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flowerandblood · 5 months ago

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Play with my heart (2/3)

[ modern actors • Aemond x Strong • female ]

[ warnings: masturbation, kissing, sexual tension, eavesdropping, discomfort associated with the loss of an eye, remorse, doubts, anxiety, unprofessional behavior ]

[ description: He gets the main role in a series about a great family and dragons, which could change his career. He is set to play the uncle and love interest of his childhood friend. When he meets the actress who plays her role, he begins to lose track of what is an acting and what is his real feelings. Sexual tension, grumpy, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: Yeah. I talked about it and I did it. You don't even know how much fun I had doing this. Of course, my characters play in a series whose script is an exact copy of my story The Fall from the Heavens. In this universe, Aemond (playing the One-Eyed Prince) and Rhaenys (playing the Princess) are of course not related – the other characters are also just actors. This three-part series is my gift to all fans of the original series, thank you so much for your support. "Rhaenys" in this story is her artistic pseudonym which she use instead of her real name.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

After filming the scene, they rose from the bed as if nothing had happened. The director complimented her acting, saying that she was able to wonderfully portray both the innocence and temptation her character evoked. She smiled at him as he unscrewed the water bottle and took a sip from it, walking towards him.

"They say the beginnings are the hardest." She said softly, looking around, waiting for the director to review again what they had managed to record and decide if anything needed to be repeated.

"Mmm." He hummed, taking another sip of water, feeling uncomfortable now that he was standing in front of her without a script, not knowing what to say.

They stood side by side in awkward silence for a while, looking at their director – he finally said that he liked everything and they would now shoot the scene where the Prince wakes her up in the middle of the night, dragging her out of her chamber after returning from Storm's End.

When he returned to his hotel room he collapsed on his bed, tired but also content. He felt ashamed that he had forgotten the line and at the same time he was grateful that his partner on set had helped him and been supportive, warm and understanding.

He didn't know how he felt about getting aroused during the scene of them kissing – he wondered where the limit of method acting was and whether he had gotten that much into his character or whether it was something else.

He decided he wouldn't think about it, and as long as they played their parts well, nothing else mattered.

The next day there was a big breakfast together in the hotel restaurant. At the table sat the director and his deputies, the writers, producers, actors, stylists and the many other people who contributed to this gigantic production.

She smiled at him from afar and waved at him, sitting at the table in her hair tied up in a braid, on her body only a T-shirt with the Pokemon logo and yellow tracksuit shorts.

He swallowed quietly, putting his hands in his trouser pockets, and sat down next to her, greeting her and everyone else along the way, unsure of how to act. Aegon sitting on the other side of the table extended his hand to him and he shook it.

"– how are you two doing? – you already have some passionate scenes behind you, right? – he's hot, isn't he? –" He asked her partner with amusement, who laughed out loud, trying to turn his question into a joke.

"– everyone here is beautiful and talented – I'm in heaven –" She said softly, deftly avoiding answering. Aegon laughed at her words and stretched in his chair, yawning loudly, losing interest in the subject.

He reached for the cheese toast, watching out of the corner of his eye as her hands placed the pancakes on her plate, which she covered next with pouring chocolate. She lifted her gaze to him and smiled at him warmly as their gazes met – he turned his face away, feeling like a mute, his heart stuck in his throat.

Why was he acting like an idiot in front of her?

It seemed to him that she took his silence as a signal that he simply wanted to eat his breakfast in peace, so she spoke animatedly to the woman to her right, Alys Rivers, who was to play the Witch of Harrenhal.

Aegon was talking to him across the table, mentioning something about their shared scene with him and Helaena. He nodded, sipping his toast with a gulp of coffee, absorbed in his thoughts, for some reason returning to their kiss.

He'd kissed many women in his career before, but this time it was something different.

He thought she was an excellent young actress.

In the following scenes they played he saw her in a gown for the first time. He thought she looked like some immortal elf in it, beautiful and light, a warm, gentle smile directed towards him on her face.

Her gown consisted of two colours – her long, floor-length sleeves were red, and the material hugging her breasts, hips and waist was light blue. Her shoulders were bare; other than that, she wore no other jewellery, her long hair falling softly down her back, accentuating her long neck.

He swallowed hard, feeling a twinge in his gut for some reason, and turned his face away, sitting down with her at the table where, together with Aegon and Helaena, they played out the scene in which the King informed them that they would be marrying for a second time, this time before the Septon.

They spent the rest of the day in the courtyard, filming shots of them meeting years later, and their conversation after they married, when the Princess came out to speak to him.

He felt a pleasant tingling in his lower abdomen at the thought of kissing her again: to his surprise, cupping her chin and placing a tender, soft kiss on her mouth came to him with ease. Her moist, fleshy lips didn't close against his caress, on the contrary, they parted invitingly, her hand tightening on his wrist.

Encouraged, though it wasn't in the script, he took a step forward and deepened the kiss, lazily brushing her soft mouth with his, her eyes closed, a quiet, sweet sigh left her mouth.

When he pulled away, he met her gaze, warm and misty, her cheeks flushed. He stroked her jaw with his thumb and she surprised him by rising on her toes, kissing the tip of his nose.

He felt his heart pound hard at the thought that this was not in the script.

However, he checked it quickly afterwards as he prepared for the next scene and saw that the director had added it as a suggestion.

He was furious with himself for feeling disappointed.

What was he thinking?

He didn't think it would be a problem for him, but he actually felt discomfort when it was time for them to play the scene where the Prince pulls off his eye patch in front of his beloved.

A new prosthetic eye was created especially for him which looked like a sapphire to represent his character well.

He was to wear it that day instead of his usual artificial left eye.

The sapphire eye was cleaned and prepared for him by the doctor who supervised, staying with him in private in the dressing room, that all was well. The very moment he closed his eyelid and opened it he felt that it was not.

Although its surface was smooth, something was wrong about its shape, rubbing his eye socket, once in a while pressing on a nerve under his skin from which shivers ran through him.

"It will take at least a few days to polish and change it."

He thought with a pursed lips that they didn't have that much time.

The shooting schedule was set to the hour.

He figured he would just get into his character's suffering more than he should.

As he walked onto the set he was met by her warm, comforting smile. He closed his eyes, clamping his fingers on the base of his nose, trying to listen in peace to what their director had to say to them.

"It's a scene of their tenderness, their closeness, at last devoid of subconscious brutality. In that one moment they reclaim each other." He said, and they nodded their heads.

In the original, this was accompanied by a sex scene, but the screenwriters decided that affectionate, passionate kissing would suffice here.

The thought that he would be able to do this to her made his heart pound like crazy, but he couldn't enjoy it: he clenched his eyes again and again, feeling discomfort.

Feeling pain.

For some reason, he thought he deserved it for his inability to be professional, for what they were doing was out of his control.

Rhaenys sat down on the desk and he stepped in front of her, between her thighs, her dark blue dress with exposed shoulders and sleeves reaching the ground perfectly accentuated her graceful figure.

She smiled, placing her hands on his shoulders, his fingers involuntarily running over her waist.

"Action!"

He took a step towards her, cupping her face in his hands, trying to focus only on her gentle gaze, only on her warm breath, only on how soft her skin was, instead of the fact that pain was filling his skull.

"Rhaenys." He whispered tenderly, pleadingly – the discomfort he felt made his words resound as if he was in pain – in pain because of the fact that they were separate.

She blinked, surprised and somehow touched, clearly appreciating his acting, which was only a matter of coincidence. She lifted her hand to his eye patch and he grabbed her wrist violently, her breath stuck in her throat.

"No." He said coldly and closed his eyes, feeling the pain as if a bolt of electricity surged through the left side of his face.

"You're my husband. That's enough." She whispered, wanting to soften her words by taking his face in her hands, making him involuntarily moan in pain. She let go of him, terrified.

"Are you okay?" She asked leaning over him and he nodded his head.

"What's going on?" The director asked them. "We're going to have to repeat the whole scene."

Fuck.

"Are you in pain? Please tell me." She whispered pleadingly and he shook his head.

"No. No, I….FUCK!" He hissed, leaning over, clasping his hand over the left side of his face, feeling such excruciating ache that he felt like ripping off his skin and tearing out all the nerves that were there.

"Call a doctor, he is in pain!" She called out, startling him by pulling the eye patch off his face. He heard her sigh in horror and cover her mouth with her hand, his stomach clenched in discomfort at the thought.

That she saw it.

That she felt disgusted.

"My God, his eye is all swollen up, what have you done to him? Can you take it out? Come." She said, taking his hand, and he walked out of the room with her like a small child, bumping into the doctor on the way.

"I warned him" He said.

"I can stay and help. If you don't mind." She said sitting down next to him on the couch in his dressing room.

He wanted to reply for her to leave, but he only groaned, unable to stand it, and as soon as the doctor had disinfected his hand he removed the sapphire prosthesis from his eye socket.

He did not know why he burst out crying.

He hid his face in his hands, feeling humiliated, thinking that the reason he had been taken for the role was because they hoped they wouldn't have to spend money on expensive CGI, but in fact he had wasted their entire day of filming.

He swallowed hard when he felt her arms embrace his head and let her lean over as she hugged him to her breasts, her pleasant scent, her warm hands stroking his jaw and back.

"Leave us alone for a moment." He heard her voice. The man nodded and said he would fetch an ointment that should soothe the abrasions.

"It would be best if you didn't wear your artificial eye today and let your eye socket rest." The man said.

"Get the FUCK out!" He growled, closing his eyes, thinking it was wonderful news, going around the set with an empty eye.

He thought it was the worst day of his life.

He swallowed hard as her forehead pressed against the top of his head, her gentle hands stroking his face, shoulders and back giving him a feeling of comfort and security.

It was so hard for him, and she was by his side.

"I admire you for holding out for so long. They should have checked that the prosthesis fit earlier, not on the day of filming. It's the production's fault and the director knows that. I'm sure he appreciates your commitment and will reorganise the work." She whispered calmly, as if she wanted to comfort him, and indeed, her words made him feel relieved.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled.

"Don't apologise."

"Can I lay my head on your lap?" He asked in a trembling voice, wondering if his request was disrespectful.

He just wanted to close his eyes for a moment and relax.

"Yes. Yes, of course, come here." She said, turning so that he could lie down.

He turned his head so that she couldn't see his left eye socket and rested his cheek on her thighs, placing his hand on her knee. He closed his eyes and sighed quietly when he felt one of her hands on his shoulder and the other on his cheek, her thumb gently stroking his skin.

There was complete silence between them.

"I got really attached to you, you know? I hope we still keep in touch after the shooting." She whispered making him swallow hard, cold sweat trickling down his neck as he felt his manhood react to her words with an aggressive throbbing.

"Yes." He muttered. "Yes, me too."

He spent the evening in the hotel bar, meant for guests only, feeling reasonably safe there, wanting to ease his mind a little, wearing a thin bandage over his left eye that allowed air to pass through.

He resented himself for being unprofessional, for having his real feelings mixed up with what he was supposed to be playing as a Prince character.

For the first time, he doubted whether he should really be an actor.

His grandfather surprised him by walking up to him from behind, patting him on the back.

"Don't worry about the issue with the artificial eye: it was their fault and the director came to me to apologise for the prosthesis not being tested earlier. You both do a wonderful job on set. The chemistry between you two is palpable and it shows on camera." He said, sitting down next to him at the bar table.

He pressed his lips together at his words, wondering if he should confide in him.

"I don't know myself. I'm confused." He confessed, embarrassed. His grandfather looked at him in surprise as soon as he ordered a double whisky for himself.

"Confused? Because of that girl? It's normal. She's kind and pretty. If you're feeling desire, that's good. Turn it into your acting." He said lightly, however, making him feel not relief but discomfort in his stomach. He stared dully into his glass for a moment, feeling the aggressive pounding of his heart.

"… I'm not sure if what's going on inside my head is good." He said in a trembling voice. His grandfather hummed under his breath, taking a sip from the glass the man had placed in front of him.

"As usual, you think too much. Even if… well, something happens between you two, one or two nights, it's nothing terrible. On set it happens all the time. The tension is high and you have to find an outlet for it somewhere." He said.

He got up from his seat and just left, feeling that he had made him sick.

He didn't agree with him, and he didn't think that using her to get off sexually was a normal thing to do.

She was young, younger than him, still filled with enthusiasm and naivety.

He didn't want to be one of those men who would take advantage of that, seduce her and then leave her humiliated as soon as the shooting was over, saying it was just a fun.

He had casual sex with actresses, but never with those he worked with directly. Nothing came of it because their paths quickly diverged and he didn't have the desire or strength for a long-distance relationship.

He didn't care.

He took a shower, brushed his teeth, changed into a T-shirt and sweatpants and went to bed, trying not to think about the fact that tomorrow they were to play a scene in which he exposes her breasts.

Not all love scenes were left in the script, however, this one was one of them, because it was significant moment – their first real intimacy and reunion after years.

They knew there was enormous pressure on them. He could see it in her face the next day – also dressed in a night gown she was looking down at her fingers, stressed, not a trace of her smile and confidence from the auditions.

He approached her, for some reason feeling that he should comfort her, lift her spirits, let her know that they didn't have to rush.

"– do you want to talk about how we're going to do this? –" He asked quietly and she nodded, unable to even look him in the eye.

"– yes –" She mumbled.

"– so –" He began, feeling for some reason that his heart started pounding like crazy, his hands clenched into fists. "– I'd start with kisses first – on the lips, on the neck, on the shoulders – they're rubbing against each other in this scene because they're feeling arousal, so it would be a good idea to try and mimic similar…movements – then I'll slide your nightgown off your shoulders – we can agree that you will guide my hand yourself when you think you're ready for me to touch you there –" He said quickly, forcing himself to be calm and composed, feeling a cold sweat run down his back.

Why was he so terrified?

He saw that she swallowed hard and nodded, looking up at him and lowering her gaze quickly, red with embarrassment.

"– yes – yes, that's a good idea –" She said and looked at him, her gaze warm, comforting.

Kind.

"– how's your eye? –"

He lowered his gaze, looking down at his boots, embarrassed.

"It's better now. Thank you. For everything. I don't want you to be scared today. Tell me if you feel something is wrong. Okay?" He hummed, and she nodded quickly, giving him a grateful smile.

"– thank you – I will –"

He swallowed heavily when the director told them to take their places. He sat down in a chair and she walked over to him, looking at him questioningly. He nodded, extending his hand to her to help her up, and she sat awkwardly on his thighs. He gently placed his hand on her hip, forcing her to slide closer to his chest, just as scripted.

They both swallowed hard as his manhood pulsed between her thighs under the material of his breeches, touching the material of her flesh-coloured panties, but neither of them said anything.

"– we will take it slow – okay? –" He encouraged her, gently cupping her cheek in his hand, bringing her face close to his. She nodded and smiled warmly at him, as if he had said exactly what she needed to hear.

"– okay –" She said.

Their director nodded at them.

"Let's try to get a feel for it first. This scene is about building tension slowly. If you feel discomfort, speak up, we'll try to do something about it. Ready?" He asked, and they nodded their heads like little children.

"Action!"

Apart from the sizzle of the fire in the fireplace to their right, surrounding their faces with warm light, there was complete silence around them.

He waited a moment before he pulled her face closer to him and his lips tentatively brushed hers in a slow, shy, moist kiss. He felt her body involuntarily move closer to him, her arms closing his neck in an tender embrace.

He felt her soft breasts through the material of his tunic, his hands traveled down her waist to her hip which he began to stroke in a soft, lazy, affectionate motion. She sighed softly into his mouth making his half-hard erection hit the space between her thighs again.

They froze in mid-motion and he was already about to apologise to her, telling her to stop, when this time it was she who leaned in. His voice went dead in his throat as her lips pressed against his, her body rubbing uncertainly against what was beneath her.

Fuck.

He thought as his hips tentatively came out to meet her, pressing what was in his breeches between her thighs, making it swell and pulsate, that this was not a good idea.

He knew she could feel it and that turned him on even more.

Her breath had become heavy and accelerated, their kisses messier, stickier, warmer, his fingers involuntarily dug into the skin of her hips hidden beneath the thin material.

"– uncle –" She mewled into his mouth in a way from which his erection became completely hard, his hand clamped down on her neck, forcing her to stay still as he slid his tongue deep into her throat.

She moaned, startled, gripping his shoulders, rolling her hips back and forth as if in a trance, teasing him deliberately, squeezing his length between his lower abdomen and her body again and again, the tip of her slick tongue licking his.

"– it tickles – here –" She mumbled helplessly, pressing her forehead against his, looking down, between her thighs, watching his bulge twitching in his breeches, which, however, only they could see.

He should have said his line, but instead, completely stunned by her behaviour and smell, he grabbed the material of her nightgown and slid it off her shoulders, snuggling his face between her sweet breasts.

She opened her mouth wide, shocked and moaned, hugging his head to her heart, making his cock throb hard. She took his hand in hers and guided it up, to her breast – he gasped, shocked how good it felt, squeezing tentatively her plump softness with his fingers, placing sticky, wet kisses on her sternum, her hands buried in his hair pressed him tighter against her bare, hot skin.

It seemed to him that she was as shocked by this sensation as he was, for she began to moan quietly – her nipple became hard under his thumb as he began to rub and tease it, his free hand clamped down on her buttock, again and again rubbing his painfully swollen erection against her.

He was turned on.

"Cut! What chemistry, I'm at a loss for words!" The director called out, and he let her go immediately.

She jumped back and got off his lap, inhaling heavily as if she was out of breath, putting the material of her nightgown quickly over her shoulders and breasts, the stylist said something to her and she just nodded, looking at him with big eyes.

He crossed his legs quickly and grunted, covering his mouth with his hand, looking towards the fire, pretending to listen to one of the assistants saying that now that they were all in emotion they would try to film their conversation years later.

Although they tried, neither of them could concentrate and they forgot their lines over and over again.

"What's going on with you two? Do you need a break?" The director asked them, and they replied at the same time that they did.

It frightened him to see her leave immediately, the thought that she might nevertheless have felt uncomfortable, that he had done something that crossed the line for her, but she was afraid to tell him.

He got up and followed her, heading for the rooms where they were changing and getting their make-up done, standing in front of the door with her name on it.

He froze when he heard a strange sound that seemed to him to be a moan of pain. He opened his mouth, wanting to ask if she was all right, if he could come inside, but then she made a different sound, a more familiar one that made his erection throb hard in his breeches.

He heard her quiet panting mixed with sweet, innocent mewls of pleasure, from which he himself began to breathe through his mouth, shocked.

He leaned his forehead against the door, wanting to hear it better, with the corner of his eye looking to see if anyone was around, but they were all on the set. He thought he was just a pervert when his hand travelled deep under the material of his trousers, clamping down on his long, swollen cock, twitching painfully with desire in his hand.

He imagined what she looked like now, digging her delicate fingers into her fleshy walls, leaking with moisture, pulsing because of him, because of what he had done to her, because of his kisses and touch.

He drew in a loud breath and pressed his lips together, giving himself a firmer squeeze at the base, imagining that he had grasped her thighs in his hands and spread them in front of his face, sinking his mouth into her wonderful, delicate folds, licking and caressing her little cunt.

He sped up, hearing the quiet sounds in her room become more vulnerable and helpless, and after a moment she moaned a little louder with some kind of relief.

He opened his mouth wide when he felt his warm semen spurt out onto his fingers at the thought that she had just come because of him.

He cursed under his breath as he looked at his hand and headed quickly to the bathroom, afraid that anyone would see him.

As he washed his hands in the sink he looked at his reflection, at his white wig and eye patch, and decided that he was beginning to lose control, that he no longer knew which feelings were his and which were his character's.

He was terrified and had no one to tell about it.

He only saw her at dinner that evening, and although she sat next to him, she didn't look at him. He pressed his lips together at the thought that she was as ashamed as he was, only she had no idea that he knew what she had done and that he had done exactly the same thing himself.

He was crushed by a sense of guilt that he didn't know what to do with.

He decided to finally speak to her, feeling his heart in his throat, playing with his fingers.

"Did I overdo it? Today during our scene." He asked in a trembling voice, trying to sound indifferent and cool. She looked at him surprised, putting her glass of juice down on the table.

"– I – no, I'm sorry I left so suddenly – it's just that all of this – all of this has overwhelmed me –" She muttered, looking down at her hands lying on her lap.

He looked at her in silence, feeling a squeeze in his throat at the thought that he understood her, that perhaps they felt the same way.

"– if you don't mind – I'd like to rehearse scenes with you before we play them – I'd like to talk to you about them – I have too much chaos in my head and no one to share it with –" She said, looking up at him finally, her brow furrowed in fear that he would not take her suggestion well.

He, however, felt some wonderful kind of relief.

"– yes – yes, that's a great idea –"

They spent the next few days acting out scenes, talking to each other for hours in the evenings in the hotel restaurant or her room about how they wanted to portray particular dialogues.

"– then when they're arguing I think to approach it more along the lines that: he just wants forgiveness and she's tired of him always expecting her to forgive him, even though he himself has held a grudge against her for so many years – something like: what should I do now? – divorce you? –" She asked sternly, getting into character for a moment, wanting to show him what she meant.

He hummed at her words and nodded, intrigued.

"– yes – yes, I think it's a good track – he's broken, exposed, afraid of the visions of that witch – he tries to push it away, but because of the way he represses it, everything he's afraid of comes back to him in nightmares –" He said, half lying half sitting on her bed with a copy of the script in his hand, the other gesturing as if he were a lecturer.

She nodded quickly at his words, sitting down next to him on the sheets, excited.

"– yes, exactly – he locks too much inside himself, and everything he fears then manifests itself in his dreams – his thoughts overwhelming him more and more and filled his mind like water that finally bursts his skull –"

"– a drop drills a rock –" He murmured and she snapped her fingers.

"– exactly –" She said, swinging her legs.

Unintentionally, his gaze traveled over her figure – her light-coloured sweatshirt with Jigglypuff from Pokemons seemed very fluffy to him, white tracksuit shorts and pretty white floral socks on her legs.

"– are you still watching this? –" He grinned with amusement. She cocked her head, smiling broadly.

"– what? –"

"– Pokemons –"

She giggled, embarrassed; the sound, innocent and sweet, made him feel a tightening in his throat and a pleasant tingling in his lower abdomen.

"– yes, but only the first few seasons – you know – the classics –" She said, closing her eyes proudly, as if she were speaking some work of Shakespeare.

"– mmm – I watched this when I was a kid –" He confessed, and she shifted towards him, delighted, surprising him completely.

"– I have a laptop – do you want to watch the first episodes together and order a pizza? –"

Though the suggestion seemed absurd to him, he agreed, and it wasn't long before he was watching, lying next to her on her bed, with a big carton of pizza lying on their bellies, as Ash tried to tame Pikachu.

