventually withdrew it from your face to look at Jaehyun properly. “What if I meet my true love during that time? Will he wait until I’m ready?”

He spoke with confident sincerity that was reflected in his expression as he assured you, “If he truly loves you, then he will wait.”

“But… I want to experience the love I am able to give. What if there is really only one love we get to have in a lifetime, and he has been this love for  me? What if I’ve used up all of my love for this life already?”

“That’s nonsense,” Jaehyun instantly dismissed. “Love is endless, you cannot use it up. Especially you. You have so much love to give, you cannot be the only person out there. You will meet someone whose love is as endless as yours, I promise.”

“How much love have you got left, Jaehyun? Is it still endless too?”

Only at this moment, you realized that you hadn’t let go of his wrist all along. Only at this moment, when he twisted your both’s fingers in a way that intertwined them. Your chest welled up, you hadn’t felt this cared for in what felt like an eternity.

“Yes,” he whispered. “It��s still endless too.”

“Then I’m glad,” you replied with a smile before drifting off to sleep.

____

You didn’t know when you last had fallen asleep with your husband on the same bed, let alone holding hands with him and having his arms wrapped around you from the back. Waking up groggily on your soft bedding, you first saw your intertwined hands resting on your hip, your husband breathing delicately with his face buried in your nape.

It was odd. You didn’t feel put off or disgusted even as normally whenever he even tried to have some kind of body contact with you. No, you felt content, comfortable and warm. So, so warm.

Except for… as your eyes scanned the room, it dawned on you that this was not your house’s wall and neither was that your window you were looking at. This wasn’t your bed either, and behind you was certainly not your husband laying. 

“No, no, no!” Your breath caught and you sat up straight on the mattress, waking up your lawyer with your hectic movements. “No, this can’t be!”

“What’s going on?” He instantly arose into a seating position although his eyes were barely opened yet. “You’re leaving already? It’s only… 6am.”

“Yes!” you screeched and escaped the entangled sheets, starting to adjust your pulled up skirt and open blouse. Your cheeks heated up and you turned around, away from your lawyer’s peripheral so as to not reveal more of your body to him than you already had. “I was supposed to be home by last night! Why am I here? Is this a hotel?”

“You were so drunk, you could barely walk and always drifted off to sleep, I couldn’t just bring you home. I just wanted to make sure…” He paused and then shrugged. “Whatever.”

“Oh my god, what do I tell my husband?” You ran your fingers through your disheveled hair and tried to clean your clothes. You could barely remember the last night. “Where is my phone?”

“Here.” Your lawyer held up the device in front of you. “Zero messages and zero missed calls. Can you calm down now, please? I’ll drive you.”

You took your phone into your hand and looked at it in utter confusion. “That’s strange. Usually, he would call me when I’m not home or at least send me a message. Let’s just hope he didn’t bother checking up in the first place, that would be the best case.” A very unwell feeling suddenly crept up your body, laying itself on your chest and slowly cutting off your air. “Something is off. I need to go home. Really, I need to go home right now.”

Rather cold hands suddenly placed themselves on your left and right cheek, cupping your face. Your lawyer looked straight at you with penetrating eyes. “Please, I need you to calm down first. Now.”

You tried shaking your head, but his grip was too strong. “I can’t-”

“Yes, you can.” There was no talking back. He wouldn’t let you go otherwise. “Calm down, then get dressed and I’ll take you home. Spiraling right now is not helpful. Try collecting your thoughts and then act according to it.”

So you tried as he told you and closed your eyes. You took a few deep breathers, but even though you could set your body at peace just a little bit, your heart still refused to do so. And you got a feeling it was not because of what was awaiting you at home, but rather because your lawyer stood so close to you. It was his presence that caused you to be all irritated at this moment.

A few memory threads flowed into each other again, and pieces of last night seeped back into your mind… Your hands around his neck, his soft smile, his gentle words, his arms carrying you to the hotel room, his fingers intertwined with yours, his chest pressed against your back in your sleep…

You looked at him, utterly petrified. Had you just cheated on your husband?

“You’re coming?” he asked.

You followed him out of the hotel room and into the elevator. You didn’t say a single word and he didn’t pick up a topic to talk about either, so you just remained silent and avoided eye contact at all cost. You wondered if he felt the same way about your unexpected intimacy from the night before: guilty and ashamed - against yourself. 

That was what you would describe it, but it was not what entirely described the bigger picture. Because why else would you have wished not to be still married right now just to have laid in bed with your lawyer for a bit longer?

“Checkout, please,” you heard him say as you stood next to him, totally lost.

Your husband was an attractive man, but your lawyer… You watched his back bend, messy strands falling into his forehead, a crinkled shirt tightening around his chest. A small part of you that had supposedly taken control over you last night, yearned for him in a way you had never yearned for a man before, not even your own husband.

You suddenly broke out in cold sweat and had to look away, fingers gripping tightly onto the jacket in your hand. You were still a married woman, you were not supposed to feel this way about another man yet, even though you didn’t love your husband anymore. You still belonged to him on paper…

“Let’s go.” Your lawyer looked at you, frowning. “Are you okay? You look feverish.”

He wanted to touch your forehead, but you quickly turned your head away. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t believe you, but let it rest. “Fine.”

You trotted after him, feeling torn about what was morally right and the desires that had started to involuntarily get into your head.

____

Something was off at home, because nobody was there.

You and your husband didn’t speak often except for the necessities. Most of the time, he would sleep at his office in the house, coming back late in the night and leaving early in the morning. Sometimes, when it was very late, he didn’t bother to check up on you at all, assuming you were asleep already. For last night, you had just hoped that it was this exact case.

And just as you were standing there in the lobby, kind of lost and still groggy with a slight hangover starting to announce itself, you got a phone call.

“Hey,” you greeted.

“Hey,” your husband greeted back. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it home last night, and I won’t be able to come back today either. There is too much going on in the company.”

You didn’t bother to care anymore, you hadn’t in a long time. You were just relieved that last night didn’t have any consequences. “I understand.”

“Is mother already gone?”

“M… mother?” 

Your blood froze and your vision shifted to a silhouette that was just revealing itself in the corner and slowly stepping into the weak daylight. You had judged too early, weighed yourself in safety too fast as there it was, your consequences.

“Yes,” your husband responded. “Don’t you think it was nice of her to spend the night, because she was worried you would be alone after the robbery? Anyway, I have to hang up and get back to work. Bye.”

Your arm slowly slipped down, fingers barely still holding onto the phone as you looked at your mother-in-law like you were facing a ghost.

“By the looks of it, it seems like someone’s had a rough night.”

You did your best to keep your voice low and conceal the trembling tone that came along with your answer, “I was at a friend’s house last night.”

Your mother-in-law snickered and approached you, her face not changing a bit - the result of year long surgeries. She was smaller than you and certainly older, but something so wicked and deeply evil had always been surrounding this woman that even her own sons wouldn’t dare to look into her eyes without permission.

Secretly, she was the one running and pulling the strings behind the company, the entire conglomerate even, stemming from one of the country’s richest families for centuries. At least that was what she liked to tell, but your research didn’t reveal such connections. That didn’t make her appearance less intimidating though as even her own husband looked small next to her.

“Don’t fool me, darling. You don’t have any friends.”

Two years ago, you would have apologized deeply and fallen to your knees, begging for forgiveness, even if it meant kneeling for days. But you weren’t the intimidated girl from shortly after your marriage anymore. Losing your child had shaped you deeply and the divorce was the final stage, not the process - even though you still had weak moments. You decided this wouldn’t be one of them.

“You don’t know anything about me or my life.”

Somehow, you felt mentally so strong right now and straightened your shoulders to present self-confidence, aware of the fact that even though your way through this divorce was not the prettiest and most legal, it was the most effective. And truth to be told, they didn’t deserve a clean divorce anyway.

“I see it written all over your face,” she snarled. “You’ve been with another man.”

This woman didn’t deserve a glimpse of your new, true self at all.

This woman who had told her son, “If you had just waited half a year more, you wouldn’t have had to marry her and we wouldn’t have this burden in our family now.”

And the son who had just answered, “I’m sorry to be such a disgrace, mother.”

And you, the timid girl, you had just sat with them and swallowed every tear, because nobody in this family was supposed to cry - not even after losing your own child.

You wondered if that had been the moment you started slowly losing the love for your husband who you had deeply loved from the first the moment he struck up a conversation with you at the university where he had been invited to as a guest speaker. Three months in, you got pregnant and another three months later, were married. 

You had never graduated with your degree, but you hadn’t cared, because you had loved him deeply. For you, it had always been enough - but never for his family. It struck you the moment you had lost your baby and fell from grace.

For two more years, you had wondered whether you could restore the fading love or find another way to feel so deeply again. You had been stuck in a limbo where you questioned if it was some strange form of Stockholm Syndrome you had developed or whether you were just too weak of a person to break free, too afraid to never find love again. 

When one night two months ago, you had found your husband all immersed in work and family problems on the death anniversary of your child which he clearly had forgotten about, you had finally figured that he was a simple man who would always be under the control of his mother. There was no need to fight for what had long been lost. You were much stronger alone.

“You are only still here, because a divorce is a disgrace, never forget that and be grateful you have everything you need. Other women would happily trace places with you.”

“Then let them!” It was the first time you heard yourself raising your voice against her. “Let them replace me! You know we don’t love each other anymore, why don’t you let me go then?”

“Oh, darling.” Your mother-in-law stretched out her hand and touched your cheek. It felt ice cold, but you couldn’t move as your body turned to stone. “I would have, but you’re just so easy to keep here, why bother in the first place? I can keep you low and our reputation stored, it’s much better than dealing with a hassle.”

No, you weren’t easy to keep anymore anymore, you were just very good at hiding all of it and keeping up your facade. Maybe before, you would have caved and given in. Maybe before this all, you would have crouched in front of her. Maybe, before you hired your lawyer, you wouldn’t have had these thoughts at all. But only the imagination of him gave you everything you needed to fight back years of suppression. 

“I’m not scared of you.”

The slap came unexpectedly, leaving a visible mark on the side of your face. You gasped for air as you held onto the burning skin, your senses not coming together just yet over what had just happened. It felt like the spot got handled with many needles trying to push through a thin layer.

“The next time you’re robbing your own house, make sure to not leave footprints all over the scattered papers, the police might be onto something. I don’t know who’s helping you, if that person is a criminal or your affair, but if you really have some kind of shady thing going on behind my back, I will take you down and your entire family with you.” A threat so sharp that cut through the air like a knife. “Nobody knows about this, so I will do you a favor and keep it between us. If you continue with whatever you’re planning, I promise you, you will regret it deeply.”

Your family… you didn’t know when you had last seen them. You missed them dearly and there was no way you could put them in danger.

That was the only thing you could think of before you snapped back to reality as the entrance door closed behind you.

____

“Who did this to you?”

Your lawyer was kneeling in front of you, inspecting your bruised face with hands so gentle and a gaze so soft, it reminded you all of last night. You were sitting on the couch in his office, legs pulled up to your chest, staring at him but at the same time through him.

“Who?” he asked again as you didn’t respond, this time more insistently. He jumped back to his feet. “Who did this to you? Your husband?! I’m gonna k-”

Reluctantly, you shook your head. “No, it was my mother-in-law. She knows.”

“She knows about what? Whatever she knows, it doesn’t give her the right to physically abuse you!” You had never seen him this agitated and furious before as he walked around his office in a haste, apparently in search of something. 

“She knows that I’m onto something… with someone,” you admitted, fearing that he might get angry as you had not been careful enough. “She mentioned my shoe’s footprints over the scattered papers on the ground… I walked all over them, remember?”

“So what?” your lawyer dismissed in an instant. “This doesn’t mean anything. If this divorce makes it to the court, no judge will pay attention to this detail. You live in the house, naturally your footprints will be somewhere.”

You lowered your head, but sensed him walking back to you and pressing something against your cheek, providing instant relief to your burning skin. It was an empty, cold glass. “Sorry, I don’t have anything else here. I hope it helps.”

“Thank you.”

“What else did she say?” he inquired. “Whatever she said, I promise you, in this divorce, I will wring her out until she’s dry and has nothing left anymore. Then, I will push even further, that much I can do.”

“She’s right with everything she’s said to me,” you whispered absent-mindedly, rotating the glass on your skin so that the spot would always meet a cold surface. “I’m so easy to keep, that’s why I’m still there.” It was a paradox to you how a much older and tinier woman had brought up enough strength to hurt you this deeply, inwardly and outwardly. “But what was I supposed to do all this time? I’m from a reputable family and have willingly signed this contract, giving away my rights, my freedom. It was very convenient for them… I was only a convenience that had come along at the right time as their son wasn’t married yet. And then, I couldn’t even bear my child, and it turned me into a disgrace in an instant.”

“Stop!” your lawyer called out, bracing his arms against his desk that then creaked under his weight. His eyes were forcibly closed and there was a huge frown forming on his face. “Don’t ever talk about yourself like this again!”

“But it’s the truth!” you protested. “She may not be in the right, but she is right about me! I willingly agreed to cut off contact with my family, friends, everyone. And then it takes me two years to do something against it! Let’s face the truth…”

“Don’t say that,” he pleaded lowly, his knuckles turning white as he added more pressure to his grip against the desk’s edge. “It’s not like you. You were always so full of hope, in a fighting mode.”

“I still am!” you disagreed. “I still am full of hope and fighting, but let’s face the truth... I’m so young and I will have been through a divorce in the near future. I’ve lost a child, I don’t have a degree, no money for now, no prospects. Who would even want me anymore?”

You didn’t except an answer, it was only a rhetorical question, but he still gave you one,

“Me. I would.”

You heaved up your head, expecting to encounter a grin as your lawyer had just joked around to lift up your spirits in a meek attempt, but as you met his gaze, your breath caught. He was not kidding. He was dead serious, and by now you could quite well distinguish between his serious and joking demeanor.

“Jaehyun…”

His brows drew together, and he eventually broke out in a relieved smile, just a little bit. “Finally, you call me by my first name, even now.”

“Mr. Je- Jaeh-” You shook your head in confusion. You suddenly didn’t know what to think, say or even feel anymore. “Please don’t joke around, now is not the time.”

“I’m offended that you think I’m joking after all this time. I don’t make jokes about that.”

You dropped the glass on the cushion and jumped out of your seat, moving to the other end of the office room, far away from him. You couldn’t bear being so close to him with all that nonsense that he was speaking, because you feared that a big part of you wished for it to become true. 

“You know that I am looking for my one true love.”

“Who said it can’t be me?”

“I’m still married to Kang Seungmin.”

“Then I will have to hurry up with the divorce papers.”

“I want to get a degree and open my business before marrying again.”

“I’m willing to support that and wait.”

“You’re so full of life and I’m so broken.”

“Then I’ll bring you back to life too.”

Why did everything he say sound so illogical, yet so tempting? If life was only that easy as he always made it seem with his shady business, maybe there was still hope for you, too. You longed for the lighthearted young woman you had been in the past, and something inside you, maybe the remnants of her, believed that with him, she could find her way back to the surface.

“You don’t understand the depths of my trauma, you cannot love me, Mr. Jeong.” You turned back to the couch and picked up your purse. Walking towards the door, you told him, “I wish we would have met before all of this happened. I wish you would have met me when I was still in university. You would have liked me more back then and my life would have turned out differently.”

“Your life can still turn out differently, because it doesn’t matter when we would have met. I would have liked you all the same.”

You wanted to walk out, but your fingers remained on the door handle, refusing to move. Your cheeks were burning, but on both sides and for an entirely different reason now than shortly before. You were crying hot tears that were streaming down your face. “You don’t know what you’re saying…”

Suddenly, you felt his hot breath against your neck and flinched. But he didn’t touch you, no matter how desperately you wanted it, and you continued to fight against this desire. 

“We can also fall in love now, forget about the past and start again.”

“This is what you cannot understand,” you spoke earnestly. “I can never forget about the past, Mr. Jeong. And I refuse to do so, because it’s a part of me and will become a part of my partner too. My current husband has failed to allow this to happen to him.”

Then, your fingers were finally moving and you slipped out of his office. You used the stairs this time, running all the way to the ground floor. Only outside of the building, you were ready to come to a standstill and start breathing regularly again. You were sweating unlike ever before, hot and cold waves washing through your body.

But you continued your way by walking, walking all the way home, whether directly or in circles, you didn’t know. You just kept walking until it was nighttime, until you returned to your house where emptiness was awaiting you.

And as you stood there, alone in the darkness, you wondered how long it would take for it to consume you entirely.

You refused to let it get this far. Not again.

____

A few days later, you were standing in front of a grave that you generally avoided visiting except for only one time a year. The pain was too much to bear alone as nobody had ever bothered to accompany you.

This year, you were here for the second time - but this time you had company.

“I’m sorry if the things I’ve said back then were too insensitive,” Jaehyun apologized. “Just because I’m older doesn’t mean I’m more experienced. Of course I don’t know anything about your pain.”

“That’s why I brought you here,” you told him, your look unwavering from the small tombstone. “I want to share it with you. If you still want to love me after this, then I will believe you.”

…

When you found out that you were pregnant, you weren’t shocked like so many girls your age, who had just entered university, would generally feel. 

You were head over heels in love with your boyfriend who, despite your huge age gap and his position in the company, had made it his priority to shower you with gifts and love. That this was considered ‘love bombing’ and ‘grooming’, you would only figure out later. Up until this day, you were still convinced your love for him was real. It just wasn’t your fault that you were an easy target. It was his fault that he had even approached you in the first place as a grown man ten years older than you.

It only took one time for the two stripes on the test to appear. His happiness wasn’t feigned, and neither was yours. Of course you would drop out of university and get married. Marrying into this family would mean to never have to work anymore anyway and only caring for your child and husband. The fact that this was all convenient for a man who couldn’t keep a woman his age and was under so much pressure from his family, you would only figure out later. 

It was a shotgun wedding, but of course that wasn’t what was written all over the news. To his family’s luck, you weren’t showing yet and from a reputable background, but you had to hurry up with the wedding nonetheless. You were anticipating this child so much, even though your family tried to sabotage your wedding. That was probably why you were so easy to get talked into cutting off all contact with the people related to you. They didn’t understand you. The fact that they only tried to warn and save you, you would only figure out much later.

You signed away your inheritance, because what was yours was his, and thus for your child and every future child as well, it sounded all logical. You felt loved and cared for unlike ever before. Why be with your unsupportive family when every love and warmth you could find with your husband’s family? Other people looked for love all their lifetime and were unsuccessful. You were lucky to have found the love of your life at an early age. 

The fact that the people who told you you were too young to marry were not jealous, but only caring, you would only figure out much later…

… when you were lying in your bed with cramps so bad, you thought you were going to die. Except that it was the child inside of you, who was almost due to be born, was the one dying.

There hadn’t been any signs. He had been healthy. Yet, somehow, his heart had stopped beating.

They took your baby out with a c-section, you had only held him in your arms once. Nobody had shown up to share this incredibly painful moment with you. 

This moment that had dragged you into a darkness which would take you years to break free from.

…

“Suddenly,” you continued, speaking to Jaehyun, “I wasn’t the beloved daughter-in-law anymore. I was a disgrace. If I cannot keep a baby, why bother about me? My body cannot function properly, it refuses to act according to nature. Nobody looked at me the same way anymore, not even my husband. While my mother-in-law confronted me with disgust and anger whenever we met, it was disappointment that was mirrored in my husband’s eyes. He wanted to try again, his mother wanted him to. They didn’t give me a moment to mourn my stillborn child.”

“Did he…?” Jaehyun started, unable to speak out the words, but you shook your head.

“She insulted him many times, but he never did anything against my will. We did genuinely try though, I didn’t want to give up on my marriage, but I think my body already had. Sometimes, I caught him lying to his mother that we were trying when we had long stopped. This, I’m grateful for. But it made her hate me even more, because I’m in the wrong as I cannot conceive according to her.”

“This is horrible…”

You stood there, side by side, looking at your baby’s grave. “Sometimes I think he knew what kind of life was awaiting him and chose to not join me. I would have been a horrible mother under these circumstances.”

“He?”

“My baby was a boy.”

“No.” Jaehyun shook his head and suddenly reached for your hand. He was holding it for a long time, before he eventually said, “You would have been the best mom, no matter the circumstances.”

“So why is my baby not with me now?” you sobbed. “Why did it leave me?”

This was a question you were asking yourself over and over again, ever since it had happened. Your therapist had advised you to let go of these thoughts and the guilt, finally breaking free from that darkness by moving on. But you just couldn’t and had stopped going to the sessions from then on. She hadn’t understood the depths of your pain either - or so you had thought.

“Maybe,” Jaehyun started and removed his hand from yours to put it on your shoulder and shift you around to him instead. “Your baby didn’t leave you. Maybe your baby just sensed it wasn’t the right time and is waiting to come back to you when you’re ready again. Then, you’ll see each other again.”

You cried even harder at this point, only slowly realizing that Jaehyun had his arms wrapped around you now, embracing you tightly. Somehow, you had missed someone like this throughout all the years of pain, someone who listened, who was willing to share your suffering, who made it all more durable. Someone who was finally seeing you and acknowledging the depths of your pain. 

Had your lawyer been this person all along and it was meant for you to only find him now when you were ready for it?

“I like that thought,” you brought out under tears. “That I will see my baby again.”

“And your baby will also see your family and friends. I will make sure of that.”

“Jaehyun…” He pressed your face against his chest and rested his chin on the top of your head, tenderly brushing over your hair.

“I still want to love you. With all your pain, all your scars. I still want to love you.”

This time, you believed him.

Even more so when you came back to the grave a few days later. You didn’t want to run away anymore. If you freed your pain and didn’t lock it away in an abandoned room, it would grow easier to be a part of your life. That was why you wanted to confront your darkness and pay visits to your baby’s grave more frequently.

… Only to find out that someone had been here shortly before you, leaving a bouquet of fresh lilies.

Jaehyun really wanted to love all of you, past and present.

____

“These are the finished documents.”

Your divorce file was thick. You were sitting at Jaehyun’s desk and were only skimming over the first few pages. Every single paragraph was dissected and laid out very carefully, in every little detail so that no word could be misunderstood. 

You didn’t know why you had failed to pay attention to this before, but Jaehyun was incredibly intelligent and determined. He must have worked almost restlessly on these papers and had really meant it when he had said to hurry up with.

“What’s going to happen now?” you asked, hesitant to hear the answer.

“I will send this file to your husband and he will probably consult his own lawyer. Which is legally his right, even if he agrees on everything. Depending on how much he or his family wants to change, it will take months to… years negotiating, going back and forth.”

Years… 

You had told Jaehyun to wait until you were a divorced woman. That much respect you still had for your husband, even though you had already taken off your wedding band. And truth to be told, you were still unsure about Jaehyun. It wasn’t a decision you could make overnight at such a state, you had only loved one man in your life so far. Your next choice had to be the right choice, and how could you have already figured out if he was the right choice?

You didn’t want to get married on and off, it wasn’t supposed to be that easy, so you had to be as sure as possible. But then again, you had been fooled once by the love of a man close to your possible future lover’s age. How was it possible you weren’t going to be alluded into a marriage by false promises and hopes again? You might be a bit older and wiser than back then, but did it also apply to your heart?

“This is the toughest part,” Jaehyun continued explaining. "Negotiating. But I will always be by your side, remember that, I will accompany you on every step.”

You wondered whether negotiating with your husband or resisting your lawyer would be harder for you to do in the future.

“Then I will probably need a place to stay during the entire process. I should move to a hotel first and then go from there.”

“There is no need,” Jaehyun dismissed and got up from his chair. “I have a place for you to stay.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s go.”

You took his car and he drove to a part of the city, far outside of the bustling center, which you hadn’t stepped foot in in years, even though it was close to your current neighborhood. This was where you had grown up, this was where you had spent the majority of your life. This was the area where your parents lived.

The car came to a stop right outside of your family’s house.

“Here we are.”

You turned your head away from the window, the sight of your childhood home causing tears to well up behind your eyes. “I’m not supposed to come here, Jaehyun.”

“Says who?”

“The contract.”

“The contract is bullshit,” he blatantly called out. “Who would have even controlled whether you came here? No one. You could have come here all the time without anyone noticing, you know that. You just… didn’t want to or couldn’t bring yourself to. Am I right?”

He had called you out, and you couldn’t close your ears from the truth much longer. He was right. No one had ever controlled you. Perhaps, they hadn’t had to as by your mother-in-law, you had always been too weak to go against the rules. When you had grown out of this phase though, it was long too late to make amends.

“In the beginning, my family and friends all tried to reach out to me. But whenever we talked, I only heard ‘You’re too young to marry, don’t do it!’, ‘Come home, you don’t need to stay there’, and much more. I dismissed their words, I thought they weren’t happy for me and didn’t understand me. So I eventually cut off any form of communication which was aided by my mother-in-law taking away my phone after catching me calling my mother once. They never knew I was pregnant, I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone. I had a new family who would take care of me, I didn’t need them anymore. Until I was all alone at childbirth and knew I had made the wrong decision.”

“The more you tell me about your in-laws, the bigger my desire grows to unalive them with my bare hands.”

You nervously kneaded your fingers, your gaze fixed on the movements. “It was their form of manipulation, isolating me from everything and everyone that could change my mind and open my eyes to the truth. Eventually, my trauma had done the job. It also made me realize that I am the one to blame too. I could always reach out in other ways, but never did. With time, my guilt grew to such an extent that every form of reconnection would spiral me into much deeper guilt. So I gave up like they have given up on me. It was easier to think this way as I could never forgive myself for the things I’ve said and done.”

“But they’ve never given up on you.”

You shrugged. “You wouldn’t know.”

“Except that I do. Why else would we be here?”

Your head snapped up and you looked at Jaehyun, then outside of the window in the direction of your house where at the same moment, the entrance door opened, that much you could see over the high metal fence surrounding the garden.

“What…” You were lost for words.

“Like you will never stop loving your child, your parents will never stop loving you too, no matter how many irrational decisions you make, no matter how many cruel things you say to them. You will always have their love,” Jaehyun explained slowly so that you could process at the same time. “A few days ago, I looked for them, drove here and explained the situation. But I left out a few important parts as it is entirely your story to tell them. I think you will have a lot to talk about in the upcoming days. Look, they’re waiting for you already.”

It was at this moment that you realized that you had never experienced love in its purest form.

Until now. 

And you weren’t referring to your parents as that was another form of love, family love. You weren’t referring to your friends either as that was platonic love. You certainly weren't referring to your husband either as that had turned out to only be conventional love.

You were referring to Jaehyun going through lengths to reconnect you with your family along with many other things. You suddenly weren’t alone anymore. Life suddenly looked so bright and full of hope when you had someone to also share the happy moments with.

You weren’t alluded by false hopes and promises. He was a man of words and actions unlike anyone you had ever met before. And if this wasn’t true love, then what was? There was no guarantee, no glimpse into the future. There was only your heart following a path he shaped for you in the purest form possible, hoping that one day, you would return his feelings.

“Jaehyun, I-”

“Wait.” He cupped your face and smiled when you were facing each other. “It can wait. Go to your parents first. Take your time. Then, you can come to me and tell me everything you want to tell me, alright?”

“Thank you.” And these two words couldn’t even express the entirety of gratitude you felt towards him, among so many other things.

He gave you a kiss on your forehead, then watched you open the door, walking towards your parents.

____

Jaehyun wasn’t having a good day. 

In fact, he hadn’t had a good week altogether.

He was grumpy with his employees, sloppy with his files and overall not at the peak of his law-game. His assistant had to point out mistakes in the papers more than several times and was already overly annoyed before he said goodbye for the week, leaving Jaehyun alone in his office.

He missed you incredibly, and it was messing with his usually organized and cool head. Suddenly he caught himself by what he had been trying to avoid all along: emotions caused by love. 

Jaehyun had known what it was the moment you went to the bar together, hair flying carefreely around your heated cheeks. Back then, he had only wished to keep the smile on your face forever, it suited you so much better than the stern and calculated look. Having you wrapped in his arms, he had been awake for the majority of the night that followed, thinking about how he could protect you from a world this cruel, a world that had treated you so unfairly all your life, causing you all this pain that nobody should ever endure.

Jaehyun had never been afraid to love, but afraid to admit that he was secretly looking for a lifelong love too, just like everyone else. After all, he was proven every day by wives consulting him that true love was just a misconception and people were mere life partners that eventually parted ways to look for someone new. His job was to break love, not to create it. And now he was finding himself in exactly that state…

… head over heels in love with a woman he never wanted to let go again. A woman whose absence drove him crazy, because every minute he was parted from her felt like a lifetime. Jaehyun certainly had been in love in the past, but he had never gone through these extents for someone outside of his profession.

It made him question his choice of occupation nowadays. And ironically enough, this train of thoughts led him to your husband of whose lawyer he hadn’t heard anything at all. The divorce papers had certainly been delivered to him, but no one had reached out to him in return yet. He made it his mission to take care of this tomorrow.

From the corner of his eyes, Jaehyun saw his office door open and a person walking in, pulling him out of his thoughts. He was currently storing away some files and ready to head home as well. 

“We’re closed already, come back tomorrow and make an appointment with my secretary.”

“But I need an appointment right now, Mr. Jeong.”

Jaehyun’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest in happiness when he heard your voice and shifted around. But the woman in front of him didn’t have much in common with the woman who had intruded his office back then.

Instead of pant suits, pencil skirts and high heels, you were wearing a long flowy skirt, a matching blouse and flats. Your hair was falling loosely over your shoulders like the night in the bar, and Jaehyun was sure he had never seen you this beautiful and full of life before. And if it was possible, he loved you even more now.

He dropped the files on the desk and straightened his shoulders. “How was the time with your parents?” he asked, reluctant as to what to do next. He didn’t want to push you, even though there were a million other thoughts in his mind right now and none of them had anything to do with small talk.

“We talked a lot. We cried a lot together, too,” you summarized for him, and he noticed that even your way of speaking had changed. You sounded more confident, but instead of it stemming from your insecurities, it rooted from deep and dripped with sincerity. “It was good, taking a few days off to think about everything.”

“And to what conclusion did you come to?” Jaehyun didn’t know why this question made him so nervous.

A faint smile tugged on the corners of your lips. ”I came to the conclusion that time is too precious to be wasted, Jaehyun. I’ve lost so much time with my parents just because I was weak, and I won’t get it back, nor can I turn it back. I can only do the best with our remaining time from now on. But there is no way I will make this mistake of losing my time with someone I love again.”

Jaehyun took a deep breather, trying to keep his composure. “You wanted to wait until your divorce, until you were sure.”

“I know.” You paused. “But when I thought about what I would regret more… I just couldn’t stand the thought of seeing you moving on, maybe with another woman. And it might be not in your book now, but how do we know what the future brings? I would only regret letting you go without even trying. I was never given a choice, but this, this is my choice. You gave me a choice. And I decided for this, I want this, Jaehyun.”

He cleared his throat and reached for his tie, loosening it a bit as he thought it currently cut off his breathing. “Do you know what you’re saying?” He took a stop towards you. “Be careful.”

You snickered - a tone that sounded like music in his ears - and took a step towards him as well. 

“Mr. Jeong, I’m willing to play dirty in private as well. Where do I sign?”

____

Jaehyun wiped his desk free with one hand. Documents, pens, his notebook and even a lamp dropped to the floor, but luckily did not shatter. You let out a gasp, first because you got startled by his impulsive action, and then because he had picked you up and sat you on the desk.

You almost physically felt the electrifying tension between your faces that had built up over the past few weeks, and as your lips came crashing down on each other, it was like sparks flew into every direction to finally celebrate the release of all this pent-up desire.

Jaehyun’s lips were warm and soft, and very demanding. His hands were holding onto your face, angling you up to him as though he wanted you whole, taste, scent and all. Never in your life had you been kissed with so much passion and longing, being claimed in a way a woman could dream of.

You had been intimate only with your husband before, and where lovemaking with him was quiet, lukewarm and quite trite, the onset of the very same act with Jaehyun pushed up too high of what was ever possible in your sole imagination. 

You were wild, fiery and loud. Oh, you could have never imagined to be that loud during the act. You threw your head back as Jaehyun kissed your neck, leaving wet trails where his lips passed. Letting out a moan, you spread your legs wider and pulled him close between your thighs. You chuckled silently when you felt him having grown so much already.

Goosebumps covered your legs as you felt him reaching under your skirt and pulling up the fabric. Jaehyun’s hands were roaming over your thighs, moving back and forth across your skin, and you simultaneously grew very hot in places you had long forgotten about. He tugged on the waistband of your panties, his fingers sliding between your folds and slowly rubbing there, causing you to catch your breath because of the intensity of the sensations.

Everything was going too slow for you now, and you wanted all of him all over you, inside of you. An inner voice was screaming desperately after him.

Suddenly, you halted.

“What’s wrong?” Jaehyun asked, worried.

“I… I don’t know how this works anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“... this. Is it silly?”

You drew your brows together, expecting to be laughed at, but Jaehyun just smiled mildly and tucked a strand of your loose hair behind your ear. How could you have ever thought he’d make fun of you? He never had. 

“Nothing is silly. You were just so into it, what’s gotten into your mind?”

“I don’t know if I’m going to be… good. And I have… scars.”

You threw a meaningful gaze at him, hopeful he’d understand without many more explanations, and he did. You wouldn’t be his chosen woman if you weren’t still putting so many thoughts into one single action. 

“You still have problems to loosen up,” he concluded. “But don’t worry. If you trust me completely, it will all be fine and I will help you get your head free. So… do you trust me fully?”

It only took you a near-whispered “yes” before he swept you off the desk and carried you, with your thighs tightly wrapped around his waist, to his couch. Not even a minute later, you found yourself with your skirt all draped around your hips and your panties hanging loosely on one of your feet.

You didn’t see Jaehyun’s head anymore, only feeling his hair in a tight grip where your panties should have been, seeing stars dancing across the ceiling that you were currently facing while he ate you out like he had all the time in the world, sensually and delicately.

His tongue dragged along your folds that had long gotten wet the first time his mouth came close to your core. Gone were all your worries and doubts, there was no room to think about anything else than he way he was devouring you now, licking and sucking between your thighs until your eyes rolled back and his name fell from your lips like hurried prayers, interrupting his slurping sounds,

“Jaehyun, Jaehyun, Jaehyun…”

You angled your knees as you felt something tightening inside your lower stomach that you couldn’t pinpoint. It had first started off as a small spark, but was now coiling into something bigger that tugged on every fiber of your body. You were quite sure the fact that Jaehyun sucked on your clit and simultaneously thrusted his fingers inside of you was responsible for this indescribable feeling, more so when he grabbed you by your bare cheeks with his hands and pressed you against his mouth even stronger. 

You had had orgasms before. At least that was what you had thought. They had come like a small wave, giving you a pleasant feeling and luring a silent sigh out of you, and that had been it. This orgasm right now though was on a whole other level. 

Your whole body tensed up as though trying to protect itself from what was about to come, but no resistance in the world could withstand the persistence of the man who loved you to make you feel good. The coiled up sensation exploded inside of you the moment you thought you were going to die from endless pleasure, and then spread not only into your body, but also mind. 

There was no control over how your body reacted, you held onto Jaehyun’s head like a lifeline with your head lolled back, and screamed his name as though in need for help, your body leaking fluids in places you would have been originally embarrassed for, but Jaehyun loved it, every single reaction he was able to lure out of you.

Underneath him didn’t lie the uptight, suppressed woman anymore, in pantsuits and with no hair out of place. It was a new woman he had now unraveled, with wild hair, heated cheeks, liberated and eager to explore worlds she had never set foot into before. And he would guide her all the way into his world.

With a grin, Jaehyun wiped over his smudged mouth while you were still trying to catch your breath, but eventually returned his expression, ready for more. His fingers were trembling a bit when he first got rid of your skirt and then unbuttoned your flowy blouse. 

A flash of concern ran through your face in the blink of a moment when he undid the last button, but he understood. He helped you out of the garment, and when you eventually laid back again in front of him, bare-chested and naked from head to toe, he saw.

Jaehyun left no room for you to mistrust him though. Undressing himself from head to toe first, he then kneeled in front of you on the cushion and leaned in. With warm fingers, he reached out to your lower abdomen and then gently touched the spot of which you had been so afraid to let him see. 

But the c-section-scar was a part of you and Jaehyun loved every single bit. “You’re so beautiful,” he let out, and you believed every single syllable.

He had you tightly embraced with your legs around his waist when he slowly but deliberately pushed into you. At first, it hurt quite a bit, because you hadn’t had been this intimate in so long, but when it showed on your face with a frown, Jaehyun paused and made sure you still truly wanted this with soft kisses on your temple and mouth, so that the tightness vanished almost right away.

He was settled inside of you, thick, full, and pulsing, and even though this was so much for you to take already, you wanted him to move, needed him to move. When he didn’t instantly do so though, you nearly embarrassingly pushed up against him and tried to get a tiny bit of gratification by yourself.

Jaehyun laughed lowly and kind of threateningly. “Take deep breaths first, because you are in for a long ride.”

You winced when he pulled out and only let his tip remain, because you feared he would stop right here, but then met him with a breathless gasp when he slammed back into you full force. It cost you all the air in your lungs, but you needed him to do it again as well, because it had hit a spot you had always been convinced had never existed for you in the first place.

But it did. And Jaehyun penetrated it with every thrust that he alternated between fast and shallow and slow and deep. The couch’s cushion got wet and sticky under you, and your screams only grew louder too, but you didn’t mind and didn’t care, especially not when he suddenly flipped you over and you were sitting on him, having him sheathed deep inside your core.

“You’re so beautiful”, Jaehyun repeated. He stretched out his hand and curled a lock of your hair between his fingers that he then slid down along your breast, scar and let it eventually rest on your hip. “Ride me,” he then pleaded, “ride me, please.”

Despite the fact that you had never done that before, the motions came to you naturally with the guidance of his grip around your waist. It felt good for you to decide how deep and in which angle you wanted to have him, and as you were sliding along him, you felt another orgasm nearing that you unfortunately failed to chase.

“Out of breath?” Jaehyun asked, lids heavy after enjoying this sight too much.

“I want to cum again,” you confessed, “but somehow…”

Jaehyun returned to his former position, but this time, placed either of your legs across his left and right shoulder. You didn’t know what else he was doing, but when he filled you all up from the inside again, you were feeling him so deeply and intensely like never before. 

The second orgasm for this day found its root not in the pit of your stomach, but feeded on every inch of your body, so that it was an experience that left you shaking with all limbs, Jaehyun following along in long spurts across your stomach. 

“I’ve never imagined sex to be like this,” you admitted when you laid in his arms shortly later, a thin blanket draped over you. The office had long closed. 

“Like what?” Jaehyun asked and kissed your temple.

“So good.”

He laughed and pulled you closer to him. “That was not even my best performance yet, trust me.”

You opened your mouth in wonder. “You can do it even better? I can hardly believe it.”

“You want to try?” he challenged. “Don’t worry, we have all the time in the world to try out everything you want.”

“Okay,” you agreed. “All the time in the world, for sure. But maybe we can still start with it tonight. You never know-”

You didn’t have to call out to him twice before he disappeared under the blanket.

____

“I must say, I’m impressed. I didn’t expect this from you.”

The photos landed in front of your feet.

They showed everything.

Jaehyun and you entering your home dressed all in black, Jaehyun and you leaving the bar together, Jaehyun and you in the car in front of your parents’ house, Jaehyun and you coming out of his office at different occasions. There were even photos from yesterday after you both had…

You stood in the living room, petrified, not even your eyes were able to move to look directly at the person that was approaching you.

“You must wonder how much truth someone can spill when you just offer them more bribery money than the original party,” your mother-in-law said. “Needless to say, the security guard no longer needs his job here after providing me with the respective videos. And the rest was the dedicated work of my private detective. I sensed that something was off and hired him shortly after reading the police report on the seeming robbery.”

When you eventually lifted up your head, she stood there, looking at you with much disgust. It was at that moment that you realized you lost. She was holding the divorce papers in her hands. They had never reached your husband first, but had directly landed in her hands instead. 

“I don’t care,” you sighed deeply. “I don’t care anymore. I will sign anything, I am willing to lose everything. Just… let me go. Please, just let me go.”

You didn’t want the money, you didn’t need it. Money would come back, but time didn’t, and every bit of energy you still invested in this family felt like you were losing a bit of your lifespan. You just wanted to leave and live a life dedicated to your loved ones from now on. 

“Fine.” You halted, waiting for her to continue as you could almost not believe what she had just said. It couldn’t be so easy. “I am willing to let you out of this marriage, under one condition.”

Of course there would be. “What?”

“I’ve dedicated my entire life to keeping this family together,” she elaborated, “and my hard work paid off when I married off my first son well, making him the CEO of the conglomerate at the same time. My second one… well, he was always a little too spoiled and never under as much pressure as his older brother. But I let it pass, because as long as our reputation didn’t get stained, I wouldn’t look at it twice. I now wish I had as he only grew foolish and reckless. How else would he have gotten the idea of falling in love and getting an almost teenager pregnant out of wedlock?”

“This fact, we can agree on. But it was your fault that he grew up the way he is now,” you stated in defense. “He has never learned to deal with emotions, and whenever problems occurred, you were there to clean it all up regardless of the people getting hurt along the way. It was partially your family’s responsibility to make sure I was taken care of accordingly. The moment we married, I was your responsibility, too.”

Your mother-in-law screwed up her nose. “I did take care of these things my way.”

“And they were wrong!” you raised your voice, hoping that somehow, you could still speak some sense into her. “You pressured me to sign a contract of which its repercussions I could not have known at that time yet. It was my right to consult a lawyer, but I was never given a choice just like your son has never been given a choice. I was only nineteen and stripped of all my future!”

“A child out of wedlock would have destroyed everything I’ve worked so hard for,” she pressed through her gritted teeth, reluctant to admit this. “I did it all to protect my family!”

You shook your head. “And look at that family now. Was it all worth it? Was it worth the life you’re living right now?”

She didn’t know the answer to that apparently. “If you had only borne that child like my son wanted so desperately too, the problems would have all dissolved themselves. I would have endured you. Maybe you could have been a happy little family after all. But even for that, you were too weak.”

It stung. The insults pierced right through your heart, but you remembered Jaehyun’s words, and only grew from there. “No, we wouldn’t have been. I would have taken the child and filed for a divorce nonetheless, I know that now.”

“You ungrateful brat!” the elderly woman suddenly yelled. “Do you know how many girls out there would trade places with you? You’ve gotten everything someone could ever ask for, and for you it’s not enough!”

“Because there is more to this world than money and reputation!” you screamed back. “It’s not my fault you have failed to see it while you still had a choice, too!”

You were never able to forgive her, that much was true. But somewhere under her hard facade, you were sure, was hiding a young woman who had once dreamed big too. A young woman your age, who had dreamed of the love of her life and her own business. A young woman, who had been robbed of these dreams way too early and had never been given a choice either.

But that young woman had failed to escape as long as she still was able to, and got replaced by a monster that couldn’t figure its way out anymore, too entangled in a vicious circle that got passed on from generation to generation.

You wanted to break the circle and make your own choices. Perhaps, if you hadn’t gone through the past two years, you wouldn’t have had enough courage to feel like this now. Perhaps, if you hadn’t gone through the past two years, you would have turned out like her.

The trauma had made you weak, but also much stronger at the same time. You still didn’t understand, but in some way, you were grateful.

