#I'm actually so curious as to how this will go

[harrysfolklore]

christ-max -mv1

summary: you invite your boyfriend max to spend christmas with you for the first time, however, your family doesn't quite believe you're dating a formula 1 world champion. wc: 5.8k

folkie radio: HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OF YOUUUU! i hope you're having the best day ever with your loves ones. this fic ended up being longer than i intended but i hope you like it!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

You're nestled into Max's side on his couch, wrapped in the soft throw blanket he keeps specifically for these quiet moments together. The afternoon light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his Monaco apartment, casting a glow across the room. Your feet are tucked under you, and you can smell the lingering scent of the coffee you both made earlier.

The Netflix show you'd put on - some random documentary about deep-sea creatures - has become mere background noise. Max's fingers are threading through your hair in that gentle way that always makes you melt, occasionally stopping to massage your scalp. .

"I can't believe the season's actually over," you murmur, tracing lazy patterns on his arm. "Feels weird not having to plan around race weekends anymore."

Max chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest where your head rests. "Yeah, but now we have to plan around all the end-of-year events instead. Did you see how many galas and ceremonies are coming up?"

"At least those don't involve you flying halfway across the world," you tease, tilting your head to look up at him. His hair is slightly messy, free from its usual styling, and you resist the urge to reach up and run your fingers through it.

"True," he agrees, then glances at his phone on the coffee table. "Speaking of events, I can't believe it's already December. Christmas is going to be here before we know it. Guess time flies when you're busy winning championships."

Your heart skips a beat. This is the opening you've been waiting for. You've been thinking about this for weeks, planning how to bring it up. "Actually… I wanted to ask you something about Christmas," you start, sitting up slightly to face him better.

Max's blue eyes meet yours, curious. "What's on your mind?"

"Well…" you bite your lip, suddenly feeling nervous despite knowing there's no reason to be. "I was wondering if you'd want to spend Christmas with me and my family this year? I know we've kept things private, but I really want them to meet you, and-"

"Wait, really?" Max interrupts, his whole face lighting up with that boyish excitement that made you fall for him in the first place. "You want me to meet your family?"

You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "Of course I do. We've been together almost a year now, and they keep asking why I'm always smiling at my phone." You playfully poke his side. "Which is your fault, by the way."

He catches your hand, intertwining your fingers. "My fault? I'm just being my naturally charming self," he grins, then his expression turns slightly more serious. "But are you sure? I mean, won't they be surprised when you show up with, well…"

"With a four-time World Champion?" you finish for him, laughing. "Actually, my dad might pass out. He's been watching F1 since before I was born. He has no idea I've been dating his favorite driver."

Max's eyebrows shoot up. "I'm his favorite driver?"

"Don't let it go to your head," you warn playfully. "But yeah, he's got your merchandise and everything. It's actually kind of embarrassing how much he talks about you during race weekends."

Max throws his head back laughing, and you can't help but join in. "Oh God, this is going to be interesting," he says, wiping at his eyes. "What about the rest of your family?"

"Well, Mom will probably try to feed you until you burst - she's like that with everyone. And my little sister Ruby, she's seven and she's going to have so many questions. She's in that phase where she wants to know everything about everything."

"I can handle questions," Max says confidently, then hesitates. "What kind of questions are we talking about?"

You pretend to think about it. "Oh, you know, probably things like 'How fast have you ever driven?' 'Have you ever crashed?' 'Do you want to marry my sister?'"

Max nearly chokes on air at the last one, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "You're joking, right?"

"About Ruby? Nope, she has absolutely no filter," you laugh, then soften your voice. "But seriously, they're going to love you. Just be yourself - the you I know, not the racing driver everyone else sees."

He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I'd love to spend Christmas with your family. I can't wait to meet them." He pauses, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Should I wear my race suit when I meet your dad?"

You swat his arm, laughing. "Don't you dare! He'll actually faint." You settle back against his chest, feeling warm and content. "Thank you for saying yes. It means a lot to me."

"Thank you for asking me," he murmurs into your hair. "I love you."

"I love you too," you respond, smiling as his arms tighten around you. The documentary continues playing, forgotten again as you both start planning for Christmas, trading ideas and jokes about how to break the news to your family.

You're sitting cross-legged on Max's bed while he's in the shower, your phone propped up against a pillow as you FaceTime your family. Your mom's face fills most of the screen, with your dad peering over her shoulder and little Ruby bouncing around trying to get a better view.

"Honey, we can barely see you. The lighting is terrible," your mom critiques, and you adjust your position slightly.

"Better?"

"Much better! Now, what's this important thing you wanted to tell us about Christmas?" Your mom asks, while Ruby shouts "Is it presents?" in the background.

You take a deep breath, trying to contain your smile. "Well, I wanted to let you know that I'm bringing someone with me this year… my boyfriend."

There's an immediate explosion of excitement. Ruby starts jumping up and down, your mom gasps dramatically, and your dad's eyebrows shoot up with interest.

"Finally!" your mom exclaims. "We've been wondering when you'd introduce him. You've been so secretive about this boyfriend of yours."

"What's his name?" Ruby pipes up, her face suddenly taking up half the screen as she pushes closer to the camera. "Is he nice? Does he like Disney movies?"

You laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yes, Rubes, he's very nice. And his name is…" you pause, knowing what's coming. "Max. Max Verstappen."

There's a moment of silence before your dad bursts out laughing. "Good one, sweetheart. Now, what's his real name?"

"I'm serious, Dad. I'm dating Max Verstappen."

Your mom is trying to hold back her laughter now too. "Honey, isn't that the racing driver you and your father are always watching? The one your dad has all those caps and shirts of?"

"Yes, and I'm actually dating him," you insist, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Ruby's face scrunches up in confusion. "The fast car man? From TV?"

"The very same one, Rubes."

Your dad wipes tears from his eyes. "Come on now, what's next? Are you going to tell us you're best friends with Lewis Hamilton too?"

"Dad!" you groan, running a hand over your face. "I'm being serious! We've been dating for almost a year. I'm literally at his place right now!"

"In Monaco?" your dad asks skeptically. "Prove it."

You swing your phone around to show the familiar view of Monaco through the windows, but your dad just shakes his head. "Could be any apartment in Monaco."

"You're impossible!" you huff. "Fine, don't believe me. You'll see at Christmas."

Ruby presses her face closer to the screen again. "Will he bring his race car?"

"No, Rubes, he can't bring the race car," you say, softening your tone for your little sister. "But I promise you'll love him."

After a few more minutes of your family teasing you about your "imaginary Formula 1 driver boyfriend," you end the call with a mix of frustration and amusement. Just as you flop back onto the bed, you hear the bathroom door open and Max walks out, his hair still damp from the shower.

"How'd it go?" he asks, noticing your expression.

You let out a laugh. "They think I'm making you up. They literally don't believe I'm dating you."

Max raises his eyebrows, looking amused as he sits next to you on the bed. "Really?"

"Really. Dad laughed so hard he nearly cried. And Ruby, my little sister, just wants to know if you're bringing your race car for Christmas."

"Sorry to disappoint Ruby," he grins, then looks thoughtful. "You know, maybe we should've waited to tell them in person. The looks on their faces would've been priceless."

"Oh, don't worry," you sit up, wrapping your arms around his neck. "They'll still be priceless. Dad's going to lose it when he realizes all those times he was rambling about you during races, he was actually talking about his daughter's boyfriend."

Max laughs, pulling you closer. "What else should I know before meeting them?"

"Well, Ruby's seven and obsessed with Frozen. She'll definitely make you watch it and probably sing along too."

"I can handle that," he says confidently.

"And recite all the lines?"

"…Maybe not that."

"And act out the scenes with her?"

Max's eyes widen slightly. "What have I gotten myself into?"

You kiss his cheek. "Too late to back out now, Verstappen. You're stuck with us."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he murmurs, pulling you in for a proper kiss. "Even if it means playing Olaf the snowman."

"Oh no, you'll definitely be playing Elsa. Ruby's very particular about casting."

The look of horror on his face makes you burst out laughing, and soon he's joining in too. As your laughter dies down, you can't help but think about how perfect this feels - being here with him, planning to spend Christmas with your family, even if they don't believe you yet. You can't wait to see their faces when you show up at their door with Max Verstappen himself.

"Hey," Max says softly, breaking into your thoughts. "What are you smiling about?"

"Just thinking about how Christmas is going to be interesting this year."

"Interesting is one way to put it," he grins. "Should I wear my race suit when we arrive?"

"Don't you dare! Dad will actually faint."

"That's kind of the point," he winks, and you grab a pillow to hit him with, both of you dissolving into laughter again.

"Let me guess, another text from 'Max Verstappen'?" your dad teases from his spot at the kitchen counter, making air quotes with his fingers. He's wearing one of his many Red Bull Racing shirts, completely oblivious to the irony.

"Actually, yes," you reply, rolling your eyes. "He'll be here soon."

Your mom chuckles while peeling potatoes. "Honey, you can just tell us who your boyfriend really is. We won't judge, even if he's not a Formula 1 champion."

"Mom, I've told you a million times-"

"LOOK!" Ruby crashes into the kitchen, pointing at the TV in the living room where they're showing highlights from the last race. "It's YN's boyfriend!" She dissolves into giggles, clearly in on what she thinks is a funny joke.

"Very funny, Rubes," you mutter, but check your phone again when it buzzes.

Max: "Just turned onto your street. Nice neighborhood 😉"

Your heart starts beating faster. "He's here," you announce, heading toward the front door.

"Oh, we're still doing this?" your dad calls after you, amused. "Should I get my Max Verstappen cap for him to sign?"

"Actually, Dad, yes, you should," you shout back, slipping on your boots.

"Sweetie," your mom starts in that gentle voice she uses when she thinks you're being ridiculous, "you don't have to-"

The sound of a car pulling up interrupts her. You open the front door and step out onto the porch, watching as Max's car comes to a stop in your driveway. Your family has crowded behind you in the doorway, probably expecting to catch you in your "lie."

Max steps out of the car, looking unfairly handsome in his dark winter coat and scarf. His face lights up when he sees you, and you don't hesitate to run down the steps toward him.

"Hi," he grins, catching you in a tight hug and lifting you slightly off your feet. "Missed you."

You hear a loud gasp behind you, followed by what sounds like your dad choking on air.

"Missed you too," you murmur against his chest before turning to face your family, keeping one arm wrapped around his waist.

The scene on your front porch is priceless. Your dad's mouth is hanging open, his face pale except for two bright red spots on his cheeks. Your mom has both hands pressed to her face in shock. Ruby is the only one moving, bouncing up and down with excitement.

"IT REALLY IS THE FAST CAR MAN!" she shrieks, breaking the silence as she barrels down the steps toward you both.

Max laughs, crouching down to her level. "Hi Ruby. Nice to finally meet you. Your sister has told me a lot about you."

"You're real!" she exclaims, poking his arm as if to make sure.

"Very real," he confirms, looking thoroughly amused.

"I… you… but…" your dad stammers, still frozen in the doorway.

"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. LN," Max says, standing back up and guiding you and Ruby toward the porch. "Thank you for having me for Christmas."

Your mom seems to snap out of her shock first. "Oh my goodness, please come in! It's freezing out here. I… oh dear… the potatoes… I should… more food… I need to…"

"Mom, breathe," you laugh, as Max follows you inside.

Your dad hasn't moved an inch, still staring at Max like he's seeing a ghost. "You're… you're actually… the Brazil overtake…"

"Dad, no F1 talk yet!" you warn. "Let him at least get his coat off first."

"Right! Yes! Coat!" your dad says frantically. "I'll take your coat! And then maybe… could you… would you mind signing my…"

"Collection?" you finish for him, smirking. "The one you thought I was making up?"

Max raises his eyebrows at you, remembering your conversation about your dad's merchandise collection.

Ruby tugs on Max's hand. "Do you want to see my Frozen dolls? And can we watch the movie? Sissy said you've never seen it!"

"Ruby, let him settle in first," your mom calls from the kitchen, where she appears to be panic-cooking. "Oh God, is the food good enough? Do Formula 1 drivers have special diets? Should I-"

"Mom, the food will be perfect," you assure her, then turn to Max. "See? I told you they'd be cool about it."

Max tries to suppress his laugh as your dad continues to stare at him in awe, your mom stress-cooks enough food to feed an army, and Ruby continues pulling on his hand.

"Very cool," he agrees, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Though I think your dad might need to sit down."

"I'm fine!" your dad squeaks, then immediately sits down heavily on the nearest chair. "Just… just give me a minute to process that my daughter is actually dating Max Verstappen and I've been accidentally talking about my future son-in-law during every race and-"

"DAD!" you exclaim, feeling your face heat up while Max chuckles beside you.

"What? I'm just saying… all those times I said 'that Verstappen boy would make someone a good husband someday' and it turns out-"

"Okay!" you interrupt loudly. "Who wants coffee? Max, come help me with coffee!"

As you drag a laughing Max toward the kitchen, you hear Ruby start explaining the entire plot of Frozen to him, your mom muttering about needing to buy more food, and your dad still talking to himself about racing statistics.

"Still think this was a good idea?" you whisper to Max.

He pulls you closer, grinning. "The best. Though you might want to tell your dad to breathe before he passes out."

"Can we build a snowman after coffee?" Ruby calls out.

"Only if Max gets to be Elsa!" you shout back, earning you a playful glare from your boyfriend.

Looking around at your slightly chaotic but loving family, and seeing how naturally Max fits into it all, you can't help but smile. This is definitely going to be a Christmas to remember.

The initial chaos has settled into a cozy scene in your living room. You're curled up on the couch next to Max, who has Ruby practically attached to his side. She hasn't stopped talking since everyone sat down, and Max, to his credit, is giving her his complete attention.

"And then Elsa makes this huge ice castle," Ruby explains, using elaborate hand gestures. "Can you drive as fast as Elsa runs up the mountain?"

"Probably faster," Max answers with a grin, making Ruby's eyes widen.

"Even in the snow?"

"Even in the snow."

Your dad, who's finally regained his ability to form complete sentences, sits in his armchair trying very hard not to bombard Max with racing questions. He keeps opening his mouth, then closing it again when you give him a warning look.

"It's okay, Dad," you laugh. "You can ask him one race question. Just one."

Your dad looks like he might cry from happiness. "The overtake in Brazil-"

"Which one?" Max asks with a playful smirk, and your dad launches into an enthusiastic discussion about racing lines and grip levels.

Your mom returns from the kitchen with a tray of hot chocolate and cookies, having finally accepted that she doesn't need to cook enough food for an entire F1 paddock. "Here we go. I hope it's okay, Max. YN mentioned you like hot chocolate."

"It's perfect, thank you," Max says warmly, accepting a mug.

Ruby immediately reaches for a cookie, then pauses. "Do race car drivers eat cookies?"

"Only the fast ones," Max whispers conspiratorially, making her giggle.

"Ruby, give Max some space to breathe," your mom says gently, noticing how your sister is practically in his lap.

"It's fine," Max assures her. "I have nephews. I'm used to it."

Ruby beams at this information. "Really? Do they like Frozen too?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure they'd love to hear your explanation of it," he says, and Ruby launches into another detailed plot summary.

You catch your mom watching the interaction with soft eyes, all her earlier panic forgotten. She meets your gaze and mouths 'He's wonderful' when Ruby isn't looking.

Your dad has moved on from Brazil to discussing tire strategies, but stops himself mid-sentence. "Sorry, I'm probably boring you. You live this stuff."

"Not at all," Max says sincerely. "It's nice talking about it with someone who understands racing. YN usually just tells me to stop being a nerd when I talk about tire compounds."

"Because you spent two hours explaining the difference between C3 and C4 compounds!" you defend yourself.

"It's fascinating stuff," your dad says eagerly, and Max nods in agreement.

"Oh no, there's two of them now," you mutter to your mom, who laughs.

Ruby tugs on Max's sleeve. "Can we watch Frozen now? Please? You promised!"

"Ruby, let Max rest a bit," your mom starts, but Max shakes his head.

"A promise is a promise," he says solemnly to Ruby. "Should we watch it now?"

Ruby squeals with delight, jumping up to get the remote. Your dad looks slightly disappointed that his racing talk is being cut short, but you can see him hiding a smile at Ruby's excitement.

"Fair warning," you whisper to Max as Ruby sets up the movie, "she knows every word. And she will sing along."

"As long as she doesn't expect me to sing," he whispers back.

"MAX!" Ruby calls, patting the spot next to her on the floor where she's arranged pillows. "You have to sit here! It's the best spot!"

Max obliges, settling down next to her while you stay on the couch, exchanging amused looks with your parents as Ruby starts the movie, already mouthing along to the opening music.

Your mom leans over to you. "I'm sorry we didn't believe you," she whispers. "He's lovely. And so good with Ruby."

"I told you," you whisper back, watching as Ruby explains to Max why Elsa has ice powers.

Your dad joins in the whispered conversation. "Think he'd sign my mug collection later?"

"Dad!"

"What? I'm just saying, Christmas cards would be sorted for the next few years…"

You're about to respond when Ruby shushes you all loudly. "This is the best part!"

Max catches your eye and winks, clearly enjoying himself despite being roped into a Disney movie viewing with a very enthusiastic seven-year-old commentator. Your heart swells watching him with your family, how naturally he fits in, how gentle he is with Ruby.

"Do you want to build a snowman?" Ruby starts singing along with the movie.

"Later, Rubes," you promise. "Let's watch the movie first."

She nods seriously, then turns to Max. "Pay attention to this part. It's very important."

"I won't miss a second," he promises, and Ruby beams at him before turning back to the screen.

Your mom reaches over and squeezes your hand, giving you a knowing look. Even your dad has stopped thinking about racing long enough to appreciate the moment – his youngest daughter sharing her favorite movie with your boyfriend, who happens to be the F1 driver he's been fan-boying over for years.

It's perfect, you think, watching your family and Max together. Different from how you imagined telling them, but perfect nonetheless.

"Shh!" Ruby whispers loudly. "Elsa is about to sing Let It Go!"

Max shoots you a slightly panicked look as Ruby starts to stand up, clearly ready to perform the whole number. You just grin and shrug. After all, you did warn him about the singing.

Later that evening, you finally manage to steal a moment alone with Max. Ruby had fallen asleep during the third replay of Frozen, and your parents took her up to bed before retreating to the kitchen to finish some Christmas preparations.

You find Max on the back porch, leaning against the railing and looking up at the stars. The winter air is crisp, and you can see his breath forming little clouds in the darkness. Quietly, you step out and wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his back.

"Hey," he says softly, turning in your arms to face you. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer. "Needed a little break from being Elsa?"

You laugh quietly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "You were amazing with Ruby today. I think you're officially her new favorite person."

"She's a sweet kid," he smiles, then adds with a playful glint in his eyes, "Though I didn't expect to watch Frozen two times in one day."

"Just wait until tomorrow. She'll probably want to act it out."

He groans dramatically, but you can see the fondness in his expression. "The things I do for you."

"Mmm, and I appreciate every one of them," you murmur, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him softly.

Max responds immediately, one hand moving to cup your face while the other pulls you even closer. The kiss is gentle and unhurried, full of unspoken emotions. When you finally pull back, he rests his forehead against yours.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"For what?"

"For being so perfect with my family. For watching Frozen multiple times. For not running away when my dad started his racing commentary."

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest. "I like your family. Your dad's racing knowledge is impressive, your mom's trying very hard not to mother me to death, and Ruby…" he pauses, smiling. "Ruby reminds me of Victoria at that age."

You snuggle closer, seeking his warmth in the cold air. "I was so nervous about telling them, and then even more nervous when they didn't believe me. But this… this is better than I imagined."

"Even with your dad asking me to sign his entire Red Bull merchandise collection?"

"Hey, at least he waited until after dinner," you laugh. "Though I'm pretty sure he's in there right now planning which items to bring out first."

Max wraps his arms more securely around you, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I love you," he says quietly, and your heart skips a beat like it does every time he says those words.

"I love you too," you reply, tilting your face up for another kiss.

This one is deeper, more passionate, until you hear the back door creak and quickly step apart.

"Oh!" your mom exclaims, looking flustered. "Sorry, I just… wanted to ask about breakfast preferences… but it can wait… carry on!"

She disappears back inside, and you both burst into quiet laughter.

"We should probably go back in," you sigh, though you make no move to leave his embrace.

"Probably," he agrees, but instead of letting go, he pulls you back for one more kiss. "Five more minutes?"

You smile against his lips. "Five more minutes."

In the quiet of Christmas eve, wrapped in each other's arms, you can't help but think how perfectly he fits into your life, into your family, into your heart. Tomorrow there'll be more Frozen, more racing talk, more of Ruby's endless questions, but right now, it's just the two of you, and it's everything.

The winter sun is just beginning to peek through the curtains of your childhood bedroom, casting a soft golden glow across the room. You're wrapped in warmth, nestled against Max's chest with his arm draped around your waist. His steady breathing tells you he's awake before he even moves.

"Good morning," he murmurs against your neck, his voice still rough with sleep. His lips brush against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"Morning," you whisper back, feeling his hand slowly slide beneath your sleep shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"Sleep well?" he asks innocently, but his actions are anything but innocent as he presses closer, leaving a trail of kisses from your shoulder to your ear.

"Max," you breathe, caught between wanting to lean into his touch and knowing you should stop. "We can't… my parents…"

"Then we'll have to be very, very quiet," he whispers, nipping at your earlobe. His hand travels higher under your shirt, making your breath hitch.

You turn in his arms, ready to either give in or properly protest - though the way he's looking at you, eyes dark with desire and that signature smirk playing on his lips, makes you lean heavily toward the former.

"You're trouble," you murmur, reaching up to run your fingers through his disheveled hair.

He leans down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. "You love it."

Just as his hand starts to wander again, a voice pierces through the quiet morning:

"IT'S CHRISTMAAAAS!" Ruby's excited scream echoes through the entire house, followed by the thundering of small feet running down the hallway. "WAKE UP! WAKE UP! SANTA CAME!"

Max drops his forehead to your shoulder with a frustrated groan. "Your sister has impeccable timing."

"Welcome to Christmas with Ruby," you laugh, pressing a consoling kiss to his cheek. "I tried to warn you."

"YN! MAX!" Ruby's fists pound on your door. "GET UP! There are presents EVERYWHERE! And it SNOWED!"

"Five more minutes, Rubes!" you call back.

"NO MINUTES! NOW!" she insists, continuing to knock. "Mom said breakfast is ready and Dad made hot chocolate and I SAW A HUGE PRESENT WITH MY NAME ON IT!"

Max chuckles against your shoulder. "I suppose we should…"

"PLEASE!" Ruby calls again. "I promise I'll let you drink your coffee first!"