"– God, how long it's been since I've watched this –" He muttered, feeling some kind of melancholy. He heard her melodious, joyful laughter.

"– I know this episode by heart –" She said between one greedy bite of pizza and another, clearly pleased and happy.

For some reason, despite his rather solitary nature, he felt comfortable around her. Her behavior made him feel like he wasn't being judged or watched – he knew he could say at any time that he was going back to his room to rest, and she wouldn't hold it against him.

He caught himself thinking that he really liked her.

What made him involuntarily distance himself from closer acquaintanceships with actresses was that it often seemed to him that they played offstage as well – they stepped into the role of innocent, sweet, dreamy romantics or passionate unapproachable women, but in fact he had no idea if he knew them at all.

With her, however, it was different – her sudden, unexpected reactions, the glint in her eye, her smile and unthinking remarks were real.

For some reason, her character, her presence had a soothing effect on him.

He was ashamed to admit that he liked her a little too much.

He kept repeating to himself that just one more episode and he would go, but another and another flew by. Her warm, soft body was wonderfully close, their arms were pressed against each other, their heads lying side by side on the pillow, as they looked at the laptop lying between their legs.

For some reason he felt like a little child again who was about to spend the night with his mate.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and noticed that her eyes were closed, her lips parted slightly, her head tilted to one side in deep sleep.

Something captured him in this sight – the thought that she felt comfortable and good enough with him that she had fallen asleep.

He rose slowly, taking the large pizza box from their thighs, setting it down on the floor and rose, trying to be quiet. She twisted around and hummed something as he covered her with the duvet and turned off the lamp, feeling somehow proud of himself for treating her the way she deserved it.

It was as if he had a friend.

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soapoet · 1 year ago

Text

what's next in love...? [ singles ]

detailed af.

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

it seems like you've been living life half awake, daydreaming of many scenarios you'd wish come true. even in established relationships you may find yourself wishing for more of something. you may have been told your ideals are naive, to lay off the romcoms and fics and be a little more realistic. you may have found yourself excited at every prospect of new love, giddy and involved, endlessly curious and a true lover of the rose coloured glasses. and perhaps you've found plenty of reasons to rejoice, but somehow things eventually trickle down and get into the mundane and the routines. and it frustrates you. so much. is there really no one out there whose loving gestures and kind words don't become clockwork, expected chores and scripted events?

there is. and this one feels a little 'too good to be true'. you yourself may sooner rather than later find yourself pinching your arm to check if you're actually awake. i suggest you try to hold back on the told-you-so's to the naysayers, as some of them have your best interest at heart. and not only that, but will provide a lot of guidance and support in terms of navigating this next chapter in love. it'll be a bit of a whirlwind and a maze, but with much promise at the end as a reward.

if you've been sitting on some sort of project, waiting to launch yourself into a new endeavour, you should get back on track. especially if you've been procrastinating. somewhere down that path, there's a person you ought to meet. they relate to your goals somehow, perhaps having done the same themselves before. they have a lot to teach you and will become a priceless source of support, but don't expect things to be handed to you. your work is your own and your rewards will be bigger and better if you can in the future look back and say, damn, look at what i did, i achieved all that! that's of course not to say you can't find help from those around you. definitely ask for assistance and support when you need it. but to come out on the other side and say you made it, ideally you paved your own way for plenty of it because you deserve the final applause and praise so much. believe in yourself and don't let the little voice in the back of your head make you doubt yourself and your ideas.

this person seems like a bit of a flirt. not in a way that should raise any concerns, as they are a very loyal person. they actually make it known loud and clear if they're already spoken for, and enjoy flaunting their partner in many ways. this is a person who will bring up your achievements and strengths at a social gathering, not to flex having you at their arm, but to genuinely shine a spotlight on you. especially if it'll get you flustered. they have a very playful energy to them that's endearing and youthful regardless of their actual age. a little bit of a peter pan vibe where they'll retain their young spirit well into their retirement. they're very easy-going and likeable, and have a lot of friends, and may connect you to a ton of new people. expect your social life to explode as a result of this connection, but at the same time be sure to make time for the friends and supporters that you have right now.

this person is used to being the centre of attention, not just socially, but professionally too. they may have a very visible job or hobbies that connect them to an audience of some kind within their chosen field. their energy is very contagious and fun, though that doesn't mean they're entirely air-headed and incapable of taking things seriously. i'm strongly getting that either they or someone close to them has struggled with a physical or mental illness for a good part of their life, so they have developed almost like an antenna to pick up on things going on that aren't being said out loud. especially if you're someone who frequently avoids bringing up your problems as to not burden others, or have a difficult time reaching out for support and being honest about how things affect you, you can rest assured that this person will quickly try to learn how to read you, or even outright ask how they can best assist you when you're struggling or even request some sort of secret code that you can use to communicate your unease so that they can quickly come to your aid.

they have a little bit of a problem taking their own concerns seriously. they seem to cope through distractions mostly. a positive in this is that they don't let things that are out of their control bother them and they do the best they can with what they got at any given time. a true optimist, but a negative aspect is that they may avoid facing their demons and try to outrun their problems. this can manifest itself with workaholic tendencies and a packed schedule in general. there might be some sort of saviour complex involved, too, in which they feel compelled to help everyone else and neglect their own needs. towards you in particular i'm getting a lot of pda and quality time. you slow them down a bit and help them stop to smell the roses. they'll be surprised by how much they've longed for peace and simplicity, and they find that solace and ease with you and it really heals them on a deep level, which in turn amps up the energy and effort they show you. goodbye routine lovers, honestly. this one walks the talk and really keeps up the pace long after the honeymoon phase.

some additional details: i'm not getting a lot in terms of appearance, which may suggest that you already know them, or at least know of them, even if they don't know of you yet. it's possible that you share mutual friends or interests or work within the same field. there is a big emphasis on their voice, and things may start off as long-distance with hours upon hours on the phone. astrological things that appear significant: leo, pisces, the sun, mercury, 11th house, 2nd house.

02.

you've been flying solo for a while now. perhaps you grew tired of, or dare i say even gave up on love? it may have seemed like there just aren't as many fish in the sea as promised. at least none that you could take seriously. and serious is what you want. and serious is what you're getting.

first and foremost i must say your standards aren't too high. do not feel ashamed of what you want, and don't let anyone tell you that you need to set realistic expectations. they're exactly where they need to be and you're attracting the quality you seek. you've ventured further out to sea to find yourself a bigger catch. the journey hasn't been easy, but it has helped you grow tremendously. i'm strongly getting that your past experiences have really helped you fine tune your build-a-bae, so to speak, and there's no more reconfiguring to do. you know what you want and what you don't want, how much of this and how much of that. the next lessons for you to learn in love are ones you will not tackle on your own, but alongside a long-term partner who is at your level. long gone are the days of disappointments and putting up with feeling like you're outgrowing your partner, because this next person is mature and ready to grow with you.

this person is what fairytales would call your true love. in as many ways as you are one and the same, you differ, sometimes wildly so. if you're an introvert, they're an extrovert. if you seek comfort, they seek adventure. it's your goals and dreams and values that hold hands in agreement, and that builds up a strong foundation for your connection. if you have a lot of feminine energy, they have a lot of masculine energy. you two may even look like opposites in some ways, or come from different cultures. and do not fret, because your differences will be a blessing, not a curse. this isn't a re-run of a love where you felt like you weren't seen or heard and were made to bend. there is a distinct element of give and take here. a beautiful balance wherein they enjoy your world and your ways, and don't force you to change any of it, and you feel compelled out of genuine desire to take their hand and let them show and share their world with you. and you're able to coexist perfectly fine in a way that makes you both feel fulfilled and at ease.

things may stall a little at first, because this person will have a bit of whiplash when the two of you meet. they may feel as if you stepped right out of their dreams in a way. like a ghost from their childhood when they were around their parents or grandparents and thought of the person they'd grow old with some day. and suddenly you're there, a distant memory made flesh, a memory forgotten long ago making a big splash as it resurfaces. but once they gather themselves i see that they'll be very direct in their pursuit of you. and it's quite the old school courting, too. they make their intentions clear and have the follow-through to walk their talk. this is a very open and honest person, although they appear a bit emotionally disconnected at times. it's not due to a lack of emotional sensitivity, but processing things before acting or speaking is a part of their character. they're very serious in love, and don't seem to fit into the modern age of tinder and hookups.

they may have a strong connection to the sea, live by the ocean, look mediterranean, or enjoy activities related to water. their features in general leans darker. be it their eyes, hair, skin, or the way they dress. there is something specifically drawing me to their hands. perhaps they work with their hands, are a very crafty person, or have a physically demanding job. or simply have very attractive hands that you would take note of. physical touch is important to them, and they are very protective of their loved ones.

speaking of loved ones, they have strong familial ties and may come from a big family. i'm also strongly getting that they come from money, though without the nepotism often associated with it. their father in particular may have made it a point to raise them with a lot of discipline and drive to make something of themselves and not just rely on a trustfund. this person is ambitious and a hard worker, and prefers to be involved and hands-on with what they do. i'm also seeing siblings playing a big role in your connection. one in particular could connect with you in a meaningful way. this family is one that will welcome you with open arms and you will feel as though you have gained another family to call your own. if you have any childhood wounds related to family, this one takes found family quite literally.

some additional details: travelling and holidays figure strongly. things get taken to the next level rather quickly because there is a lack of doubt involved. they're very generous with their time and money. this has massive signs of marriage. astrological things that appear significant: aries, taurus, saturn, the moon, the 4th house, the 9th house.

03.

it seems like you're stuck on something, or someone. and that situation didn't treat you fairly. this feels less like betrayal and more like you spent some time hauling dead weight around. in vain, i might add. either you already have or will soon drop it and move on. it might be difficult, though, and i apologise if i'm overstepping here, but in part it's due to an inability to truly let go on your part. if you want to get even, or show someone what they lost, do it by moving on with grace and making decisions for yourself and your own growth and success. beware of people around you who would gladly take advantage of your vulnerability right now. even if it feels like a rebound would benefit you, it'll only hurt you if you find yourself looking over the shoulder of another person to see if the one who hurt you sees and is affected by it. what will truly help you heal is to dust yourself off and focus on feeling whole within yourself. and don't worry, you didn't stumble into yet another love reading that will tell you, well, tough luck, no love for you, work on yourself! whilst i certainly will call you to take care of yourself and pursue things that serve you and your growth, i will also go over what's coming next.

and that's something a little eerie. you may have someone in your past, who you consciously or subconsciously measure everyone else up to. perhaps this was the one that got away, or someone you met at the wrong time. in one way or another, there is a situation you wish had happened differently. in your pursuit of finding yourself again and some solid ground to stand on after enduring stormy seas, you may run into someone who is eerily similar to someone you once knew. but at the right time, now. for some of you this may very well be the exact person you already have history with, or could've had history with, though with major improvements from the previous season. but for many this is just an oddly familiar stranger who gives you a bit of deja vu. they share many similarities with someone you've been attracted to, just less red flags and complications.

this person seems rather cerebral. their job, studies, or hobbies may revolve around psychology, literature, or science. they're very good with their words, both written and spoken. they can also be quite blunt, but not with malicious intent. they aren't afraid of speaking their mind, and may be quite passionate about their opinions. they're a great teacher, and a good student, too. they enjoy delving deeply into things and soak up new information like a sponge. they'll greatly value your opinion and perspective, and the two of you may engage in debates or discussions about a variety of topics. intellectually speaking you're on the same wavelength and seem to understand each other intuitively.

it's very possible that this starts off platonic. whilst you may be ready to jump into a relationship with them from the start, they prefer to take things slowly and really get to know you first. you may worry that the spark between you will fade over time, but this one is a lesson of patience and building a strong connection as a foundation first. especially if in the past you've been quick to hurt or get hurt, you're about to learn how differently a lover will treat you when you're first and foremost a dear friend. this connection has the potential of some serious power couple themes in the long run. the two of you feel almost dangerous as duo, but i think that just goes to show that the initial spark won't fade and actually benefit from a bit of a slow burn before the fire starts raging at full force.

there is a lot of chemistry between the two of you. a very push-and-pull, engaging, and intoxicating energy. you'll keep each other on your toes in a way that keeps things feeling fresh and exciting. you're partners in crime and the world appears to be your playground. any past heartbreaks and feelings of lack, even lackluster, is gone and replaced with adventure and passion. you're very attracted to them, and they to you, in a way that could be classified as an addiction if it weren't for the fact that the side effects are predominantly positive. the two of you may collaborate on some kind of project, and your joint efforts are sure to be a success. though you do many things together, you also support each other in your separate endeavours. there may be a bit of mutual artist and muse dynamic here, wherein you inspire them and they inspire you. you both value your individuality, and hype each other up.

this person feels devilish in some way. a maverick of sorts. they're taller, perhaps lanky, and there is an unconventional attractiveness to them. they have a unique look that really pulls you in and makes them stand out anywhere they go. they might dress in a way that makes them different from the crowd. they really march to the beat of their own drum. i'm not getting much in terms of family, so they may be very independent and live a life separate from family, or they may have some wounds in regards to their home life that they keep their walls up over. they take their friendships very seriously, many of them are ones they'd take a bullet for. this is a very ride or die type of person. they're very resilient and if they've known terrible hardships in their past, you'll be in awe of their personal strength and ability to get back up when they're knocked down.

some additional details: music is very relevant to the point where you should expect to receive a personalised playlist as a way for them to communicate their feelings for you. they might be musically inclined and play an instrument. astrological things that appear significant: scorpio, aquarius, aries, pluto, uranus, 3rd house, 10th house, 12th house.

#energy reading #spiritual guidance #pac reading #spirituality #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick a card #love reading #soapy.post #loa

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lucid-loves · 7 months ago

Text

First Light ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 5

Pairing: bodyguard!Ghost x princess!reader (fem!reader)

Word Count: 4.2k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, verbal abuse by parents, physical abuse by parents, psychological abuse by parents, opposites attract, forbidden love, slow burn, fluff, attraction and sexual tension, reader POV and ghost POV, minors DNI, smut, virgin reader, first kiss

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After receiving death threats from a mysterious terrorist organization, your royal parents make a decision to reach out to the United States for help. Specifically, they want the US to send a bodyguard to protect their precious princess. When the 141 is called upon to investigate, Ghost is the one assigned to protect you. With your lack of experiences outside of your royal life and his experience with nothing but deadly, worldly affairs, opposites attract.

Chapter Synopsis: You are having a blast doing what you want to do for the first time in your life. However, the longer you live with Ghost, the stronger the tension between you gets. One night, curiosity gets the better of you and Ghost can’t help but satiate it for you.

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7

Ghost watched you watching your movie with a slight smirk under his mask. While you have already seen him without the mask a couple of times already, he still felt more comfortable with the mask. Especially since he was technically still working. While he has been having fun watching you run around the safehouse enjoying new knowledge, he still had to stay on his toes. Your life was still in danger as far as he knew.

You were wrapped up in a fluffy blanket on the couch, your eyes trained on the screen that flashed movie scenes that were once banned for you. Since day one, you have been desperate to fit as many banned activities as you possibly could before you would go back, whenever that was. Watching movies was part of those activities along with listening to diverse music, exploring the wonders of the world wide web, and trying new foods that weren’t exactly the healthiest.

In your hands while you watched the movie was a small journal and pen where you took notes. For you, this was more about enjoying the contraband. This was research. You took notes on the cinematography when it came to shows and movies. You took notes on the melodies and harmonies when it came to music. You took notes on ingredients and flavor when it came to new food.

Anything and everything was a research opportunity in some way. And Ghost admired that about you. You weren’t too naive despite growing up the way you did. You picked up on things rather quickly, especially when you were in a groove. Now that you were free, you didn’t hold back in demonstrating just how smart and competent you were. He figured that if you weren’t a princess, you’d be a scientist of some sort.

He suppressed a chuckle as you gasped and jumped from a jumpscare on the screen, the horror movie clearly getting to you. Not that you were silly for being scared. The original Psycho was a fantastic piece of cinematography from the horror genre. The lighting work, the script, the acting, and the camera angles all contributed to creating the creepiest horror movie that has stood the test of time.

You wrote down your experience in your notebook, excited to add to your research. Just before the credits began to roll, Ghost walked over and sat himself next to you on the couch. The couch dipped under his weight, reminding you of how big a man he is. You scooted over, making sure to give him enough space that he took up.

When the credits began to roll, you stretched your arms above your head to help out your back. Ghost stared at how your graceful arms raised up high, how your back arched slightly. He noticed how flawless your skin looked. It was no surprise that you had scarless skin. At the same time, though, you looked unbelievably soft to touch.

Ghost had been thinking about that more often within the past week and a half. It was hard not to think about it as you became comfortable within the space. You wore more casual yet cute clothes, you carried yourself more easily, and you have been more active in maintaining the temporary home. Not to mention that you have been wearing that hair clip he bought you just about every day, exposing the nape of your neck.

He wanted to snake his arms around your waist, pull you close into his lap, and kiss your bare shoulders. The desire passed as you looked at him suddenly. “Would you like to choose the next movie?”

“Me?” He questioned, surprised by your offer. Ghost hasn’t had much time to see a lot of movies. He’s seen the classics and some modern popular films, but his job didn’t exactly allow him time to really indulge in any binge watching of any kind.

“I was planning on choosing a romance to directly compare the cinematography differences since I expect the contrast to be quite stark. However, if you would like to watch something else, I don’t mind.” You warmly smiled, happy to have Ghost join you in your movie binge.

You had been trying your best to give him space since he was still taking his job very seriously. You were also trying to keep your crush on him under control by keeping a healthy distance. Though, you still always craved his attention. You wanted to spend time with him. Get to know him. Now was the time to perhaps learn something new about him.

Ghost held his chin in thought for a moment before grabbing the remote off from the coffee table. It didn’t take him long to find the movie he thought would be best for the both of you. Your small smile turned into a large grin as he started Casablanca.

“Is this your favorite movie?” You inquired curiously.

“It’s the best romance movie in my opinion. Not particularly my all time favorite, but it’s up there and a first choice if I’ll be watching a romance. Besides, it would probably serve as a good film to study alongside Psycho since they’re around the same era of film.” He explained, not realizing how easy it was to talk to you about his personal opinions.

You snuggled back into the couch, getting cozy once again for a new movie. The both of you sat in comfortable silence as the film played, feeling a sense of ease in each other’s presence. As the film progressed, you only became more and more entranced in the wonderful story on screen.

It was hard not to sympathize and empathize with Ilsa. To swoon with her, smile with her, and cry with her. The acting was impeccable. It almost felt real. Especially when Ilsa asked Rick for a kiss for the final time without him knowing. A sharp pain went through your heart as they closed the distance, your notebook and pen falling into your lap. The bittersweet romance made you think of your own inexperience.

You haven’t thought of it much before. Yes, you did read a few contraband romance books here and there. However, there were more important things to you besides finding a partner you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. It wasn’t until the event with the Duke that you began to think about it a little more each night. You were a grown woman. A capable, smart, curious, and slightly rebellious woman. Yet, you still haven’t had your first kiss. It was starting to make you feel like you were missing out on something in life.

“Hey, you okay?” Ghost called out to you, noticing how pained and distracted you were. He paused the movie for a moment so he could completely focus on you.

“Ah, pardon me. I was just thinking about something serious.” You apologized, your cheeks flushing a bit.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He offered, causing your cheeks to turn even more pink. While you have been feeling more comfortable talking to your bodyguard, it was still a little embarrassing to talk about the romantic things on your mind. It was hard to refuse him though. You knew that he was genuinely concerned about you.

Curiosity was getting the better of you too. You wanted to know what kissing was like. If Ghost had ever kissed someone before. He probably has given his age and ability to actually see the world. The image of him kissing someone made you a little sick to your stomach too. Oh god, what if he has a girlfriend back home? Or a wife?!

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your silly anxieties. If this were to be truly resolved, then you needed to speak up. Hopefully Ghost won’t judge you too much. “I. . . I was thinking about how I haven’t had my first kiss yet. . .”

He quirked a brow under his mask, not expecting that confession to come out of your mouth. He didn’t even occur to him before that you thought about those kinds of things. “Something like that bothers you?”

Your cheeks began to feel like they were on fire. He didn’t say it in a judgemental tone, but it was still very embarrassing to admit. “It doesn’t so much as bother me, but I do feel like I am missing out on something. Most women my age have already had their first kiss. Probably a lover. Some may already have children. I know that I’ve been locked away for most of my life so it isn’t my fault. Still though, I can’t help but wonder about it.”

“I can understand where you are coming from. Most people get curious about things like that eventually.” He reasoned, hoping that his understanding would make you feel better. It was obvious that you were getting uncomfortable talking about something like this with him. Your shoulders were tense, your cheeks were pink, and you stared down into your lap where your thumbs twiddled.

“May I ask how your first kiss was?” You pried in a cautious tone.

Now it was Ghost’s shoulders that were tensing up. Besides feeling the instinct of keeping his privacy that he so strongly protects, it also didn’t feel entirely appropriate to talk about his experience with you. You were still a princess by nature. Plus he was still working.

It was hard to say no to you though.

With a deep sigh, he leaned back into the couch. “I was a teenager. There was a neighbor who’s granddaughter came to visit every once in a while. She kissed me one night when we were hanging out. We fooled around until she left to go to college. Haven’t seen her since.”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you listened to his story. A part of you was glad that he left out the more intimate details. Another part of you wanted to know what his true feelings were within those moments. “Were you heartbroken when she left?”

“Not particularly. I already knew what was going to happen by the end of that summer. We didn’t really kiss out of mutual feelings either. It was more so just. . . curiosity.” He elaborated further, somehow finding it easy to tell you about these things than he expected.

“Have you ever fallen in love then?” You asked before you could think.

This caused Ghost to tense up again, his heart skipping a beat. He didn’t know why, but the first thing that came to his mind when you asked was your name. Not even a yes or no. Just your name that danced at the tip of his tongue.

He felt his body grow warm as he swallowed your name down, not ready to acknowledge what it probably meant. “I had a girlfriend several years back. Hard to maintain a relationship with my job.”

“I see. My apologies.” You lowered your head, somehow feeling like it was your fault that your bodyguard can’t settle down with someone. Like you were keeping him away from a lover that didn’t exist.

He noticed how depressed you seemed about his answer. He didn’t mean to make you feel bad. “It’s just part of the job. And I won’t say that I was completely innocent in the breakup.”

You hugged your knees to your chest, unsure how to respond to his confession for a moment. You never really asked about his work before. All you really knew was that he was in the military and was one of the best at his job. Now that you thought about it, though, he probably had to move around a lot. He had to travel all the way to your country after all.

“Did you want to experience your first kiss?” Ghost asked, switching the attention back onto you. The question made your heart feel like it was tripping over itself with how fast it pounded. At the tip of your own tongue, you wanted to admit that you wanted to experience your first kiss with him.