And the fact that you were now able to walk away was the reason you would always and forever remain superior to your mother-in-law.

“You must really love that lawyer of yours,” she eventually broke through your thoughts. “I just wonder how far you are willing to go for him to fulfill your condition?”

____

“Did you get your important papers?” Jaehyun happily greeted you when he opened the door to his office. “You’re back so early, is everything okay?”

The moment you hurried in his direction, he immediately knew that something was wrong. He put his index finger under your chin and angled up your head. The way your entire world shattered when he forced you to hold your gaze indicated that nothing would ever be okay again. 

“You have to leave, Jaehyun,” you insisted and grabbed onto his arms. “Right now.”

He didn’t ask any questions, but trusted you fully on that. “Okay, let me just get my-”

“No.” You shook your head. “The country. You have to leave the country immediately.”

Now, he was stunned. “I don’t understand.”

“My mother-in-law knows everything,” you uttered with a trembling voice. You told him about all the bribery and the detective, and eventually about her ultimatum. “She has collected a record of illegal activities reported against you, and she will go to the police with all of it to file a charge of your criminal activities. They have connections there, Jaehyun. She promised me if she wants, she will get you in jail. Is it true? Everything on the list?”

You recited a few bullet points you had been able to remember in a whim the short moment she was holding the paper in front of you. You directly saw it in his eyes, that fact that everything was as bad as it sounded. Robbery, data corruption, forgery, lying in front of the court… you named it.

“Oh god…” You needed a moment and sat down on the couch. “Jaehyun, she can really put you in jail!”

“Then I’ll leave the country!” he instantly caved. “We can live in New York or LA instead. I’ll book the next flight, we don’t need anything. We will just start anew.”

But by your expression alone, he understood that this was only wishful, silly thinking. Only one of you could be free, and you weren’t willing to trade his freedom for yours. He had always been free, you had always been caged. You didn’t rob the person you loved of their freedom like your husband had done.

“No… Don’t make that face. You’re not gonna stay married to him.”

“Jaehyun…”

He sank on his knees in front of you, taking your hands into his. “Then I will go to jail if it means you can get divorced to your advantage. How many years can I get anyway? I did many things wrong in the past and I don’t want to be this kind of person anymore. I will legally atone for my crimes. If it means that you’re going to be free and live a happy life, then I am willing to do so.”

“I won’t ever be able to live a happy life if it is without you. I don’t care about my money or my business anymore, Jaehyun. It will all come back, I still have time for this stuff. None of these matter now. What I care about is you. I won’t allow them to take you away from me. They took so much from me already. I can’t lose you too and rip you of your future and prospects like they did with me. It’s not worth it.”

“But I’m worth it?” he asked breathlessly. “How do you know? How do you know you won’t regret everything again?”

You wrapped your fingers around his neck and pulled him nearer to you. “Because you were willing to understand my pain and connect to my past. Because you left flowers on my baby’s grave and reunited me with my family. Because without you, I wouldn’t have had the courage to do all this. Nobody has ever gone through such lengths for me. If this is not true love, then I don’t want to live in a world this deluded.” You pressed your forehead against his. “And because I truly love you too, Jaehyun, I am willing to sacrifice this all.”

He reluctantly added, “There is another way out… There must be.”

There was a hint of a faint smile on your face. “There is not.”

“There is always!” he opposed, almost desperately.

Jaehyun sank onto the cushion next to you and buried his face in his palms. Was that what defeat felt like? He had expected it to hit him hard and knock him off his feet like a wave. Instead, defeat felt like drowning. Slow, torturous drowning.

“Perhaps, but not now, not for us. If only we had been given a bit more time… But I was selfish and pushed too far, and if you don’t leave the country now, you will go to jail. And if I leave with you, then all my beloved ones will pay the price, too. The damage would be more collateral. I cannot allow this to happen, so I will stay.”

“Promise me you won’t stop fighting.” He looked at you through heavy-lidded eyes. “That you will still fight for your freedom with every help you can get. Promise me you will never give up.”

You were trying so hard to keep your composure, but ultimately all your walls broke and you were crying hot tears in Jaehyun’s arms. He held you tightly for what might be the last time ever as you repeated,

“I will keep fighting.”

____

Jaehyun had made a decision. 

For that decision, he was currently collecting every tiny piece of evidence possible from his entire career as a divorce attorney. 

He had always been very structured, detailed and thorough with his records, which was why it didn’t take him long to find stuff that would be enough to lock him up for years. And he kept digging so as to not leave room for the police to find more than he would hand over. If he came clear with everything and turned himself in, punishment wouldn’t be so hard and he could see you again in a few years time. 

You didn’t want this, he knew, but in a hopeless situation, this was the scenario that was the most hopeful.

Ironically, Jaehyun thought to himself, he had never been a person full of hope before meeting you.

“Can I come in?”

A monotonous male voice interrupted him, and he absent-mindedly answered, “I’m busy and we’re already out of the office hours. Come back tomorrow.”

“I just assumed you might want to read through these papers right now, checking whether I signed everything right.”

Jaehyun had never heard your husband’s voice in real life before, but now that he had and looked up from his desk, he found it really matched his face. It was dull and boring, even though he was a conventionally good-looking, well groomed man in his early thirties - that much he was able to judge objectively considering he hated him to the core.

“I don’t know whether you’re stupid or brave coming here,” Jaehyun said coldly. “I’ll just freely assume it’s both.”

Mr. Kang let a bag, that Jaehyun only noticed now, drop on the floor, not reacting to his taunt at all. By your stories alone, he already got the impression that your husband wasn’t a man of many words… or emotions and expression at all. 

“Inside here are a few clothes, her documents, ID and passport. She wanted to get these this morning, right? And here are the signed divorce papers.” He dropped the staple on Jaehyun’s desk. “I’ve already consulted my lawyer. Whatever she’s asking for, she will get. I will agree on everything.”

Jaehyun drew the paper across the surface closer to him. He turned a few pages and realized that no alterations had been made so far. And Mr. Kang’s signature was right there as well.

“Where did you get this?”

“What my mother has gotten into her hands was a mere copy. The original documents had been handed over to me by the messenger the same day you had sent them out. I apologize that it took me so long. It was a decision easily made, but not easy to get through with my family. But my brother was very supportive and still is. My mother on the other hand, not so much when she will find out tomorrow. I’ll deal with it.”

Jaehyun closed the documents again and heaved up his head. “So… that’s all?”

“No.” Mr. Kang quietly shook his head, continuing with his initial monotonous tone, “I cannot prevent her from filing a police report against you, and knowing her, she will directly do so first thing in the morning when I confront her with the facts. That’s why you have to make haste and leave the country. Here.” He placed a very obvious plane ticket on the desk that was booked under Jaehyun’s name, dated for today still.

It was not the first time Jaehyun was hearing these words, yet he stood by his decision. “I won’t leave like a coward. I will cooperate and get the punishment I deserve.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” Mr. Kang said, a little more emotion in his voice now. “Do you think when you get released, it will all be over? It’s only going to start from then on. You will not only lose your practice license, but everyone dear to you too. You will never have a day of peace, and therefore, she won’t either. You don’t want that life for her.”

Again, Jaehyun felt hopelessness choking him. He was willing to suffer the rest of his life for all of his wrongdoings if he must. He just didn’t want to drag you down with him. “What should I do?”

“Go far, far away from here. Don’t leave any trace and wait until the divorce is finalized until you let her come to you. I guess you have partners or assistants that can take over the legal parts for you in your firm. Anyway, I will make sure we will push through with the contract that you have set up.”

Jaehyun knew this was the silver lining in a near desperate situation. “Can I still tell her goodbye?”

“If you want to ever see her again, then you must leave right now. The plane departs at midnight.”

“How do I know I can trust your words?”

“Indeed, there is no way you can. But you don't have a choice.”

“Can I at least trust you to make sure she will be alright until she can come to me?”

“Yes,” Mr. Kang confirmed, and for the first time, Jaehyun could make out a clear expression etched into his face. Relief? “After all, I have given her a promise at our wedding. I will keep her safe until it’s all over. You’re not the only one, I want to atone for all my mistakes too. I just want you to know that I have truly loved her. I just wasn’t capable of showing up when I was needed. So I’m happy for her that someone is now.”

“I think this is something you have to tell her in person yourself. And many more things, probably.”

Mr. Kang nodded. 

It was not Jaehyun’s place to judge other people’s relationships. What you had truly felt for each other at one point in your lives, it was up to you both to make out with yourselves - or not. Jaehyun just didn’t want you to hurt any longer. Everything else was irrelevant to him.

“Don’t expect a thank you, Mr. Kang.”

“I’m not. I’m not expecting anything from you, Mr. Jeong.”

Jaehyun hurriedly grabbed the most important documents from his desk and the shelves all while preparing to drop by at his home real quick to pick up his passport. “Can you tell her something from me? Or not… whatever you want to do.” He had seldomly felt so at a loss for the right words. “If you are willing to pass on my message though… She will arrive here soon and I need to be gone by then... Tell her to not come and say goodbye. I will contact her when it’s safe. I hope it won’t take long.”

“This, I will do,” he confirmed. “For her.”

____

Jaehyun had only packed a small bag with a few clothing pieces, some cash and important documents, nothing more. The papers he was taking with him included a specific file that gave him access to a secret bank account in another country into which he had booked different amounts of money any time he won a case. It wasn’t as much as his real asset, but it came close and was definitely enough to start anew somewhere else. 

“Do you carry any liquids in your bag, sir?”

Jaehyun shook his head. He had already put his bag and jacket on the tray, patting his pockets one last time to look for remaining items he still had to get rid of before passing the security.

“Jaehyun!”

Brushing it off as an intrusive thought, he continued with his motions, until he heard again, this time from a clearly familiar voice,

“JEONG JAEHYUN! HOW DARE YOU!”

When he turned around, he caught you verbally fighting with the employees who checked the board pass before passengers moved on to the security. “Let me go, I have to talk to that person!”

“You need a ticket to pass through here, ma’am,” one of them carefully explained to you, flinching any time you made a move as he surely couldn’t estimate your outburst.

“Fine! Then I’ll buy one! Hurry up!”

“To buy a ticket, you have to go the counter and-”

“I don’t have time for that. Jaehyun!”

He didn’t have enough time to process everything of the scenario that was now unfolding in his sight. You really dared to push one employee aside who then stumbled into the other one’s arms. And before they could catch onto what was currently happening to them, you had already dropped your purse, gripped the railing with two hands and just jumped over the barricade like it was nothing. 

In the background, Jaehyun perceived how the employees slowly caught onto the happenings after the initial shock and apparently called for backup with their walkie-talkies. Luckily, the TSA hadn’t caught wind of your unruly behavior yet as both sections were partially separated by walls, so Jaehyun left everything on the tray behind and ran towards you as you were doing the same. 

Quickly, he grabbed your hand and dragged you to one corner of the hall, right between these two airport sections, where it would take either party the longest time to arrive.

“Why are you here?” Jaehyun asked, nearly out of breath when you came to a standstill. “You’re supposed to pick up your bag from my office and go to your parents’ house!”

“I know but I couldn’t!” You squeezed his hand. “You were really going to leave without giving me a chance to say goodbye? How dare you!”

“I’m sorry, I just…” Only when he was at the check-in, it had dawned on him that he had made the wrong decision. Even if your husband had warned him, he should have taken that risk. That much, you owed the person you loved. “I’m just not good at saying goodbye. I didn’t know what to say… even now, I don’t know.”

“Please don’t do this! Don’t strip me of my choice! Not you too!”

Jaehuyn shook his head and cupped your face. “I would never do that! I would have called or texted you right when I arrived. Even if it was risky. I just cannot bear… yeah, this. I didn’t want to see you cry again. This time it’s my fault.”

With his thumbs, he brushed over your cheeks, wiping away your tears. From the corners of his eyes, he already saw the fetched security arriving at the section, looking in your direction. There was not much time left anymore.

“This is my choice,” you said under tears. “You are my choice. And if you don’t come back, Jaehyun, I will fly over there myself, are we in the clear?”

He chuckled and you cracked a faint smile as well. “I believe you. I don’t think we need a contract for that. It may take a bit of time… so will you wait for me?”

“I will always wait for you. That’s what I said, right? I will wait for my true love, no matter how much time it takes. Just please, if you can, don’t take too long.”

Jaehyun wrapped his arms around you and pressed you against his chest. The security was already approaching you, but they weren’t running, possibly because they had already sensed there was no danger radiating from you. Just two people in love who needed to say one last goodbye to each other.

“I’ll hurry up,” he muttered into your hair and placed a kiss on your parting. “In the meantime, go back to university, get your degree and work hard for your business, but don’t forget to live your life, too. I want to return in time for your graduation ceremony.”

“Jaehyun…” You looked up to him with big, tear-filled eyes. “Then I will work hard so that it won’t take long.”

Eventually, the security reached them. “Ma’am, we have to kindly ask you to leave.” 

Jaehyun let go of you before the two security men would drag you away from him themselves, and you unwillingly let him. “I promise I’ll be there!”

“I rely on your word!” you were still able to say before following the security out. “I love you!”

“I love you too.”

____

Police investigations started shortly after Jaehyun landed in the US. They were looking for him the next two years, and you had to stay apart for just as long.

He missed the moment you finalized your divorce after a year.

He missed the moment you re-entered university that same year.

He missed the moment you graduated with your degree a year later.

He missed every single important moment in your life.

____

‘GRAND OPENING’

was written on the fancy border that hung over the entrance door to your small shop. 

You hadn’t expected for five people to already show up at the opening hour sharp, but you were well prepared and handed them a glass of champagne each. You walked them around, presenting to them a few of your hand-picked pieces.

There were gowns with reserved, classic cuts, more elaborate gowns with a lot of tulle, short skirts, long sleeved dresses, tight and wide dresses, and a broad selection of accessories like veils and gloves in addition.

“My heart lies within this shop,” you explained to the group of women. “I want to gather as many different styles as possible to suit everyone’s preferences. After all, it’s going to be the happiest day of your life, and you shouldn’t only look beautiful, but also feel comfortable. Whatever you want to add or alternate on your overall look, me and my team will accommodate that. Please feel free to look around and call for me if you need my assistance.”

You moved behind the counter and looked excitedly at your first possible customers, being happy to share this day with the people special to you too as later on, your family and friends would pay you a visit for the official opening party. 

There was always one person missing though, and whenever you thought of it, your heart got so heavy.

The opening of your own bridal shop was another milestone in your life that Jaehyun was missing. Even though two months ago it was announced that the Aewha Group had gone bankrupt because of a tax fraud having been committed over the years, he had still deemed it unsafe to return and wanted to wait a bit more. 

You wondered why and slowly grew impatient as the police had already stopped pushing the case forward because of the lack of evidence as almost no one wanted to testify against him. Since the Aewha Group was now down as well and the owners had a fair share of other, graver problems to deal with, you had proposed to him to come pay you a visit.

“It’s too dangerous,” Jaehyun had said.

“Then I’ll come!” 

Again, he had said, “You don’t have to. Soon, I can return.”

But when was ‘soon’ anyway as he’d been saying it for a year already?

In secret, you had already bought a plane ticket to California for next month. Two years had already passed in which you couldn’t see each other, and if it continued, then you would be the one to go to jail for other reasons, you knew that, and those reasons included kidnapping the man you loved.

After an entire day of working where you had been successful to make fitting appointments with three bridal groups, it was time for the opening party. You saw your parents, grandparents, friends and other acquaintances, not only from the past, but also from the last two years, walk into your shop, gazing at the garments and celebrating with you.

There were beverages and snacks being served, everyone was dressed up and music was playing in the background. It was a gathering among the people close to you to celebrate the success you had been working so hard for the past two years.

You knew that, if you hadn’t met a certain person, you wouldn’t be standing here right now, giving a speech to your loved ones. But after all the trauma and pain, you were here, bright and successful with a future just as promising.

You just wished the person you were the most grateful for could have joined as well.

“Thank you so much for coming and celebrating with me. Please enjoy tonight,” you ended your speech.

“There is something I have to say too,” someone said in the background, and the hair on your neck suddenly stood up. “Actually, there is so much I have to say, but I will try to keep it short.”

Only after a few seconds, you were able to break through the petrification. From the corner of your peripheral, you saw your friends giggling and your parents looking at you lovingly. Before you met his gaze eventually, tears already started to burn on the rim of your eyes. 

You felt his warm hand on your naked arm, his fingers slowly sliding down to intertwine with yours. It had been so long since you had last seen each other in person, but as you now stood in front of Jaehyun, it felt like no time had passed at all.

He was just as handsome and well built as two years ago. If anything, he looked even better. Maturity suited him so well. He was smiling at you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mirror his expression with the same intensity, because different emotions washed over you all at once, so that you didn’t know how to feel at first.

You wanted to get angry at him and yell at him why it had taken him so long.

You wanted to wrap your arms around his neck and have him hold you tightly.

You wanted to kiss him deeply and get undressed to feel every inch of him.

In the end, you didn’t do anything but start crying. It was all just too much.

“Why are you here?” you asked, still believing it was all not real.

You felt him squeezing your fingers. “I just couldn’t miss another milestone of yours.”

“Why did it take you so long?”

“There were a few things I needed to sort out before I could return. Finding someone to take over my law office, for example. Just the formals.”

“Why didn’t you tell me, you idiot? I bought a ticket for next month!”

He threw his head back and laughed. “That’s what I sensed and came here as fast as possible.”

“How long are you going to stay?” you sniffed.

“This time, I hope forever.” You saw him move in your blurry vision and blinked through your tears. Or better say, you saw it blinking in front of your eyes as he was holding a ring in front of you. “If you let me be your husband, of course. So… will you? Will you accept me as your husband?”

You pouted. “Where are we going to live?”

“Here, of course.”

“And you’re not on the run anymore?”

“I will only do stuff according to ethics, morals and the law.”

“Can I plan the wedding myself?”

At this point, you were only teasing him, but after what he had put you through, he let you. “You can do whatever you want, I will say yes to everything my wife says.”

“Very well.” You paused. “Under one condition.”

“Hm?”

Then, you broke into a wide smile. Those tears on your face had always only been happy tears. “We will never set up a prenup.”

“Of course,” Jaehyun agreed. “Because we will never get divorced anyway.”

Then, you finally fell into his arms and kissed him deeply. It was like two missing pieces coming together, a surge of complete bliss streaming through your bodies the moment your lips met. This, this was it. This was what it must feel like to finally be with your true love. You never wanted to be apart again. 

The ring looked beautiful on your finger, and as you both turned around to show it to your guests, you saw in their reactions that they had been let in on the planned happenings of this night quite a while ago. 

Your opening party had magically turned into your engagement party.

[pellucid-constellations]

Fable - After

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Your wings were gone. The healing process would teach you much about yourself, but it would teach Azriel, too. Does it matter, in the end?

Word count: 7k

Warnings: Angst, injury, symptoms of depression (including difficulty eating)

a/n: This is part of a mini-series and the other parts can be found in the link below. Sorry this is literally so long lol. Debating on adding another chapter to the end because I obviously have a lot to say! Also, I won't be posting an update for about a week because I'll be traveling, so I hope this long chapter holds you over. Thank you :)

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

You woke as the sun did. Yellow light made an imprint behind your eyelids and the grogginess that immediately followed let you know that this was not the first time you had been awake. Sleeping through the night had become a luxury not afforded to you. 

You clenched the pillow at your cheek between your fingers and tried to pull at the loose threads of sleep that were escaping you. 

Someone was in your room. 

Someone was always in your room these days, but this morning, you knew it was Azriel. You could feel the whisps of his shadows making barely-there strokes along your back, and his scent was unmistakable. If it was Azriel today, they didn’t expect you to talk. When they wanted you to try and speak, they sent Cassian or Mor or even Feyre on the odd occasion. 

They didn’t expect you to talk when it was Azriel. 

You supposed everyone thought you were mad at him. Truthfully, part of you was mad at him. If he had just opened his eyes once over the last hundreds of years, he would have seen that you were right there—that you were more than a responsibility for him to look after. That you were a woman in love with him and he was a fool for taking so long to notice. 

But another part of you felt that you couldn’t blame him. Azriel had never had much luck in the romance department, and you’d always chalked that up to self-sabotage. He seemed to go after women he knew he couldn’t have and only assumed late-night trysts with those he could, so you couldn’t expect much out of him. And how was he to know that you pined after him? It wasn’t as if you’d ever made any kind of move. 

But Elain had so enamored him and you were so angry at that part. Because you had been there and he had never taken the leaps and bounds he had with her. 

He had left you in that camp, so ready to believe your lie to appease her. 

You were the biggest fool of all. 

In actuality, neither of those parts mattered. There wasn’t some internal strife that fought against your sleep and made you question your feelings. You weren’t mad at Azriel. You weren’t mad at anyone or anything. You felt empty. 

You gave up on sleep, breathing heavily through your nose and squinting your eyes into the sun that peaked through your curtains. Your back ached, and even more, the insurmountable pressure on your chest was amplified by the bandages that wrapped around from behind you. They made it difficult to breathe. 

No infection had set in. It had been two and a half weeks since the incident, and Madja cleared you to begin moving around a few days ago and noted that you were “out of the woods, medically.” Everyone looked relieved as if that news had changed anything. To them, you supposed it did. You would live. That was good. 

Azriel knew you were awake, you were sure of it. You heard his chair groan as if he were leaning forward in it, and his shadows had begun to traipse around your head, weaving in and out of your hair and blocking the light from your eyes. 

He would try to get you to eat, look at you with those pitying eyes, and apologize when you could barely sit up and hold out a plate as if you were going to eat it. You hadn’t met his gaze since you woke up and there was more than just resentment behind that. There was shame—you were so ashamed of what you had become. What you had let happen. 

Maybe that was another reason why you felt so empty. How could Azriel even look at you as anything other than broken? When you were whole—when you had your wings—there was an irrational part of you that considered you had a chance with the Shadowsinger if he would just see you. 

There was nothing to see now. 

“Are you awake?” Azriel asked, keeping his voice low in the quiet room. You nodded against the pillow, face still turned from his view. The chair groaned once again. “Are you hungry?” 

No head shake. It was a frequent question that you hated being asked. 

Azriel’s footsteps were soft against your carpet. He kneeled beside your bed and attempted to catch your fleeting gaze, but you found a spot on the floor and kept it there. 

“Can you try?” he prompted. His textured fingers brushed the hair from your eyes. “Not even at the table. I’ll have the House bring you something here.” 

You pressed your lips together and fought off the burning in your nose. 

“Please, y/n.  I know you’re angry with me—I know. But please, just try to eat something.” 

Angry at him—anger wasn’t even in your repertoire at the moment. But he sounded so desperate, as did every other member of your family, and you didn’t want the let them down more than you already had. You shut your eyes and nodded, resigned. 

You built up the strength to prop yourself up on your arms, but that’s where you stopped. Your center of gravity had been completely ripped from you. Anytime you moved without your wings, it felt like free-falling from a mountain. Madja had offered—several times since physically clearing you—to come and get you back on your feet, but the motivation wasn’t there. 

You couldn’t imagine walking without the weight at your back. 

And you had avoided every reflection known to man; seeing yourself would be too much. 

“I have you,” Azriel encouraged, holding you at your waist as he twisted your body up. “Almost. There we go, angel” —he positioned you between pillows that hadn’t been on your bed before— “How’s that? Is it alright?” 

Humiliation felt like a hot knife. You nodded and found a spot on the bed to focus on. You could feel Azriel’s lingering gaze and he hesitated before placing a bowl of broth on a small platter before you. 

“Is that okay?” 

You nodded again, biting the inside of your lip. Your back ached. 

“Do you want me to leave?” 

You nodded. 

Azriel hesitated once more, rocking back on his heels before clearing his throat and letting the door softly shut behind him. The tears came then, and you were so tired of crying. 

~~

Azriel’s POV

Outside of your room, Azriel’s forehead was pressed against the wood of your door. The intricate carvings imprinted his right palm as he kept it pressed there as well, and Azriel had to breathe through his nose to calm himself. 

He was at a loss. 

He didn’t blame you for not speaking to him, but you wouldn’t speak to anyone. You wouldn’t get out of bed unless it was Mor or Feyre lifting you for a bath and you wouldn’t leave your room at all. They had all expected this—planned for a long healing process—but you were so… lifeless. 

Gods, he was helpless. You wouldn’t even look at him. 

Azriel clenched his jaw and tried to listen for the clink of the spoon against the bowl when a hand on his back startled him. Because that was another thing—he’d been off his game since you got hurt, completely useless as a spy. 

“How is she?” Cassian. Cassian was just as worried as Azriel, but Azriel was pretty sure you were looking him in the eye at least. “Get her to talk?” 

“No,” Azriel breathed through a constricting throat. He turned to meet his brother’s face. He was sure Cassian still held some resentment towards him, but he’d apologized for his outburst when you arrived at the House. Apologized, but not entirely forgiven. 

Cassian sighed and rubbed at his jaw. “Is she at least eating?” 

“She agreed to eat. I left her with some soup. She wanted me to leave.” 

“She say that?” 

“I asked and she nodded.” 

Cassian kissed his teeth and curled his wings in tighter. “Have you… talked to her?” 

Azriel had to fight the urge to scoff, throwing his brother an incredulous look. “Obviously I talk to her, Cassian. I don’t stand in her room and motion at things.” 

In response, Cassian did not fight the urge to roll his eyes. “I mean actually talk to her, Azriel. About what happened. You finding her. Her lying and you not being there. I know it was one of the only missions at the camps she’s been at without you there. That means something, no?” 

“I don’t think she wants to talk to me at all—let alone rehash all of that.” 

“Azriel,” Cassian started, stepping forward to place a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “Give her a chance to push you away. Let her be the one to do it. If you play into this fear, it might confirm things for her, and you know her mind isn’t in a good place.” 

Azriel winced. “I think you might be better to—” 

“No, Az, you. Let her eat her breakfast, give her an hour or two, and then go back in there and talk to her. I’ve already been talking to her and she won’t say a word to me. I think you’re the only person who’s been too afraid to.” 

Azriel sighed and then leaned his head back until it knocked against your door. In another life, you might’ve called out and asked who was there. But there was only silence. 

Cassian sent Azriel a look with raised brows and patted his brother twice on the shoulder before backing into the hall. He had taken four steps towards the dining room before Azriel called, “What did you mean then, about me being blind?” 

Cassian paused but didn’t turn. Azriel watched his head tilt to the side and a deep sigh escaped him. 

“Shouldn’t have said that,” Cassian muttered. He started walking once more. “Just—think a little more.”

~~

Original POV

Breakfast was fine; you kept it down and that was the goal. 

Following breakfast, you thumbed through the books Nesta had sent to you. The action was lackadaisical and without purpose. You weren’t going to read them. 

You took breaks from staring at the wall to stare out the window instead, but that only sent waves of something heavy through your chest. The skies looked so open today, with only a few clouds and endless rays of sun. Maybe if it were raining, it wouldn’t hurt so much to look out the window. 

You were being left alone far more than usual today. 

Perhaps they had grown tired of being around a stubborn mute who refused to see the bright side of things, the “well, with your injuries it’s a miracle you’re still alive,” talks not entirely working on you. You were sure that was true, but you didn’t particularly care about the marvel it took to put you back together. 

This miracle felt hollow. 

As you were about to shut your eyes and drown the rest of the day in sleep, a small knock and the creak of your door stopped you. You snapped your gaze forward and quickly averted it when you recognized Azriel stepping in, his shadows preceding him and rushing you in circles. 

You expected him to take up his post in the chair beside your bed with a simple greeting—as he had done every visit to your room in the past weeks—so when he stood at the door and spoke, confusion and anxiety filled you. 

“Um, hello,” he began. You watched his hands fumble around each other before he cleared his throat and brought them behind his back. “I realize I haven’t given you a full opportunity to be angry with me. I’ve only offered pleasantries and… well, moved you around. I wanted to speak to you if that’s alright?” 

You fixed your gaze on the wall behind him and twisted your lips to the side in the show of a grimace. 

“You don’t have to say anything back—unless you’d like to. It would just—Can I just sit and talk?” 

You had no idea why he was asking. Everyone else in the House sat in your room and talked your ear off, asking questions they wouldn’t get an answer to and telling you about the happenings in town. Azriel was the only one who stayed silent and, now, was the only one to ask permission to speak. 

Still, you slowly nodded and shifted on the pillows. 

“Does anything hurt?” he began, stepping forward with a hesitant hand reaching towards you. “I could fix—” 

You shook your head. He sat in the chair.

There was a beat of silence—uncomfortable silence, which was odd because Azriel had always been the one you felt most comfortable being quiet around. 

When he spoke, the torture in his voice had you finally whipping around to look at his face, but his gaze was downturned. 

“This is my fault,” he said, strained and cracked as he clasped his hands tightly between his knees. “I know I’ve apologized to you since you woke up, but it’s never really been for that. You have to know how sorry I am, y/n. How much I wish I had just come with you. I always come with you.” 

The muscle in his jaw jumped. “I—I don’t understand why you’d lie about Lucien going with you. Or Cassian, for that matter. I thought it was always obvious that I’d do anything for you—that you were more important to me than a date.” 

Something twisted and pulled inside of you. You were getting the devotion you so desired from him, but it was cast behind a layer of something ugly. You were more important than a date—then why did it hurt as he spoke the words to you?

“I’m sorry that I ever made you feel otherwise. I’m sorry that you felt you had to lie for my benefit. But, y/n, I thought you were dead. I walked into that camp and I heard you scream, and I thought—I thought you were dead when I held you in my arms. There was so much blood and—” 

Azriel’s words choked and stopped in the air. He pressed his hands in prayer over his mouth and when he looked up, he caught you in your stare. You sat paralyzed, wide-eyed, as he looked at you directly. 

“Why did you lie?” he asked weakly. “I would have been there. And I’m sorry I believed you so easily, but we’ve always been honest with each other. You’ve always had me.” 

Your chin trembled. You were tired of crying, but the irony of his words hit you with full force and your wings were gone. Your wings were gone and nothing would ever be the same again. 

Your trembling jaw quickly morphed into the too-quick intake of breath that made your shoulders tremble as well. And then you were heaving in ugly sobs that hurt to let go of. You clutched at the blankets beneath you until your knuckles turned white. 

Why did you lie? 

Why did you—

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry,” Azriel hushed. He was on the bed now. You hadn’t heard the chair when he got up. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair. He held you at your shoulders and pressed your face into his chest. This was the most anyone had touched you. Madja only healed with brief skims of her hands and everyone else moved you with panicked touches.

“Angel, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” 

When you spoke—for the first time as this new person—your throat made the words unintelligible. Everything was scratchy and hoarse from misuse, but Azriel heard it. He gently pushed you back and found your eyes once more, his gaze wide and encouraging. 

You tried again, and again, each time more coherent but also filled with the tears the Shadowsinger continued to wipe from your cheeks. 

“I didn’t mean to lie,” finally ripped from your chest. “I only—only—” You hiccuped and Azriel’s face crumpled. “I just wanted you to be happy.” 

Azriel’s eyes were already glassy, but when your voice finally rang in his ears, the tears fell. He pressed your face into his chest once more. This time, you brought your hands up to clench his shirt between your fingers. And, because you were already vulnerable and because this was the first time in weeks you no longer felt numb, you whispered out, “My wings are gone,” and Azriel held you tighter. 

~~

You woke to speaking, a voice seeming to rattle in your head. You couldn’t remember falling asleep, only knowing it must have been a productive sleep because you did not feel weighed down. Your back throbbed, as it typically did after sleep, but there was no heaviness at your chest and you felt rested. 

Another voice in the room sounded off, and you kept your eyes shut as you tried to piece together the words. 

“—to walk. Important for her health—too much time—” 

The voice rumbling your head then said, “She might not be ready. We shouldn’t push her.” 

“She will never be ready, Azriel.” Rhysand, you deduced, the conversation in the room becoming more clear. “But, as Madja has said, if we don’t try to get her at least out of this room, she’ll be stuck in her head. Just try to get her to the balcony. Start with that.” 

“Rhysand—” 

“Don’t Rhysand me. It’s almost been three weeks. Her back is nearly healed. That’s not what we’re worried about now.” 

“And what are we worried about?” Azriel bit back. You were on his chest. Hands were on your waist.

The room lulled into a tense pause, the echo of Azriel’s near growl punctuating the silence. 

The door opened and closed, someone’s footfall departing. 

“You’ve scared off our healer, Azriel,” Rhysand noted with a mock scold. Azriel let out a small scoff. “We are all worried about her, Az. I know it feels… maybe like it’s you against the world, but it’s not. We need to get her up and moving. Her headspace isn’t good.” 

Azriel shifted you in his arms. “Fine.” 

“And Madja needs to come back in to change her dressings.” 

Your hair was moved behind your ear. “Fine.” 

Rhysand let out a tortured sigh. 

~~

Azriel’s POV 

Azriel was going to try today. 

He said that yesterday, but yesterday, you had let him coerce you into sitting by the window instead of in bed, and you had talked to him the entire time, so he forgot to bring it up. 

A large part of Azriel was afraid of pushing you—afraid that you would close up again and refuse to look at him. But he knew Rhys and Madja and everyone else in this House was right. You needed to start making progress. You needed to be able to live some semblance of a normal life without your wings. 

It was strange to see you without them. The pit in his chest grew each time you moved to accommodate them. You would shift in bed or reach around to reposition the fantom limb and realization would come before the dread. Sometimes that was it for the day, you wouldn’t speak anymore. Azriel would read to you when that happened. 

You had started to talk to the rest of the circle, which Azriel was mostly glad for, but the smallest bout of protectiveness had somehow dug its way into his heart. When he would walk into your room to find you chatting with Cassian or listening to Rhys, Azriel would have to pause at the territorial feeling that temporarily consumed him. He figured it was only because you were still hurt. That would fade. 

When he came in today, you were alone, and Azriel felt relieved. For a moment. 

You were already awake and looked well-rested, which was detrimental to his plan of asking you while you were half asleep. You set your book down to stare up at him, and even the fact that you were reading was not lost on him. 

You were making progress. This was part of progress.

“Good morning, y/n,” Azriel greeted, standing at the foot of your bed. 

The action already made you nervous. You eyed the chair beside you and glanced back at him. “Hi, Az.” 

Azriel’s lash fluttered at the sound of your voice, still so fresh after weeks of silence. You were meeker than you once sounded, unsure and small. 

Azriel took in a breath before asking, “How’s today?”

“Today is good,” you replied, words slow. 

Azriel spied the remaining badges peeking out from the top of your shirt. You needed this. “I think we should walk today.” 

Silence consumed the room. Your lips parted as you stared at him, and Azriel immediately wanted to eat his words. Another beat of silence. And then another. He tried desperately not to shift weight between his feet lest he look antsy or unsure. 

You blinked, twice, and then stared down at your fingers as they rested in your lap. 

“I know it will be difficult,” Azriel tried, speaking low. “But I’ll be here. We don’t have to go far. A few steps, that’s all I’m asking.” 

You pressed your thumbnail into your palm, brows furrowed. You hadn’t smiled, Azriel realized, not since before. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips before you spoke. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” Azriel asked, bending down to catch your gaze unsuccessfully. 

You blinked back up at him. “Okay, I’ll try.” And then, in a much lower tone, as Azriel walked to your side, you grumbled, “Not as if I could get any lower than I am now.” 

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” you replied, reaching for his outstretched hands. “Doesn’t mean anything.” 

Azriel decided to revisit that later. He wouldn’t pass up this opening you had provided, even though his heart ached at what you’d insinuated. He held your hands in his own and leaned forward as you shifted yourself to the side, your legs hanging off the edge of the bed. 

Already, the disorientation on your face was difficult to stomach. You swayed backward with a pinched expression and your nostrils flared in frustration, but Azriel only held your hands firm and steady. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he comforted, allowing his thumb to brush your knuckle. “Anything hurt?”

You shook your head, your lips pressed in a tight line. Azriel forced himself into your field of vision and nodded, softly counting to three as your eyes darted quickly between both of his. As your legs straightened and Azriel’s hands held you up, you refused to break the connection. Azriel wouldn’t be the one to break it. 

You were shaky on your feet and completely unbalanced, but you were standing, and that was all Azriel could ask for. He gripped your hands tighter as your breathing deepened, the struggle evident on your face. 

“Feel okay?” Azriel asked. 

“No,” you grimaced. “But keep going,” you breathed out. 

“Okay, okay. Start with your right. I won’t let go of you.” 

And you did as he asked, albeit with a small groan and a look up at the ceiling. You abandoned the frustration in favor of staring directly at your feet and white-knuckling the grip on Azriel’s hands as you swayed and brought your right foot forward. The moment you placed it down you wobbled on it and had to right yourself three times, causing one of Azriel’s hands to come around your waist. 

You gritted your teeth but continued with your left foot with some encouragement from Azriel. He stepped back with each step you took forward, his hands glued to your body to correct the mistakes from your core. You made it six steps and Azriel was elated. He let out a small, breathy laugh. 

“You’re incredible,” he deemed. 

And it was so, so small, but the scoff-like laugh you offered was accompanied by a minuscule half-smile, and Azriel was over the moon. You looked up at him, a sarcastic upturn of your eyes lighting them up, and Azriel was struck then. 

Mate. 

Mate. 

It was so obvious, so clear. There was never anything but this. But you. 

You were meant to be his and he yours. Years of this pull to you, and he always thought it to be one of friendship. He’d always loved you, always, but he’d never humored the possibility of anything more. You’d seen him in his teen years. Gods, you’d seen him in his twenties when he was terribly full of himself without the credentials to be so. 

And he’d seen you through the decades of your life as well. 

But everything was so much clearer now. He’d always been protective of you, always been the first to follow you. That was part of why this had been so devastating—he’d let you down, left you alone. For another woman. 

Azriel felt his stomach lurch and then something rotten was left in his mouth. 

His mate—he’d let this happen to his mate. 

And what had he said in the store that day? When you’d asked him what would happen if he’d found his mate?

He’d said it wouldn’t matter, that Elain was bigger than a mating bond. 

Elain.

“Azriel?” Your worried tone snapped him back to the present. To the way your legs shook and your body swayed before him. He quickly scooped you up at your waist and held you close as he walked you back to the bed. 

“That’s enough for today,” he said, tucking you back into the bed. His hands were shaking. “Does anything hurt?”

“Are you okay?” you asked, and when you looked at him with your wide eyes, he was so angry at himself. 

Nothing made sense, but everything did. 

“I’m alright,” he reassured, placing a hand on the top of your head. “We need to take that slow. Your muscles need to be rebuilt along with your balance.” 

He needed to get out of this room. He needed to—

“I promise I’ll be able to do more tomorrow. You’ll… come back tomorrow, right?” 

Something was screaming at him. His shadows. They twisted and struck his ears before coming down to rest gently at your shoulders. 

“Of course I will.” 

~~

Original POV

Azriel did not come back the following day, or the day after that. 

Mor came on the first day, a smile plastered on her concerned face. She held her hands out as Azriel did and got you to walk ten steps before exhaustion made your legs shake. She sat beside your bed and went on and on about some shop in Velaris and you laid back and listened. 

You loved Mor, but it became hard to swallow when she was the one to walk through your door that morning. 

The next day, it was Cassian. 

He grinned and boasted about being the best person on the job, rounding your bed and heaving you up by your hips until you were pressed against his front. Cassian took a different approach to you relearning how to walk, placing your feet on top of his to move as he did. He was joking at first, laughter fresh in his tone, but he got serious as your brow twisted and your body swayed. 

“You got it,” he assured. He stepped back, his hands now just hovering over your hips as you balanced against him. “You’re doing great.” 

You gripped the sleeves of his shirt. “I should know how to walk,” you said through gritted teeth. “I shouldn’t have stayed in bed so long.” 

“You were healing. Resting. No one expected you to hop up and be fine, y/n.” 

“I moped for too long. This wouldn’t be so hard if I had started earlier.” 

“Hey—” 

Frustration had accumulated, building since realizing that you really were only a fraction of yourself, and that was probably why Azriel hadn’t come back. You clenched your teeth once more and pushed from Cassian’s body, finding the ground beneath your feet and ignoring the protest from the Illyrian before you—the one with his wings so tightly pressed to his back that you almost could forget they were there. Almost. 

But the action was short-lived. Cassian grappled for your waist as your body only allowed you two steps forward before you shot backward, an ache permeating down your spine as it tried to accommodate the movement. 

“Cauldron, y/n, warn a guy,” Cassian scolded, stepping you back to sit on the bed. “Did you do this with everyone or am I just special?” 

Frustration burned behind your eyes. You stayed silent as you scrubbed your hand down your face. You couldn’t even fling yourself back against the bed as you wanted, knowing that pain would radiate down your back if you did. 

You couldn’t do anything. The extra time you’d spent with Azriel had created a false sense of… something you needed to let go of. He was pitying you—that was all. You were a broken creature, and he felt responsible. 

“What was that about, huh?” Cassian asked, kneeling before you and looking up below a raised brow. 

“I’m broken,” you admitted, resolute and small. “That’s why Azriel won’t come back, isn’t it? I can’t walk. I’m not how I was. I let this happen to me. I should know how to walk.” 

Cassian’s tongue clicked as his head tilted to the side. “No, y/n, you’re not broken. You didn’t let anything happen to you. This is all—Gods, this is all a fucking mess. But the one thing you can know is that you aren’t broken. And Azriel—he’s dealing with something right now. He’s not avoiding you because you’re broken.” 

You stared back at him, the empty feeling slowly creeping back into your chest. You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded when Cassian gave you an expectant look. You would act as if you believed him, and the following day, when Azriel stepped through your door, maybe it felt a bit easier to lie. 

“Did you handle what you needed to?” you asked him, your hands cemented against his own as he guided you around your room. The words came out strained as your balance faltered. 

Azriel took a moment before responding, “You could say that.” 

“Was it Elain?” You hadn’t meant to ask the question, and the bitterness in your tone was new to even you, but it came out all the same. You avoided Azriel’s gaze as it snapped to your face. 

“Some of it,” he admitted. His eyes burned into you. You stared at your feet as you stepped. “But only some.” 

“How’s that working out for you?” 

“Y/n.” 

You stepped again. And again. It was easier each day, but that also spelled a more difficult future. The further you walked, the sooner you would have to come to terms with your wings being gone. Staying in bed helped you avoid that truth. 

You ignored Azriel’s call and stepped again. 

“Look at me. Please.” 

You shifted your jaw to the side but glanced up through your lashes and gave in to his request. Azriel’s beseeching expression made you falter. 

“I can never apologize fully for not being there that night. With Elain—“ Azriel paused, wincing. “I’ve been blind to what’s important. You tried to tell me. Everyone tried to tell me. I was so caught up in a chance at happiness. It was never about Elain.” 

You had no reply. Your legs were shaking. 

Azriel seemed to take a different approach. “I meant what I said before—that you’re incredible. You’ve pushed yourself so hard and we’re all proud of you.” 

“Is that why you didn’t come back when you said you would?” you asked. The tinge of bitterness remained. “Because you’re proud of me?” 

“I had to—y/n, there were things—“ 

“Just say you’ve been visiting out of pity, Azriel. That would make this easier.” 

You gripped his hands harder as your wave of frustration made walking more difficult. You grunted slightly and Azriel took that as a sign to shift your weight from your feet, holding you to his body even as you struggled against him, even as you averted your gaze. 