"That's quite the offer from her," you tell Max. "She usually doesn't allow any delays on Christmas morning."

"We're coming, Ruby!" Max calls out, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. "Give us two minutes to get dressed."

"TWO MINUTES! I'm counting!"

You can hear her dramatically counting down in the hallway, making Max laugh. "She's serious about this, isn't she?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

The living room is a festival of color and chaos when you finally make it downstairs. Ruby's bouncing by the tree in her Christmas pajamas, while your parents are settled on the couch with steaming mugs of coffee.

"Finally!" Ruby exclaims. "I counted way past two minutes!"

"Sorry, princess," Max says, accepting a coffee mug from your mom. "But I'm here now."

"Max, sweetheart, you really didn't have to get us anything," your mom says, noticing the pile of presents he'd arranged under the tree last night.

"Of course I did," he replies warmly. "It's Christmas."

Ruby's practically vibrating with excitement as your dad starts distributing gifts. "Can I open mine from Max first? Please?"

At your nod, she tears into the elaborate wrapping paper, gasping when she reveals a beautiful wooden chest with golden details. "It's like a treasure chest!"

"Open it," Max encourages, smiling.

Ruby lifts the lid carefully, her eyes widening. Inside is a complete collection of princess dresses, each one a perfect replica from different Disney movies, along with matching accessories and a tiara for each one.

"The chest is magical," Max explains, kneeling beside her. "Every time you open it, there might be a new surprise inside. And look at this…" He reaches in and pulls out a small envelope.

Ruby opens it to find a letter with the Disney castle letterhead. "Dear Princess Ruby," she reads aloud, her voice getting more excited with each word. "You are cordially invited to spend a royal weekend at Disney World, where you will have a private breakfast with all the Disney princesses…"

She doesn't even finish reading before launching herself at Max, nearly knocking him over. "Thank you thank you thank you! Can I try on the Elsa dress right now?"

"After presents," your mom laughs. "Let's see what else Santa brought."

Your dad opens his gift next, finding an envelope that makes him pause. "Son," he says, voice thick with emotion as he reads the contents. "This is…"

"VIP passes to the British Grand Prix," Max confirms. "Including garage access, grid walk, everything."

Your dad has to sit down, clutching the passes like they might disappear. "This is… I can't…"

"And this," Max hands him another package, "is just a little something extra."

Inside is a vintage racing jacket from your dad's favorite driver from the 80s, signed and authenticated. Your dad actually tears up.

Your mom opens her gift next, despite protesting again that Max shouldn't have gotten them anything. She unwraps a beautiful pair of earrings.

"Oh, Max," she whispers, "This is beautiful."

Ruby, who has been surprisingly patient, tugs at Max's sleeve. "Can we do my princess breakfast now?"

"After we finish presents," you laugh. "And maybe we should have real breakfast first?"

"But I'm a princess now," she declares. "Princesses have special breakfast times."

Your mom shakes her head fondly. "How about pancakes fit for a princess?"

"With chocolate chips?" Ruby negotiates.

"With chocolate chips," your mom confirms. "Max, honey, how do you like your pancakes?"

"However they're made is perfect," he assures her, but your mom is already heading to the kitchen, muttering about making sure she has enough chocolate chips.

Your dad finally finds his voice again. "Max, this is too much…"

"It's not," Max says firmly. "You're… you're family now. Or at least, I hope…"

He glances at you meaningfully, making your heart skip a beat.

Later, after pancakes and multiple princess dress changes from Ruby, you manage to steal some time alone with Max in your favorite spot on the back porch. The morning sun has warmed the air slightly, but there's still a crisp winter chill that gives you an excuse to stay close to him.

"Your turn," Max says softly, pulling out a small wrapped box from his pocket.

Your hands tremble slightly as you unwrap it, revealing a velvet jewelry box. Inside is a delicate silver necklace with two intertwined pendants - a heart and a tiny racing helmet.

"Max," you breathe, touching the pendants gently. "It's beautiful."

"Look at the back," he says quietly, his voice carrying a note of nervousness you rarely hear.

You turn the heart over to find an engraving: "You're my biggest victory. -MV"

"I love you," you whisper, pulling him down for a kiss. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as if you're the most precious thing in his world.

When you finally part, you hand him your gift - a wrapped box that makes him raise his eyebrows at the weight.

Inside, he finds a handmade scrapbook filled with your personal moments - sneaky paddock kisses, quiet mornings at home, victory celebrations, and candid moments no one else has seen. The final page holds a photo from yesterday - Max on the floor with Ruby, both laughing during their third viewing of Frozen.

"This is…" he starts, voice thick with emotion.

"Wait," you say softly, reaching into your pocket. You pull out a key on a simple keychain. "I thought… maybe… if you wanted…"

"Move in with you?" he finishes, breaking into that brilliant smile that never fails to make your heart race. "Yes. Absolutely yes."

He pulls you into another kiss, deeper this time, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other holds the key carefully.

"MAX!" Ruby's voice carries from inside. "I need help with my Cinderella shoes! And then we have to build a snowman! A FROZEN snowman!"

You both laugh against each other's lips.

"Duty calls, Elsa," you tease.

"Only if you'll be my Olaf," he grins, pressing one more quick kiss to your lips.

"Always," you promise, letting him lead you back inside where Ruby waits, already changed into her third princess dress of the morning.

Your dad catches your eye as you pass, "If you don't marry this boy," he whispers, "I will."

"Dad!"

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, then heads outside to join the snowman-building committee.

Your mom appears at your other side, wrapping an arm around you. "He's right, you know. He's perfect for you."

You lean your head on her shoulder, watching Max let Ruby direct him on where to place the snowman's arms. "I know," you smile. "I know."

"Best Christmas ever?" she asks softly.

Looking at your family, and Max in the middle of it all, belonging there like he's always been part of it - you smile.

"Best Christmas ever," you agree.

[themaveriqueagenda]

this is really interesting! though parts of it seem slightly contradictory, because there's this

please apply them at will to yourself based on your own ideas about what it means to dress femininely or dramatically or androgynously etc.

but also this:

describing [...] a presentation others might consider masculine/feminine

is it up to one's own interpretation or about how others see you? particularly as an apothibinary person i have a lot of trouble taking on other people's perceptions of me as a self-descriptor, because they're usually binary(-adjacent). i'm also flat out just not going to give people power over my words like that. (i'm not saying that anyone who identifies as masc/fem because that's how others perceive them is wrong btw. i know many do it for simplicity as well as for self-empowerment. i just personally cannot.)

i also take issue with the

masc---fem scale

because if we can acknowledge that the gender spectrum itself isn't linear like that, we must acknowledge this about the spectrum of gender presentation too. you can be outside of the masc---fem scale or you can just simply not label your gender presentation at all.

another thing that feels a little off to me is that fox is described as an

androgynous, fluid, or combined presentation

while also being described as

[not resembling] the other sides of the spectrum

that latter definition is actually broader than androgynous, fluid or combined, as it does technically also include anything outside of that scale or nothing at all, but it's not truly accounting for that.

i'm aware the chart exists mainly for lighthearted silliness, but also you can say that masculinity and femininity are up to interpretation all you want, the chart is once again very stereotypical and doesn't really leave wiggle room for people with broader definitions of masculinity, femininity or androgyny. for example, i sometimes like wearing dresses which most would consider swan/feminine, but i feel deeply uncomfortable calling myself or my dresses feminine or swan (because let's be real, swan here is just another word for feminine).

i know this post is over 7 years old so how we talk about nonbinary presentation has evolved a bit. i'd be curious if anyone ever expanded on these terms to account for other gender presentations.

nonetheless, if i had to put myself on that scale, i'd probably be a crow-fox, because not resembling the other sides is the most how i conceptualise my gender presentation.

however, at this point, i don't really use any gender presentation terms, not even maverine or other outherine terms, because i no longer find them personally helpful to me. i could dress in exclusively skirts and dresses and i would still not consider my gender presentation feminine because i consider that to be misgendering. most people would perceive me as feminine though if i did that, so at that point, i wouldn't really be communicating anything if i called my presentation maverine when everyone else sees someone feminine. at this point, my gender presentation is synonymous with my gender. i'm maverique, so everything i wear is also maverique.

hopefully other people can get more use of this spectrum though and i'd be curious where all the maveriques & friends fall on this.

Non-binary Presentation Terms

Although words like butch, femme, masc, and fem have been applied to nonbinary folk since their inception, they don’t always meet the needs of non-binary people in comfortably describing the way we look. 

So here are a new additional set of options! We’ve considered two different “axes” here – one that relates most closely to the masc—fem scale, and one that considers “effort”, or a level of… drama or ostentation in a look. They can be combined as one pleases or used individually! 

Additionally, please apply them at will to yourself based on your own ideas about what it means to dress femininely or dramatically or androgynously etc. These words are not to be held hostage to cissexism or gender roles. These words also describe presentations that are inherently not binary – the only reason we’re using words like “masculine” and “feminine” to describe them at all is for ease of communication. They can and should describe particular looks, including those that people are inclined to gender, without actually gendering them. 

Note: These are not coined with the intention of being gender identities. They have nothing inherently to do with gender identity. You can be a demigirl stag, etc. (That said, if someone wants to use them as a gender because you feel it’s tied closely to your presentation, we’re certainly not stopping you.) 

Here they are!

Stag: A “masc”, “butch” or “tomcat” equivalent, describing a presentation one considers to be associated with ideas about masculinity, or a presentation others might consider masculine. 

Fox: Describing an androgynous, fluid, or combined presentation; can be applied to any presentation a person feels doesn’t resemble the other sides of the spectrum.  

Swan: A “femme/fem” or “doe” equivalent, describing a presentation one considers to be associated with ideas about femininity, or a presentation others might consider feminine. 

Sparrow: A casual, minimalist, muted or low-effort presentation. For example, for those folks who just roll through their closet and go. 

Crow: For presentations that are in-between, combined, or fluid along a scale of effort/ostentation. 

Peacock: For presentations that are high effort. Glam, dramatic, flashy, flamboyant, attention-drawing, etc. Dressed to the nines, so to speak! 

so anyway tag urself

(chart meant purely to be silly and fun, not to suggest actual criteria or associations. Disregard entirely if you resonate with the terms but not these goofy tidbits.)

Keep reading

[specialgradefckr]

tw: explicit content, incest, satoru/reader, satoru/suguru, shoko/reader, codependency, very twisted relationship dynamics, implied abusive/neglectful childhood

suguru had never known what to make of the two of you.

satoru the six eyes and his twin sister. satoru who was his best friend, and you, the girl who looks just like him.

satoru who let suguru bend him over and fuck him until he cried, only to roll off the bed, pulling out his phone.

god. he knew satoru was a dick, but this?

it hurts more than it should. they'd never talked about it, never even called each other friends. he should have figured this wasn't anything special.

but what the fuck is satoru doing on his phone?

"satoru?" he says, trying to sound casual.

everything has to be casual with satoru. low-key. being with him feels like he's coaxing a wild animal. get too close, and he might just bolt.

bolt, only to hit him out of the blue days later with a picture of a candy and a smarmy comment about suguru's taste in food. or his hair. or his power as a sorcerer, or whatever was going through that malfunctioning brain of his.

god, why the fuck does he even like him again?

satoru turns back so suguru can see his smirking face.

god. that was why. the face of a fucking angel, a smile that made his heart skip. why did it have to be on this asshole?

"what, suguru? you feelin' lonely?" satoru drawls.

it's a question he knows the answer to. keep it chill. don't show your hand. don't get too close or he'll get scared.

it aches. "shut up," he says, "i'm just curious who you're texting right after i pulled my dick out of you."

he smirks back when satoru pauses, hesitates.

"who's this person you're thinking about right after you cum?" suguru drawls. he's proud of how distant he manages to sound.

satoru's eyes dart towards him, all ice blue and piercing.

"nobody," he says, setting his phone face down while he pulls on his pants.

he blinks. "what are you..."

satoru ignores his question, strolling out towards the door while waving goodbye. "later, su-gu-ru~"

"but this is -"

before his eyes can furrow, satoru closes the door behind him.

"...your room."

he'd thought that it meant something different this time. satoru always left right after they fucked, he never stayed.

but this is satoru's room. so he'd either kick suguru out, or let him stay.

he hadn't been prepared for him to just... leave. his own room.

what's wrong with him? seriously.

suguru glances at the downturned phone. flips it over.

nee-chan~ (2)

his sister? it beeps.

nee-chan~ (3)

no, don't. i'll ask shoko

you'll ask shoko to do what? satoru has a lock, so he can't see.

seriously, i mean it

after a moment, there's another message.

are you ignoring me, or just busy with him?

don't come over. slut

...what?

the message notification disappears along with the message.

suguru gets a strange feeling.

he looks around satoru's room. he finds some girl's clothes.

does satoru even like girls? they could be yours. he's seen you in his room before.

the strange feeling starts to get. stranger.

there's condoms in here, too, which is weird because satoru has never asked him to use them. or used them himself. he whined when suguru suggested it, actually. asked if he was scared of getting knocked up.

ugh. stupid, insufferable, endearing little shit. he wants to have him in his arms right now.

but it doesn't mater what suguru wants. satoru just left. like he always does, sooner or later.

picking up the phone, he makes his way out. down the hall, towards the girls' dorm.

shoko is already there when he gets there. holding out an arm to stop him.

he raises a brow.

"she's sleeping."

"how do you know i'm here for her?"

shoko shrugs. "why else would you be? saw gojo go in there. anyways, they're asleep now."

"can't be. i was with him just a few minutes ago."

the look she gives him is... strange. everything about this situation feels... off.

he pushes past her, and she sighs.

there's no noise inside, at least. he looses a curse to twist the lock on the door, turn it form the inside.

and it's surprising because - god, what was he expecting?

you're there, curled up beneath the blanket with satoru laying behind you, arms wrapped around you and holding you close.

it's romantic, sure. intimate.

but nothing weird. well, nothing too weird. satoru's always been weird, and you're just like him, so of course you're both weird together. you've always been close. you're his twin sister. what is he thinking?

with a toss, he lets satoru's phone fall onto the floor.

he avoids shoko's gaze as he closes the door and stalks off.

(he doesn't see her anxious glance at the door.)

"he's gone," satoru whispers to you, brushing his thumb over your nipple as you bite your lip.

"shut up," you hiss, putting a hand over his. "i can't believe you did that. why did he follow you? what did you say to him?"

his other hand, threaded beneath your panties, wriggles playfully.

"whaaat? you said you wanted to go to bed. i didn't want to make you wait." he sighs dramatically, "i'm the strongest sorcerer, you know. i need my rest~"

and without you, there is no rest.

as soon as your body is against his, it's like all the tension leaves him. you're there, with him, and everything is all right.

all his worries fade away when he can wrap his arms around you and feel you embrace him in return. mind blank at the soothing sound of your voice. never mind the words you're saying.

"yeah, but do you need to do... this." you say fruitlessly. "you could have come later."

"didn't wanna come later," he kisses your shoulder, "wanted to see you now."

you wriggle in his arms, too wide and too strong to escape, even if you wanted to.

it's enraging. it's gratifying. you don't know what it is, and never have.

he must have been fucking suguru. and after he got his, he came to you.

should you laugh, or cry?

"i could have asked shoko." you mumble almost miserably.

but a sigh escapes you as he fondles your breast. satoru always knows how to make you feel good.

maybe not as good as shoko does, but you're still nice enough not to say that to his face.

"what? to sleep with you?" satoru scoffs, "you can't sleep without me, either."

neither of you have ever slept alone, not a single night in your life.

not even when you were deathly ill and the clan begged the precious six eyes to stay away and not catch your sickness.

satoru had stayed by your side the entire while. held your hand while your head pounded and your body ached. wiped your tears when you cried.

because you were very young, and very sick, in more pain than you'd ever felt before. you had honestly thought you were going to die.

there had been no servants, no mother or father or caretaker. only satoru holding you close, lifting you to drink some water and medicine. telling you that you couldn't die. he wouldn't allow it.

and to your child's mind, that had been reassuring. your brother never left you. your fever broke and you were okay, just like he said you would be.

now, you know better. now you know satoru would lay in bed with people who weren't you, even if he always came back (for now).

now you knew what it was like to have someone else by your side.

(but was it enough? could it ever be enough? could it ever be what you have with him?)

"i'll never know until i try." you turn in his arms to face him, and he allows it.

blue eyes. beautiful, beautiful blue. a pretty face. almost as pretty as shoko's.

you've been learning, lately. you used to think of the mole on her cheek as an imperfection, the cigarette smoke a bad habit.

now? you still think it's a bad habit, but the mole is charming. and you don't hate the smell as much because shoko took you out shopping for perfume.

she asked you which one you liked the most, and bought it for herself. she wears it every friday when you have your girls night out with utahime.

where you get drunk enough to make out with her until she brings you back to the dorm, kissing and fondling and touching.

she asks you if it's okay. asks you how you like it best. asks you to touch her this way, that way.

it's not like how it is with satoru. but she makes you feel good, makes you happy. she wants you to feel good. when you cry she kisses your tears away, like she knows better than to ask but wants to comfort you anyways.

when was the last time satoru tried to comfort you?

"hey," satoru breathes into your ear, pulling your panties down, "c'mon."

when you think of her, your heart flutters. when you think of satoru, your stomach flips, and your whole body aches.

you don't know what love is. you don't think satoru does, either.

otherwise, why would he ever leave geto's arms? when he's so obviously head over heels for him?

you clasp one arm against his chest as you reach down, stroking his cock to hardness. geto must have made him cum (satoru has never made you cum). must have fucked him.

satoru rolls you so you're on top of him.

his shirt is off, baring his lean, muscled chest. your brother, your strong, handsome, beautiful brother, looking up at you with wandering eyes and greedy hands.

your hands are equally greedy. running over his chest, ghosting over his nipples until he shivers. oversensitive. he always is after he's been with geto.

satoru's got a condom out already. he slips it on, leaning forward and pinning you down beneath him.

he doesn't have to use condoms with geto. he doesn't have to be the one on top all the time, either. geto can fuck him. he must like that.

geto's a special grade sorcerer. geto's a man. he's not his sister.

his cock is sliding up and down against your entrance, wetting the condom as he nips at your breast.

he always leaves marks like this, but never where anyone can see.

does he leave marks on geto?

"do you like him more?" you mumble, anxiety swirling in your gut. your lower half is a hot swirling pool of need, leaking for him.

and he inches in, making you whine, making you claw marks into his shoulder. you hope geto sees them.

satoru groans, low and throaty. it always feels like coming home when he's inside you. a perfectly matched lock and key.

his hand threads through your hair. you're so beautiful, so fucking beautiful. he'll admit he's a vain bitch, but who wouldn't be? looking like the two of you do.

maybe one day he should get you to dress up like him. wear a strap and fuck him, that'd be fun.

for now, you're warm and soft and perfect for him. so comfortable. and you're rambling about stuff that isn't important.

"what," he murmurs, breathy from the warmth of you around him, "who?"

if the frustration shows on your face, he can just fuck it away.

"geto." the name is swallowed by a swift thrust, hands planted on your hips.

you wish he'd touch your clit more (you never ask). you wish he'd answer your question (you're afraid to push). but your brother just doesn't think about other people.

"c'mon," he whines, "don't talk about some other dude. you're with me."

"you were with him."

"so?" he thrusts in harder, stealing your breath, like that'll win him the argument, "you're fucking shoko."

satoru fucks you breathless, then. pumping in and out so quickly that the friction has you shuddering, shivering, close enough that you finally start to squeeze around him.

it's always like this with him. you feel like you're drowning, helpless. all you can do is cling to him.

"satoru," you hate how pitiful your voice sounds, "satoruuuu...."

he's hitting you, so deep and so hard it hurts, pierces through the breathless haze and leaves you clenching around him.

"please," your breath escapes you with his next thrust.

please don't leave me. don't abandon me for him. don't discard me now that you have someone better. don't leave me all by myself...

tears dot at your eyes, squeezing around him. satoru's own eyes are wide and wild, his hips shoving into you staggeringly fast.

"i got you," he says, close, so close, "i've got you."

another deep thrust, painful as it is pleasurable, bruising and fast like his fingertips on your hips. he swallows your moans with a kiss.

he thinks he can eat up all your complaints, all your anxiety. hide away from his own by nestling himself in your body.

you don't want anyone but him, right? he's the only one who touches you like this.

the way you squeeze around him, the way your body feels against his, no one else gets that from you. shoko couldn't do this for you. no one could.

you say his name again and he's ready to burst. you love him always. you're so good for him. you make him feel good just by being there.

a part of his life. a missing limb. his precious sister, his beating heart, right there against his chest.

"there," satoru pants, "fuck, there, cum for me, baby..."

it's tears you blink away when he gasps and cums, burying himself inside you with a wounded sort of whimper.

you never do, when it's him. to be fair, you've never done it to yourself, either.

you only ever came when shoko fucked you. but fucked is such an ugly word for how gently she touched you, how soft she smiled.

"satoru," you whine again, "do you like him more than me? i like you more than shoko..."

satoru doesn't answer you. his hands move from your bruised hips to wrap around you, pull you close, plant kisses on your head.

"you know," he mumbles out your name. "you know."

there's a flash of rage. irrational.

he won't say it. he won't even say it. satoru will fuck you, his own sister. cling to you like he needs you to survive, sleep with you every night of his life.

but he won't say he loves you more than geto. he won't even say he likes you.

and you know - because you know him like the back of your hand, you were born with him, you spent every waking moment of your life with him until you came to the school - you know satoru loves you.

but he loves you like he loves air. it's always there. always accessible. it's not like the air will suddenly leave.

you curl into satoru's muscled chest, let him embrace you closer, sink into the silence that's only comfortable for him.

maybe there's something you can do about this.

[tubbytarchia]

on the topic of joel's rivalry with scott; wasn't LL!scott's kill justified on Joel, though? I feel like since Joel created so much chaos, Scott wanting to kill him and actually doing so makes sense. and in Limited life, wasn't Scott killing Joel fair again, since Joel kept trying/killing Scott? genuinely curious! I'm also a Joel fan and I agree w/your point on scott, but I feel like, while it was frustrating for joel to die to scott like that, it made sense (?)

(I'm sorry anon because I trust that you are genuinely curious and I'm trying desperately to put aside my bewilderment because I strongly disagree haha, if I sound mean please just take it as me being a very passionate Joel enjoyer please...)