“Um. . .” You hesitated, feeling the butterflies in your stomach turn into a hurricane. It felt like your brain was malfunctioning. Still, Ghost waited patiently for your answer. Silently.

He didn’t mind waiting. It just meant that he got to see just how flustered you were. While he did feel partially guilty for being the reason why you were embarrassed, he also secretly enjoyed it. It was too much of a treat to see just how pink your cheeks could get. It made him want to tease you.

Finally, you raised a hand up to your face to try to cover your blush. You were just getting way ahead of yourself. “It’s not nice to tease a princess, you know?”

He wasn’t expecting you to say something so cute and cool at the same time.

At that moment, Ghost wanted to pounce. Hover his weight above your body and give you a kiss you would never forget. Nibble on your kissable lips while you shivered underneath him. Or he could pull you into his lap and slide his tongue into your pretty mouth. Slide his hands along your waist as he tasted you. You probably tasted devine. Sweet.

He had to bite his tongue hard in order to get his mind out of the gutter. After that, however, he couldn’t help but chuckle. You were so much more full of surprises than he realized.

Your eyes widened as he laughed. What could be so funny? Was what you said really that comical? Thankfully, your bodyguard was willing to explain. “Sorry, Princess. I don’t mean to laugh at you. What you said was just cool. I didn’t expect it.”

The attention went back to you, Ghost clearly not willing to let this go just yet. It was a little strange. You have never seen your bodyguard so playful before. Relaxed. It made your insides feel like they were melting. While you couldn’t see it with the mask, you knew he was smiling. At the very least, you could tell he was through his eyes. “Anyway, do you?”

You almost forgot what you were talking about until he brought it up again. It seemed that you weren’t going to escape this. “Well. . . yes. However, I don’t think it’s going to happen anytime soon.”

“What about with me?” Ghost slipped up. He gauged your reaction swiftly, trying to figure out if you heard him or not. If you didn’t he could save face.

You did hear him though. Loud and clear. It wasn’t like there were many distractions that would cause you to miss what he said. The movie was on pause. There was no sound but the conversation at hand.

This was dangerous territory. Saying no would result in losing your chance to not only experience your first kiss, but also miss a kiss with your crush. If you said yes, then the professional boundary of princess and bodyguard would be broken. That could lead into a whole whirlwind of issues if things were to progress. Or if the kiss was found out.

No, you could keep a secret. You have been keeping secrets for years. There were even some secrets that Ghost didn’t know about yet. You were sure that with his occupation and general character, the lieutenant could keep a secret to his grave.

Could you excuse the kiss for research purposes? Accepting a kiss would satiate your curiosity on the subject. For now at least. Besides, the safest way to explore this was probably with the man that has been keeping you safe. He wouldn’t do anything you weren’t comfortable with or even sure of.

This was your chance. You couldn’t miss it. “If you wouldn’t mind, then yes. . .”

It took everything out of Ghost to not pull you in right then and there. He didn’t even think you would say yes. However, he had to be sure. You had to be sure. “You positive? There’s no taking it back once it’s done.”

You seriously considered it again for a second before nodding, not much more confident and sure of yourself on this. “Yes. Only if you are willing.”

Oh, he was willing. He craved it. Slowly, he took off his mask, allowing you to see the face you didn’t even realize you missed. Your heart picked up speed. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as a surreal feeling took over. Was this really happening? Your first kiss? With your bodyguard?

As much as you wanted to just keep admiring his handsome face, you closed your eyes, waiting for him to make the first move. You felt the cushions on the couch shift as he moved to a more comfortable position. You felt his body heat become more noticeable as he got closer.

You flinched slightly as his hand cupped your cheek, the feeling of his skin on yours sending fireworks through you. Ghost was feeling the magnetic pull too. Just as he thought, your skin was silky smooth. Your lashes were delicately long and your lips begged to be kissed already. He felt his own heart thud loudly within his chest as he got closer and closer.

He let his lips lightly brush against yours, not wanting to startle you too much. At first contact, your heart soared. Naturally, you leaned forward to really close the distance, feeling your bodyguard’s lips perfectly fitting against yours.

Soft, sweet, thrilling. You wanted more. You really wanted more. Ghost felt the same way as he got lost in the way your lips felt. So perfect. So flawless. Without thinking, he deepened the kiss, pressing his lips firmer against yours.

A subtle moan came from your throat, pleasure spreading across your body. Your lips moved in sync with his, despite this kiss being your first. It was amazing how warm you felt, how sparks flew. It was exactly what your romance novels described. It made you want to try the other intimacies you’ve read too.

As much as Ghost wanted to keep kissing you, he had to pull back. He was getting too lost at the moment. Any more and he could completely lose control. This was meant to give you new knowledge. A favor. He couldn’t enjoy it as much as he was.

The absence was devastating though. As soon as his lips left yours, you felt a terrible pain in your heart. It broke your heart that this could be your first and last kiss with him. Your bodyguard felt that strain too deep within his soul.

He cleared his throat before speaking, trying to relieve the romantic tension that still lingered in the air. “Well, was it what you were expecting? Gonna write it down for your notes?”

You scooted back, creating distance between the two of you. It felt like he was an ocean away. “It was pleasant. I see why people like doing it. I may write about this a little later.”

An awkward silence fell as the both of you tried to ignore the magnetic pull. Ghost scolded himself for getting too close. He really shouldn’t have even entertained the idea of kissing you, but he couldn’t help it. His attraction to the beautiful princess next to him was consuming his mind, body, and soul. The kiss only heightened it.

You reached forward towards the remote and put the movie back on, hoping that this would distract the both of you from your intense attraction.

It helped somewhat as the movie audio filled the silence. However, while your eyes were trained on the screen, your mind was as chaotic as a hurricane. You loved kissing Ghost. You craved it now just like how you have been constantly craving his attention.

This didn’t feel like this was just a crush on your bodyguard anymore.

Bittersweet, romantic music swelled as Ilsa and Rick said their final goodbyes and finally reached closure with each other. Ghost turned towards you once again, watching your reaction to the end. As he waited, he couldn’t help but gaze upon your lips.

You felt his eyes on you, something that you were getting better at detecting. Turning your head to meet his gaze, you realized that he seemed closer than before. Did he move closer without you realizing it? Or did you?

Credits began to roll, the sweet music still filling the quiet. Before he could stop himself, Ghost had cupped your cheek, his thumb gently rubbing your skin. God, you were gorgeous. A princess from another world. Away from his world. Just looking into your sparkling eyes helped him escape the traumas in his life.

On his own, he saw blood, guns, death everywhere. With you, he saw life blossoming from the ashes of the world.

His lips crashed into yours, no longer caring if this was crossing the line. For now, he wanted that temporary escape. That fantasy of being with you. Of you being his.

You closed your eyes as he kissed you greedily, your arms looping around his neck. Your heart threatened to break out of your chest as he kissed you how he wanted. A real kiss. His kiss. You could feel every cell in your body melt under his touch.

His hands moved down to your waist where he lifted you into his lap. Straddling him gave you an exciting rush of pleasure that traveled all the way down to the tips of your toes. Strong, large hands felt you up, sending shivers down your spine.

He nibbled your lower lip for a moment, making you moan not so subtly this time. Taking advantage of the situation, he slipped his tongue into your mouth. The pace wasn’t as greedy as he tasted you further. He slowed down to not startle you. But god damn did he want to take all of you. He wanted to take all of your firsts. This was shown with just how deeply he kissed you.

Your grip around his neck tightened as your tongue slid against his. Your chest pressing against his didn’t help the now sexual tension growing. His body felt amazing. Strong, defined muscles with the perfect touch of softness. True strength and power that has protected you.

You could feel your sex tingle with need.

Ghost pulled back to give you a moment to breathe. He also was feeling himself responding to the sexual tension. It took everything in him not to start grinding into you. The side effect of holding back was gripping your hips tightly to hold you close.

Feeling weak and out of breath, you leaned against him further, your head pressing against his shoulder. As the both of you began to calm down, his grip loosened. His hands now traveled around your back and waist, hugging you to provide more comfort.

Once your breath became steadier, he placed a kiss against the side of your head. He could tell that you were tired now. He did just take a lot of energy from you. “Why don’t you go take a nap in your room. I’ll be getting some work done.”

Your brows furrowed out of his vision. It hurt that he was sending you away so quickly. But, you did need a moment to think. Regain some energy too. With that realization, you then realized that Ghost was just being courteous to you.

Slowly, you got off of his lap and headed to your room, fighting the urge to turn around. At the same time, Ghost fought the urge to pull you against him again. As soon as he heard the closing click of your door, he gave a loud sigh. He was really in it now.

You laid yourself down onto your bed, the phantom touch of Ghost still lingering. It felt like his arms were still wrapped around you. Like his lips were brushing against yours. You rubbed your thighs together unconsciously as you recalled everything about your sudden makeout with your bodyguard.

It didn’t take long for you to bury your face into the pillow, muffling your moans as you touched your slick pussy to the thought of him.

Before you were a princess, you were a woman after all.

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szynkaaa · 29 days ago

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Not My Circus, But Unfortunately That Is My Monkey

Next Chapter ✦ Read it on AO3

Guess what, I wrote a one-shot for my disaster children Sun Wukong and OC. I plan to write more, whenever I have some ideas that I need to get off. Not a writer, and English is not my first language! This is mostly self-indulging crap.

It is written in 1st POV, from my OC's, but I also use 'you' (2nd POV??) when she is referring to the Destined One/Sun Wukong. Imagine basically all the one shots are diary entires or letters she wrote addressing to him. Books that inspired me to write in this style: Cat and Mouse by Günter Grass, Stolen by Lucy Christopher and You by Caroline Kepnes.

Here is my OC tag with art and backstories that I am making up for her which may or may not get mentioned in my one-shots.

Stories will not be written in chronological order of their adventure, I will write whatever comes to my mind. It's also posted on my AO3

In Which There Was Only One Bed (There Wasn't, They Are Both idiots)

It was around the hours of the Ox when I heard light footsteps pacing outside my room. The door to my room in the Stone Palace on Mount Huaguo was not fully closed. I liked to leave a bit open, just wide enough for me to hear more clearly if there is anything happening outside the door and I need to get ready to fight for my life – habits I picked up from my travel with you that seemed to not be going away any time soon.

I laid bundled up in three layers of blankets on a thin mattress on the ground close to nearest exist in the room: a window with no glass panels. A peach tree grew right outside said window, with the nearest branch to the window close enough for me to jump from the ledge over and climb down the tree to run away if needed. Even though you assured me that the Stone Palace is a safe place, and no harm can happen to me, after months of traveling with you and having far too many close encounters with death, I was not able to sleep anymore with all the doors and windows shut tight. It’s funny because before all of this, I couldn’t fall asleep before making sure that all doors were closed – and that included wardrobes too. I was so sure that if I left a wardrobe open, something was going to crawl out of it and drag me away as a kid. Now I fear that if I keep all doors closed, I will be trapped inside with whatever was already hiding in the room before even being able to escape.

The pacing in front of my door stopped. Logically, I knew that it was you outside, and yet my heart pace still picked up, thinking that maybe, just maybe some yaoguai managed to get pass you is now to finish me off. There weren’t many creatures living in the Stone Palace. So far, it’s just you and me. You told me that while there are still some monkeys living on Mount Huaguo, there were still many things you needed to get sorted out before things would go back to the way it was before - before the Monkey King retrieved the scripts from the West, before he embarked on a long journey of sixteen years, before he was buried under the Five Element Mountain for 500 years, before he wreaked havoc in heaven. Back when the halls and mountain was filled with joyous laughter and mischief and happiness. A simpler time, you said once. But you were greedy and ambitious and wanted more.

The pacing stopped.

Keeping my eyes shut and pretending to be still asleep, I slowly reached for the dagger (a gift from the 4th Spider Sister) under my pillow. I opened one eye and glanced at the door. The door creaked slightly, indicating that whoever was standing outside was pushing it open now. And then the pushing stopped briefly, like they were hesitating. I slowly moved the dagger to under my blanket, heart beating wildly, praying that I will not have to use it. Did I even know how to swing a dagger? I didn’t, but better to have a weapon than none. I closed my eyes again, pretending to be asleep.

This time, I heard someone knocking on the door.

“You’re awake.” came a voice standing outside. It was you, Sun Wukong, stating facts rather than asking if I was awake at this ungodly hour.

I released a relieved breath, not knowing I was even holding it and opened my eyes again. “Yeah, I am. What’s up?” I asked. I didn’t need to see your face to know that your eyebrows briefly furrowed at my ‘what’s up’. You got good at understanding the unusual way I talk, but there were still times where you couldn’t understand what I was trying to say.

You pushed the door open and walked in, your eyes wandering from the empty bed and then to my form laying bundled up in three layers of blankets – due to the chilly night air - on a thin mattress on the floor. Confusion was written all over your face. I sat up from and put the dagger aside as you walked towards me, and then crouched down.

“Why are you sleeping on the floor? Is the bed not to your liking?” you asked. There was worry etched into your face, your tail lowered to the ground. You were out of your armor, wearing a simple hanfu top and loose pants. The hanfu was not properly tied up, giving me a good view onto your fur-covered upper body – the only part showing some skins were your chest and neck. It’s very likely that up until few minutes ago, you were also in your own bed, trying to sleep.

I wrapped my blankets around my shoulder and leaned back against the wall. “The bed is fine. It’s just...” I trailed off, suddenly feeling very silly for sleeping on the floor.

You noticed my hesitation, and sat down on the floor opposite of me, legs crossed. I knew that this usually meant you were waiting patiently for me to find the right words to say what I wanted.

Ah fuck it. You have already seen me at my worst, what is one more silly confession? “The bed is too soft.” I blurted out.

One of your eyebrows perked up. “Too soft?”, you repeated gently. I half-expected you to mock what I said. The stories I read about the Great Sage Equal to Heaven were running through my head, how the Monkey King would easily mock and tease others for their weakness. But then I silently berated myself for even thinking like this about you – you’re not like this anymore. That was you long in the past. I was still getting used to the ‘new’ you. The you that inherited Sun Wukong’s relics and minds and memories.

“I think I’m just too used to sleeping on the cold hard ground outside. I’m having hard time falling asleep these days on the bed, so I just move all the things down here to get some sleep. It’s silly, I know. We are not traveling anymore and I know this is a safe place but-”

“It’s not silly.” you interrupted me, and looked me in the eyes with an intense stare, making my breath hitch. “I want you to feel comfortable here. And if this means you need to sleep on the floor, then so be it. If you need ten blankets to sleep with,” you continued, patting my three blankets, “then I will find you the best silk blankets in the three realms.”

A smile hushed over my face at that statement.

“Please do not run away again.” you finished, and a heavy silence hung over us. Again. I lowered my eyes, thinking back about the time when I could not accept that you, the Destined One, have fully reincarnated into Sun Wukong. At that time, it seemed to me like I lost a best friend and they were replaced by a look-a-like with a different personality. Toppled with the fact that finding all six artifacts did not send me back home, it was too much for me to handle and I ran away, hiding in the Zodiac Village for a few weeks processing everything. You went from not talking a single word to suddenly being able to say anything that came into your mind – it was new and foreign and just felt so wrong at that time.

My actions at that time hurt you deeply, but you didn’t give up and came to visit the village every day, talking to everyone and just checking up on me while I was hiding away in the blacksmith’s cottage, like the coward I was.

Things were not back to the way it was before between us, and I don’t think it ever will be – and that’s okay, I realized. Just because some things have changed, it did not mean it was for the worse. It was just different, but not in a bad way.

Wiggling a foot out of my blanket layers, I gently nudged your leg. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” Your shoulders visibly relaxed, and then it was my turn for asking questions. “Why are you awake at this time pacing in front of my door?”

“I could not fall asleep either.” you replied, arms crossed like it was the most obvious answer. Duh.

“Okay, yeah. I figured out that much.” I rolled my eyes. Typical monkey, not giving me a straight answer. “What is keeping you awake?” I rephrased my question.

At that, your shoulders stiffened up and you avoided looking at me. It must have been something bad if you swallowed your pride to come over this late at night to see me. I pressed my lips into a thin line and nudged you again with my foot, to which you then simply grabbed hold of it. “Why is your foot freezing cold.” You asked instead.

“I’ve been dead for seven years.” shot out of me sarcastically, as I tried to tug my foot back into the blanket, but you were holding onto it with an iron grip, and then you started to massage my foot with both of your hands to get some warmth into them.

I felt the heat creeping up into my ears and tried to stay focused. “You’re avoiding my question.” Still holding onto the three layers of blanket, I shuffled a bit closer to you. You were still massaging my foot, putting all your attention into it to make sure it was warm.

“You should be grateful the Great Sage is massaging a mere mortal’s foot.” you snipped back.

Stupid rock monkey.

Using my other free foot, I tried to kick you for that sassy comment, but of course you saw it coming and caught my second foot in your hands too – which was also freezing cold, and you started massaging that one too, very focused on the task at hand.

I let you do it for a couple of minutes, till I could feel my toes again.

“Hey Wukong...” I started; you didn’t pause what you were doing. “Please tell me why you couldn’t sleep?”

Your movement briefly stopped, and then continued, your eyes avoiding mine. I bent forward a little bit and then grabbed your face with my hands, gently gripping the hair on your face and tilting your head up so that you were looking at me. You looked haunted, as if your head has been replaying some bad memories on repeat in your head like a broken record. You stopped massaging my feet, and moved your hand to grip mine that was holding your face, but you didn’t remove them from there.

“I... I can feel it.” you started, eyes drifting off again.

I moved my fingers a bit to massage your face, knowing that you loved it when I did this. “Feel what.”

“When I close my eyes, I am back in the battle field. Fighting against his- my sworn brother. Against the Yaoguai I fought at my travel. The three-eyed bastard and his mutt. The anger of the Court killing my kin, and how terrified I was gambling with my life-” you spoke, your hands gripping my hands so tight that I winced slightly, to which you immediately loosened them and then ran your finger up and down against mine as a form of apology.

I knew that by obtaining all six artifacts you would also gain Sun Wukong’s memories. However, it didn’t cross my mind that it also means you would have all the bad memories too, including the one where you had to kill yourself in order to be completely free.

I was never really good with words, or knew what to do to make a friend feel better. But I knew I did not – could not – let you walk back to your room alone after what you just confessed.

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” From the corner of my eyes, I saw how your tail slightly perked up at that.

You hesitated, before replying, “I do not want to cross any boundaries and make you uncomfortable.”

My eyes softened at that, knowing that you were referring to me still adjusting to the new-old you. “I mean. It’s not like it would be any different from when we shared a bed or bedroll when we were traveling.”

Your tail was now up from the floor, swishing left and right, a sign that you liked the proposal. Sometimes I think that you didn’t even know your tail was moving on its own, giving away what you were feeling.

Your hands stopped gripping mine, and then you scrunched your nose and said in a very distasteful tone, “The Great Sage does not sleep on the floor.”

I see, back to the snobby dignified king act. I knew that this was your attempt to cover up for the honest moment we briefly shared few seconds ago

Say what you want, the Monkey King is a bit of a tsundere.

Slapping your face lightly with both of my hands, I then proceed to lay back down and closed my eyes. “Suit yourself. You can carry me to the bed cause I ain’t movi-”

Before I could finish that sentence, something lifted me up along with my three blankets and then I was placed over a shoulder like a sack of potato. All I could see was a monkey tail swishing left and right before the room turned again and I was deposited ungently onto the bed, still cocooned up in my blankets. You motioned me to scooch over to the far end of the bed and then laid down next to me, with one arm under your head and the other resting on your stomach. “I need a blanket. Why do you have three of them?” You asked.

I stared at you, and you stared back, slowly raising an eyebrow. We both knew that the raised eyebrow meant ‘Are you really going to make this hard because this is a fight you will not win but I will indulge you if you want to’. Then I smiled in surrender, and shuffled around a bit so that I was out of my blanket cocoon and held up half of the blanket as a silent invitation for you to come closer and get under the blanket with me.

You did not need to be told twice. I lifted up my head so that you could put your arm under my head while I moved also closer to you, staring at the two moles on your exposed neck. You then moved the blanket over to us and placed your over arm around my body. I instantly felt much warmer, warmth that three layers of blanket could never provide. Wiggling my arms, I moved a bit back to make some space for my hands, before placing them on the exposed skin on your chest that was not covered by fur.

Just like my feet, my hands were also freezing cold. You knew I had bad blood-circulation, and yet for some reason you never seemed to be prepared for whenever I decide to use your body heat as a personal hand-and-feet-warmer. Or maybe you did but didn’t mind it that much.

“Why are your hands freezing cold mortal,” you hissed, but instead of pushing me away you grip around me tightened. Before I could give a reply, you said “And do not tell me it is because you have been dead for seven years.”

I grinned, feeling my hands warming up, and then proceed to tuck my cold-again feet between his fur-covered legs. You let out a defeated sigh, and then rested your chin on top of my head. “The Great Sage, reduced to a mere warmth comforter for a mortal.”

“Mhmmm.” I mumbled out, sleep finally catching up to me. ”Night night, Kiwi.” I said drifting off.

Something that felt like a pair of lips brushed my forehead.

Do you still see flashes of red, and feel the burning sensation of pain on your chest when you close your eyes? Do you still hear the sound of your Jīngū Bàng clashing with Erlang Shen’s spear, or when you laid in your sworn brother’s arms, taking your last breath before you crumbled into ashes, the wind carrying it away? You told me that the nightmares stopped whenever I was sleeping next to you.

Now I wonder if you are having them again, sleeping alone in your bed that was too big for one lonesome Monkey King.

#the ham writes #cepheus baskerville #black myth wukong #not me hinting that there might not be a happy ending after all for those two idiots #love me a good tragic sad story lmfaooo #black myth wukong oc #sun wukong #sun wukong x oc #Not My Circus #But Unfortunately That Is My Monkey

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nctinkverse · 10 months ago

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Promissa Redux

Pairing: jaehyun x f. reader

Genre: mature, smut, angst, fluff, minors dni.

Preview and plot warnings (I will update as I go): dad Jaehyun, pregnancy, MC is a mom, mature, slow burn, excessive angst, abundant plot, and probably way too much dialogue, exes to lovers, Jaehyun 's family is in this (at least as I imagine they might be), a lot of intimacy, explicit content, swearing, alcohol consumption, mention of exes, heavy make-out session and annoying co-workers.

WC Preview: 1000

WC Total: Not sure, probably it will be 5.000 - 10.000?

Chapter 1 - Shattered promises & Broken vows. Chapter 2 - Valentines Day.

Chapter 3 - One call away is not close enough.

SYNOPSIS: Most of the fairy tales and romance novels, it all seems perfect after the happily ever after. But what if some stories started at the end?

Well not the end per se, nobody was dying.

But you always questioned, do princess get a divorce?