Gods, this was better when you kept your mouth shut. 

“I do not pity you. Y/n—y/n. I don’t, do you hear me?” 

“Why?” you stressed, pushing your hands against his chest in a futile escape attempt. “Why, Azriel? Too busy running after Elain to make room for it?” 

“Don’t say that. I already told you—“

“Just let me go.” 

“No.”

“Oh, so now you listen to me.” 

“Y/n—“ 

“This was already humiliating, Azriel. And then you said you’d be back and you weren’t,” you accused. “You got weird when I finally started walking and I know you only came in here because Cassian told you about yesterday.” 

“Yesterday?” he questioned. 

You rolled your eyes. It was so much easier to be angry than hurt. “When I asked about you. I know he can’t keep a secret.” 

Azriel only shook his head. “He hadn’t told me anything. I needed a few days because I’m the weak one. Me. I needed distance because I’m reminded, every time I see you, that I could have prevented this. Im selfish.

“And Elain,” he trailed off, hazel eyes flicking between yours. “I had to tell her that I’ve been a fool. I won’t be pursuing her anymore.” 

Your brows furrowed. You gave up fighting against Azriel, but he kept both of your hands in a grip at his chest, his other arm locked at your lower back. This felt like a weight lifted from your chest, but it wasn’t that easy. None of this was easy. 

“Why?” 

Azriel paused. 

Something flashed across his face, indecipherable to even you, but he covered it just as quickly.

“It wasn’t supposed to be her. I’ve always known that.” 

More silence blanketed the room. Your earlier anger melted into a white-hot embarrassment that lingered in the pit of your stomach. You’d never been one quick to anger. Azriel hadn’t even blinked an eye. 

“Can I help you back to your bed?”

You pressed your lips together. 

“I want to read with you, if that’s alright?” 

Your head turned down. You nodded. 

~~ 

Azriel’s POV 

Azriel couldn’t tell you. 

He couldn’t. 

It was clear that no bond lit up your chest as his did, and that made sense to Azriel. You’d been through a loss few could ever imagine. You were stuck in your head for most of the day, and then angry or numb for the rest of it. The only time you seemed to find reprieve was during conversation that had nothing to do with anything of meaning. 

Azriel would take what he could get. So he read beside you and helped you walk and he didn’t tell you that a bond connected your souls. 

How could he even broach the subject, anyway? When he had so openly pined after another woman? 

This was not the time. 

You needed to focus on yourself. He would focus on you and you would focus on yourself. 

It had been about a month since you began walking again, and two since your injury. He counted each day. On the second week of the third month, Azriel saw you in the hallway. Feyre walked alongside you as you trailed your fingers on the wall, and while it gave the air of a casual stroll, he could see his High Lady’s hand hover behind you. While he took effortful breaths to calm his excitement, his shadows did not. 

“Azriel, what terrible timing!” Feyre scolded, batting away the shadows as they stormed you. “I finally got her out here and you're going to knock her over with air.”

“I apologize,” he spoke, but he wasn’t sorry in the slightest. Despite your unsteady gait, you lit up as his shadows swirled around you, displacing your hair and clothes as you went. And then you laughed; a small sound, but one that Azriel felt in his chest. 

“Call them back,” you giggled. Azriel’s face warmed along with his chest. “I’m going to collapse into this wall if you don’t.” 

“Azriel,” Feyre called, and Azriel hadn’t noticed he was staring. He blinked and shook his head as if to clear it and tried to call his shadows back. And then tried again. 

They were stuck to you. 

“I really am trying,” he explained, taking a step closer. “They seem attached.” 

“I can’t imagine why,” Feyre groaned. She shot the Shadowsinger a look and wrapped her arm around your shoulder, tugging you into her side. “Idiot bats.” 

As the pair walked past him, his shadows still whispering along your arms, you hooked your chin over your shoulder, casting him a lingering gaze. It was odd to see your face with such clarity, no wings clouding his view. Even more odd was the uncomfortable way you walked; the leaning into Feyre’s side was more necessary than for the show. 

The strangest thing, however, was the tug in his chest that left him breathless. Every time you looked at him, that thread in his chest tugged and yanked and begged him to get closer. 

But this wasn’t the time. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be the time for several decades. 

Not after he let you down in such a way. 

He would spend the rest of his life making up for that, even if you were none the wiser to the bond between you. He would protect you for the rest of your life, as he was meant to do from the beginning. That feeling, the urge, only swelled as you turned forward and continued your walk with your High Lady, Azriel still hearing the remnants of your laugh in the hall as you went. 

A shadow broke away from your figure and lopped around his ear, reminding him that he actually did have a destination before he became so enraptured by you. It whispered to him hurriedly and Azriel had to break his gaze from your retreating back as he made his way to Rhysand’s study. Each step had him increasingly irritated; he should have been with you the day you decided to leave your room. 

He bit back his vexation when he felt the tension in the room. 

“Azriel. Good,” Rhysand greeted. The door swung shut. “Sit. We need to talk.” 

“That doesn’t sound promising,” Azriel remarked, shifting his leathers as he took a wide seat on the chair across Rhysand’s desk. 

From the couch beside him, Cassian let out a humorless chuckle. “I think you’ll find this quite promising, brother.” 

“As long as it’s quick. I have other things to attend to today.” 

Cassian sent a wry grin in Rhysand’s direction. “I told you he’d see her in the hall.” He turned back to Azriel. “Packed schedule today, Az?” 

“You know better, Cassian,” Rhysand chided, the lightness in his tone betraying the scolding nature of his words. 

“Is there an actual point to this discussion?” Azriel deadpanned. 

“Bond feeling a little loose?” 

Azriel threw him a dirty look. It hadn’t taken a genius to recognize the change in Azriel the day the bond snapped, his heightened aggression paired with the scent of you still lingering on his clothes had Cassian immediately clocking the Shadowsinger. He’d looked surprised—gaurded and surprised. Rhysand looked as if he’d been the one waiting for the bond to snap, and Azriel had sent him a myriad of questions. 

Namely: Why the hell wouldn’t he tell him he thought you were his mate? 

“Don’t taunt him, Cass.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

“Are we getting to the point?” Azriel drawled. The desire to get back to you itched beneath his skin. Maybe you’d made it to the kitchen and he’d sit at the table beside you. 

Rhysand sighed. He tapped his finger against a piece of parchment laid on the desk. “I have correspondence from the northeast camp. From the spies you have placed there.” 

Azriel sat up in his chair. “Why wouldn’t they speak to me directly?” 

“I had them turn all communication over to me. You’re too close to this and I wouldn’t have you acting rashly and putting yourself in unnecessary danger.” 

“They are my spies—” 

“I didn’t do it to undermine you, Azriel,” Rhysand interrupted, raising a hand in surrender. “You can’t tell me that if you got word her attackers were found you wouldn’t immediately rush into that camp without a plan or even a weapon.” 

Azriel breathed hard from his nose and clenched the wooden chair arms between scarred fingers. 

In the silence, Rhysand continued. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, brother. But you understand why that was a risk I couldn’t take.” 

“What did the correspondence say?” Azriel gritted out, his mood depleted of the lightness you had brought. 

Rhysand eyed Cassian on the other side of the room before fixing his gaze on his Spymaster. “The escaped attackers have been identified. They aren’t contained, and no one even knows where they are, but we know who they are.” 

Fiery rage met Azriel’s soured mood.

If only he knew of the terrors that would continue to fall. 

[rosetyler42]

@toytulini I feel ya about being mad at the franchise. I enjoyed the first film but my mom also raised that issue of "You only Zing Once." It's a good series, but as an aroace fan it DOES definitely have some Aphobia problems. Particularly the classic HT2 "You can't just be friends with Winnie" scene. Even HT3 isn't totally exempt as it does have the guys try to set Drac up and rib him To ask Ericka out even though he says no. And the whole thing with Dennis and "I'm to young to zing." But on the OTHER hand, it has Drac falling in love again (with a Human, yet!) And the whole franchise focuses on FAMILY just as much as romance (HT2 and HT4 are both about family ESPECIALLY.) and romance is never put ABOVE the family bonds, found or biological. Extended and nuclear. The family sticks together even when members zing/fall in love. Also, while some have criticized this and others have praised it, HT2 deals with both the Cycle of trauma in a way (Drac trying to get Dennis to be a vampire like his father Vlad did with him but trying to avoid the Vampire conversion therapy he himself went through until he's desperate.) and Mavis kinda overcompensating by pushing Dennis to be human. Drac has some aspec coding/subtext himself, as does Dennis. Ericka's story can also be seen as a queer and abuse allegory too since she's rather repressed and finds the family and community she always wanted in the people she was raised to hate. As well as feeling like she had to live up to the expectations of being a Van Helsing (Matter of fact, HT3 flat out has her do the line "We're here, we're hairy, and it's our right to be scary." Almost a direct use of "We're here, we're Queer." slogan.) So while on ONE hand it's got amatonormativity problems....on the OTHER it also goes against it and handles some themes of abuse, fun and freedom vs risk and safety and discrimination and acceptance of differences that work well for both mixed race/multicultural families, queerness, and other ways of being different. So...it's kind of a mixed nuanced bag on the amatonormativity front. Personally they're really good movies despite the amatonormativity problems they have. Well...except 4. I liked what they were TRYING to do, but... Transformania had problems unrelated to Amatonormativity. It's basically Brave on Steroids. XD 1-3 though were really good. Especially 1 and 3. I greatly reccomend those.

Plus...well, as an aroace fan, my philosophy is if I got upset over every film that had amatonormativity in it, unfortunately I'd almost never enjoy anything. XD Plus I recently came up with the aspec Drac, Mavis, and Van Helsing headcanons, Ericka as Pan, and one of my Drericka ship children is aroace or aspec specifically because it'd be interesting to have one character who doesn't zing in this world. (The other is Bi.) All of those help.

aro culture is being consistently stressed out by the amount of amatonormativity that exists in media

.

[lalunanymph]

GRASSLAND ROMANCE

SUMMARY the strongest tribal chieftain sets the stage to claim his most priceless reward

WARNINGS prisoner of war!reader, slave!reader, tribal chief!sylus, first time, fight-to-death-trope, concubine!reader, oral sex, breeding, mentions of lactating, size kink, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of misogyny, bartering, winning her favor trope, loosely based on the new sylus myth card, mdni, 18+

DAWN SAYS it's daddy sylus's time hehehe second one down, 2 more to go !! sylus is my ult bias and I definitely wanted to go for more of a khal drogo x daenaerys vibe when I started this out, so keep an eye out for bit of dark content discussed here... that being said, will be cross-posting this to a03 soon so stay tuned! <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ZAYNE ⊱ XAVIER ⊱ RAFAYEL

The grasslands were not kind to those unfamiliar with its ways.

As a little girl, your grandmother would tell you stories of the fearless warriors traversing these bare lands in search of resources to plunder, steal and conquer. It instilled a sense of fear in you; a knowing instinct to never step out of line less you wanted to suffer the consequences of losing everything you loved.

The day you met Sylus was the day your short life came to its meaningless end.

Taken from your homelands to his tribe, you were relegated to cleaning tasks and cooking; trying to keep your head down and eyes off of you less you wanted to suffer fatal repercussions.

Your days living in sweet bliss were over; your childhood and girlhood gone in one fell swoop.

And yet, despite your best efforts to go undetected, you wound up catching the eye of the fearsome chieftain. His calls for you to his yurt could not be ignored.

You fully expected him to take advantage of your vulnerable state, using his position to conquer what remained of your dignity and hope. 

But, Sylus proved to be a different man behind his ruthless reputation.

A fan of music and wildland games, he often asked you to keep him company for the day, and when the nights got too cold, you were ushered into his private space, allowed to warm yourself with his brazier. 

The scent of moist rose and grapevine trimmings filled the air as you lounged right in Sylus’s arms, enjoying the warmth of his presence and the fire glowing brightly while snow and sleet raged outside of his yurt.

The fearless tribal chieftain was a relaxed man tonight, savoring the presence of his favorite concubine right in his lap. His large hands stroked your hair, fingers running through your locks. The robes he dressed you in were heavy yet comfortable, providing you shelter from the cold; a stark difference from the slave rags you were forced to wear during your earlier encampment. 

“What is on your mind, beloved?”

Beloved. Despite what everyone said or thought about you, Sylus saw you in a different light. A tender and cherished one.

You turned your head to gaze at him, a softness you reserved solely for him shining from your eyes.

“I was lost in my thoughts; thinking back to the time when I first got here.”

A dark look flitted across his face, and he fixed you with a prodding look.

“I know what happened was not ideal for you, beloved. But, you are safe now. I will not let anyone in this camp harm you.”

His promise was as good as gold in this world. Sylus was not someone who would mince words or give you false hope. Despite his stature as one of the most fearsome conquerors of this land, he was a man of integrity and word.

And yet… you couldn’t help the sadness eclipsing your features. 

The ceremonial choosing of his bride was coming up soon, and from the lines of women prepared for him, you paled in comparison. These women were trained from birth to please him, cook for him, and be the bearer of his children. They were thought in the grassland ways, something you were not familiar with.

The women chosen for him did not stick out like a sore thumb, nor were they foreigners of this land.

Each of them were meticulously handpicked to appeal to his tastes and desires; where you fit in, you had no clue. 

It wasn’t as if you were his tribe’s de facto pick. You were sure you weren’t on any of the elder’s lists, your fate relegated to being his concubine for life.

As if he could read your mind, Sylus tilted your face up to look him in the eyes. 

“Beloved, you are the only one for me. There is no one else in these lands I would rather spend my days with.”

You wanted to ask him why; what could possess a man like him to love a lowly woman like you?

But, you enjoyed his caresses on your cheeks and jaw; snuggled closer to him as the wind tore through the night, safe and secure right in his arms.

The next morning, you were pulled aside by one of the village elders, Enkh, as he looked you up and down. 

“My son needs a new wife after his old one died in childbirth,” scrutinizing you from head to toe, he fixed his beady gaze on you like a dishwasher studying a piece of vermin on a brass plate. “And you will do.”

The idea of being married to Enkh’s son, known as the most ruthless and cruel man in the entire tribe, filled you with unadulterated fear. You had no say in your fate, and spent the entire day wondering how to tell Sylus—the chieftain himself—of your dilemma.

But, you didn’t have to open your mouth and divulge the truth.

Sylus already knew.

He called you out to his tent, where some men who were sparring upped and left the second you arrived. In your hands, you held a pouch, given to you by Enkh’s wife before you left their yurt.

A symbol of choice for a woman about to be married, you were given explicit instructions to hand it to his son after his sparring win tomorrow. It was tradition for the winner to receive a wife as compensation, and from the thunderous look on Sylus’s face, you could tell he was not at all pleased about this latest development.

“They claimed you, just like that? Without my agreement?”

Despite not being his official concubine, everyone in the tribe knew of your position with the chieftain. You were virtually untouchable, and only higher up families like Enkh’s, could make the play for one of his concubine’s hands. 

This displeased your lover, who took it as an affront to his rule. 

But, he didn’t react the way you expected him to, with violence and malice as the forefront of his actions. 

Sylus led you to the heart of his yurt, where thick layers of felt and wool provided insulation from the chill. Dressed in traditional Bökh gear, he was preparing for the ceremonial sparring to begin when he heard word of your impending nuptials to Enkh’s son. He dragged you down to his side, letting you rest on the rugs and pillows surrounding the area before he shared what was on his mind. 

“Do you want to marry into that family, Y/N?” 

Instinctively, you shook your head. “No, Sylus.”

He nodded, pleased at your swift rebuke. “I am going to be honest with you—the only way we can circumvent both of our fates to marry different people is for me to participate in the fights myself.”

You gasped, wide-eyed at the revelation. “But, it’s unheard of. You are the chieftain!”

Rough fingers touched your face, caressing your cheek with a softness he only showed to you.

“I know, my beloved. But, think about the alternative. I do not want to lose you.” 

A grin stole across his handsome features, and he shot back: “If I lost, I’d be stuck here forever—in this limbo of never having you… but then again, could I really lose?” 

Unperturbed by his musings, you raised the stakes by straddling his lap, glaring down at him. In this position, he had to hear you out; he had to allow logic to take hold of his wilful mind. 

“Sylus, the rules of the game means that you have to steal the gem from your other opponent and then you can stake your claim. Are you sure you want to do this? You cannot back out once the games have started.”

The Grassland Festival, or the most important festivity for Sylus’s tribe that was happening in a few hours, was in tandem with the fighting ring for men to win the hands of their future wives. 

His red eyes, which shone like a grassland sunset, appraised your form astride his lap; soft and sure.

“My love, you severely underestimate my devotion to you.”

Turning your fates around, he flipped you back onto the soft pillows and rugs, a look of fond playfulness in those jewel-toned eyes.

“All I have to do is fight, yes? And I have never lost a fight.” 

His soft touch tucks a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. “You are the prize I must win, my love. I will do everything I can to make sure we stay together.”

Filled with happiness and the surety of his tone, you put your faith in what came next. 

Long and nimble fingers snuck to your waist pockets, where he retrieved the pouch given to you by Enkh’s family. 

“Hey—!”

You tried to reach back for it, but he held it from you, a smirk playing on his defined lips. 

“Is this what you are going to give the boy?” 

Warmth splashed across your cheeks as you tried to glare him down.

“Despite what you may think, you do not own every aspect of me, Sylus. I reserve the need to keep some secrets to myself.”

He hummed, clearly not believing you. “And yet, you spoke of the sincerity of our feelings. Isn’t this me being honest, little dove?” 

You sputtered, tripping over your refutes, and he rolled his eyes.

“Alright, love. Let me make it simple—”

He lifted you closer to him, letting you fall over his lap. The sudden proximity filled your senses purely with him; igniting sparks of heat across your entire body. 

“If someone were to hand the champion a pouch, should he take it?” 

He was teasing you, and it was clear he wasn’t planning to let up anytime soon. 

You huffed, trying to swipe it again. But, he was nimbler than you, yanking the pouch away from your outstretched hand. 

Sighing, you tried to pull him up, grumbling when you barely made him move an inch.

“Have you been training more?” You grumbled, eyeing his broad shoulders; the muscles stretching across his tanned skin. 

“Perhaps. Although as much as I have been honing my skills, I do still need someone to look out for me.” 

His smirk threatened to affect your entire composure, and you darted your eyes away, flushed and embarrassed at how easily he could get to you. 

The faith you had in him to win was astounding; there was a reason why he was known as one of the best warriors in the grasslands. 

“You’re the champion,” you grumbled under your breath. “Do you need me to watch your back?”

In response, Sylus’s smile softened around the edges, his red eyes taking on a tender quality. 

“Let me paint you a scene, love: I win the challenge, and then I get to be yours. How does that sound?” 

Tugging a stray lock of hair which fell loose from your braid, Sylus waited for your answer patiently. 

It was useless to try and dispute him. Whatever the strongest wanted, he would get—and he clearly wanted you. 

“Alright,” you responded softly, conceding with a smile. “If you win tomorrow, I will hand you my pouch. There is nothing you cannot do.”

Responding to your confidence, he chuckled softly, teasing you more by dragging you closer to him, enjoying your weight pressing onto his body.

“Or, we could do it together.”

He hummed, touching the hollow of your throat with his cool lips. Your eyes fluttered shut, trying to staunch your reckless sounds.

“The second I get that gem, you run up to me, crowning me as your chosen one and I respond back.”

Struggling to control your raging thoughts, you murmured: “Will it work—such boldness?” 

To answer your question, he smirked, finding your flustered expression and slight doubt adorable. 

“My, my, love. Are you doubting me?” 

The world flipped around, and suddenly you were thrown over his shoulder. You gasped, confusion mingling with surprised delight as Sylus manhandled you with practiced ease. He stepped past the plush pillows and rugs, opening the flap of his yurt to bring you out into the mellow morning. 

“Wh-what are you doing?” Your sharp inhale spurred on his laugh, his low and rich chuckle making you flush warmly. 

“Didn’t you tell me this before, love? Actions speak louder than words.” To your mortification, he was heading right to the middle of the courtyard, where spectators were already gathering to witness the fight. 

“Sylus—!”

You smacked his broad shoulders, but he wouldn’t let you down. Sylus already had a plan in mind and you were helpless to stop him. 

“Oh, love, relax,” he teased, taking long, purposeful strides towards the other villagers. “I need to show them I already have a lover. And since she won’t let me take her away…” you could plainly picture his cocky smirk. “... I’ll just have to take her myself.” 

The rest of the villagers stopped in their tracks when they noticed their chieftain walking towards them, a smaller woman in his arms. Elders dropped what they were doing to whisper under their breaths, their judgemental eyes trained on Sylus’s smug face and the look of mortification on yours.

“Sylus—”

He set you down in the front stand, tossing you a wink for good measure.

Whispers rushed around the arena like wildfire, catching aflame from the look of pure devotion in his eyes; a look reserved just for you. 

Enkh’s son, a hulking brute by the name of Altan, shot him a glare—insulted by Sylus’s blatant claim on you.

Motivated by his wrath, the tribal chief turned to the other man, raising a brow. 

“Altan, son of Enkh!” 

His voice boomed across the field, shocking you out of your mortified stupor. 

“You dare claim one of my concubines as your wife? Do you know what that entails?”

The atmosphere in the arena tilted towards a frenzy, the people inadvertently roped in to witness the showdown of the year.

Since ceremonial rites were read and sacrifices were made, the last agenda for today would be the warrior fights. Sylus took his spot in the ring, unafraid. The head monk, a calm man by the name of Bataar, whispered something to Enkh, who glared at you as if this entire ordeal was your fault.

You shrank back in your seat, attempting to hide your scorching cheeks behind your palms.

The fight began, and it was clear from the onset that it would be an unfair one. Sylus, whose expertise and years on the field, easily overpowered Altan, pinning him to the ground. A horn blared, and the winner was declared.

A stirring eagerness and relief moved you from your seat, and you didn’t care for customs or etiquette when you ran across the ring, jumping right into his open arms. Sylus lifted you off your feet with ease, spinning you around, his laughter mingling with yours. 

In his palm, he held the priceless gem he stole from Altan’s belt— a symbol of his opponent’s virility. Its capture meant that he had won the other man’s intended bride fair and square. He handed it to you, and right in front of his entire people, you proudly proclaimed your acceptance of his proposal—slipping the jewel right inside of your pouch and handing it to him. 

Triumphant, Sylus took your offered gift, tucking it in the lapels of his leather harness with a contented grin. 

The tribe elders were helpless to stop their strongest from claiming you, as was the custom of these rituals. 

Sylus had no hesitation when he slung you over his shoulder again, a conqueror who had rightfully won his beloved. 

He didn’t care if whispers of your status or his incredible defiance towards the elders would reach his ears; all Sylus could think about now was savoring this priceless reward he fought hard to obtain.

Bringing you back to his yurt, Sylus let the flap fall close behind him, a clear signal to the rest of the tribe that he intended to enjoy his winnings in peace.

Your back met the soft pillows and rugs, his broad build blocking out the rafters letting in warm morning sunlight; lost in the depths of his jewel-tone eyes.

They shone like precious rubies, far more valuable to you than any material item in this world. 

The feel of your palm stroking his cheek, your fingers playing in his hair, suddenly made his stomach twist into hard knots. They were impossible to unravel, a bowline loop which went on for eternity.

His breathing turned ragged, gaze going soft as he looked at you—really took you in.

The sight of his beloved—his bride—right here in his home, about to be taken and claimed by him, set his nerves ablaze more than any war cry ever could. 

Sylus moaned unabashedly when you tangled your fingers in his hair, bold enough away from the prying eyes of others to fall prey to the undeniable attraction you’ve felt for him since the first time you saw each other.

He lets you bring him in for a kiss, your lips sweeter than wildberry dew.

“Sylus…”

The possessive need to claim you flared in him when you called out his name.

Smoldering attraction turned into a wild, untameable blaze, threatening to consume him whole. 

Due to his rugged nature, he never had a woman this close to him, her touch a balm to his rough edges.

In your arms, Sylus was more than the fearsome tribal chieftain whose name could strike fear in any man’s heart. 

He was wont to your desires, an instrument of your love.

“Please,” you licked your lips, and his eyes followed the gesture with a blatant look of desire. “Kiss me.”

You didn’t have to ask him twice. Sylus captured your lips in a deep and passionate kiss, swallowing your moans whole.

Your tinier fingers in his hair tightened, bringing his body closer onto yours. He fought back a shiver from the force of his desires as his body covered yours completely, trapping you beneath him under his weight.

“My love, you are playing a dangerous game,” he growled, adoring how fragile and small you felt under his hulking mass.

Dragging your hands down the slope of his shoulders, you felt his muscles rippling under your touch; his broad frame and the layers of sinew forming his brawny build leaving you lightheaded.

“Oh, my love. The sight of you underneath me, looking so vulnerable and lovely,” his voice dipped lower, a hoarse edge taking over it. “... it’s driving me wild.”

Shying away from such a bold declaration, you bit your lower lip. “Sylus, will it hurt?”

Sensing you were speaking about the act of copulating, he took your hand, rubbing circles on your palm. 

“A little, but it is nothing you cannot handle. Besides, I will be with you through it all—I will not hurt you, my love.”

The idea of a ruthless tribal leader like him, promising some young slave girl that he would be gentle with her, was so far-fetched from your idea of what a conqueror was that you began to relax in his presence.

You trusted Sylus because he has proven time and time again how your comfort and safety were his priorities.

Especially when he was this close to claiming you.

Steady yet hasty hands slowly unraveled the lapels of your thick coat, his breaths tumbling out in silent huffs. Sylus’s large palms were warm—far too warm on your chilly body.

The great chieftain was a silent, nervous wreck when he glanced down at his beloved, watching her with soft eyes and reaching out to her with an even softer touch. 

“Sylus… please.” 

The cadence of his name on your tongue will never not be the sweetest thing he's heard in his life. 

You returned the gesture, removing his leather gauntlets, slowly stripping him off his warrior bravado to reveal the sweet and gentle man underneath.

“Please, what?” He whispered against your throat. Outside, the cool breeze rattled the rafters, but inside his yurt and in his arms, you were warmer than a butterfly in spring. 

You seized, back arching when he kissed a tender path from your neck to your bare chest. 

The sight of your hardened nipples and smooth curves whipped through him like a frenzy, and Sylus grew impossibly hard at the image of your sweet body, swollen with child.

His child.

The fantasies of your breasts filling up with milk, the slope of your belly gently curving with the promise of his heir… 

 His thin patience was hanging by a thread.

Sylus shrugged off his sheepskin pants, tossing it to the side of the yurt as he quickly worked on the lapels and hooks of your clothing. 

Once your smooth body was bare to him, Sylus’s gaze softened, his tone almost reverent when he said:

“You look beautiful, my beloved.”

You had not imagined your wedding night (or, in this case, morning) to be a tender affair.

Where every brutish belief you once held towards his people melted away with every tender touch of this gentle chieftain.

Sylus propped a pillow under your hips, careful to lean his full weight onto you. Your eyes fluttered shut, a moan seeping past your swollen lips when you felt his tongue glide across your breasts, taking his time to play with and suck on your nipples.

His mouth moved down your body, teasing you with whispery kisses.

Parting your thighs wide, you realized a second too late what he was doing until he slotted himself in between; mouth pressed to your pelvis.

“Sy—”

The protests fizzled out the second you felt his tongue parting through your folds, tasting the effect he had on you.

Low whimpers slipped past your mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Sylus… mhmm… s-stop—

But, he didn't relent. He glanced up at your flushed face, shaking his head. 

You can take it, beloved. Can't you? For me?

It wasn't the reluctance that set you back but the shame of such an intimate experience.

You had never experienced a man this close to your sensitive parts; the idea of him in this position itself was too much to bear. You should be worshiping him, not the other way around.

But, Sylus refused to listen to your pleas and moans—hellbent on pleasuring you.

His tongue traced patterns on your clit, drawing out more of your high-pitched whines. There was little doubt whoever passed by the yurts could hear your pleasured sighs. 

Sylus couldn't care less.

He wanted the whole tribe to know you were his;  that he had chosen you and you had chosen him.

His tongue delved deeper into your core, tasting your excitement. Some of it stained onto his face, his chin drenched with your juices.

Your hips rocked to the rhythm his tongue set, your moans reaching fever pitch.

Good girl. That's it. Show me how much you want it.

Sylus murmured, working you through your cresting pleasure.

It came like a rising high within you, soaring higher than any eagle could as you crashed to the ground, screaming his name.

Sylus tightened his grip on your thighs, doubling down on his efforts. Your mess stained his cheeks, his chin, driving his desire to a burning point.

He worked his way up your body, leaving kisses on every inch of skin his mouth could reach.

Finally reaching your lips, Sylus poured every bit of his devotion for you into this heated kiss, swallowing your moans and letting you taste him on his tongue. Strings of saliva connected your lower lip to his, hanging by a tenuous thread.

The heat of your cheeks would have burned you alive, the tension between your bodies rising to a feverish pitch.

Tenderly, he nudged your thighs to wrap around his defined waist, opening you to be taken by him.

The first stretch was accompanied by his lips on yours, coaxing you to relax and open up to him.

That is it… good girl… taking me so well…

The deeper he sank in, the more loud he was with his praise.

I adore you… you sinful, sweet girl… take me… take me good… 

Sylus!

Your cries reverberated across the sheepskin walls. It felt like drowning, your body sinking deeper into the plush woolen pillows.

Oh, oh… oh, right there…

He licked into the heat of your mouth, tracing the ridges of your teeth. 

There? Does it hurt? Do I make you ache?

Yes, you responded deliriously. Yes, yes and yes.

It was the kind of pain you could never forget, yet you desired it all the same. A masochistic plea of your body to be devoured and conquered.

Sylus raised himself up on his forearms, the bulging, rock hard muscles rippling with every exertion; his thrusts almost knocking you backwards if it weren't for his tight grip on your hips.

Every collision of his cock against a spot deep inside of you made your toes curl; leading you closer towards your desperate end.

Sylus—can't… close… 

It felt like a ball of tension growing bigger and tighter, growing uncontrollably hotter with every thrust, every heated whisper of his praise against your ear.

Sylus nipped your jaw, tracing his tongue against the curve of your lower lip.

His gentle insistence, coupled with his brutal thrusts made your body run hot and cold.

Goosebumps erupted across your skin. You were growing dizzier and hotter.

You gasp—fuck, fuck, this is too much—and he tells you just take it, darling.

Take it for me.

He nipped Your earlobe, pushing deeper against your body. 

Does it feel good? Are you close? 

Squeezing your eyes closed, you nodded.

Yes, Sylus… almost… 

Good, he traced his tongue across the heated Seam of your mouth.

Give it to me, darling. Let go for me.

One request. You gave into him.

“Yes, yes,” you shuddered, digging your heels into his lower back. 

Sylus groaned, expressions contorting into painful bliss when your walls contracted around him.

He worked you through them, letting you stab your nails into his broad back.

That's it, darling. Give it to me. Come undone for your husband. 

Husband. 

Husband. 

The word sent an unrestrained quake straight through your soul.

Yet, the reality was far sweeter.

Sylus slumped on top of you, spent after releasing ropes of warmth deep inside your quivering cunt.

Languidly, he rolled you onto his chest, skin pressed to warm skin. You were spent, soaked and still wrapped around him.

The act of consummation was over. You finally belonged to him.

And for the test of his days, Sylus would make sure to show you how much you mean to him; going above and beyond to declare his love. 

“I love you,” he slurred into the heat of your throat. “Always have. And from the very beginning.” 

You nestled closer into his side, feeling safe in the warmth of his arms, finally allowing yourself to embrace the reality of this powerful man’s infatuation with you. 

Amidst the vast and intimidating grasslands, you had ensured your survival as the feared chieftain's wife, with Sylus unwaveringly by your side.

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost on other websites and claim as your own. do not feed my content to AI.

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation wc: 17k spotify playlist series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

“What do you mean you’re just ‘giving up’?”

“Satoru, calm down.”

“Oh, calm down? You expect me to calm down when you’re just letting whoever threw all this shit on Y/N, my son just…free? You’re really not going to look harder?”

Satoru huffs in a frustrated manner, rubbing his hands through his hair, and messing up the silver locks. When he was called by his parents so early in the morning to come to their place, he thought he would’ve been greeted with good news. Any news. Not this. He not only feels immensely annoyed, but also thrown under the bus. But what else was supposed to expect from them? He’s pacing the living room, his parents standing off to the side and watching their only child try not to lose his shit. 

“Satoru, we’ve all looked into this. But whoever took that picture was smart, they knew how to stay hidden. We’ve done everything in power, son.” His mother tries to placate him, holding her hand out in an attempt to gently plant it on his forearm. 

He promptly pulls away before she makes contact, fixing his mother with an icy look, lip curled up slightly.

“How convenient,” Satoru snaps, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “The all-powerful Gojo family, with all its influence, resources, and connections, suddenly can’t find one person? Spare me.” His pacing becomes more erratic, his steps heavy as if each one is an outlet for his frustration. 

His father finally speaks, his tone sharp and commanding, “Enough, Satoru. You’re not the only one affected by this. We’ve handled the situation as best as we could without escalating it further. Do you even understand the damage control we’ve had to do?” 

“Damage control?” Satoru lets out a bitter laugh, stopping dead in his tracks to glare at his father. “You’re more worried about your reputation than your grandson’s safety, aren’t you? Or Y/N’s for that matter?” 

His father narrows his eyes, his voice lowering dangerously. “Watch your tone. You think we don’t care? Everything we’ve done has been to protect this family.” 

“Family?” Satoru scoffs, gesturing wildly. “If you cared so much about family, you wouldn’t just let this slide. You’d help me hunt them down, no matter what. But no, you’re just sweeping it under the rug like everything else, aren’t you?” 

His mother’s voice trembles slightly, though she tries to keep her composure. “Satoru, please try to understand—there’s only so much we can do without creating more chaos. We can’t act recklessly.”

“You mean I can’t act recklessly,” he mutters darkly, taking a step back from both of them. His jaw tightens as he looks between his parents, disgust and disappointment etched into his face. “You don’t get it. None of this is just about me anymore. It’s about Y/N and Koji. They didn’t ask for any of this, and now they’re the ones dealing with it.” 

His father sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What do you want us to do, Satoru? Tell me, what more can be done that hasn’t already been tried?” 

“I’ll handle it myself,” Satoru growls, the fire in his eyes blazing. “You won’t. Fine. But I will.” Without waiting for a response, he turns on his heel and storms toward the door. 

Yamato’s hand shoots out, gripping his son by the elbow and effectively holding him in place. Satoru turns his head over his shoulder, matching his father’s death glare with one of his own—only it looks…scarier. 

The silence is palpable—disturbing. Akane stands half way in the middle, unsure if she should stop this now or let Yamato deal with it—deal with their son. She worries her lip between her teeth, brows furrowed together. 

“Satoru,” Yamato’s voice is low, firm, but the underlying tension cuts through the room like a blade. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

Satoru’s lips curl into a cold smirk, one that doesn’t reach his eyes. He doesn’t pull away, but his entire posture radiates defiance. “Oh, I know exactly who I’m talking to. The man who taught me that family comes second to pride. Let me go, Dad, before this gets uglier than it already is.”

Akane takes a hesitant step forward, her hands trembling slightly as she reaches out. “Yamato, please. Let him go. This isn’t the time to—”

“Stay out of this, Akane,” Yamato interrupts sharply, his focus never wavering from Satoru.

Satoru scoffs, the sound filled with disdain. “Of course. Can’t let Mom get in the way of the big, bad Gojo men, can we?” His tone drips with mockery, but his glare burns with genuine anger.

Yamato’s grip tightens, his knuckles white. “You think this is about me? About my pride? This is about you—your recklessness, your inability to see the bigger picture. You can’t solve everything with brute force, Satoru.”

Satoru’s smirk fades, replaced by a steely resolve. “And you can’t solve anything by sitting back and doing nothing.” He yanks his arm free with a sharp motion, the force of it making Yamato take a half-step back. “You’ve made it clear where your priorities lie. Don’t worry—I won’t let this ‘family legacy’ get in the way of protecting my family.”

Yamato’s jaw tightens, his expression unreadable. “Satoru, the boy is your family but not that woma—”

“Address her by name, Yamato.” Satoru steps closer to his father, the two at towering heights. Truly a frightening sight to an outsider’s perspective. “Or you and I are going to start having some serious problems.”

Yamato’s lips press into a thin line, his stoic demeanor cracking just enough to reveal a flicker of irritation. “You think threats will get you anywhere with me, boy?” His voice is sharp, controlled, but there’s a distinct edge that betrays his frustration. “She’s the reason this mess even exists. She’s—”

“Enough.” Satoru’s tone drops to something cold, lethal. His cerulean eyes blaze with an intensity that could freeze anyone in their tracks. “You don’t get to disrespect her. Not when you’ve done nothing to fix this so-called ‘mess.’ Not when she’s been doing everything she can to protect my son—your grandson.”

Yamato stiffens, his brows furrowing. “Watch your tone.”

“I’ve been watching my tone my whole damn life,” Satoru snaps, his composure finally breaking. “But not anymore. You don’t get to sit on your throne and act like you care about this family when all you care about is the Gojo name. Koji and Y/N are my family now. Whether you like it or not.”

“You two aren’t married,” Yamato reminds his son, for what must be the thousandth time now. 

Really, Satoru’s losing his mind here. He knows that. He knows you two aren’t married. But he still feels an obligation towards you—the magnetic pull to protect you from outside scrutiny that could potentially harm you and Koji. So sure, you guys aren’t married. But that doesn’t change the matter of fact here. “And what if we were?”

Akane gasps, Yamato’s eyes visibly widening in surprise before lowering down to their normal state. His jaw ticks. “Stop, don’t make jokes like that. You’ve been promised to Himari for a while now.”

Satoru’s laugh is sharp, humorless, slicing through the tense air. “Promised? What century are you living in? I’m not some pawn for you to move around, Yamato.” His tone drips with disdain as he steps closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over his father. “You think a promise to Himari means a damn thing to me? I’ll marry who I want, when I want.”

Yamato’s composure wavers for the briefest moment before he narrows his eyes. “You don’t understand the importance of this arrangement, Satoru. It’s not just about you—it’s about securing alliances, protecting the legacy—”

“Legacy, legacy, legacy,” Satoru mocks, rolling his eyes. “Is that all you care about? Your ‘legacy’? Not your grandson, not the fact that your son is trying to do what you never could—actually be there for his family?”

Akane’s hands tremble at her sides as she steps forward, voice tentative but pleading. “Satoru, please. We only want what’s best for you—”

“No,” Satoru interrupts sharply, turning his icy gaze to his mother. “You want what’s best for you. Don’t twist it.” He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair as if trying to physically shake off their words. “Koji doesn’t need your ‘legacy.’ He doesn’t need your politics or your alliances. He needs a father who puts him first.”

“And Y/N?” Yamato retorts, his tone scathing. “Do you think she’s above this? She could be using you, Satoru. She’s a liability, dragging you—us into scandal after scandal. And now, with the boy—”

“Enough!” Satoru’s voice booms, cutting through the room like a clap of thunder. He steps even closer to his father, their faces mere inches apart. “You don’t get to talk about her like that. She’s the mother of my child. She’s family. And I’ll defend her with everything I’ve got.” His voice drops, low and cold. “So go ahead. Keep pushing me. See what happens when I stop giving a damn about your ‘legacy.’”

Akane’s quiet, labored breathing breaks the tension, her hand fluttering to her mouth as she looks between the two men. The silence that follows feels deafening, and for a moment, Yamato looks like he might lash out—but then he takes a breath, regaining his composure.

“Fine, you’ve made your point clear,” Yamato finally says, his voice low and measured. “But don’t expect me to clean up the fallout when this all collapses around you.”

Satoru huffs a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I won’t. I’ve learned not to expect much from you anyway. A man who cares more about sealing business deals than the own well-being of his family.”

Yamato glares, his jaw tightening once more, but he doesn’t respond. The tension in the room is suffocating, a silent battle of wills playing out between father and son.

Satoru doesn’t wait for his father to break. Instead, he turns sharply, heading for the door. Before he leaves, he glances over his shoulder, his eyes steely. “You can take your promises, your alliances, and your legacy—and shove them. I’ll protect my family, with or without you.”

And with that, he slams the door behind him, leaving Akane and Yamato in stunned silence. The house rattles with Satoru’s exit. Akane slowly turns her head towards her husband, who is still staring at the spot their son once stood in. Her jaw clenches, French-tipped nails digging into her aged palms. “You…you’re breaking this family apart, Yamato.”

“It was already apart.”

That’s it. Nostrils flaring as she hastily stomps up to her husband and delivers a slap to his right cheek. His head shoots toward his left, unflinching. He doesn’t face his wife, even after he hears the sniffling come from her. 

The room hangs heavy with silence after the sharp crack of Akane’s hand meeting Yamato’s cheek. She stands there, trembling, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath. Tears well in her eyes, blurring the sight of her husband—unmoved, unshaken, and cold as stone. 

“You’re so blind,” Akane whispers, her voice quivering. “Blind to what really matters. Satoru…he’s slipping away from us, and you can’t see it because you’re too damn proud to admit you’ve failed him.”

Yamato remains still, his head turned, staring at nothing. “I’ve done what I had to do,” he replies, his voice devoid of emotion. “For this family. For its survival.”

“No,” Akane counters, her voice growing louder, cutting through the tense air like a blade. “You did it for yourself. You’ve always done it for yourself. The name, the power, the control—it’s all you care about. You don’t care about Satoru. You don’t care about Koji. And now…” Her voice cracks, and tears spill over her cheeks. “Now, you don’t even care about me.”

Finally, Yamato turns to face her. His expression is unreadable, a mask of stoicism, but there’s a flicker—just a flicker—of something in his eyes. Regret? Doubt? It’s gone before she can be sure.

“I care about this family,” he says, the words sounding rehearsed, hollow. “I’ve always cared.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Akane snaps, taking a step closer, her fists clenching at her sides. “If you cared, you’d see what you’re doing. You’d see that you’re driving Satoru away, driving us all away. You’d see that the ‘legacy’ you’re so desperate to protect isn’t worth a damn if there’s no one left to carry it. Aren’t you tired of this all?”

Yamato opens his mouth to respond, but the words die on his tongue. For a moment, he simply stands there, his towering frame somehow diminished by the weight of her words.

“You’ve lost him,” Akane whispers, her voice breaking. “And if you keep this up…you’ll lose me too.”

She turns and walks away, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she retreats, leaving Yamato alone in the echoing silence of the living room. He doesn’t call after her. Instead, he stands there, the faint sting of her slap lingering on his cheek, and for the first time in a long time, Yamato feels the weight of his choices pressing down on him.

Satoru’s driving faster than he should back home, inhaling deeply then letting it go. He stops at a red light, too close to the white line of pedestrians. His phone sits in the cup holder before being picked up once more, eyes narrowing at the article he was looking at before he stormed on the pedal home. 

“Satoru Gojo and girlfriend Himari Nakamura spotted with Y/N L/N! Trouble in Paradise? Is this an end to Hitoru?!”

He bitterly scoffs once more when he sees the idiotic title to the even more idiotic article. Once again, an intrusive element to his already asphyxiating life. He knew meeting up with you to drop off Koji’s jacket might have been pushing it already, but for some reason…he found himself wanting to see your face and hear your voice. Even if it was just for a few short minutes. He hadn’t expected Himari to find him so soon, which was why he knew he needed to cut it short and keep his cool before anything unsavory happened. 