Joel didn't get a single kill on Scott in LimL. Did he lead the charge? Barely. Everyone was going after Scott by the time that Joel was as well. He was no more responsible for going after Scott than half the rest of the server. The only notable kill Joel has gotten on Scott was in DL and Scott never references back to it so it's not like he's holding a grudge from that, whatever his reasons are for labelling Joel as deserving of being killed pretty much 6 times in a row, 5 of which were him, resulting in Joel's permadeath, are faulty at best. Joel legitimately has not done anything to Scott that others aren't also guilty of, Scott's insistence of having Joel dead really comes out of nowhere and the sheer magnitude of it is difficult to reason even disregarding that fact

In Last Life, yeah, I don't really care about that, that was standard death game happenings. The other instance I've been referring to instead has been Secret Life where Scott shares this similar sentiment he has in Limited Life as he kills Joel's second to last remaining teammate, and then him immediately afterward whilst taunting him about it. Just leaves a significantly terrible taste in my mouth following LimL. Joel did try and go after Scott in SL but largely only because of a task to do so. He was very happy to do it but he has never once succeeded, not even in Wild Life. Scott keeps putting Joel down and painting this image of him being deserving of his downfall when 1. Joel hasn't even tried to harm him in any notable way that Scott has referred back to until after this started and 2. he has never actually succeeded in harming Scott in any notable way after this started. And yet still Scott keeps referring to how Joel is after him for some strange reason that he can't possibly figure out, taking opportunities to taunt him and making him sound like a nuisance to his backside that he did nothing to deserve. It's incredibly frustrating when there's no justification I can see for the amount of loss he's caused for Joel in complete nonchalance. He spreads the idea that Joel is just evil and crazy (even though I'm sure he isn't even convinced of it himself, it's just beneficial for him) and should be put down like an animal for everyone's benefit and he's good at swindling people in that way to enforce his own version of events and beliefs however little water they actually hold

[airenyah]

A LOOK AT STYLE'S JOURNEY | Ep 5

(Overview | Ep1+2 | Ep3 | Ep4)

Airenyah is back, bringing you even more rambles about Style Sattawat Chayakorn than ever before. This meta series might just end up becoming my magnum opus.

Alright, here we go. So, in episode 3 we saw Style starting to develop positive feelings for Fadel. He tries to bond with Fadel, tries to engage him in amiable conversations, and also starts to get suspicious of as well as curious about Fadel and his life and develops an interest in learning more about this man and all he's made up of, an interest that is entirely separately from Kant's mission and the deal with the car.

In episode 4 this trend continues and we follow Style as these positive feelings slowly develop into actual, genuine romantic feelings. Style goes from simply just liking Fadel to like liking Fadel.

Now in episode 5 we get to watch Style slowly, yet rapidly fall in love with Fadel as he grapples with the fact that the man he's falling in love with regularly kills people.

And ohhhh boy, what a ride it is. I've written over 12k words for this meta and yet I still feel like there are so many aspects that I still didn't manage to get into or that I only barely scratched the surface of. Not to mention that there are some scenes (especially the first sauna scene) where I feel like every time I watch it, every time I replay the scene I'm getting something else out of it. I swear, the amount of times I've written and rewritten whole sections... No, truly, at this point I feel like I hate more or less everything that I wrote. I apologize in advance for the mess you are about to read. And let me tell you, no matter how detailed you think this meta is? It in no way reflects all my thoughts and feelings that I have about this episode and about my boy Style Sattawat.

Either way, enjoy!

Pronoun Situation: Just assume Fadel and Style use the rude guu/mueng pronouns with each other unless I explicitly state otherwise.

To recap: Style has started to develop genuine feelings for Fadel and is over the moon that Fadel actually agreed to be his boyfriend. His joy is soon punched out of him as he learns of Fadel's real profession. Style unexpectedly meets Fadel at the gym and runs off in a panic, unable to deal with the situation and absolutely terrified.

No. 1: Sauna The Sequel

Let me just say straight away that I'm gonna be looking at this scene running on the assumption that this is happening on the same day as when Style ran away from Fadel at the work-out bench last episode, because Fadel says: "You seem strange today." If the scene from last episode had happened on a different day, I think he would have said "recently" or "these days" or something along those lines instead. Anyway, let's start.

They're at the gym and apparently they both like going to the sauna after a good work-out, because just like in episode 2 they have their next run-in in the sauna after parting at the weightlifting bench. This time it's Style, though, who arrives at the sauna first and he sits there, still in distress, but already a lot calmer than he was at the work-out bench.

When I first watched this scene I was thinking to myself how fun it was to watch Style be very scared of Fadel after we got multiple explicit references of Style decidedly not being scared of Fadel. Now on second look, though, I don't think he's actually as scared as I had first thought. In their last scene together, the scene by the work-out bench, yeah, Style was absolutely terrified and fighting for his life. But instead of a ruthless killer, Style experienced kindness and care, experienced Fadel being a sweet boyfriend. Unable to reconcile these two conflicting perspectives on Fadel, Style made an escape. Now he's sitting in the sauna contemplating everything, trying to figure out how to deal with and/or get out of this mess. Fadel enters the sauna and while Style still looks a little surprised and startled, it doesn't put him into a panic again. As has been pointed out by @secriden and I have also already discussed in my ep4 meta, in episode 4 Style went to the gym during day time, likely in order to avoid Fadel who explicitly mentioned in episode 2 that he prefers to go to the gym at night. But then Fadel shows up anyway and Style, who hadn't been expecting that and as a result hadn't been mentally prepared for a run-in with Fadel, panics completely. Now, however, sitting in the sauna he is well aware that Fadel is around. This might also be a reason as to why Style's heart isn't stopping the way it did back at the work-out bench.

Fadel sits down next to Style and Style moves away, putting more distance between them. What's funny, though, is that despite Style's apparent discomfort at touching Fadel or being anywhere close to him, he still keeps his hand near Fadel, touching him anyway.

[pls scroll back up to the title pic if you wanna see it, i've reached image limit 😭😭😭]

Now we could call that unclean acting, because if Style really is that uncomfortable with the thought of being close to or touching Fadel aka a Known Killer, then he should be making sure to keep each and every single body part away from Fadel, including his hands. Meaning, he should really be yanking that hand away from Fadel. Or what we could do instead, what's even more fun actually, is that we could interpret this as Style not actually being that uncomfortable with the thought of touching Fadel despite his rational mind telling him he should be. His rational mind might be telling him that he should keep his distance from Fadel if he wants to stay alive, but his hand betrays him, exposes his true desire of wanting Fadel anyway. Style is conflicted, but he is not disgusted by Fadel and now after Fadel has been nothing but a sweet boyfriend to him and Style has calmed down a bit from his earlier panic, he also no longer feels as threatened by Fadel's presence and his touch.

Style is still extremely nervous, though, because the knowledge of Fadel killing people is still at the forefront of his mind, but Fadel's presence and Fadel himself don't terrify him as much anymore. This emotional change also shows in his voice: Earlier at the work-out bench he was hesitating to answer every time Fadel said something to him only to hurriedly blurt out his replies a moment later. Now in the sauna, while Style still hesitates and blurts out his answers, they're not as rushed anymore and he's also more talkative again, engages in the conversation more than he did earlier. What's more, at the work-out bench Style barely dared to look at Fadel and when he did look at him, he only threw quick glances at him before turning his eyes away again. In the sauna Style starts out avoiding eye contact with Fadel at first, but as soon as Fadel opens the conversation, Style can (mostly) look him in the eye again.

Fadel calls out Style's uncharacteristic behavior and Style quickly comes up with excuses. Unlike back at the work-out bench, where his voice was full of panic and terror, he now sounds more appeasing, in an attempt to calm Fadel's worries and suspicions. There is a lot of awkwardness when Style claims "I’m fine. I’m just not used to this", there's even a sort of urgency to it like please believe me, please believe me, please stop asking. Fadel stares at him skeptically, so Style elaborates: "It’s usually me running after you, but now you’re with me."

By the way, since I know so many people are liking the Thai language tidbits, this line here:

It’s usually me running after you, but now you’re with me.

More literally is:

Usually I'm after you, but now you're after me. ปกติกูก็ตามม��งแล้วมึงตามกูบ้างแล้วอ่ะ [bpòk-gà-dtì - guu - gôr - dtaam - mueng - láew - mueng - dtaam - guu - bâang - láew - àh] usually - I - follow - you - and - you - follow - I/me - some - already - [particle]

Style actually manages to find his sincerity for this specific lie, but Fadel is already onto him and asks if Style has suddenly changed his mind after all. Style looks away awkwardly, but also lost in thought a little as he thinks about how this is exactly what happened after he found out the truth. It's not like he can just say this, though. Imagine that. Sorry, I don't want you as my boyfriend after all because I don't feel comfortable dating someone who could potentially murder me. And as I mentioned in my ep4 meta, I do think Style is lowkey terrified that Fadel will kill him if Style breaks up with him right after Fadel finally started opening up to him which he knows was a big step for Fadel. But then Fadel says "I don’t mind [breaking up], you know? I don’t like you that much. I’ll get over it." Style looks away, sighs and gets lost in thought. It's a messy situation to be in, even if Fadel won't immediately be killing him over a break-up after all.

When Style fails to answer Fadel stands up in order to leave. This brings life back to Style and he hurriedly holds Fadel back, asking him to wait with the most puppy eyes:

Yeah, I just had to spend one of the only 30 images per post on the puppy eyes, I mean just look at him!!

Anyway, Style looks at Fadel with puppy eyes, and there is so much uncertainty and hesitation and doubt in them. There is also fear, but to me it doesn't look like he's afraid of Fadel specifically, it looks more like he's anxious and worried about the whole situation in general. It looks like Style wants something, but hasn't quite figured out what exactly it is that he wants. He is feeling many emotions at once, has many conflicting feelings at once. When Fadel asks Style if he's sure, I'm struggling so hard to pinpoint/name the many different emotions that Style is feeling in that moment. All I can think of looking at Style's face is: help.

The boy is overwhelmed. He wants to be far away from Fadel, but he also doesn't want him to leave, wants to dump him, but he can't and also kind of maybe deep down perhaps doesn't even really want to, has something on his mind that desperately wants out, but that he must keep inside under any circumstance.

Fadel asks Style if he's intimidated by him and I just wish the English subs had kept the word "scared" just like the Thai lines kept the word กลัว [gluua], because it's such a nice callback to episode 4 where Style enters the greenhouse, yelling "You think I'm scared of you?" (or "But I ain't scared of you!", as the English subs put it). Now Style is getting thrown that question right back at himself. Style has proven time and time again that he isn't scared of Fadel, but this time when he says "I'm not scared of you" it's a lie. Fadel skeptically raises an eyebrow at him. Style comes up with another excuse. "I just can’t believe my persistence actually worked." It definitely is an excuse, but I think that Style is telling the truth here, that he really is surprised that he managed to actually get Fadel to open up to him. I think he truly wasn't expecting it. Now there is also little bit of amusement as he finishes the sentence. As much as he does not want to be around a killer, it doesn't change the fact that he really did enjoy getting on Fadel's nerves. But that little smile fades very quickly as he looks at Fadel in anxious anticipation. And Fadel? Fadel goes with it and throws him a challenge. Style's persistence didn't work. They're on trial. Style still has to put more effort in. Style raises his eyebrows at Fadel like Bitch what did you just say to me????

Fadel did it. He's awakened Style's competitive side. Style completely forgets any qualms he initially had about getting close to Fadel and starts getting handsy with him. But Fadel interrupts Style's seduction and asks to go to Style's garage. However, Style hasn't forgotten about Fadel's secret job enough to happily welcome him home, so he declines. He's definitely horny now, though, and suggests staying in the sauna instead to do the deed and get it over with. As I said in my ep4 meta, Style only gets handsy with Fadel when he's genuinely trying to get into Fadel's pants or under his towel. This is why I think that despite Style's initial apprehensions surrounding Fadel and his secret job, Style absolutely would have hooked-up with Fadel right there and then if Fadel had let him. But Fadel doesn't, he insists on going to the garage instead. Fadel's secret job is fully back on Style's mind again. Style sits back again, sighing as he tenses up again a little. He's clearly not as uncomfortable and nervous around Fadel anymore as he was at the beginning of the scene, but he certainly doesn't feel great about letting a killer into his home. He throws Fadel a look, and I do think Style is a little scared again, but I feel like Style is less scared of Fadel himself and more scared about what might happen if he lets a hitman in, scared not just of what might happen to himself but scared of potentially also putting his dad in danger or giving away any information that could be useful to Fadel in the future in case Fadel does decide to murder him if Style gets too annoying or if Fadel finds out all the secrets Style's been keeping.

Now, guys, let me tell you I spent a whole day writing and thinking about this scene and honestly, I struggled sooo so much. Even as I've finished writing this part I'm still not happy at all with what I put down. There is just so much going on inside of Style and it turned out to be extremely difficult to name and to pinpoint every single emotion because I felt like any time I replayed a shot I was seeing a new aspect and there were so many times where I was feeling an emotion but I just couldn't find the right word to describe it no matter how much I clicked my way through different words and synonyms on Google. But maybe that's kind of the point. Style is feeling many different things, a lot of the emotions that are also contradicting each other, his rational mind is fighting against his heart and it's all so overwhelming in a way you can't really put into words.

No. 2: Date Night

They're on their little go-kart date and Style is having so much fun that he's completely forgotten to be uncomfortable around Fadel, laughing the brightest laughter as he zooms around the track with Fadel. Ever since Style found out that Fadel kills people professionally, Fadel has never once made him feel threatened and unsafe in his actions apart from what was in Style's head at the time. Fadel isn't a ruthless murderer, not to him, not towards Style, and it has Style relax again, has him laugh without any apprehensions. Style is finally able to let go of his worries again and to simply just enjoy the time with his new boyfriend.

A little language note here, this:

It’s just a fluke.

More literally is:

You beat me just this one time. ชนะกูแค่ครั้งเดียวเนี่ย [chá-ná - guu - kaê - kráng - diiao - nîia] beat, defeat - I/me - just, only - time - only, sole - [particle]

Style has let down his defenses so much that he immediately engages in a personal conversation when Fadel starts asking questions and shares without any hesitations. Both we, the audience, as well as Fadel learn that Style lost his mother. This makes me especially happy, because I wrote this in my ep3 meta about the conversation when Fadel drags Style into the storage room:

I do think there's some truth to it when Style says "I have my own problems. You’re not the only one" but whatever problems in life Style currently has (especially if there's anything connected to loss and grief), these problem's really aren't at the forefront of his mind right now.

I had a feeling these lines would come back and that they might be connected to loss, since that's the theme of the support group and at the time of writing I even contemplated the fact there might even be something in Style's past. I almost added a little sentence or two about how if Style also lost someone it has probably been long enough since then that now he's able to be unserious at a group meeting for grief without thinking about it even for a second.

Style brags about winning a competition and Fadel says he knows. The pleased smile is wiped off of Style's face as he suddenly remembers Fadel's real job. Style is starting to feel a little threatened again, a little scared. When he asks "How'd you know that?" it's almost an attack. Fadel shouldn't know this. Why does he know this? Did he do some snooping around? Why would Fadel need to snoop around? Is Style the next target? Does Fadel have a reason to kill him? But Fadel explains he saw it online. Yeah, okay. That makes sense in this day and age. Style lets it go but is still on guard. He doesn't quite trust Fadel.

Fadel continues asking questions. "You said you liked me from the moment you saw me. What did you like about me?" But the thing is, that was a lie. Style did not, in fact, like Fadel from the first time they met. He needs to come up with a believable reason. "I liked the feeling of chasing after you." I do think he genuinely did have fun chasing Fadel, bugging him, which is why he manages to say it with enough sincerity for Fadel to believe it. Style can't fool me, though, because while his words aren't exactly performative like other times when he's being insincere (as discussed in my ep4 meta), his demeanor is still a bit too "loud" for me to fully believe it. Just that one sentence, though, because I absolutely do believe him when he says he likes to win. We literally just saw his behavior when he won their race. Or back in the sauna when he immediately tried to seduce Fadel after Fadel reminded him that they were on trial. Besides, Style likes attention and I'm sure coming out first place in a competition gives him plenty of attention. And as he says, it gives him adrenaline so he's also just having plain fun with it. Fadel is amused and asks "So you only hit on me for the thrill of it?" Style feels called out, because he did hit on Fadel for ulterior motives. Style can't exactly admit that, though, so he quickly deflects: "It's not like that. I like how you look, too." Style then lists more reasons why he's interested in Fadel and I think that what he says next is 100% true: "I like that you’re so different from me. It’s an opportunity to learn, and it’s an experience, you know?" I think this is something he started appreciating about Fadel at the latest over the course of episode 3 where he started to get more interested about Fadel and his lore.

One thing I want to point out: There is less space between them by the end of the scene than there was by the end of the scene. They got closer throughout the scene, not just in the literal sense as in closer with their bodies but also figuratively they got closer in their relationship. It's as Style said: they can get to know each other when they are boyfriends. And getting to know each other is exactly what they're doing here, and they will get to know each other even more as the episode progresses.

Style might be a competitive guy, but the thing is, so is Fadel. Which we, of course, are already well aware of. After all, we did just watch these two have stand-offs with neither of them willing to back down for 4 episodes straight gay. But Fadel lets him know anyway: "The game isn’t over. A guy like me doesn’t know how to accept defeat." It's a threat, but not a dangerous one, no, it's more of a flirty challenge. At the same time, Fadel is being 100% serious when he warns that he won't accept defeat. It's like he's saying No matter how hard you try to fully win me over, I'll never open up to you completely. They'll come back to this topic again later in the episode, when Fadel tells Style he's at 80%.

Fadel drives off and Style watches him pensively. I think by now he's really lost his (immediate) fear about Fadel working as a hitman. I find his expression in this shot here especially interesting:

He look sad more than anything. He was already starting to like Fadel in the previous episode (here are the receipts), but now that he's starting to spend more time with Fadel where Fadel is not just constantly pushing him away and putting him down but is actively engaging with him and they're having serious conversations, now Style is really starting to like him. But unfortunately the situation had to get super messed up and there doesn't seem a way to get out of it that doesn't end in hurt or pain. And unfortunately, he can't exactly talk about his problems with his new boyfriend either. But the show must go on. Life must go on. Because life never stops. So Style gets on his feet, hypes himself up a little, and gets into his go-kart to follow Fadel.

No. 3: Choices Were Made

Where earlier in the sauna Style tensed up at the thought of taking Fadel to his place, after their happy little go-kart date all those fears and worries that Style had had initially went right out of the window. Fadel has been nothing but nice and sweet to him and Style has by now realized he's got nothing to be afraid of. Fadel is not a danger to him specifically (yet?).

Fadel starts asking more questions and we, together with Fadel learn more about Style's relationship with his dad. We also learn that Style likes to choose his own partners himself. This is in line with what I said in my ep3 meta:

For Style, sex isn't just sex and I think as impulsive as he can be he still makes very deliberate decisions about who he actually sleeps with.

Now I'm thinking this extends to who he actually dates, too. Style wants to make the choice of who he is with himself. Which is kinda ironic, considering he himself didn't actually choose Fadel. Unless you count Style's choice to agree to Kant's deal. But Fadel has no idea about any of this. So he walks up to Style, hugs him and asks "And you chose me?" Ah, well, no. Not exactly. Style doesn't answer Fadel's question but instead goes "You wanna do it here?"

Honestly, even though Style's question was probably a convenient way of getting out of having to answer Fadel's question, I think Style's had this question on his mind from the second he felt Fadel's arms around him. After all Fadel did suggest going to the garage instead when Style tried to seduce him in the sauna and I'm sure Style had a flashback to that when Fadel went and hugged him.

Pronoun side note: Fadel changes from the rude guu pronoun to the polite phom pronoun in their little role play when he says "My car broke down." They don't use any pronouns for the rest of their exchange.

Now this is the first time they're having sex as official boyfriends and while in a way the scene is similar to the scene in the storage room, it's also very different. Just like in the storage room, Fadel is the one to initiate the kissing and Fadel is the one taking off Style's shirt (or at least one layer of it, that we see). While the tempo in the storage room was fast and rushed, Fadel now takes his time and everything he does is much more deliberate. Fadel is now actively enjoying what he is doing, lets himself enjoy it. And just like in the storage room, Style lets Fadel control the situation while he waits to see where this is going (it leads to role play, apparently). And yet, Style isn't passive the way he was in the storage room, no, this time they are on a much more equal level. This time it's much more of a mutual conversation. We see this in their little role play where Style actively engages (a dialogue requires two people or else it'd be a monologue) and the way Style also initiates a kiss instead of letting Fadel do all the work himself. Style is no longer a passive part in this. He actively teases Fadel from the start by not properly kissing him back right away and also actively seeks out Fadel's vicinity and physical touch. We see it in the way he actively nuzzle's into Fadel's shoulder:

They are both enjoying this, and they are also actively letting themselves enjoy it. Together.

The lighting is also starting to change: in the storage room, everything was blue and cold. In the greenhouse, there is less light in the scene in general, and while the light that is there is still blue, the darkness gives off a feeling of protection. They can confess to their mutual budding feelings in the safety of the shadows, hidden away where no one can see them. Now in the garage, there is still so much blue going on in addition to bright white lights from inside the shelves. They are still surrounded by the cold, but they themselves are bathed in yellow and red light.

They are slowly making progress, slowly coming out of the cold, distant lighting, slowly stepping into the warmth. However, they still have a way to go.

No. 4: Sharing Is Caring

Side note, since I was just talking about the lighting: I can't help but notice how the cold white light that was inside the shelves earlier is now much less prominent right next to Fadel. Instead we get yellow and red car parts. Fadel is sitting right by the warmth (the warmth that Style was giving him in this scene, perhaps?).

Where in the go-kart date scene Fadel was the one asking all the personal questions, here in the garage it's now Style's turn. And Style finally asks about the scar and I'm glad we're starting to talk about it because I've been dying to know. Fadel says it was an accident and Style wants to know the details. Fadel says it's an occupational hazard, which, gee thanks I could have guessed as much. And I'm sure so could Style. Fadel in addition also asks why Style would want to know that and Style says "I want to know more about you." Style was already starting to care last episode, but back then what he cared about was mostly Fadel's actions and how they affected him himself and his feelings. We could even go as far back as episode 3 and say that Style was starting to get curious about Fadel and his story all the way back then, even. This time it's different, though. This time it's not that he wants to know just to satisfy his curiosity about this strange, closed-off man or because he doesn't like "being kept in the dark". This time it's not that he cares because of how Fadel and his words/actions directly affect Style himself. No, this time he genuinely wants to get to know Fadel better. He cares because he is starting to worry about him. This time it's not all about Style himself, but this time it's all about Fadel instead.