Do female main characters give up the man they fought to love after so many chapters?

At 32 years of age, divorced, mom to an incredible 5-year-old girl who was the greatest thing you and the love of your life ever did, you thought again about the same questions you had when you were 14 and your parents got divorced.

Jung was your last name for 2 years, Mrs. Jung was your title and you loved it, he was sweet, loving, an amazing father and so good to you in bed that you never forgot truly what it felt like to be loved by him.

Your story stated way past the end, the not so happily ever after.

It didn’t have many twists and turns like a superhero movie that keeps you hanging at the edge of your seat for the next plot twist.

In your mind, life was already full of uncertainties, hard decisions, mistakes and paying the price for choosing paths.

Life itself was already hard enough without the responsibilities of superpowers.

So how you ended up thinking about all that again at 32 years old, while holding an engagement ring box you found on your lover’s pocket while picking it up of the floor, it was something you will have to find the answers, probably soon.

------------------------Preview----------------------------------------

You were fast asleep when the phone rang. The name on the screen making you jump, why is he calling at this hour? This can’t be a good thing.

Immediately you laid your back on the headboard and answered the call.

"Hi."

"Jaehyun, is something wrong?"

"Oh, no…" You let out a relieved breath, being half asleep making you grumpy.

"Good lord, Jaehyun, it's 4 a.m!" You said, raising your voice a little.

"Oh shoot… um sorry… I didn’t check for the time zones. I should have called another –

You interrupted his rambling. He’s not usually someone to call, he could just spill so you can go back to sleep.

"Jae, spill, what’s the gossip, huh?"

He let out a little laugh since the gossip joke was an old one between you two.

"No gossip, but I do have something."

"Clearly, it's something good or you wouldn’t be calling on impulse, spill, Jaehyun."

"Yeah right…" He hesitated a bit, his telltale sign usually being him coughing even though there was nothing wrong with his voice. "I got sent this script for this movie, they want me as the main male character..." He hesitated again, which made you ask.

"Jaehyun, what did you do?"

"I sent a copy of the script to your mailbox."

You could feel your sleepiness going away as you scolded him.

"Jaehyun, are you nuts? You can’t ship stuff like this in the mail! What if it gets –"

"It got delivered today." He interrupted, making you stop your thinking.

Scrambling for a thought since he didn’t elaborate, you asked.

"What the hell am I supposed to do with it?! I’m not a male actor, Jung."

"Read, dummy, read."

"And do what?"

"Tell me if you want it."

You opened your mouth to be obnoxious, pointing out the obvious, but Jaehyun must have listened to your 'I’m about to give you an earful' breath and went first.

"Listen, it’s an amazing script, just like the ones you used to want to work on. There’s an opening for a cinematographer, and I know you’re a hell of a good one, so if you want, it’s yours." He said in one breath, probably afraid you would interrupt again.

But from all he said, this part really got you confused.

"What do you mean it’s mine?"

"I showed the director your profile and portfolio, and he said yes."

"Fuck, Jaehyun." You didn’t know what to say since he was never one to interfere in your personal life since the D word.

"You’re sleepy, and I know how grumpy you can be at this hour, so… I still have to tell you two more things, the job is in the states, probably 3-4 months of filming, and I am supposed to give an answer on the male character in 48 hours. We would have to work together, and we would probably have to strike a deal with my parents since we can’t pull Junnie out of school, so…"

You understood what he said, but you needed at least a cup of coffee to process it. But before you could say anything, he went off again.

"I can give it up if you want." He said almost like a whisper.

"Give what up?"

"The character."

"You didn’t like it?"

"No, but –

You interrupted again.

"So, if you do like it, why would you give it up?" It made no sense to you.

"For you –"

It still didn’t make sense why he would give it up.

"Give it up for ME?"

"I like it, Y/N, but this script has you written all over it… and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable by being there."

Now you got him, yet he was about the last person in this world who could make you uncomfortable.

"Yuno…" You said in a softer tone.

You heard his breath and a soft "yeah?"

"I don’t hate you." You stated in your most soft yet firm tone, it was one of the things he must not forget about you two.

"I know, Y/N, I know."

"I am going to read it and think about what you said, ok? Don’t do anything hasty."

"Ok, I will let you go back to sleep."

"I’m not sleeping after all this, you know right?" You said, letting out a small huff.

"I know."

"What I am about to do is getting up, making some coffee and grabbing the script out of my mailbox, does it sound good to you?" You were being just a bit playful.

"It does, love."

That word made you warm like butter melting on a frying pan. Still, that wasn’t something out of the ordinary for him to call you. So, you let it slide.

"Well, for sure it’s better than staying in bed tossing and turning."

He let out a small giggle, he knew you were one of those to fight a lot with your bed at night.

"Good morning, love."

"Good afternoon to you?" You didn’t know what timezone he was on, so you tried.

"Try again." He said with a smiling voice.

"Good night!" You said like you had guessed the lottery numbers.

He let out a giggle sound and said, "Give little Nari 1000 kisses from me, will you?

"Why just a thousand?" You said with a little pout. You could hear his playful tone.

"Don’t you know our daughter? She might ask for in real life a thousand kisses; since you are the closest parent, you might fall victim to it, so I think that’s a great number for kisses."

You both giggled, Jung Nari, the lily to our garden, was at that phase where hyperboles would be a tough concept for her to grasp.

"Ok, fine." You agreed still giggling.

"I will call… stay safe."

"You too, Jaehyun."

"Bye."

And the line went silent.

#nct #kpop smut #nct series #nct smut #nct 127 smut #jaehyun smut #jung jaehyun smut #jeong jaehyun #nct x reader #nct scenarios #fic:promissa redux

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darlingshane · 11 months ago

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Salt of the Earth ~ Part 3 (Final)

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x OFC

Summary: She was Carmy's best friend growing up, and Michael never looked at her as anything other than that until years later when she comes back to Chicago to start over. In the process, she turns his sorry excuse of a life upside down.

Content/Warnings: 18+. Explicit, Friends to lovers, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Smut, Shower Sex, BJ's, P in V, Family Drama, Dysfunctional relationships, Addiction, Alcohol, Pets, Pet names, Dialogue heavy, Undisclosed age gap.

Word Count: 12.3k // Chapters 8-10 // AO3 Link.

— Part 1 (Chapters 1-4) // Part 2 (Chapters 5-7)

A/N: This part includes my version of the famous 'Fishes' episode. Though having Maya in it changed a few things, most of it is pretty faithful to the actual script. I also borrowed some of the dialogue to keep it as close as possible.

Chapter 8: As warm as toast

Maya is hugging Michael’s back when the warm breath of her dog is pressed against her ear. She tells the dog to go back to sleep, but Coco, ignoring her request, whines a couple of times until Maya has no choice but to get up. Though it's still terribly early, she takes Coco out to the park down the street from Michael’s building. It's freezing outside, but that doesn’t stop Coco from zooming across the park a hundred times until she’s spent while Maya paces along the fence, wrapped in thick layers of hat, scarf, mittens and a bulky coat.

Upon their return, Maya fills Coco’s bowl and makes some coffee.

They’ve fallen into a nice routine with Michael. He’s made room in his life for them, as much as they’ve welcomed him open into theirs. Half a week they spent in his apartment, and the other half at Maya’s house.

While she sips on her coffee, she tries to guess what's inside the big wrapped box that has been sitting in Michael’s living room for a week. Curiosity has been killing her since she saw it the other day. Her fingers tap on one of the sides and lightly pull on the edge of the red and white paper, trying to sneak a peek of the box.

“I told you to leave that alone, Maybird. That’s not for you.” Michael catches her red-handed as he comes out of the bedroom.

“C’mon, Bear, let me open it already. It’s Christmas.”

“Uh-uh, it’s Christmas Eve.”

“Is it a sex swing? It feels like a sex swing.” She keeps tapping on the box.

“It's not a sex swing. Keep guessing.” Michael snorts, leaning over to kiss her good morning. “Your face is cold, did you go out?”

“Uh-huh.” She glances at Coco, who’s currently devouring her food by the kitchen. “She woke me up and dragged me outside.”

“At least she knows how to hold it and ask for the head.” Michael goes around the breakfast bar to fill a mug with coffee. “Remember that yorkie that Francie had that couldn’t stop peeing everywhere.”

“Well, training goes a long way.”

“That's what everyone kept telling her, but her parents ended up leaving a poor thing in the kennel.”

“I mean it's Francie. I'm not surprised. She really can't be trusted to take care of anything. How's she? I haven't seen her in ages.”

“She's around. I think. Last time I saw her was probably a couple of years ago. She’s banned from our house.”

“Why?”

“Beats me. It's a Sugar thing. I think Francie tried to hit on Pete or something. You'll have to ask Sug.”

“Really? Just when I thought she couldn’t sink lower.”

“Tell me about it.” He pulls up his sweats as he takes a seat on the couch next to her.

“Okay, stop trying to distract me. So, if it’s not a sex swing, or a pizza oven, which I really wanted by the way…”

“The sex swing?” He lifts a brow at her and takes a sip of his mug.

“The pizza oven, smartass. How about… a weighted blanket?”

“First, you don��t need any of those. You can cook pizza already in your oven, and why do you need a weighted blanket or a sex swing when you have me?”

“That’s true.”

“You know what? Go ahead and open it, but you’re gonna need Coco, cause like I told you, that’s not for you. C’mere Coco Girl.”

Coco’s floppy ears perk up at Michael’s call. The dog turns her head to look at Michael for a second before continuing chewing her food.

“She’s too busy to open presents right now.”

“Figures.”

They wait till she’s done, and Maya beams in delight, quickly tearing apart the flashy wrapping paper. That delight turns into a mocking frown when she finds out it’s a big, fluffy dog bed for Coco.

“Oh, you weren’t kidding. It’s not for me.”

“Aw, don’t be jealous, sweetheart. You know I have something else for you. She needed a bed here. This couch is so uncomfortable, no even a dog wants to lay here. She’s always either hoarding the bed or sleeping on the rug.”

“Yeah, I know.” Her lips curve up, watching Coco inspect her present before attempting to curl inside. “That’s it, baby, lay down. Good girl.”

“Are we still up for tomorrow?”

Maya sighs, “yeah, I think so. Did you tell them I was coming?”

“I said you might. Just in case you change your mind.”

“Do you want me to change my mind?”

“No,” he strokes her hair with his free hand. “I really want you there.”

“What are we going to tell, y’know… everyone?”

Everyone – meaning Carmy. Though their relationship is practically nonexistent, the last thing she wants to do is show up holding hands with Michael and flaunt it on anyone’s face without a warning.

“Well, Richie is the only one who knows.” Cause he caught them last week making out at their usual bar. “I guess Tiff knows too. Does it freak you out? Do you wanna back out now?”

“No, no. I just… I guess I’m not ready to announce it on a day like this. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s okay, baby. I get it. It’s driving me crazy, too.”

“If they find out, that’s great, but I don’t just wanna put it out there right away.”

“We’ll just have to keep a low profile, then. How hard can it be?”

“I’ve never had a secret relationship before. It could be fun pretending, even if it’s just for a few hours.”

“We just have to hope Richie doesn’t blow our cover.”

“Oh, we’re screwed.”

“I don’t know about that. But I can tell someone is about to get screwed. Shower?” His brow playfully arches.

“Hmm, you’ve read my mind.”

It’s that rush of excitement of being with someone new that leads them quickly to the bathroom. He undresses her just as fast as she pulls his sweats and underwear off him. He hasn’t finished taking off her bra and his lips automatically invite themselves into her neck as she fumbles to get the water going so it warms up before stepping inside.

Under the warm spray of the water, their bodies fuse together. Lips against lips share a vicious amount of kisses and laughs. Their arms tangle around the other, her hands become his, and vice versa. The steam filling the room boils hotter when Michael turns Maya around and presses himself on her ass while one of his hands slides between her legs. Her palms brace the tiled wall, as his mouth bites the flesh at the curve of her neck. Her moans and curses sound like heaven when the blunt tip of his cock slides into her opening. His hips push painfully slow as her walls stretch inch after inch. Once he’s fully sheathed in her tender pussy, his eyes squeeze shut, he lets his desire guide the pacing of his thrusts. Maya waves her hips at the same time, countering his moves until both find the same rhythm. One of his hands clutches the curve of her ass, keeping her secured, as the other stays right on her pussy, rubbing her swollen clit with passion.

His back turns red as the hot water keeps pouring over him. The fiery pressure rising up in his core makes his cock throb inside her. He looks down to see his length disappear inside her fast with each push. At the same time, his mind dissipates somewhere up, above the mist of the bathroom, somewhere above clouds. It’s like he’s traded one addiction for another. As long as he’s with her, he’s safe. It’s not the healthiest way to deal with it, but right now he doesn’t give a shit. The climb to that high is way faster, it feels better, it’s less toxic, but it lasts shorter. That’s the only downside.

“Michael… please,” her breathing swallows, as she inches close to the finish line.

“I know, sweetheart, shh…. Come for me. C’mon…”

Following her plea, he pushes a little harder, rubs a little faster until her body seizes up. She lets out a strained moan that bounces off the steamed walls, as her opening contracts around him harder than he’s ever felt. Maybe it’s the position. It feels like pure bliss to have her squeezing every last drop of him.

Catching his own breath, he hangs his head down to rest on her nape for a moment. While still riding that high, he slowly slips out of her and drops to his knees on the shower floor. His hands handle her body around so she's facing him. As her abdomen lines up with his face, he glances up to capture her glowing aura, stunning as ever. Maya’s still floating in that same sea of ecstasy he floats on. It makes her look like a goddess from his position. Her dark hair cascades over her shoulders, sticks to her skin as it touches the curves of her chest. Water trails down her body as if she was standing under a waterfall. And like the Goddess she is, he aims to devout himself only to her.

He gently holds one of her legs up, letting his lips glide across the surface of her thigh as he drapes her leg over his shoulder. His mouth waters as it gets closer to her center. Licking his lips, his eager tongue just to taste the heaven between her legs. It's slicked and tender, ready to consume. His mouth fits perfectly against it. Wide open. Desperate to please her with the flick of his tongue and ease his own affliction.

Maya leans her back on the wall, anchors her only feet hard to the floor, and grips at his soaked hair as his tongue works restlessly all over her sex. He sucks her clit between his lips, licks her folds, circles her dripping opening, and revels in tasting both, him and her. In a wild frenzy, he devours it all. It consumes his need and desperation for more. Her moans are exquisite. Her body writhes in his hold as she rises up gracefully to a higher plane.

Chapter 9: Bigger fishes to fry

“Are you really going to wear that?” Asks Maya as soon as she sees the outfit Michael has chosen for Christmas dinner.

“What’s wrong with this?” He gazes at his blue Under Armour shirt and jeans ensemble.

“Workout shirt, jeans and kicks, really? Why don’t you put on a nice sweater at least?”

“Baby, it’s just dinner at my house with the same fucking people I see every year. It's not like the Queen of England is gonna show up to have tea and biscuits.”

“C’mon, Bear, do it for me?” Maya pulls out her big adorable eyes and disarming smile.

“Ugh, alright, only for you.” Unable to resist her power, he easily yields and goes into his bedroom. From a drawer, he collects a dark blue fisherman sweater. Then he sticks his hand into the closet to pick up the vintage jacket she bought him for his birthday. To finish his new getup, he trades his sneakers for ankle boots.

Maya is taking out a dessert from the fridge that she bought this morning to take to The Berzattos.

“Wow,” her head turns when hearing his footfalls. “See, you look so much better now.”

“Yeah? You clean up pretty nice too,” he picks up her hand and makes her spin under his arm, capturing the stunning shape of her body hugged in a cream knitted dress that almost touches her knees. Right below, black leather boots cover the rest of her legs.

“Thanks, handsome bear.” After her spin, her head tilts to the side, capturing a chaste kiss from his lips.

“What’s that?” Michael points at the dish covered in tin foil on the breakfast bar.

“It's a strawberry tart.”

“You made a tart?” He lifts part of the foil to uncover the well-crafted pastry.

“What? Surprised that this tart made a tart?”

“Well, yeah. You almost poisoned me the last time you cooked.”

“You got me. I didn't make it. I bought it this morning when I took Coco out.”

Michael softly chuckles. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to bring that. Have you forgotten about pudding-gate? Donna's going to eat you alive if you show up with food.”

“Oh, I think that night was the first time I got drunk. I don't remember the details. But I do remember the pudding and eating a bowl with Carmy in the garage. Who brought it?”

“Uncle Jimmy's first wife.”

“That's right. She was never seen again after that. Okay, I guess I could bring a bottle of wine.”

“You're gonna make me look bad if I show up with nothing.”

“You could bring the tart, and say that you made it. I bet Donna will be delighted if it comes from the golden child.”

“That's a great idea, baby. It'll be a great distraction when she starts strangling me that people won't even notice this other tart.” His hand boldly squeezes her ass.

“Hey!” she swats his shoulder with the back of her hand. “I thought we agreed to keep our hands off each other.”

“I meant later. Here, I can still get a piece if I want.” He links his arms around her waist and peppers the curve of her neck with kisses, making her laugh with the coarse tickle of his beard.

“Oh, this is gonna be harder than I thought,” she whines when his lips nibble her earlobe.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” He laughs against her ear, gripping tightly at her hips. “I’m not sure how long I can make it without touching you like this.”

“Well, we better think of something…”

Ready to go, they hop in the car and drop Coco first at Maya’s house. While Michael waits in the car she collects a bottle of wine to bring for dinner.

It’s then that she gets jittery about the whole ordeal. It’s been years since she attended one of their functions. Christmas at the Berzattos was never a walk in the park, and as she has heard recently, they still aren’t. But she’s not the one to talk cause the Silvas have always had their own issues, proof of that is her desertion from her own family dinner.

“Okay, kiss me one more time,” she requests after parking at the end of the street. They both lean in to meet in the middle over the center console for a chaste kiss. “One more.”

Michael delves into her mouth a little deeper, hoping it’d ease her up.

As they walk up to the house, they pass Maya’s empty childhood home, and Michael just wraps an arm around her and kisses her hair.

“Their loss,” he mumbles. “Don’t think about them, Maybird.”

“I won’t.”

His arm unfurls away from her body as they get closer to the Berzattos’ house. When they reach the door, they stay there for a minute, filling their lungs with cold air as they muster the courage to cross the threshold.

The house is loud with people talking and laughing when they step inside.

Maya can see Michael's face changing as the door closes behind them. That raw vulnerability, his bashful expression he's not afraid to show her slips once again behind that mask he's fought so hard to get rid of. She can't hold it against him. Everyone has their coping mechanisms and this is Michael's.

She becomes suddenly the new sensation, everyone openly welcomes her as if they hadn't seen her in ages. Which is actually the case. She's bombarded with questions she doesn't really want to answer like — How are your parents? How does it feel being back? Are you seeing someone?

Mirroring Michael's, she just draws her best smile and tries to satisfy their curiosity while Michael takes a smoke break with Sugar leaving her to be eaten by wolves before she can protest.

To Maya’s disbelief, after the third degree, she’s welcomed with open arms by Donna Berzatto, who is just as intense as she remembers. Hair on point, makeup on point, fresh manicure softly scratches Maya’s jaw when she briefly holds her face.

“We've missed you, Mayhem Maya.” Donna actually coined that nickname after that incident when she broke one of her figurines when she was a kid. And she'd never live that down. It makes her feel like a child every time she calls her that or the way she manages to compliment her and patronize her at the same time.

“Hey,” she hears the familiar voice as Donna disappears into the kitchen.

Maya turns around to see Carmy climbing down the stairs.

“Hey, you made it,” she says a little hesitant, trying to decide whether to hug him or just shake his hand as he reaches the last step.

“You too.”

Hug. She goes for it and tucks her arms around his shoulders for no more than two seconds. It feels a little awkward and cold given their history but understandable. They're not as close anymore, and it doesn't come as natural as it used to. She tries to internalize that as best as she can, but there’s still something that doesn’t feel right. Maybe this wasn’t the best moment to show up back again into his life. Being Michael’s girlfriend, no less. Perhaps deciding to hide that wasn’t the best choice after all. It sounded reasonable when she chose that, but right now, it feels like she’s betraying him.

“How's Copenhagen?”

“Cold. How is being back?”

“Weird.”

“Tell me about it… Never thought I'd see you again in one of these functions.”

“Yeah, Michael insisted. You knew I was coming, right?”

He nods. “Sugar told me.”

They shoot back and forth meaningless questions without really diving into anything substantial. For the first time, she looks at his cold blue eyes and realizes they're not best friends anymore. She might have known everything about him once upon a time, but now it feels like talking to a stranger, and it breaks her heart not being able to pass that invisible wall between them.

Maya stares at him one last time as they are interrupted by the rest of the party. He’s dragged to a mindless conversation with Neil and Ted Fak, while Michelle brings Maya a drink and settles with her on the couch to catch up.

Carmy manages to escape the Faks and asks for some help from his siblings that were hiding outside.

Michael does another quick round before disappearing again somewhere with Richie.

“I thought you weren’t serious about bringing her.” Richie takes him to the garage where they open a couple of beers.

“I was dead serious. And please, don’t say anything. Tonight, we’re just friends, alright?” he gives him a menacing look.

“You’re dead for sure when Carmy finds out. Don’t get me wrong I love Maya, but is she all that? Is she worth the trouble, Cousin?”

“She’s all that and a basket of biscuits.”

Soon, Michael thinks. Soon everyone will know how much he loves her but for now, this is for the best. This is what she wants and he respects that.

When they go back into the house, Michael goes checking if she needs a break from socializing. Figures, she probably does as much as he does. She's not in the living room anymore, or anywhere on the first floor. He climbs upstairs and from the cracked door to his room, he finds her snooping around the bedroom with a glass of wine in her hand.

“Hey. What are you doing up here?”

“The bathroom downstairs was occupied, so I came up here, and I realized I never really saw your room. Was it always like this?”

“Kinda. It’s cleaner for starters. The walls used to be covered in Red Sox merchandise and movie posters. It’s all in the basement at The Beef now.”

“Traitor,” Maya mockingly squints her eyes before taking a sip of her glass.

“Why do you care, you don’t even watch baseball?”

“Yeah, but if I had to pick I wouldn’t even dream of going against my own home team,” she says, scanning a pile of CD’s on the corner of the desk and picking one from the middle. “Marky Mark, really? Who are you?”

“That’s Sugar’s.”

“Sure it is,” she laughs.

“This is why you came up here, to make fun of me?”

“Nope, I just like snooping.” She turns around and keeps flicking through those albums while Michael shuts the door to seize that as an opportunity to kiss her again.

“Hey, c’mere.” Quickly wetting his lips, he cups her face as it turns to the side and gently captures the flavor of her mouth soaked in white wine.

“Hmm, we’re a lost cause,” she says as his lips bounce a few times against her.