Because of shit like this. 

Satoru’s grip tightens on the wheel as he glares at the screen, the words blurring as his anger mounts. His chest feels tight, like the very air around him is too thick to breathe. The headline taunts him—Hitoru—the mockery of it all, the never-ending reminders of the mess he’s in. Himari’s name keeps appearing in connection with his, like some knot he can’t untangle.

Hitoru—the name they gave him and Himari when they were pushed together by their families, the perfect picture of a relationship built on top of strict obligation, not love. His fingers tighten around his phone, the familiar buzzing of frustration building in his throat.

He snaps the phone shut with a sharp motion, tossing it back into the cupholder. But the damage is done. The images of you, of Himari, of the scrutiny that surrounds them, keep circling his mind. It’s suffocating. He doesn’t even want to think about it anymore—about how you’ve been dragged into this mess.

The light changes, and he slams his foot down on the accelerator, the engine roaring as he speeds toward home. But even as he drives, his mind races—faster than the car, faster than his thoughts can keep up. He can’t shake the image of his parents, the look in their eyes, the silence that followed his exit. And now this—this new intrusion. It’s like he’s always on the edge of losing something, something he can’t even define anymore.

He turns off the road onto a quieter street, his heart hammering in his chest as he parks in front of the familiar house. The world feels too loud, the air too thick, and all he wants is for it to stop—for it all to just stop.

He grabs his phone again, his thumb hovering over your name in his contacts. He pauses, staring at it, then pulls his hand away, staring at the water in front of him instead.

“Damn it,” he mutters to himself. There’s so much to fix, so many wrongs to right, but he doesn’t know where to start anymore. Throwing the phone onto the passenger seat, he knocks his forehead into the leather wheel. 

He wonders if you saw it already. Maybe you did, but maybe you didn’t. There’s a part of him that wants to text you to ask, and maybe even apologize. However, he’s not sure if that would be a good choice right now. He recognizes every little bit of you so easily, it’s startling. Maybe concerning?

The small downturn to your lips as you held back a frown and formed a smile, the pitch of your voice lowering in disappointment. The look in your eyes that glazed over with nothing but…betrayal? He cursed himself, eyes squeezing shut. 

You probably hate him even more now for not standing up for you as you would’ve liked—as he would’ve liked.  He’s starting to feel like his older self again, and he absolutely despises that. Fucking up and knowing it, but not fixing it up afterwards. He should’ve followed you back into your workplace and apologized for what Himari said to you, but he didn’t. He froze like a fucking idiot and in the end—chose another woman. 

Satoru’s forehead remains pressed against the steering wheel, the heat of it grounding him in the overwhelming rush of guilt and frustration. His thoughts swirl in chaos, a vortex of what-ifs and should-haves. Every moment he’d spent ignoring your pain, every opportunity to protect you he let slip by—it feels like he’s suffocating on the weight of it all. The truth is, he knows you too well. Better than anyone else ever could. And that makes it worse.

He can picture it so clearly: the way your lips had almost quivered before you plastered that smile, the way your eyes shifted, too tired to pretend anymore. He’s seen that look before, way more times than he’d like to admit. And it terrifies him now. Betrayal. Is that what he’d done? It was almost like he had carved a bigger wedge between you without realizing it, all because he couldn’t act fast enough, couldn’t be the man you needed. 

Did you still need him?

He slams his hand against the wheel in frustration, the sharp sound echoing in the otherwise quiet car. 

His phone buzzes on the seat beside him with a random notification, and instinctively, he grabs it, his thumb hovering over your name again. But no—he can’t. Not like this. Not when he’s this tangled up in his own mess.

What could he possibly say? 

He drags his hand over his face, muttering to himself. "God, what are you doing to yourself?"

Every time he tries to piece it together, another fragment of reality shatters in his mind. You’ve always been strong. You never asked for him to do more than what he could handle. But you’d been forced to handle so much already, and he... he’d let it all slip away.

Maybe you actually do hate me now.

He leans back against the seat, closing his eyes again, hoping for a moment of clarity. But the only thing he can hear now is the ringing silence in his head.

“Do you still love me?”

“…of course I do. I’d never stop.”

“Then why…why don’t I feel like you do anymore?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.”

“No, really. I’m—”

“Let’s go to sleep now.”

He actually feels like he’s going crazy. Snapping his eyes open. He’d never thought he’d be the person to hear voices from the past in his head, but now he’s starting to understand. His heart is beating faster than it should, mouth drying like the Sahara desert and his fingers are starting to feel fidgety. With a shaky, labored breath inward, he reaches for his glove compartment. Opening it and bringing out the picture frame you gifted him. 

It’s only been a few days, but Satoru has discovered that not just staring at his son, but at you, has calmed him down in his hardest of moments. 

Satoru’s fingers tremble as he holds the picture frame, his eyes drawn to the image of you. It’s a moment frozen in time, a snapshot of a time when everything was different. Your smile, your eyes full of a younger warmth and something more—something he wishes he could’ve seen in person. That smile, the one that always made his heart flutter despite the chaos surrounding them. 

It was just a small moment, a simple gesture—no grand speeches or dramatic declarations—but to him, it meant the world. And now, in the silence of his car, surrounded by the weight of everything he’d failed to protect, it’s the only thing that feels real.

He runs his thumb along the edge of the glass, his mind replaying the words from before—your words. His chest tightens.

“Why don’t I feel like you do anymore?”

It’s a question he still can’t answer. How could he? He was so far from being the man you needed him to be. He thought the love you shared was enough, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he’d let it wither, neglected it in favor of his own responsibilities, his own distractions, until it had slipped through his fingers like sand. But in a way, he saw the neglect. And again, he froze. And again, he chose to turn away from you, letting you walk away. 

“Satoru... I know you are.”

He flinches at the memory of your voice, still so clear, still so piercing in its sadness. He'd heard the pain in your words that night. The resignation. He should’ve comforted you more—should’ve tried harder to. It was your own understanding that whatever you two had left, he wasn’t offering it in a way that could keep you whole.

The picture frame shakes slightly in his grasp. The noise of it is almost deafening, drowning out the chaotic swirl of his thoughts. He closes his eyes, feeling the weight of guilt settle deep within his chest, heavier than anything he’s ever felt before.

I never wanted to hurt you. I’m so sorry.

His breath hitches. Maybe he wasn’t entirely lost. Maybe he could still fix this. 

With a shaky exhale, he sets the frame back on the seat, staring at it for just a second longer before slowly closing his eyes, and leaning back against the headrest, allowing the overwhelming weight of it all to settle over him. His heart rate evens out, his hands no longer jittering. His sweat has dried down and his shoulders feel lighter. 

Maybe he should apologize. For anything at this point, so long you know he’s regretful. 

He gets a ping at his phone again, one that has him reaching for it and unlocking it with quick ease. He’s set up a different notification sound for whenever you text him or call him—it separates you from the rest of the contacts. Also, it lets him know that your message or phone call is actually worth replying to. 

Y/N:

Can you watch Koji tonight, please? I’m going out with a friend. 

He hesitates, a wave of curiosity passing through him. What friend? Going where? He wants to ask, and he almost does. But logic wins over and he finds himself having better restraint than he would’ve expected. So, with a big inhale, he types back a simple ‘sure’. 

He blames it on the fact that he hasn’t seen you dressed up in a while. That’s why his mind has suddenly gone foggy, lips parted and eyebrows raised as if he’s on the very verge of saying something. “You look…” Edible. 

Clearing your throat, you stuff your hands into the pockets of the small black jacket you adorn to keep you semi-warm throughout the night. But it probably won’t do much considering your legs are on full display for everyone to see. Your white-painted toes peeking out from the black heels you wear. And not to mention, the red dress you’re wearing that’s almost too tight and short for his liking. You’re wearing a glossy red lip to match, hair down, and jewelry that stands out perfectly against your skin. If he inhales hard enough, he’ll smell the sweet scent of your floral, strawberry fragrance that always leaves him wanting—feining for more. 

“…nice.”

Nice? That’s all he could come up with? He mentally berates himself, though he’s not entirely sure if he wants to give you the satisfaction of knowing just how good you look. It’s not just the dress or the heels—it’s your unknowing confidence in your stance, the way you carry yourself. It’s infuriatingly captivating. 

“Thanks,” you reply, not meeting his gaze as you adjust the strap of your small purse. You’re not oblivious to the way his eyes linger, but you refuse to let it affect you. Not tonight, not anymore. “Koji’s already asleep, so you shouldn’t have any trouble.”

Satoru nods, leaning against the doorframe, his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. “Who’s the lucky guy?” he finally asks, his tone deliberately casual.

You pause mid-motion, glancing back at him with a raised brow. “Why does it matter?”

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Just curious. I mean, you haven't gone out much, so…”

“It’s a friend,” you say firmly, cutting him off before he can push further. “That’s all you need to know.”

His lips thin, looking briefly at his son’s closed door before back at your figure; watching you grab your keys. “Well…how are you getting there?” He asks, a hint of concern in his voice. 

“My friend and the guy she’s talking to are picking me up. We were going to meet him there, but he said he could pick us up instead.”

“What guy?” He can’t help but ask. “Is he a good driver? Do you know him well? Do I—”

“They’re picking me up,” you reiterate, cutting him off. Looking back at him, a plain emotion on your face. “I have it situated. Just worry about watching Koji, okay?”

The words sting more than he expects them to. He watches as you step out the door, your heels clicking against the pavement. “Please be safe,” he calls after you, his voice softer this time, almost hesitant.

You turn briefly, offering a small, polite smile. “I will.”

And just like that, you’re gone, leaving Satoru standing in the apartment, staring after you with a sinking feeling in his chest. The thought of you out there, dressed like that, with someone else—some other guy—makes his blood simmer. He knows he has no right to feel this way, but it doesn’t stop the jealousy from gnawing at him.

A few minutes and he decides to be nosy. Peeking out the window, looking down at the parking lot of the complex. He sees you getting into a car. Now, it’s not the fact that the entire car is blacked out so he can’t even see who’s in the car with you, or the fact that it has obnoxious lights on the rims. But solely the fact that it’s a Maybach. 

Since when do you know anyone who drives a Maybach?

Not that he’s trying to diss you or anything, but so far, he has no knowledge of you coming across any people who could afford that kind of car. Up until now. And that thought alone has him on edge. 

Or maybe it’s the signature, golden ‘Z’ emblem above the back license plate that he spots as the car drives off. His stomach turns. No. No. No. That couldn’t be. He’s just imagining that. 

No way you’re in a car with a Zenin right now. 

There’s just no way. 

“You look cute,” Hana comments, turning around in her seat. Smiling as she gives you a once-over. “Is that the dress we bought together that one time at the mall?”

“Yeah. You look great too,” you chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You glance over at Naoya who’s currently fixated on the road. “Thanks for the ride, by the way. I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Naoya replies without taking his eyes off the road, his tone neutral but polite. “Hana insisted we pick you up anyway.”  

Hana grins, turning her attention back to you. “Of course I did! It’s been forever since we had a proper night out. You’ve been cooped up for too long, Y/N.” She gestures dramatically, earning a small laugh from you.  

“I guess I have,” you admit, glancing out the window as the city lights blur past. “It’s just been… a lot lately.”  

Hana’s smile softens, and she reaches back to give your hand a comforting squeeze. “Well, tonight’s about letting go of all that. We’ll have fun, I promise.”  

Naoya glances at you in the rearview mirror, his sharp gaze lingering for a moment before he focuses back on the road. “Just make sure you don’t let loose too much,” he says, his lips curving into a faint smirk.  

You look over, seeing the corner of his lips upturned into what must be his permanent grin. You catch his eyes meeting you through the rearview mirror for a minute and it makes you feel naked. Clearing your throat and looking back at your window with an awkward chuckle. 

“Naoya, the overprotective chauffeur,” Hana jokes, earning a laugh from Naoya as he puts his hand on her thigh.  

“Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you two,” Naoya quips, his smirk widening as his fingers give Hana’s leg a light squeeze. “Especially when you’re dragging her along into whatever chaos you’ve planned.”

Hana rolls her eyes, brushing his hand off playfully. “Relax, Dad. We’re just going out for a few drinks and some dancing. Nothing too wild.” She winks at you. “Right, Y/N?”

You nod. “Right. I’m not exactly a party animal.”

Naoya hums, clearly unconvinced. “We’ll see about that.”

Hana waves him off.  He chortles a low, smooth sound that vibrates through the car. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just here to make sure my ladies get home in one piece.”

Your lips part in confusion, brows knitting together. You glance at him, but he doesn’t elaborate. Hana, ever the chatterbox, quickly fills the silence. “Well, lucky us, then! Who else gets a chauffeur who also cares about their well-being?” She leans over and plants a dramatic kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, honey.”

Naoya laughs, but he subtly turns his head to the side and grimaces, wiping his cheek as if offended. You notice. 

The dynamic between them is easy and light, and though you try to relax, you can’t shake the feeling of Naoya’s lingering gaze every time he catches your eye in the mirror. There’s something unnerving about the way he looks at you—like he knows something you don’t. 

For now, though, you push it aside. Tonight isn’t about overthinking—it’s about having a moment to breathe.

But you shake it off, plastering a smile on your face as the car pulls up to the club. Hana claps her hands excitedly, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Alright, let’s get this night started!”

Naoya puts it in park and rounds over to the other side of the car, opening Hana’s far and surprisingly yours as well. Giving him a small nod in thanks, you go to loop arms with Hana, but she’s already doing that with Naoya. 

You falter for a moment, your arm awkwardly dropping back to your side. Hana is too busy chatting animatedly with Naoya to notice, her laugh ringing out as they start walking ahead. You follow a step behind, trying not to feel out of place.

The entrance to the club glows with neon lights, and the steady thrum of bass greets you as you approach. Hana bounces on her heels, her excitement contagious as she tugs on Naoya’s arm. “Hurry up! We don’t want to miss the good music!”

Naoya glances back at you, his sharp eyes flickering with something unreadable. “You good back there?”

“Yeah,” you reply quickly, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”

Hana beams at you over her shoulder, oblivious to the moment. “Don’t let us leave you behind, Y/N! Tonight’s about you having fun too!”

“Right,” you murmur, falling into step beside them as the bouncer waves you three in instantly as soon as he sees Naoya’s with you. 

Inside, the club is alive with energy—flashing lights, pulsing music, and a crowd already losing themselves on the dance floor. 

In other words, it’s a sensory overload. The air is thick with the smell of perfume, sweat, and alcohol, and the floor vibrates underfoot with the heavy bass of the music that pulses from every corner. The dim, moody lighting casts long shadows across the room, but flashes of neon blues, purples, and pinks blink and fade in time with the beats, giving the space an electric, otherworldly glow.

To your left, a long, sleek bar stretches the length of the room, illuminated by LED lights embedded beneath the counter, giving it a cool, almost ethereal glow. Behind the bar, bartenders move with practiced efficiency, mixing colorful drinks, occasionally tossing bottles into the air as part of a flashy show to catch the attention of the crowd. The shelves of liquor gleam under the shifting lights, every bottle begging to be chosen.

The dance floor is alive with movement—a sea of people in various states of abandon, swaying, grinding, and throwing themselves into the beat. The DJ booth is elevated at the far end of the room, with an impressive setup of turntables, flashing screens, and a bright spotlight that shines down on the DJ as they command the crowd. Their hands are a blur as they adjust the controls, sending waves of sound crashing through the speakers, making the room feel alive with every drop.

Above, the ceiling is dark but dotted with small, moving lights that give the illusion of stars or distant galaxies, adding to the club’s otherworldly atmosphere. A few scattered tables sit around the edges of the room, reserved for VIP guests, and each one is surrounded by plush, velvet chairs and bottles of expensive liquor.

As you move through the crowd, you catch glimpses of people laughing, chatting, and flirting, but it all feels distant—like you’re part of the scene but not entirely involved. The club is packed, but there’s a strange sense of intimacy in the chaos as if everyone is trying to escape their real lives, if only for a few hours. The energy is intoxicating, but beneath it all, you can feel the weight of your own thoughts creeping back in, no matter how hard you try to let the music wash them away.

Naoya guides you two upstairs, which shocks you because you weren’t aware this spot has more than one floor. “C’mon, upstairs is where all the important people stay.” He says, his head tilting in the direction of where he’s referring. 

Hana giggles and practically bubbles with excitement. You on the other hand, not so much. Maybe it’s just the fact that you’re a very analytical person at heart, constantly checking and being sure of your surroundings. Of course, a few men pass you and Hana lingering stares, but none of them approach you. 

Naoya walks over to a small VIP booth that’s been blocked off, sitting leisurely down on the couch and bringing Hana down to his lap; her arms around his neck. You sit beside them, hands in your lap. Looking around, and yep, it definitely is a different vibe than downstairs. 

As you settle into the plush, velvet booth, the vibe upstairs feels even more exclusive. The lighting here is more subdued, with golden accents and low-hanging chandeliers casting a warm, luxurious glow over the space. The music from downstairs is muffled, replaced by a mix of smooth beats and more chill, electronic sounds, making the atmosphere feel like a blend of relaxation and quiet intensity. The view from the booth offers a perfect vantage point, allowing you to overlook the main floor, but with a sense of separation from the chaos. The air smells richer up here too—expensive cologne and the faint scent of cigars from the few people who seem to want a more private retreat from the crowd below. Glasses of wine and crystal-clear cocktails sit on the tables, adding to the upscale feel.

“All rounds on me. Let’s enjoy the night,” Naoya announces. 

“Thank you, babe!” Hana exclaims, nuzzling into his neck.  

Your eyes flicker to the other patrons in the booth with you. Some are laughing softly, holding drinks, while others sit in hushed conversations, the dim lighting making everything feel secretive and intimate. You can’t help but wonder if this is how the elite live all the time—an almost curated existence, designed for maximum enjoyment and minimal disruption.

A waitress arrives with a tray of drinks—various cocktails with elaborate garnishes, the scent of alcohol mingling with the floral air in the room. Naoya takes one without hesitation, handing it to Hana, who beams in delight. He looks over as if waiting for you to take one as well. You glance down at the assortment of drinks before finally picking up a glass, the amber liquid gleaming in the dim light. You take a small sip, the sharpness of the alcohol hitting your tongue as you try to keep your focus on the present moment, not letting your mind wander too far.

Naoya watches you with a raised brow, then leans back in his seat, his arm casually draped around Hana’s waist. He seems to enjoy the fact that you’re more reserved than the others. He chuckles lowly. “I wasn’t sure you’d be the type to go for the fancy drinks,” he remarks, his voice light but piercing as he studies your expression.

You give him a dry smile, shifting your attention toward the music pulsing through the speakers. “I’m not, but I figured it’s a good way to blend in,” you reply, trying to keep the conversation flowing without delving into anything personal.

Hana, always the life of the group, doesn’t seem to notice the tension hanging in the air. She’s already lost in the rhythm of the night, swaying her body slightly as she sips her drink. You, on the other hand, are a stranger in it all, unsure of your place here.

You’re don’t know how much time has passed, but it’s probably sooner than later when you’re nudging Hana over as Naoya is engaged in conversation with another man. “Hey, I thought we were going for the more…you know. Lively kind of night. Not a sit down and whiskey type.” You lace your words with a chuckle, though you speak the truth. You’d much rather be on the first floor, drinking expensive, but poorly made drinks and shaking your ass off on the dance floor with a bunch of strangers. 

“What’s wrong with being up here? Naoya said all the important people stay here.” She tilts her head, sipping from what must be her fifth drink already. She’s drunk, obviously. 

You’re teetering the line of tipsy and drunk. 

“Well, yeah, sure. But don’t you want to dance or something?” You ask back. 

Hana looks at you for a moment, her eyes softening with a thoughtful expression. She tilts her head, the buzz of the alcohol making her seem a little more carefree. “I mean, I guess, but I like the vibe up here more. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Her words are a little slow.

You glance down at your feet for a moment, debating your options. The temptation to be more carefree is there, gnawing at the edges of your mind. But as the music and voices continue to swirl around you, you feel more and more out of place in this sterile, high-class VIP area. You can practically feel the weight of the high-heeled shoes digging into your feet, the tightness of your dress that’s become slightly uncomfortable as the night wears on.

You shoot a glance toward Naoya, who's deep in conversation with some well-dressed man. His posture is perfect, the kind of poised confidence only someone like him could exude, while you and Hana are caught up in your own corner of the booth, the alcohol clouding your judgment but not your awareness. It’s strange to be so close to people who are so at home here but yet feel so far away.

“I think I’m gonna go dance,” you say, suddenly making up your mind. “You don’t have to join me if you’re not feeling it.” You stand, brushing your dress down as you do. Your legs feel a little unsteady, but it’s manageable. You’re not a newbie to drinking, after all. 

Hana looks at you, her gaze blurry but her smile still wide. “Go for it, girl! I’m fine here.” She gives you a thumbs up, though she seems too drunk to be fully aware of what’s going on around her.

You nod, and make your way down the stairs back toward the first floor. The music is louder here, the bass thumping through your chest as you walk toward the crowd of people already dancing. Normally, Hana would never shy away from dancing with you—or straying away from you during a night out. So the fact that she’s suddenly willing to tonight makes you feel weird. But it’s probably just the alcohol. 

You shake off the momentary discomfort, the need to blend into this world of expensive drinks and quiet conversations. This is what you came for.

The crowd is exactly as you expected—a mixture of sweaty bodies, neon lights, and the pulsating energy of a hundred people trying to escape their realities, if only for a few hours. You take a deep breath, letting the beat of the music invade your senses. For a second, you feel a bit more free.

You grab a drink from one of the servers, not caring much about what it is, and make your way into the center of the dance floor. The drink is cool in your hand as you take a sip, feeling the sharp burn of the alcohol before you set it aside, letting yourself be carried away by the rhythm.

The night is finally starting to feel a bit more like it should.

As you lose yourself in the music, the bass vibrating through your bones, you feel the tension in your body start to melt away. For the first time tonight, you're not thinking about the drama, the men, or the uncomfortable constraints of the VIP booth. The club is full of people, all dancing, laughing, and letting go of whatever worries they might have had earlier. You let yourself blend into the crowd, moving fluidly to the beat, forgetting about everything except the thrum of the music and the freedom in the space around you.

It feels nice. Very nice, in fact. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been to a club, let alone go dancing. You forgot how freeing it feels. Of course, the alcohol plays a role in the freeing sensation, but it’s also the fact that you can let loose. You don’t have to think of anyone else but yourself at this moment. That realization makes your lips upturn, hips swaying and eyes closing in a euphoric blissfulness. 

You can tell it’s been a while since you’ve been down here by the way sweat beads at your forehead and the back of your neck. You don’t wipe it off, however. That’s the whole point. 

But as you move, you can suddenly feel eyes on you. At first, it's easy to dismiss the sensation, assuming it’s just the way the lights play across the room, making everyone appear to be watching. But the longer you dance, the more you realize that someone is actually watching, their gaze sharp and unwavering. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s Naoya.

His presence is unmistakable. Even amidst the blur of strangers, you can feel him like a weight in the air, his energy standing out amongst the crowd. He’s standing at the edge of the dance floor, his arms folded, his expression unreadable but clearly intent on you. You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to do. Something about the way he’s staring makes your stomach flip, though you can’t quite tell whether it’s from excitement or unease.

You try to ignore it, but the discomfort lingers. You dance a little harder, moving to the rhythm, hoping the feeling will pass. But Naoya doesn’t look away. In fact, his posture shifts slightly, and the subtle smirk that plays on his lips only deepens. 

At that moment, you feel an unexpected shift in the crowd around you. You glance over, expecting to see some stranger encroaching on your space, but instead, it’s just the pulse of the music getting more intense. Still, you can’t shake the feeling that Naoya is watching you with something more than curiosity. His gaze is intense, too intense for a simple night out. 

The realization starts to gnaw at you. He’s waiting for something. And it’s not just the usual flirtatious attention. There’s a deliberate energy in the air, a challenge almost. 

You swallow thickly, trying to push the tension away. But it’s getting harder to pretend like you’re not aware of him, especially as you move.

“Having fun?” Naoya’s voice cuts through the noise as he approaches you, standing dangerously close, almost too close. You freeze momentarily, caught off guard by his forced proximity. He towers over you, the heat from his body radiating towards you, his gaze locked onto yours like he’s studying you, dissecting you. 

You open your mouth to respond but nothing comes out, your mind scrambling for something to say, anything to break the intensity of the moment. Instead, your eyes dart toward the exit of the dance floor. You need space. But Naoya doesn’t give you the chance to retreat.

“You seem a little distracted tonight,” he murmurs, his voice low as if they’re the only two people in the room.

You know he’s not just talking about the music. A part of you wants to pull away, to tell him you’re fine, but another part feels caught in his web. 

He leans in slightly, his voice nearly lost in the music. “I thought you’d be enjoying yourself up there. Why the sudden change of heart?”

You tilt your head, forcing yourself to stay grounded. “I just needed a change of pace, that’s all.”

Naoya looks you over with a raised eyebrow, his posture leaning just a bit closer. “I see.” His voice drops to a teasing whisper. “You’re not trying to forget anything, are you?”

You glance at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

He doesn’t answer right away, letting the question hang in the air for a second. Instead, he moves closer, his hand brushing against the small of your back. His touch is light, but there’s an intensity behind it, a pull that almost makes you lose focus. The air around you thickens, the moment stretching out longer than necessary.

“I’m just wondering how long you’re going to keep running away from what’s really bothering you,” Naoya murmurs, his smirk never faltering.

You can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. His words—casual, yet somehow pointed—cut through the haze of alcohol in your mind. It’s strange how Naoya can make you feel uncomfortably exposed even when he’s doing the least. That’s not normal. 

“I’m not running from anything,” you say, your voice steady but your heart suddenly a little heavier. “Just enjoying the night, like you said.”

Naoya chuckles softly, though there’s a sharpness to it now. “Sure, just enjoying the night. You do that.” He leans in closer, almost too close now, his breath brushing your ear. “But you should know, sometimes the thing you’re trying to forget ends up finding you, no matter how far you run.”

You tense, your pulse racing, and for a moment, you wonder if he knows something—something about you, about Satoru, or maybe even about your own deepest fears. His hands are on your hips before you know it, moving your body in a swaying motion to the beat of the music. 

And for some reason, you let him. Feeling the weight of his ominous words stay heavy on your mind, fixating on a random tile of the floor. You feel his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, unmoving. For a second, you feel yourself give in. Placing your hands atop his in a hesitant manner—testing out the waters. 

And instantly, you’re met with your answer, a nauseating pit forming in your gut. Lip curling into a tiny sneer. 

“W-where’s Hana?” You blurt out, pushing his hands away from you and turning around to face him. 

There’s a momentary look of shock on his face before he pulls it back down into his usual Cheshire grin, though you can tell it looks more forced than usual this time. His eyes narrowed. “Oh, Hana? She’s still upstairs.”

“And you left her there?” You huff with disbelief, your head shaking. You attempt to side-step past him, but he’s putting an arm around your shoulder before you can go. 

“Don’t worry, pretty. I can lead you to her.”

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol clouding your judgment or the lingering discomfort from his presence, but you find yourself stopping. His touch, warm but unnerving, keeps you in place as his arm wraps around you. His grip feels possessive in a way that makes your skin crawl, and for the briefest second, you almost feel trapped.

You glance up at him, his grin too wide, too knowing. There’s something in his eyes—something that doesn’t sit right with you. His words float in your mind like smoke: “The thing you’re trying to forget ends up finding you.”

Forcing a tight-lipped smile, you tilt your head toward the stairs, where you know Hana must be waiting. “I think I’ll find her myself,” you say, trying to keep your voice calm, and detached, though your pulse quickens.

Naoya’s eyes glint with something unreadable, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he tightens his arm around your shoulder, his touch more possessive than before, making it hard to breathe. “I’m just trying to help, sweetheart. What’s the harm in me escorting you?” His voice is low, almost coaxing like he’s trying to pull you into his orbit.

Before you know it, he’s taking you upstairs. All the while keeping his arm around you. You gulp down the lump in your throat, unsure if you should push him off and let him take you to your friend. Maybe you’re overthinking—overreacting. Once you two are upstairs, he’s walking past the booths. You glance at the booth you were once at, seeing no sight of your friend. 

Panic trickles in slowly as he takes you down a small hallway, turning to his right and opening the last door. 

You’re taking in everything. Women, men, glasses of alcohol. Some make out and others getting frisky with each other. The room feels even more suffocating than the second floor itself. But your eyes don’t just widen at what the others are doing, but what your friend is doing. 

She’s sitting beside some guys you don’t even know, white snowy lines laid out in front of them on the glass table. She’s leaning down, holding a finger to her nostril and just about to partake in the activity when you snatch her up by her arm. “Hana! W-what the hell are you doing?!”

Hana looks up at you, her face slightly flushed and her eyes glazed over, an uncharacteristic haze of confusion settling over her expression as she blinks a few times. The room is full of murmurs, laughter, and the sharp scent of something far stronger than alcohol. For a moment, Hana doesn’t seem to recognize you at all, or perhaps she’s just too far gone to care. The men around her don’t react immediately, their attention is divided between each other and whatever else is happening in the room.

“Hana!” you repeat, voice rising in panic, shaking her arm a little more forcefully. Your grip is tight, and you can feel the tremor in your hand as the weight of the situation starts to sink in.

She blinks again, then her gaze clears just enough to focus on you. “Y/N?” she slurs, a small frown forming as she rubs her nose absentmindedly. “What’s up? I was just… having fun.”

“This isn’t fun, Hana!” You pull her up from her seat, your voice trembling as you yank her away from the men. “This is dangerous—what are you thinking?”

Hana stumbles a little, her movements sluggish, and she doesn’t seem to fully grasp the seriousness of the moment. She laughs softly, her words laced with a slur that makes it hard for you to hear her clearly. “Come on, Y/N, chill out. It’s just a little fun. You’ve been so uptight lately... you need to loosen up, too.”

Your heart races as you glance back at Naoya, still standing in the doorway, his hand resting casually on the frame. His grin is gone, replaced by a coldness that seems to make the room feel even more stifling. You’re left standing there, breath shallow, with Hana still swaying slightly in your grip. You don’t know how long it takes for the fog of confusion to lift from her eyes, but when it does, her face falls.

Your stomach twists, both from the overwhelming sense of protectiveness and the lingering disgust at what she’d been about to do. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You’ve been friends for too long to just let this go. You can’t leave her here like this—not with those people, not in this situation.

You pull her closer, your voice softening. “We’re leaving, Hana. Now.”

A beat of silence hangs between you, and for a moment, you think she might actually listen, but then she looks at you with frustration, and then back at Naoya, who hasn’t moved an inch.

“Why are you always trying to control everything, Y/N?” she snaps, and it feels like a slap to the face. “I’m fine. Just let me do what I want for once.”

It’s the final straw. You can’t stand it anymore. You’re about to pull her out of the room, about to drag her away from this mess, but Naoya steps forward, a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to stop. “Maybe you should let her be, Y/N,” he says, voice calm but his grip tightening on you. “She’s not your responsibility tonight.”

Your anger flares, but your mind is spinning too fast to catch up. You want to scream. You want to slap him across the face, but you know better. You can feel the weight of the situation settling in, and something about being in this room with him, watching everything around you spiral out of control, is making you lose your footing.

And Hana—she’s still there, looking so lost, so far gone.

You feel the pressure of Naoya’s touch on your shoulder, almost like an invisible barrier, stopping you from moving. The walls feel like they’re closing in, the air heavy and thick with tension.

“Did you bring her in here? Did you force her to do things she couldn’t consent to?” You ask, forcing your drunken mess away for just a moment to deal with the situation at hand. 

His head tilts in faux innocence. “What? No. She said she wanted to meet my friends so I let her. I said I’d be back in a few minutes, I didn’t know she’d be doing anything like that.”

“But you still left her alone.” You grit. 

“So? She’s a grown woman. Besides, she’s not alone.” He gestures to the people inside. 

You can feel your heart racing, each word hanging in the air like a heavy weight, suffocating you more than the dense atmosphere of the room. Your chest tightens with anger and concern for your friend. The nerve of him—standing there, acting like he didn’t know what was happening. He knows exactly what’s going on, and now he’s just playing it off like it’s nothing.

“You still left her alone,” you repeat, voice sharper this time, forcing yourself to meet his eyes even though every instinct tells you to look away. “If you had any decency at all, you wouldn’t have let her get to this point.” 

Naoya shrugs, an almost bored expression on his face, like he’s done this too many times to count and knows exactly how to make people like you back down. “Decency? You want me to babysit her?” His lips curl into that smirk again, the one that sends a chill down your spine. “I’m not her keeper, Y/N. She made her own choices.”

Your hands shake, but you force them to remain steady. You glance at Hana again, who’s swaying, her mind clearly lost in whatever she was about to do, her gaze vacant. The sight makes your stomach churn, the reality of how deep she’s gotten into all this hitting you like a punch to the gut.

“Then why did you bring her here?” you ask, struggling to keep your voice from breaking. “Why even let her near this place if you knew what was going on?”

Naoya’s eyes narrow, and for a second, you think you might have actually caught him off guard. But then his expression hardens, and the slight tension in his jaw gives way to a shrug. “Because she wanted to be here. She asked to come. I didn’t make her.” His tone is colder now, more dismissive. “You know, Y/N, sometimes people just want to let loose. You can’t control everything. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

You flinch at his words, and that’s when you know—you’re not going to get anything else from him. He’s already too far gone into his own ego, into this sick game he’s playing. But you won’t stop. Not when Hana’s here, not when she’s clearly in over her head.

Taking a deep breath, you step forward, putting yourself between Naoya and Hana, your voice unwavering. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Naoya opens his mouth as if to argue, but you don’t give him the chance. You grab Hana’s arm again, more forcefully this time, pulling her away from the table. She resists at first, confused, but your grip is unyielding.

“Come on, Hana. We’re going.” You almost want to shout it, to get her out of there before anything else can happen, but instead, you keep your voice steady, calm, for her.

She blinks at you, her vision blurry. “But... Y/N... I... I’m fine, I just... I just wanted to try it...”

“No, Hana,” you snap, cutting her off before she can finish her sentence. “This is not you. You’re not fine.” 

The words hit her hard. You can see it in her eyes—the brief flash of clarity before the fog comes back over them. She sways, but you manage to keep her steady as you drag her out of the room, ignoring the stares and whispers of the people inside.

Naoya doesn’t try to stop you. He stands there, arms crossed, watching you leave with that same smirk plastered across his face.

You can hear him mutter under his breath. And you find that being your final straw again. 

You stop in your tracks, holding your friend to your side by her waist. Debating. “Hey.”

He barely has time to look over his shoulder before your fist makes contact with his cheek. He audibly yelps in a feminine manner, instantly holding the injured area. “Ow! W—hey!” 

His mouth is agape, eyebrows furrowed and glaring at you with looks to kill. You wring out your fist, glad you wore your favorite ring today. You can’t punch for shit, yet he’s acting like…

“You crazy woman!” He huffs out, the room going silent as he has his breakdown. Rushing over and pushing a couple of women out of the way to cheek his face in the mirror. He sees the red area, and his lip is busted. Whipping his head back over to you. “How dare you?! I’ll fucking sue you for this, you know?”

“Go ahead, I have nothing to give you.” You reply back, turning on your heel and walking out. Footsteps quick from the sheer adrenaline and small amount of fear that he’ll try to grab you from behind. He doesn’t, luckily. 

All that matters now is getting Hana out of this hellhole. As you make your way to the exit, you finally feel like you can breathe again. But just barely.

Once you’re outside, the cold air hits your skin, grounding you. Hana stumbles beside you, still out of it, but you’ve done what you came to do. You’ve pulled her from the edge.

But as you both stand there, the reality of what just happened settles in. You’ve confronted Naoya, punched him, and you’ve dragged your friend out of a situation she was too far gone to see. But now, as the adrenaline begins to fade, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re not done yet.

You look down at your shaky fist, seeing the red knuckles. “…shit…” you mumble under your breath, chest heaving up and down. You gasp and catch yourself on a light pole when Hana suddenly goes dead weight and almost brings you down to the concrete with her. It takes everything in you to hold her up.

Your vision feels wavy, feeling your feet stumble a bit to the right from your own inebriation before catching yourself mid-haze. “Okay, okay.” 

You’re bear-hugging her to your chest, holding your bodies up against the light pole. Breathing in and out heavily, eyes closing as you try to figure out a situation for this all. Your ride, gone. You didn’t even bring money for a taxi. And your friend is passed out drunk. You do a mental checklist of people who can haul you and Hana’s drunk asses back home. Only coming out with two viable options. And one of those is currently watching your son at home. 

Leaving only one other person. 

Satoru has been lounging around your place for a few hours now, bored out of his mind. He switches from laying on the couch, to rummaging through your cabinets and reading the expiration date on everything, to checking on his son. 

He sighs heavily, staring down at the familiar key he had gifted you that lies on the kitchen counter. Untouched. He still hasn’t asked about your confirmation of the place he bought for you two, he figures he can do that tomorrow. But the fact that you haven’t seemed to put much regard into it feels like a small dig to him, his frown deepening. Did you not care for it? Do you not like it? The fact that he went out of his way to buy you and his son a better place to live??

He needs to clear his mind. 

Walking over to Koji’s room, peeking in once more, everything is the same. His son still sleeps peacefully, snoring lightly and holding his Spider-Man close to his chest with his blankets thrown over him. The Spider-Man makes Satoru scowl again, forcing his eyes away and to the small hamper in the corner. 

He might as well do something productive now. 

Carefully, he walks in and grabs the hamper, walking back out with effortless silence. Going over to your washer and dryer, opening the two doors to reveal them. He already sees a full hamper on top of the washer and sighs. “C’mon, Y/N,” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head. 

Flipping the light switch on, he puts both hampers on the ground and it takes him a while to figure out how to work your washer. Afterward, he opens the lid and tosses on Koji’s small load, then yours. He tries not to hold onto your panties and bras for too long, not trying to be a perv. But he’s a man, after all. A man who may still have feelings for his ex. 

So when he sees a pair of blue, lace panties, he thinks he might get a hard on right then and there. You creep! He’s holding it in front of his face, admiring the dangling fabric. He’s surprised you still have this. He remembers the…day you got it, after all. Yep, he feels his pants tighten. 

The sick, twisted part of him tells him to give the panties a small sniff. What you don’t know won’t hurt you, right?

No, no. That’s disgusting of you, Satoru. 

He shakes his head, reminding himself that he can’t do this and that he has a girlfriend. And by the gods above, he quickly tosses it into the washer before he loses control. The rest of your clothes consist of pants, sweats, a jacket, a few shirts, and a….wait. 

…what’s this?

Getting to the bottom of your hamper, he comes across a shirt. One that’s too oversized to fit you. One that’s cotton. One that smells faintly like someone else he knows. One that he bought for his best friend two Christmases ago. 

Satoru stares at the shirt in his hands, his eyes narrowing as the realization hits him like a cold slap to the face. The fabric feels heavier in his grip than it should, and the faint scent clings to it—the unmistakable scent of someone else. Someone he knows. Someone who's apparently been a part of your life in ways that make him uncomfortable to even consider.

His stomach twists, a mix of anger and confusion flooding his thoughts. The shirt feels like a thread unraveling everything he’s been trying to convince himself of. He knows it’s irrational to feel the way he does, but in that moment, all he can think of is him. His best friend. The one who’s always been there. The one who seems too close to you. His grip tightens around the fabric, his stomach dropping. Gulping hard and forcing himself not to jump to conclusions. 

But that’s pretty fucking hard. 

Why the fuck do you have Suguru’s shirt? Why is it in your dirty clothes? Did he just put it there? Did he spend the night? Did you and him—

He tosses the shirt back into the hamper with more force than necessary, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s there. It’s his.  

Satoru runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. What is he supposed to do with this? He doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but everything about this feels wrong. He glances over at the pile of clothes—your clothes. He sees everything but that damn shirt. But it's there now, in his mind, looming like a specter. 

Satoru grabs the rest of the clothes, hastily tossing them into the washer, but it’s hard to focus. His mind keeps returning to that one question. That one shirt. And the nagging thought that maybe, just maybe, there's something he's been missing.

He almost feels like gagging as he closes the two doors and turns the light off, head spinning. He places a hand to his forehead, blinking hard. 

His head whips over to the front door when he hears muffled chatter from outside. 

“Thank you for coming on short notice,” you mumble in embarrassment, focusing your eyes on your fiddling hands in your lap. 

“Don’t thank me, Y/N. I would’ve come either way.” Suguru responds, smiling briefly at you before focusing back on the road. 

You’re just dropped Hana off. The trip felt way easier since Suguru opted to carry her in and to her bed, with you grabbing her keys and unlocking her door. When you left, you made sure everything else was locked. He didn’t even question anything, simply doing as you asked. 

Of course his gaze is riddled with concern, confusion, and skepticism. You don’t miss the way he keeps looking down at your red knuckles that you hide, but with the way you haven’t mentioned anything about the night, he figures you won’t talk about it. 

“How much did you drink? I brought some water, it’s on the door.” He juts his head in your direction. 

You glance down and grab the bottle, thanking him as you down it. “Um…just a few drinks. I’m not entirely sober right now, still.”

Suguru nods slowly, not saying anything for a moment as the car hums along the quiet road. He doesn’t push you to talk, but he knows something’s off. You’ve been quieter than usual, and the tension in the air is palpable. He’s been around you long enough to sense when something isn’t right, but he’s trying not to pry—especially when you’re clearly trying to avoid the topic.

When you finish the water, he glances over at you, eyes softening. “I know you’re not ready to talk, Y/N. But you know I’m here, right? If you ever want to—”

You nod quickly, cutting him off, but not in a way that’s dismissive. It’s more like you’re trying to assure him. “I know. Thanks, Suguru.” The words hang between you both, neither of you fully comfortable in the silence. Guilt hits you, so you continue. “I just…tonight didn’t go as planned.”

He nods, stopping at a red light. Finally taking the chance to look at you fully once more. His lips thin in displeasure when he sees your current state. Shivering, flushed cheeks, hazy eyes, hair messy. He sighs and reaches in the backseat and brings out a warm, thick black jacket. Putting it over your shoulders. “Put that on, okay? Keep yourself warm and hydrated.”

Your lips part, but you nod and smile slightly. “…thank you,” you murmur, holding the jacket closer. 

“And don’t thank me anymore, okay?” He replies, hints of playfulness in his voice like he’s trying to ease the mood. When the light turns green, the car moves forward again and gets closer to your apartment complex. 

You let out a quiet breath, the warmth of his jacket enveloping you as you pull it tighter around your shoulders. The night feels like a blur now, too many conflicting emotions tangled together. Suguru’s steady presence is a welcome relief, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve lost control in some way. Tonight wasn’t just a mess—it was a wake-up call.

As he makes the final turn toward your apartment, you glance at him, still holding the jacket close. His eyes are on the road, but you can tell he’s trying to read you without being too obvious. There’s concern in the way his brows are furrowed, even though he’s doing his best to keep things light.

“I didn’t expect the night to turn out like this,” you admit, voice quieter than before. “I thought it’d just be a fun time with Hana, but… everything kind of spiraled.”

Suguru’s expression softens, though his gaze doesn’t stray from the road. “I know you wanted to have a good time, Y/N. Sometimes things just… happen. Doesn’t mean you can’t recover from it.”