Style is starting to care, is starting to care so much about Fadel himself now. But unlike Style, Fadel doesn't voluntarily give up information about himself, which Style notes and then asks more questions: "Why do you go [to the Rise Up group]?" Fadel doesn't say a word and Style doesn't pressure him any further. He stays quiet, watches Fadel, and patiently waits for him to come to a decision. A full 10 seconds later Fadel does share: "I lost my parents." Style stares at him in shock. He hadn't been expecting that. But this is something he can relate to, even if he lost just one parent and not both of them. Style offers Fadel a metaphorical shoulder to cry on, creates a safe space for Fadel in which he invites him to share more details. Once again Style doesn't pressure Fadel, he just looks at Fadel encouragingly but leaves the choice to share entirely up to him. This time it takes Fadel 13 seconds to respond, but respond he does: "My parents were murdered."

Fun fact, Style is actually fully aware that Fadel's parents were murdered by gunshot specifically because Fadel explicitly tells him:

พ่อแม่กูโดนยิงตายเนี่ย [pôr-mâe - guu - dohn ying dtaai - niîa] parents - I/my - be shot to death - [particle]

When Style hears this he realizes two things:

Fadel has fucked up trauma.

This is a conversation he probably shouldn't have started, a topic he probably shouldn't have brought up.

The conversation took an unexpected dark turn and Style doesn't want to pressure Fadel any further, so he is quick to change the topic to something more bright. "You had any lovers before?" Love can't be too heavy of a topic, right? Right?? But we saw the flashbacks of Fadel dancing with someone in episode 3. And we heard Keen make a reference to someone important in Fadel's life who suddenly disappeared. Speaking of...

Remember how in my ep3 meta I was wondering if Style had heard that specific comment since we weren't shown the exact point of Style walking in on them? I guess now have confirmation that Style did not in fact hear that comment. Unless of course Style asked that specific question to subtly try and find out more backstory on that too (Oh god, Style, how I am begging you keep asking! I too need to know!!). Although, the way he was rushing to change the topic to something happier didn't seem like he was thinking too hard about his question. But then again, he did also tilt his head a little when Fadel said no, he doesn't have an ex, and I can't tell if Style tilts his head because he really has no idea and simply just doesn't believe that a guy like Fadel has never dated anyone or if he tilts his head because he knows Fadel is lying. Aghhh, gdi, I'm still none the wiser.

Anyway, so Fadel says no (bro. my dude. who was that man in the flashback, then 🤨) and explains "My life isn’t exactly easy. I don’t want to drag anyone along with me."

Actually, for the second sentence he really says:

And besides, I also don't want to cause trouble to anyone. แล้วอีกอย่างกูไม่อยากทำให้ใครเดือดร้อนด้วย [láew - ìig yàang - guu - mâi - yâak - tam hâi - krai - dèuuat rón - dûuay] and - one more thing - i - not - want - to cause - anyone - be in trouble - also

Style blinks. He cracks just the tiniest and briefest smile.

(In case you don't see it, here have a slowed down version of just the grin. Check the corner of his mouth: )

Hah. Got him. "Is owning a burger joint so difficult that you can’t date?"

I wasn't sure before if Style knew what he was doing when he asked the ex-lover question, but with this question now he definitely knows exactly what he's doing. Fadel comes up with a reply, but his word choice is still sus, so Style asks a follow-up question. Personally, I think that Style started asking question in the hopes of Fadel accidentally spilling the truth himself. Because if that happened, then that would be at least one secret off Style's back. He wouldn't have to pretend to Not Know and it would probably also lessen his anxieties about Fadel's occupation because at least he would also be able to openly talk about it and his fears with him. I think at this point Style has fully realized that Fadel isn't killing him any time soon, that his own life isn't in immediate danger just because he hangs out with Fadel and does things that boyfriends do with him. He is back to being as fearless as he was before The Reveal.

So Style asks a follow-up question, hoping that maybe Fadel will slip-up even more. But Fadel comes up with a bullshit story and Style just listens to it, nodding like yeah sure whatever you say baby. It quickly becomes clear to him that he won't be getting the truth out of Fadel's mouth for now. I feel like I haven't seen enough of the story yet to really confirm this for myself, but I wonder if during this conversation Style also realizes (or at least starts to suspect) that deep down Fadel isn't actually too fond of his killer job. Because when Style says "Maybe you just need to find something else to do. Do something that allows you to love without risking your loved ones." it just sounds too much like what he's ACTUALLY saying is:

Well, if you don't like being a "burger joint owner" (assassin), if being a "burger joint owner" (assassin) is making your life THAT difficult and depressing, then why don't you just quit being a "burger joint owner" (assassin) and find a new job that makes you happier and your life easier? Perhaps even a job where you don't have to worry about me your loved ones being safe?

After this deep talk where Fadel finally opens up to him about personal things, Style's panic has vanished completely. Instead, it has all been replaced with worry, worry about Fadel and his well-being specifically. And Style is also well aware of this development as we'll see later in the episode when Style tells Kant "I'm beginning to worry about him now." Style is still scared for his own life, but now it's not because he's terrified about Fadel killing him but more so because he doesn't want to become collateral damage if (when) he stays in a relationship with Fadel. I think this is another subtext of when Style says "Do something that allows you to love without risking your loved ones". He's not just making it about Fadel and his loved ones but he's also specifically referring to his own safety, too. Do something that allows you to be with me specifically where I don't have to worry about my own safety and potential death.

Style smiles innocently and cutely at Fadel (and I cry bc that exact smile is Dunk's inner Daonuea coming out) but before the conversation can go any further or they can get any cuter, Kant interrupts. Fadel is irritated and Kant's unexpected visit is an inconvenience to Style too, but Kant has some pressing matters to discuss, so they walk off to discuss them in private.

No. 5: Conflicted

Kant is in panic because Bison seems to be going ballistic on Kant's old hook-up with murder being a potential outcome. This has Style very concerned. He doesn't really care about Kant's old hook-up but he is very worried about his best friend. As much as Style likes helping people and as loyal of a friend he is, he really doesn't wanna help if helping Kant means Kant's potential death. Kant tries to talk Style into helping anyway, but Style is done: "I had nothing to do with this. You dragged me along." Style is very much not cool with having been involved in this without his consent. And now he's got another problem that makes the whole situation even more tricky for him:

By the way, I have a bad feeling about Fadel. He scares me. But I like his rough romantic side.

And at this point I really need to share Style's actual words:

And another thing, I don't know how I feel about Fadel. แล้วอีกอย่างนะกูรู้สึกยังไงกับไอ้ฟาเดลก็ไม่รู้ว่ะ [láew - ìig yàang - ná - guu - rúu-sèuk - yang-ngai - gàp - âi - Fadel - gôr - mâi - rúu - wâ] and - one more thing - [particle] - I - feel - how - with - [rude prefix] - Fadel - not - know - [particle]

He makes me feel scared. มันทำให้กูรู้สึกกลัว [man - tam hâi - guu - rúu-sèuk - gluua] he - to cause - I - feel - scared, fear

But I like his rough romantic side. แต่กูชอบมุมโรแมนติกเถื่อนๆของมันเว้ย [dtàe - guu - chôp - mum - roh-maen-dtìk - tèuuan tèuuan - kŏng man - wóiie] but - I - like - angle - romantic - rough - (of) his - [particle]

I put all of Style's lines mostly for completion, but really the language note is mostly about the very first line. Style doesn't say he has a bad feeling about Fadel, no, he says he feels conflicted about Fadel. Because on the one hand he's scared and on the other hand he really also likes him. When Style says Fadel makes him feel scared, I don't quite believe him, because apart from the sauna and that one short moment at the go-kart track absolutely nothing in his behavior has screamed I am scared, on the contrary. I think this is his rational mind telling him that logically he should be scared because Fadel fucking kills people fighting against his heart that is slowly getting to know the Fadel that's behind those thick high walls and that realizes that Fadel isn't that bad of a person after all. What's more, ever since they started dating, none of Fadel's actions or behaviors have put Style into immediate danger. In fact, Fadel has been nothing but a sweet, hot boyfriend to him. Style doesn't know how to feel about Fadel, because he's getting conflicting messages and can't figure out whether he should best follow his mind or his heart.

But Kant currently doesn't have time for Style's love life. Someone else's life is potentially at stake. So Kant responds: "This ain’t no time to confess your weird feelings." Or what he actually says is:

This is not the time to confess your love. ไม่ใช่เวลามาสารภาพรักไงล่ะ [mâi châi - weh-la - ma - săa-rá-pâap - rák - ngai - lâ] not - time - come - confess - love - [particle] - [particle]

I just wanted to note that Kant says nothing about "weird": Kant is not being judgy about Style's feelings specifically, he's only judgy about Style's sense of timing. Okay, carry on.

Anyway, Kant suggests asking Fadel for help.

No. 6: Boyfriend Card

Fadel, predictably, is not happy about this turn of events. But Style is now helping his friend after all, and so he pulls the boyfriend card: "You’re my boyfriend, you know? If you like me at all, you have to help my friend." It works. Fadel agrees to help. Kant calls him "Brother-in-Law". Style is very hyped at Kant's sass and praises him. Fadel chats with Bison on the phone and learns enough info for Kant to know exactly where Bison is at. Kant runs off. Style watches him leave wide-eyed, then turns to Fadel and excitedly goes "Wow. I hope you’re not the jealous type like your brother is." Fadel tells him "If you mean well, then you have nothing to worry about." But then he also speaks out a warning:

But if you’re just leading me on, or trying to get something out of me, you’re in for some serious bruises.

Dare I say this is foreshadowing for when Fadel finds out about the real reason why Style was hitting on him? And I have a feeling Style gets that memo too. Uncharacteristically, he stays quiet.

Pronoun side note: Kant uses the polite phom/khun pronouns for Fadel while Fadel uses the rude guu/mueng pronouns for Kant and I think that's hilarious, actually.

No. 7: Falling

Kant updates Style on the James situation but Style stays optimistic. Kant really doesn't share this view and reminds him that Bison is a hitman. Style gets stressed and also a bit irritated at Kant and shoots a reminder back: "I was sleeping with his brother last night all because you asked me to, didn’t I?" (he says, as if Kant ordered him to hook up with Fadel in the garage 🤭) Style hates that he is in this mess when he never even asked to be in this mess in the first place.

Kant says he doesn't want anyone else risking their lives (bro. maybe you should have thought of that before you got your bestie involved or at least asked him for his consent, don't you think 🤨) and that he has to get this job done. Style looks downwards, troubled and in thought. He sits down and it's time for another confession:

Come to think of it. How would I even get through this? I compromised my whole body, and if we’re being honest, I’ve already compromised half of my heart, too. I’m beginning to worry about him now.

This has Kant alarmed. "Don’t fall in love with him at all costs." But it's already too late. Style is already falling, and he's falling fast. And deep down he knows it, too.

Style points out that Kant isn't exactly doing any better either. Kant sighs and says he wants to end things quickly and then foretells what their happy ending is going to be: "Once those two get arrested, we walk free."

But Style stares gloomily into the air and gives a near invisible head shake, almost as if he disagrees with Kant's words, as if to say But that's not what MY happy ending looks like.

Then he stands up swearing and says: "Hope it ends before either one of us kicks the bucket. I shouldn’t have put my heart on the line for this." He wants to get out of that mess asap and preferably alive (and with his heart fully intact). Kant has another mission for him.

No. 8: Can I Have This Dance

Yeah no I don't have anything to say about this scene except: this is a boy in love.

And also, not to brag but @titkos--sideblog and I called the butt grab(s) before the show had even started airing, including the exact episode number (episode 4 counts too because we did get the one wide shot in the greenhouse with Fadel's hands on Style's ass!!):

Okay, no, I lied. Now that I'm done awww-ing about how fucking cute this whole scene is, I do have something to say after all:

Once again, there is not a single ounce of fear anywhere to be found in Style, no matter how stressed he gets whenever Kant brings up that Fadel and Bison are hitmen. On the contrary, Style is completely at ease. He's shamelessly teasing Fadel, shamelessly flirting with him, and also being silly without a second thought. I was actually talking to @secriden in our DMs and I just wanted to share something she said to me because she really hit the nail on the head:

[Style] makes it clear that he wants Fadel to participate and frames his case as being about his need for an "F" for his "S" so the 'embarrassing cheesiness' is all on Style's behest. When he makes Fadel dance with him, he reminds Fadel that he's already seen a far more embarrassing dance and found it incredibly hot and then starts being overthetop and ridiculous so that even if Fadel starts dancing with him its not going to be more embarrassing and silly than what Style is doing.

I absolutely agree. This whole scene is Style trying his best to get Fadel out of his shell, to get Fadel to loosen up a little. We've already seen Style attempting to do this in episode 2 when he shows up in Fadel's kitchen with an order and pretends to be a commentator on a cooking competition or in episode 3 at the heavy metal bar when he invites Fadel to dance with him, to scream and to basically let loose with him. Except back then Fadel stubbornly refused to engage. Where Style failed in episode 3, he now as Fadel's official boyfriend succeeds. This time around Fadel does dance with Style, albeit tentatively, and even ends up having a little bit of fun.

No. 9: Percentages

They're sitting at the table watching Kant and Bison be cute and Style makes a comment about how they look good together. Fadel informs him that even if he tolerates Kant now, he still doesn't trust him and Style squints his eyes a little at him in a way that I can't find the proper words to describe.

It's almost inquisitive. Style knows full well that Kant absolutely has ulterior motives, more ulterior motives even than Style himself has. Style knows full well that Fadel absolutely has legitimate reasons to distrust Kant, knows exactly that Fadel's bad feeling about Kant is entirely on point. The way Style squints at him looks as though he's curious about why Fadel doesn't trust Kant. What is Kant doing, what in Kant's behavior is giving it away that Kant's not exactly trustworthy?

Fadel elaborates that a guy like him doesn’t go trusting someone 100%. Style looks almost a little guilty when he looks down at table for a moment as he goes "Oh?" Then he asks "Not even me?" and it's just a little bit too "loud" again to be entirely genuine. Style knows exactly that he doesn't really deserve Fadel's full trust because he, too, is hiding secrets from Fadel. And I think he tries to play it off and deflect from it in an Whaaat, you don't even fully trust ME, your very own BOYFRIEND? When CLEARLY as your boyfriend I am entitled to 100% of your trust? sort of way. But Fadel didn't come to play around. He retaliates with "You’re at 80% at best." Which, by the way, in Thai goes something like:

Someone like you? Only gets 80. อย่างมึงนะได้แค่80 [yàang - mueng - ná - dâai - kâe - bpàet sìp] like - you - [particle] - receive - only - 80

Style throws him a look that again I find really hard to describe:

He looks a bit judgmental that Fadel really dared to be this harsh to his very own boyfriend, but at the same time he knows that Fadel is absolutely spot on with that judgment. And I think he is also kind of disappointed, because he does very much want those full 100%.

More serious now, Fadel continues: "I feel like you’re hiding something from me in the rest 20%". From the tone of Style's voice when he says "What are you talking about?" I feel like this isn't at all about him deflecting Fadel's completely spot on statement but more about Style complaining that Fadel won't play along properly. Style is frustrated, but almost in a pouty way. When he asks "What do I have to do to gain your complete trust?" I think it's still part of the little game that he's started, but now there is a sort of urgency to his voice that exposes him. Style needs an answer to this question, because it's important for him to get those 100%. Style really wants Fadel to be able to fully trust him. Style might still be keeping secrets from Fadel but nevertheless he wants to do everything he can to "be worthy of Fadel's trust" (words stolen from @secriden's meta), despite the lies he has to keep up for now. What's more, Style went all in the moment he and Fadel became official and the "all in" includes trust as well. It's either all or nothing for Style.

Fadel doesn't answer immediately. Similarly to their deep talk in the garage, Style patiently waits for Fadel to speak rather than to press him for an answer. And 7 seconds later Fadel drops: "It'll never happen."

So far this conversation has been mostly lighthearted but at this point the mood suddenly changes. Fadel announces there will never be a day where he'll fully trust Style and Style sighs, a little dejected.

No matter how hard Style tries, there will never be a day where he'll be able to make up for all the secrets he's been keeping and for all the lies he has to tell, all the lies he's already told, and all the lies he'll be forced to tell in the future. Because let's be real, at this point? Style is keeping up the charades mostly for the sake of Kant (and maybe a little bit for the sake of his own safety). As many people have already pointed out, Style is the type of person where what you see is what you get. And I think Style struggles with the fact that he can't be fully honest with Fadel. And he knows it's going to hurt both of them when Fadel finds out that he was right in not fully trusting Style. And there is nothing he can do about it, no matter how much he tries to be as open and transparent with Fadel as possible to soften the blow.

Fadel elaborates and as Style listens to Fadel's explanation, the good mood that was there on Style's face earlier is replaced by a very serious expression.

I think he's probably wondering where Fadel got this outlook on life from. By now Style has learned that Fadel has gone through quite some shit in his time. I think he realizes that there's a chance that Fadel's distrust in people is connected to another "My parents were shot" story or that it could also be connected to Fadel's scar. This interpretation gets pretty much confirmed at the end of the episode, when Style tells Fadel that he'll be his 100% one day and goes to kiss Fadel's scar immediately after, as if to say I know whatever scarred you took away your ability to trust people but I'll be the one to do you right.

The conversation is taking a heavy turn, but the bar is no place to discuss such topics, so Style dismisses Fadel's words and changes the topic like he did back at the garage. He invites Fadel to come on stage and sing. Fadel refuses. Style reminds him that there is absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about since there's only drunk people here, but Fadel still doesn't want to. Style pulls him on stage anyway and whipped boyfriend that he is, Fadel follows him after all and engages in the social interaction.

But then Kant gets a phone call and suddenly has to run. I absolutely cannot tell if Style is fully aware of what Kant is planning to do or not. In their last one on one scene, Kant announced that he had a plan, but didn't exactly elaborate on it, just told Style to make sure Fadel stayed by his side the entire time. Of course Kant might have told him off-screen, but there is also a chance that Style only knows as much as the audience knows. Either way, Style doesn't feel great about it. When Style asks if he should come too, his voice might just be the most serious and worried we've ever heard it throughout the series so far. But Kant refuses and runs off by himself. Fadel walks over to Bison to make a comment to him while Style stands behind them, looking worried. When he sits at the table with Fadel and Bison later waiting for Kant he is uncharacteristically quiet and still, except for that one time where he tries to get Bison to stay a little longer. But when that doesn't work he just sits there and stares at Bison wordlessly. Even Style's aura is suddenly very quiet.

Pronoun side note: When they met in episode 2, Style and Bison where using the polite khun/phom with each other. In this scene all three of them were using only the rude guu/mueng pronouns when talking to each other.

No. 10: Look They've Made It Onto A Bed

Okay, so this is gonna mess with my usual formatting of going chronologically, but please bear with me as I take a look at the actual sex before I get into the dialogue.

Everything about this is warm, so warm and soft with the red/yellow/orange tones and they've finally made it onto a bed. I've seen posts joking about getting them a bed for the sake of their backs, but I think it was a very deliberate choice that up until now they were never anywhere near a bed. Your bed is one of the most intimate places you have, it's where you sleep and are at your most vulnerable to outside danger. Up until now, Fadel and Style couldn't be on a bed yet, their relationship wasn't ready for that yet. And I think it's so significant that the first time they are sleeping with each other on an actual bed happens after Style knows the truth about Fadel. It's such a stark contrast to the beginning of the episode where Style asked to hook up in a public sauna and get it over with because he was just so very uncomfortable about bringing Fadel home. But now at the end of the episode Fadel is right here in Style's bed. Style knows the truth, knows Fadel kills people and he still brought him into his home, his own room, his very own bed. Style knows the truth and yet Style has fully let Fadel into his life. (Like, 100% you could say...)

This scene also parallels the storage room hook-up, but now the places are switched. In fact, this scene is the complete opposite of everything that happened in the storage room. Let's take a look.

As many people pointed out after episode 3, Fadel was more or less worshiping Style's body back then. Now it's Style's turn to worship Fadel's body. Back in the storage room, everything was rushed because Fadel was running on anger and sexual frustration. Style now in turn moves very slowly and everything he does, he does very deliberately and with intention. There is so much tenderness and care in every single one of Style's touches. Where the storage room sex was first and foremost led by anger, mutual annoyance, and physical attraction, instead it is now led by love and the emotional bond that they've started to build up over the episode. Actually, @secriden has written a beautiful post comparing these two scenes with each other.

If you remember, @clemelntine noted what we can learn about Style's and Fadel's desires in their respective fantasies. In my ep3 and my ep4 meta I added on to this thought and discussed at length how in Style's fantasy he barely stopped searching for eye contact and how the emotional component was very important to Style and how he was getting next to no eye contact in the storage room scene (where emotionally they weren't on the same page at all) and how he was slowly getting more of it in the greenhouse (where they were finally starting to come together emotionally). Now in Style's bed? Style finally gets what he desires. Fadel barely stops looking at him, hardly ever takes his eyes off of him. He even lifts his head to watch Style as he moves to kiss Fadel's scar or to kiss his upper body a little later on.

Of course, for Fadel specifically part of that is also because he is still on guard around Style, can't fully let go yet, can't fully trust Style yet (more on the topic of trust in a bit). Which is why it's so beautiful that when Fadel does take his eyes off of Style it's when he finally lets himself fall into it a little. Fadel may break eye contact, but it's not because he's avoiding Style's eyes and closing himself off again, no, it's because Fadel is finally starting to let go a little, is giving up just a little bit of control to Style, letting him do as he pleases the way Style has let Fadel do as he pleased back in the storage room.

I also find it interesting that there is no background music at all throughout the entire scene (that is from the moment Style takes his shirt off right at the beginning before the dialogue even starts) because it makes the scene feel even more intimate and raw, almost as if we, the audience, shouldn't even be here. In the storage room, in the woods, and in the garage, every single time there was music playing while they were going at it. This here in the bedroom is the most intimate sex they've had so far, and it is stripped bare of any background music (remember the word "bare", it will come back later). There are no distractions, that is no music to hide behind, it's just them and their feelings on full display. Here in Style's own room, Style is laying himself bare for Fadel completely and this is underlined by the lack of music. The music won't come back until the end to lead us into the end credits, and when the music does come back, it's none other than Style's, I mean Dunk's OST song for the show.

No. 11: Bare Bodies and Open Hearts

Now that we've looked at the sex itself, let's take examine the dialogue and the context in which the sex scene is happening in.

The double date night is over and I'm assuming Kant probably texted Style telling him he was all good, because considering how concerned we left Style last time we saw him, I think he would have had his mind somewhere else most of the time during this scene rather than focusing entirely on Fadel if he didn't know his best friend was safe. Anyway. I'm just gonna run with that this is what happened and that's why Style is all relaxed and without worries again.

Actually, before I get into anything else I wanna talk about these specific lines because both the English translation as well as the original Thai lines have me insane for different reasons:

F: Like I said, no one can truly lay themselves bare for someone. [...] S: Will you lay yourself bare for me?