“I know.” Michael hums, unable to stop himself from going deeper into her mouth.

As she places her glass on the desk, his tongue swipes past her lips.

Michael moves his hands to her hips, as Maya links her arms around his neck, letting her tongue slowly play with his.

His mouth grows hungrier and desperate for more. She can feel it at the eager tip of his tongue demanding more action. He blindly guides Maya to the bed, and almost without breaking from the other, as she settles on her back, he pushes all the coats people left on his bed to the side. Michael lies on top of her, nestling between her legs, claiming ferociously another kiss from her mouth.

From zero to sixty, his hand slips beneath the hem of her dress and hikes the skirt up to her waist to grab her ass. He digs his fingers on her skin over her tights. He could rip the fabric apart in a second if he pressed a little harder.

Maya hums in his mouth, struggling to keep up with the burning passion he's pouring into her lips as the coarse texture of his beard scratches her face.

The setting is a little off-putting for her right now no matter how much she wants him and as his bulge hardens between her legs, she promptly puts a halt on.

“Michael, baby, shh. We can’t do this here.”

“We’re just making out. The door is closed.”

“We’re not just making out. You’re already hard. What if someone comes in?”

“There’s a lock on the door. I closed it.”

“The lock is not the problem. It's this place. This house.”

“The house is cock-blocking you?”

“Pretty much. Yeah. Let’s just take a breath and go back down. We’ll finish this later at home. See, this is why we can’t be left alone.”

“Okay,” he begrudgingly rolls to the side with a sigh, feeling a little disappointed to be honest and stares at the ceiling. “Is it the house or is it Carmy being here?”

“I don't know. Maybe both.” She leans on her elbow to look at him.

“I see.”

“It’s not like I don’t want to. I do. More than you know, Bear. I just feel weird about doing this right here. We said the other day that we should be honest with each other to make this work. And this is me being honest.”

“I know, baby. I get it. I just… All I wanna do is be with you right now. Can't stop thinking about you. That’s why this happens…” he gestures vaguely as his crotch.

“Now, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to give you blue balls. I know how much that hurts.”

“I don’t think you do,” he snorts.

“I’m sorry,” her palm covers her smile. “I really am. But I… I guess I could do something about it. Don’t move.”

Maya’s fingers glide over his crotch to undo his fly.

“Wait, are you changing your mind?”

“No, but I don’t wanna leave you like that either. Just trust me.” She shifts on the bed as her hand slides under the fabric to feel the pressure of his straining erection.

Biting her lip, she locks eyes with him as her fist curls around his shaft as Michael’s hand wraps around hers.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I wanna. Just because I can’t, doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t. Let me do this for you. Please.”

“You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” he sighs, letting her hand move up and down his hardness.

“I know. Just relax for me. I'll make it quick.”

Maya leans closer to his face to lock her lips with his. His low grunts echo in her mouth while her fist prompts him to spill his early drops of arousal. They help her pump more swiftly. He has to bury his sounds deep in his throat when she parts from his mouth and moves her head down his torso so he can finish him with a blow.

“Fuck, Maybird,” he moans as her lips wrap tightly around his swollen gland. Her hand keeps a nice pressure at the base as her head bobs quickly to have him climaxing all over her tongue.

She cleans him up, licks her lips and makes sure nothing was spilled on their clothes before taking a long swig of the glass of wine on the desk to get rid of the aftertaste of his cum.

“God, sweetheart, that was…” he stands up and pulls his clothes together while she finishes her drink. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

“You better.” She collects a pocket mirror from her purse to check her makeup. As she moves Michael's jacket out of the way, something falls from its pocket — a round pill container lands at her feet.

She means to bend down and pick up, but she freezes. It's Michael the one to reach and grab it. Maya stiffens, stares at him as he quickly tucks in his pocket. Unable to process any thought at all, she pins that in her head to revise later. As she intended to do, she fixes her hair and makeup.

Michael should have left those at home. He didn’t even mean to grab them. It was just exactly that– a habit he can’t break yet. Especially on a night like this.

“Hey,” he says softly, holding her chin under his finger and tilts her head up so he can capture her eyes. “We'll talk about it later, okay?”

“Okay.”

She checks her face in the mirror a second time to make sure there’s no visual signs of her just going down on Michael before leaving the room.

Their hands are still linked together when they step into the hallway, and it isn't until they spot Natalie coming from another room that they quickly pull them apart.

So much for being sneaky… There's no way she didn't see that. The shock flashing across her face is telling.

“Michael, can I talk to you?”

“We should go downstairs before… Carmy can't handle all those people.”

“This won't take a minute,” she says firmly.

He glances at Maya, and they nod at the other.

As Maya returns to the party, Sugar can't help but question Michael about it.

“I don't know what you saw, but it's not what you think, Sug.”

“You came out of your room holding hands. You don't have to be a rocket scientist to put two and two together. Are you dating her?”

“Would you have a problem with that?”

“I don't know… It's just… She's Maya. She practically grew up here. In this house. She and Carmy were… you haven't told him, have you?”

“Nobody knows yet. Well, just Richie. But it hasn't been going on for long, and we just thought it'd be best to wait.”

“And you brought her here tonight?”

“I didn't want her to spend the night alone. Do you think it's weird, me and her?”

“I don’t think it’s weird. I… I guess it's a little unexpected. It just caught me off guard. If you had given me a warning…”

“You wouldn't be so shocked. I'm sorry. I wanna tell everyone, but it's all so new, and she's…”

“Maya.”

“Yeah.”

“Look, it's an adjustment, but if you're happy with her, then I'm happy, Bear. Does she make you happy?”

“She does,” he smiles bashfully.

When Michael and Natalie join the rest, Cicero and his wife arrive. Uncle Lee follows.

The delicious smell of food cooking fills every nook with the house and Maya's stomach rumbles under layers of wine. She desperately needs to soak all that alcohol before it's too late.

She goes into the kitchen to find Michael casually leaning on the counter bantering with his mother as she works against the clock, cooking those seven fishes that’s the staple dish of her house.

“You doing good?” He gives Maya a look as she props her hands on the breakfast bar.

“Hm-hm.”

“You hungry too?” He guesses and Maya only nods at his question as Donna points at the meatball casserole on the counter.

“Here,” Michael grabs one meatball from the casserole, dabs the sauce on the edge so it drips as he lifts it up to her mouth. His eyes light up as she carefully bites half of it directly from his fingers. Then he shoves the other half into his mouth. Smiling at the other, both thinking about what they did earlier as they fight the urge of eating each other's mouths again.

A beat after, Maya looks to the side to see Carmy standing by the door as Donna barks something at him. She swallows, watching people come and go out of the kitchen. The timer goes off as voices get louder all around. Maya helps herself to another drink in the middle of the whirlwind of chaos of the heart of the house while Carmy takes him upon himself to organize the mess of the kitchen against Donna's wishes.

“Ma, why don't you let him help you? It's all he fucking does.” Michael picks up another meatball and offers it again to Maya, but she declines this time.

“What was that?” Carmy glances annoyed at Michael. “Like uh, that was a shot or…”

“Wasn’t a fucking shot.”

“Mikey, he’s helping me. Back off.”

“Yeah, that was a shot.” Carmen states more sternly this time. “I'm the guy that does food. You're the guy that what? You-you, uh… You start 100 different businesses and have zero follow-through.”

“You’re the one to talk,” Maya rolls her eyes, taking a long sip of her wine.

“Yeah, what are you doing here? Thought you had a husband.”

“Wow. Leave her out of this, Carm. She’s here cause I asked her to.”

“It’s fine, Michael. Let Annie Oakley take her shots at me.”

“Okay, this is why I didn't wanna come home. This is why.”

“Fuck you!” Donna shouts.

“What the fuck? Why the fuck would you say that?” Michael raises his voice. “It's fuckin' Christmas. Why would you say something like that?”

“Whatever, okay? Whatever.”

“Maya, sweetie, can you bring some ice from the freezer in the garage?” Asks Donna in the middle of the argument, and she just silently agrees.

All their voices ebb as Maya disappears into the hallway that leads to the garage to grab some ice and pull herself together. She stays there for longer than she should, collecting her thoughts and checking her phone for all her friends and co-workers messages and sending some of her own. Her eyes pull away from the screen when the door swings open.

She tucks her phone in her pocket as Carmy climbs down the two steps into the room.

“What are you doing here?”

“Grabbing some ice.” She glances at the freezer where her ass is propped.

“No. I mean, why did you come here at all?”

She shrugs, folding her arms against her stomach.

“Michael invited me.”

“It’s pretty fucking weird, don’t you think?”

“Why? I used to come here all the time when we were kids. Hell, the first time I got drunk was right in this garage with you.”

“Yeah, that’s my point. You and I aren’t friends anymore, Maya. It doesn’t make sense that you’d come anymore.”

“You've made that clear but hey, you’re the one who stopped talking to me in the first place.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know. You tell me. I’m not psychic, Carmen.”

“Doesn’t really matter anymore.”

“No? It matters to me.”

“Guess I got tired of waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me? You’re completely delusional, you know that?”

“Am I? I thought you were different, but you’re just…”

“Just what? Are you going to call me a slut or something? You better watch your mouth.”

“No. You’re… reckless.”

“I'm reckless? For what? Living my life? Growing up? Marrying another guy?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d rather be reckless than be anything like you, Carmen. You think you're better than me, than anyone in here, but you're not. You're conceited. You've always looked at everyone down from your ivory tower like you've never made a mistake in your life. You said you were waiting for me? You had many opportunities to say what you felt, and you never did, why is that? Because you’re a fuckin’ coward. I’ve watched string along girls you weren’t into for longer than you should have. Anytime anyone has shown you an ounce of love, you’ve run the other way. You've shut down me and everyone out cause you don’t know how to love anyone but your self-righteous, narcissistic ass.”

“That’s rich coming for someone who’s fucking my brother.” His voice comes out deeply loud as Maya swallows. “You think I’m dumb? It’s written all over your face.”

Her posture stiffens all of a sudden. She opens her mouth to contradict his words, but she can't. It's pointless. He's chosen to attack, and she's going to stand and take blow after blow without throwing some of her own.

“You had your chance, Carmen, and you never took it. And the worst part is that you expected me to do something about it, but it really wasn’t up to me. I’m sorry I never felt anything for you… but I don’t think you ever loved me like you wanted either. You only thought you did cause I was there all the time. It was easy, right? We were friends. Best friends. And you ruined that.”

“So did you.”

“Yeah, we can agree on that.”

“It’s fucked-up, y’know?”

“What is?”

“You and my brother.”

“You know what’s fucked up?” She pegs him with a harsh twisted brow. “You. Coming here judging everyone and pretending you know anything about me or him. Say, when was the last time you said I love you just cause you wanted to and not because someone said it first? When was the last time you were in a relationship that lasted more than two dates? When was the last time you woke up next to someone and the thought of leaving them ripped your heart apart? I'd rather take risks and be called reckless than feel nothing, do nothing, say nothing at all, and turn into a bitter asshole like you.”

Maya walks past him and heads out the door without giving him the opportunity to respond.

As tears threaten to come out, she stops in her tracks and draws a fortifying breath to keep herself from falling apart. Though she knew sooner or later she’d have to deal with Carmy, that conversation was truly more difficult to deal with than she expected. She couldn't handle that better if he wasn't acting like an asshole.

Disheartened… Maya feels just at home. It really is no different from being with her own family. Next year, she swears she's going to take a trip or just stay at home with Coco, which sounds like something she should've done today. Coming here tonight was a mistake. If she could turn back time to earlier in the day and convince herself to stay at home she would.

In the never-ending night of riffs, she overhears Donna yelling at Natalie in the kitchen as she crosses the hallway. In the living room, Michael has everyone's attention while telling one of his stories. Every one seems entertained except for Uncle Lee that has to poke the bear as usual.

It feels like an eternity until dinner is finally served it doesn't get better once everyone is sitting at the table. No. Because, of course, there can't be a moment of peace, everything escalates from that point.

Maya’s taking a swallow of her glass when Lee starts telling the story about the seven fishes and the Dutch oven when Michael makes a buzzing sound and throws a fork at him. It hits his shoulder.

“Wrong answer.”

“Did you just throw a fork at me?” Lee's high-pitched tone breaks.

“I did,” Michael snorts.

They both start bitching back and forth. The tension strains harder after every word, every sentence interrupted, every thought unfinished.

She places her glass down as the animated conversation grows more heated by the second. The voices get louder. There's a countdown hovering over the table showing how many seconds are left for the bomb to go off. Maya hears the ticking in her head, or maybe that's just the sound of her own heart racing.

In the heat of the moment, Michael borrows a second fork from Fak and repeats the same action. This time he misses Lee's head by an inch.

Everyone tries to put off the fire before it rises, but Michael is too far gone into his own head, nobody can talk sense into him.

“Cousin, you're scaring the normals.” Richie nervously laughs.

“This is fine. It's nothing.”

“Mikey, can you hear me, buddy?”

“Not now, Stevie.”

“Cut it out.”

“Hey, look, here's the thing.” He leans back on his chair ignoring everyone. “You see, I can throw forks cause this is our father's house. My father's house.”

“Okay you have everyone's attention so go ahead, tell us a story we've all heard a million times already.”

“That's good Lee.” He laughs manically while Lee goes on a rant about him living off his mom and borrowing money from everyone.

“… I don't know what the fuck you're on, but if you can hear me through the fog, throw another fork at me, you're gonna get fuckin’ rocked!”

There's a long moment of silence. Michael scratches his beard and gazes to his side, where Maya is sitting trying to process the whole thing happening before her eyes.

“Hey, Maybird.” He says softly, and waits until she looks at him. “I just… You think I could just borrow that for one second…” he points at her fork.

“Michael don't,” she tries to say, but the rest of the table speaks louder over her voice.

“It's okay, baby.” It slips out as he picks up her fork. “This is fine. I’m fine.”

“Michael. Please don't do this!” It's Natalie's words that stand out over the others. “Hey!” She calls his attention and when Michael glances at the opposite side of the table and Sugar lowers her voice. “I love you. Okay?”

“I love you, too, Sug.”

“I'm begging you. Don't do it.”

He vaguely nods. But he's dead set on making everyone shift in their chairs as the ridiculous dispute picks up again.

The flames touch the ceiling, and there's nothing she can do to smother the fire.

Maya nudges his thigh under the table with her knee, and says his name softly, hoping it'd be enough to calm him down. But it's too late, he's already so riled up that not even her can't stop him from rising from his chair, fork in hand taunting Lee non-stop.

Petrified, she stares at the man she loves, the one who looked like a dreamboat when she woke up next to him this morning, turning into something completely different. The cracks of his mask can't hold any longer. Behind it, it all slips out. His haunted expression taking over the rough edges of his face, the sorrow in his eyes, and his tired voice, makes her heart hurt.

“Bear.” She resorts to a term of endearment, but there is no use. He's on a different plane now, guided by his addiction.

Her eyes well up as Lee keeps repeating that he’s nothing. She can see his gears spinning in a different direction and for a moment everyone stays still watching everything unfold until Donna comes into the room.

That only puts a temporary patch on the wound. It's only a matter of time before someone takes it away to let blood spill all over the table. Michael sits back down, pushing his hair back before clutching the fork again in his fist as Donna lights up a cigarette and takes a seat.

“What did I miss?”

“Nothing.”

“I missed something.”

“Uh, Stevie, Stevie's about to say grace, Ma.”

“Ooh, good, yes.”

“Go ahead and take it away there, Stevie.”

“I uh… I don't think…”

“Just say the fucking thing, Stevie.”

The tension eases up for those couple of minutes while Steve improvises grace. It all seems perfect for a moment, they all nod and smile a Steve’s kind words, but that countdown is still ticking down every last fucking second.

Everything afterward is a tableau of surreal events tangled together that would play in Maya’s head for years to come… Donna’s meltdown, Michael throwing the last fork, flipping the table and taking a more physical approach against uncle Lee, Donna losing her hinges and crashing the car into the house, the police attending the disturbance…

Out of all the memorable dinners she's had in this house, this one really takes the cake.

It's the shitshow of a lifetime that nobody will ever forget.

Chapter 10: Basket of biscuits

It’s past the witching hour when all the voices, all the noise, all the sirens, and rumblings of his own thoughts quiet down in his head when he closes the door as he settles on the driver's seat. And at once, the only voice he wanted to hear the most echoes in his head with one simple word — his name. The fear in her tone haunts him. He probably scared the shit out of her after what went down. Staring at the ruins of the front of his childhood home, Michael turns on the engine and takes a final look before steering Maya’s car out of that place.

Maya left earlier, after the police took everyone’s statement. Though she wasn’t as drunk as he was, he begged her to take a cab back home. While Donna refused to leave the house, everyone eventually left as well. Michael stayed all the way through while they boarded up the hole in the wall as a temporary measure.

Sobering down, the road gets clearer the closer he gets to Maya. He can't stand the thought of her being witness to his frantic meltdown. All he can see now, clear as day, the utter disbelief and fright in her eyes when she was pleading him to stop. He should have listened. He should have held himself better in that situation. Drugs or not, there's nothing or no one to blame but himself. That was… Embarrassing. Even for him. He swore he'd never sink that low, that he'd never let anyone see that part of him. It was bound to happen. He lost control and everyone saw. And if he wasn't for Donna interrupting his act, he's not sure how far he'd have gone.

For a split moment, he blames it on something else taking over his actions, like being possessed by one of his demons. But it doesn't last long. He can’t continue denying the fact that he’s the only one responsible for his actions. Claiming otherwise would only delay the inevitable.

They say all roads lead to Rome, and if keeps driving in the same direction, he’d surely find the only possible outcome to this. It’s time to veer off the path and find that there’s more world to see besides Rome.

He has to find a new way, and she is the only thing that could save him from this right now. However, after tonight, it wouldn't surprise him if she was already thinking about kicking him to the curve. He would blame her.

Christmas lights and empty streets quickly take him to her house. He can even imagine what’s going through her head right now… but it’s time to find out.

He parks on the driveway and takes measured steps toward the front door as the weight of the world perches on his shoulders. He feels like shit and the biggest asshole in the world for breaking his promise.

The glow of the TV and tree lights shine faintly behind the curtains when he knocks on the door. He should have called before, he realizes on that spot. Or even just text her to say he was coming so she would know what to expect. But there’s not going back now.

She takes her time to open the door and when she does, he’s met with the reflection of all his fears coming true. It flashes across her face the disappointment and disgust and utter terror of what happened at the table.

“I brought your car.” He reaches out to hand her the keys.

Hesitantly, she collects them, and makes room for him to enter before closing the door behind him.

“I… You shouldn't be driving.”

“It's fine. Sobered out pretty soon after… Where's Coco?”

“Upstairs. Hoarding the bed.” Maya puts the keys on the console table as they stand by the staircase railing. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah, Carm and Sug stayed with her at the house for the night. Everyone else left. ”

“She wouldn't leave?”

“No, she locked herself in her room.”

“That's crazy.”

“Yeah, another Christmas at The Berzattos. Hey, but at least none of us got locked up.”

“That's not funny, Michael.”

“It wasn't meant to be funny.”

“I think you should go… You should've stayed with them.”

“I wanted to check on you.”

“I'm fine.” Her tone says otherwise.

“Are you?”

“I was about to go to sleep.” She’s already slipped into her pj’s and was just watching TV cause she couldn’t fall asleep.

“That doesn't answer my question.”

“What do you want me to say? Of course, I'm not okay. You lied to me.”

“What… When did I lie to you?”

She fights the urge of rolling her eyes and instead, crosses her arms against her midsection to keep herself together.

“You said you weren't using when you were with me, but tonight you did. Instead of coming to me and saying — hey I'm dealing with this and that, you straight up hid it, and then you just… went off. I thought we were being honest with each other.”

He hangs his head down as she tiredly leans her back against the wall.

“I don't know how to help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on, Michael.”

“There's nothing you could've done.”

“Maybe not but you didn't even give me the chance to. I'm really concerned about you and after tonight… I don't know… I'm out of my depth here. I knew it was bad, but it's worse than I thought… If you're not seeing that, if you're not willing to admit that… Then maybe we should take a step back and consider our options before going further.”

“Consider our options? You're getting cold feet now?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just…” she sighs in exhaustion. “You should go. It's been a long night. And I'm not in the mood for this.”

“If you're gonna break up with me, just say it. Don't wait till tomorrow.” Though it’d be the right decision for her to do, he can’t stand the thought of not being with her now that he’s seen what it is to have her in her life. It would rip his soul and heart apart to hear her say those words.

“I don't wanna break up with you, but I can see that you're going through something right now, and I think it’d be best to talk about this tomorrow or the day after with clear heads.”

“Okay, okay…” he says under a heavy breath, as he shortens the distance between them.

Michael cups her jaw, and places his lips gently on her forehead.

“Can I stay here tonight?” He tries to not sound desperate but it fails so badly.

“Michael…” He grabs his wrist and takes a step back to detach herself from his hold.

“Please, Maybird, I don't wanna go. I… I can’t be alone right now. I’d… I don’t know what I’d do…” There’s something brewing inside him and if tonight wasn’t bad enough, not being able to be with her would send him down to that hole of despair he’s dug himself.

“You're scaring me, Michael.”

“Fuck, I know… I know I’m an asshole. I just…” He frantically runs a palm over his beard as he keeps pleading. “I need you. Don’t make me leave. I'm begging you.”

Those words put her between the sword and the wall. As much as he loves him, as much as she’d want him to stay, she’s still shaken and would rather be alone right now. But she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if something happened to him because she sent him away.

Before she has the chance to reply, while she gathers her thoughts he dramatically drops to his knees on the verge of tears.

“Please. I’d do anything for you, but don’t ask me to go.”

“Michael…”

“Shh, shh, shh,” he grabs her waist, pulls her close, and links his arms around her hips, planting his full face on her abdomen. He swallows his sobs in his relentless ramble. “Please, baby, I need you… I’m sorry I lied to you… I’m so sorry that I'm scaring you… I swear I’d never hurt you…”

Her eyes brim with tears and unable to pull away she just holds his head protectively in her hands, threading her fingers in her hair to calm him down.

“You’re everything to me, Maybird. I know I’m a pathetic loser and that I don’t deserve you, but I’m fucking ready… just tell me what to do… I don’t know how to fix this… please just… let me stay…”

“Shh, it’s okay, Bear.” She’s so overcome by the love she has for him, she doesn’t have the strength to kick him out. So, she just gives up to his implore. “We’ll figure it out.”

Michael’s breaking point came like the most unexpected Christmas gift he didn't ask for. He can't return it or exchange it for something else. It's only up to him to either throw it away and pretend it didn't happen or use that as the catalyst to his recovery. They say that sometimes you have to break down to break through. And he went down so many levels, that there’s only one option but to go up from there. No because he feels like he has to, but he'd do anything to stay with Maya, and he knows the only way to do it is to climb out of the dirt.