You glance out the window, trying to focus on the passing scenery. The bright lights of the city feel like a distant memory compared to the emotional chaos inside your head. You force your stomach not to start twisting. “I know. It’s just hard. I never thought I’d have to deal with something like this.”

Suguru reaches for the wheel a bit tighter, but his voice is gentle as ever. “You don’t have to carry all of it alone, you know? Not everything is on your shoulders. Let yourself breathe a little.”

You bite your lip. I tried doing that tonight, look where that got me. You stay silent as he finds a space and parks, deciding he’s dealt with enough of your burdens. 

“I’ll walk you up,” he mutters, unbuckling and getting out of the car to come to your side. He helps you out wordlessly, closing the door behind you and locking his car. 

Your footsteps falter for a moment. “I-is it okay if I lean—”

“Of course,” he cuts you off, holding a steady arm around your waist and allowing you to use him as grounding for your leaning weight. He’s practically leading you, but you have no problem with it. Even as you two enter the elevator, the silence doesn’t feel bad. It doesn’t feel uncomfortable. If anything, you’re leaning more into him, the side of your head against his chest. 

He glances down at the top of your head, pulling you just a tad bit closer and twisting the urge to plant a kiss to your hair. His thumb rubs small, soothing circles around your hip, feeling you lean more and more against him. 

The doors open and he’s slowing his movements for you. “Still with me?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He smiles and looks forward. “Good, don’t go falling asleep. Get some water in you, maybe some bread.”

You can’t help but softly chuckle. “You know, you’ve been really nice to me, Suguru. Nicer than anyone else.”

Your words are getting quiet and more mumbled—slurred. But he can still faintly piece your words together. You feel the rumble in his chest from his coaxing laugh. “Yeah? I think I’m just acting how any other man would.”

“Not any other man.” You reply.

He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, getting a tiny idea of who you may be referring to. But he doesn’t want to ruin your night even more by saying his name. 

The quiet hum of the building is a comfort, a stark contrast to the chaos of earlier. You’re not sure how much of your surroundings you’re taking in; your thoughts are still clouded from the night’s events. The warmth of Suguru’s presence, his steady support, makes it easier to keep going. When you reach your door, he stops, giving you the space to find your keys in your pocket. You fumble a little, but Suguru doesn’t rush you. He stands patiently, his thumb still grazing the side of your hip. He’s careful not to crowd you too much, but there’s an undeniable sense of protectiveness in the way he stands close.

Finally, you manage to find your key. You glance up at Suguru, your eyes a little foggy. “Thank you… for everything.”

He smiles down at you, the warmth in his expression making your chest tighten a little. “It’s nothing, really. Just doing what’s right.”

You hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should say anything else, but the words slip out before you can stop them. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Suguru’s eyes widen slightly but his smile softenn. His hand traveling up to gently tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’ll always be around when you need me.”

There’s a quiet beat between you two, the silence saying more than words ever could. You swallow down the lump in your throat, trying to keep the emotions from overwhelming you. You gently bite your bottom lip, the action causing his eyes to flicker down towards it. “I just…I feel like I haven’t been having anyone on my side lately. I’m…I’m glad I have you.” 

His insides practically melt at your soft, drunken tone of voice and the way you’re gazing up at him. Suguru feels his heart shift, warmth pooling in his chest at your vulnerability. He’s never seen you quite like this, so open and raw, and it makes him want to protect you in a way that’s deeper than he expected. The softness in your voice, the way you lean into him—it all pulls him in closer, making his resolve weaken just a bit. He swallows hard, stepping a little closer to you, but trying to keep his distance, knowing that you’re vulnerable right now, not fully in control of your emotions.

“Y/N,” he says gently, his voice low but steady. He reaches for your hands, lifting them from where you were gripping the door, and holds them softly in his. “I'm not the only one, I promise. But I’m always going to have your back. You never have to feel alone, okay? We all go through tough times, but you’re not carrying it on your own.”

You nod slowly, eyes glimmering with a mix of gratitude and something else he can’t quite place. Your fingers curl around his as if you’re grounding yourself in his touch, a small comfort in the sea of uncertainty.

“You’re not like the others, Suguru,” you murmur, barely above a whisper. “You make me feel… safe.”

The words hang in the air, delicate and full of meaning. Suguru’s chest tightens again, but this time it’s not from concern or pity—it’s from something else. Something warm, something that feels a little dangerous, but right. He tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing, as he registers the way you’re looking at him.

“You’re safe with me,” he says softly, his voice almost a promise. “You always will be.”

You both stand there in the quiet, the weight of everything between you—everything unsaid—lingering. Suguru’s hand reaches up, brushing your hair away from your face again, his fingers lingering a little longer than necessary, like he’s trying to convey something in that simple touch. 

You blink, breaking the moment just enough to step back. “I should go inside.”

Suguru nods, not forcing anything further. He understands. “Yeah, go get some rest. Drink that water, and don’t forget about the bread.”

You tiredly smile, looking back at your door and putting the key in its hole. But, you find yourself hesitating. Movements stilling as thoughts overwhelmed your already vulnerable brain. You’re looking back at him before you know it. 

His eyebrows raise. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head in response, your heart beating faster. He says nothing, just allowing the little staring contest to continue on. For some reason, it’s making you not want to face your reality. God, it’s the fact that you have no idea what you’re doing to him. How stuck he feels, how guilty he feels and how perfect it all feels at the same time. It’s almost not fair.

Maybe it’s just the fact that you’ve experienced more shit than you would’ve wanted to tonight—and of course, you’re a lightweight. Hence why you don’t really like drinking in the first place. But you’ve needed one recently. 

So yeah, your balance is not very steady, your head feels light but heavy at the same time, your lips are curved up into a smile on their own and your calculations are a little miscalculated. 

Because you could swear that with the way he’s looking at you now, his lids the slightest bit hooded that one could miss it, his tilted head, and the way he’s leaned in close enough that you can smell his intoxicating cologne…he’s looking tempted. 

And to be honest, so are you. 

The night air is suddenly quiet, you’ve been staring into his eyes for who knows how long now and your breathing feels shallower. It feels like a sappy romance movie you watched when you were a tween and wished upon a star that one day it would happen to you. Except it’s not the person you would’ve exactly wanted. But your body is still reacting all the same. 

What does that mean for you?

Your key is still lodged in the hole of your door, seemingly frozen—but awaiting. He leans in and your eyelids flutter. “I’m sorry.”

“F-for what…?”

“For being such a selfish man right now.” He places a steady hand to your waist as your body swayed backwards again. 

It’s just the alcohol talking. “I-it’s okay…”

“Is it?” He mutters, breath fanning your face. 

This time, you lean closer, practically moving up to your tip-toes. You notice the way his eyes have darkened, glancing down at your pink, parted lips. “Yeah, I think…I want to be selfish too.”

He smiles, matching your drunken one. Your right hand raises to his cheek, admiring the heat that wavers off of it. You think you want more of his magnetic heat. He doesn’t move, allowing you to do the work. Maneuvering your head up to close the rest of the distance. And you’re so close, so very close that you could practically lick his lips if you wanted.

His lips part, making space for your own to slot between them. Just when you’re about to—

Your door yanks open from the inside, jolting you back to reality. Eyes wide and looking over at the culprit.

Oh, fuck.

Satoru stands in your doorway, hair poking up at all different angles, jaw clenched and saccharine eyes darting around at the sight in front of him, of what he just interrupted. And it feels like you’ve just been burned, pulling back and away from Suguru like you’ve been caught cheating. Suguru matches your actions, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “S-Satoru…” you mutter, swallowing. 

“What’s this?” He asks, looking between you and his best friend. “He brought you home?”

“I—”

“She called me to pick her and her friend up, Satoru.” Suguru interrupts, meeting his friend with undeterred eye contact. 

However, that seems to be just the icing on top for Satoru. Turning his gaze towards you, looking up and down quickly. “…So…I’m watching our son while you go ahead and get yourself shitfaced, you’re gone for hours without any call or text to let me know you’re okay, and when you come back… you’re about to…kiss my fucking best friend?”

“Sato—”

“Shut the fuck up, Suguru.” He gives his friend a death glare, taking a step outside and forcing you to take a wobbly one back. Suguru doesn’t move. “Tell me, huh. You think I’m an idiot?”

“Satoru,” you reach out for his arm, but promptly pull back when he looks back at you. 

“And to think,” he scoffs, regarding you with an icy coldness that feels completely foreign to you. “I thought we had it okay for once. And now you’re fucking my best friend behind my back?”

“No! N-no, Suguru and I aren’t doing that.” You quickly protest. 

He simply scoffs and Suguru steps back in between you two. “Satoru, calm down, okay? We weren’t doing anything. Y/N’s been having a tough time and I’m just here to help her through that.”

“By what? Forcing yourself into her life? Into my son’s life? Who the hell do you think you are, Suguru?” He pushes the other man by his shoulder, to which Suguru does not fight back. 

You grimace, pulling back on his shirt. “Satoru, stop it, please. We aren’t doing anything like that.”

“Bullshit!” He snaps, throwing his arms up. “He gives you and Koji a present. I find his fucking shirt in your hamper, and now I just caught you two about to kiss. Did you fucking forget I was inside? Were you going to bring him inside and let him fuck you?”

Your mouth is agape, eyes blown wide at the accusations. The words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless and unable to form a coherent thought. Satoru’s accusations sting, each one harsher than the last. His anger is palpable, the venom in his voice making it hard to breathe, and yet all you can do is stand there in stunned silence, feeling the weight of the situation crash down on you.

“No... Satoru, I—I didn’t—” You struggle to find the words, but nothing seems to come out right. How do you explain something that’s so far from the truth but also so complicated in its own way? 

Suguru, his expression tight with frustration, steps forward, clearly trying to keep the situation from spiraling even further. "Satoru, this isn’t the way to handle it. Y/N’s been through a lot, and I'm just trying to be there for her. That’s all it is."

“You think that makes a difference?” Satoru spits, turning back to Suguru with a glare that could burn. “You think you can just waltz in, playing hero, and it’s all fine? You don’t get to play the martyr here. Not with my family.”

You flinch at the mention of Koji, feeling the sting of his words even more sharply now. "Satoru, please," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "Don’t talk about him like that. You know I would never—" 

But Satoru cuts you off with a sharp gesture, his eyes dark with fury. "No, you don’t get to explain yourself anymore. I saw it. I know what was happening."

Your heart races as the silence hangs heavy between you, Suguru and Satoru locked in a tense standoff. You can feel the weight of the accusations pressing down on you, suffocating you.

“I’m sorry, okay?” you manage, the words coming out in a broken whisper. “I’m so sorry. But I swear, nothing was going to happen. Nothing. I just... I didn’t know what else to do.”

Satoru doesn’t respond, but you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenches. Suguru looks between you both, his eyes softening just a fraction, but there’s nothing left to say. You’re standing at the edge of everything, and you don’t know how to fix this, how to make Satoru believe you.

“Satoru, Y/N’a a grown woman.” Suguru says. 

“Yeah? And what, that makes you a grown man?” 

Once more, Suguru is pushed by Satoru. You can see the growing irritability in Suguru’s expression, the way he’s doing his best to not give in and fight with his best friend. You’re torn, unsure of how you can stop this. Sure, you punched a man today, but he was a bitch. That doesn’t mean you can stop a possible  fight between two other men. “Please, don’t raise your voice, Satoru. I don’t want to wake Koji.”

“Oh, now you fucking care?” He huffs out. And that sentence alone puts a halt to you. Your mind momentarily freezes, going silent. He almost looks like he regrets the words as soon as they’re uttered, but it’s drowned out by his look of anger. 

Soon…you’re mirroring his fury. 

“What?” You quietly ask, letting out a deep huff. “What? What the fuck did you just say to me?”

This time, it’s you who pushes the pusher. He stumbles back barely, caught off guard by your suddenness before he’s planting himself in place. “Don’t touch me, Y/N.”

“Then don’t you ever say something like that! I’ve done everything I could for Koji and more. You had no idea what kind of shit I went through alone.” You grit out. 

“Because of you! Because of your own stupid decision to not let me in, let me help you!” He argues back. He's right. He's always right. And that’s why you two could never work together because while Satoru was always right, you were always wrong. They say opposites attract, when actually, opposites do nothing prove what the other could never be.

And after the events of tonight, you’re growing tired of holding back your explosion. Your drunken brain is telling you to fight fire with fire. 

“Because you were a fucking shitty person!” You shout back, aware of the fact that your loud voice may cause some of your neighbors to wake up. Koji to wake up. “And now you’re getting mad at me for trying to move on? For trying to live my life? Fuck you! You have a fucking girlfriend who treats me like shit and you let it happen!”

“You want to play that game, Y/N? Really?” Satoru replies, a dead firmness in his tone. 

Before you can respond, Suguru, ever the peacemaker, is cutting in again. “Y/N, stop it, okay? Go inside, you’re drunk. Satoru, don’t—”

He’s cut off by another push from Satoru. “Don’t tell me what to fucking do, Suguru. You’re trying to get with my ex behind my back, is that how low you’ve become?”

“Satoru,” he slowly exhales out, trying to calm himself. “I’m not doing that. Y/N and I aren’t getting together. I’m just being here for her.”

“By trying to get in bed with her?”

Suguru has begun to have enough. “Stop speaking like that, Satoru.” He gruffs out.

The atmosphere crackles with tension, and your pulse races as Satoru’s words hit harder than before, each one a slap in the face. You can feel the anger bubbling up inside you, pushing you past the point of control, past the point of regret. This argument feels like it’s never going to end—like it’s been building for years, simmering beneath the surface, only now it’s boiling over in a mess of accusations and past hurts.

Satoru’s sneer deepens as he stares you down. “You think I don’t know what’s going on? I’m not stupid, Y/N. Don’t think you can pull the wool over my eyes now. You think you’re going to move on with him after everything?”

You step closer to him, barely noticing the way your hands are trembling, your heart pounding in your chest and tears prickling at your eyes. “I’m not moving on with anyone. Not like you think. But you—” You pause, trying to steady your breath. “You’ve had no idea what I’ve been through. You’ve walked away at times when I needed you the most, Satoru. Don’t fucking act like I owe you anything now.”

Satoru’s expression darkens, his hands balling into fists, but you don’t flinch. “I’m sorry if you think I don’t care, but I’ve been in the fucking trenches with you, Y/N. Do you think it was easy for me too? To watch you shut me out? To watch you fucking struggle with everything while I—while I—tried to be there for you? But I was never enough, was I?” His voice cracks with a mix of frustration and disbelief, but it’s too much. It’s too late for apologies and explanations. You feel your vision blur with tears, and for a brief moment, you almost crumble under the weight of the argument, the hurt, the feeling of being misunderstood.

“You knew you could’ve tried hard enough. You knew that, you know that.” You argue, despite your shaky voice. 

His eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth to say something, but Suguru steps forward, intervening again, his voice low and firm, but there’s a warning in it. “Enough, Satoru. You’re not hearing her. This isn’t about you anymore.”

Satoru’s fists clench at his sides, his jaw tight with frustration. “It’s always been about me, Suguru. It’s always been about what I need, what I want. And now you want to play the hero? To take my place in my own fucking life?”

Suguru shakes his head, his expression hardening. “No, I’m not trying to take your place. But you’re blind if you don’t see how much she’s suffered. How much she’s going through. And how much you’re still hurting her by dragging all this up now.”

“Shut up,” Satoru snaps, and his voice is harsh enough to make you flinch. “I don’t need a lecture from you, not now.”

Suguru doesn’t back down, his eyes never leaving Satoru’s. “Then maybe you should take a fucking look at yourself first.”

For a moment, the three of you stand there in silence, the tension thick enough to slice through. Your heart is racing, your mind spinning with a mix of anger, hurt, and confusion. The words you’ve been holding back for so long feel too much to bear, too raw to say out loud, but now they’re there, sitting on your tongue, threatening to spill.

You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, but the weight of everything is overwhelming. Your hands tremble as you press them against your sides, eyes focusing on the ground to keep from breaking down. But the words, the truth you’ve been holding inside for so long, feel like they’re going to suffocate you if you don’t let them out.

“I didn’t mean for this, Satoru. I didn’t mean for any of it,” you finally say, your voice thick with emotion. Your chest tightens, your breath shaky as you look at him, the tears threatening to fall. “But now you’re standing here, making it worse, blaming me for everything. I’m always getting blamed, no matter what. For trying to find happiness. For surviving.” You swallow hard, your voice quieter but still filled with the weight of everything you’ve been holding back. “But you don’t get to make me feel bad about trying to heal, Satoru. You don’t get to make me feel like I’m the one who ruined everything when you were the one who stopped trying.”

Suguru’s gaze flickers to you, a flicker of concern flashing across his face, but it’s Satoru who you focus on. The silence stretches, suffocating, before he speaks again, his tone hard, bitter, but with a hint of something deeper—something vulnerable. “I never wanted to leave you,” he mutters, almost too quietly. “But you shut me out. You kept pushing me away like I didn’t matter.”

“You didn’t try hard enough to matter,” you shoot back, your voice a little stronger now. “You didn’t try to understand. You didn’t try to see me. You only saw what you wanted, what fit into your world. And I couldn’t do that anymore. I couldn’t just keep being this thing that existed to meet your needs, while I fell apart. I couldn’t.”

Satoru’s eyes flicker, and for a moment, you swear you see something break in him. But it’s gone just as quickly as it appears, replaced by the cold, hardened exterior he’s been wearing for so long. “You think this is easy for me?” he spits, voice laced with something that could be self-loathing. “You think it’s easy watching you—watching him—take over everything I thought was mine? That’s not fair either, Y/N.”

“You don’t own me, Satoru,” you whisper, the words coming out stronger than you expect. “You never did.”

Suguru steps forward again, his voice steady but firm. “Enough. This isn’t going anywhere. It’s just going to keep hurting both of you.”

But Satoru isn’t listening. His fists clench again, his jaw tight as he shakes his head, the hurt flashing in his eyes. “I don’t know how to fix this, Y/N. I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I ever could.”

The rawness in his voice catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. The anger and resentment still burn in your chest, but beneath it all, you realize that maybe, just maybe, there’s still something left. Something that isn’t as broken as you thought.

But it’s too late for that. It’s too late for him.

With a shaky breath, you look away, your heart heavy in your chest, and turn toward the door. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Satoru. It’s done.”

Suguru’s hand rests gently on your shoulder as you walk past, his silent support a comfort, even though the pain doesn’t fade. And Satoru stays there, his fists trembling at his sides, caught between regret and anger, as you step back into your home and shut the door behind you.

The tears overcoming your being once you’re locked inside, taking the jackets off haphazardly and tossing your purse onto the sofa. Holding a hand to your mouth to muffle your cries as you walk past Koji’s door and to your own room, silently shutting and locking it. 

You crumble into your bed, holding your pillow close, and making you feel like a little girl all over again. Letting your warm tears wash your makeup away and stain your white pillow. Feeling your body trembling from every sensation flowing through it right now. You feel your heart pick up way too fast for your liking and you’re almost sure you’re breathing at an erratic pace right now. 

You feel like no matter what, you can never do good in your life. You fucked up tonight by trying to kiss Suguru, you fucked up by keeping Koji a secret, you fucked up by even going out in the first place. 

Everything is crumbling down at you all at once and you think it’s about time you toss the rag in. Because everyone has their breaking point, you’re not sure if you hit yours yet, but it damn well feels like you have. And now you’ve probably broken up a years long friendship due to your own selfishness, to your own stupid intoxication. You’re wrong in every aspect. Everything is eating you alive right now, leaving just a hollow suit in its place. 

You wonder how things will look going forward. 

And you wonder if you’ve ruined any little chance at possibly having Satoru in your grasp again. 

A small knock pulls your attention, shifting your eyes open and looking over to the small head that peeks through. Oh god, this is the last thing you wanted. 

“Mama…” Koji’s small voice utters, slipping inside and coming over to your curled up form on the bed. “Mama, what’s wrong?”

You wish you had it in you to put on a poker face and dry your tears, giving him the usual lie. But tonight, you can’t. “…mama’s sad.” You whisper. 

His eyes widen, lip quivering down into a pout. Eyes glistening with his own onset of tears and he’s diving into your bed, scrambling up to your chest. Wrapping his tiny arms around your neck in such a fast way that it leaves you momentarily speechless. When he looks at you, you almost feel yourself wanting to cry harder at the sole fact that your son is seeing you like this, that he’s almost crying now too. “Please don’t cry, Mama. I don’t like you being sad.”

“I…I know.” You croak out, holding him close. “I know, Koji. And I’m…I’m so sorry. I can’t be strong today.”

He shakes his head furiously. “It’s okay! Because Papa told me that when I grow up, I’ll protect you. I’ll be strong and big like him. So…so maybe I can be strong today for you, Mama.”

Your heart shatters at his words, and despite the weight of everything that’s been crushing you, you hold him even tighter. The fragile little boy who’s trying so desperately to comfort you when he should be the one you’re protecting—it’s too much. You can’t hold back the flood of emotions anymore. You pull him into you, your arms trembling, but all you can do is let him in, letting his warmth and innocence wrap around your heart like a fragile balm.

“Oh, baby,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “You don’t have to be strong for me. You’re so strong already just by being you.” You bury your face in his hair, feeling his small body pressing against yours, his little heartbeat steady and comforting in a way nothing else can be. “I’m sorry you had to see me like this, Koji. I promise I’ll be okay.”

Koji’s small hands rub at your back, and his voice, though still a little quivery, carries the same hope and determination he always carries. “I’m gonna help you, Mama. I’ll make you smile again, okay? I promise.” His words, simple as they are, strike a chord deep inside, reminding you of everything you’ve fought for. You’ve fought to protect him, to give him a better life, to shield him from all the pain and hurt that came with being tied to Satoru, and now you’re breaking down in front of him. It feels so pathetic. 

But maybe you need to be broken in order to rebuild. Maybe it’s okay to let him see your fragility, so he knows it’s okay to feel and not bottle everything up. 

You breathe out a shaky laugh, lifting him slightly to kiss his forehead. “You’re my little hero, Koji. I’m so proud of you. I don’t deserve you.”

Koji, however, just shakes his head again, his small face scrunching up in determination. “No, Mama. I’m not a hero. You’re my hero. You always are.”

And somehow, in the midst of the mess you’ve found yourself in, his innocent words are the only thing grounding you. You’re not alone. You’re not broken beyond repair. You still have him. You still have him to fight for, to love, and to protect.

And right now, that’s all that matters. 

You hold him close, sinking deeper into your bed, feeling his small body curl up against you. The weight of the world still feels heavy on your shoulders, but for a brief moment, with Koji’s warmth surrounding you, you feel the tiniest flicker of hope. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Maybe you’ll figure things out. 

But for now, you let yourself cry. You let yourself grieve. Because tomorrow is another day.

a/n: soo many things happeneddddd. hoped u all enjoyed :)

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[heartsriki]

WHEN GOSSIP MEETS LOVE ⌇ 함께

pairing ᝰ sunghoon x fem!reader — featuring.. Jake (as jaeyun) & Riki | word count: 6.6k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ office romance, boss! sunghoon, fluff, tiny angst, make-outs, getting drunk, isolation, passing out, reader is blunt, sunghoon is arrogant at times.

synopsis — after being saved by Sunghoon on your first week of the job, you have had a blatant crush on him to the point the whole office knows. Later he learned of your interest, usually he wouldn’t care but why wont you make a move?

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊so this turned out way longer than expected… PLEASE READ THE BONUS ITS SO CUTE— Also I love me a semi arrogant man who gets put in his place 👅

Today was supposed to be just another day at the office. The same mind-numbing tasks, the same stale air, the same routine. The only thing that ever really changed around here was the gossip, and honestly, you kind of lived for it.

As you strolled down the hallway with a stack of papers in hand, you noticed your coworkers gathered in a huddle, whispering excitedly. Curiosity piqued, and you set the papers down on a nearby desk and wandered over.

“What’s going on?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

The group turned to you, immediately shushing you before gesturing toward the glass-walled conference room. “Look,” one of them whispered, pointing.

You followed their gaze to the meeting in progress—specifically, to the group of men seated at the table. Raising a brow, you asked, “So… we’re just staring at men now?”

One of the girls grinned, barely able to contain her excitement. “Not just men. They just hired Mr. Kim Sunoo. Isn’t he dreamy? He’s totally my type.”

Another chimed in, dramatically clutching her chest. “What I wouldn’t give to get a piece of Mr. Lee. Ugh, it’s unfair how perfect he is.”

You stood there, unimpressed, letting your eyes wander to the man sitting at the end of the table.

“What about you, Y/N?” one of them asked, nudging you with her elbow. “Anyone in there catch your eye?”

Before you could answer, a sharp cough sounded behind you, making the entire group freeze.

“Do you ladies have no shame?” Jaeyun drawled, raising an eyebrow as he sipped his coffee.

“Jesus, Mr. Sim, would it kill you to mind your own business?” one of the girls snapped, rolling her eyes.

Jaeyun chuckled. “And miss out on this? Never. Besides, everyone knows who Y/N’s been crushing on.”

You immediately stiffened, while the other two girls exchanged looks. Their eyes darted to where you were staring—at him.

“Mr. Park?”

“No way! He’s such an asshole.”

“You could do so much better.”

Their words blurred into background noise as you kept your gaze locked on Park Sunghoon, your so-called “crush.” But they didn’t get it. They couldn’t possibly understand. To them, he was cold and aloof—practically a robot. But to you? He was… interesting.

You didn’t always feel that way. When you started at the company a year ago, you weren’t interested in men—or dating at all. You were laser-focused on your career, and determined to climb the corporate ladder. Then you met him.

It all started your first week on the job. The office wasn’t the soul-crushing nightmare you’d seen in movies. Your little corner office was cozy, and your workload was manageable. Things were going smoothly—until they weren’t.

Some of the senior employees, jealous of your early success, had sabotaged your presentation for an important meeting. As you stood in front of the board fumbling through the slides, your confidence crumbled. Your hands shook, your throat felt dry, and your face burned with humiliation. Then, out of nowhere, he walked in.

Park Sunghoon strode up to your computer with an air of calm authority, plugging in a USB without a word. The correct presentation appeared on the screen, and you blinked in disbelief.

The head of the board narrowed his eyes. “Mr. Park, care to explain your tardiness?”

“I apologize,” Sunghoon said smoothly. “But I caught some employees tampering with Ms. Y/N’s presentation. I thought it necessary to intervene.”

The board members exchanged glances before nodding, motioning for you to continue. Your real presentation went off without a hitch, earning praise from the directors. But all you could think about was the man who had saved you from disaster.

After the meeting, you waited outside the conference room, nervously clutching your notes. As soon as Sunghoon stepped out, you followed him, finally mustering the courage to tap him on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, Mr. Park?”

He turned, his expression blank but expectant. “Yes?”

“I just… wanted to thank you for what you did back there,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

His reply was cold and clipped. “I didn’t do it for you. I did it because I don’t tolerate workplace sabotage. Don’t expect me to save you again.”

Then he walked away, leaving you speechless.

A normal person might’ve been offended. Maybe even angry. But you? You were utterly smitten. How many men these days are that serious and passionate about their work? And let’s be honest—how many of them looked like that?

From that moment on, Park Sunghoon was your ideal man: hardworking, principled, and impossibly handsome. Sure, the whole office thought you were crazy for crushing on him, but they didn’t see what you see.

And as you stood there, watching him from across the room, you couldn’t help but wonder what he else he had underneath that surface.

A week after that little encounter with your coworkers, fate seemed to step in when you were assigned to lead a project—with none other than Mr. Park as your supervisor. Coincidence? You didn’t think so.

Now, as you sat in his office, he was going on about the plans and blueprints for the project. But you? You weren’t paying much attention. Your chin rested on your hands as you stared at him, absolutely transfixed.

“The peak must be at—Ms. Y/N, are you even listening?”

You blinked, snapping out of your trance. “Of course I am,” you replied with a bright, innocent smile.

He hummed, unconvinced. “Alright, then. How do you feel about placing it on Downtown Avenue?”

You nodded immediately. “Sounds great.”

His sharp gaze bore into you as he placed his pen down. “Interesting answer,” he mused, leaning forward until your faces were so close they nearly touched. “I never mentioned Downtown Avenue.”

Your eyes widened, and you quickly leaned back in your chair, flustered. Heat rose to your cheeks as you scrambled to regain composure. “I—I’m sorry, Mr. Park. Please continue. I’m listening now.”

He didn’t look convinced but leaned back into his chair, eyes narrowing slightly. “Alright.”

For all his calm professionalism, Sunghoon couldn’t quite figure you out. Sure, you were talented—he couldn’t deny that. But you were also incredibly dishonest, something he’d picked up on a month ago.

From the moment you first met, he could feel your gaze on him, as if you had a personal vendetta. He figured you hated him for how blunt he’d been during that initial meeting. But as time passed, he realized it was the exact opposite.

The revelation had come during a lunch break with the other department heads.

“What about you, Mr. Park?” one of them asked, smirking. “Is there a special lady waiting for you at home?”

Sunghoon raised a brow, finishing a bite of his food before setting his utensils down. “No, I live alone.”

The man hummed, and the others chuckled knowingly. Then, one of them leaned forward. “What about Ms. Y/N?”

At that, Sunghoon froze. “Excuse me?” he asked, voice cold.

The man chuckled nervously, straightening up. “Well, everyone knows how much she’s into you. Why don’t you give her a chance?”

The words threw Sunghoon off completely. “How much she’s into me?” he repeated, utterly confused. “Why would she be?”

For the first time in a long while, Sunghoon felt genuinely flustered. The idea that you might like him had never crossed his mind. And once the seed was planted, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

His first instinct was to let you down easy. He’d been pursued before and thought it best to nip things in the bud. But when it came to you, things didn’t go as planned. Every time he tried to confront you, the words just wouldn’t come out.

In his frustration, he turned to Jaeyun, the office gossip king.

“Mr. Sim,” Sunghoon began, his voice strained. “Just tell me already.”

Jaeyun turned away, arms crossed. “I’m not spilling Y/N’s secrets.”

Sunghoon’s patience was wearing thin. “I’ll give you my year-end bonus.”

Jaeyun’s head whipped around, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Deal. Yes, she’s interested in you, but not enough to ask you out.”

Sunghoon raised a brow. “What do you mean, ‘not enough’? Are you saying I’m not worth asking out?”

Jaeyun held his hands up defensively. “No, no, she’s just focused on her career right now. Don’t take it personally.”

But Sunghoon did take it personally. The idea of someone liking him and not acting on it? It didn’t sit well with him. His pride was bruised.

From then on, he started coaxing you, trying to provoke you into asking him out. At office dinners, he’d sit near you, only for you to switch tables. In meetings, you avoided eye contact as if it were a matter of life and death. It was infuriating.

And now, as he explained the project, you sat across from him, staring at him like he was the center of your universe. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Ms. Y/N,” he said abruptly.

“Hm?” you hummed, snapping back to attention.

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes scrutinizing you. “Have you heard the latest office gossip?”

You tilted your head, confused. “I don’t think so, sir. But what does that—”

“I heard the women in the office are all over our new hire, Mr. Kim,” he interrupted. “Are you one of them?”

Your brow furrowed, suspicious of his sudden interest. “Well, I haven’t had the chance to speak to Mr. Kim yet, so—”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” he groaned, rubbing his temples. “I know you’re interested in me.”

Your eyes widened at his bluntness, but instead of denying it, you relaxed. “Yes, that’s right.”

His jaw tightened. “Then why haven’t you said anything? You lack initiative—”

You cut him off, staring at him dead in the eye. “Are you interested in me, Mr. Park?”

The question caught him off guard. His ears turned red as he replied, “No, I’m not.”

“Then why would I ask you out?” you shot back, your tone calm and collected.

He was stunned into silence. Since when did you have the upper hand in this conversation?

“Because it would allow you to get over me quicker,” he said, straightening his tie.

You stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter.

“What’s so funny?” he demanded, his pride wounded.

“You think too highly of yourself, Mr. Park,” you said, standing up. “Did you think I’d beg for you? My work is more important than any man—even you.”

With that, you turned and walked out of his office, leaving him frozen in place.

For the first time, Park Sunghoon felt like he’d underestimated someone. But one thing was certain: he wasn’t going to let you off that easily.

In the days following your conversation with Sunghoon, you noticed a subtle shift in his behavior. The once-distant supervisor now seemed to find reasons to linger near your workspace, his presence a constant, albeit silent, companion. It was almost endearing, watching him struggle with the unfamiliar territory of being put in his place.

Today, his strategy appeared to involve hovering nearby, perhaps hoping you’d initiate a conversation. His restlessness was overwhelming. Should he apologize? But that would require him to make the first move, a notion that likely clashed with his pride.

Seeking guidance, Sunghoon found himself seated across from Jaeyun at an upscale restaurant—a setting procured through the promise of an expensive dinner. Jaeyun, the holder of all office gossip, knew how to drive a bargain.

“Alright, talk. Has she mentioned anything?” Sunghoon inquired, his impatience barely concealed.

Jaeyun took a deliberate sip of his wine before responding. “Nope, not a word.”

Sunghoon’s frustration was evident. “Nothing? Are you sure?”

Jaeyun nodded, his gaze drifting to the gorgeous night view outside. “I swear. I mean, she’s been busy lately. Extremely busy.”

Sunghoon’s curiosity was piqued. “Explain, Mr. Sim.”

“Please call me Jaeyun, we’re not at work.” Jaeyun said.

Sunghoon gulped never being informal before. “Okay…. Jaeyun— please elaborate.”

Setting his utensils down, Jaeyun sighed. “Well, besides the project you two are working on, she also has financial responsibilities concerning her family, especially her younger brother.”

Sunghoon listened intently.

“She’s been working overtime to gather extra funds for his tuition. I heard he’s exceptionally talented in the entertainment field, but their family isn’t wealthy enough to cover the expenses.”

Sunghoon absorbed the information, No he didn’t understand. Sunghoon has been fortunate his whole life but he was open to learning. He sat there contemplating his next move.

Jaeyun’s voice broke through his thoughts. “What’s all this for anyway? Do you like her?”

Sunghoon scoffed. “Why would you think that?”

Jaeyun smirked. “Who goes this far to reject a woman?”

Sunghoon pondered the remark. Perhaps you had made more of an impression on him than he cared to admit. Interest? Maybe.

“Okay, how should I approach this? What does she like? Purses? Jewelry?”

Jaeyun chuckled. “Wait, you’re serious? Oh man, you really have no idea…”

Sunghoon remained silent, a faint blush coloring his ears and face.

“Just be normal, Show her you care.” Jaeyun observed Sunghoon’s puzzled expression. “If you really need to buy her something, get her some food. She enjoys a good meal.”

Now that was something Sunghoon could manage. If he was going to reach out to you, a thoughtful gesture like sharing a meal might be the perfect starting point.

Sunghoon wanted to do something nice for you. A nice thought quickly turned into an overbearing gesture.

One day, you found a paper bag in your office. Inside were sweets from the bakery just a few minutes away from the building. Even though they weren’t your favorite, you appreciated the gesture and ate them. Sunghoon saw you smile through your office blinds a safe distance away and felt happy. He quickly looked around to make sure no one noticed and then walked away.

After that, he started leaving more and more food in your office. It became overwhelming. Today, you walked in and saw so much food that it startled you. You had figured out it was Sunghoon; he wasn’t very sneaky, especially after you caught him leaving your office last week.

This was too much. How could you eat all this? You sighed, closed your office door, and walked to Sunghoon’s office. You knocked.

“Come in,” he said.

You entered, giving him a sharp look. He stood up, adjusting his suit.

“Ms. Y/N?” he asked, looking confused.

“Mr. Park, how much longer are you going to leave all that food in my office?”

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

You crossed your arms. “Did you really think I could eat all that in one sitting?”

He gulped, running a hand through his hair.

“And do you even know what foods I like? What if I was allergic to some of them?”

He scoffed walking over to you slowly. “What do you like then? What are you allergic to?” He was now very close.

“Can’t hate a man you haven’t given a chance, don’t you think?”

Your face turned red. You were stunned by his bluntness. “What are you talking about?”

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked.

You tried to keep your composure. “I don’t have plans, but—”

“Okay, I’ll be waiting for you after work then.”

You didn’t believe him at first. You’ve met many arrogant men who talk big, so you assumed he was the same.

After a seemingly long task, you finally finished your job, clocking out. You exited the building and saw him leaning on his car, arms crossed with his eyebrows furrowed like always. When he saw you, his eyes softened. He gave you a small smile and opened the passenger door.

This was new, but you went along, got in the car, and he closed the door behind you. You didn’t see it but, He checked his hair in his phone’s reflection before getting in.

As he drove, you admired the city view. The lights of the night never got old to you. But sooner than later curiosity got the better of you. “Where are we going?”

He glanced at you through the mirror before focusing back on the road. “Dinner at ‘The Villa.’”

Your eyes widened. “Are you serious? That place is expensive and fancy.”

He nodded. “I thought you’d enjoy it.”

You sighed. You could see he was trying, but fancy restaurants weren’t your thing. An idea popped into your head. “Turn here Mr. Park, I know a place we can go.”

He looked at you, puzzled, but followed your directions. You guided him to a small restaurant. As you both got out, he seemed disappointed when you didn’t let him open the door for you but brushed it off.

He looked around, not seeing any fancy places. “Is this it? A grill?”

You turned to him with the prettiest smile he’d ever seen on you. “Yup! Come on.” You reached out your hand.

Usually, he wouldn’t choose a place like this, but with a smile like that, he’d follow you anywhere. He took your hand, and you both went inside.

Inside, the atmosphere was cozy and lively. The smell of grilled food filled the air. You found a table, and he awkwardly sat down, clearly out of his element.

A server came by, placing a small grill in the center of your table and bringing plates of raw meat and vegetables. Sunghoon looked confused.

You giggled. “It’s a DIY grill. We cook our own food here.”

He raised an eyebrow. “We… cook?”

You nodded, picking up a piece of meat with the tongs and placing it on the grill. It sizzled, and the aroma was mouth-watering.

He watched you, then hesitantly picked up the tongs. He tried to mimic your actions but fumbled, almost dropping the meat.

You laughed, reaching over to guide his hand. “Like this.”

As the evening went on, you both cooked, ate, and talked. Sunghoon shared stories about his upbringing, and you told him about your family. He was clumsy with the grill, burning some pieces and undercooking others, but you found it endearing.

At one point, he tried to flip a piece of meat and it flew off the grill, landing on the table. He looked mortified, but you burst into laughter.

“I’m sorry,” he said, chuckling. “I’m not used to this.”

You smiled. “It’s okay. It’s fun.”

By the end of the night, the initial awkwardness had faded.

After a delightful dinner at the grill, you and Sunghoon stepped outside, the cool night air brushing against your skin. The city lights twinkled in the distance, casting a soft glow over the streets. As you walked side by side, you noticed a small park nearby, its swings gently swaying in the breeze.

“How about a walk in the park?” you suggested, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

Sunghoon glanced at the swings, a hint of hesitation in his eyes. “I haven’t been on a swing in years,” he admitted, a slight chuckle escaping his lips.

“Well, tonight’s the perfect night to revisit childhood memories,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

With a resigned smile, he agreed, “Alright, lead the way.”

You both approached the swings, and you took a seat on one, motioning for him to join you. He hesitated for a moment, then sat beside you, his posture stiff and unsure.

“Just relax,” you encouraged, giving him a gentle push. “I got you.”

As the swing moved, Sunghoon’s expression softened, and a genuine smile appeared on his face. He began to swing higher, his laughter blending with the night air.

“See? It’s fun,” you said, your voice filled with joy.

He nodded, his eyes meeting yours. “No, you’re the one making it fun Ms, Y/N.”

You both continued to swing, the world around you fading away. The simple act of swinging together brought a sense of closeness and comfort, a shared moment of happiness.

After a while, you slowed the swing and stood up. “Shall we continue our walk?”

“Of course,” he said, his voice soft.

As you walked through the park, you talked about everything and nothing—your dreams, your favorite books, the places you wanted to visit. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and with each step, you felt a deeper connection forming between you.

That night with Sunghoon felt like it was straight out of a dream—a memory you knew would replay in your mind over and over again. He wasn’t at all what you’d expected. Sure, he had an air of arrogance, and his confidence sometimes teetered on egotistical, but once you broke through that wall, he was entirely different. Genuine. Kind. Charming in a way that made you question how you’d ever misjudged him.

You’d never felt this kind of excitement in a long time, this sense of longing and hope for something more. A relationship. He hadn’t officially asked you out yet, but it felt inevitable. You’d already started imagining how it might all unfold.

But that was just wishful thinking.

The next day, as you walked into the office, you couldn’t ignore the way whispers followed you down the hallway. People stealing glances at you, hurriedly looking away when you caught their eye. At first, you brushed it off. Office gossip was nothing new. Maybe someone had spilled coffee on their boss again.

But the moment you saw your phone light up with notifications—hundreds of them—you realized you were the center of the latest spectacle.

It wasn’t just office chatter. It was everywhere. Tabloids, social media, magazines, blogs. Photos of you and Sunghoon—laughing together, standing too close, looking too comfortable. But that wasn’t the worst part. The headlines? They were brutal.

“Is Riki Nishimura’s Older Sister Using Park Sunghoon for Fame?”

“Dating Rumors Could Derail His Career!”

“How Will This Affect HER Younger Brother’s Future?”

Your stomach churned as you scrolled. At first, you laughed bitterly, brushing it off as ridiculous speculation. But then, you saw the headline about your brother. Your little brother, who had worked so hard to get where he was. Your heart sank.

If they wanted to drag your name through the mud, fine. But dragging your family into it? Threatening Riki’s career? That crossed a line.

You paced the floor of your office, wracking your brain for a solution. There was only one answer. It wasn’t fair, but it was the only way. You and Sunghoon… this thing between you—it couldn’t happen. Not if it meant jeopardizing your brother’s future.

The tears came slowly at first, then all at once as you slumped into your chair, burying your face in your hands. You hadn’t even realized how much you’d come to cherish what you began to have with Sunghoon until now, as you were being forced to let it go.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon had no idea what was happening. He was in his office, practically glowing, still riding the high from the time you spent together. He couldn’t wait to see you.

On his break, he searched for you. The lounge. The meeting room. Even your office. But you were nowhere to be found.

Frustrated, he turned to his co-worker—and now trusted friend—Jaeyun.

“Jaeyun, have you seen Y/N?” he asked, his tone casual, but his impatience obvious.

Jaeyun’s expression fell, pity flashing in his eyes. “Y/N? She… she put in for a two-week leave this morning. I figured you knew.”

Sunghoon’s heart sank. “What? Why? What happened?”

Jaeyun gave him a pointed look. “You haven’t seen the news, have you?”

Frowning, Sunghoon pulled out his phone, quickly typing in his name. The search results made his breath hitch. Article after article, photos, speculation, your name tied to his, your family dragged into the chaos.

Then he saw the headline about your brother. His grip on the phone tightened. He knew what you were thinking. Knew why you’d disappeared. And there was no way he was going to let this spiral any further.

Without a second thought, he called your number. Once. Twice. Three times. Each attempt went to voicemail.

Panic bubbled in his chest. He couldn’t let you do this—not alone, not to yourself, not to your relationship.

He barked an order to his assistant to start taking down the articles, to figure out who was behind this mess. But first, he needed to find you.