Let's start with what has me insane about the Thai lines first. But first a little recap: In my ep3 meta and my ep4 meta I mentioned the word เปิดใจ [bpèrt jai]. If you're new here or simply just forgot, this is a word that means something like "open up to something/someone" or "giving something a chance". This word consists of the words "(to) open" (เปิด [bpèrt]) and "heart, mind" (ใจ [jai]), so literally translated it makes "to open one's heart".

Now, Style was using this word in episode 3 after Fadel presented him with a burger when he asked "Are you finally folding?" (literally: "You've opened your heart to me now, right?"). If we remember, the burger was the first time Fadel reached out to Style first and did something nice for him (unless we count Fadel dropping off the car at Style's garage in ep1, although that only came about as a consequence of the crash, or there was also that time Fadel ambushed Style in the locker room, but he didn't exactly have nice intentions about it). Anyway, that was the first time Fadel was properly connecting with Style in a friendly way and of his own accord, a significant moment.

In episode 4 we get this word again during the "be my boyfriend" conversation when Style says "I’m 100% in. It’s your turn to let me in a little bit" (literally: "I've opened my heart to you 100% already. Only you remain. How much will you open your heart to me?") Again, this is a significant moment, because right after those lines is when Fadel finally agrees to be Style's boyfriend.

And in both scenes I just really really liked the image of Fadel, who has closed off his heart so deeply and securely behind thick high walls, being asked to open up the way to his heart.

Right now you're probably assuming that in Thai they're using the word เปิดใจ [bpèrt jai] again. No. Actually, they are not. But!! They are using the word เปิด [bpèrt] and I think it works enough for a callback to that imagery and specifically to those lines from the "be my boyfriend" scene:

F: Like I said, we aren't 100% open with others. อย่างที่กูบอกอ่ะ คนเราไม่เปิดกับคนอื่น 100% หรอก [yàang - tîi - guu - bòk - àh • kon rao - mâi - bpèrt - gàp - kon èun - rói bper-sen -ròk] way - that - I - say - [particle] • people, we - not - open - with - others - 100% - [particle] [...] S: Can you open up for me? มึงเปิดให้กู้ได้มั้ยล่ะ [mueng - bpèrt - hâi - guu - dâai - mái - lâ] you - open - for - I/me - be able to - ? - [particle]

And it just makes me a little bit insane for multiple reasons: first of all, we continue with that imagery, that theme of Fadel opening up to Style. And second of all, there's also been a running theme about percentages. The theme of opening up and the theme of percentages are tightly connected:

It starts in the "be my boyfriend" scene where Style tells Fadel "I've opened my heart to you 100% already." All the doors to Style's heart are wide open for Fadel to enter as he pleases. But at the time Fadel's heart is still closed to Style. So Style tells him that it's Fadel's turn now and asks him: "How much will you open your heart to me?" How many doors to his heart will Fadel open for Style? What is the percentage of his heart that Fadel is willing to grant Style access to?

And then earlier in the scene at the bar Fadel says "Someone like you only gets 80%". Somehow this feels kind of like an answer to Style's question of "How much will you open your heart to me?" And yes, the conversation at the bar is about trust and not their hearts, but Style made it about their relationship when he asked "Not even me? (Not even your boyfriend?)" and Fadel also brings up love later when he says "No matter how much you love someone". The heart is also involved in a relationship. And what kind of relationship is it when your heart isn't fully in it or you don't fully trust your partner? And I think this is also part of the reason why it's so important for Style to reach those 100%. He wants both of them to put 100% of their hearts and 100% of their trust in this relationship. He wants this to be an equal relationship.

And here and now in the bedroom Style asks again: "Can you open up to me?" But Fadel can't just yet. Because Fadel doesn't believe he can. So Style declares: "One day, I’ll be your 100%." One day he will show Fadel that it is possible for him to trust someone completely. One day he will have 100% of Fadel's trust. One day he will have 100% of Fadel's heart. And he will get there. Because he is persistent. And because Fadel already has 100% of Style's heart and Style's trust. It's only fair for Style to get 100% in return.

So. This is the reason why the Thai lines make me feel insane. Now on to the English translation which adds additional imagery, which as a whole makes me feel even more insane.

Let me just start out with a reminder that at the bowling alley Fadel vehemently refused to wear the stupid shirt and then announced that he was taking it off as soon as they were done when he did agree to wear it after all. And now let me just point out that Fadel is still wearing that very same stupid shirt in during this scene in Style's bedroom. In fact, it's Style who loses the shirt first. Anyway.

In English Fadel says "No one can truly lay themselves bare for someone." But Style already has. For Fadel's whole entire line we linger on a shot of Style's bare body:

Fadel says "No one can truly lay themselves bare for someone" to Style who is literally bare before him. Style is living proof of the contrary of Fadel's beliefs. They continue their conversation and then Style asks "Will you lay yourself bare for me?" to Fadel, who is still fully clothed and very much not bare. And again, their conversation continues until Style declares "One day, I’ll be your 100%." And right after that Style pulls up Fadel's shirt. And how much does he pull it up?

That's right. He lays bare roughly 80% of Fadel's upper body (if we don't count the back of the shirt that didn't go up bc Joong is lying on it). He lays bare those 80% that Fadel told Style that he had. A little later Style pulls up the shirt even more for better access to the nipples but Fadel never fully loses his shirt the way Style has (who literally starts out the scene by immediately taking his shirt off, baring himself to Fadel first thing with no inhibitions). Until the end of the episode Fadel never loses the shirt 100% because he is not yet ready for that, not yet ready to lay himself bare for Style. Not yet ready for Style to uncover 100% of him. And Style respects that, no matter how much he might have complained at the bar. He never tries to remove more of the shirt than those 80% that he was granted.

Sorry. I need a moment.

Okay, now that we have this imagery and those themes out of the way, let's go through the scene the way I usually do. So this episode we started their story with Style feeling very uncomfortable at the thought of bringing Fadel, a Known Killer, to his home and we end the episode with Fadel right there in Style's room, in Style's bed. Style and Fadel have spent the entire episode sharing personal things and getting to know each other better and also on a bit of a deeper level and now that they're in private away from the others, Style opens up about something that has been on his mind all episode: "It feels so weird every time I’m with you. Sometimes you make me feel so scared, and sometimes you make me feel so safe."

Style is very much not scared of Fadel in this moment. In fact, most of his behavior and his actions surrounding Fadel this episode weren't the behavior and the actions of a scared man, especially when he was interacting with Fadel directly (apart from the very first scene in the sauna when the initial shock hadn't worn off yet). I think Style is still thinking of his mind vs. heart conflict when he says "sometimes you make me feel scared and sometimes you make me feel safe", but deep down he has already decided.

But Fadel doesn't know any of this. Fadel has no idea of the internal battle that Style has been fighting all episode, trying to reconcile the image of the ruthless killer with the man he's falling in love with. So Fadel tells him that it would be good for Style to be a little scared of him and repeats his point from back at the bar about (in)complete trust. And then he speaks out a warning: "The real me might be scarier than you think." But Style isn't scared. Because Style already knows that. Style already knows the truth.

However, Style mostly knows it in theory. He did get to see some of Fadel's real him in action when he took on 3 men by himself and also got to experience some of Fadel's violence on his own body. But the thing is, no matter how much he isn't scared of Fadel despite Knowing the Truth in theory, now matter how lowkey (highkey) hot he found Fadel take out three whole men, actually witnessing Fadel actively kill someone in practice might still be traumatizing no matter how much he thinks he is mentally prepared for it, so I do think Fadel kinda has a point with his warning. But I'm not sure Style has thought this far ahead already. I think in this episode he was mostly preoccupied with worrying about his own life, his own safety and with coming to terms that he was falling in love with a murderer in the first place.

Throughout the entire episode Fadel has never really given Style a reason to be scared of him. Instead, Fadel has spent quality time with Style, has engaged in conversation more than ever before, has asked him personal questions about his life and has even shared a little bit about his own life, which wasn't much but it was a start. They've had serious talks, sexy talks, fun talks, they were silly together and laughed together and they sat on the floor and shared pain together. Fadel didn't even get murderous over a potential break-up in the very beginning when Style was still nervous around him. Style spent the entire episode falling in love with Fadel, despite knowing about his occupation. "Can you open up for me? / Will you lay yourself bare for me?" Style responds to Fadel's warning. It's encouragement in several ways. It's encouragement for Fadel to try to learn that he can in fact trust someone (Style) 100%, that he can in fact be fully open with someone (Style). And it's encouragement for Fadel to tell Style his secret. Style needs Fadel to open up, to admit the truth himself first. Style needs it, so that they can openly talk about it without having to dance around the subject and talk in metaphors. He needs it so that there will be one less thing that he is lying about, so that he'll be one step closer to being able to be 100% honest with Fadel. And it has to be Fadel specifically who says it first so that Style can just run with it, because if Fadel finds out that Style was already in the know then both Kant and his mission as well as the 80% trust that Fadel has granted Style are on the line.

"I promise that no matter who you are, I’ll still like you." And there it is. Style's decision. His mind and his heart were fighting a battle and his heart won. Rationally he knows Fadel is dangerous and that he should stay away from him if he values his own life, but the heart wants what the heart wants. And even though it's not exactly like he can just say I know what you are and I fell in love anyway, I want to be with you despite it all, he still tries to get the message across.

Fadel doesn't believe his promise, though. "Words are cheap. I’ll do that when you’re ready. You can judge, then." Again, I think Fadel has a point. Fadel's response works whether Fadel is aware that Style knows or not. Because yes, Style may say he'll like Fadel no matter his occupation, but Style still hasn't seen the killer in action. Fadel's words mean Decide whether you still like me or not only when you find out my real occupation before you promise anything as much as they mean Decide whether you still like me or not once you've actually seen me murder someone in front of you before you promise anything. Style has already made a decision about the former, but he is yet to make a decision about the latter.

But in reality he has already made a choice and he is set on it: "One day, I’ll be your 100%." He wants Fadel's full trust and he wants Fadel's full heart. He will show Fadel that he will stay by his side and that Fadel's trust in him will be worth it. He will show Fadel that the mortifying ordeal of Being Known™ is not as scary as it seems. He means it when he says he'll like Fadel no matter what. Because now he already cares and worries about him much more deeply than he could ever have anticipated. Assassin be damned. He can get over it. And also, Fadel being dangerous is really fucking hot. "I just hope you don’t get any new scars."

I've already made a post about it, but I just want to point out: Fadel's scar is positioned right above his heart. I do very much wonder if the scar is related to the guy Fadel danced with in the flashback. Is he the reason why Fadel doesn't trust anyone 100%? Did whatever happened with that guy not just metaphorically leave a scar on Fadel's heart but also physically? Either way, we know how it's going to end:

Style's love is going to heal Fadel's scarred heart.

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

just wondering, do you know about the cross-collar rule in asian attire? (if not nbd, just thought you might have some interesting thoughts on it in regards to the first ninja)

YES!!! I do actually!!! ;DD Tho admittedly I only discovered it a few years ago and while I 100% incorporated it into my First Ninja headcanons, I didn't have a chance to share it, I guess, haha. ;D

For those curious about the cross-collar rule: Japanese kimono is traditionally worn left side wrapped over right, unless the wearer is deceased.

Tho in RC9GN character sheets designs - ALL kimono wearing characters with the right side wrapped over left.

While I have no idea if this was an animation error due to negligence of research, or a deliberate choice with or without that clothing rule in mind (considering they travel to past and technically all people they saw are dead in the future lol), but you sure as hell can believe me that my mind run absolutely feral with that tidbit.

In some of my posts I mentioned my hcs about how First Ninja is incredibly loyal to his Clan and the siblings he lost, about how much survival guilt he must have suffered, and how much effort and energy he puts into making sure that the Ninja - the culmination of all their efforts - must survive and live on, all in order to keep the Sorcerer contained and their newfound home (and the world) safe and secure. To the point that he would immerse himself completely into his role of the protector and erase any other identity that he had left - an incredibly utterly noble and stupidly horrifying gesture of self-sacrifice for the continuous survival of his clan even at the price of his civilian life.

I trust you can see where the cross-collar rule comes into play with this. ;)

Because in First Ninja's mind - he is a dead man walking. Whatever was left of his semi-normal life with his siblings had been slipping away from him with every loss, until there was nothing left but the duty his clan had taken on. Whatever he was before that, whatever he could have been - has been dead for a long time. And contrary to harsh wording I use, I do not really see First regard it as a great loss - it is still a loss, but here comes a rule of 'the sacrifice of one for the good of many' (something this Clan will surely understand) - if anything it would seem like a logical progression for all the events of his life.

There is a reason I built my headcanons around First Ninja as the youngest of the Clan: if your whole life revolved around an important duty, it would not seem like the great sacrifice for you to devote your entire life to it to that kind of point considering all the circumstances. I mean from an outside perspective it is pretty horrible, but when you literally grew up in the situation? Its a different matter.

But the rule also can be interpreted in a more (?) uplifting manner because, if you took notice - his Ninja suit is also wrapped right over left, and in this case I chose to interpret it as not sign of death but rather continuity, an immortality of sorts if you will - because even if what was left of that young Norisu lord is dead - the Ninja will live on through inheritance, and no matter how much time will pass, how many inheritors will come and go - Ninja itself will survive. And isnt that an immortality in itself?

Admittedly while I have a great deal of thoughts about this, I'm not good at sharing my headcanons (even now I reread what I wrote and wonder if its even coherent haha...), and so far I only managed to allude to the cross-collar rule in one of my MIS posts:

Where First Ninja is still a mortal but who wears his clothes like a dead man, and Chase Young is an immortal who would not even think of dying, lol.

But trust me, while Im struggling to express all of that - every time I draw First, that rule and all the angsty implications of it are constantly on my mind. ;)

[mj-iza-writer]

I'm loving lab whumps lately. I don't know why.

"What's for lunch today?", Whumpee lifted their head to watch Whumper tighten the last strap.

"Tator tots and turkey sandwiches", Whumper frowned, "that looks tight. Is that too tight?", they tried to tuck a finger under the strap.

"A little, but it's okay", Whumpee looked at them with puppy eyes.

Whumper turned to a table and grabbed a few items.

"You are quite talkative for someone strapped to the Doc's table. Unaware of what you may be about to endure", someone stood next to the table and watched Whumper.

"They don't get nervous anymore", Whumper sighed as they filled a syringe, "they just talk through it now."

"That doesn't bother you?"

"No not really Carmen", Whumper chuckled, "makes my job a little easier, and I can hear my music playing when my patient isn't on my table screaming."

Whumpee glanced at a few people working by the table.

"Don't worry about what they're doing", Whumper wiped an alcohol wipe along Whumpee's arm, "you shouldn't feel anything from this", Whumper felt for the right spot to inject the substance, "this should actually numb you. We are testing a numbing agent."

Whumpee nodded.

"Do you feel anything?", Whumper tapped on the space after a few minutes.

"Not there", Whumpee answered.

Whumper tapped around a few different spots to see what the diameter of numbness was and marked accordingly.

"Alright, nurse is going to run a few tests to see how numb you actually are", Whumper looked over the arm, "answer with yes or no. If yes, rate from 1-5. One being light feelings, five being ouch."

Whumpee nodded again.

Carmen chuckled, "well, aren't you so well behaved."

Whumpee kept their head turned, so not to watch and mess up the test.

"Round one", the nurse stated, "do you feel this?"

"No", Whumpee answered after a few seconds.

"Carmen", Whumper whispered, "come here."

"Let's let the nurse do their job", Whumper leaned against the wall and watched.

"Have they always been this calm?", Carmen also watched.

"No, they use to scream until they couldn't. I wouldn't even do anything to them, and they would scream. It got to me, I would get very violent with them. The tests I'd run on them would purposely hurt. It went on for months", Whumper sighed as they thought back.

"What changed?", Carmen heard Whumpee say yes to feeling something.

"There was a test I had to run on them. I had to end up explaining it carefully to them or else it wouldn't have worked right", Whumper grinned when Whumpee replied with a two, "they were nervous during the test, but it was successful."

Whumper looked at Carmen.

"That was the first time I saw Whumpee as a human, and not some tool for me to use and abuse."

"Why though? What happened there that triggered a positive response in your relationship?", Carmen asked curiously.

"After the test was successful, I gave them a treat... part of my cookie. I was so proud. I curiously asked them what made it easier for them to follow what needed to be done. Whumpee said that having it explained to them made it more bearable. They understood that it had a meaning and though nervous that they would mess up... they tried. I realized then that Whumpee was probably curious about things that were going on around them. I believe they have a right to know... so back then I told them that we could allow for questions and curiosities before testing if it would make it easier on them. They agreed."

"So Whumpee isn't afraid of things in here and the things being done to them because they know you will answer any questions they have before hand", Carmen looked down, "they learned to trust you."

"Yes, they are human. They should be allowed to...."

"Doc we need you", the nurse called.

Whumper froze for a second to watch as everyone in the room hurried to Whumpee's side.

Whumper jumped in as well.

"Stats, what's going on", Whumper watched as Whumpee shook violently, "talk to me people", Whumper yelled.

"Blood pressure has increased..."

"We are picking up spikes in Whumpee's brain waves..."

Whumpee fought against the restraints. Their body jerked violently.

Whumper opened one of Whumpee's eyes and shined a light.

"Pupils are dilated", Whumper started to unstrap Whumpee, "they are having a seizure. We need them on their side in the recovery position. Hurry and get these straps off. I need everyone to surround the table to make sure Whumpee does not flop off."

"They would be better on the floor", Carmen stepped up and helped remove the straps.

"I agree, but I'm not moving them right now", Whumper helped push Whumpee, "they are foaming at the mouth. Whoever is by the head needs to keep that area wiped clean."

"Yes Doc", someone spoke over the chaos.

"Alright come on Whumpee", Whumper patted their shoulder.

"Reminder do not hold them down. Let their body do its thing", Whumper had noticed a nurse holding Whumpee's ankle, "you'll get hurt trying to hold onto them."

"Do they have a history of seizures?", Carmen looked up at the monitors.

"Nope, this is a first", Whumper turned to the monitor, "this is going longer than I would like."

A few more seconds passed.

Whumpee stopped shaking violently and squinted one of their eyes open.

"Pain level is... five", Whumpee mumbled, "what just happened?"

"You had a seizure", Whumper patted their shoulder, "you were out for longer than I would have liked. We need to check a few things to make sure you are okay."

"Can I nap first.... mm tired", Whumpee frowned.

"No you may not", Whumper started to role Whumpee back onto their back, "come on, we need to clean you up and get the test done. I'll let you sleep after."

Whumpee was slowly sat up.

"I think I peed myself", Whumpee frowned.

"That happens. We will get you all cleaned", a nurse hurried over.

"So do you remember anything that led to that happening?", Whumper wiped away a line of snot oozing down Whumpee's face.

"We were on round.... uh... round....mm I don't remember. I don't even know if nurse had done something, I just remember saying that I didn't feel well. Then I heard them call for you. I knew something bad was happening", Whumpee looked down, "I'm really tired."

"Alright, let's get you on the floor. All of the monitors are reading normal or going back to normal", Whumper looked at the screens surrounding the table, "we will get you comfortable. I want you still connected to the monitors."

Whumper stood after laying Whumpee down.

"I need all the data that was found on this incident", Whumper reached down and ruffled Whumpee's hair, "quite an interesting reaction we had here today."

Whumpee nodded and laid their head down on a blanket one of the nurse set out for them.

"Can I still have tator tots", Whumpee watched Whumper walk away, "is it lunch time?"

"You can", Whumper nodded at a nurse. Who turned and left the room.

Carmen watched from nearby.

Whumper leaned onto the table that Whumpee just came off of. They clicked a few items on the monitors.

"Really interesting", Whumper studied the monitors. Their chin rested on their hand in thought.

"What are you thinking?", Carmen's interest got the best of them and they walked over.

"Whumpee has never had a seizure before. The ingredients in that injection are normal. Nothing Whumpee is allergic to. I'm wondering if the ingredients combined caused this, and if so, could it happen again. Is it isolated to one person, or could this affect others."

"Too bad you don't have another test subject", Carmen sighed.

"Yeah too bad", Whumper sighed. They smirked as they looked up, an evil sparkle in their eyes.

"Did you remember something?", Carmen stepped away nervously, "I don't like that face too much."

"Its the only face I have", Whumper looked at the door, "guards."

People in heavy armor poured in. The door was immediately blocked.

"I've decided that our friend Carmen here would be a perfect test subject. Please arrest them for me", Whumper walked over to Whumpee again.

"You can't do this", Carmen fought against the guards grabbing them, "I'm supposed to be a partner with you. That was the deal."

"I never agreed to anything", Whumper grinned, "everything that you thought would happen was your own fantasy. It was already planned that you would be my new test subject", Whumper knelt down and patted Whumpee's head.

Whumpee watched nervously.

"And what perfect timing. I know what you can help me with", Whumper watched the nurse carry in a plate of tator tots and a sandwich.

"Don't worry, I always take care of my test subjects. You'll get to eat soon too, but since we are already in here, let's get some stats. To the table with them guards", Whumper reached for the plate, "mm, these looks delicious Whumpee", they grabbed a tot and ate it, "I'll be in here for a while. I might have to ask for a plate myself."

Whumpee shyly nodded.

Whumper offered a tot to Whumpee, then set the plate down next to them.

Carmen screamed as the straps were tightened.

Whumper ruffled Whumpee's hair gingerly, "get some rest after you eat. Let me know if you don't feel good again. Okay."

Whumpee watched them stand before nodding.

"Such a good Whumpee. Don't worry about Carmen. As long as they follow my rules they will be just fine", Whumper grinned before looking at Carmen.

Carmen fearfully stared back. Their shirt had been torn open. Monitors were being stuck to them in various locations.

"Keep in mind", Whumper began, "I've learned that my test subjects are human. I respect their autonomy. The moment you prove to me that you can't act human. That will be taken away from you. Am I clear?"

Carmen turned worriedly and looked at Whumpee.

Whumpee didn't dare look up. They were on Whumper's good list and wanted it to stay that way.

"They won't help you", Whumper noticed, "you have to decide on your own on how you will act."

Carmen felt tears in their eyes.

"What are you going to do to me?"

Whumper grinned evilly.

Carmen squeezed their eyes shut to get away from that evil stare.

"Aww don't worry", Whumper rested their hand on Carmen's quivering shoulder, "just be happy I'm past my evil scientist faze. Whumpee had to endure all of that. You get the nice Doc. Just be good and everything should be alright."

Carmen whispered, "please don't hurt me. Wait, uhm, wh-whats for dinner? Th-that's what Whumpee asked earlier right?"

Whumper chuckled, "very good question. I think I heard pot roast and some variation of potatoes. I think it sounds delicious. Let's get the data we need from you so you can be in your cell and comfortable before dinner."