After falling asleep in Maya’s arms, he wakes up in her bed alone the next morning. The clock says it is 10am when he looks up to her night stand and from the feet of the bed is only Coco, keeping a close watch of him. Her tail starts wagging when he gazes at her and extends his hand to scratch her head.

“Hey, Coco girl.” His voice rasps as she climbs up closer to lick his face relentlessly, slobbering all over his beard. “Okay, okay, that's enough, sweetheart.”

He holds her close and scratches her neck to calm her down, as Maya’s measured footfalls make the stairs creak when she climbs up. He looks to the door and watches her as she enters the room. She's fully dressed and by the amount of layers she's clad in, it looks like she's been outside.

“Morning.” She smiles softly as she proceeds to take off her hat and scarf.

“Morning.” He props himself on his elbow while Coco jumps suddenly out of the bed and circles around Maya’s legs before leaving the room at once. “Went out?”

“Yeah, just went for a drive and grabbed some breakfast. You two looked so cozy together, I thought I should let you sleep a bit longer. You're not opening today, right?”

“No. C’mere, sweetheart.” He finds her hand and gently tugs on it so she would sit down next to him. “I'm sorry about last night, I shouldn't have come here like that. I thought I was…”

“Sh, it's okay. You already apologized, hon.”

“No. That wasn't me. That was fucking embarrassing.”

“Is this you now?” She tenderly moves his straightened hair away from his forehead and combs it softly.

“Think so.”

“You look better.” Her fingers keep gently peppering him with caresses all over his head and neck.

“I feel like shit.” He gets a hold of her hand and kisses her knuckles. “You’re not mad at me anymore?”

“No. I can’t really stay mad at you for long. You know that. And the good thing about all this is that since last night, I haven't really thought about being ditched for Christmas by my family.”

“Fuck, I'm such an asshole… I had all these plans with you after dinner… and I totally ruined everything. We didn't even get to open our presents.”

“It's okay. I promise. We'll try again next year. Maybe just the two of us.”

“You still think we'll be together next year?”

“I have no idea. But I'm hoping so… I want to.”

“God, you’re a fucking angel.”

“I’m not,” she laughs softly.

“Yeah, heaven-sent. You took care of me last night when you had your own thing going on. Not many people would’ve done that.”

Maya leans in and kisses his temple before wrapping her arms around his neck. She bathes him with love cause she’s not sure what else to do than to show him that she needs him just as much.

“How about we get some food in you?” She smooches his head and as she attempts to stand up, he curls his arms around her, pulling her down with him.

“Not yet, baby. Let's stay here for a minute. I'm not hungry.”

She relaxes in his hold and cuddles with him until his phone goes off.

“It's Sugar.” Maya sees on the screen. “Are you gonna pick it up?”

He vacillates, but he ends up taking the call while Maya dislodges herself from his embrace. She collects a tray and some food from the kitchen while Natalie tells Michael that they finally got their mother out of the house. She'll be at Nat's for a few days until they fix the front of the house.

“Yeah… I'll take care of it. See you later.” Maya overhears as she returns to the bedroom with his breakfast.

“Everything alright?” She sits down on the mattress, placing the tray in the middle.

“Yeah. She asked me to go talk to uncle Jimmy's friend. You know, the contractor? He said he could get it done fast.”

“That's good, yeah?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“What's wrong?”

“I don't know… I just… how can I look at these people in the face after what I did.”

“Because you're Michael fucking Berzatto. And you don't take shit from no one.” She tries cheering him up. “Uncle Lee was an asshole. Nobody cares that you threw a couple of forks at him. They're worried about you. And I don't think anyone remembers what you did. Donna upstaged the two of you, I'm afraid.”

“How do you manage to put a positive spin on everything?”

“Someone has to.”

As much as he loves hearing her talk like that is time for a reality check. Besides Maya being the brightest light in his life from the past few months, the rest have been hell. The restaurant has been struggling for way longer than he’d like to admit and has become the biggest failure of his life. His dependency has only been exacerbated by the pressure he’s put on himself to try to fix all by himself. All the lies, the high expectations, and the way his family look up to him for answers and comfort have become a lead weight on him.

The Beef was an inherited mess that was passed down to him when his father died. He took it upon himself to carry the family business to keep the family afloat, especially since Carmen and Natalie were merely teens, and there was nobody else but him to provide for all of them. He always thought he’d had his own restaurant and part of that pipe dream was bringing Carmy along. That dream faded as soon as he got hit with the hard cold truth that managing a restaurant, even a sandwich shop wasn’t as easy as his father made it look. But to be fair the late Berzatto didn’t have the best system either. It was all back door deals and handshakes and fucking agreements with this guy and this other guy. It made him wonder if the old trio had some shady business going on. Even Maya’s uncle was involved at some point, he recalls seeing his name a couple of times in one of the accounting books.

To sum it all up, he was set up with a business that was already failing before got it. His optimism and passion could only keep him trying for so long. The last couple of years have been hell, and at this point he’s not sure if he wants to run it anymore. He’s toyed with the idea of burning it to the ground and starting over, or just selling it and walking away. But there are a lot of factors in play that are stopping him from doing that. Like disappointing his family or the people who work for him. And let's not forget the big question of what Michael would do if he didn’t have The Beef.

With a heavy heart he finally pours everything out to Maya. If someone can understand, it’s her. She knew when her life needed a turn and took it. He’s at the same crossroads right now, but unlike her, he doesn’t feel brave enough to do what needs to be done.

Maya draws a breath, absorbing every single thing Michael has laid out. It’s a lot to process, but her mind is already spinning ideas and questions that could potentially help him.

“You could sell and start over. The Beef is not your failure. It wasn’t even your dream to begin with. And I don’t think anyone will hold it against you if you give it away.”

“I guess I’m not ready to give up, you know? I don’t know what I’d do if I walked away now.” He shifts in the bed, laying on his side, placing his head on her lap while she plays with his hair.

“What about the restaurant you wanted to open with Carmy? It was all you talked about once upon a time. ”

“I can't bring him into this. He's better off without me.”

“He's not. Your brother is fucking miserable.”

“How do you know that? Did he tell you that?”

“No… but we shared some words last night, I don't want to get into the whole thing right now, but I could tell that he's not happy either.”

“Last night… He gave me this thing. It was a sketch he did about that restaurant… I just don't know how to make you both understand that I have no idea how to make it true. He's worked so hard to be where he is now…. I won’t be the one to keep it away from all that.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe you could learn something from him and that teaming up would solve all your problems?”

“Yeah, maybe. But I don’t want to take that chance. I won’t ruin his career. He’s where he’s supposed to be.”

“You know, you’ve talked a lot about not wanting to let everyone down and keeping everyone happy. But when are you gonna start taking care of yourself, Bear? All those people you’re caring for, they’re pretty much grown up. They don’t need you to keep holding their hand. Not Natalie, nor Carmy, nor your mother. And don’t get me wrong, the way you care for them is part of the reason I care for you… but at some point you’re going to have to care for yourself too. Cause I can’t keep an eye on you 24/7.”

“Did you go to shrink school or something?” He scoffs, glancing up at her eyes from his comfortable spot.

“No, I wish! It’s hard to put yourself above anyone else… I get it. But you’re going to have to, Michael. If you don’t, it’ll eventually catch up with you. The pressure, the pills, the need to please everyone…”

“What if it’s too late?”

“It’s not. I promise it’s not. I know it seems that way, but you, asking the right questions… That tells me it’s not too late. And the thing is that you don't have to decide anything right now. But hypothetically speaking, if you didn't have The Beef to take care of, and could do anything in the world, what would you do?”

“Well, If I could do anything, I'd stay in this bed, day, and night with you for a year.”

“Okay, let's say you've done that now. You wake up, get out of bed and where do you go?”

“I've always….” he pauses as the corner of his mouth pulls up.

“What? Tell me.” Her hand fists his hair without pulling.

“I've always wanted to buy a bike and drive across every state.”

“I could see you doing that.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Stop doing that. It's not an unattainable dream, Bear. You can do whatever you want.”

“Would you come with me if I asked you?”

“Hm, I don’t know… I’m not a huge fan of bikes. But I guess if I could follow along with my car and bring Coco with us, I’d go.”

“How about next summer?”

“Bring it on.”

“You know I’m joking, right?” He scoffs.

“I’m not. If you really wanna do that. Do it. What’s that thing you always say… Let one rip?”

“Let it rip,” he snorts and shakes his head, utterly amused by her way of messing up his motto.

“So, let it rip!”

“How? How do you walk away from everything?”

“You put one foot in front of the other and repeat.”

“Well, thank you for just describing walking, baby.”

“I’m serious, Michael. You take enough small steps and one day you’ll look back and won’t be able to see what you left behind.”

She holds his face firmly and dips to leave a small peck on his lips, then plants her forehead on top of his.

“I’d go anywhere with you. Would you?”

“Yeah, always.”

Michael’s palm slides along her jaw as his lips capture her mouth one more time. In this room, on this bed, he feels more safe and loved than ever before.

In the evening, Maya takes Michael to meet the contractor who comes into the house to survey the damage. After that, they swing by Natalie’s to check how Donna is doing.

Maya stays in the car. Her choice. She’s not ready to have another Berzatto reunion so soon.

She’s listening to the radio when all of a sudden a tap on the glass startles her. She glances to the side and finds Carmy motioning with his hand to roll down the window.

Sighting, she turns off the radio, as the glass slides down.

“Hey, can we talk?” His breath manifests in the air.

“I'm not in the mood for you to keep jabbing at me.”

“I wasn’t going to… I just…” he props his forearm on the roof of the car. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. You were right about… well, about almost everything. I have no right to tell you how to live your life and shouldn’t have talked to you that way. I still think it’s pretty weird that you’re dating my brother… but I guess I’ll have to get over it.”

Maya swallows, staring at her hands curling around the steering wheel. It feels forced to hear him say that so soon, but not completely dishonest. He’s making an effort, and she appreciates that.

“Thank you for saying that. I’m sorry that you had to find that way and that I called you a self-serving asshole that doesn’t care about anyone but himself. I know you cared about me… I just…”

“Hey, I get it. We both said a lot of things we didn’t mean.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“I don’t know… I couldn’t sleep last night and Sugar and I started talking, we were up for hours… I guess she knocked some sense into me.”

“Do you think we could ever be friends again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Could we pretend that we are just for five minutes? I need to ask you something.”

“I… I suppose we could. Can I get in? It's freezing out here.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Carmy goes around the car and hops into the passenger seat as Maya closes the window.

“What is it?”

“How's Copenhagen? Are you liking it there? Is it everything you ever dreamed of?”

“It's one of the best jobs I've ever had.”

“That's not what I asked.”

“I… I don't know what you want me to say… I guess I always thought I'd end up here with Michael… But I don't think he even wants me here anymore. Why are you asking me this?”

“God, he's going to kill me for telling you this… But hypothetically, what if he was in trouble and was too prideful to ask for help? What if he wanted to build that restaurant you dreamed of but wouldn't want you to give up your career for him? What if he was thinking of selling the shop but was too afraid of disappointing all of you?”

“Fuck, that's a lot of what ifs, Maya. Is that all true?”

“I can't tell you that, but if that were all true would you consider coming back?”

“You know better than anybody that all I wanted to do is work with him. If he asked, I'd be here in a second. But he's not going to ask, is he?”

“I don't think he's ready yet. I'm trying to help him as best as I can, but I feel like I'm not enough.”

“What do you think I could do if he doesn't want anyone's help… ”

“I don't know… he's too stubborn to ask for help. I'm just running out of ideas here… and he's looking at me like I have all the answers…”

“You think if I came back that'll change?”

“Maybe not, but if there's just a small chance that you were considering doing what you always wanted to do… if he saw that you weren't going anywhere, perhaps it’d point him in the right direction.”

“It takes guts to ask for help like that. And I'm not talking about him. I know you wouldn't be asking if it wasn't serious.”

“Yeah, like I said, if he knew I was telling you this…”

“I won't tell, if you don't.” He smiles softly.

“Thank you.”

“I'll think about it though.”

“Yeah? I'll keep trying too.”

As Carmy leaves the car, Michael comes out of the front door. They meet in the middle and Maya watches them quickly sharing some words before saying goodbye.

“Everything good here?” Asks Michael once he's taken his seat and closes the door.

“Yeah, we were just straightening some things up. I didn't want to tell you earlier, but we had an argument last night. It's all good now…” and she feels like an asshole for going behind his back, but if Michael is too proud or ashamed to ask for help, someone has to. She'd love to have all the answers laid out for him, but she has no idea what she's doing half of the time.

“He knows about us, does he?”

“Yeah, we weren't as careful as we wanted. Even Sugar saw. I mean… you even called me baby at the table. Don’t think anyone really noticed but… I guess it’s out now.”

“Does it freak you out that they know?”

“No. It was never about that. I just wanted to keep it just between us for a little longer.”

As they drive back home they toy with the idea of recreating the Christmas dinner they never go to have the previous night. They make a quick stop at a couple of places to gather some ingredients and scramble something together.

Michael has a lot of faults, but he's a natural in the kitchen. He feels right in his element when he's crafting a meal, especially when it’s for her. There’s no pressure laying on the counter, no bills to worry about, but the need to impress her makes him rise to the occasion.

After dinner, they exchange those gifts they put under the tree in her living room a couple of days ago. There’s a gift basket for Coco with toys, her favorite snacks, a blanket, and bathing products. While the dog is distracted with a chew on the rug, they sit on the couch to open theirs.

Maya’s gift to Michael is considerably bigger than what he got for her, which is a thin flat box as long as her palm.

“You want me to go first?” Asks Maya.

“Yeah, sure. Go on, baby.”

She’s kneeled by his side on the cushion, and he closely watches her hand unwrap the jewelry box that contains a dainty gold necklace with two twin pendants. Two small discs share an M etched on one side but are different on the back. One of them has the outline of a bear, and the other a dog paw.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it, Mikey Bear.” Her free palm slides at his nape. “Thank you.”

“Thought you could wear this one,” he points at the one with the bear, “and I could take the other.”

“Yeah, that’d be perfect.” She inspects the pendants for a bit longer before sliding the one with the paw on it out the chain. “We’re kind of an institution now, like M&Ms.”

“Or Eminem.”

“For sure,” she laughs at the same time she clasps the chain around her neck. “Are you gonna open yours?”

Michael nods and extends his hand to open the big wrapped box waiting on the coffee table. In it there's a record player set with speakers and a couple of Otis Redding albums.

“You’re the best, you know that?” He holds his chin on top of his fist for a second, mesmerized by how much he adores her.

“Hm, I’ve been told.” She smugly slings her arm around his lower back as he inspects his new gift and starts setting all the components on. “Wasn’t sure if you liked Otis, but it’s one of my favorites.”

“Yeah, I dig it. Everyone loves the king of soul.”

Tucking her palm under the hem of his shirt, she kisses his shoulder, as he carefully slides one of the vinyls out of its sleeve before placing it on the platter.

“I haven’t used one of these in a while, let’s see if I remember…” he thinks for a beat, staring at the levels and buttons as he figures out how to set it up.

“You know, there are instructions on the box, right?” She playfully scratches his back.

“Don’t need instructions.”

“Typical male response,” she scoffs.

“Look, it’s done.” After settling the needle in position he hits the on button and stares at the record as it starts spinning. It rotates a couple of times before the first track comes out of the speakers.

Michael curls his arm around her, pulling her flush against his chest as they lean back on the couch. Maya drapes her legs on his lap, pillowing her head on his shoulder as the ever so beautiful melody of These Arms Of Mine plays on the speakers.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Maya tucks her hand in her jean's pocket to collect a keychain of a miniature motorcycle she got at the gas station earlier. “I also got you this when we stopped for gas. I didn't have time to get you a real bike in time but– what do you say, you wanna go on a road trip with me and Coco?”

“A Harley-Davidson? I don't think the three of us can fit here.” He dangles the keychain between his fingers. “But we'll see.”

Maya smiles against his shoulder as he kisses her head.

“Hey, can I tell you a secret?” His voice changes to a softer tone.

“Uh-huh.”

He knows this is far from perfect and that he's probably going to screw everything up at some point, but whether it's perfect or not, right here, in her arms, everything is like it's supposed to be.

“I love you, Maybird.”

She tilts her chin up so he can capture the glint of eyes. She doesn't say it right away, it takes her a couple of beats to build up the courage to say back…

“I love you too, Bear.”

The End.

#jon bernthal #michael berzatto #michael berzatto x ofc #michael berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fanfiction #jon bernthal fanfiction #carmy berzatto #natalie berzatto #richie jerimovich #fanfiction #angst #smut #fluff #darlingwrites #salt of the earth

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canirove · 5 months ago

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Rice, Rice, baby | Chapter 1

Summary: Liv and Declan, Declan and Liv, or the story about how a born and raised Tottenham girl falls in love with an Arsenal player... and its consequences.

Author’s note: Best way to celebrate my birthday? By sharing a new story about my beloved 🥳🫶🏻 I started writing this story back in October after making this gif (that's how Declan looks on this first chapter), and I got so inspired that I even managed to write like a script with everything I wanted to happen from beginning to end, which doesn't happen very often or never tbh 😅 I hope you like it as much as I do, and as always, thank you for reading! 💜

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Masterlist

"And don't forget about the national team staying with us next week. We need to be at our best, the club wants them to keep coming here and not go back to Carrington or any other training centre" our boss says.

"We always are at our best."

"I know, Alex. But you know what I mean.”

"Yeah, we have to kiss their asses" he mutters.

"Shh" I tell him, hoping our boss hasn't heard him.

"You know it's true" he whispers. "Since we don't have enough with our princesses, now we'll have new ones. And I'm sure they are even more annoying."

"If you dislike football and this job so much, why don't you quit?"

"I don't dislike football, Liv. I dislike football players, it isn't the same” Alex says. “And I don't quit because Tottenham is the team me and my dad support, they happen to pay really well, and I need the money. Besides, what will your dad say? He helped me get this job, I can't disappoint him."

"He'll survive" I chuckle.

"I don't think so. If I'm not here, who will make sure his daughter doesn't end up sleeping with a football player? Especially now that we are gonna have some Arsenal ones in the building. They are the enemy."

"That is so stupid."

"The rivalry between Tottenham and Arsenal isn't stupid, Liv. Please show some respect."

"Whatever" I reply, trying to focus again on what our boss is explaining.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Ready to meet our new princesses?" I ask Alex.

"No."

"Well, too late. They are here" I say when the doors of the cafeteria open and the players from England's national team start walking in, Harry Kane leading them.

"Urgh, not him" Alex groans.

"Shut up and get to work. And don't forget to smile."

"I don't want to smile at him. Or at any of them."

"Hello, guys. Nice to see you again."

"Harry, hi!" I say. "How are the Germans treating you?"

"Good, all good. How are you around here?"

"All good too" I smile. "Same as always?"

"Same as always, Liv."

After Harry some other players like Rashford, Stones or Bellingham also come get their orders, and then…

"Hi, what can I get… you" I say, getting lost in the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen.

"A latte, please" he smiles.

"A… a la… a…" I mumble.

"Liv… Liv… Olivia!" Alex says, hitting my arm.

"Ouch! What?"

"His order" he says, nodding towards the blue eyed God in front of me. "Didn't you hear him?"

"I… Yes. A latte."

"That's it" he smiles again, the most stupid giggle ever leaving my mouth. What an amazing first impression, Olivia.

"I… Umm…" I mumble again.

"Liv, hey! Long time no see!"

"Madders, we saw each other three days ago" I say, my brain remembering how to work after hearing his voice.

"It feels like an eternity" he smiles. "Have you met Dec yet?"

"Uh?"

"Mr. Declan Rice. The most expensive English football transfer in history" he laughs, wrapping his arm around the blue eyed God's neck and messing up his hair, somehow making it look even better than it already did.

"You… what?"

"You hadn't recognized him?" Madders says. "I know he's had a big glow up, but he hasn't changed that much since the Euros."

"Yeah… I…" I say, feeling my cheeks on fire and the stupidest person in the world. How did I not recognize one of England's best players?

"Anyway, can I get the same as always?"

"He asked first."

"But he plays for Arsenal and I am a Tottenham boy, Liv. What will your dad say?" Madders smirks.

"Her dad?" Declan asks with a confused look.

"He's been working for Tottenham since before we all were born and hates anything Arsenal" Madders explains. "So if he finds out that you are favouring him over me…"

"You are so annoying, James" I say, rolling my eyes.

"Yet you love me" he smiles. "So, can I get my usual?"

"No" I say, turning around and getting Declan's order ready.

"You are so rude, Olivia…"

"Yet you love me" I reply, making Declan laugh. "Your latte."

"Thank you, Liv" he smiles as he takes his cup, our fingers barely touching but being enough to make my face burn once again.

"You're welcome" I giggle. You are so lame, Olivia. Dear God.

"Can I get my coffee now or are you gonna keep smiling at each other like two teenagers in love?" Madders asks.

"What?" Declan and I say at the same time.

"Flirting with an Arsenal player, Liv… What will your dad say?"

"Shup up, James" I say, turning towards the coffee machine to hide that my face now must be the same colour as Declan’s Arsenal shirt.

"You are an idiot, bro" I hear him say before walking away.

"What? Why? What did I say? Liv, hey. What did I say?"

"Just go drink your coffee, James" I sigh.

"But…"

"Go."

"You two are so weird… Made for each other" he winks, making me roll my eyes again.

Once I'm done with all the orders, I can't help but check around the cafeteria looking for Declan. During the Euros he had already caught my eye, but he didn't look as hot as he did right now. He was definitely aging like fine wine.

When I finally spot him, he's sitting next to other Arsenal players, a soft smile on his lips while sipping his coffee. And then… Then he turns to look at where I am. At me. And his smile grows wider, making my knees feel like jelly.

"Best coffee ever" he mouths, remarking each word.

"Thank you" I reply, definitely smiling like an idiot.

"Olivia, Olivia, Olivia…"

"Holy shit, Alex" I jump when I hear him next to me.

"Flirting with an Arsenal player at work? And him among them all? Your dad is gonna be so disappointed…"

"Shut up, Alex" I say, giving him a push that doesn't move him from where he is standing. "I'm gonna go check that we aren't running out of anything, you know how picky the boss is with that."

"Yeah, run away."

"Fuck you" I reply, showing him my middle finger and hoping no one from the national team has seen it. The least thing I need right now is someone complaining to our boss because of my bad behaviour.

As I leave, I can't help but look at Declan one last time, and to my surprise, he also is looking at me. And when our eyes meet…

"Holy shit" I whisper. Can you get turned on by a wink? Because I'm pretty sure that just happened.