And when he did, he wasn’t going to let you push him away.

The days felt endless as you holed up in your apartment, your only companions being guilt and loneliness. It had been a week since you requested a two-week leave, and in that time, you hadn’t dared step foot outside. The weight of the news, the whispers, and the consequences of your choices pressed down on you like a heavy blanket.

The day you left the office, you called Riki, your voice trembling as you asked if he was okay. He reassured you that everything was fine—for now. His management had advised him to lay low until the rumors blew over. He didn’t sound angry, but that almost made it worse. You felt like you’d dragged him into your mess, and the guilt ate away at you.

Since then, you’d spent most of your time thinking about Sunghoon. Replaying the moments you’d shared, wondering how he felt, and most of all, worrying about what you’d say to him when you eventually faced him again. Did he care that much? Or had this all been one-sided? These questions swirled in your mind endlessly as you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Desperate to drown out your thoughts, you remembered the new bar that had recently opened near your apartment. Without much thought, you dragged yourself out of bed, threw on some clothes, and headed out.

The bar was dimly lit, buzzing with quiet conversations and the occasional burst of laughter. You didn’t waste any time. One drink turned into two, then three, then four. You lost count after that, the haze of alcohol dulling your thoughts until you didn’t feel much of anything. Eventually, your body gave in, and you slumped over, unconscious.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon was unraveling.

It had been a week since he last saw you, and the distance was driving him insane. Every attempt to find you ended in failure. He didn’t know where you lived, your favorite places, or even how to contact your family. It frustrated him to no end, and it hurt even more to think that you might be avoiding him.

Every evening, he found himself at the small grill you both went to, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Tonight was no different. He stood outside the familiar spot, his hands shoved into his coat pockets as he tried to stave off the cold.

The buzz of his phone broke through his thoughts, and his heart leapt when he saw your name on the screen. He fumbled to answer, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Y/N? Where are you—”

“Are you friends with the owner of this phone?” a deep, unfamiliar voice interrupted.

Sunghoon blinked, pulling the phone away to confirm it was your number on the display. Confusion settled in. “Uh, yeah? Who is this? Why do you have her phone?”

“No worries,” the man replied. “She’s passed out in my bar. I found her phone unlocked and figured I’d call someone. Can you come pick her up?”

Sunghoon’s heart dropped. “Where is she?”

The man gave him the location, and Sunghoon didn’t hesitate. He bolted to his car and sped through the city, his mind racing with questions. Were you okay? Why were you at a bar alone this late?

When he arrived, he barely parked the car before running inside. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on you. Slumped over the bar, your head resting on your arms, you looked so vulnerable. Relief and worry collided in his chest as he approached you.

“You’re Hoon, right?” the bartender asked, eyeing him curiously.

Sunghoon blinked in confusion before realizing the name was probably how you saved his contact. He smiled faintly, nodding. “Yeah, that’s me.”

The bartender nodded and stepped away, leaving Sunghoon to focus on you. His chest tightened when he saw how puffy your eyes were, evidence of the tears you’d cried before drinking yourself into this state.

He crouched beside you, placing a gentle hand on your back. “Y/N… can you walk?”

Your eyes fluttered open, blurry and unfocused as they locked with his. For a moment, you looked like you were seeing a ghost.

“Hoon?” you slurred softly, your voice tinged with disbelief.

He sighed in relief. “Yeah, it’s me. Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

But when you didn’t move, he frowned. You were too out of it to help him. He checked your phone, hoping for some clue about where to take you, but it was locked.

He hesitated. Taking you to his place didn’t feel right, but with no other options and the clock striking midnight, he made a decision.

“You’ll understand, right?” he murmured to himself, draping his coat over your shoulders. He carefully helped you to your feet, guiding you out of the bar and into his car.

The drive to his penthouse was quiet, save for your soft breathing. He couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances at you, the city lights illuminating your face in a way that made his chest ache. Even like this, you were beautiful.

When they arrived, getting you upstairs was a challenge. You slumped against him, muttering incoherently and occasionally whining about how tired you were. By the time he managed to unlock his door and get you inside, he was exhausted.

He guided you to his bedroom, laying you down gently on the bed. As he adjusted his coat on your shoulders, he heard you mumble something. When he turned back, his face turned bright red.

“Why is it so hot?” you grumbled, fumbling with the buttons of your shirt.

“Woah, hey—don’t do that!” he yelped, grabbing your hands to stop you. “Just… just wait, I’ll turn on the AC!”

He backed away, keeping a wary eye on you as he adjusted the thermostat. When he returned, he brought a glass of water, helping you sit up to drink. “There, that’s better, hm?”

You sighed, lying back down with a soft hum of approval.

Sunghoon turned to leave, planning to sleep on the couch, but you grabbed his wrist, your eyes wide and pleading. “Hoon… stay. Please?”

His heart clenched. How could he ever say no to you?

“Alright,” he whispered, circling the bed and lying down on the other side, facing the ceiling. He felt awkward, unsure of what to do, but within moments, you shifted closer, resting your head on his chest.

He froze, his heart pounding as he felt your steady breaths against him. Slowly, he relaxed, his hand coming up to stroke your hair.

“Goodnight,” he murmured softly, his eyes fluttering shut as sleep finally claimed him.

The glow of the sun streamed through the curtains, forcing you to stir awake. The dull throbbing in your head hit as soon as you sat up, and you winced, bringing a hand to your temple.

Blinking, you took in your surroundings. The room was unfamiliar—sleek, modern, and definitely not your own. Panic began to rise in your chest as you tried to piece together the events of the previous night. You remembered the bar, the drinks, and then… nothing.

Your eyes widened as you looked down at yourself, relieved to find you were still in your clothes. But then you spotted the figure lying beside you, their back turned to you.

Oh no.

You gasped, clutching the pillow you’d been sleeping on, and without thinking, you began smacking the man’s back with it in a panic. “Who are you?! What is this?! Did we—?!”

The man bolted awake, flinching and shielding himself with his arms. “Hey! Hey! Stop!” he shouted, scrambling backward until he fell off the bed with a loud thud.

You froze mid-swing, the familiar voice cutting through your panic. Slowly, you leaned over the edge of the bed, clutching the pillow tightly.

“Sunghoon?” you whispered, your eyes wide.

He was sprawled on the floor, wincing as he rubbed the back of his head. His legs were awkwardly bent in the air, and he looked up at you with an awkward, sheepish smile. “Uh, hi.”

You let out a deep breath, sitting back on the bed. “Oh my god,” you muttered, dragging your hands down your face.

Sunghoon quickly got up, brushing himself off as he looked at you with a mix of concern and embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I should’ve explained sooner. We didn’t… y’know, do anything.”

Your cheeks burned as you glanced up at him. “Are you sure?”

His ears turned bright pink as he nodded fervently. “Yes! I swear. You passed out at the bar, and I didn’t know where you lived, so I brought you here. That’s it, I promise.”

You relaxed slightly, but the tension in the room remained heavy. The silence that followed was suffocating, neither of you knowing what to say.

Finally, you broke it, your voice trembling. “Sunghoon… our relationship has to end here.”

His head snapped toward you, his eyes wide with disbelief. “What? Why?”

You avoided his gaze, staring at the sheets instead. “I’m sure you’ve seen the news. They’re dragging my brother into this, and I can’t let that happen. I can’t risk his career for my selfish desires.”

“Y/N—“

“What we had was nice,” you interrupted, your voice cracking slightly. “But it’s better for everyone if we stop seeing each other.”

He stepped closer, his brows furrowed in frustration. “You should check the tabloids again.”

You froze, your heart pounding. “What do you mean?”

Sunghoon grabbed his phone from the nightstand, quickly pulling up the articles before handing it to you. You hesitated, but as you scrolled, your breath caught.

The scandal was gone. There were no articles tearing you apart, no headlines about your brother being caught up in rumors. Instead, there were positive comments, even a few articles praising the supposed romance.

“How… how did this happen?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sunghoon sighed softly, sitting down beside you. His voice was gentle but firm. “I made it happen. I wasn’t going to let them ruin your life, or your brother’s, over something like this.”

You turned to look at him, his face close to yours. His expression was so sincere, so full of quiet determination, that it made your chest ache.

“Why would you do that?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“Because I care about you,” he said simply. “And I’m not giving up on us that easily.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. Your eyes locked, and in that moment, all the fear, doubt, and guilt melted away.

Without thinking, you leaned in, your lips brushing his tentatively. Sunghoon froze for a split second before responding, his hand cupping your cheek as he deepened the kiss. It was soft and slow at first, filled with all the emotions neither of you had been able to express.

But soon, the kiss grew more passionate, more desperate, as if you were both trying to make up for all the lost time and the moments you almost didn’t have. His other hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer, while your fingers tangled in his hair.

Soft sighs fell from the both of you as he laid you back on the bed. His hand exploring your body softly and slowly.

You took the chance to snake your hands below his shirt, scratching his back slightly making him shutter against you.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

“Sunghoon,” you whispered, your voice shaky but certain. “Thank you.”

He smiled softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Anything for you.”

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

“Hoon, get up,” you said softly, glancing down at Sunghoon, who was sprawled across your chest like he had no intention of moving.

“Mm,” he hummed lazily, burying his face into you as if that would make you forget about work entirely.

You let out a soft laugh, stroking his hair absentmindedly. The moment your fingers ran through his dark locks, you realized you’d made a mistake—he let out a content sigh and snuggled in closer, clearly sinking even deeper into his sleepy state.

“We have to go to work,” you said, this time playfully, though your hands still gently tangled in his hair.

“I don’t want to,” he mumbled, his pout evident even though his face was tucked against you. God, he was so cute.

You smiled softly, shaking your head. “Well, we have responsibilities we can’t ignore, so you need to get up, Hoon.”

When he didn’t respond, you rolled your eyes, deciding to switch tactics. “If you get up, I’ll give you a reward,” you said, your tone light but teasing.

That did it. His head immediately shot up, his sleepy eyes now wide with interest. “What kind of reward?” he asked, a mischievous smile spreading across his face.

You smirked, leaning back slightly as his head rested on your chest, his eyes glinting with curiosity. “You’ll find out if you get up,” you teased, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his face.

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but not entirely convinced. “That’s suspicious,” he murmured, though the corner of his lips quirked into a small smile. “Is it worth it?”

“More than worth it,” you said confidently, trying to stifle a laugh. “But you’re never going to know if you keep laying there.”

He groaned dramatically, still clinging to you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the bed. “You’re not making this easy, you know.”

“Well, you’re the one being stubborn,” you replied, gently pushing at his shoulder, though he didn’t budge.

Then, in one swift motion, he propped himself up on his elbows, his face dangerously close to yours. “Okay,” he said, his voice low and playful. “I’m up. Where’s my reward?”

Your breath hitched slightly at the sudden proximity, his teasing grin making your heart race. “Patience,” you said, trying to keep your composure. “You’re not fully up yet. Get ready for work first.”

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Hmm, that wasn’t part of the deal.”

“It’s implied,” you countered, laughing softly as you tried to push him off the bed.

But instead of moving, Sunghoon leaned even closer, his warm breath fanning over your cheeks. “I think I deserve at least a preview,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours ever so slightly.

Your heart skipped a beat as you tried to glare at him, but it was impossible when his mischievous grin was so disarming. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, but before you could say anything else, he closed the distance, capturing your lips in a soft but lingering kiss.

It started playful, his lips tugging into a smile against yours, but quickly turned deeper, his hand cupping the side of your face as he kissed you with a tenderness that made your heart skip. He pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips, “Best reward ever.”

You rolled your eyes, still breathless. “Now get up, Hoon. Or that'll be the last one you'll ever get.”

He laughed, finally pulling himself out of bed. “Fine, fine. You’re the boss in this house.”

He disappeared into the bathroom, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, your cheeks warm as you touched your lips. Sunghoon always had a way of turning your mornings into something unforgettable.

[angelsrcute]

⌗ THEM FUCKING THEIR DARLING AT A MOVIE THEATER. 𐙚˙⋆.˚

(´∀｀*)ε｀　) ౨ৎ N–sfw content !! ; Dom!Alhaitham, Ayato, Tartaglia + Sub!F!Reader ➜ cws: Exhibitionism (Movie theatre), fingering(Tartaglia + Alhaitham), riding(Ayato), clit stimulation, raw + unprotected sex, almost getting caught, praising, dirty talk(Tartaglia). ᡴꪫ‎

꒰ † ੭ — For the event! + I'm sorry this took so long!! but I hope you'll like it.（×_×；） req by @vieannee

⌗ ALHAITHAM would shove his fingers in your cunt, your face all red with embarrassment as you try to bite back moans. Well, he really isn't a fan of romance movies, it's just not his cup of tea but he'd do anything for his darling. While watching the movie, he didn't expect a sex scene but he suddenly got turned on by the noises. So now he's here, a hand on your mouth so that the others can't hear his sweet little lover. He's definitely enjoying this too! Two of his fingers stretching your cunt out while his other hand rubs slow circles on your puffy clit, I mean, if someone really paid any attention, they'd hear the sinful noises coming from the back. Guess they're really enjoying the movie, huh?

“C’mon now, you wouldn't want others to know what we're doing here, do you? I'll fuck you properly when we get back home, so be a good girl for now.”

⌗ AYATO would book a whole ass theatre for you, having you sit on his lap while he plays with your hair, the sex scene in the movie caught him off guard, he got a boner too! Well, no one is here anyway, you riding him wouldn't hurt anyone, the sound of skin slapping filling up the room along with your mewls. His hands guiding your body up and down, groaning at how good your cunt feels, praising you. The guard coming inside the theatre and asking if everything's alright made him stop his movements, hands covering your mouth as he acts normal. His voice so calm, like he wasn't just fucking you.

“Ah yes, do not mind us, everything's fine, my lover feels a bit under the weather, I'm taking care of her, you see.”

⌗ TARTAGLIA would just tease you throughout the movie, commenting on how cute you look while blushing during some romantic scenes. He didn't know this movie had a sex scene! Well now he's blushing as his eyes flicker to you. Gloved hands covering your mouth to cover your noises as he scissors your cunt open with his fingers, hitting your sweet spot that made your eyes roll back. Whispering dirty words to your ear.

“Hey is it me or the sounds are too loud, like it's happening in this room” “Dunno man, I don't hear anything, you're thinking too much.”

Poor dudes, they didn't know there was a live show going on behind them, only if they turned their heads!

Taglist: @blueberrisdove

[cloudyluun]

Serendipity & Stumbles

Summary: Based on this request. You never expected to keep bumping into Harry Styles, single dad and bookstore owner, but fate—and your kids—had other plans. From coffee shop disasters to rainy-night rescues, your lives keep tangling together, no matter how much you try to resist. But when two very determined little matchmakers step in, running might not be an option anymore.

Slow-burn, single-parent chaos, meddling kids, and Harry in full-on dad mode? Yeah, you’re in trouble.

A/N: I dragged this slow burn out on purpose. I made you suffer. And honestly? I’d do it again. Thanks for sticking around, even when you wanted to scream at them to just kiss already. This isn't proofread, sorryyy

Word Count: 8,4k

Warnings:

Single parent struggles (exhaustion, self-doubt, balancing work & motherhood)

Mentions of past unhealthy relationships (nothing graphic, but allusions to emotional difficulty & fear of attachment)

Slow-burn romance (painfully slow at times, because I like to make you suffer before the payoff 😌)

Lots of angst, mutual pining, and missed opportunities before they actually get their shit together

Fluff so sweet it might rot your teeth

Smut!!

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wrapped around you the moment you stepped inside the bookstore café, the warmth of it a stark contrast to the biting chill outside. You shifted your bag higher on your shoulder, guiding Lily toward an empty table near the window, where golden afternoon light streamed in.

She clutched her book to her chest, her small fingers curling around the edges of the worn cover like it was something precious. “Can I get a hot chocolate, Mummy?” she asked, peering up at you with wide eyes.

You smiled, smoothing down the flyaway curls at her temple. “Of course, love. Let’s get settled first, yeah?”

Balancing motherhood and work had turned you into an expert multitasker—or at least someone who tried very hard to be. You pulled out your laptop as Lily slid into the chair opposite you, already flipping through the pages of her book. The café was busy but cozy, the low hum of conversations blending with the clinking of mugs and the occasional flutter of a turned page.

This bookstore had quickly become your sanctuary—somewhere Lily could sink into stories while you answered emails or proofread articles. It was one of the few places where you could steal a moment of peace.

At least, until peace became a fleeting thing.

One second, Lily was happily stirring her hot chocolate, her lips moving as she silently read. The next, her elbow knocked against the cup, and the dark liquid sloshed over the rim, spilling onto her dress.

She froze.

You saw the panic flicker across her face before the wobble in her lip began.

“Oh, baby, it’s okay,” you soothed, immediately reaching for the napkins. “We’ll clean it up.”

But her breath hitched, and her eyes grew glassy, the embarrassment of it all outweighing any comfort you could offer. You could see it coming—the slow build to a meltdown in the middle of a crowded café.

And then, a voice—warm, steady.

“Need some help?”

You looked up.

The man standing beside your table held out a stack of napkins, his green eyes bright with amusement but softened by something kinder. His dark curls were pushed back from his face, a few strands stubbornly falling forward. There was a quiet confidence in the way he carried himself, dressed in a sweater that hugged his frame just right, sleeves pushed up to reveal inked skin.

Lily sniffled, her tiny hands twisting in the fabric of her stained dress.

Harry Styles.

You knew of him, in the way that people who lived in the same neighborhood knew of each other. The bookstore café was his, after all. You’d seen him before, in passing—restocking shelves, chatting with customers, sometimes with a little boy by his side. But you’d never spoken beyond polite nods and murmured thank-yous.

You hesitated before taking the napkins, flashing a quick, grateful smile. “Thank you. She’s just—”

“Having a rough go of it,” he finished, nodding. “Understandable. Hot chocolate tragedies are serious business.”

Lily blinked up at him, her lip still wobbling but her sniffles slowing.

Harry crouched beside her, a small smile playing at his lips. “I’ve got a spare jumper in the back—belongs to my son. I can grab it for you, if you’d like.”

Lily glanced at you for reassurance. You squeezed her small hand before nodding. “That’s very kind of you.”

“No trouble at all,” he said before disappearing into the back of the shop.

Lily fidgeted in her chair, picking at the hem of her dress. “I didn’t mean to spill,” she murmured.

“I know, sweetheart,” you said softly. “It was just an accident.”

Before you could say more, Harry returned, holding out a navy-blue sweater. It was slightly oversized, well-loved, the sleeves a little worn at the cuffs.

“Here we go,” he said, handing it to Lily. “Theo—my son—outgrows things faster than I can keep up with, so we always have extras.”

Lily took it, her small fingers brushing against the soft fabric. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Harry smiled, standing back up to his full height. His eyes flicked to you, something unreadable in his gaze. “No need to give it back. Consider it a gift from one hot chocolate lover to another.”

A beat of quiet passed between you, something unspoken lingering in the air.

You cleared your throat, breaking the moment. “That’s really thoughtful of you.”

He shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Part of the job.”

Lily tugged the sweater over her dress, the sleeves hanging past her fingers. You expected her to protest, but instead, she let out a small giggle, wiggling her arms. “It’s soft.”

Harry grinned. “Glad you approve.”

You exhaled, finally allowing the tension in your shoulders to ease. “Well, thank you again. We really appreciate it.”

“Anytime,” he said, giving a small nod before turning back toward the counter.

You watched him go, your fingers absently tapping against your coffee cup.

You weren’t sure why, but something about the moment stuck with you longer than it should have.

Maybe it was the ease of it, the way Harry had stepped in without hesitation, like it was second nature for him to help. Maybe it was the way he spoke to Lily—not as if she were just a child, but like her feelings mattered. Or maybe it was the simple fact that for the first time in a long while, someone had made your chaotic day feel just a little bit lighter.

You thought about it again a few days later as you sat on a bench at the park, the cool afternoon air crisp against your skin. Lily was somewhere nearby, her laughter carrying on the breeze, but your eyes were glued to the screen of your laptop, fingers tapping against the keyboard as you proofread an article on deadline.

“Just five more minutes, baby,” you murmured absently, knowing she probably wasn’t even listening.

It was one of those afternoons where time felt both endless and fleeting. The playground was buzzing with energy—kids climbing, running, the occasional squeal of excitement cutting through the air. You weren’t really paying attention, though, too caught up in work, too focused on making sure the words in front of you made sense.

A few benches away, Harry was doing much of the same.

Phone in hand, he paced a few steps back and forth, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the mobile to his ear. His brows were slightly furrowed, lips pressed together in that concentrated way people had when they were trying to remain patient on a frustrating call.

Neither of you noticed at first.

Neither of you saw them.

Lily and Theo.

Two tiny forces of nature, colliding without you even realizing it.

It wasn’t until a burst of laughter pulled your focus that you finally looked up.

Your gaze landed on Lily first, standing in the middle of the grass, her hands on her hips, head tilted back in giggles. Across from her, a little boy—a year or so older, dark curls peeking out from beneath a beanie—was laughing just as hard.

They were playing together.

You blinked, momentarily thrown, scanning the area for whoever the child belonged to.

Harry’s voice was still a low murmur as he spoke into the phone, but his eyes had landed on the same scene. His expression softened instantly, the stress from his call momentarily forgotten.

Theo.

You recognized the sweater immediately—the sweater. The same one Harry had given Lily after the hot chocolate incident. It was still too big on her, the sleeves hanging past her fingers, but that wasn’t stopping her from flapping her arms dramatically while Theo doubled over laughing.

It was oddly fascinating, watching them.

Lily, typically so shy around new kids, was standing toe-to-toe with Theo, chattering animatedly, completely unbothered by the fact that they’d only just met. Theo, for his part, looked just as amused, his eyes bright with mischief, like he’d already decided they were going to be best friends.

Your lips twitched into an involuntary smile.

It was… sweet.

Something in your periphery shifted, and you realized Harry was looking at you now.

There was a moment—an unspoken, quiet kind of moment—where neither of you said anything. Just sat there, watching your kids become friends without effort, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Harry’s phone was still at his ear, but whatever conversation he was having was clearly secondary now. He shook his head slightly, amused, before rubbing a hand along his jaw, his own smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Without thinking, you spoke.

“Well, this is convenient.”

Harry huffed a laugh, finally ending his call before slipping the phone into his pocket. “Guess they’re making the decisions for us now.”

You nodded toward them. “I take it Theo is the mastermind behind this plan?”

He smirked. “Oh, definitely. He’s got a talent for roping people into whatever ridiculous scheme he’s come up with.”

Lily’s laughter rang out again as Theo dramatically flopped onto the grass, pretending to faint over something she’d said.

You shook your head fondly. “I think Lily might have just met her match.”

“Looks that way,” Harry agreed, leaning back against the bench, his posture relaxed but his gaze still lingering on his son.

You let the silence stretch between you, comfortable in a way you didn’t expect.

It was a strange thing, this… whatever this was.

Before the café, Harry had been nothing more than a familiar face. A neighbor, a bookstore owner, someone you exchanged brief smiles with but never really knew.

Now, though—now, he was sitting next to you, watching your kids become fast friends, and somehow it didn’t feel like a coincidence at all.

Just as you were about to say something else, Lily ran up to you, breathless and grinning. “Mummy! Theo says he has a dog!”

Harry chuckled, clearly predicting where this was going.

“Not just a dog,” Theo corrected, running up beside her. “A really big dog.”

Lily’s eyes went wide. “Can I meet him?”

Harry shot you a look, brows raised in amusement. “You alright with that?”

You hesitated, caught between the natural urge to say no to anything spontaneous—and the realization that, maybe, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to say yes.

After all… maybe there were worse things than a little serendipity.

That thought lingered in your mind long after the park playdate, long after Lily had chattered endlessly about Theo’s “really big dog” and how she was convinced they needed one just like him.

It was still there a week later, tugging at the edges of your thoughts as you walked into the parents' meeting at Lily’s school.

You weren’t particularly looking forward to it—these things were always a mix of too much small talk and too many emails you’d later forget to reply to—but you showed up, because that’s what you did. You juggled deadlines and grocery lists and bedtime routines, and you showed up.

Sliding into one of the chairs near the back of the classroom, you pulled out your notebook, half-listening as the teacher welcomed everyone and started discussing upcoming class activities. The words blurred a little, your mind already jumping to your to-do list for the rest of the day—until a familiar voice cut through the hum of conversation beside you.

“Didn’t peg you for the back-row type.”

Your head turned sharply.

Harry.

Seated next to you, clad in a well-fitted jacket over a soft-looking jumper, casually sprawled in his chair like he wasn’t completely throwing off your focus. His green eyes flickered with amusement as he drummed his fingers lightly against the desk.

You blinked, momentarily thrown. “I—what?”

His lips twitched. “Back row. Feels like the kind of seat you pick if you’re planning to sneak out early.”

You huffed a quiet laugh. “Right, because I’m clearly a rebel parent.”

Harry smirked, but before he could respond, the teacher started explaining the logistics of an upcoming field trip, and the room quieted.

You tried to focus—you really did—but awareness prickled at you, your body attuned to the fact that Harry was right next to you.

It didn’t help that every now and then, you’d catch him glancing your way when the teacher said something mildly ridiculous, his expression just amused enough to make it harder to keep a straight face.

Or that when the topic of chaperones came up, Theo’s name was read out right before Lily’s, the realization settling between you with an unspoken of course they’re in the same class.

And maybe—just maybe—you didn’t miss the way Harry muttered a quiet figures under his breath, a slight shake of his head that made you bite back a smile.

By the time the meeting wrapped up, the teacher dismissing everyone with a reminder to sign up for volunteer slots, you were already gathering your things, ready to slip out—when Harry turned to you.

“Fancy a coffee?”

You froze for half a second.

It was a simple question. Harmless. A casual offer between two parents who, apparently, kept running into each other.

But something about the way he said it—the way his voice dipped just slightly, the way his eyes stayed steady on yours—made it feel less casual.

You hesitated.

And Harry, ever perceptive, caught it immediately. His posture shifted, something careful settling into his expression, like he wasn’t quite sure whether to push or back off.

“I mean,” he added, lightening his tone, “it’s just down the road. No pressure. Could be a good excuse to talk about how we’ve accidentally ended up with kids who seem hell-bent on becoming best friends.”

You swallowed, gripping the strap of your bag a little tighter.

It was tempting. So tempting.

And maybe, once upon a time, you wouldn’t have thought twice about saying yes.

But you weren’t that person anymore. You’d learned to be cautious. To tread carefully when it came to things that had the potential to turn into more than just casual conversation.

And Harry—whether he realized it or not—felt like exactly that kind of thing.

So you smiled, polite but firm. “I appreciate the offer, but I should really get back to work.”

Harry didn’t miss a beat. Didn’t let disappointment show, though something unreadable flickered in his gaze before he nodded, easy and unbothered. “Fair enough. Another time, maybe.”

You hummed, noncommittal.

But as you turned to leave, your heart did this stupid, traitorous thing—this little lurch in your chest—because something in you already knew that this wouldn’t be the last time.

And, of course, you were right.

Because one week later, you were standing on the pavement, clutching Lily’s small hand, rain drenching through your coat as you tried—and failed—not to look as exhausted as you felt.

It had been a long day.

A really long day.

Your babysitter had canceled last minute, leaving you with no choice but to bring Lily along to your late-afternoon client meeting. She’d been good—so good—sitting quietly at the café table, coloring in the pages of her book while you discussed article revisions and deadline extensions. But by the time you stepped out into the dimly lit street, the sky had split open, rain coming down in relentless sheets, and you were both soaked before you even had the chance to open your umbrella.

You exhaled, pressing your palm against your forehead as you attempted to flag down a taxi. No luck.

“Mummy,” Lily whined, shivering beside you. “I’m cold.”

Your heart clenched. “I know, baby. I’m trying—”

A honk cut through the downpour.

You turned toward the sound just as a familiar black Range Rover slowed beside you, the driver’s window rolling down.

Harry.

His curls were a little messy, his face dimly lit by the dashboard lights, one hand gripping the steering wheel as he leaned slightly toward the open window. His brows knitted together the second he took you in.

“Are you seriously walking home in this?”

You blinked against the rain. “I don’t exactly have a choice, Harry.”

He scoffed, already reaching for the unlock button. “Get in.”

You hesitated.

Not because you didn’t want to—you were cold and exhausted, and Lily was on the verge of full-body shivers—but because the last thing you needed was to owe someone anything. To let someone in, even if only for a car ride home.

Harry must have noticed the reluctance on your face because his tone softened. “Come on. No agenda. Just two parents helping each other out.”

Before you could argue, the back door swung open.

“Mummy! Theo’s in here!” Lily’s delighted voice rang out, already scrambling into the seat beside him.

You turned sharply—traitor!—but Lily was grinning, the excitement of seeing her new best friend completely overriding any of your hesitation.

You sighed, defeated. “Guess we’re getting in the car.”

Harry smirked. “Guess you are.”

You climbed into the passenger seat, the warmth of the car immediately soothing your frozen limbs. Your coat dripped against the leather as you fastened your seatbelt, and when Harry reached into the back and wordlessly handed you a hoodie—probably Theo’s again—you swallowed past the tightness in your throat before accepting it.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.” He shifted the car into drive, glancing in the rearview mirror where the kids were already chatting excitedly. “Where to?”

You gave him your address, and he repeated it under his breath like he was committing it to memory.

The hum of the car filled the space between you for a moment, the rain drumming against the windshield. You were suddenly aware of how quiet it was in the front seat—how the easy banter you’d shared before wasn’t there now, replaced by something heavier.

“Long day?” Harry finally asked, his voice softer than before.

You exhaled. “You could say that.”

“I get it,” he murmured. “Some days just feel impossible.”

You turned to look at him, but his eyes stayed on the road, his fingers flexing against the steering wheel.

It would have been easy to nod and leave it at that.

But something about the way he said it—like he really did get it—made the words slip out before you could stop them.

“My babysitter bailed last minute,” you admitted. “Had to bring Lily to work with me. I know she didn’t mind, but it’s just… a lot, sometimes.”

Harry’s fingers tapped lightly against the wheel. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

A beat of silence.

Then—

“It’s just you and Lily, then?”

You hesitated. Not because it was a secret, but because it was one of those questions that carried weight, even if it was asked casually.

“Yeah,” you said finally. “Just us.”

Another pause. Then, quietly—

“Same. Just me and Theo.”

You glanced at him.

There was something different in his voice now, something laced with memory, something personal.

“What happened?” you asked gently.

He inhaled, long and slow. When he spoke, his voice was even, but you could hear the emotion beneath it.

“My wife—Theo’s mum—passed away a few years ago.”

Your chest tightened. “Harry, I—”

“You don’t have to say you’re sorry.” He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “It was… unexpected. One day we were planning holidays, the next, I was trying to figure out how to be a single dad.”

Your fingers curled into the sleeves of the hoodie.

You weren’t sure why, but something about hearing him say it—acknowledging it so openly, without dramatics, without self-pity—hit you harder than you expected.

“I left,” you admitted softly.

Harry turned, brow furrowing. “Left?”

You swallowed. “Lily’s dad. I left him.”

Understanding flickered in his gaze, but he didn’t say anything. Just waited.

You let out a slow breath, focusing on the rain streaking against the glass. “It wasn’t… good. I knew if I stayed, it would only get worse. So I left.” A pause. “For her. For Lily.”

Harry didn’t ask for details. Didn’t push.

He just nodded, like that was enough. Like he understood more than he was saying.

The air in the car was heavier now, but not uncomfortable. It wasn’t pity, wasn’t awkward sympathy. It was just two people, two parents, who had both lost something. Who were still finding their way forward.

When the car finally pulled up in front of your building, you turned to him, fingers hovering over the door handle.

“Thank you,” you said, meaning it more than you expected.

Harry met your gaze, something steady and unreadable in his expression. “Anytime.”

And as you climbed out, leading Lily inside, you realized that maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t the last time, either.

And again, you were right.

Because the universe—or fate, or whatever force kept weaving Harry into your life—wasn’t quite done with you yet.

It started as a normal evening. A school event—one of those midwinter, PTA-sponsored gatherings where the kids were running on pure sugar-fueled excitement, and the parents were running on nothing but caffeine and obligation.

You had barely stepped inside the decorated gymnasium when Lily had spotted Theo, the two of them taking off toward the craft station without so much as a backward glance.

“Yeah, sure, don’t say goodbye,” you muttered, exhaling as you peeled off your coat and shoved your gloves into your bag.

“You get used to it.”

Your stomach dipped at the sound of his voice.

You turned to find Harry standing beside you, shaking snow out of his curls, his jacket dusted with white. He looked unfairly good for someone who had just come in from the cold—cheeks flushed, green eyes bright with amusement as he nodded toward the kids.

“First time they ditch you, it stings,” he continued, smirking. “By the hundredth time, you stop taking it personally.”

You huffed a laugh, rolling your eyes. “Good to know.”

For a while, the event played out exactly as expected—parents milling around making polite small talk, kids crafting messy holiday decorations that would inevitably end up forgotten at the bottom of their backpacks.

You kept an eye on Lily, but she and Theo were perfectly entertained, alternating between cookie decorating and attempting to build a fort out of the chairs in the corner of the room.

And then, just as you were considering sneaking off to the refreshment table for a refill on your coffee, the first announcement crackled through the speaker system.

A snowstorm.

A bad one.

Roads already piling up, traffic at a standstill. Everyone advised to stay put until further notice.

A slow, collective groan moved through the crowd.

You exhaled sharply, rubbing your fingers over your temples.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Beside you, Harry let out a low whistle. “Guess we’re stuck here for a while.”

You turned to him, narrowing your eyes. “You sound entirely too relaxed about this.”

He smirked. “Because I’ve accepted my fate.” He nodded toward Theo and Lily, who were thriving in the chaos, currently attempting to organize some kind of group game. “They, on the other hand, are living their best lives.”

You sighed, watching as Lily excitedly gestured for Theo to follow her to the makeshift play area.

“Traitor,” you muttered under your breath.

Harry chuckled. “Come on,” he said, nodding toward an empty classroom that had been opened up as an extra seating area. “Might as well find somewhere to sit before we’re reduced to standing in the hallway.”

You followed him, grateful for the momentary escape from the crowded gym.

The classroom was small, with a handful of desks pushed against the walls. Harry dropped into one of the chairs, stretching his legs out in front of him, while you settled into the seat beside him, cradling your coffee cup between your palms.

For a moment, there was nothing but the muffled sound of voices from the hallway, the occasional scrape of a chair from another room.

And then—

“So,” Harry mused, glancing sideways at you. “On a scale from mild to intervention-level dependency, how bad is your caffeine addiction?”

You blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

He nodded toward your cup, smirking. “That’s, what, your third coffee tonight?”

You scoffed. “Second, actually. And I’ll have you know that my caffeine intake is perfectly normal.”

He hummed, unconvinced. “Sure.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I bet you have a thing too, don’t you?”

His brows raised. “A thing?”

“Yes. Some habit or vice you’re embarrassingly reliant on.” You smirked. “Let me guess—you’re a late-night snacker.”

Harry scoffed, shaking his head. “Not even close.”

You tapped your chin, pretending to consider. “Okay. Chronic over-user of pet names?”

His lips twitched. “I mean, love, I do have a tendency—”

You groaned. “Oh, that checks out.”

Harry grinned, his dimples deepening. “You got me.”

For a moment, the conversation settled into something easy, the banter light, playful. And you—despite the exhaustion, despite the long night ahead—felt…

Good.

Harry shifted slightly, watching you. “You’re smiling.”

Your brows furrowed. “I am?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “It’s nice.”

And that—that small, simple sentence—made something tighten in your chest.

Because Harry wasn’t flirting. He wasn’t teasing.

He was just… noticing.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt truly seen.

You cleared your throat, looking away, focusing on the rim of your cup. “Don’t get used to it.”

Harry chuckled, but didn’t press.

You sat there for a little while longer, the room quieter than the ones beyond it, but filled with something else.

Something unspoken.

Something that felt an awful lot like anticipation.

That’s what had been simmering under the surface ever since that snowed-in night at the school.

You told yourself it was nothing—that it was just the circumstances, the way you’d both been forced into conversation, the way time had slowed just enough for you to forget that Harry Styles was not supposed to be part of your life in any meaningful way.

But then came Saturday.

And Saturday ruined everything.

It had been Lily’s idea to go to the bookstore café, but you didn’t exactly fight her on it.

You could pretend all you wanted, but the truth was, you liked it there. The smell of coffee, the cozy chairs tucked between shelves, the soft murmur of people flipping through books—it was one of the few places in the city where your brain actually slowed down for a moment.

So, you’d packed up your laptop, bundled Lily in her coat, and headed down the familiar street, telling yourself that Harry might not even be working today. That it wouldn’t mean anything if you ran into him.

And then you walked inside, and he was right there.

Behind the counter, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, laughing at something one of his employees had said before turning at just the right moment—seeing you.

His eyes brightened. “Look who it is.”

Your stomach flipped. Stupid. Completely ridiculous.

“Hi, Harry.” You cleared your throat, pushing past the way his smile made your chest feel tight. “Busy today?”

“Not too bad.” He leaned against the counter. “Here for your fix?”

You scoffed, already setting your bag down on the edge. “I’ll have you know I went an entire day without coffee yesterday.”

Harry placed a hand over his heart, mock-surprised. “I don’t believe you.”

You rolled your eyes, but Lily was less focused on your caffeine consumption and more on the glass case filled with pastries.

Harry caught her staring, smirking. “Hungry, love?”

She nodded enthusiastically.

“Well, lucky for you, I’ve got some fresh croissants that need a home.” He grabbed a plate and slid two onto it before adding, “On the house.”

You immediately shook your head. “Harry, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he said simply, then met your gaze. “Stay. Sit down for a bit.”

It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t loaded with anything, wasn’t flirtatious or heavy.

It was just… easy.

So you stayed.

You found a table near the window, sipping your coffee while Lily and Theo—who had conveniently appeared out of nowhere—settled on the floor nearby with a pile of books between them.

And somehow, Harry ended up in the chair across from you.

It wasn’t intentional. At least, you told yourself it wasn’t.

It was just conversation—banter, sarcasm, Lily’s constant interruptions to tell you random facts about the book she was reading.

And then… it wasn’t.

Because at some point, the edges of the conversation softened.

At some point, you started talking about things that weren’t just surface-level.

At some point, he told you about the bookstore—how it had started as a risk, how he wasn’t sure if it would work, but he’d wanted Theo to have a place to grow up around stories.

And at some point, you found yourself telling him about your writing, about the way you’d stumbled into freelancing after leaving your old life behind, about how sometimes, you missed the structure of an office, but mostly, you liked this. The freedom. The control over your own world.

Harry had listened.

Really listened.

And then he’d said something—something about how he admired that, about how he could see how much you’d built for yourself.

And that’s when it happened.

That’s when you realized.

This feels like a date.

The realization hit like a punch to the ribs.

Because it wasn’t a date. It couldn’t be.

You weren’t dating. You weren’t even thinking about dating. That wasn’t part of your life anymore, wasn’t something you could afford to let yourself want.

And yet—

You were sitting across from a man who made you feel like maybe it was.

A man who made it easy. Who made you laugh, who made you forget to keep your guard up, who looked at you in a way that made you feel like more than just a tired mother balancing a thousand things at once.

And that—that—was terrifying.

So, before he could say anything else, before you could let yourself sit in the moment for even a second longer, you panicked.

You shot up from your chair so fast Harry’s brows furrowed.

“I should go,” you blurted, already reaching for your bag.

Harry blinked. “What?”

You forced a smile. “I just—Lily has a lot of homework, and I need to—”

Harry wasn’t stupid.

You could see the confusion in his expression, the way his body tensed just slightly, the way his fingers curled around his mug like he was trying to figure out where the shift had happened.

But he didn’t push.

He just nodded, slow and careful, like he was trying to let you run if you needed to.

Lily pouted as you grabbed her hand, but she didn’t argue.

Harry said goodbye to her, ruffled Theo’s hair, then glanced back at you just once before you pushed open the door and stepped out into the cold.

And as you walked away—your heart pounding, your hands trembling—you told yourself you’d done the right thing.

You told yourself that leaving was better.

That letting him get too close would only make things harder.

You told yourself all of that.

And yet—

It didn’t stop you from feeling like you’d just made a mistake.

In fact, it only made it worse.

The whole way home, Lily kept glancing up at you, brows furrowed in confusion, like she knew something had happened but couldn’t quite figure out what. And the next morning, when she asked if you were going back to the bookstore soon, you’d mumbled something noncommittal, changed the subject, and buried yourself in work.

For days, you convinced yourself you’d done the right thing. That putting space between you and Harry was necessary. That whatever this strange, unexpected thing was between you—it wasn’t real.

But while you were busy trying to ignore it, two small, scheming masterminds were doing the exact opposite.

“I think my dad likes your mum.”

Theo’s voice was quiet, but not that quiet.

Lily, crouched beside him under the slide at the park, frowned. “I know.”

Theo blinked. “You do?”

Lily gave him a look, as if obviously. “He always smiles when she’s around. And he looks at her like my teacher looks at her coffee.”

Theo squinted. “Like he needs her?”

“Exactly.”

Theo leaned back, lips pursed in thought. “Well, that’s a problem.”

Lily nodded gravely. “Because my mum likes your dad, too.”

Theo’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Lily huffed, crossing her arms. “But she’s scared.”

Theo considered this, chewing on his lip. Then, slowly, a smirk stretched across his face.

“Well, that just means we have to fix it.”

Lily narrowed her eyes. “How?”

Theo grinned. “Leave that to me.”

You should have known something was up when Lily had asked—too sweetly—if you wanted to take her to the park that weekend.

You should have been suspicious when she mentioned, offhandedly, that Theo had told her he and Harry were going to be there at the same time.

But you—naive, unsuspecting, and still drowning in your own avoidance—had just gone along with it.

Which was exactly how you ended up here.

Standing at the edge of the field, watching as Theo and Lily cackled like tiny villains, while Harry—completely unaware of their plot—ran around playing soccer with them.

And you?

You were helpless.

Because, despite everything, despite every wall you had thrown up, despite every reason you had to keep your distance—you couldn’t look away.

Harry looked happy.

Really, truly happy.

His dimples were deep, his laughter loud and unrestrained. His curls were a mess from the wind, cheeks flushed from the cold, eyes crinkling at the corners as he dodged Theo’s attempt to steal the ball.

And Lily?

She looked just as free.

She wasn’t shy, wasn’t hesitating—she was grinning, giggling so hard that she tripped, falling right into Harry’s arms as he caught her mid-stumble.

And that—that moment—was what did it.

Because when Harry steadied her, ruffling her hair before sending her off again, you felt something click.

Something shift.

And suddenly, the thought you had been pushing away for weeks broke through like a crack in the dam, relentless and impossible to ignore.

This could be something.

Something good. Something real. Something you weren’t sure you were ready for—but something you didn’t want to run from anymore.

Because, maybe…

Maybe it wasn’t just serendipity.

Maybe it was something that was supposed to happen all along.

That thought followed you home. It followed you through dinner, through Lily’s animated retelling of her very official soccer victory, through the quiet moments when she was curled up in bed, her breathing slow and even.

And it followed you long after that, settling in your chest, stubborn and impossible to ignore.

Because you knew what you had to do.