Carmen sobbed all though the data captures.

Their legs felt like jelly when they were stood up for pictures.

"Wh-what is all of this for?", Carmen felt lightheaded.

"Doctor wants a profile set up for you. It will have your picture. You will answer a questionnaire about things you like and personal info. It will be updated with stats... like the data we just got from you", a nurse started pulling a few of the stickers off.

Whumper walked in from taking Whumpee to their cell.

"Their cell is ready for them when you are all done", Whumper announced.

"They're done. Just the questionnaire which we get tomorrow", another nurse looked at Carmen, "we have everything we need from them."

"Perfect", Whumper rubbed their hands together, "I always enjoy getting new toys."

Carmen snapped their head to Whumper.

"Oh, is there something you would like to say?", Whumper smirked, "think before you speak is my suggestion."

"N-no", Carmen mumbled.

"I thought so", Whumper chuckled.

Carmen looked into each of the cells as they were led to their own.

"Where is Whumpee's?", they looked around when they were stopped.

"Oh they're a few halls away", Whumper turned, "I have a weird thing about having test subjects close together. I feel that escape attempts could be planned if we're not careful. I have plenty of cells to keep everyone separated. Though I would love to see all of these cells filled. Maybe one day. As for right now, I want my well behaved Whumpee to stay that way."

Carmen was released and pushed into the cell. The door slammed shut and locked.

"Please this joke has gone long enough. It was really funny... except for the bath... and bloodwork... I don't like needles", Carmen panicked and pressed their hands against the solid door of their cell, "you can let me out now."

"I'm not one for jokes. Dinner will be served in about an hour. Enjoy your room", Whumper and the guards promptly turned and walked away.

Carmen dropped to their knees, "no please", they yelled.

They slammed their fist against the door until it ached.

"Please....please", Carmen sobbed as they folded themself into a ball and cried.

"Pitiful", someone from the outside stated in annoyance. A small door was opened, and a tray was slid in.

Carmen looked at it nervously.

"Eat, I will be back in thirty to collect. Whatever you don't eat will be taken away. If you refuse to eat, the Doctor will happily put a feeding tube down your nose", they warned.

"I've been forced to be lab rat. How would you feel if that was your fate?", Carmen clenched their teeth.

"That was your fault. You trusted a scientist who so eagerly showed you their lab rat and a recent experiment. You weren't leaving here alive. You accepted the invitation. You can only blame yourself."

Carmen stared for several moments. Even after the person left.

The food caught their attention. It did look good.

"What have I done?", Carmen reached for tray. They looked all over for eating utensils.

A click came from somewhere in the room.

"There is a peace of curved cardboard on your tray. Use that to eat", a static voice came through.

Carmen looked again and found it. They held it up to show whoever was watching.

"Yep", the static voice agreed, "your food is already cut into pieces. You just need to spoon it into your mouth."

Carmen looked at the food again.

"Is this what I've been reduced to?", Carmen whispered as they gathered their first bite.

"At least the food is good", Carmen sighed, "listen to me", they rolled their eyes, "accepting this treatment because I was given good food."

"Just be happy you get to eat", Whumper's voice came over, "and stop complaining. I can make this worse for you."

Carmen sighed.

"What have I done?"

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath

@porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst

@generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened

@freefallingup13 @notpeppermint

@cyborg0109 @idontreallyexistyet

@painfulplots @whumpbump

@everythingsscary @skittles-the-whumpee

@expressionless-fr @theforeverdyingperson

@legendarydelusiongoatee @candleshopmenace

@whumpanthems @lavndvrr

@ivymyers @starfields08000

@a-living-canvas @lumpofsand

@watermeezer @indigoviolet311

@whumpy-mountains @3-2-whump

@risk606 @electrons2006

@paperprinxe @whumprince

@kaz-of-crows @mis-graves

@decaffeinatedtimetraveler94 @sausages-things

@castiels-favorite-hunter @isikedmyself878

@daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud @valravnthefrenchie

@glennemerald @jasperthecapser

@does-directions @deafeninglittlecrown

@jumpywhumpywriter @blackbirdsinatrenchcoat

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @thenormalestever

@whatwhump @galatic-worm

@starmoon-constellation @bacillusinfection

@whumpsandbumps @tobiasbones

@octopus-reactivated

[lo1k-diamonds]

I suppose this is what people call a Christmas miracle.

I had to leave the most Christmassy fic I've read for the end. Leave it to none other than the Queen to make a new classic filled with drama and plot twists.

Initially, I didn't touch this fic because I thought, Hmm, the way this summary goes, there's cheating for sure. Which is not my thing. BUT THEN someone made an ask or something about it, and I gave it a shot, and oh boy!

As the story played out, I kept thinking, But why? Why this decision? Why did he answer like that? Why did she act like that? Where is this going?!

And it's an art, really, to concoct such an engaging story with complex characters, each with their own motivations, fears, and ghosts. I know it may sound obvious, but this type of world-building and character development in a story with a fairly straight-to-the-point premise that ends up being anything but is not so common. I was entangled from the first scene, wondering what OC was running away from and how that meeting would shape the story, and then it hits, and it doesn't stop.

This story is like a book, with constant twists and turns, and when shit hits the fan, it does! I was so shocked when Alia actually came through and turned out not to be petty or just a c*nt, basically. I was constantly fearing that she'd turn out to be sooooo much worse, but in the end, she's human, making mistakes, and redeems herself. Taehyung is very respectful in all this; I'm not sure I would have handled it with so much grace cause Alia be damned, that confrontation was fucked up, and he didn't deserve to be treated that way. I'd also give OC kudos because between fainting of mortification and running away, I know for sure I would not have stayed put after that whole thing went down 🙈

But long story short - incredible read, through and through! I was so curious, anticipating every confrontation, and screaming and kicking when it happened, not to mention their sweet reunion and baby talks and awwwwwwwwwwwww, so cute 🥰🥺

But maybe they should visit Taehyung's family next year for Christmas... 👀

A Christmas Fix — 01 (m) | kth

⟶ Summary | One-night stands are supposed to be nothing more than just. It shouldn’t have involved seeing those two red lines looking back at you weeks later without a name or a contact number linking you back to your mystery man. Nothing more but his face. The unforgettable face that would sometimes appear in your dreams at night. So unforgettable that you immediately recognise him the moment he walks into your family home at Christmas, hand-in-hand with your older stepsister.

With special collab prompt: "the holidays aren't so bad with you around."

⟶ Title | A Christmas Fix

⟶ Pairings | Taehyung x female reader

⟶ Genre | Secret Baby!au, Second Chance!au, Strangers to Lovers!au

⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; including: alcohol consumption, mentions of pregnancy, vomiting/morning sickness, surprise babies, miscommunication, profanities/swearing, minor body insecurities (implied), some family drama; involves multiple explicit sex scenes, including: sexual tension, one night stand, drunk sex (with clear consent), minor dom/sub dynamic, brat!reader, size kink, rough sex, light choking, restraint, hair pulling (M, F), protected & unprotected sex, fingering (F), oral sex (F), clit play, breast play, stripping, biting, minor hand job/groping, grinding, masturbation (M, F), dirty talk, implied pain kink, praise kink, body worship, marking, multiple orgasms (M, F), overstimulation.

⟶ Word count | 25,363 words (of 54,773 words)

⟶ Story Notes | Part of the Jingle All the Way collaboration with @leahsfavefics, @kithtaehyung, @kpopfanfictrash, @cybrsan, and @sugaurora | Written in 2nd person POV (in case you’re new to my writing, I don’t use ‘y/n’ coding as all of my lead characters are considered as OCs) | Moodboard was done by me | Posted in: January 31st, 2024 by @yoonia

⟶ Author Notes | I know that this is so late, but December has always been a rough month for me and this time it continued until January. I hope you can still enjoy this story regardless. Happy belated holidays and happy new year, my loves!

⟶ Jingle All the Way collab masterlist | A Christmas Fix: next chapter ⇢

⟶ Main Masterlist | Taglist | Feedback | Mailbox | Ko-fi

⟶ Read on AO3

One month ago…

You already had everything perfectly planned out when you first thought of this trip some long months ago. 

Everything. 

From your personal bucket list full of wonderful things that you wanted to experience during your time away and the places that you wanted to see, down to the smallest details that you could possibly think of to be able to enjoy every single moment of your secret getaway.

Just like the red dress that you had chosen to wear tonight. The dress you had meticulously picked and bought to wear on the trip as you went to celebrate your newfound freedom. 

In your well-thought-out plan, you were supposed to have landed on the tropical island you were headed to by sundown. The warm tropical breeze should have been embracing you at the start of your trip instead of the cold, chilly wind flowing right outside these walls. 

By this evening, you should have already settled in nicely in the comfort of your hotel room right by the beachside. The calming sound of the rushing waves outside your window was the sound that you should have been listening to while resting from your long flight. 

You had pictured yourself embracing your freedom in a foreign land. To feel the soft sand slipping between your toes as you were playing chase with the rushing waves, and to find calmness that you could only get far away from the treacherous city where you came from. 

The trip was meant to help you mend your soul. Perfectly planned out as an escape from reality and leave all of your past hurt behind before starting a new chapter of your life. 

And yet, no matter how thoroughly you had it all planned out, somehow life simply found a way to mess it all up. Just like how it had always been. So perhaps you shouldn’t have been so surprised when it happened to you again, just when you thought that you had everything under control. 

You should have seen the signs long before everything started crumbling down.

The sky that kept growing darker ever since you left the city. The constant turbulences happening during your first flight that made the trip feel intense. The unsettling feeling you met the moment you landed in this place for your transit. The constant announcements echoing through the airport about flights that were getting delayed and cancelled while you were getting no news about your transit flight’s departure. 

You should have been prepared to face reality, keeping in mind that life hadn’t been so nice to you lately to let you slip away that easily. Yet your stubbornness prevailed. And after your most recent predicament, you needed this trip to happen. You needed to be right. 

After all, you have made it all the way here. It would have been impossible for you to return home, wouldn’t it?

So you remained in denial and were so stubbornly holding onto hope that you would soon be taken away from this place towards your dream destination. Even when the world around you seemed to be falling apart. 

But after long hours of waiting, you were finally forced to accept your fate, letting go of any hope you had left to escape this place when they officially cancelled the rest of today’s flights due to unresolved weather issues. Including yours.

“I’m sorry, but we really can’t promise you anything at this moment. There will be no flights until the storm passes and our pilots are cleared to fly again. Until then, we have nothing to tell you.” 

The staff’s swift response to your inquiries about getting on the first flight available to take you to your destination only left you with a dead end. Even flying back home was no longer an option, only because that would only mean that you were admitting defeat. 

And that was how you ended up here tonight, stranded right between the daunting city that you called home and the paradise that you wished to be in until an unforeseeable future. Your dream of enjoying the night in the comfort of the beachside hotel room overlooking the wide, clear ocean, had been replaced with the reality where you had to spend overnight at the airport’s transit hotel that the airline staff helped book for you. 

You released a sigh as you leaned back against the elevator wall. Recounting the events again only brought back all the terrible mood you were having. And it didn’t help that the last message that your roommate sent you only reminded you of your setback. 

From Skye: Just checking on you on your secret getaway. I hope you’re having a blast right now. I wish you’d tell me where you’re heading so I can have a good reason to be jealous. Be safe!

Another sigh came from your lips as you wondered—

Now how am I supposed to answer her text? 

Before you could find an answer, the elevator doors opened as it reached the lobby downstairs. You put away your phone as you stepped out, and immediately got lost in your thoughts. Your mind once again getting too loud as it keeps you company. 

At first, you had no intention of hiding this trip from her. Yet all the circumstances leading to this weekend had made it hard for you to share anything to anyone.

You were planning to wait until you were finally there so you could surprise her with pictures from the beautiful beach or your comfortable hotel room. Showing her the pretty nighttime scene from the tropical island would have been a nice way to flaunt your secret getaway rather than boasting it when your fate had been filled with uncertainty. 

But instead of having an evening walk down the beach, you were trudging across the lobby inside an airport hotel, accompanied by the sound of your heels clicking on the marble floors instead of having sand soiling your feet. 

And the view outside the window that you got to see earlier had been nowhere close to the pretty beach with its white sand and rolling waves. Instead, you had a clear view of the dark night sky, painted with the raging storm and its blaring thunders so strong they almost caused the entire bedroom to shake. Neither showed any sign of calming down any time soon, leaving you with no other choice but to do what you could to enjoy your temporary stay.

And you were going to start doing so by having a quick drink to help you unwind for the night. 

The red dress that you were wearing might seem a bit excessive for a nightcap, but for a short while, it helped you forget where you were. It felt almost as if you were walking in a dream as you strolled down the lower lobby in search of the hotel bar. 

Entering the hotel bar, however, became another wake-up call. 

The bar was quite large for a transit hotel, accommodating the patrons filling the place tonight. You had hoped that you could have a dance or two with a friendly stranger before retreating to your hotel room to rest, yet the closed-off lounge area had more space filled with box seats than the open dance floor. The seating area was the only place in the bar which was dimly lit, allowing the guests some privacy while they settled in with their drinks. 

The small chandeliers glittering from the ceiling were far from the hanging lights that you pictured hanging in a beachside bar. Just like the one place you had seen pictures of while planning for your trip. The lights you were seeing here made the entire space beneath seem luxurious, spreading a soft golden glow over the wary faces trying to enjoy the night. 

The pulsing bass that came out of the speakers was enough to drown the sound of the violent storm happening on the other side of these walls, further helping to create an illusion that you were in another place. That you were somewhere else instead of being stranded inside an airport hotel, together with all the strangers who seemed to be facing the same fate as you did. 

You made your way towards the main bar, suddenly feeling hyperaware of your surroundings. Even without looking, you could feel people’s eyes following your movements. Yet you paid no heed to them. You were only here to quiet down the raging storm happening inside your head, after all. 

A strong scent of old wood took over the bar area. Mixed in with the excessive scent of air fresheners and cleaners, it was enough to remind you that you were miles and miles away from the beautiful island where you had been so desperate to be. 

Smoothing your palms down your red dress, you took one empty seat at the bar. You caught the bartender’s eyes as he walked past, and within moments, a glass of strawberry daiquiri ended up in your hand. 

This feels nice, you wondered to yourself as you sat back and tried to relax.

One sip of the sweet alcoholic drink was all that it took to refresh your mind. As the warmth from your drink ran smoothly through your body, any doubt and wariness you felt began to fade. 

The next sip of the drink managed to ease your thoughts down a bit more. It helped push away the reminders of your troubles to the back of your mind. Finding calmness, you took another quick look at your surroundings.

The seating lounge seemed to be filled with guests more than the main bar was. Stranded travellers like yourself. At first glance, the nicely dressed men in suits made it seem like you were in a bar downtown. As if they were nothing more than a group of businessmen seeking leisure on a Friday night with drinks. 

It only took you looking a few seats away from them for the illusion to shatter. Your eyes fell on a group of men and women wearing their summer clothing who were making a toast, acting as if they were at the peak of their vacation. 

Looking at the scene made you realise that you weren’t the only one feeling miserable tonight. You wondered just how badly these people here needed to forget. How many of them here might be similar to you, stranded in an unexpected situation while trying to escape reality? 

You raised your glass to hide your bitter smile. The smooth liquid continued to flow through your body and you slowly began to find some peace of mind. Before you knew it, you had finished your drink, though you weren’t exactly ready to return to your cold bedroom. 

“Can I order you another glass of drink?” 

A deep voice invaded your senses after a long period of silence, and it was coming from your side. You had been far too deep in your reverie that you didn’t even realise that someone had taken the empty seat right beside you at the bar. 

Curious to see this friendly stranger, you slowly turned around to look at him. And what you saw in him nearly took your breath away. 

A tall, lean man was sitting there. His slick hair had a few curls at the end of each strands, and he had combed them back, leaving nothing more than a few stands framing his handsome face that looked almost as if it had been sculpted by the fine hands of masters in art. His sharp nose and jawline drew your attention, while his deep and soulful eyes that appeared like pools of rich mahogany drew you in, as if he was hiding a story behind his intense gaze. But it was his plump lips that formed into a smile which caught your eyes the most.

At your silence that stretched out while you were busy being captivated by him, he raised his eyebrows. It made you realise that he was waiting for your answer. An answer to a question that you had so obviously missed. 

“I’m sorry?” 

He tilted his chin to point at your now empty glass. “You look like you could use another glass, and I’d love to get one for you,” he said with an amused tone of voice. 

Once again, his deep, velvety voice hit you deeply. It resonated through your body, and a shudder ran down your spine. You refused to believe that he was able to cause this effect on you solely through his voice or his pretty smile. 

But how else would you explain the reaction that was drawn from your body? 

I don’t think I’m that drunk already, you wondered.

It was probably the way he spoke to you which affected you so much. The way he was asking a question with pure confidence. As if he already knew your answer, and that it would be impossible for you to refuse his offer. 

And he wasn’t completely wrong about it. 

What remained from your sullen mood immediately shifted in his presence. And while you have no intention of turning him down, you decided that you were not going to make things easy for him. 

“An interesting offer that seems like such a waste for me to refuse,” you sweetly said to him, smiling as your eyes fell on his empty hands. “But how would a woman feel at ease to accept such an offer from a man who isn’t even holding a glass in his hand?” 

He squinted his eyes at you, which only made his gaze feel more intense. “Are you afraid that I might be planning to get you drunk?” 

You softly laughed. “Not sure if I should be so worried about that. Getting drunk tonight has always been my initial plan all along,” you coyly said, hiding the fact that it was never your intention to get wild tonight. But his appearance intrigued you enough to change your mind about ending the night so soon.  

The mysterious man remained oblivious to this as he laughed with you. His wide, almost boxy grin mesmerised you in an instant and you were once again left speechless. 

He waved his hand to grab the bartender’s attention. It was nothing more but a simple gesture, yet you were somewhat drawn to it. To him.  

While he greeted the bartender, you took the chance to have a better look at this man. You noticed that he was a bit different compared to the other men that you saw around you earlier. 

Dressed in a black jacket over his plain white shirt, he didn’t seem as sophisticated as the stranded businessmen in their flashy suits sitting together at the bar’s lounge. Yet he had a different level of confidence which was enough to make your cheeks feel warm. 

In your eyes, he was alluring, almost as intensely as the dark storm happening outside. And you couldn’t resist being pulled towards him. 

“Another glass of the same drink for the lady and a glass of grasshopper for me,” he smoothly spoke as he ordered the drinks for you.

The bartender nodded and went to work, while you slid closer to him. His fresh-scented cologne immediately hit you, and your confidence nearly wavered that you almost slid back. But then he caught you with his gaze as he turned back to you, giving you the kind of attention which boosted every bit of ego you had. 

“So you also prefer something light and sweet. How intriguing,” you teased him, bringing back his alluring grin. 

“Why do you think I came here to join you? It was obviously for the fruity drinks and to have someone to drink it together with,” he joked.

You rolled your eyes at him and smiled. Before you got to say something in return, the bartender came back with his order. The man took a sip of his drink first before you took yours. Once again, the sweetness from your drink swirled through your body, chipping away at the tension that had been weighing you down ever since the day’s saga began. 

“To be honest, I also thought that you were looking a bit rough.” His remark brought your attention back to him. The tease was gone from his voice. All that was left was a gentle concern that seemed genuine. “And you looked like you needed a friend. That’s why I invited myself to join you.” 

It makes you feel uneasy to think that you were being so transparent. So much so that a complete stranger like himself was able to see right through you. 

“You think so? Wait until you hear how rough I’m feeling inside as well,” you bitterly said to him, drawing a soft smile to his face. 

“That makes the two of us then,” he said to you gently with his eyes on his glass of drink. There was a forlorn look in his eyes as he slowly twirled the glass, causing the liquid to swish around before he took another sip from it. 

“Care to share?” you questioned him before you could stop yourself, only to pull yourself back. “Sorry, that sounds creepy. We just met and here I am, prying into someone else’s business,” you nervously laughed.  

His gaze softened when he looked at you. Furthermore, he also seemed intrigued. 

“No, not at all.” His voice was calm, and it somehow helped to calm your nerves. “I was just about to lend an ear in case you needed someone to vent to. I never expected that you would be a step ahead of me before I could make the offer.” 

The comment he gave you made you feel warm inside. 

“Mine’s a long story,” you bitterly said to him as you raised your glass, almost giving in to the urge to take a hefty drink and finish it off when everything started coming back to you again.

The reason behind this trip, why you were stranded here on your own, while being far, far away from home, and all the drama that had gotten in the way when you had been so desperate to get away from everything. 

Unsurprisingly, the man merely shrugged. “I’ve got time to spare. My flight won’t leave until tomorrow. And that is if they’re allowed to fly out of here at all.” 

You smiled at him. “Same here. I guess we’re both stranded here all night, huh?” 

He leaned in just then, invading your personal space and filling it with his presence. And you didn’t even mind it as you leaned into him, meeting him halfway to welcome him into your little safety bubble. 

“And I was worried that I might get stuck feeling lonely while being stranded in this place,” he gently murmured, drawing a smile to your face.  

“I doubt that you would end up alone tonight,” you teased him, simply because there was no possible way that someone as attractive as he was would be returning to his hotel bedroom alone. 

His smile grew, yet the deep, dark look in his eyes shifted into something else. Something naughty and sinful. It made you feel a new sensation brewing inside even without him ever having to touch you. 

“Is that an invitation?” he asked with his deep voice that came grazing at your skin. 

Normally, you wouldn’t know what to say in return. It had been so long since you played this kind of game with someone. With anyone. But his presence and his words were drawing something out of you. A part of you that you never thought existed. And you surprised yourself when you played along, taunting danger head-on as you challenged this handsome stranger before you— 

“Would you like it to be?” 

Something flashed in his eyes. It was dark and intense, and it was sucking you in. It brought a myriad of sensations that unexpectedly went straight down to your core. 

In the deep silence that fell right after, the world around you faded. Even before you got to know his name, before you had the chance to share your story, you already knew the answer that he was about to give you as a response to your question. 

And you also knew right then, that the sparks that came rising around you were something that you would never be able to easily forget, even if every bit of memory you had about him would fade over time. 

Present…

Why do I keep thinking about that night all over again?

You can only wonder, as you keep being reminded of that eventful night. 

Weeks, nearly a month have gone by ever since, yet the memories seem to have been engraved deeply in your thoughts. And today, even though you haven’t really been thinking about it since, you suddenly find yourself having no trouble recounting everything that happened then. 

Well, almost everything. 

Some parts may seem blurry now. All due to the passing of time and the fact that you were partly inebriated at the time. But you can still recall some parts of the night that had clearly left a strong impression on you—the first encounter and the conversation you shared before alcohol took over, the instant attraction that you felt, but most of all, his entire presence. 