#declan rice #declan rice fanfic #declan rice imagine #declan rice x reader #football fanfic #football imagine

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etirabys · 1 year ago

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did you guys know about courtly love??? because I didn't

My introduction to courtly love was reading a Diana Wynne Jones novella that made no sense unless you know what courtly love is. After crawling confusedly through ancient Livejournal reviews to piece together what the story had been about, I took away that it was a weird medieval knight thing where you talk a lot of guff to a (married) woman without ever expecting it to turn into more than what it is.

The first chapter of CS Lewis's The Allegory of Love explains the concept much more thoroughly. His account is pleasantly bonkers. I now relay it to you. (Note: not only am I skeptical of parts of his account, I read it while sleep deprived, so salt liberally.)

First, a sketch of the relationship:

The lover is always abject. Obedience to his lady’s lightest wish, however whimsical, and silent acquiescence in her rebukes, however unjust, are the only virtues he dares to claim. There is a service of love closely modelled on the service which a feudal vassal owes to his lord. The lover is the lady’s ‘man’. He addresses her as midons, which etymologically represents not ‘my lady’ but ‘my lord’. The whole attitude has been rightly described as ‘a feudalisation of love’. This solemn amatory ritual is felt to be part and parcel of the courtly life.

This seems to have been both literary trope and a real-life interaction pattern (of which the former came first). A specific example in Arthuriana:

It is only later that [Lancelot] learns the cause of all this cruelty. The Queen has heard of his momentary hesitation in stepping on to the tumbril[, a humiliating cart he rode into the city where she was held captive, to rescue her], and this lukewarmness in the service of love has been held by her sufficient to annihilate all the merit of his subsequent labours and humiliations. Even when he is forgiven, his trials are not yet at an end. The tournament at the close of the poem gives Guinevere another opportunity of exercising her power. When he has already entered the lists, in disguise, and all, as usual, is going down before him, she sends him a message ordering him to do his poorest. Lancelot obediently lets himself be unhorsed by the next knight that comes against him, and then takes to his heels, feigning terror of every combatant that passes near him. The herald mocks him for a coward and the whole field takes up the laugh against him: the Queen looks on delighted. Next morning the same command is repeated, and he answers, ‘My thanks to her, if she will so’. This time, however, the restriction is withdrawn before the fighting actually begins.

So, huh. How did this cultural script come to be?

Courtly love as a literary trope began in 11th century Provence. Here's Lewis's sketch of that time and place:

We must picture a castle which is a little island of comparative leisure and luxury, and therefore at least of possible refinement, in a barbarous country-side. There are many men in it, and very few women—the lady, and her damsels. Around these throng the whole male meiny [i.e. attendants], the inferior nobles, the landless knights, the squires, and the pages—haughty creatures enough in relation to the peasantry beyond the walls, but feudally inferior to the lady as to her lord—her ‘men’ as feudal language had it. Whatever ‘courtesy’ is in the place flows from her: all female charm from her and her damsels. There is no question of marriage for most of the court. All these circumstances together come very near to being a ‘cause’; but they do not explain why very similar conditions elsewhere had to wait for Provençal example before they produced like results. Some part of the mystery remains inviolate.

So that's the material background – a lopsided gender balance. But more fascinating is the cultural background where the passion and devotion of romantic love – a passion/devotion Lewis claims simply did not exist as a mode for men to treat women in Europe before courtly love was invented – could not be channeled into marriage because such a stance is incompatible with the social role of a husband:

The same woman who was the lady and ‘the dearest dread’ of her vassals was often little better than a piece of property to her husband. He was master in his own house. So far from being a natural channel for the new kind of love, marriage was rather the drab background against which that love stood out in all the contrast of its new tenderness and delicacy. The situation is indeed a very simple one, and not peculiar to the Middle Ages. Any idealization of sexual love, in a society where marriage is purely utilitarian, must begin by being an idealization of adultery.

In fact, courtly love's rightful predecessor is not heterosexual love but the love of a vassal for his lord. (I am quite skeptical of this as a claim about reality, but less skeptical of it as a claim about literature.) Reiterating a sentence from the first quote in this post:

The whole attitude [of a knight in courtly love with his lady] has been rightly described as ‘a feudalisation of love’.

CS Lewis on that feudal relationship:

We shall never understand [the affection between vassal and lord], if we think of it in the light of our own moderated and impersonal loyalties. We must not think of officers drinking the king’s health: we must think rather of a small boy’s feeling for some hero in the sixth form. There is no harm in the analogy, for the good vassal is to the good citizen very much as a boy is to a man. ... He loves and reverences only what he can touch and see; but he loves it with an intensity which our tradition is loath to allow except to sexual love.

So it's that relationship that courtly love remixes into heterosexual romance. Courtly love ennobles the lover – there's a religious parallel here for sure. And it is necessarily adulterous because marriage is not a matter of personal passion, because distance is conducive to recreational idealization, because the lack of potential sexual consummation is pleasantly purity-coded in a Christian society, and because a wife, being a knight's inferior, cannot ennoble him. So, finally, Lewis says bluntly:

The love which is to be the source of all that is beautiful in life and manners must be the reward freely given by the lady, and only our superiors can reward. But a wife is not a superior.

Coming back briefly to Diana Wynne Jones's The True State of Affairs: I understand much better now the behavior of the protagonist's love interest. He's a bored would-be king in captivity who decides to make the other visible prisoner his midons. He expects her to understand the convention he's following. Why shouldn't he take her on as a concept like this? She, also bored and deprived, benefits from his gifts and minor heroics. He wants an ennobling influence. And besides, isn't idealizing a beautiful woman you never intend to make a move on fun?

#rambl #courtly love #eti reads the allegory of love #the true state of affairs #dwj #about

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thewastes-clangen · 2 months ago

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Updates!

Hi all!!!

Sorry for the absence. I just got done with 10 weeks of counseling a summer camp and it was...sure something this year. Anyways, I'm back to a normal (less physically exhausting) schedule now so I want to refocus on this!

I adore Plagueclan and they are my silly little kitties I think about when I have nothing to do. I also recently gifted myself a new tablet, this time a screen display one! That being said, I've been drawing a lot, and I KNOW I just changed the style of the comic and all butttttt I found a much more comfortable way to draw it, and I think the style will change once more. My bad.

Story wise, we are going to change to a more comic-like format! Similar to the intro comic! Instead of a diary-esque story direction I'm going for full scenes with talking and the like. I'm hoping this will make the story more eventful and dramatic, as it should be. So, starting from the top, I've already got a prologue chapter in the works and scripted out so we will be restarting. The story won't change overall, but we may hit some different beats on the way to set up for future events.

Finally, schedule! I will go back to once a week on Sundays starting next week. This will be page one of chapter one, so it will not be the next moon based on what we have! Just so we're all on the same page :)

Finally, finally I also have a headworld that I'm working on about a Skyclan AU called Return of the Clans, a story where the journeying cats from the New Prophecy never return and the forest clans disband, and many seasons later Skyclan must be the ones to bring them back. The old switcharoo. This is not a comic or even fanfiction yet but more a collection of ideas and clips. However, I do have the allegiances written out and some character designs so I'm thinking I'll make a blog for it as it develops. I'll promote that blog in the case it is made, but for now here's some pretty kitties from Skyclan for you to look at until next Sunday. Thank you all for your continued support and I apologize it took me so long to return.

#clangen #plagueclan #warriorcats #warriors #update

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katsukikisses · 4 months ago

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birds of a feather: chapter one [hawks x reader]

chapter summary: despite being across-the-street neighbors for a year, you and takami keigo have never spoken. today, with the assistance of an unfortunate thunderstorm, that changes.

chapter tags: childhood friends; neighbors trope; alternating povs; conveniently timed thunderstorms and even more conveniently lost keys.

cw: potentially neglectful parenting

prefer to read on ao3? here!

table of contents | next chapter

“Yours is the first face that I saw, Think I was blind before I met you." — Bright Eyes, First Day of My Life

Keigo’s mother didn’t like him talking to the human kids.

She never said it outright, but he could tell she wasn’t a fan of his friendships with them. She would furrow her brow whenever he mentioned a human classmate, or tap her foot anxiously when he took too long saying goodbye at the bus stop. Of course, interacting with humans was inevitable in Kyushu, where they comprised the majority of the population. But just because you can’t avoid them at school, his mother would tell him, doesn’t mean you need to bring them home. Do you understand?

Keigo understood perfectly. His mom was subtly enforcing a “no shop talk” policy—with “shop” referring to “humans”, clearly. He didn’t mind this too much, considering his friendships with his human classmates were largely confined to the bounds of their school. He never went to any of their houses and they certainly didn’t come to his—Keigo was not one of those boys who liked to disobey their mothers.

There was one thing that threatened the sanctity of the no shop talk policy, though: their next-door neighbors, the LNs. Consisting of LN Akemi and Hikaru, their seven-year-old child, and the family dog, Keigo thought the LNs looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. They were nice, normal, and human —everything Keigo and his mother weren’t.

They were also, annoyingly, hellbent on befriending Keigo and his mother. When they first moved into the neighborhood a year ago, they’d sent you, their child, over with a tray of baked goods and an invitation to dinner. Keigo’s mother had graciously declined, citing her busy work schedule, but Akemi and Hikaru didn’t stop trying. To this day, whenever Keigo would run into them in the street, they hounded him relentlessly about coming over for tea, meeting up for dinner, or—worst of all—arranging a playdate between you and him.

“We promise she doesn’t bite,” your mother told Keigo once, when she’d caught him on his way to the park. “You guys are the same age, and you’re already at the same school—wouldn’t it be nice to have a friend in your class?”

She’d looked at him hopefully, as if his response would make or break her day. Keigo felt bad about declining, again.

“Sorry, LN-san,” Keigo had responded, and quickly made up some excuse about being busy or going out of town that day. “Maybe next time, though.”

It wasn't as though Keigo disliked you—he didn’t know you well enough to pass judgment on that. He simply understood how important it was to his mother that they keep humans out of their lives. That was why, whenever he saw you crop up in the window opposite his house every day, despondently watching the other kids playing in the street, he resisted the urge to go over and take LN-san up on her offer.

Instead, he closed the blinds and turned away.

Your mother wished you would try harder to befriend the Takami boy.

You knew this because she voiced it frequently: at the dinner table, in the car, and especially whenever she caught you sitting by the window.

“Really?” she would say, exasperated, before launching into a lecture about your lack of social skills. You’d usually tune her out, having heard the speech enough times to recite it from memory. It always followed the same script: she wanted you to stop staring out the window like a bedridden patient, to go out and play with the kids on your street—maybe invite one over for dinner. She wanted you to make a friend.

Well, that’s easier said than done. And it’s not as if you’ve never tried —in fact, you think you’ve tried harder to make friends than any other seven-year-old alive. You lent pencils to your table mates and didn’t mind when they didn’t give them back. You always packed an extra bento in case someone wanted to share and did your best to contribute to lunchtime conversations. You were even content being the dog in a game of House. But despite all your efforts, no one seemed all too eager to play with you, and they certainly never invited you back for a second round of make-believe. After a while, you got tired of rejection, and it became easier to stop trying altogether.

Of course, if you made any of these points to your mother, she would only bring up Keigo in response. So what if the kids at school take longer to warm up to? you could practically hear her say, You have a built-in best friend right across the street! Never mind that Keigo was one of the kids at school and never bothered to seek you out, either. He had his own friends: a rambunctious, mischievous group of boys who liked to chase girls and argue with teachers. And although Keigo himself never partook in his friends’ antics, he somehow got in the most trouble out of all of them. You suspect it was his eyes, naturally lidded, which gave the impression that he was bored or impudent—something no teacher would take kindly to. You didn’t feel too bad for him, though, considering he always managed to get off the hook with just a tilt of the head and a pretty smile…

You furiously shook your head, clearing your mind of any thoughts of Keigo. You didn’t know why you were thinking about his eyes or his smile, seeing as he practically refused to acknowledge you as neighbors, much less as classmates. That, in your eyes, made him just as bad as the other kids at school.

Reminded of your sad social situation, you turned to face the window, ready to resume people-watching. All that faced you, however, was an empty street. Looking up, you spotted dark, heavy thunderclouds rolling in from the distance, and quickly surmised that everyone’s parents had probably called them home before the storm. You sighed, disappointed. Guess I won't be having fun watching other people have fun, today.

You were about to climb down from your window perch—a small nook in the wall that doubled as your lookout point—when you spotted a flash of yellow and red in your periphery. Speak of the devil, you thought wryly. Keigo was rushing down the street, no doubt trying to beat the rain. When he reached his house, he began rifling through his pockets madly, before freezing, dropping to his knees, and then upturning the doormat. His wings were raising and ruffling in a way that betrayed his agitation, and, after sprawling his hands across every inch up the mat, he rose slowly. You couldn’t make out his expression from your room, but you couldn't imagine it was a happy one.

The wind was picking up now, and the rain clouds were practically on top of you. Glancing back down at Keigo, you saw that he was attempting to squeeze himself under the sliver of roof hanging off the house. His wings were raised protectively over his head, as if they could shield him from lightning bolts.

Yeah, he would definitely die out there.

Without another thought, you jumped down from your perch and ran out of your room. You rushed down the steps, taking them two at a time, until you reached the foyer and threw open the front door.

“Hey!” you shouted across the street. You had to raise your voice substantially to be heard over the howling wind. “Come inside!”

Keigo looked over at you, brows furrowed. “What?” he yelled back.

“Come inside my house!” you repeated, “There’s a storm coming!”

Mentally, you berated yourself. He could clearly see it was storming—it was why he was camped out in front of his own house in the first place! Why couldn’t you think of something more clever to say?

“No, thanks,” Keigo hollered, “I’m good out here.”

Well, perhaps it wouldn’t have mattered how articulately you’d phrased your invite—even when you were trying to save their lives, people weren’t interested in spending time with you. Still, you couldn’t just leave Keigo out there.

“Just come in!” you shouted, getting frustrated, “You are not okay out there!”

As if to prove your point, rain began falling from the sky in heavy sheets. Keigo was soaked within seconds, and even you were getting splashed from your doorway.

Keigo looked hesitantly at his house, then toward the sky—which was only spewing out more rain—and then at you, across the street. A crack of thunder in the distance finalized his decision. With one last backward glance, Keigo rushed across the street, his wings flapping lightly behind him. As soon as he made it through the doorway, you slammed the door shut behind him.

“Um…thank you.”

You turned to face the boy standing in your foyer. While running across the street, Keigo had only gotten further drenched, and water was quickly collecting in a small puddle around his feet. His hair, usually golden and fluffy-looking, was now plastered to his forehead in a brown clump, and his wings drooped with the weight of the water.

“You’re welcome,” you replied stiffly. You didn’t have much practice talking to other kids your age, so you were lost on what you were supposed to say in a situation like this. The weather, you decided, was immediately out.

Before you could humiliate yourself by blurting out something ridiculous, a violent shiver racked Keigo’s body. You realized the air conditioning was blasting his wet clothes on full force, and quickly jumped into action—he definitely wouldn’t be friends with you if you let him catch pneumonia on your watch.

“Ah, I’m sorry!” you apologized, “You must be cold. Here, follow me.” Without thinking, you grabbed Keigo’s hand and started pulling him up the steps. He briefly tensed in your hold, before relaxing and allowing himself to be guided by you. You guided him to your room where you began pulling out spare towels from your drawers and throwing them on your bed. “Use those to get dry.”

You turned around, expecting to see him toweling off, but instead, he was inspecting the posters on your wall.

You flushed as you realized what was happening: you were having someone over for the first time, and they were judging your room. Was this a test to see if you’re cool? Would he decide if you’re worthy of being friends with after this?

Keigo noticed you watching him and pulled back from the wall. “Sorry, I was just seeing what kind of stuff you’re into.”

“Oh,” you said awkwardly, “That’s fine.”

He grabbed the towels off the bed and quickly began drying off. He was still shivering slightly, which concerned you—your mother warned you to always dry off with a towel after getting out of the pool, lest you get sick. You anxiously wondered if too much time had passed between Keigo getting rained on and toweling off.

“So, how did you know I was locked out?” Keigo asked, dragging you out of your thoughts.

“Oh, I saw you from the window,” you answered immediately, before realizing how creepy you sounded. “I mean, um, I was passing by the window and I happened to see you at the door, since, you know, we’re neighbors and—”

“‘S fine,” Keigo cut you off. “I know that you like to be by the window. I’ve seen you up there, sometimes.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly, “You have?”

“Yeah, you’re always watching the other kids.”

His reply elicited an embarrassed squawk from you. “I’m not watching the other kids!” you exclaimed, “I’m—I’m scouting ! I’m looking to see if anyone here is cool enough to be my friend. That’s why I have to watch them…in action.”

Keigo dragged the towel through his hair, flattening it to his forehead. He peered at you skeptically through a golden curl. “...Sure. Whatever you say.”

“It’s true!” you insisted, becoming defensive, “And it’s not like you would know, seeing as no one here’s good enough for you to play with!”

Keigo paused at this, one hand still fisted in a towel, but you barreled on, unable to stop. “Whenever I’m watch— scouting the street, I see the way you turn down everyone’s invites. You have all these friends at school, but refuse to hang out with anyone in your neighborhood! Guess you’re just too cool for us, huh?”

(Of course, you didn’t really care whether he hung out with the kids on your street or not. You were referring more to the fact that he’d rejected every play date your mother proposed and completely ignored you at school—but he didn't need to know about that).

“I…I don’t hang out with our neighbors because my mom prefers me to go straight home after school,” Keigo spoke slowly, as if trying to choose his words carefully. “And plus, I don’t think I’d get along with them too well. We’re… different.”

At this, he switched from toweling off his hair to his wings, drawing your attention to the red plumage. They looked darker when wet, you noticed.

“You mean, because you’re a hybrid?” you asked tentatively.

Keigo’s back stiffened, causing his wings to raise minutely. The motion sent tiny droplets of rain flying across your room.

“Yeah, that’s what I mean,” he responded. His face was blank—too blank. “Humans and hybrids are different.”

“How so?” you inquired, before immediately backtracking.“I mean, obviously we’re different, physically. But at the end of the day, we’re all just people.”

He fixed you with a searching look. “Are we, though?”

You were stumped. “I mean, yeah. We both eat food and breathe oxygen. We both go to school and watch TV. I don’t see how we’re that different, you and I.”

Your neighbor blinked curiously at you. The clouded sky outside did little to brighten up your room, and, against the shadowy backdrop of your curtains, Keigo’s eyes appeared luminescent. He shook out his wings—now dried—and turned away from you.

“You watch TV?”

“Um, yeah, I do,” you replied, confused again. Was your conversation about hybrids over? Talking to Keigo was kind of hard. “Do you…want to watch something?”

Keigo turned back around to you, finally. “Sure,” his lips quirked up minutely—half of his usual smile, and even less than the kind he’d deploy to get out of trouble with teachers. Still, you’d take it.

“Okay,” you smiled back, relieved. You led the way out of your room and into the living room. “So, we have Nickelodeon and Disney, or we can watch a movie…”

LN Akemi didn’t ask for much in life.

Not anymore, that is. When she was younger, she wished for many things: a stable job, a beautiful house, and a lovely family. In her thirties, she acquired all those things, and believed that, at last, she could spend her wishes on superfluous and material things.

Oh, how wrong she was.

The thing no one tells you about having a child is that their problems become your problems. Now, instead of wishing for a promotion at work, Akemi found herself wishing you would recover quickly from your cold. Instead of wishing for more clients at the firm, she wished you would do well on your Geography test.

Most of all, Akemi wished you would make a friend.

She saw the way you stared out the window: cheeks pressed against the panes, hungrily drinking in the sight of children running in the streets. As if you could live through their joy, their experiences. She saw the way you packed extra lunches and pens, returning each day with an unshared bento (yet missing stationary). She wished you wouldn’t have to look out the window. She wished you wouldn’t lose your pens.

Akemi didn’t understand why you had such trouble making friends. She knew that all mothers tended to regard their children as perfect, but you were truly the closest thing there was. You were kind, intelligent, and funny in a way that she didn't really get—so why did none of these brats want to hang out with her child?

Regardless of the answer, Akemi found herself making wishes for you whenever the opportunity arose. An eyelash blown off the cheek, a penny tossed in the fountain—she must’ve made hundreds by the time you hit the second grade. Which was why she couldn’t help but squeal when she returned from work one evening and found Takami Keigo sitting on the couch with you, watching a re-run of Phineas and Ferb.

“Oh!” she dropped her grocery bags in surprise, spilling produce across the floor. “I didn’t realize you were having a friend over, dear!”

You stuck your head over the couch and gave her a look that said, Don’t make it sound like I never have friends over. “Yeah, Keigo-kun was locked out of his house during the storm, so I invited him in.”

Akemi could've wept from joy. A blessing in disguise!

“Hello, LN-san,” Keigo got up from the couch and bowed respectfully. Akemi almost squealed again. “I’m really grateful that LN-chan invited me over. I won’t intrude any longer, though—I’ll head home now.”

“Oh, no, honey,” Akemi quickly said, “You’re not intruding at all! Why don’t you stay for dinner? I was just about to get started.”

“Yeah, stay for dinner,” you agreed. “Plus, didn't you say your mom's still at work? You’d be locked out, anyway.”

Keigo shrugged. “Yeah, but I can go over the fence and hang out in the backyard or something. It’s my fault for forgetting my keys.”

Both you and your mother frowned at this, but Keigo didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves and headed over to the kitchen, where he began gathering up Akemi’s dropped groceries.

“Let me help you with dinner,” he insisted.

Akemi could feel her eyes welling up. This was more than anything she could’ve ever asked for. “Oh, aren’t you just the sweetest!” she gushed, “No, that’s quite all right, dear. Please, continue watching your show.”

The young hybrid nodded at this, but continued to help her put away the groceries, anyway. Not wanting to be outdone in your home, you also meandered over to the kitchen, picking up a rogue head of broccoli along the way.

“Keigo-kun,” you began, nervously turning over the produce in your hands, “If your mom doesn’t come back until really late, do you want to spend the night here?”

Keigo looked conflicted. “I don’t know. I’ve never had a sleepover before—like I said, my mom doesn’t really like me going to others’ houses.”

Akemi couldn’t help but silently agree with Keigo’s mom’s decision. You never knew what could happen at a sleepover, especially as a hybrid…

“Well, we could ask her for permission,” you suggested, “Do you have her phone number?”

Your new friend looked uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken. “Um, yeah, but I don’t know if she’d be able to pick up. She’s really busy at her job.”

At this, Akemi could not help but feel a little concerned. What kind of job doesn’t allow a mother to answer a call from their child? Plus, a glance at the clock on the wall told her it was nearing eight in the evening. How long did Takami-san work for?