So, the next afternoon, after too much pacing and too much overthinking, you found yourself standing outside the bookstore café, heart hammering as you pushed open the door.

Harry was behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, a pencil tucked behind his ear as he scanned the inventory list in front of him. He looked focused, but the second he glanced up and saw you, something flickered across his face—something cautious.

You swallowed. Right. You did that.

Taking a breath, you stepped forward. “Can we talk?”

He set the clipboard down, wiping his hands on a cloth before nodding toward the back. “Come on.”

You followed him past the bookshelves, through a small hallway that led to a quieter seating area. It was dimly lit, quieter than the front of the shop, and suddenly, this felt very real.

Harry turned to you, arms crossed, waiting.

You exhaled. “I—I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

His brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt.

You forced yourself to meet his gaze. “For running. For… whatever that was.” You sighed, rubbing your hands over your jeans. “I got scared.”

His expression didn’t change, but something in his posture shifted. A quiet understanding settling between you.

“I get it,” he said finally. “But I need to know where your head is at, Y/N.” His voice was even, steady. “Because I don’t do games. I don’t do halfway.”

You swallowed, throat tight.

“I know.”

He stepped closer, eyes never leaving yours. “So, what do you want?”

You hesitated, heart pounding.

But then, you thought about Lily—your Lily. Thought about how effortlessly she had let Theo in, how much brighter she had been since meeting him.

And then, you thought about yourself.

About the way Harry made you laugh. About the way he looked at you—like you weren’t just a mother, just a woman who had learned how to live cautiously, but someone he saw.

And suddenly, the answer wasn’t scary anymore.

“I want to try,” you whispered.

Harry’s shoulders relaxed. His jaw unclenched. And then, slowly, carefully, he stepped forward.

His fingers reached out, brushing a damp strand of hair from your face. “Yeah?”

You nodded, exhaling shakily. “Yeah.”

His lips quirked, but he didn’t say anything.

He just leaned in.

The kiss was soft.

Lingering.

Like it was meant to happen.

And maybe…

Maybe it was.

Maybe it had always been leading to this. To a quiet evening, to wine and laughter and the slow, inevitable pull of something neither of you could ignore any longer.

You weren’t supposed to end up at Harry’s place that night. It had started with dinner—just a casual thing, an unspoken agreement that whatever was growing between you should have space to exist outside of fleeting moments and bookstore conversations.

The kids had been there, of course. It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t something you had planned.

But it had felt easy.

Effortless, even.

Like the four of you were already slipping into place, like Theo rolling his eyes at Lily’s terrible knock-knock jokes was as natural as Harry stealing a bite of food off your plate, smirking when you swatted at him.

And then, somehow, it had stretched later than expected.

The kids had curled up on the couch, movie playing softly in the background, their laughter slowly fading into soft, steady breaths.

And then—

Then it was just you and Harry.

Alone.

A glass of wine, the fire crackling softly in the background.

Your legs tucked under you as you sat on the couch, warmth settling in your limbs—not just from the wine, but from this. From him.

Harry leaned back, fingers tapping against his glass. “So.”

You raised a brow. “So?”

He smirked. “Are we still pretending this isn’t happening?”

Your breath hitched.

Because this.

This was happening.

The easy way he watched you. The way your body tilted toward him without thinking. The way you felt calm here, in his space, in this moment.

You exhaled, heart hammering as you set your wine down.

“I don’t want to pretend,” you admitted.

Harry studied you for a long moment. Then, slowly, he set his glass aside, shifting closer.

And when he leaned in—when he brushed his lips against yours, just barely, just enough to give you a chance to stop this—you didn’t.

You pressed closer.

And finally, finally, you let yourself fall.

Right into him. Right into the warmth of his hands, the steady press of his mouth, the way he didn’t hesitate when you kissed him back.

It was slow at first, unhurried and exploratory, like you were both learning something new—even though this had been building for months. Even though the tension between you had been simmering, bubbling over in every stolen glance, every playful smirk, every time he looked at you like he knew exactly what you were trying to hide.

And now, you weren’t hiding anymore.

His hands found your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your sweater, dragging you in until you were flush against him. He was so warm, the solid weight of his chest pressing into yours, his scent intoxicating—something woody, something clean, something completely Harry.

You let out a soft gasp when he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, his tongue brushing over yours in a slow, teasing stroke.

That sound—it did something to him.

Because suddenly, his grip tightened.

And then, you were moving.

He guided you backward until your lower back hit the edge of the kitchen counter. You barely had time to process the cool surface against your skin before his hands were everywhere—sliding beneath your sweater, mapping the curves of your waist, the dip of your spine, his fingers pressing just firmly enough to make you arch into him.

“Harry—”

He groaned at the way you said his name, his lips never leaving yours as he lifted you onto the counter, spreading your thighs as he stepped between them.

And that was it.

That was the moment everything tipped over the edge.

Because then, Harry was everywhere.

His mouth was hot and insistent against your neck, dragging down, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your collarbone, nipping at your skin just enough to make you whimper.

“Been thinking about this for so long,” he murmured against your throat, his voice thick, husky, wrecked.

Your breath hitched. “Me too.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes were dark, blown-out, his chest rising and falling as he scanned your face. Checking. Waiting.

You exhaled, chest tight, lips swollen from his kisses.

“I want this, Harry.” Your voice was quiet but firm. “I want you.”

Something in him snapped.

And then, he gave you exactly what you asked for.

And then, he gave you exactly what you asked for.

But not in the way you expected.

Because for all the urgency—the heat, the months of unresolved tension stretching between you—Harry didn’t rush.

He kissed you slowly, deliberately, his hands steady as they traced the outline of your body, as if he were memorizing you. Like he wanted to savor every second.

And when he finally lifted you into his arms, carrying you effortlessly through the dimly lit hallway, you didn’t protest. Didn’t question it.

You just let yourself be his.

The bedroom was dark, moonlight pooling in through the window, the sheets cool against your back when he laid you down.

And for a moment—just a moment—Harry didn’t move.

He just looked at you.

His green eyes flickered over your face, your parted lips, the way your chest rose and fell beneath him. His fingers skimmed up your thigh, teasing, light enough to make you shiver, before he leaned down, his lips hovering just over yours.

"You’re beautiful," he murmured. "You know that, right?"

Your breath caught.

Because it wasn’t a line.

He wasn’t trying to seduce you. He wasn’t saying it just to say it.

He meant it.

And you could feel yourself unraveling beneath him.

"Harry—"

But your words cut off when he kissed you again, deeper this time, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your sweater, tugging it up, peeling it off with aching slowness.

His hands traced over your bare skin, up your ribcage, over the dip of your waist. His touch was reverent, patient—like he wanted to learn every inch of you, every soft sound you made when he touched you just right.

Your hands were just as desperate, fingers threading into his curls, tugging lightly as you pressed up into him.

He groaned, breaking the kiss just long enough to yank off his own shirt, tossing it aside before meeting your gaze again.

You exhaled sharply, taking him in.

The tattoos you had only glimpsed before, now completely on display—the swallows over his chest, the butterfly below his ribs, the intricate designs that inked his arms, his stomach, his strong, solid frame.

And then, he kissed you again.

Slower this time. Deeper.

His mouth trailed lower, over your collarbone, down the valley between your breasts, his fingers working at the button of your jeans, slipping them down, kissing along every inch of newly exposed skin.

When his lips met the inside of your thigh, you gasped—gasped, because he was so close to where you needed him, but still taking his damn time.

"Harry—"

"Shh," he murmured, pressing a kiss higher, his stubble scratching deliciously against your sensitive skin. "Let me take my time with you, love."

And then, he did.

He kissed his way up your thighs, parting them further, his hands gripping your hips as his mouth finally—finally—pressed against you.

You gasped, back arching, fingers tangling into the sheets as he licked into you, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every reaction, every sound that spilled from your lips.

"Fuck," you choked out, hips jerking involuntarily.

He hummed, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through you as his tongue flicked exactly where you needed it, his hands holding you open, steadying you, grounding you.

And when he slipped a finger inside you—just one, at first, then another, curling them perfectly— you nearly came undone.

Your body tightened, the pleasure mounting too fast, too intense, and you could feel it—feel yourself teetering on the edge.

"That’s it," Harry murmured against you, his voice thick with lust and admiration. "Let go for me, love."

And you did.

Your orgasm ripped through you, waves of pleasure rolling through every inch of your body as your hips jerked against his mouth, his tongue not relenting—**not even for a second—**as he worked you through it, letting you fall apart completely.

By the time he finally pulled back, his lips were wet, his pupils blown, his expression completely wrecked.

"You taste fucking perfect," he rasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before leaning over you again, caging you in beneath him.

You were still shaking, still catching your breath, but you wanted more.

You needed more.

"Harry—"

He kissed you before you could finish, swallowing your words as he kicked off his jeans, rolling his hips against yours, letting you feel how hard he was for you.

And then, finally, he lined himself up, pausing—just for a second.

His forehead pressed against yours, his breathing uneven.

"You okay?" he murmured, voice ragged.

"Yes," you breathed. "I want you."

That was all he needed.

And then, he pushed inside you.

A broken sound tore from his throat the second he was buried in you—deep, slow, perfect.

And you—fuck, you felt everything.

The stretch, the fullness, the delicious ache of him sinking into you, inch by inch, until he was completely inside you.

"Fuck," he groaned, his jaw clenching, his hands gripping your hips so tightly.

He didn’t move at first. Just stayed there, letting you adjust, letting you feel him.

And then—

Then he pulled out, just enough before thrusting back in, deeper this time.

You gasped, fingers digging into his back, clinging to him.

It was slow at first. Deep and unhurried. Like he wanted to memorize you, like he wanted you to feel all of him.

But then—

Then you moaned his name.

And everything changed.

Harry growled, his grip tightening, his pace picking up, thrusting harder, faster, deeper.

"Fuck, Y/N—" His voice was wrecked, his body pressing you into the mattress, claiming you, ruining you.

And you—you didn’t care.

You wanted to be ruined.

You wanted all of him.

His hand slipped between you, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles that sent shockwaves through you.

"You gonna come again for me, love?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Yes—Harry—fuck—"

"That’s it," he groaned. "Come for me."

And you did.

You shattered around him, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave, your entire body trembling as he followed right after, burying himself deep, spilling inside you, groaning your name like a prayer.

For a long moment, the room was filled with nothing but harsh breathing, racing heartbeats, the aftermath of something that felt inevitable.

And then, Harry moved.

He didn’t pull away. Didn’t let you go.

He just wrapped himself around you, holding you close, pressing a kiss to your damp temple.

"Stay," he murmured, voice soft, tender.

And this time—

You didn’t run.

The smell of coffee woke you before the sunlight did.

Your body was aching in the best way, muscles deliciously sore, the sheets warm and soft against your skin. For a moment, you just laid there, blinking slowly, listening to the faint sounds of movement coming from beyond the bedroom door.

And then you realized.

You weren’t alone.

Not in the way you used to be.

Not in the way that had felt permanent for so long.

You exhaled, stretching slightly before sitting up, pulling the duvet tighter around you.

Harry’s shirt—which you had shamelessly stolen off the floor at some point during the night—hung loosely around your shoulders, smelling like him, feeling like him.

You pushed the bedroom door open quietly, stepping into the hall, and followed the sound of voices into the kitchen.

And the sight that greeted you?

It nearly knocked the breath from your lungs.

Harry stood at the stove, clad in nothing but a pair of low-hanging sweatpants, a spatula in one hand, a coffee cup in the other.

And he wasn’t alone.

Theo and Lily sat at the kitchen island, chattering away, their legs swinging as they watched him flip pancakes.

Theo snickered. “That one’s burnt.”

Harry scoffed, dramatically flipping it onto a plate. “It’s golden brown, thank you very much.”

Lily giggled. “Theo says you always burn the first one.”

Harry smirked. “Well, your mum distracted me.”

At that, you cleared your throat.

Three heads turned toward you in unison.

Theo and Lily grinned.

Harry’s eyes flickered over you—his shirt swallowing your frame, your bare legs peeking out from underneath.

And then, slowly, he smirked.

“What?” you asked, fighting back a smile.

His dimples deepened. “You like seeing me in dad mode?”

You rolled your eyes, stepping forward to grab a mug from the counter. “I think I just like seeing you.”

Harry stilled for half a second.

And then, with zero warning, he was behind you—wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the side of your neck.

Your breath hitched. “Harry—”

“Get used to it, love,” he murmured against your skin.

Your heart stumbled.

And suddenly, you knew.

This was real.

This was yours.

And for the first time in a long, long time…

You weren’t afraid.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Thank you so much for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like ❤️‍🔥

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[signedkoko]

Alastor | Stolas | Vox [Comfort]

In which the two of you bump into your abusive ex who just arrived in hell.

You and Alastor always went on walks through hell together, since you enjoyed exploring the outdoors and he enjoyed people watching

Normally things were relatively peaceful, most, if not everyone, knew the radio demon down to every detail, and avoided him at a mere glimpse

He enjoyed telling you about things that reminded him of his past, or encounters he'd had just down the street, while you listened and observed with awe

Unfortunately, your usually peaceful walk was rudely interrupted by an obnoxious shout in your direction

There was someone who looked severely out of place, likely having just fallen, stumbling towards you with a seething grin

Alastor was already annoyed the moment anyone interrupted him, but even more so at the fact that this individual was shouting obscenities at his darling

Nevertheless, he stood stoic by your side, only glancing down at the shorter individual with an animalistic twitch in his eyes

" Can't you hear me, fucking bitch! You're the slut who put me down her- "

Once your hand gripped onto Alastor's wrist, tugging him, the man's head was sliced clean off, smashing into a building across the street and leaving a visceral splatter

Alastor was already removing his wrist from your hand to wipe the blood from his cane with a handkerchief

Once the body hit the ground with a thud, he had his arm around your waist and lifted you over it, continuing his walk as if nothing had occurred

" And that impeccable diner over there! I just have to take you, it reminds me of my many evenings after the late shows! "

Stolas had heard enough about the life you lived on earth, each momentous day and each sad tale that made up your story

He knew he was never able to protect you up there, and vows to do so now that you are by his side in the afterlife, offering an eternity of protection

Inevitably, he understood some people who had hurt you would eventually find themselves down here, and that some may try to hurt you, so he refused to let you wander alone for too long

It didn't even have to be him, so long as someone he knew could protect you was nearby

Unfortunately, the first to find you was the worst possible individual

The one who had raised their hand so many times to you, and left you with scars Stolas wished he could erase along with every worry

It was one of your date nights, visiting some upper class restaurant after having washed a romance in theatres

You were both dressed to the nines, laughing in one another's company and waiting for the cab you'd called since you'd finished sooner than expected

The both of you climbed in, only for the doors to instantly lock, tearing off without any word or signal from either of you

Stolas laughed it off for a moment, asking the driver if he already knew your destination, though he stopped when he noticed your eyes locked onto the rearview mirror

" Already moving on to someone else? Think I'm not good enough for you? "

The voice was calm but eerie, aimed directly as you

You looked horrified, and Stolas' heart raced as he connected the pieces together

One moment, the car was racing down the road, and the next, you were in the royalty's arms being carried away from a totalled car burning up in flames

You'd only blinked your eyes

Stolas held you tighter that evening, and refused to let go for weeks after

Vox was an extremely busy person

So unfortunately your intimate time together was rare

Despite that, Vox always invited you into his studio with him while he worked, so at least you'd be near one another and he could know you were safe

I mean, you were always safe so long as he could reach you, and modern tech was everywhere in hell nowadays

But he was extra protective since he'd learnt your ex had entered hell

Had he told you? No. Did he feel guilty about it? Yes.

But he just didn't want you to have to worry, and seeing you happily working away at a new project or hobby without a care in the world was just so, so...precious

Eventually he knew he would have to crack the news, but he hadn't anticipated your ex would find you so soon

It was a late night in the studio, with Vox overlooking several large screens as countless information transferred to and from his own database, analysing every media and algorithm

You were behind him, sat in a leather armchair, reading one of the many books that lined the book shelf he kept around as decoration

People came in and out of the floor through an elevator, though as the time got later, the frequency dwindled down severely

When it dinged for the first time that hour, neither of you were too bothered, Vox continuing without a flinch and you looking up for just a moment

Your gaze never went back to your book, though, stuck on the face that had a hateful sneer aimed straight at you

The phone in your pocket dinged with an alert, something about your heart rate increasing drastically in too short a time, and the information registered into Vox in milliseconds

" Finally, I fucking found you! "

One step out of the elevator, and the door clamped shut around their second leg with a loud crack, forcing your ex down onto one knee

Vox only turned to you, ignoring the wailing figure

" Oh man I really should have told you they were here! You can yell at me after. "

The suited man then walked towards your ex as the doors slowly released, kneeling down in front of him with a cackle

" Pathetic. Freak. "

Vox kicked them back into the elevator, and you heard the thing drop at high speeds back down the skyscraper

Security would handle the mess

Author's Note - I wanted to write for some of my favs to get us started off, and went for a prompt I see pretty often. If you like what I do, please consider sending in a request 🖤

[andypantsx3]

𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑖

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike. All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 4.7k | chapter 2 of 4

Then

The Todoroki house was the most interesting place you had ever been.

At home it was just you and your mom, and most of the time she was working, or recovering from working, but the Todoroki house was packed with children from wall to wall. There was almost never a dull minute—except when Todoroki Enji came home and everyone got stiff and weird—but when he wasn’t around, you found you preferred the Todoroki mansion to the loneliness of your own empty house.

Touya seemed to sense this, and deigned to invite you over often, enough that you found yourself following him home after school at least once a week.

After the first time, you’d been introduced to his other siblings, Fuyumi and Natuso, who were both much nicer than Touya, and notably far more talkative. Shouto was a near-constant too, almost always propped on his mother’s hip when you arrived home, and always eager to be handed off to you, enough that you could tell Touya was annoyed.

“You’re not even related,” he complained, and you hid a smile at his barely-couched jealousy.

“I’m just better than you,” you told him, sticking your tongue out, dodging when he tried to grab it. You’d never had siblings, and you’d been forced to learn quickly that nothing was off-limits to people with younger siblings. Revenge would always be exacted.

Even when Shouto got older, old enough to talk in complete sentences and toddle about on his own, he seemed to prefer your company. You and Touya were almost never left alone to play on your own, Shouto always in the room with you, almost velcroed to your side.

He was on the floor next to you in the living room on one such occasion, Touya absolutely destroying you in Super Mario, when Rei called Touya in from the kitchen.

Touya rolled his eyes, pausing and flinging his controller at your head with the manner of someone who hoped it actually connected. “Don’t restart while I’m gone or I’ll kill you.”

You saluted him as he stomped out, taking a minute to stretch out from where you’d sat hunched over your controller. You bumped Shouto as you did, and he looked up at you from his coloring book, where he was shading in a pair of penguins in hot pink.

“Nice choice,” you told him, and Shouto looked a little bit like he was trying not to preen.

“Izuku in my class says penguins mate for life, like us,” he said, authoritatively.

You blinked, your brain snagging on the like us. Alphas, betas, and omegas could mate for life, and were generally expected to, but that didn’t always quite play out if you didn’t find your life mate. Your mother was a near-hand example, your father having left her while you were still in swaddling clothes, only to pass away a short few years later. They hadn’t been life mates, you’d come to realize recently—though your mother still believed in them. You hoped she’d find hers still, someday.

You thought maybe, however, that you were not going to hold out hope for your own, if it was as tricky as it seemed.

“You know not everyone does, right?” you asked, peering down at Shouto.

Wide, guileless eyes stared back up at you. Shouto had lost a little of his baby fat recently, but absolutely none of his sweetness.

“Who does not?” he demanded, sitting back on his haunches.

You fiddled with the controller in your fingers, wondering suddenly if you should have brought this up with him. “Some people. My parents didn’t,” you said, cautiously.

Shouto’s eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. ��Your parents?”

You shook your head. “Sometimes people don’t find them even after all of the mating runs.”

Shouto did not look pleased with this. His eyes roved over you, pinning on you with a sort of sudden, unnerving intensity. “Sometimes people go on mating runs. And their life mate is not there because they are too young to go yet.”

You blinked, surprised by the specificity of this conclusion. “Sometimes, probably, yeah.”

Shouto’s tiny frown deepened, and he carefully arranged himself up against your side. “You will wait though, right?”

Your hand found its way unthinkingly into his hair, ruffling it. He was a sweet kid. “I mean, people usually go through more than one mating run, right?”

Shouto pressed more insistently into your side. “You will keep going until your life mate is there, though.”

You had an image of yourself, greying and eighty, slowly wobbling on your cane through the preserve. You suppressed a laugh. “I’ll go as I can until I age out, how about that?”

Shouto nodded, satisfied. His crayon resumed on the penguins, fiery pink streaking across the page. “I will be there,” he pronounced definitively.

His decisive tone startled a laugh out of you. You grinned down at him, unable to help the urge to ruffle his hair again. “I’ll stick around until we can run together. Although you better get good at climbing trees.”

Shouto blinked, his mouth pursing in puzzlement. “Trees,” he repeated to himself.

You nodded. “If I’m not an alpha, and I have to hide somewhere, I’m going to find the best tree in the preserve and go up it and not come down until I find my life mate.”

You would not be like your parents. You would not settle, and you would be realistic about your prospects.

Shouto’s eyes tracked across your face once more, like he was committing the statement to memory.

“You’re welcome to come up with me,” you said. You couldn’t imagine Shouto as anything other than an omega like his mom, not with that sweet little face. You didn’t like the idea of some alpha trying to get at him, so it was better he stay safe in your tree with you.

The thought suddenly rankled, and you decided you were done with this discussion. Better not to think of Shouto all grown up and spirited away from everyone until you absolutely had to.

You tapped a finger on Shouto’s coloring book, turning him back to it. “Anyway. Tell me about the other animals in here? Did Izuku tell you about any of these?”

Shouto looked down at the page, his expression shifting seriously. “This is a killer whale,” he said, pointing to a corner of the page he’d colored in with a blob of forest green. “They are related to dolphins. They are the biggest dolphin in the world.”

You nodded, relaxing back on your hands, gesturing for him to go on.

Shouto took his job very seriously, explaining solemnly and in great detail all the animals on the page, the way he sometimes described all his toys to you. You let him go on, finding that you liked listening to Shouto talk—he was rarely so wordy, but he was easy and familiar and funny in how seriously he took everything.

You laid back and listened to him, hoping Touya took a little extra time in the kitchen. Shouto looked pleased to have your attention, and soon enough you found yourself dozing, your head against his little thigh, content with Shouto’s sweet little voice washing over you.

In Shouto’s company, the Todoroki house felt a lot like home.

Now

Your beloved mother woke you in the morning ramming the vacuum into the door of your old bedroom-turned-storage room.

You groaned from your air mattress, your old bed frame sold off already to pay a gas bill. You missed that thing.

“Only a week together and you were out all day yesterday,” your mother said when you emerged from your old room, shooting you a look that immediately made you feel like a teenager again. She was wearing one of your old sweatshirts, that she’d clearly commandeered because she’d missed you.

Your heart squeezed a little at the familiar sight of her, but not enough to curb your morning fussiness.

“Maybe I was out scoping alphas to pounce on during the run,” you said, shuffling towards the kitchen and the promise of coffee.

“You were out with the mayor’s son,” she said, sniffing. A small smile pulled at your mouth—she had pettily refused to call Touya by his name for years.

She’d been thrilled by your friendship with him when you were kids. From the outside, Touya had looked like a beautiful little boy from a well-to-do family. You knew she’d once held out hope for your friendship to turn into something more, to see you settled into a well-off family and taken good care of.

For your part, however, you’d been drawn to Touya but never interested in that way, and you knew Touya felt the same. And things had only gotten more complicated when Touya’s mental health had crumbled like dirt under his father’s heel, and even worse when the Todoroki family fire broke out; Touya’s extensive burns damaged his glands and destroyed any evidence of his secondary gender before he’d even presented. Though, personally, you’d always suspected he was an omega. He was showy, flashy, possessed of that classic omega need for praise and attention—not quite to your tastes.

You thought you probably preferred someone a little more lowkey, someone steady and easy. Definitely not Touya.

There was also the fact that his efforts as of late seemed directed at the one quarter of your friend group with blonde, fluffy hair. Though you knew Touya would rather burn his remaining skin off before admitting it.

Either way, your mother’s hopes of a marriage into the Todoroki family were dashed, along with her opinion of Todoroki Enji when things finally came to head, and she’d never quite forgiven Touya for it.

“Touya says hello,” you answered distractedly, fiddling around with the coffee machine, though of course Touya had said no such thing. “I saw Rei though, and Natsuo and Fuyumi and Shouto. Did you know Shouto is a firefighter now? He’s gotten so big.”

“An alpha?” your mom’s voice floated out from the living room, her eagerness not quite suppressed.

You laughed, though a tiny, strange sort of spark lit up your spine. “Mom, I’m a couple years too old for him. I’m like his grandma.”

“Oh you are not, you dramatic thing,” you heard her sniff.

“Our first date could be at my bingo hall,” you carried on over the hiss of the water boiling, the dribble of coffee into the pot. “And we could get drunk on our prune juice, and I could slide out my dentures waiting for him to kiss me—”

“I’m going to sell you,” your mother said, her vacuum starting up again pointedly. You heard the distinct thump of it being rammed into a couch leg and grinned.

You knew she wanted to see you settled because she loved you, wanted to see you taken care of in all the ways that she hadn’t been. Your father had let her down years before he’d even passed, which you thought should have besmirched any alpha’s good name in your mother’s book. But she was determined to believe in love and life mates despite it all, and you admired her for it. She was a stubborn thing.

You spent the morning helping her do chores, clambering up onto the counters and getting all the places she couldn’t regularly reach, hauling out her trash and googling your way through some low-level repairs. You shared a quick breakfast in between, dodging more questions about the mating run, before returning to cleaning.

You were covered in dust and a thin layer of Lysol by the time you remembered you’d promised to meet Shouto at the fire station for lunch. There was not enough time to change or shower if you wanted to pick something up on the way, and you supposed it was well enough that Shouto did not actually possess the level of interest in you that your mother might have wanted him to.

“Going to see my child bride,” you told your mom on the way out, laughing and dodging a sponge.

The walk to the fire station took the better part of forty-five minutes, including a long interlude spent hemming and hawing over the prepared foods section of the grocery store before you finally settled on cold soba—Shouto’s favorite from when you were younger, if you remembered correctly.

The fire station itself was an older, whitewashed multi-story building, set back from the main road. The garage doors were open in the warming spring air, the bright red of the fire engines clearly visible from blocks away. You must have been visible from blocks away, too, because Shouto stepped out as you turned onto the drive, the dark blue of his stationwear stark against his skin.

Your heart did a strange lurching motion in your chest, and you pointedly did not let your eyes linger on the way his uniform belted in at his hips, highlighting the trimness of his waist and the breadth of his shoulders. Nope.

“Hi Shouto,” you said, holding up your bag of spoils. “You still like soba, right?”

Shouto blinked, his eyelashes fluttering. Long fingers touched the bag, hefting it carefully from your grip. “You remember.”

You grinned up at him. “How could I forget? Especially because I was there when you had it for the first time. You flung some at Touya from your high chair and it ended up on me instead.”

Shouto looked embarrassed, a pink flush spreading prettily across the tops of his high cheekbones. “I do not believe you.”

“Uh huh,” you said.

Shouto’s mouth pulled into what might have been a nonexpression on anyone else, but was most definitely a pout on him. Cute.

“I can reassure you there will be no soba flung today,” he promised, his deep voice earnest. Then he paused. “Touya is not in range.”

A surprised laugh escaped you, and the edge of Shouto’s lips pulled. He looked pleased with himself for having drawn it out of you. He’d always made you laugh, even as a kid—though mostly for how incongruously serious he was as a child, even about the silliest things. But also for how he seemed able to press people’s buttons—Touya’s especially—just by existing.

Shouto gestured you inside, and you studied the firetrucks as you passed them, mostly so you did not watch the way Shouto’s shoulders shifted beneath his shirt.

When he caught your look of curiosity, Shouto led you over to one, opening the door for you to take a look inside. You peered at all the knobs and switches interestedly, leaning into the cab. It looked complex, and yet very familiar. It actually looked a lot like the toy fire truck that once spent a fair amount of time occupying the inside of baby Shouto’s mouth.

You glanced back, opening your mouth to tell Shouto as much, when suddenly two large hands were at your waist, warm and sure. They lifted you right into the driver’s seat like it was absolutely no effort.

You fell into the cab, suddenly winded. You whipped around to stare at Shouto, heart hammering with the casual display of alpha strength, unable to help the wide-eyed look you knew you were giving him. That was—that was—not allowed.

“Am I—can I be—in here?” you garbled out, trying not to make obvious the real reason for your sudden disorientation.

Shouto stepped up onto the wheel plate to lean into the cab beside you, bringing in a puff of that scent like campfire on a cold day. “Yes,” he answered, looking unbothered with how close his face was to yours.

You watched him helplessly, brain fogging with his proximity and his scent. He was very, very pretty up close. He’d grown into what had to be the most beautiful person you’d actually ever seen—his mother’s looks, dialed up to an eleven. The deliberate alpha edge to him should have been at odds with that delicate sensuality—but instead it was like his secondary gender sat on him like a beam of sunlight, highlighting his beauty.

It was totally at conflict with the round, pudgy little thing he’d been when you’d first seen him, the lanky preteen you’d left him as.

He felt so familiar and yet so strangely new. It was disconcerting.

You quickly averted your gaze, making a show of leaning in over all the dials and buttons. Shouto leaned right over your lap, his chest warm against your legs, patiently explaining what each one did in his low, calm tone. The depth of his voice was so shocking, but the tone so similar to what it had been—you could remember him explaining animals in his coloring book to you in much the same level of careful detail once.

Your head spun with the dichotomy. Baby Shouto, a lifetime away, and adult alpha Shouto here in front of you—

You hurriedly pushed the thought of adult alpha Shouto down before you could think too deeply on it. That was off limits.

When you’d had your fill and Shouto had managed to make sure you didn’t accidentally deploy the ladder in the station itself, he helped you down from the cab, his hands hot on your waist.

“I’m old but still spry enough to get myself down, young man,” you told him as he settled you back on the station floor. Your heartbeat felt like it was somewhere around your throat.

“I did not hear your bones creak at least,” Shouto said, startling you into a laugh again.

His mouth twitched as he led you further into the station, giving you a short tour of the gear racks, the office, the laundry room and fitness room stuffed with several of his coworkers, a room that smelled overwhelmingly of clashing alpha scents, none nearly as good as Shouto’s.

A cheery red head waved to you from the leg press, that Shouto introduced as Kirishima, and a blonde alpha greeted him with a towel whipped directly at Shouto’s face. Shouto ducked it with the ease of long practice.

“Oi halfie, who the fuck told you you could eat the cookies I brought in?” the blonde demanded, barely sparing you an acknowledging glace as he reracked a mind-bogglingly enormous set of weights.

Shouto introduced him anyway, in a deliberately bland tone that you immediately recognized as one he deployed to rile up Touya. “This is Bakugou Katsuki.”

“Answer the damn question,” Bakugou said.

Shouto blinked long and slow and absolutely meant to annoy. You hid a smile. “Am I expected to fight fires on an empty stomach,” Shouto said, flatter than a question.

“I’ll fucking show you an empty stomach when I rip out your—”

“You must be Y/N,” Kirishima said loudly from the leg press. You instantly clocked a beta disruption technique at work and smiled at him.

“Nice to meet you,” you said, searching for something to reply with, uniting in his peace-keeping mission. “That’s—an impressive amount of weight.”

“Thanks!” Kirishima said brightly.

Out of the corner of your eye you caught Shouto’s head snapping towards you, and you looked back to find his eyes narrowed on you.

“I can press as much,” Shouto said, his tone insistent. He crowded a little closer to you.

Your eyebrows crept towards your hairline, mystified. “I—that’s—great?”

A tiny frown pulled at Shouto’s mouth, and a disgusted sound issued from Bakugou’s corner of the gym. “You gotta be fucking kidding me. Take this shit right outta here,” Bakugou demanded.

Shouto ignored him, still staring at you. He pressed closer, his shoulders shifting so that he was angled between you and Kirishima, obscuring most of your line of sight.

“I—mean you definitely look like you can press, um, a lot,” you continued, bewildered. “The only pressing I do is, uh, french press.”

The frown evaporated from Shouto’s expression, something suddenly pleased descending over it instead. Beyond him, you thought you could see Kirishima smiling, mouthing you look like you can press a lot to Bakugou, and an answering eye-roll from Bakugou. Oh god. Had you said that?

Your face heated, and you immediately decided an evacuation was in order. “Well thanks for letting us interrupt you. Nice to meet you guys. Shouto—should we—?”

Shouto’s hand found the small of your back, gently guiding you. All thought of Kirishima and Bakugou suddenly evaporated under the feeling of that hot palm, and you barely managed another wave as Shouto shadowed you out of the room. He led you up a flight of stairs to the dorm area, where several more of his coworkers were arrayed, chatting over their own lunches.

Face still sort of warm, you helped Shouto unpack the soba and the various side dishes you’d grabbed. He disappeared further into the kitchen and returned with glasses of water and the appropriate utensils, arraying everything in front of you.

“So this is going to be your first run,” you said conversationally, after you’d taken your first bite of soba. “Got any lucky omega in mind?”

Shouto’s eyes darted up from his chopsticks to your face, grey and blue pinning you. “I have… someone in mind,” he said, after a moment.

A strange twinge made itself known in your chest again. You ignored it, shoving more noodles into your mouth determinedly.

“I am sure you will have absolutely no trouble, but I am happy to give you a quick rundown of all the usual hiding spots anyway,” you said. “Most omegas actually end up not too far into the preserve because they want to be caught, so it should be pretty easy.”

One of Shouto’s brows quirked the tiniest bit. “I have reason to believe I’ll need to follow at least a few miles.”

You felt your own eyebrows lift. Not too many omegas went super far in, unless they were looking to avoid someone or pose a real challenge. You went miles in specifically for that reason as well—to steer clear of the action, not that it was likely to find you anyway—and get up your tree before anyone came looking.

“There’s fewer spots that far out because the brush gets all scraggly at the coast,” you said. “There’s a few outcroppings though that I’ve seen omegas go for. You really think your intended will go that far?”

Shouto considered you for a long moment, those mismatched eyes roving over you. “I do.”

Whoever it was, they were going to make him work for it, huh? You suppressed a growing spot of offense on his behalf.

“And you’re sure about this person?” you asked.

Shouto nodded. “I have been sure since I was very small.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the same time as your stomach seemed to drop. That was very sweet—and also strangely disheartening to hear.

Why was that disheartening?

“Then—do you think they’re for sure your life mate?” you asked, taking a careful, studied sip of water.

“I do,” Shouto answered. The simplicity of his statement spoke for itself. You were a beta and did not have quite the same capacity to detect your mate as an alpha, but you knew alphas always knew. You wondered if he’d always known he was going to end up an alpha if he’d had that instinctive understanding since he was young.

You wondered why he’d never said anything, all those years you’d grown up together.

Your heart did a strange dip, sinking at the same time it lifted for him.

“I’m really happy for you Shouto. I’m glad I came back just in time to see you find happiness, when it feels like I have already missed so much else,” you told him.

Shouto leaned forward, catching your eye. His gaze was serious where it caught yours. “I am glad you came back, too. You have been… missed,” he said.

Your heartbeat fluttered, and you gripped the edge of the table, trying to quell the feeling. It would not do to be too overwhelmed by Shouto. Not now.

You managed a smile, and quickly rerouted the conversation back to the hiding spots you knew, and the forest trails you’d seen most omegas utilize. Shouto watched you carefully, and you hoped he was committing the information to memory.

After that the conversation turned to more innocuous topics, a rehashing of some of your shared childhood memories, some picking on Touya. The soba disappeared between the two of you, as well as all the side dishes you’d brought. Shouto was incredibly easy to talk to, you found—a fascinating blend of the earnest, slight shit-stirrer of a little boy you’d known and a blandly funny adult man. He had some of Touya’s underlying propensity towards intensity, and some of his mother’s thoughtful sweetness—and you liked the way the familiar traits blended into something faceted and interesting.

He really had grown up.

After lunch he let you explore more of the station, showing you all the compartments on the fire engines, explaining all the equipment. On the way to the door he also let you rifle through the gear bays, showing you his own rack of turnout gear.

He even let you try his jacket on, looking like he was suppressing a smile when the heaviness of it weighed your arms down, watching you flap your arms around, marveling as what was easily twenty pounds of heat-proof fabric resisted you.

No wonder he needed such an intense workout routine.

You couldn’t help but be amazed by it all—who Shouto had turned into, and the fact that he had such an impressive job, one that fit him so well. The fact that he was an adult now, with goals and ambitions that were a lot more grounded than yours. The fact that he was an alpha of all things, and could lift you up into a firetruck as easily as you’d once lifted him off Touya’s hip.

It was so much to contemplate, and you watched him, helplessly fascinated, as he led you around.

You lingered for long enough that the sky was tinging pink and orange by the time you left, and Shouto saw you to the door, insisting on plugging in his number to your phone so you could text when you got home. You could still feel his eyes on you as you turned the corner down the street, a strange warmth suffusing you as you walked. It kept you warm the entire way home, despite the cool evening air.

It was only when you arrived at your mother’s front door, shooting off your promised text to Shouto that you realized that you were mooning like a girl returning home from a date—a completely embarrassing, inappropriate tact for your mind to take with someone who had been your childhood friend. Your childhood junior.

Besides, Shouto had explicitly said he had someone in mind already, someone he intended to follow during the run. And you were too old for him, and a beta as well. Alpha-beta couplings were rare—and if Shouto had known who his life mate was since he was very small, and never given any indication it was a beta—well that spoke for itself.

You shook your head as you let yourself in through the door, trying to slough off the feeling as you called a greeting to your mother. It was sad you’d never get to haul him up a tree after you, the way you’d promised when you were kids. But such was life, you guessed.

Shouto may have grown up into an admirable man and a beautiful alpha—but he was off limits to you. You’d make sure you treated him with nothing but the respect and friendly fondness he deserved. Nothing else.

Absolutely nothing else.

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Joel catches you reading smut. ]

Smut, age difference

(Post outbreak)

“It’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about, darlin’” he stepped closer as you clutched your book tighter.

“I’m not embarrassed” you lied, of course you were. The man you had just been fantasizing about caught the very sexual things you were reading.”

When Tommy’s older brother had arrived, you didn’t know what to expect. Tommy was a close friend of your father’s who recently passed away, he promised you that he would do his part in keeping you safe and letting you stay with him. He had never really mentioned having a brother and so you were curious to see who this man was. You had only heard the rumors going around, Maria informed you they were privately having a drink together and catching up

“Is he nice?” You asked curiously as Maria helped you clean the kitchen.

“I’ve only heard things about him from Tommy, haven’t had a chance to be around him long enough to see what he’s like for myself.”

Just as she finished her sentence the doors opened with Tommy walking in first. Following behind was a man you figured to be his brother. The man had thick waves like Tommy, with hints of grey. He was handsome just like his brother but you could see a very big difference simply in the eyes.

“This is my older brother, Joel” Tommy introduced him to you . For the first time since he walked into the room his eyes locked with yours with a polite nod.

“Nice to meet you” you spoke softly.

He would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t find you attractive the second he laid eyes on you. But Joel could tell you were young and he had never even thought of being with someone around your age and so he ignored the attraction. Being with anyone was honestly the last thing on his mind.

“I’m gonna continue showin’ Joel around, introducing him to others” Tommy looked at both you and Maria before walking out. The second you turned to Maria she could already tell you liked him by the way you had been blushing.

“Oh no, honey. Joel is a no go”

“What?”

“I see that look in your eye and trust me that ain’t the way you wanna go”

“You don’t even know him, said so yourself!” You chuckled in disbelief by her response.

“Well, I’ve heard enough things to know that’s not what you want nor what you need.”

Joel cleared his throat turning back at the door he had just walked out of.

“Who’s-“ before he could finish, Tommy turned and stopped him right in his tracks.

“That’s a daughter of a close friend of mine. She’s only twenty two and just lost her dad…don’t -“

“I wasn’t thinkin’ about anything like that. Just a simple question’” Joel responded defensively.

“Besides, I ain’t the one who’s been known for hookin’ up with college girls” Tommy couldn’t help but laugh at Joel’s comment.

“Times have changed huh”

“Sure have” Joel uttered as Tommy continued on the tour of where he would be staying before leaving with him a few sweats and t shirts.

Later that night you found yourself having trouble to sleep and so you did as you usually would when trying to sleep.

Read a book.

It wasn’t just any book, a book filled with romance and erotic sex. Your guilty pleasure in things you’ve found over time and would hide away. When everyone was asleep you’d sit in the living room where it was cooler, by yourself on the couch lost in each chapter until that night you found yourself not alone.

The sound of a door opening causing you to quickly sit up from the comfortable position you were in to find Tommy’s brother Joel coming out of his room.

“Sorry, I thought no one was up”

“It’s fine, I was just gonna go to my room-“ you closed your book noticing he seemed a bit restless.

“Ya don’t gotta leave, it’s fine. I just-“ he seemed to get lost in what he wanted to say, not knowing where he was going.

“Adjusting to your first night here” you continued for him.

“I’m used to movin’ around, just hasn’t been this peaceful in a while” he explained. An awkward silence followed as you stood still before you sighed.

“Wanna have a drink with me?” Your unexpected offer making him furrow his brows.

“I don’t think-“

“I’m over twenty one. Not that it matters” you laughed.

“I don’t usually drink but one glass isn’t gonna hurt” you continued as you found your way to the bar. Placing your book down on the table you turned your back to him as you grabbed two glasses. Joel quietly followed, stopping at the table to take a look at the book you were reading. As you searched for the bottle of whiskey Joel curiously opened the book on the page you were on. His eyes quickly finding the vulgar words you read, realizing you were reading porn. A quick glance at a detailed sentence of a woman’s breasts bouncing in a man’s face making him clear his throat and quickly close the book.

“Found it” he looked up to find you bent over reaching for the bottle. Just as you turned to him he adjusted his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck as you began to pour.

“You sure you should be doin’ this” he leaned on the bar as you stood on the other side.

“What are you gonna do? Tell Tommy?” You teased followed with a laugh.

“I’m not a little girl, Joel. I’ve had plenty of drinks before” he stood silent as you looked at him. You seemed so innocent, too innocent to be reading about fucking. The sentence in the book crossing his mind again as you took a sip of your drink causing his eyes to slowly find their way to your breasts that were covered by a thin t shirt you wore. He wondered if you pictured yourself in these stories and that’s when he found himself wondering what your breasts looked like.

“Aren’t you gonna drink it?” Your voice making him quickly look up as he felt his cock begin to swell up. Without saying a word he quickly chugged down his drink and stood up, thankful that the bar was between the both of you leaving you unaware of the erection he had pushing against his sweats.

“You ok?” You asked.