And they all have been coming into your thoughts while you are sitting here in the corner of your bathroom. Alone. With your arms wrapped around your folded knees and your eyes closed. As if you are waiting for a miracle to happen. 

You scoff at the thought. 

Right. Miracles. 

Years have long passed since you stopped believing that miracles do exist. Life always has its way of blindsiding you with its twists and turns that miracles no longer seem to matter anymore. 

Not for you, at least. 

Your past experiences have only caused you to look at it with sceptical eyes, sometimes even with bitterness, knowing that life has never been on your side. 

But here you are now, wishing, praying, holding onto hope that there would be a miracle to stop you from getting into a messy situation. One that you know you wouldn’t be able to handle on your own. 

After all, the perfect season of miracles is right around the corner. So it wouldn’t be so wrong for you to have some faith in them again now, would it? 

Your phone starts blaring with the sound of the alarm, snapping you out of it. Slowly, you rise on your wobbly feet. It feels as if your entire body has grown numb even before you get to face reality as it comes glaring back at you. 

Clutching onto the edges of your bathroom counter, you try to hold yourself together, and immediately failing, as you look at the two thin white strips lying on the cold counter and feel your entire world tilting off of its axis. 

All because of the two red lines that are clearly visible on each strip.

“Oh, fuck,” you softly groan. Deep down, you had already predicted this. Yet you kept denying it, hoping that you would be wrong.

“No, no, no—” you continue murmuring to yourself while wishing that you could somehow turn back time and change everything before things started going the wrong way. 

Back to this morning, when your roommate caught you—once again—throwing up last night’s dinner before handing you the unopened pregnancy test packs that she has been keeping safe in her room with the premise, “Just in case.” 

Or maybe you could return to last night when she pointed out your odd cravings—like dipping apples into peanut butter and eating leftover mac and cheese straight from the fridge without warming it in the microwave first—and joked about how you have been acting like a pregnant woman with your mood swings. 

Better yet, you wish you could go back to that night, back to that many weeks ago, when you allowed yourself to fall for a stranger’s charm which led you to spend the night with him. 

You close your eyes, once again murmuring to yourself, “This has got to be a dream.” 

But the moment you open your eyes again, nothing has changed. You are still standing there with your hands holding tightly onto the edges of the bathroom counter. And the two pregnancy test kits that you used are still lying on top of the counter for your eyes to see. 

A rapid sound of knocking on the bathroom door sends you jumping back. 

“Hey, ______? Is everything okay?” you hear your roommate, Skye, calling out for you. Her voice seems calm, yet when you recall hearing the sound of her footsteps moving back and forth outside of the door while you were taking the test, you know that she has been waiting just as anxiously as you were. “So—? What does it say?” 

Still in shock, and quite stuck in denial, you open your mouth only to have no words coming out of you. Your brain feels a bit hazy as you walk up to the door and open it for her. 

Skye takes one look at your face and her gaze softens. “What did it—” She shakes her head. “Oh, never mind, I’m dying to know. Let me see it,” she says as she brushes past you before you can say anything. 

Hoping that there is a chance that reality can change within the next few seconds, you refuse to turn around and once again close your eyes while she suddenly grows quiet.

Maybe you were just imagining things. Maybe you weren’t even looking at the test properly. Maybe—

“So, uhm—” you can hear Skye’s voice trembling a little as she hesitantly asks you, “Two lines mean it’s positive, is that right?” 

And just like that, every bit of hope you have in you flies out the window. “I wish I could say that it’s the other way around,” you softly murmur, feeling defeated. 

And the feeling grows stronger when you hear her cursing under her breath,

“Well, fuck.”

“What are you doing?” you ask Skye as you gingerly take a seat on the sofa. 

Once you both stepped away from the bathroom, she guided you to the living room while she sauntered away to the kitchen without a word. You can hear the noises she makes as she is busy rummaging through the counters. Yet you are too far away to see what she is up to. 

“Hang on a minute. Stay there,” she calls out without even looking. 

“Okay.” 

It’s not like you have any energy to go anywhere, after all. Your head is still spinning and you can barely feel your legs. It feels as if you are stuck in a bad dream and you just can’t get out of it. 

It doesn’t take long before Skye returns to your side, carrying with her two clean tall glasses in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. It was the same bottle that you opened when you celebrated your promotion a couple of weeks ago after coming back from the trip. 

Holy shit, you inwardly cry out. Your heartbeat rises as your hands find their way to your stomach. 

“Okay, let’s try to calm down,” Skye says to you as she places both glasses on the table before you, although it seems to you more as if she is talking to herself instead of reassuring you while you are panicking inside.

A couple of weeks ago? Wouldn’t I have been already pregnant then? 

These thoughts keep running through your head as you watch your roommate pouring wine into both glasses, just like the night she did the same when you first opened that same bottle. 

Dear God, how much did I drink that night? You ask yourself with a grimace as you try to remember. 

Wait, no. I didn’t drink anything, you remind yourself. Relief washes over you look back at the celebration night where you barely took a sip before Skye took the glass away from your hands. 

Because you were already feeling sick that day. 

You had been feeling nauseous for days, throwing up once in a while and mostly on the days when you were lacking sleep because of the workload you had to handle for the upcoming promotion. All you ever did was wet your lips with the wine after the celebratory toast. That was the only contact you made with the drink before Skye replaced it with a tall glass of alcohol-free smoothie that she made especially for your ‘upset stomach’.

Of course, how did I not see the signs? You wonder again as you remember the sickly feeling you had after vomiting each morning and feeling powerless for the rest of the day. It even got so bad that you had to skip work for a couple of days at the beginning of your ‘sickness’. 

If only you knew then. 

Your eyes are still on the wine glasses as Skye places them side by side and puts away the bottle. 

“Uh—I believe we both just saw the two lines appearing on the test packs.” 

She lets out a light scoff and waves her hand at you. “They're both for me. I’m going to need them while I process this,” she says, shaking her head as she sits down to join you on the sofa. “You get to keep that smoothie.” 

You follow her gaze and look down at the glass of smoothie that you left on the table during the whole fiasco with the pregnancy test. While you pick up your drink, Skye takes a hefty drink from one of the glasses of wine and sits back. 

“So—you’re pregnant,” she murmurs to herself. Her gaze flickers to your face for a brief moment and nods to herself before taking another drink. 

Why does it seem like she is the one panicking? 

She releases a sigh. Neither of you says anything for a moment. But you can tell when she grows more anxious by the minute. You don’t understand why, until she carefully asks you, “Are you going to tell Han?” 

Confused, you look at her with your brows furrowed and ask, “Why would I tell Han that I’m pregnant?” 

Skye looks genuinely confused, almost as much as you are, and you only realise the reason why when she asks you, “Isn’t Hansol the father? You guys have been dating for a long time and I can’t remember ever seeing you with anyone else while you’re on a break.” 

You wince, realising too late that you have yet to tell her the truth.

“Actually—we’re not on a break,” you slowly admit with a low voice. Months have gone by, and even though it no longer hurts whenever you start thinking about your failed relationship or to mention your ex’s name, you cannot help but still feel bitter about how it ended and you hate talking about it. 

That is the reason why you haven’t said anything about it to anyone. Maybe you were just too embarrassed. After all, it isn’t so easy to admit that you may have been the reason why the four-year relationship fell into pieces. 

“I lied,” you say with a burst of deep sigh, “It was over, done, finished—”

“So you already broke up?” she cuts you off with a calm voice. 

You bite your bottom lip as you slowly nod your head. “Yeah,” you whisper, suddenly feeling like your throat is tightening up. Not because you feel the sudden urge to cry. But only because this is all becoming too much to take at once.  

“And the baby?” she carefully asks you. “It wasn’t Han—” 

“The baby isn’t his,” you quickly answer before she even gets to question about it. 

It’s hard enough to hear his name being mentioned after a while. It feels harder to think that you might be carrying his baby. 

But the moment those words come out of your lips, reality finally sinks in. Grabbing the glass of your drink, you take a hefty drink out of it. You wish there was some alcohol in this thing. Maybe it would have helped you think more clearly. 

That’s right. It couldn’t have been his.

Sighing to yourself, you begin to do the math. “We’ve been broken up for months, so if the baby is his, I’m sure I would be showing already by this time around,” you say this while gently rubbing your palm over your stomach. 

Now that your suspicions have been confirmed, the gesture feels almost natural to you that your hand simply moves before you realise it, though it helps confirm that nothing much has changed with your body.

It feels odd to think that there is a life existing inside you, yet you cannot really see it with just one look. This convinces you further that the baby couldn’t have been conceived while you were still dating your ex. Looking back to it now, once you remember when exactly the sickness and craving started, it would only make sense that the baby was conceived on that specific night. 

“So—if Hansol isn’t the Dad, then who was it?” 

Biting your lip, you turn to look at Skye. Of course, if there is anyone in this world that you can talk to about this, it would only be her. Just like how she would come to you first whenever she is in a bind, whether it’s about her relationships, about work, or even the smallest things like having a bad day where you end up sharing a tub of ice cream to feel better. 

After all, she isn’t just a roommate, but also someone you have known the longest compared to the other friends you’ve made since moving into this city. You have known each other since college, since back in freshman year when both of you were nothing more but young kids from small towns being thrust into the big city. 

Being put together in the same dorm room led you to become fast friends. After years of enduring the same hardship in college, the two of you remained so close that you even moved to this city together and continued to live in the same place to keep each other company. 

You have gone through everything with her, and you have always been honest with each other. It should have been easy to tell her everything. If only you could find the right words to begin sharing your story. 

“I have no idea where to start.” 

“Well,” Skye patiently says while twirling the glass of wine she’s holding. You squint your eyes at her when you find it almost empty. So unfair. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?” 

“Right. From the beginning,” you say this with a nod. “Do you remember when I went away last month?” 

She nods. “Your secret getaway. Still jealous of that, by the way.” 

You give her a small smile. “Yeah, well—there’s a reason why I insisted on going alone on that trip. I actually planned it as a surprise vacation for me and Hansol. The original idea was for us to have a romantic getaway for our fourth anniversary.” 

Skye raises her eyebrows. “Well, damn,” she mutters. “Let me guess. You broke up before it happened?” 

You grimace as you recall what happened. “Close enough,” you answer with a bitter smile. “It was because of the trip that we got a huge fight in the first place.” 

Skye tilts her head. “I’m not following.” 

Sighing, you drink your smoothie to cool down and swallow the bitter feeling you are suddenly getting. Recounting the break-up isn’t so much fun to do. Not even after this long. 

“I planned the entire thing on my own. Booked the flight and the hotel, and rearranged our schedules to fit each other so we could go on that exact date. But I never shared anything with him, except to confirm that it was a place that he also dreamt of going so we could both enjoy it together.” You let out a defeated sigh. “I wanted it to be a surprise. He used to love those in the past, so I figured it could be fun to celebrate our anniversary this way and get away from all the stress both of us had been getting.” 

You stop talking for a moment to remember those days. Both you and Hansol had been so busy back then that you could barely spend time with each other. 

It was the exact routine every day. Having long hours in the office and since you weren’t living together, you could only keep in contact with each other through texts and calls. By the time the two of you were able to see each other, all the stress had been piling up that you were almost always arguing and fighting instead of making up for all the time you missed while being apart. 

“We were talking about moving in together but all of a sudden, we stopped discussing it and I could feel us growing further apart. I thought going away from all the stress for a while would help us get along and make up for all the fighting. Maybe we could have had a chance to talk things out and figure out what to fix.” 

You stop with a soft sigh. “We were getting bored. With work, with life, and maybe we did get bored with each other but neither of us could open up about it, much less admit it. Not even to ourselves.” 

Skye lets out a groan. “This is why I don’t do relationships,” she mutters before finishing her drink. The first glass. With the second one waiting on the table.

You give her a scoff, but smile at her comment before continuing, “He found out about the trip by chance. I was still logged in on his laptop after I borrowed it to check on my work email while I was staying over on the weekend. He accidentally opened the booking details when he was checking his email, thinking it was his account. He suspected me of planning to go with someone else, but even after I told him that the trip was for both of us, he wasn’t having it.” 

Skye leans forward when she hears this. “Wait, he’s pissed about a secret vacation?” she asks, looking unhappy and confused at the same time. You can’t really blame her. Because that is exactly how you feel about your ex’s reaction. “Why would he be? If it had been me, I would’ve been ecstatic about going.” 

“I wish I knew,” you groan, feeling just as frustrated as you had been then. “But he wasn’t just refusing to go. He started blaming me. Saying something about me holding him back or something. He said he had no time for a trip when he needed to be there and work for his promotion.” 

Thinking back to that day, remembering about the fight and the things you said to each other, you are reminded of the moment the fight left your body. Because you knew then that there was nothing left to fight over. 

“He never even brought up the fact that it was the date of our anniversary. I don’t think he even knew or remembered it,” you say with a bitter chuckle. “He broke it off, saying that he wanted to focus on his career and I would be keeping him behind. And I agreed because I knew that we’d wound up hurting each other if we’d stayed.” 

“I can understand that,” Skye gently says. The two of you share a sad smile when your eyes meet. “And you still went on that trip,” she guesses, sounding proud. She lifts her glass to you and says, “Good girl.” 

You merely shrug. “When I went to cancel the tickets for the trip, I thought it would be such a waste to throw everything away. So I decided that going solo would be a good idea and kept mine. Besides, I needed a moment to heal myself and get away from the city for a short while.” 

She laughs, agreeing with you. Then, just as she is about to say something, she suddenly stops. A knowing look comes across her gaze and she slowly gasps. “Don’t tell me—” she says, “You met someone while you were there.” 

You nod your head slowly and press your lips together. “Once again, you’re close. But that’s not exactly what happened.” Blowing out a deep breath, you slowly ask her, “Remember when I told you that I got held up for a day in transit?” 

“Yeah, I was so jealous of you that I still remember everything you told me about that trip,” she lets out a dreamy sigh, then her gaze snaps back at you. “But, it seems to me that you haven’t told me everything about the trip.” 

“No, I didn’t.” You grimace. “Anyway, that’s when I met him—” 

The memories return to you again as you share with your roommate about your encounter with the beautiful stranger. You remember vividly the way he spoke, the deep and gentle voice that he spoke to you with, and his captivating smile that made you swoon. Everything about him that made it hard for you to leave and say goodbye to him. 

You recount the way you enjoyed each other’s company that even after your terrible mood gradually became much better, and after you finished yet another drink, you simply couldn’t walk away and end the night with him so soon. You stayed longer, losing count of the time you spent with him and the drinks you had. 

“And then, one thing led to another, it just happened.” 

Skye’s eyes have grown so wide at this point, and her jaw has dropped in her surprise that she looks almost comical. “You hooked up with a stranger during your transit?” she asks you. The moment you nod your head, she switches her empty glass with the other. “I would drink to that.” 

You laugh just as she takes a hefty drink as if celebrating on your behalf. “Why do you sound so proud of me?” 

“Well,” she slowly starts, “We’ve known each other for so long. You have always been so put together, always followed the rules, and you are always so good at what you do. From school, to work, even the little things you have been doing on the side. But not when it comes to your sex life.” 

You know that she is right about everything. But it doesn’t stop you from picking up a cushion and hitting her with it. 

“Hey, you know I’m right,” she says while laughing and protecting the precious glass of wine. “Come on, you’ve never had any casual relationships or random hookups, and every chance I could have gotten to hook you up with my guy friends was gone when Hansol came into the picture.” 

Pouting, you pull the cushion back and hold it tightly in your arms. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you admit with a sigh. “How do you get to know me so well?” 

“That’s because I love you enough to pay attention,” she smugly says while waving her glass around, sloshing the wine everywhere. “Why do you think I’ve been so protective of you over the years?” 

You roll your eyes and hit her with the cushion one last time, making her laugh, even though she is right. For as long as you have been friends with her, she has always been like an older sister to you. Not only for coming hard like a shield against the guys you ever introduced her to but also for the trivial things that not many people would pay much attention to. 

Like reminding you to eat properly when you are stressed out or too busy with work and school. 

You feel bad for relying on her so much over the years. But you also feel grateful about it. Just like how you’re feeling right now once you notice that you’re no longer feeling as stressed as you had earlier once you’re done dumping everything to her. 

Skye’s eyes turn back to you, landing on your covered belly as she curiously asks, “Are you positively sure that Hansol wasn’t the father?” 

You slowly nod your head. As much as you wish that you were wrong, you couldn’t have been mistaken about this.

“What are the odds that it was a false positive?” you suddenly question her, while she shrugs. 

“It’s possible,” she says. “But we can get some more test kits and redo the test. Just in case. Or you could make an appointment with the doctor straight away to make sure.” 

“Right, the doctor—” You let out a soft sigh and close your eyes briefly. It has been a while since you’ve seen your physician. The last time was before—

Oh, shit. 

Your eyes snap open right then. How long ago has it been since you’ve gone to see your physician? The last time was when you went to your regular appointment for your birth control. But that felt so long ago. 

Long before the trip. 

After that appointment, and once the break-up happened, you simply threw yourself into work so much you completely forgot about everything else. And since you were newly single, getting your birth control was the last thing you had in mind at the time. 

Fuck me, you inwardly groan without saying a thing to your roommate who is busy chattering about the doctor, making appointments, and offering to take you there herself. You know that she would lecture you about safe sex like a mother hen if you ever share this with her.

But wait…he wore a condom, right? Yes, you are quite sure he did. The details are blurry when you try to remember, but you do remember protection being involved. 

Groaning to yourself, you fall back on the sofa. Your head starts spinning again when you start worrying about other things. Once you start thinking of a problem that you may have to face, another one comes to mind. 

“What am I supposed to do with this baby?”  

Skye once again raises her eyebrows at you. “I think the right question should be what do you want to do?” she asks, while you can only shake your head.

“I don’t know,” you answer with a small voice. The only thing you can think of right now is how you are going to get through this holiday while being pregnant. You are supposed to be home for Christmas in two weeks, and knowing just how crazy your family truly is, you cannot imagine how they would react if they found out you are with a child. 

You close your eyes and let out a sigh. “And my family still have no idea that I broke up with Han.” 

“For once, I’m not jealous of your life,” Skye says as she sips her wine. But she is ready for it when you fling the cushion back at her and avoid it without spilling her drink. “Don’t worry. I think they’ll catch on about your failed relationship as soon as you walk into your family home without that hunk by your side.” 

Huffing, you hug the cushion in your arms and lean back. “I guess if they’re going to find out either way, I might as well just tell them the moment I got home.” 

Besides, it might be even harder to hide the fact that you are pregnant. You might not be showing yet, but there is no possible way you could avoid the questions that may come if you are still feeling so sick right in front of your family, or if your cravings suddenly get out of hand. 

Especially if Honey is there. Despite the early signs of dementia showing on her lately, your grandmother has always been so perceptive. And there is no telling what random things she may blurt out once she has some rum in her system. 

With so many different things to think about, you almost forget one important matter that you should be thinking about when it comes to the baby. And just like always, Skye is there to remind you of it. 

“Do you remember his name?” 

You turn to Skye with wide eyes, suddenly panicking inside. You can tell that she can see it on your face and is now sharing the same feeling when she suddenly knocks back the rest of her wine and groans, “Fuck, I’m gonna need more.” 

You watch her pour more wine into her glass, hastily drinking it right after, before turning to you again. “You didn’t get his name? At least tell me that you got his number before you went separate ways.”

You bite your lips. ��It’s Tae.” 

“Tae—what?” 

You shake your head. “That’s it,” you let out a frustrated sigh. “That was the only name he ever gave me.” 

“Seriously?” 

Skye is freaking out, you can tell. But you close your eyes and rest your head back, shutting everything down as she starts ranting about how she was supposed to teach you better about hooking up with strangers and keeping yourself safe. 

With her voice turning into white noise at the back of your mind, your memories return to you, taking you back to the eventful night. 

You can almost feel yourself being back there again—back in the cold hotel bar with the scent of old wood and liquor lingering in the air; the murmuring sounds of people chatting and laughing, accompanied by the sound of glasses clinking together resonating through the space around you; back to his presence that felt so strong and intense you could barely feel anything else other than him as long as you had your attention fully on him.

“What’s your name?” You remember him asking you with his voice that grew more gentle and deeper the more he drank. 

You leaned into him and giggled in response as if he just said something funny to you. “Does it really matter?” 

His soft chuckle rumbled around you. The voice was so soft, yet you could hear it clearly because of how close you were leaning into him. “I’m sure I remember being taught not to talk to strangers.” 

“Are you telling me that you’ve been a good boy for listening to what your Mom taught you?” you teased him. It was obvious how tipsy you were at this point, which may have been the reason why you were growing more confident. 

“Oh, I’ve always been a good boy,” he answered you while looking amused. He went silent right after. His gaze seemed far away just for a fleeting moment before he finally said, “My name is Tae.” 

“Tae? That’s it?” you asked, “Is that a codename or something?” You feigned a surprise gasp before you leaned into him further to whisper, “Are you secretly a spy?” 

You felt his chest rumbling when he softly laughed. “Something like that, yeah,” he said, as he played along with your joke. 

But the moment you leaned away from him, you were surprised when you got to see something in him that you couldn’t see before. His guard was down, allowing you to see the vulnerability that was buried deep under his suave and smooth talking. 

For a brief moment, he looked broken. Just like you did. 

And from the way he was hiding himself, not only under the short nickname but also from the way he was masking his emotions, you could tell that he was looking for an escape from reality. The same way you did that night. 

So you simply smiled at him, choosing not to pry further to see beyond the mask and play along. Because at the same time, you wanted to hide your broken heart and become someone else to be able to forget everything. Just for one night. 

“Then you can call me Red. It’s my special codename for tonight.” 

His grin widened. You could almost see the relief washing over him through his warm gaze when he looked at you.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you tonight,” he said, still with his gentle voice that almost felt like sin licking on your skin when he called you, “Red.” 

Two weeks later…

“Here you go,” your mother’s voice snaps you from whatever stupor you have been stuck in. When you open your eyes, a glass of ginger tea has manifested right before you. 

“Drink this,” your Mom says as she points at the drink. “It should be good for your stomach.” 

Your breath gets caught in your throat. Furrowing your brows, you keep your eyes on the drink instead of reaching for it. Thoughts of those past mornings when you and Skye spent searching through the internet to find a way to get rid of your morning sickness come through your mind. 

Does she know? Did she figure it out already? Is it really that obvious? 

You clench your hands and resist the urge to rub against your stomach. It has become a habit of yours to rub around your belly as if trying to feel the baby that is hiding inside whenever you feel agitated.