“Well, why don’t we do this,” she deftly interrupted their conversation, “Keigo-kun, we’ll plan as though you’re spending the night for now. Y/N can set up sleeping bags in the living room, and I’ll go grab you a change of clothes—I believe we have some that’ll fit you nicely, from the last time my nephews visited. When your mom returns from her job, I’ll go over and explain the situation, and you can decide if you want to stay or not. Does that sound good?”

You looked at Keigo hopefully. The hybrid turned toward you, catching the optimistic look on your face. “Sounds good,” he agreed after a moment’s hesitation.

You cheered, tossing the head of broccoli in the air in favor of dashing upstairs to find the sleeping bags. Keigo smiled, picking up the abused vegetable, and resumed helping Akemi sort through the groceries.

“Thank you for letting me stay, LN-san,” he said earnestly.

For the nth time that day, Akemi held back a squeal. He was just too cute! “Of course, Keigo-kun. I’m glad that you and Y/N are getting along—I told you she doesn’t bite, right?”

From upstairs, there was a heavy thump, followed by a soft “Frick!”

Keigo’s mouth quirked up in a wry smile. “Yeah, definitely no bite.”

Akemi held back a smile herself. “I better go help her wrangle the sleeping bags. Please make yourself at home here, Keigo.”

The young hybrid gave her an appreciative look, before continuing to dutifully sort through her groceries. As Akemi headed upstairs, she couldn’t help but feel deeply satisfied by the outcome of her wishes.

Next Chapter

author's note: I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter! I've had this idea for a while so I'm excited to share it. Thank you for reading and if you enjoyed it, please let me know what you thought in the comments. Constructive criticism is always welcome :)

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sweetcarrotsandroses97 · 1 year ago

Text

~ Reminder of Reality | JJK

Pairing: CEO!husband!Jungkook x writer!fem!wife!Reader

Warnings: arranged marriage, fluff, angst, talks of pregnancy, talks of sex, food, OC eats meat, Jungkook is a sweetheart, beware of the in-laws!, idiots in love, guys we have some progress! (let me know if I missed anything!)

Summary: Sentiment sneaked into the large cracks in your marriage with Jungkook. Emotions revealed another side of him as well as an intimate point of view about yourself. The waters of your relationship are getting deep with both affection and obstacles between you two. Brought back from his dreams to reality, Jungkook must make a decision to change his fate, that is if he wants to keep you by his side forever.

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N Let me know your thoughts in the comments, guys! This is a longer part than chapter 1, I really hope you will like it and remember that drabbles are open for this universe! My inbox is open so please send me some asks while I write the next part!

Please take care and thanks for giving this story a chance, happy reading everyone!💜

It's been two days since Jungkook recognised the feelings that have been residing in his heart for some time now. Since that talk he had with Jimin.

A text from his mother made his stomach churn with nerves, not because of what was written in it but because of the meaning of the words she texted him.

Jungkook stood in front of one of the large windows in his office, phone in hand while he pondered how to approach you about the matter of his mother's text. He planned conversation after conversation in his head only to discard it in the end.

His mental scripts were only making him more anxious than he already was with the fact that he had to call you during his work hours.

Anyone who could be in his shoes at that moment would have made the call an hour ago but this wasn't anyone. It was about you and Jungkook and the complicated yet still easy relationship between you two.

It wasn't of hate but it wasn't of love either. The word of marriage didn't resonate as sweetly as it should have been but he couldn't say it was a bitter experience. It was just unknown territory for the both of you.

Jungkook took a deep breath, pressing your contact in his phone as he pressed the device up to his ear. It rang and rang, with each tone as his call went unanswered, the more nervous he felt.

Not because of making the call, but because of who he was calling. It was you. The woman who carried the title of his wife, you with whom he had been living for nearly a year now, you whom he liked in a way that was supposed to be normal between husband and wife yet it didn't exist between you and Jungkook.

So he waited. Waited until you answered his call, eyes fixed on the city that looked so small from where he stood. Heart raising with anticipation of hearing your voice while his stomach churned with the nerves of messing up somehow.

You were pouring yourself some hot water on your favourite cup to make some tea to enjoy in the chilly flat. You had just finished writing yet another chapter of your book and now came the revision you gave it before sending it to your editor.

It was tiring to do so, but you also rejoice in the fact that you allowed your ideas to rest for a bit while also seeking the opportunity to improve your writing.

Just as you finished making your tea, you heard your phone vibrating in the quiet flat from the living room. With a sigh you put the cup down on the counter as your legs carried you back to the living room. Your hand reached for your phone and you felt how your heart skipped a beat when you read it was Jungkook calling you.

Without wasting another second, you picked up his call, your phone was pressed to your ear as you spoke.

"Hello?"

Your husband had to suppress the small sigh that left his lips in content upon hearing your voice.

"Hi, (y/n). I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

You smiled, eyes glancing back at the kitchen where your cup of tea rested before you answered.

"No, I was just making myself some tea. Do you need something?"

You heard him let out a deep breath from the other line as you walked toward the glass windows, the curtains were pulled at the sides and you were greeted with the beautiful view of Seoul from the tall building where your shared apartment rested in the quietness of the lonely sky.

"Yes, actually. I wish I could ask you this in a different way, though. But my mother texted me and asked if we both could join her and my dad tonight for dinner. I'm calling to see if you don't have any plans for later today."

How considerate. Was the first thought that crossed your mind after hearing his words. Jungkook had never forced you to do absolutely anything you didn't feel comfortable with nor did he ever put you in conflicting situations.

However, when you agreed to become his wife, there were other roles you also had to fulfil. One of them being a daughter-in-law.

You suppressed a sigh before responding in a neutral yet soft voice.

"I'm free tonight, actually. Should I wear something specific?"

Jungkook could sense the subtle tension behind your words, it wasn't easy for you to meet his parents and he knew it but there were things he couldn't help but get over with. The four of you haven't met formally for awhile and he knew such a meeting couldn't be postponed any longer.

"Thanks (y/n). I'll pick you up at 5:00 and wear something formal, please. You know how my parents are."

"Of course. Text me if there are any changes of plans."

He nodded, big doe eyes fixed on the city beyond him. Not knowing you were also looking at the enchanting view from your apartment.

"Sure. See you at five, then."

"Goodbye, Jungkook."

And with that, the both of you hung up at the same time. He pocketed his phone, heart racing with the echo of your voice invading his thoughts.

He knew you weren't too keen on these types of family gatherings yet you had agreed to go. Despite the raw circumstances in which your marriage with Jungkook bloomed. He knew marrying you was only a play in the big inheritance he was going to receive eventually.

Marriage was a business. That was what he was taught since early years but now, he hoped he could make the relationship between you and him something more than the cold signature and the expensive rings that bonded you as his wife.

Your phone was still in your hand, your arm resting by your side as the conversation you just had with Jungkook replayed in your mind over and over. His sweet tone, the soft words. It made your heart flutter with feelings you had been denying for a while now.

Yet there was a part of the conversation, a sentence he spoke to you that just wouldn't leave your mind. Getting engraved not only in your memories but, unknowingly, in your heart as well.

"I wish I could ask you this in a different way, though."

Ask me what? You thought to yourself, your left hand came to your neck as your fingers massaged the tender skin there as the sunlight reflected on the silver wedding band on your ring finger.

You didn't exactly know the meaning of those words. He sounded disappointed when he had expressed such a wish to you yet you couldn't determine the reason behind such a feeling.

Or maybe you knew it already, but your mind refused to accept it. A fact as tangible as the ring that screamed to the world you were taken but at the same it was a fleeting thought, a simple assumption over your own desires. Your own fantasies.

What did you mean by that, Kook?

The sun was about to set in the horizon. The sky was getting painted in different orange shades as the blue in it began to darken and melt with the rest of the colours, creating a beautiful view over the city.

Yet Jungkook was on his way to see another kind of beauty. His wife, you who were waiting for him to pick you up from the flat. He couldn't stop thinking about you since that phone call he had with you earlier today.

He imagined your smile when you would see him and how beautiful you would look dressed in one of the expensive dresses stored in your closet he bought for you.

His left hand was curled around the steering wheel of his car, wanting to stop somewhere before going back home to you, hoping that you would like his little surprise.

While exiting the building, Jimin gave him a knowing look, one that made the younger man roll his eyes at the teasing of his friend. But now, those feelings of excitement were replaced with soft longing in his heart to see you, not being able to deny the happiness that blossomed in his soul every time he got to see you or hear your voice.

You were spraying your favourite perfume over your neck and wrists when you heard your husband enter the flat, the door locking itself behind him. You couldn't help but smile at the mere thought of him, your feet carried you out of your shared bedroom, over the hallway and into the living room where you could see the entrance way.

Your eyes locked on his figure. A fluttering in his stomach tainted his cheeks a soft shade of pink when Jungkook's eyes rested over you. He took you in, your figure cladded in a beautiful and elegant black dress with a squared neckline and slightly puffed long sleeves. Your hair was styled beautifully with a simple headband also in black.

"You're home."

Your words reached him like a soft summer breeze, peaceful and delicate. He smiled, taking off his shoes with ease before walking to where you stood, his hands behind his back.

"I told you I'll pick you up at 5:00."

Jungkook stated, your eyes glanced quickly at the clock hanging on the wall only to notice it was five o'clock sharp. Just like he had said.

"You look beautiful, by the way."

A smile was painted over your lips at his compliment as your cheeks were dusted in pink. You had to glance down or you knew your face would be as red as a tomato if you were to look into his eyes at that precise moment.

"Thanks. I hope you like the dress."

Unknowingly to you, he smiled. Jungkook felt how his heart constricted with the rising tension in the living room. It wasn't a bad tension, nor in a sexual way. There was tension between two people who liked each other but were too afraid of saying anything. Chemistry, it's how he'd describe it.

"You are always beautiful, (y/n). It doesn't matter what you are wearing at all, you are and will always be the most beautiful woman in my eyes."

You couldn't help but snap your eyes up to gaze into his own. You drowned in his dark pools filled with emotions you didn't understand, unsaid words you weren't quick enough to catch.

Jungkook took a deep breath, as if he had resurfaced from being underwater. As if a bubble had popped and he was able to breathe once more. Perhaps he had been trapped in a bubble of perfection in which only you and him existed.

But he was back in the real world quicker than he would have liked.

"I... we should get going."

You cleared your throat, snapping out of your thoughts as you offered him a soft smile.

"Of course, let me just grab my purse."

And with that, you were back into your shared bedroom, leaving your husband standing alone in the middle of the living room. Your heart was hammering like crazy inside you as you gazed at your own reflection through the mirror, purse in hand while you prepared yourself to face Jungkook once more.

Your husband ran a hand over his face, trying to cool himself down and to stabilise his heartbeat. The motions reminded him of the thing he was hiding behind his back all this time. His eyes fixed on the marine blue velvety box he held in his left hand decorated with a small and elegant silver bow.

It was a small gift he wanted to give you, the reason why he left the company half an hour earlier than what he had originally planned. Only to buy you that. Why? He didn't know it yet. He only felt like giving you something.

"I'm ready, let's go."

Your voice made him turn around, hiding the present behind him once more. Jungkook could say he nearly jumped at your words, having not heard you walk down the hallway.

"Wait, (y/n)."

Blinking at him, you waited. Expecting his next words. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly with the motion.

"I-I have something for you."

You arched an eyebrow in curiosity and he sensed that as his cue to take a couple of steps towards you until he stood at arms length and handed you the box. Presenting it to you in an almost shy way that had you smiling softly.

"What's this?"

He watched as your fingers took the box, your fingers brushing his own with the action as your touch sent sparks of electricity throughout his body that he had to suppress a shiver.

You gasped when you opened the lid, your (e/c) eyes scanning over the beautiful necklace that lay over a thin layer of black velvet. The piece of jewellery was crafted in white gold, three chains followed the lock, each one a bit longer than the last one with a ruby tear at the end creating a beautiful design.

"Do you like it?"

Jungkook asked. Your expression told him nothing and he was growing anxious over what your reaction to his gift would be. Yet no words could escape you as you were mesmerised by the necklace itself.

"How... Why, Jungkook?"

You asked in a small voice. Soft like the wind yet carrying the strongest of emotions he wasn't able to grasp.

"I only wanted to give you something. I thought it would suit you."

Your eyes lifted from his gift and locked with his own dark yet wide orbs. You smiled, easing the worry craving in his chest.

"It's really beautiful, thank you. I wish I could give you something too."

Jungkook shook his head, a smile of his own appearing over his handsome features, that smile you loved so much.

"I'm glad you like it. You don't have to give me anything, (y/n). Your mere presence is enough."

You bit your lower lip, trying to suppress the big grin that threatened to break over your red lips.

"Will you help me put it on?"

His heart fluttered at your request. So innocent yet it broke havoc inside him. With a raging storm of butterflies fluttering in his stomach, his heart skipped a beat as his fingers grabbed the necklace from the box.

You turned around, putting your hair to the side and exposing the back of your neck to him. Jungkook helped you click the necklace as you felt the coolness of the expensive jewel against your hot skin.

The smell of his cologne invaded your senses and the moment between you two lasted too long for your fluttering heart but it ended too soon for your yearning soul.

"There."

You turned around at his announcement, a soft smile graced your lips.

"I really like it, Kook."

Your eyes went wide at the small slip-up. That nickname existed only in your mind for him. Never had you ever thought of calling him that but he didn't seem to mind it as he only flashed you a smile.

"A beautiful jewel for my beautiful wife."

The ride to the restaurant was silent. But it wasn't uncomfortable. It was nice. There wasn't tension between you two as you thought there would be due to each of you being stuck in your own heads.

Jungkook couldn't stop thinking about the way you had called him. That nickname was simply a short way of his given name but he couldn't say he despised it, not when it was you who had spoken it.

He couldn't ignore how his heart had skipped a beat at the sound of your referring towards him. He found it endearing; a memory that would stay with him despite the outcome of his own wishes of progression in the tangled mess of emotions he found himself in.

You on the other hand couldn't stop thinking of what Jungkook said to you. His words meant so much to you than he probably realised.

"A beautiful jewel for my beautiful wife."

He had said. He not only had called you beautiful, a compliment you had received throughout your adulthood more times than often, but he had called you his. His wife.

Even when you both were married under a cold arrangement, you weren't going to deny the butterflies that wildly fluttered in your stomach when he called you his. When he thought of you as his. A partner to stand by his side forever, a wife not only by certificate but bonded by different things, bonded not only with a ring but with feelings involved in between.

Could he feel something too?

But before you were allowed to ponder more into those kinds of thoughts, Jungkook parked the car and sent you a soft smile before he exited the vehicle.

You had been so engrossed in your own mind, your thoughts about your husband that the seemingly long ride to the restaurant felt like nothing. Time flew like wind, as if holding water in your hands. That was how you perceived time when Jungkook was in your life, being that physically or only existing in your thoughts.

He walked around the car and opened the door for you, offering you his larger and inked hand out for you to take. You did with a smile on your face, thanking him softly before you two ventured into the restaurant where you would meet his parents once more. The two people who arranged your marriage with Jungkook.

The greetings and fake smiles went by without you paying it much thought. You focused on your mother-in-law when she spoke during the meal while you were cutting a piece of steak for yourself.

"That is a beautiful necklace that you are wearing, (y/n)."

She commented, you felt Jungkook look at you briefly from where he sat next to you. A polite smile plastered once more over your features.

"Thanks, Jungkook gave it to me."

"Mmm, I see."

She answered, taking a sip from her wine as you ate a piece of your own dinner, feeling the soft texture melt in your mouth. The conversation carried itself mostly between Jungkook and his father, talking about the company and future plans.

From what you had learned yourself, Jeon Enterprises was a large company that made sophisticated electronics. Their most popular product was their innovative cell phones, you having one yourself.

You admired the company as it had been passed through generations of Jungkook's ancestors as they had first traded with ink back in ancient history. And you couldn't be more proud of your husband to inherit such an empire.

You sat quietly next to your husband as he explained one of his upcoming plans for the company, you were taking the last sip from your wine before Mrs. Jeon spoke once more in between a pause in the conversation.

"Tell me Jungkook, when are you two both going to have a child?"

Her question made you choke on the alcoholic beverage you were previously enjoying. You put the glass down as you coughed a couple of times.

"Are you alright?"

You nodded at your husband's worry, his big eyes resting over you.

"Yeah, sorry. I wasn't expecting to... you know, talk about this during dinner."

Mr. Jeon rested his cutlery against his plate as he spoke, his eyes dancing between you and Jungkook.

"When else are we going to talk about it, then? You need a child to inherit, Jungkook! That's why we married you off, so the company won't be lost to the actionists."

You felt yourself shrink into your seat, but you weren't going to give them the satisfaction. Did they really arrange your marriage with Jungkook only so that you would get pregnant? What if Jungkook had been so attentive and sweet lately because he wanted to have sex with you?

He needed an heir for him to inherit. He needed a child. He had to become a father but that child wasn't going to be produced by osmosis. He needed to be married, have a stable family so that he could inherit his empire of centuries.

Was that his purpose all along?

"(y/n) and I haven't talked about that, father. It is not only for me to decide."

You looked at your husband with a surprised gaze, your previous thoughts melting like butter in a pan with that statement, you could practically read the sincerity in his words.

"Well, you two better talk it out sooner than later. I want to have grandchildren, Jungkook. And you (y/n), haven't you initiated anything? You should be pregnant by now giving how much time you two have been married. This was the only purpose of your arrangement."

Now that hurts. You didn't know why but it did. Deeply. To be considered a child machine only for their legacy to continue.

"Mum!"

Exclaimed Jungkook, his hand tangling with your own beneath the table but you spoke before the situation could escalate more than it already had.

"I believe that is a private and intimate conversation I must have with my husband in due time, Mrs. Jeon. Please understand that is a matter we must solve as a couple whether we had been arranged or not."

Silence circled the table the four of you were sitting at. Your voice had been calm yet firm at the same time, stating your point without being rude. Call it a polite way of saying " don't butt in " and you hoped it had worked.

Jungkook gave your hand a squeeze under the table, you had forgotten for a bit that your hands were intertwined behind your in-laws' prying eyes.

"If that was all you two wanted to talk about, I hope you are satisfied with (y/n)'s response. We will be taking our leave now, the bill's on me."

Jungkook stood up after those words left his lips, he pulled you up with him and you barely had time to grab your purse with your free hand before he was pulling you with him toward the same way the both of you entered the fine restaurant.

"I'm sorry about what happened back there at the restaurant."

Jungkook spoke, his voice was filled with a heaviness you couldn't quite place.

"It's alright."

You said, not wanting to dwell on that conversation any longer. Your husband turned to look at you, he was sitting in the driver's seat while you were next to him, eyes locked on one of the walls of the parking lot of the apartment building. The drive back home was silent but this time it was tense. Not between you both but due to the predicament you were tangled in as a married couple.

"It is not alright, (y/n)."

You sighed, your right hand began playing with the wedding band around your finger in your other hand. This wasn't a conversation you wanted to have but you also understood. You knew it had to happen, you knew you couldn't evade it forever and you were also aware of the fact that you would end up pregnant, sooner or later.

His eyes locked with your own the moment you turned to look at him, your eyes revealed a thousand emotions hidden in your soul.

"I know, Jungkook. It wasn't alright, none of this tangled mess is. But we are here now, together. Whether we like it or not, we are in this situation together."

His heart clenched at your words. Did you see your marriage with him as a tangled mess? But you didn't allow his mind to ponder on that thought for another second before you were speaking again.

"You need a child to inherit the company, that is a fact we can't deny. It was part of the contract, Jungkook, the conditions. We can't ignore them forever."

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling his heart beating rapidly against his chest. This wasn't how he had planned this conversation to go.

"I'm aware of the conditions, I know what I signed myself in when I married you, (y/n). I just don't want you to feel as if I am imposing it over you. It is your decision too. "

You stared into each other's eyes, time flew by slowly as if the Earth had stopped rotating.

"I just... I don't think I'm ready to have a child right now."

Jungkook heard your whispered words. A sentence, a hidden truth that was spoken as if it were forbidden to even think about. He didn't know if he should be sorry for the situation you both were in, nearly forcing you to carry his child or happy upon the fact that you had revealed a bit of your soul, your thoughts, your heart and wishes to him.

Even when it was a mere sentence, when that truth was constructed of only words. A melody made for his mind to sing, he treasured the honesty, the trust.

His hand covered your own, unfisting your fingers from clenching the fabric of your dress. You didn't even know you were doing such a thing as you looked down surprised at your now joined hands.

"I am not forcing you. I will never force you to do anything, you must know that by now."

You nodded and he continued. Your eyes met his gaze once more in the silence of the car. A space so casual to exist yet now was intimate between you and your husband. A box of truths. A keeper of honesty.

"I wish this evening had gone differently. I'm sorry about that but the arrangement only said we should have a child together, it never said when. It will happen when you are ready and if you never find yourself down that path, well then that will be a problem for future us to deal with."

A soft smile appeared over your lips. There weren't enough words in any language to express how grateful you were to your husband for those words. Jungkook mirrored your gesture, giving your hand a soft squeeze before he retrieved his hand from your own, leaving your skin cold, missing his touch.

"Let's go inside, it's already late."

You nodded at him. Feeling your soul lighter for you to carry. Your burden lessened by his words.

Jungkook lied awake in his shared bed with you. You were already sound asleep but the world of dreams hadn't gotten a hold of him yet. He thought of the conversation he had with you in the car. He thought of your words, your reactions, your small gestures. They were all engraved in his mind, replaying it to him over and over and over again like a movie he loved and never got tired of watching.

What had happened at the restaurant, what was spoken in the confinement of his car, what you had said about your situation with him were nothing more than a reminder of reality for him. A reality he was forced to live and now, you were also tangled in a web of arrangements, promises and longing souls.

Reality was a changing truth. And while he lived in a created fate by his family, carrying the name of his ancestors and the prestige of his bloodline, Jungkook also believed reality could be transformed.

It could be shaped with his decisions and reactions. Just like he wished to change the reality he lived with you, to progress in the relationship he was already in, to win your heart and claim you as his own, he also knew his reality as the chairman's son couldn't be moulded.

Today, he was brought back to the real world, away from his beautiful dreams, away from sweet fantasies. He was reminded of his stance, of his reality, of his position, of his duty.

But was Jungkook strong enough to break the chains of a created fate? Was he strong enough to keep you away from the harm those chains would make once broken? Did he even want to break them and be free or would he allow to be the prisoner of his bloodline, of his family forever?

You and Jungkook were bonded by a ring, the two of you lived a harsh reality. Was that reality open to change its course and allow you both to archive the sweet marriage you both desired?

No-one knew the answers to those questions, only you and Jungkook did. But would you be able to face the truths hidden behind a created fate and smokey lies? Would you stay together in the end?

~Masterpost

Sept/08/2023

Drabbles are open for this au! My inbox is open, darlings!

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

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