“Mhm, goin’ ta bed” he quickly turned away walking back to his room as you stood a bit confused. Feeling as if you may have said something wrong or offended him in some way, you shrugged it off and went back to reading. Joel lay in bed knowing you were just outside probably still reading that fucking porn. The more he thought about it the more he wanted to burst. Trying to ignore it he turned over in bed trying to shut his eyes hoping his hard on would just go away but of course it didn’t. Cursing at himself he turned on his back staring at the ceiling. What would be the harm in jerking himself off to you just once? It’s not like you would know. Untying his sweats he pushed his pants down far to expose his cock. Spitting on his hand he began to stroke himself, closing his eyes thinking about you. Picturing you asking him to fuck you, picturing how your body must feel. Joel continued for some time, his imagination wandering as he began to breathe heavily feeling himself about to cum. His hand moving faster, his lips apart, a vein bulging out of his neck just as he came heavily all over his hand.

He moaned deeply pressing his lips together tightly looking down out of breath as his hand stroked his shaft once more. Throwing his head back he sighed, he wasn’t proud of himself but he fucking needed that.

The next morning you sat at the breakfast table talking with Maria, you hadn’t told her about seeing Joel in the middle of the night but you found yourself thinking about it.

You found yourself thinking about him.

Joel walked into the living room to find you at the table next to Maria, the two of you seemed very into whatever you were talking about.

“Well good morning” Maria greeted him as he stood by the table. You couldn’t help but notice he was dressed in a jacket ready to go out into the cold.

“Mornin’, where’s Tommy?”

“I’ll go get him so he can show you what’s in store for today” she smiled before leaving the room as you awkwardly sat across from him taking a sip from your mug. Looking to the side he cleared his throat before the sound of your voice caught his attention.

“How’d you sleep?”

“Good” he stared at you for a moment remembering what he had done last night. Remembering the images he had of you in his head and how it made him feel.

“Do you want coffee? Found some of the best” You asked softly.

“Sure” he watched as you stood up and turned around, his eyes dropping right to your ass. A part of him not understanding himself, he knew you were young, he never looked at a woman your age this way before. The silence was awkward, you could feel his eyes on you with your back to him.

“Shit-“ you dropped the cup on the floor breaking it into four large pieces. He quickly walked towards you, crouching to your level.

“It’s fine, I got it. Just clumsy sometimes” the two of you unexpectedly grabbing one piece together. His hand over yours, the touch of your skin intensifying his desire for you just as Tommy walked into the room with Maria. Quickly you both stood up looking away from one another as Tommy furrowed his brows.

“What happened here?”

“I dropped it by accident, sorry Tommy. I’ll pick it up” you grabbed a broom as Tommy shrugged.

“That’s alright. Joel-“ his eyes turned to his brother.

“There’s a few things I want to show you today, let’s get going” Joel nodded and followed his brother out of the room while Maria stood by the door squinting her eyes at you.

“Mmmhm”

You rolled your eyes at her playfully before she walked away leaving you alone.

That evening you helped make dinner with Maria as you usually would a few nights out of the week. Tommy and Joel sat talking together as you and Maria began to bring the food to the table. Joel’s eyes instantly turning between you and his brother with distraction before he quickly stood up to help you with the bowl of food.

“Oh thank you, Joel” you smiled as he set the food down.

“No, thank you, darlin’ this looks delicious”

Tommy and Maria looked at each other for a moment before you and Joel noticed the silence.

“Ain’t you a gentleman” Tommy chuckled as you sat down across Joel. Tommy went on to tell Maria the day he had with his brother not noticing the way his brother was staring at you, not noticing the way you looked at him. You smiled at him making him quickly look down at his food and clear his throat.

“And how was your day?” Tommy asked distracting you.

“Um, it was good. Helped make dinner and read my book” Joel’s eyes fought to not look up at you. Probably was that damn book you had been reading the night before.

“Yeah, Joel. This one over here loves to read, she’s real smart” Joel slid his tongue in his inner cheek as he adjusted himself in his seat.

“Oh yeah?” He looked directly at you as he took a sip of his water. You could tell by the way he looked at you he was thinking something, yet you couldn’t tell what. Had you known that he read the dirty things you were reading you would’ve understood the look he was giving you.

After dinner Joel and Tommy cleaned up as they continued expressing how satisfied they were with dinner. It had been a while since Joel had a dinner like that, he quickly learned how better Tommy had been living than he had.

“Where are you two going?” You asked as Maria whispered something to Tommy walking towards the exit.

“We had a little something planned tonight, the sight of the stars are beautiful close by, we wanted some time together to enjoy them” you smiled as Tommy excitedly expressed what he had planned.

“Well, enjoy your evening. I’m gonna go finish reading-“ you then turned to Joel.

“If you need anything and you can’t find them, you know where to find me” you smiled as he nodded.

“Thank you, darlin’. Have a good night” you walked to your room and shut the door excited to read your next chapter.

As you began reading your book, the author began to describe a sexual encounter with an older man and younger woman. You couldn’t help but think how much the man she described made you think of Joel. Joel was a good looking man and so it was pretty easy to picture him with what you read. You surprised yourself finding yourself getting turned on by Joel with these images in your mind. The story only getting more steamy making you begin to squirm and get hot that you suddenly lay the book flat on your chest.

What the hell were you doing to yourself?

Getting horny at the thought of Tommy’s older brother? You shook your head and stood up needing a glass of water.

Holding your book tight to your chest you walked out to unexpectedly find Joel sitting on the couch.

“I thought you were in your room” you pressed your lips together awkwardly as if you weren’t just picturing this man naked on top of you.

“In a bit. You alright?” He asked noticing how flushed you became.

“Yeah, just needed some water” you nervously placed your book down on the table and walked past him quickly to the counter. He couldn’t help but look at the book you left a few feet away from him. Distracted with chugging your water you hadn’t noticed Joel stood up curious to take another look at your book. Silently looking up at you to make sure you wouldn’t catch him, he quickly turned the book over. His eyebrows furrowed as he focused on the story realizing it was about a forbidden sexual encounter, an older man and younger woman. A man not being able to resist but feed his urge with the young woman. Joel took a deep breath continuing to read it when your voice made him quickly look up.

“What are you doing?” You asked slightly embarrassed knowing exactly what was in that book.

“Nothin’ I-“you cut him off quickly taking hold of your book holding it close to your chest. He could tell you were embarrassed.

“What? What’s wrong with reading romance?” You attempted to save yourself.

“Is that what you call it?” He asked with a slight smirk watching your cheeks turn a darker shade of red.

“It’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about, darlin’” he stepped closer as you clutched your book tighter.

“I’m not embarrassed” you lied, of course you were. The man you had just been fantasizing about caught the very sexual things you were reading.

“I should get to bed. Goodnight” you awkwardly moved pasted him until he reached out and caught you by your arm with his fingers. He didn’t say a word but the touch of him stopped you in your tracks. In this very moment he knew he was giving into the temptation he had been so strongly feeling.

“Why don’t you tell me what happens next, honey’” you froze feeling him move so close behind you. Quickly you turned to find him inches away, his eyes hungry with desire just as he reached over and gently took the book from your hands. It was as if you couldn’t speak, his energy wasso intimidating…

Turning the page Joel read a sentence in silence as he slid his tongue over his bottom lip.

“He couldn’t resist any longer, the urge to feel himself inside her he could no longer control-“ you felt a tingly sensation between your legs hearing his raspy voice read an erotic sentence. Joel looked up to see you flushed, breathing quickly, your lips apart. He smirked closing the book as he took a step closer but before he could say anything the sound of Tommy entering the room made you jump and instantly snap out of any trance you were in.

“What are you guys doing?” He asked curiously as he walked by the bar.

“Nothing I-I forgot my book out here and he was just returning it to me” you quickly grabbed your book and took a step back.

“Well I forgot to bring a nice bottle of whiskey for Maria and I so here I am” he chuckled reaching below for a bottle as you and Joel locked eyes.

“I’m gonna get to bed, goodnight guys” you hesitantly took a step back as Joel watched you slowly walk away before Tommy cleared his throat.

“Well, got what I needed, I’ll be back later” Tommy grinned before walking out leaving Joel alone with his thoughts.

Leaning your back against the door you felt your heart racing. A part of you wishing Tommy hadn’t returned feeling a moment was ruined until you heard a knock on your door.

Slowly opening it you looked up to see Joel with the same look he had just moments ago.

“Ya didn’t have to leave”

“I um-“ you began to take a step back stumbling over your own words.

“I had to because-“

“Because what?” He asked as he took a step forward.

“Because Tommy and-“

“You scared of my brother?” He tilted his head, a slight smirk appearing on his lips.

“No” you responded defensively.

“Ya want me to leave?”

“No” a faint whisper escaping your lips as he took another step inside your room closing the door behind him. Slowly taking the book from your grasp and putting it aside, his eyes never leaving yours he closed the distance between you.

“Joel-“

“Shh” he whispered softly as he leaned in and kissed you gently with his arm wrapping around your waist. Your hands falling on his chest slowly brushing up his shoulders as he began to lead you to where you slept. Joel kissed you eagerly, his hands squeezing every part of you until you felt him reach between your bodies and unbutton your pants.

“I don’t think we should..” you whispered.

“I won’t” he responded leaving you with confusion. But you didn’t say a word as you lay back on the bed and watched him pull your pants off. His eyes instantly becoming distracted with your soaked underwear sticking against your lips. Standing between your legs he swallowed silently before he began to unbutton his pants- something you were expecting but became more hesitant for. Reality setting in knowing this was something you definitely should not have been doing. What if Tommy returned looking for him? Or looking for you?

“Joel..” you whispered, he pushed his pants and underwear down as his cock sprung out.

“I just wanna feel you-“ he whispered, one hand closing around his shaft while the other hand unexpectedly pulled you to the edge of the bed.

“I-“

“I ain’t gonna put it in, I’m just-“ he spoke in a trance as he began sliding himself up against your drenched panties. You could feel how big he was, how hard he was. He watched as your body began to squirm with excitement, your moans pushing him to push himself against you faster. The feel of your pussy lips against his cock making him sweat. His hands tightening on your waist as he watched your arch your back and closed your eyes. Joel wanted to feel more, his cock pulsating as he pulled your panty aside and let his bare cock slide up against your warmth.

“Oh-“ your eyes opened. His breathing was heavy, his brows furrowed as he focused on his cock sliding against your cunt. He continued to tease you in a way you had never been teased. In that moment you wanted to feel him inside you, Joel fought himself with every ounce of strength he had. Hearing you whimper and dig your nails into the covers beside you only making it harder for him.

“I know baby, I know-“ he cried out as he moved faster before unexpectedly slipping inside you. You gasped as he pressed his lips together with a groan at the first feel of being inside you. Neither of you saying a word as he locked eyes with you and continued to fuck you, neither of you caring about anyone else or anything in that moment. Taking in the deep feel of pleasure together as one.

“This what you like to read about huh?” He panted as his finger tips pressed into your thighs.

“You’re one naughty- naughty girl” he bit into his bottom lip moving faster as your moans grew louder. Holding onto the bed you could feel it move with each thrust he made. Grabbing onto your own breasts as a burst of pleasure exploded within you, you screamed out in relief. Watching you cum as you touched yourself made Joel tense up. Holding himself as long as he could, quickly he pulled out just as his cum spilled out of him. Cumming on top of your underwear his knees almost giving out as his hips jerked once more uncontrollably.

“Oh my god-“ you panted as he leaned over you as cum continued to spill from him.

“Shit” he whispered knowing damn well what he had just done. Breaking his brothers trust was something he never liked to do, fucking a woman your age was something he never thought he would do. He silently turned away fixing his clothes as you awkwardly cleaned yourself up.

“Tommy is to know nothin’ about this”

“I know” you quickly buttoned your pants.

“Look, I mean it honey-“ he turned to you.

“Ya don’t look at me or talk to me in any kinda way in front of my brother”

“Ok” you spoke softly, the look in your eyes making him feel slight guilt.

“I’m sorry I just-“

“I know. I don’t wanna upset Tommy either…he’s been great to me” you whispered.

“Look, we are two adults. We don’t have to speak of this again” you continued.

Joel silently nodded unsure of what to say yet wanting to say more. But before he allowed himself to, he simply walked out of the room.

Tags (some tags didn’t work so I’m sorry if you don’t see yourself on the list!! Not sure how to fix that)

@l0veang3l @moonpascal @katmoonz @joelsteinfeld @picketniffler @stcrrjoon @itsamandi @starry-eyes-love @theoraekenslover @psychoenergy @joeldjarin @bambisweethearts @baronessvonglitter @mangoslushcrush @guelyury @mynameistokyo @katiemarieeee

[jophiel-shakes]

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summary :: Alastor during a rut

warning :: nsfw

note :: requests are still open

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Alastor isn’t a sexual person by any means.

Don’t get me wrong, he fooled around once or twice in life but in hell there was never a looming pressure to get married or have children.

Despite his aloof attitude towards sex and general romance there is a certain time when his more animalistic side controls him.

These periods happen to be ruts.

Every sinner has to deal with unsavoury things because of their hellish form, Alastor’s is just a unbridled need to have sex.

Of course Alastor tries to survive the ruts in confinement (usually in his radio tower or bedroom), making it clear to everyone that they’d best stay away if they value their lives.

Though there comes a point where dealing with the issue himself doesn’t do the trick.

So he decides to leave his tower in search of a mate.

And you happen to be the perfect find.

On sweeter terms you would’ve been honoured and perhaps even flustered but Alastor’s inky tentacles ripping you from your own room and dragging you into his own was rather alarming to say the least.

His room was hot and dense, Alastor himself loomed like a predator, his horns large and winding whilst his teeth glistened with drool.

It was a sight to behold and you were unsure if you should’ve been horny or terrified.

He’s quick to get in your personal space, scenting you immediately.

He asks to strike up a deal;

“How about a deal?” Alastor croons, sliding his hands down your back as he mumbles in your ear.

You clear your throat and try to mentally solve his mixed signals. “What for?”

“I’ll do you a favour, anything you want at any given moment. In return, you offer me your… company.”

You take it of course, to have a favour from Alastor was a great deal and you’d be helping him through his rut. Everyone wins.

Despite Alastor’s strong belief in acting as a gentleman most of his manners are thrown away once you shake hands.

He’s immediately buried himself into your body, inhaling your smell and pressing himself into you.

First, he takes you against the wall, being far too eager to move to his bed.

His talons graze your skin, pulling you into him with a desperate tightness.

One would’ve imagined sex with Alastor as sweeter and gentle, but whilst in a rut he’s got unbelievable stamina that he uses to split you.

Biting biting biting. Alastor can’t help but taste you. It’s a cannibalistic tendency, but he never takes a chunk out of you. Do expect him to draw blood though.

When in a rut he prefers to take you from behind. Mostly he likes to trap you between him and something else like a wall.

During the end of his rut when things have cooled, he’ll take it smoother and actually make love to you.

Though, when he’s in the heat of it it’s nothing but quickies and rough sex.

Alastor goes for multiple rounds, usually three before you tap out or someone interrupts. Generally he could go longer.

Alastor will not cum anywhere but inside you. He’s mentioned in passing that the feeling of cumming inside helps settle him more.

No one in the hotel knows of your affair, well, apart from Angel who could practically smell the daily quickies on you, see it in your flushed face and frizzed hair. Husk was a close second who’s seen Alastor in a isolated rut before. Angel then spread it to everyone else.

Nifty knew too, being the little creep she is, she mentioned to you her habit of listening in.

Despite most having heard you yelp his name at night, Alastor just pretends nothing ever happened and nobody dares mention it to him.

Although you do cop a lot of teasing from Angel.

Once things settle down and Alastor gets the frustrations out of his system, everything goes back to normal. Your bite marks heal and everyone settles.

That is, until his next rut.

[pucked-bunnie]

home sweet home ⎜q.hughes

pairings: quinn hughes x fem!OC (rae noelle) genre: romance ⎜established relationship ⎜ famous FMC⎜ warnings: quinn is a jealous boy ⎜ misunderstanding ⎜ otherwise not much ⎜this was just a little big silly and goofy synopsis: quinn decides to bring his girlfriend home for the first time to meet his family - he doesn't expect the attention she brings to go so bad so quickly. word count: 4.5k authors note:  this was requested by a reader who wants to stay anonymous but i hope they enjoy it! and I hope I did their idea justice! this is also my first time writing with an OC so sorry if it's a bit awkward

(unedited)

+

+

“So is your girlfriend coming or not?” Quinn rolls his eyes as Jack keeps firing his questions - the middle brother still uncertain that Quinn was telling the truth about his “girlfriend”. 

“She said she’ll be here in a few minutes - work ran late.” Quinn responds, stirring the pasta sauce on the stove, trying not to smile at the thought of finally having you here with him for the rest of the summer with the break in your filming schedule.  

“So what does she do for work?” Jack questions again, his chin nestled in his palm as he watches his older brother cook dinner - unable to avoid noticing the grin growing on his brothers face as he continues asking questions. The only reason Jack hadn’t stopped bothering his older brother was because he knew Quinn was down bad as he was going to milk it or all it was worth. 

“She works in media.” Quinn says quickly, his gaze shooting away from the pasta sauce down to his phone as it lets out a high pitched ding. 

“Is that her? Is she here?” Jack questions perking up from his spot at the counter, watching his older brother read the text message with a knowing grin. Quinn just nods before he takes off towards the front door, wanting to beat his little brother and avoid his family scaring off his girlfriend. 

Quinn reached the front door just as Jack darted after him.

"Quinn, wait! I need to meet this mysterious media mogul," Jack said, smirking. 

Quinn shot him a warning glance over his shoulder. "Stay here, Jack. I mean it."

Jack didn’t bother hiding his laugh as he leaned against the wall near the entrance, ignoring the command entirely.

A moment later, Quinn pulled open the door, and there she was: Rae, dressed in a casual yet effortlessly chic outfit, her hair gleaming in the golden hour light.

“Hey,” Rae said, her warm smile directed at Quinn as she stepped inside. Her eyes lit up when he leaned in to kiss her, but the sound of a poorly suppressed snort nearby made her pause.

“So this is Rae,” Jack said, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. “Not bad, Quinn. But I have to say, for someone in ‘media,’ you’ve got—”

Jack stopped mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing as he got a proper look at Rae. Recognition dawned, and his jaw dropped. "Oh my God. You’re Rae Noelle!”

Quinn groaned, running a hand over his face. "Jack, please—"

“No, no, no. Time out,” Jack said, spinning toward his brother. “You didn’t think to mention that your girlfriend is, like, a legit celebrity?” Rae laughed softly, stepping forward to shake Jack’s hand. 

“Hi. You must be Jack. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Jack blinked as he shook her hand. “Not as much as I’ve apparently not heard about you.” Jack looks between the couple, watching as Quinn leans forwards taking the bags from her hands “No, seriously how is this still a secret?” 

Before Rae could respond, Luke’s voice echoed from the living room. “What’s going on? Who’s at the door?” He appeared a second later, a soda can in hand, only to stop short when he saw Rae. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “Wait a minute... You’re the woman from that magazine Mom has on the coffee table! The tiktoker!”

“Singer, actually,” Rae corrected gently, her smile patient.

“Singer and tiktoker,” Jack interjected, still looking at Rae like she’d stepped out of a movie poster. “Quinn, how the hell did you pull this?”

Quinn groaned louder this time. “Can we not do this right now? Rae just got here, and we’re supposed to have dinner as a family, not interrogate her.” Rae placed a calming hand on Quinn’s arm. 

“It’s okay,” she said with a soft laugh. “I’m used to it.” She turned back to Jack and Luke, her tone teasing. “We’re both incredibly good at keeping secrets.” Rae continues to tease, watching the two younger brothers mouths drop open. 

Jack blinked again, still processing. “This is insane. Rae Noelle, sitting in my kitchen. Does Mom know about this?”

“Just Rae.” She corrects him gently. 

“She will soon,” Luke yells excitedly in response to the middle brother, already pulling out his phone to text their mother. 

Quinn lunged toward him. “Don’t you dare, Luke!” The kitchen erupted into chaos as Luke laughed and darted away, phone in hand, with Quinn chasing after him. Rae watched the scene unfold with amused disbelief, turning to Jack.

“Is it always like this with them?”

Jack grinned. “Oh, you have no idea. Welcome to the family.”

Rae chuckled softly, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter. “Thanks. I think.”

The clatter of feet and the sound of Quinn’s frustrated groans echoed through the house as he chased Luke, who was laughing like a maniac and shouting, “Mom’s gonna flip when she sees this!”

Jack stayed put, watching the chaos with a smirk. “You know,” he said, turning to Rae, “this might be the first time I’ve ever seen Quinn this... flustered. Usually, he’s the calm, collected one.”

“Oh?” Rae questions with a raised brow, her arms crossing over her chest as she watches the two brothers continue to play cat and mouse throughout the house. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him calm at home.” She chuckles barely noticing the slight surprise in Jack’s face as her words. 

“Home?” He questions to himself softly, looking over at the celebrity in his entryway, her eyes watching her boyfriend fondly as it all clicks into place, “This isn’t a new thing is it?” He questions, his grin growing as Rae’s eyes shoot over to him, her lips tilted upwards in a sheepish grin. 

“He made me promise not to say.” She chuckles. 

The commotion in the hallway died down as Quinn reappeared, looking frazzled but victorious, Luke trailing behind him with a sheepish grin and no phone in sight.

“Crisis averted,” Quinn said, exhaling as he ran a hand through his hair. “Mom is not finding out like this. At least not yet.”

Rae gave him an amused look. “You do realise she’s going to find out eventually, right?”

Quinn groaned. “Yeah, but I was hoping to ease her into it. Preferably without Luke live-streaming it to the family group chat.”

Luke raised his hands defensively. “No live stream. I promise. Just... maybe a photo later?” Rae head is already nodding yes, shooting the youngest a soft smile as she watches her boyfriend turn to his brother with a glare. “I swear I won’t post it anywhere.” He says, throwing his hands up defensively. 

Quinn sighed, knowing he was fighting a losing battle. "Fine. One photo. Later. After dinner. And only if Rae agrees." Luke grinned triumphantly, while Jack shook his head, still marvelling at the situation. 

“Man, this summer just got a whole lot more interesting.”

Dinner turned into a lively affair, the kind of evening where the air buzzed with overlapping conversations, laughter, and the occasional teasing. Rae fit right in, her quick wit and easy laugh earning her the approval of Jack and Luke. Even Quinn couldn’t hide how much he loved having her there, sneaking glances at her as she joked with his brothers.

After dinner, the four of them moved outside to sit by the fire pit, the sun dipping below the horizon and casting the yard in hues of orange and pink. Luke had insisted on roasting marshmallows, which turned into a chaotic competition of who could make the “perfect golden brown.” Rae surprised everyone by nailing it on her first try.

“Beginner’s luck,” Jack muttered, his own marshmallow charred on one side.

“I don’t know,” Rae teased, holding up her perfectly toasted treat. “I think it’s just raw talent.”

Luke laughed so hard he nearly dropped his skewer. “She’s already my favourite.” 

Quinn leaned back in his chair, arms crossed but with a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Mine too.”

The evening wound down as the stars began to dot the sky. Jack and Luke shared embarrassing childhood stories about Quinn, much to Rae’s delight, Quinn equally sharing all the the stories he could think of about the younger brothers until their cheeks were flushing a soft pink, the two of them begging him to stop. 

The next few days followed a similar rhythm.

 Mornings were slow and lazy, Rae joining Quinn for coffee on the porch while his brothers slept in. Afternoons were filled with lake trips, group games, and many movies - borderline too many. 

By the third day, it was as though Rae had always been part of the family. Jack stopped gawking every time she entered the room, though he still teased Quinn mercilessly about “dating up.” Luke, meanwhile, had become Rae’s shadow, constantly asking questions about her career and how to go viral on TikTok.

Quinn watched it all unfold with quiet satisfaction. Rae had not only handled his brothers’ antics with grace but had also managed to connect with them in a way that felt genuine. 

It was everything he’d hoped for and more.

On the fourth day, the summer rhythm hit its stride. Rae had settled into the family dynamic seamlessly, waking up to Quinn’s sleepy smile and coffee brewed just how she liked it. By mid-morning, the house came alive with the sounds of Jack and Luke’s antics—bickering about what game to play, who got the last pancake, or who was the best at trivia.

That afternoon, they all headed down to the lake. The warm sun glinted off the water as Jack and Luke immediately dove in, splashing each other like kids. Rae sat on the edge of the dock with Quinn, dipping her toes in the cool water.

“You know,” she said, leaning back on her hands, “I think I’ve laughed more in the past few days than I have in months.”

Quinn glanced at her, his features softening. “That’s what summers here do. It’s different—quieter. Grounding.”

She nodded, her gaze following Jack and Luke as they challenged each other to see who could hold their breath the longest. “It’s been good for me. And for you too, I think.”

Quinn smiled, leaning over to kiss her temple. “Yeah. It’s been really good.”

That night, as everyone lounged on the porch under a blanket of stars, the conversation turned sentimental. Jack, for all his teasing, spoke up first. “I gotta say, Rae, I didn’t think you’d stick around after the first day with us. We’re... a lot.”

Rae smiled softly, her hand resting on Quinn’s. “You’re a lot in the best way. Honestly, this feels like home.”

Luke, half-asleep in a hammock, muttered, “You’re way too cool for Quinn.”

“I heard that,” Quinn said, chuckling.

“Doesn’t make it less true,” Luke shot back, his eyes still closed.

Everyone laughed, the sound echoing into the quiet summer night. Quinn squeezed Rae’s hand, his heart full as he looked at her surrounded by his family.

As the night stretched on and the others began to drift inside, Quinn and Rae stayed behind, the porch swing swaying gently beneath them.

“You really meant it, didn’t you?” Quinn asked, his voice quiet in the stillness.

Rae tilted her head. “Meant what?”

“When you said this felt like home.”

She looked up at him, her gaze steady and full of warmth. “I did.”

Quinn’s smile was slow and genuine. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

Rae leaned into him, her head resting against his shoulder. “I have an idea.”

“My mum and dad are coming over tomorrow, for the fourth.” Quinn adds suddenly his eyes trained on their joined hands, his thumb rubbing absentminded circles on the back of her hand. “You’ll be meeting them for the first time.” He adds. 

“Are you nervous?” She asks, glancing up at him as he shakes his head. 

“I just want you to like them — I want them to be as much my family as they are yours.” He says softly, bringing her hands up to press a gentle kiss against the back of her hand. 

“Quinn how could I not love them? They gave me you didn’t they?” Rae responds, watching her boyfriend falter, his fingers squeezing hers as he just nods, his words caught in his throat. “Something about us in this swing is very domestic, don’t you think.” She notes, changing the subject as Quinn clears his throat, the tips of his ears burning as he nods along. 

“You’d make a cute old lady.” Quinn agrees as Rae lets out a scoff of laughter. 

“Well, I think you’d be a pretty ugly old lady.” Rae jokes back, watching as Quinn shoots her a playful glare, his posture getting ready to lunge as she shoves herself away from the swing, just making it out of Quinn’s grasp. 

“You can run, but you can’t hide.” She hears Quinn call from behind her. 

+

+

“Morning.” Rae coos as she walks into the kitchen, her sky blue summer dress swinging around her ankles as she sidles up besides Quinn at the counter, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Anything I can help with, baby?” She questions, Quinn quickly shaking his head. 

“Nope, you just go and relax, the guests will be here in a few hours.” He notes, Rae’s eyebrows furrowing as she pouts softly. 

“C’mon give me something to do.” She sighs, “I’m going to die from boredom if I keep ‘just relaxing’” She continues, putting air quotations around her words. 

“Okay, fine—if you can head into town with Jack to pick up the cake, that would be great,” Quinn finally says, giving in with a playful smirk. He grabs a dish towel to dry his hands as Rae lights up with excitement.

“Done!” she chirps, spinning on her heel and heading toward the door. “Let me grab my purse!”

“Jack’s already outside,” Quinn calls after her. “Try not to kill each other before you get back, alright?” Rae sticks her tongue out at him before disappearing down the hall.

Outside, Jack leans against the shiny black SUV, scrolling through his phone with one hand and holding a coffee cup in the other. When he spots Rae walking toward him, his lips curl into a smirk.

“Well, if it isn’t Her Royal Highness,” he greets, mock bowing as she approaches.

Rae rolls her eyes. “And if it isn’t my trusty chauffeur,” she retorts, opening the passenger door and tossing her purse inside.

Jack straightens and grins. “Trusty? That’s a first.”

She scoffs, settling into the seat. “Don’t push your luck. You’re only here because Quinn refused to let me do this on my own.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack replies, climbing into the driver’s seat. “Let’s just pick up the cake so you can stop bossing me around.”

“Not likely,” Rae quips. The drive into town is lively, with Rae critiquing Jack’s playlist the entire way.

“Seriously? Another eighties rock song?” she groans as the intro to yet another ballad blasts through the speakers.

Jack gasps dramatically. “You did not just insult Bon Jovi.”

“I did. And I’ll do it again,” Rae teases, reaching for the volume knob.

Jack swats her hand away. “You have no taste.”

“Says the man who’s apparently trapped in a time warp,” Rae fires back.

Their banter continues until they pull into the small parking lot outside the bakery. It’s a quaint little shop with pastel-coloured awnings and a display window filled with intricately decorated cakes and pastries.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Rae says, hopping out of the car.

Jack trails behind her, taking his time as he sips his coffee. “You act like this is a chore. It’s cake, Rae. Cake is sacred.”

“Then maybe you should carry it,” she shoots back over her shoulder.

The bell above the bakery door jingles as they step inside, greeted by the sweet scent of sugar and frosting. Rae heads straight to the counter to confirm the order, while Jack lingers by a shelf of macarons, examining them like he’s never seen dessert before.

“Hi, I’m here to pick up an order for Quinn,” Rae says with a friendly smile.

The baker nods, disappearing into the back.

Jack sidles up beside her, holding a macaron in one hand. “Think they’ll notice if I steal this?”

Rae gives him a withering look. “You’re not stealing from a bakery, Jack.”

“It’s not stealing if I eat it before they catch me,” he replies, popping it into his mouth before she can protest.

Before Rae can chastise him further, a group of teenagers outside catches her eye. They’re huddled together, staring through the window and whispering excitedly.

“Oh no,” she mutters under her breath, ducking slightly.

“What?” Jack asks, his mouth still full of macaron.

“I think we’ve been spotted,” Rae says, nodding toward the window.

Jack follows her gaze and smirks as the teens pull out their phones, snapping pictures. “Ah, the price of fame.”

“Ugh, why today?” Rae groans, rubbing her temples.

Jack’s grin widens. “Relax, Rae. It’s just a few fans. Smile and wave. Or better yet…” He casually slings an arm around her shoulders, leaning in like they’re posing for a photo.

The teens outside erupt in squeals, and Rae’s face flushes crimson. “Jack!” she hisses, shrugging his arm off.

“What?” he says, feigning innocence. “They already think we’re a thing. Might as well give them what they want.”

“Do you have any sense of shame?” Rae snaps, glaring at him.

“None whatsoever,” Jack replies with a cheeky grin. Before Rae can argue further, the baker returns with a pristine white box tied neatly with a ribbon. Rae thanks her quickly, eager to escape the attention, while Jack picks up the box with exaggerated care.

“Don’t drop it,” Rae warns as they head back to the car, the group of teens still snapping photos and whispering loudly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jack replies, shooting the fans a wink as they pass.

By the time they’re back in the SUV, Rae slumps into her seat, groaning. “Great. Just great. Now the internet’s going to think we’re a couple.”

Jack chuckles as he starts the car. “Hey, maybe Quinn will get a kick out of it.”

“Or maybe he’ll use it as an excuse to never send us on errands together again,” Rae mutters.

Jack glances at her with a playful grin. “You know, we’d make a pretty convincing couple.”

“Drive, Jack,” Rae deadpans, turning her attention to the window. Jack puts the car into drive but pauses for a moment, his head shooting to look over at the girl besides him. 

“I never payed for the macaron.” He yelps, his hand slapping against his forehead, “I really did steal from a bakery.” 

“Goddamn it, Jack.” Rae sighs, but she can’t help the smile that grows on her face. 

+

+

When they returned to the house, Rae carried the cake into the kitchen while Jack immediately flopped onto the couch, scrolling through his phone. Quinn looked up from his spot by the counter, smiling at Rae.

“Did everything go smoothly?” he asked, reaching out to take the cake from her and set it on the table.

“Define ‘smoothly,’” Rae muttered, shooting Jack a glare. Quinn’s brow furrowed, but before he could ask, Jack let out a low whistle from the living room. “There was an small hiccup at the bakery but it’s really not a bi—” 

“Well, would you look at that,” Jack drawled, holding up his phone. “Rae and I made the headlines.”

“What are you talking about?” Quinn asked, his tone sharpening as he crossed the room to snatch the phone from Jack’s hand. His expression darkened as he stared at the screen. The paparazzi images were crystal clear: Rae laughing as Jack leaned into her outside the bakery, his arm slung around her shoulders. The caption read: "Rae Noelle Spotted with NHL Player in Michigan - New Hot Couple Alert.” 

Quinn’s jaw tightened, and his eyes flicked up to Jack, then to Rae. “Care to explain this?” he asked, his glare focused on Jack, his voice clipped.

Rae stepped forward, her expression softening. “Quinn, it’s not what it looks like. Some fans spotted us, and Jack—” She shot Jack another glare. “—decided to play it up for the cameras.” Jack shrugged, unbothered. 

“What? It’s not my fault they assumed we’re a couple.” Jack sinks further into the couch as the couple send him another annoyed look. Quinn’s gaze lingered on Rae for a moment, her hand reaching up to gently rub his arm, his expression unreadable, before he turned back to Jack. 

“You couldn’t have just ignored them?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Jack replied with a grin, but it faltered under Quinn’s glare. Rae let out a long sigh as she watches the two brothers in a stare off before linking her fingers with Quinn’s pulling him away from his younger brother. 

“Please don’t be mad, it was a joke and I can call my publicist to get it all sorted out.” She says quickly, Quinn nodding his head letting out a soft breath as he steps forwards, leaning his forehead against her shoulder, their hands still linked at their side. “But Quinn maybe now is the right time to just get it all out there — no more misunderstandings.” She whispers, raising her free hand to brush through his soft curls. 

“Yeah, maybe.” Quinn sighs, pulling away and giving her a tense smile before leaving back towards the kitchen. 

The rest of the day passed in a blur of preparations. Quinn and Rae worked together to decorate the dining room, stringing fairy lights across the ceiling and arranging bouquets of wildflowers in mason jars. Jack, under strict orders from Quinn, helped set up the outdoor seating area, though he complained loudly the entire time.

“Why do we even need this many chairs?” Jack grumbled, dragging another folding chair into place. “Half these people aren’t going to sit down anyway.”

“Because,” Quinn said patiently, adjusting a tablecloth, “some of us actually plan ahead for our guests. Unlike you, who once hosted a barbecue with no plates.”

“They had hands,” Jack shot back. “Plates are overrated.” Rae snickered, walking by with a tray of candles.

“Remind me to never let you host anything again.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the first guests began to arrive. The house quickly filled with the sound of laughter and music, the warm glow of the lights reflecting off glasses of wine and cider. Rae flitted between groups, making sure everyone had drinks and saying brief hello’s to most of the families star-struck friends.

Quinn watched her from across the room, a soft smile playing on his lips. She looked radiant, her laughter lighting up the space more than any string of lights could - kindly welcoming the overwhelming amount of photo requests. 

“She’s good at this,” Jack said, sidling up next to him. His tone was light, but there was a note of something deeper—approval, maybe.

“She is,” Quinn agreed, his voice steady. 

Jack studied him for a moment before speaking again. “Look, I know I can be... a lot. But you know I wouldn’t actually do anything to mess things up for you two, right?” Quinn just nods, his gaze still trialing his girlfriend around the party, “She’s perfect for you, Quinn, seriously.” 

Quinn’s gaze shifted to him, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he nodded. “I know. But maybe just try to avoid dating scandals with my girlfriend.”

Jack grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “You got it, big brother.”

The rest of the evening was perfect—almost. Quinn found himself watching Rae a little too closely, his mind circling back to those photos. 

He trusted her, of course, but the way the media twisted things left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Could this happen with anyone? 

Would this keep happening as long as they were private? 

As the last guests trickled out and the house quieted, Rae sank onto the couch with a tired sigh. Quinn joined her, handing her a glass of water. She smiled up at him, her eyes soft with gratitude.

“Thanks. I needed that,” she said, taking a sip.

He hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Baby, about earlier…”

She set the glass down, her brow furrowing. “Quinn, you don’t have to—”

“I do,” he interrupted gently. “I know it wasn’t your fault, but seeing those pictures… I guess I realised how much I hate the idea of people thinking you could be with anyone but me.”

Her expression softened, and she reached for his hand. “You shouldn’t worry about that, it’ll be taken care of if it happens again.”

His thumb brushed over her knuckles, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I know. I just… maybe I don’t want it to happen again.” Rae’s eyebrows lift as she tilts her head in confusion, her stomach dropping at the potential way the conversation should lead. 

“Loving someone this much,” he admitted, his voice low. “It’s terrifying.”Rae’s heart squeezed at the vulnerability in his tone. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, patiently waiting for him to break the bad news. “I think we should—” Rae can’t help the way she zones out, her teeth digging into her lip as she feels the lump grow in her throat. 

Shit, this was it. 

He was breaking up with her. 

“Rae? Baby, are you listening?” Her head shoots back to look at Quinn, his brows furrowed, his free hand lifting to wipe away the small tear rolling down her cheek. “We don’t have to do an instagram post if you want to do something more offical.” He says quickly, his eyes panicked as he adds, “Maybe we should talk with you PR team and see what they think.” 

“Wait, what?” Rae chokes out, he tears stopping almost immediately as she focuses in on what Quinn was saying. 

“What?” Quinn asks back equally confused. 

“You’re not breaking up with me?” 

“What the fuck.” Quinn reels back not understanding how the conversation had ended up here, he thought he was being pretty clear. “I said maybe we should do one of those hard launch instagram posts — you thought I was breaking up with you? Over this?” 

“Don’t make fun of me.” She whines, dropping her head into her hands, letting out a soft chuckle, “I’ve been broken up with for less.” 

“Well you’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future. My family likes you too much to let you go” Quinn chuckles, reaching over and pulling her into his arms, pressing soft kisses against her hair as she lets out another embarrassed groan. They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other’s warmth, before Jack’s voice broke the silence.

“Ugh, if you two are gonna get all mushy, at least warn me so I can leave.”

Quinn groaned, pulling back just enough to glare at his brother. “Don’t you have dishes to do?”

Jack held up his hands in surrender, backing out of the room. “Fine, fine. But next time, keep it PG in the common areas.” Rae laughed, resting her head on Quinn’s shoulder. 

“He’s never going to change, is he?”

“Probably not,” Quinn said, his lips brushing her hair again. “But now you have to deal with it too.”

[dalliancekay]

Aziraphale, misogyny and the female character treatment

I don't know if anyone wrote a post about this but I see from time to time comments to this end - that Aziraphale is treated like the female leads in films often are, obviously especially romantic films. So I'm gonna try to point how I see this. I welcome further insights of course.

Say we take a basic premise of a romantic film: A girl is wooed by a bad boy for example. And she is a good girl, from a good, proper family and everything so she refuses his advances. This goes on through his various ploys to entertain and romance her, do things for her etc etc and frustrates us as the audience because we can see the bad boy is actually good, her family is oppressive and holding her back and that she (deep down) cares for him (if only she was brave enough to admit it to herself) and so we want her to open her eyes and say she is actually in love with him cos her life will be so much better should she (finally) give in and run away with him.

Familiar? Reasons Aziraphale is not her and the analogy does not fit (but that I so often see in metas and takes about her):

Aziraphale always knew her family is shit. Or at least longer than Crowley did. She was already anxious in Before the Beginning about what she thought Angel!Crowley could and could not say or do without getting into trouble.

She knows Crowley is good. She never doubted him. Whatever he says or does or pretends to do or must do for his job. Aziraphale knows he's inherently good and would always do good if he can.

She knows she's in love - I mean we can argue about when each realised this and also when each realised the other loves them back just as fiercely, but they both know. And they both love. And they both long to be together. Aziraphale is not ashamed of her feelings nor hiding or suppressing them for fear they are wrong or immoral or other BS like that.

Aziraphale doesn't need to overcome her love for her family/employer and finally make the leap to be with Crowley. They simply can't leave their bosses without punishment. Neither of them. They live in a dictatorship with nowhere to go. And just because Crowley experienced both sides, doesn't give him some huge insight that Aziraphale completely lacks. Both places are awful. Their separation isn’t about fear of societal judgment (or Aziraphale's unwillingness to give up Heaven, being seen as good, being an angel - and to what end, to Fall? I really don't know what takes like this want from her, it would not work anyway), it’s about survival in a system that won’t let them be together.

Aziraphale doesn't want to change Crowley. She never did. She asked for Crowley to come to Heaven as an angel because that was THE ONLY option she had for them to be together in any capacity at that point. It was NOT an attempt to “fix” him—it was a desperate bid for a way they could be together at all.

One thing I don't see as much anymore is the call for Aziraphale to change. Obviously she's pretty but she would be prettier if she lost those century old clothes maybe and started listening to something made after 1950? Be more cool to match Crowley? Less stuffy?

These kind of film premises are already pointless, offensive and make me roll my eyes, but to stick them all over Aziraphale and huff cos she doesn't do what the clever sexy man in dark clothes and sunglasses says she should - well that makes me angry.

And so do takes and mischaracterisations that ignore Aziraphale as silly, her worries as pointless, sometimes excessive - maybe she's just hysterical, you know? The one time she shows more emotion, in F15, she is so often completely ignored in her obvious distress just because Crowley is trying to confess his love at the same time and seemingly 'not getting through,' because Aziraphale is not reacting the way everyone expects. So many takes that always assume Crowley is right, no matter what. Even when he calls Aziraphale an idiot. If Crowley says that, it must be true. No matter that the book spells out in Terry's voice that the angel is extremely clever.

Aziraphale’s charm lies in her kindness, her love for books and knowledge, her whimsy, and her quiet courage. These qualities don’t make her naive—they make her resilient. She often hides how she truly feels, hides her grief, her pain, her true desires, hides what she really thinks; always always to protect herself and her beloved. She is often forced to say stuff she doesn't mean. Again. To keep the one she loves and their fragile relationship safe. But where people seem to catch on with that on Crowley's side, they don't with Aziraphale. She is fierce when pushed and will defend the defenceless (humans) and the ones she loves (Crowley) to her last breath (whether she needs to breathe is irrelevant right now okay).

She loves her bookshop. She built this home, full of knowledge for herself and her demon and you can take this HC from my cold hands. That she was forced to leave it, only emphasises how little choice she had in Final 15. Good Omens has two main, equal characters; who are both gorgeous and complex and deep and neither is right or wrong or in need of saving or learning some huge lesson to get to their goal and be together. What needs to change is the world, the system they live in. And they will change it.

Just look at her!! Anyway. I love her. P.S. Just to add, many, many (if not all) bad takes on Aziraphale are also bad takes on Crowley. They mischaracterise and misunderstand just how deeply and unconditionally he loves Aziraphale. How he adores her and understands and accepts her just as she is. He does not expect or want Aziraphale to change in any way. He knows why they are not together. And it's not Aziraphale's fault, it's because of circumstances, not because of her choices. Crowley would never ever want Aziraphale to suffer, he wouldn't expect her to come back from Heaven saying how sorry she is for what happened, how stupid and blind she was and how he was always right. That's just not going to happen. ------------------------------------------ @tenok I simply must highlight the awesomeness you put in hashtags!! EVERYBODY please read:

Thank you sm for this!!