After getting the positive results through the home test kits, you had gone straight to the doctor only days before you left the city to have it checked, confirming that a baby is growing inside you. It still feels unbelievable to think about it, even after you saw it yourself with your own eyes. 

“It’s still really early, and we might not be seeing much yet, but that’s your baby,” the doctor’s voice echoes through your mind as you tighten your clenched hands, thinking back to the day you went to have an ultrasound and saw for the first time the growing fetus that was said to be viable to grow fully as a baby. 

Just like how the baby inside you has been nothing more than a blob of mass floating inside your stomach in your mind, your belly itself has yet to change shape. Even if your full awareness of the baby’s presence has only been causing you to find small changes in your body that nobody else might be able to see. 

But Mom has been pregnant before, so wouldn’t she be able to see it? Will that be possible?

“Ginger tea is good for nausea and will give you some energy boost. Your grandma always made it for me whenever I had a stomach ache. I’m sure it’ll help get rid of your nausea and your upset stomach will turn better in no time.” Your Mom stops talking and sighs. “You should’ve told me that you were sick. I wouldn’t have let you drive all the way home if I had known.” 

Ah. 

You breathe a sigh of relief. You should be thankful that she believed you when you told her about having an upset stomach from the long drive home from the city. It was the only thing that you could think of as an excuse when your Mom wondered why you hadn’t been eating well since you got back home and why you were feeling sick.

It makes you wonder why you have been feeling unwell since you got home. Just when you had purposely waited until you were well enough and had stopped throwing up when you planned for the drive. 

It’s almost as if the baby is deliberately making you sick to let everyone know about your secret.

“Thanks, Mom,” you say to your Mom as you reach for the tea, hiding your relieved sigh as you gingerly drink in small sips. 

You have lost count of how many times Skye has made you this drink specifically to stop you from vomiting in the morning before going to work. It has been helping a lot to ease your ‘sickness’, and you are feeling it calming your stomach already as the drink warms your body. 

You can feel your mother’s eyes on you, making you feel uneasy to be under her watchful gaze. “I think it might be better if you get some rest and take things easy. But are you sure you’re okay?” your Mom asks again, still worrying about you. 

You continue drinking the ginger tea slowly while pressing down your guilt. You hate lying to your Mom the most, and now you are starting to regret driving home on your own. If the baby hadn’t been the one responsible for your current sickness, then perhaps driving the long distance has been the reason why your nausea is now coming back with a vengeance.

So much for trying to not draw any suspicions. 

“I’m fine, Mom. Really,” you sigh as you place the glass down. “The tea is helping me already. I’ll feel better soon, I promise.” 

Your Mom says nothing for a moment, but the crease you see forming on her forehead says differently. “I’m not just talking about you being sick. Maybe there’s another reason why you’re feeling faint?” 

You look up at her just then. The moment you catch the pitiful look she is giving you, you finally understand what she is trying to say. 

Just as Skye predicted, it didn’t take long for your family to take notice of your solo arrival. In the past, Hansol would have joined you to visit your family for a day or two during the holidays before he would return to his family on Christmas day. So his absence was quite obvious from the get-go. 

And with the big lie that you have to hide from everyone at home, you had to at least give them one honest truth the moment they started asking. 

“We ended things a few months ago,” you admitted to your family during the first dinner you had since you got home. By that time, you had already tried to avoid the questions for long enough. Nobody has brought up about it again since then. 

Until now. 

“If you’re talking about the breakup, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m okay, Mom. It’s been months since it happened. I’ve been trying to move on.” 

In fact, you haven’t been thinking about your ex at all for a long time. Not until you brought it up to Skye and then again when your family started questioning. The only thing you have been worrying about lately is the baby growing inside you and finding a way to search for the father of the baby. 

It was the one thing that you talked about with Skye before you left. While you are capable enough to raise the baby on your own, you decided it would be the best course of action to contact the father and let him know.

In Skye’s own words, “Just in case.” 

Just in case the father would care enough to know that he has a son or a daughter coming into this world and wants to be in their life. 

“But if we fail to find him or he wants nothing to do with the baby, then we’ll deal with it on our own. You just got your promotion, I got my good pay. We can raise the baby together. You and me, just like old times.”

Skye’s words put a smile on your face. She always knows how to lift your spirit up whenever you feel like giving up, and those exact words have helped boost your confidence and made you believe that you could get through this. 

But first, you just need to get through spending this holiday with your family. 

“I know you said that. But as your Mom, I can’t help but worry. I thought you were serious and we’ll be hearing some good news about you getting married this year.” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Sorry, Mom,” you tease her with a bitter chuckle. You don’t bother to mention that the two of you had never once talked about marriage throughout your relationship.

Yet another sign that you overlooked. At least you never got to waste anymore time with him.

“Things just didn’t work out between us. It happens when a couple grow into two different people in the course of their relationship. Which was exactly what happened to us. Hansol wanted to focus on his career, in return, I also got the chance to focus on mine.” 

Just as you said the words, you realise that this is true for your case. 

Hansol has always been career-driven, and it has been growing stronger lately for him with the constant rise he was experiencing in his current company. And breaking up with your long-time boyfriend has allowed you to turn your focus on your job. The recent promotion you gained was a testament to your hard work to show you that there might be a silver lining to everything that has happened. 

“I suppose you’re right,” your Mom says with a smile. You are beginning to feel a bit relieved that she seems to understand. You are hoping that she would start talking about something else when she adds, “I just feel sad that it didn’t work out for you. And we were all expecting to have Hansol joining us again this year. I guess it’s too late now to let your sister know about this since she’s supposed to arrive today.” 

Stepsister. 

You lift your glass and slowly drink your tea to stop yourself from correcting her. For some reason, you feel a bit bitter having your mother mention her all so suddenly. 

It isn’t that you hate your stepsister. It’s hard to feel something so extreme when you barely had any relationship with her at all. Back when you were younger, your mother did try to get you two to get along and be friends. 

To make her happy, you tried your best to act friendly, or at least to be cordial whenever she was around, even when the only thing she showed you over the years had been nothing but contempt. 

But things changed after a drunken fit that she had last holiday season, when she got drunk and tried to make a move and openly flirted with your then-boyfriend. Even if nothing ever came out of it except for her own embarrassment, as Hansol openly rejected her and stayed away from her for the remaining time he was here, the incident still left a bad taste that made you feel bitter. 

That was when you finally decided that you would stop trying to be nice.

You put down the glass and try to remain calm. What’s done is done. All you have to do is focus on getting through this holiday before going back to the city and start with your mission to search for the baby’s father.

“What does Alia have to do with my break up?” you ask your mother, hoping that she wouldn’t bring up the drama from last year. 

“Oh, it’s nothing serious, really,” your Mom answers with a soft chuckle, “It’s just that Alia called home sometime last week, asking if she could bring someone over this Christmas. She said that she’s been seeing someone new and since she was bringing him to meet her mother, she wondered if it would be okay if she could bring him along to meet us too.” 

Your Mom sighs, looking a bit guilty when she adds, “We figured since you might bring Hansol with you, it would be okay if she has her new boyfriend along. Maybe the guys could get along and spend time together while you and Alia catch up.” 

You try to imagine you and Alia catching up like old friends or—just like what your Mom has been wishing you to be—as sisters, and you almost shake your head. 

Yeah, that seems unlikely, you bitterly wonder to yourself, yet you don’t have the heart to tell your mother that there is not much hope for you and Alia to be good friends. 

“I guess it’s a shame that Hansol isn’t here,” you simply say to your mother while you inwardly wonder just what your stepsister is really up to this year. 

“Yeah, it’s unfortunate,” your mother says with a sigh. “But I’m glad that at least both of you girls can make it home this year.” 

“Me too, Mom,” you force a smile, silently hoping that you can start talking about something else. Something that doesn’t concern your bitter stepsister coming home or bringing up any dark thoughts about your ex. “So, what are we having for dinner? Want my help in the kitchen?” 

Your question immediately puts everything into motion, drifting her attention away from your sappy story and the false hope of sisterhood that may never happen between you and your stepsister. Your Mom tries to stop you from helping out in the kitchen at first but finally gives in when you keep insisting. 

At least, this way, you can keep your mind busy enough to stop it from thinking about unnecessary thoughts the way it often does when you are alone. 

Things seem to be going on well enough at first, until your sickness returns and you have to give up trying. 

”See, I told you that you should be resting until you feel better,” your mother complains as she watches you bending over, keeping away from the stove and what is currently cooking on top of it which seems to be making you feel dizzy and sick. 

After garlic, lemon-scented air freshener, and coconut milk, seems you are going to have to add raw chicken to the list of things that may trigger your nausea.

“But then I’ll be bored like hell,” you argue, “I’m fine, Mom. Just let me take a quick break for a minute.” 

Your mother looks as if she wants to say something, but the sound of a car coming into the driveway interrupts her. Both of you turn to look out towards the living room, just in time to see your stepfather, Cliff, turning in the corner of the hall and rushing towards the front door. 

“Honey, they’re here!” he calls out, and you urge your mother to join him. 

“Go, Mom. I’ll finish things up and make sure nothing gets burned before I join you guys.”

Once your mother is out of the kitchen, you can no longer resist pressing your palm on your stomach. 

“Seriously, baby,” you whisper to the non-existent bump under your sweater, “Please take it easy, will you? I’m really struggling here, and you’re not making things easy for me. Trust me, it would be too soon for everyone to find out about you. At least wait until we can find a clue about your Dad, okay?” 

As if the baby inside you is listening, even if it is still barely full-grown at this point, your body grows calmer and the nausea slowly wanes. 

“Thank you, baby,” you whisper to your stomach once again before finally focusing on the stove and the oven, deliberately taking your time with what you do just so you can have a reason not to join the dramatic reunion happening right this minute. 

From this side of the kitchen, the front door isn’t completely visible. But you can hear everything as the door opens and your stepfather joyfully welcomes his daughter. 

Hearing his voice makes you smile. You may have had a tumultuous relationship with your stepsister, but the same cannot be said with your stepfather. Cliff has always been a great role model, and your relationship with him has always been great from the start. 

It makes you feel guilty when you think about the previous encounters where you and your stepsister simply gave each other cold shoulders or when you were met with altercations just because of how different the two of you are. But there is no helping it. Nothing has changed over the years no matter how hard you tried. Not even once you have become adults. 

You can’t even remember how it first started. And frankly, you no longer care. Last year’s incident was already enough to let you know that the sisterhood that your parents have been forcing you into was beyond saving. 

The voices coming from the front door continue for a moment longer. This time, you get to hear your mother’s voice joining in the conversation and Alia’s soft voice answering her questions. You make no effort to listen to what they are saying and tune out their voices, until your mother’s voice calls out to you. 

“______, your sister is here. Come and say hi.” 

Your mother’s words make you stop. Slowly, you turn down the heat on the stove and turn to make your way towards the front door to join the family reunion. 

“It’s stepsister,” you mutter under your breath as you drag your feet, taking your sweet time while you try to compose yourself before having to face the unwanted guests. 

As you turn around the corner, merely moments before the front door finally comes into view, you get to hear another voice speaking. The voice that you couldn’t clearly hear from the kitchen while you were tuning their conversation out. 

“I’m sorry for intruding. But thank you for having me here.” 

That voice. 

You immediately come to a halt. An uneasy feeling runs through your body when you realise that you recognise this voice and have grown to know it quite well. 

There is no mistaking it. You may not have gotten his full name on the night you met, and his face has somewhat become a faint mirage in your dreams at night whenever you are taken back to the night of your hookup.

But you cannot say the same about his voice. 

That deep and gentle voice will always be engraved in your memory. Even now, the only thing you would need to do is close your eyes and listen, and allow the voice to take you back to that specific night once more, where he used this voice to say sinful words that you could feel caressing your fragile heart while he was bringing you to the peak of pleasure.

And now you are hearing that voice here, at your home, idly chatting with your mother by the front door. 

“_______, are you coming?” your mother calls again, and you know that there is no avoiding it. You have to face reality, even if that means you must come face to face with the man who is responsible for placing you in this situation.

Tamping down the rush of nerves going through your body, you slowly march ahead. Bracing yourself as you turn around the corner and enter the living room where everyone is currently gathering in.

Your eyes fall on your stepsister first. 

Alia has always looked so vibrant and beautiful, drawing all kinds of attention from everyone in the room whenever she is present. Yet when you look at her now, there seems to be a new kind of light emerging from her. Even her smile seems brighter as she chats along with your stepfather.  

And you soon realise the reason why she is shining brightly today as you turn your gaze to look at the person standing beside her. To finally see him. 

He looks just like how you remember him. Tall and lean, with his arms and chest filling up his sweater. He has his hair falling over a part of his face, just enough of a mess that seems as if he has been running his fingers through the wavy strands. As he converses with your mother, he shows his boxy grin that seems familiar to your eyes. 

Too familiar. 

Because it looks just the same as the wide grin that was teasing and flirting with you on one eventful night at the transit hotel weeks ago. 

No. That can’t be.

The baby’s daddy is here. The man who you were planning to look for once you return to the city. 

He is here, today, appearing at the front door of your parents’ home together with your stepsister. His long fingers that had once entangled between the strands of your hair are now entwined with your stepsister’s dainty fingers. And there is no mistaking the matching couple rings that are glowing under the sunlight coming from their entwined hands. 

Before you get the chance to process what is happening, you hear him introducing himself to your stepfather, “It’s good to see you, Sir. My name is Taehyung.” 

No. 

You stifle a gasp. It feels like you have been sucker-punched right in the chest that you can barely breathe. 

Taehyung, you wonder. Tae? 

All of a sudden, you feel as if the ground beneath your feet is tilting over, slowly taking you down with it. And since you seem to have lost the ability to move your feet, the only thing you can do to stop yourself from falling is to clench your hands tightly by your side. Tight enough to feel pain as your nails are sinking into your palms, convincing you that this is not a dream. 

Yet you are still in denial as you watch the interaction happening right before your eyes. Because there is no way this is happening. There is no possible way that it is truly him. 

Please. Please don’t let it be him. 

It must have been your mind playing tricks on you. Because there is no way that he is here. Not as your stepsister’s new boyfriend. 

This must be a mistake. Yes, you are probably confused and all the thoughts of finding your baby daddy are messing up with your head, forcing you to believe that your stepsister’s new boyfriend is your mysterious baby daddy. The fact that they have the same name must have been pure coincidence. 

For once in your life, you don’t want to be right. You have to be wrong. 

Please tell me that it’s not him. 

Just then, as if life was listening to your prayers, as if life has yet to have enough of its games to play around with your heart, the man turns his gaze away from your parents. And those pretty eyes land on you. 

As if there is a switch turned, the brightness in his gaze fades. His beautiful eyes are filled with recognition. It is so subtle that you are quite sure that nobody else around you notices it, but it is enough to let you know that your memories have been right all along. 

Because those are the same eyes that you saw looking back at you with pure lust and sin while he was bringing you wanton pleasure, when you made love as if both of you had been under a spell, right on the very night that may have changed your fate forever. 

Fuck. 

Me.

At one glance, this moment would seem like any other pre-holiday family dinner. It may seem picture perfect, even—if you had been a stranger looking in. 

There are still a couple of days left until Christmas Day, yet the festive mood has already filled the room. From the living room, all the way to the dining room, Christmas decorations are already plastered across the walls and hung from the ceiling. On the dining table, the delectable meal that your mother worked hard to prepare—with your poor assistance—had been perfectly laid out. 

With Alia’s arrival today, the immediate family is now complete. Ever the charming daughter, Alia takes up the attention of everyone around her as she shares her story—about how she has been travelling between different states and some neighbouring countries, changing jobs, finding new hobbies, and even planning to adopt a new pet. 

Sitting at the head of the table, your stepfather is soaking it all in, enjoying the time he has with his daughter whom he rarely gets to see throughout the year. Your mother sits on his right, getting the front seat of their merry reunion. She would sometimes chime in, never failing to try to get you into joining their idle chat even when you are not feeling up to it. 

Other times, you would have been able to easily play along. From making cordial comments and joining with all the light jokes shared by your family, or feigning interest in anything that Alia might be sharing at the table—even when she rarely would share the same courtesy when you did the same. 

Tonight, however, it feels like a struggle for you to focus on the conversation shared at the table, let alone pretend to be interested. Not when you are busy trying your best to calm your nerves. 

You can't even embrace the same warm atmosphere that everyone seems to be sharing. 

For you, the air around feels stifling and tense. It has been this way ever since you sat down right next to your mother for dinner. Because due to the seating arrangement, the special guest of the night is now sitting right across from you at the table. 

Taehyung. 

The last person that you had ever expected to see. Not here. Certainly not at your home or sharing the same space with your parents. 

It seems surreal to meet him here like this. Even more so when he was introduced to your family as Alia’s new boyfriend.

Judging from the way he reacted when he first saw you, you can tell that he never expected something like this could ever happen. You know that he has questions, perhaps just as much as you do, yet the situation that you found yourself in right now isn’t allowing you to even show any sign that the two of you know each other or to have met before today. 

But there is something in the way he is looking at you that doesn’t sit right with you. Aside from the lingering shock you see each time your eyes accidentally meet each other, there is a look that shows a semblance of guilt, despair, and at the same time, filled with wonder. 

Was it because he never expected to see you again after that night, much less to find out that you are somehow related to the woman that he is dating? Or was there something else going through his mind? 

“This is Alia’s sister, ______,” was what your mother said when she first introduced you to him. At that point, you and Taehyung were stunned to silence, and for a brief moment, neither of you reacted. 

Thinking about it now, you can’t even remember how you managed to join your family in the living room. The moment you saw Taehyung standing there, your legs nearly gave out. It was a wonder how you managed to stop yourself from falling or tripping as you walked over to them in a state of distraught. 

“Hi, it’s good to see you,” was all that you managed to croak out of once you snapped out of it. You didn’t even give him a chance to respond when you suddenly turned your attention to your stepsister, forcing a smile on your face when you greeted her, “Hey, Alia. It’s good to see you. You seem well.” 

You can’t even remember the expression that Alia gave you when she responded to you, “Uh yeah, thanks. You too.” 

“Right. Well, I’ll let you guys settle in. I left the stove on, so—” 

That was the last thing you said before you turned away and quickly left the room, practically running away from him to hide back in the kitchen. The last thing you heard as you walked away was your mother’s voice saying something about you being her assistant of the day in the kitchen while you were feeling unwell, as if excusing you for your unmannerly attitude. 

By the time you got back in the kitchen, your hands were shaking, your heartbeat was racing so fast you could barely breathe. It took a long time for the shock to wane, and you had spent the rest of the day staying away from both of them, avoiding him entirely until you were finally called to join dinner. 

And you are still avoiding him even now, keeping your head down as much as you can and resisting the urge to look his way. As if it isn’t hard enough for you to have him sitting right in front of you, you can feel the heat of his gaze constantly following you whenever you are not looking.

He doesn’t make it so obvious, and it doesn’t seem like anyone else has noticed it yet. Perhaps you are just too hyperaware of his presence that you caught on to it so easily.

You sneak a glance at your stepsister, wondering if Alia has taken notice of her boyfriend’s wandering gaze or where he has been directing his eyes. It takes you watching the conversation between her and your parents more closely to see it. 

Because it turns out that she also has her own gaze wandering to questionable places at the same time that she isn’t paying much attention to her boyfriend. 

Each time Alia turns to regard your mother or speak to her, her gaze flickers away briefly, ever so subtly landing on the seat to your right. At the seat that Hansol would usually occupy whenever he joined you during these holiday visits. 

It is easy to catch it when you are seeing it from your angle. And it is easy to guess what is going through her head when she keeps doing it with a curious look written all over her face. An unspoken question seems to linger, while the incident from last year keeps flashing through your head when you picture Hansol being present beside you. 

Even if nobody notices her intention, you doubt that anyone would question her about it, seeing that the seat that was supposed to be left empty has been taken by someone else. 

While you are busy trying to make sense out of everything, your grandmother makes a disapproval noise with her tongue, grabbing your attention. “Are you still feeling under the weather? You’ve been drinking that boring thing the whole day,” she says, referring to the glass of iced tea that you have just put down after taking a drink from it to cool down. 

You turn to look at your dear grandmother, Honey, and smile at her. She probably hasn’t realised what a saving grace she has been for taking the unoccupied seat to your right the minute she came in for dinner. 

And she is now helping you again by drawing your attention away from the source of your dismay. Immediately, you feel better the moment you are met with Honey’s smile. 

“I’m feeling much better, actually. I’m just being careful not to drink anything that might get me sick,” you answer carefully, hoping to sound reasonable enough without making anyone question your ‘sickness’ any further. 

The more you lie to your family about it, the more guilty you feel. You don’t have much choice at the moment but to hide it just a bit longer. 

At first, you couldn’t share the news with your parents simply because you were still clueless about how you were going to find the father of the baby with only limited information you had of him. But then things only got even more complicated for you to ever come clean when he walked through the front door of your parents’ home. 

What are the odds that the man you hooked up with turns out to be the man your stepsister is currently dating? And here you are now, stuck in the same room with them while hiding a secret which may change the course of everyone’s entire life.

Yeah, miracles don’t exist. Not for me, at least.

Honey taps at your hand on the table as you grow silent, oblivious to the thoughts running through your head. “You know what you need?” she asks, whispering in a conspiring tone that she barely keeps down so that everyone at the table can still hear her voice. 

And she does it while looking at you with her wide, expecting eyes, with the barely concealed mischief written all over her face. It makes you smile, knowing where this is going. So you simply play along. 

"No, Honey. What would that be?” 

Her mischievous smile widens as she leans closer. “A hint of rum. With a few drops into that boring tea of yours, you’ll feel better in no time,” she says, lifting her hand and showing you a pinching gesture with her thumb and forefinger nearly touching each other, “Just a pinch. Or better yet, just trade your whole glass—” 

The sound of your Mom’s frustrated sigh cuts her off. “Mom, I already told you, giving her alcohol isn’t going to make her feel better. I’ve already given her some herbal tea, that should be enough until she can get a proper rest.”

“Oh, posh,” Honey says, waving her hand at your mother. “Ignore your Mom,” Honey says just as you are about to respond. “I’m telling you. Alcohol is best to cure your heartbreak,” she adds, and you certainly have no arguments against that. Alcohol might be able to help you forget. 

But, alas…

But, wait a minute. You stop and look closely at Honey. What is she talking about? 

“What do you mean?” you question her while tilting your head, wondering deep down if she had noticed something. Surely, she wouldn’t be able to tell the high tension rolling between you and Taehyung through dinner. 

Nobody else could. But you also know that if there is anyone in your family who might be able to catch on with the tension rolling between the two of you, it would be Honey. 

Once again, Honey reaches out and taps her dainty fingers on the back of your hand. “Isn’t that why you’re feeling down, peaches? I know you’re still thinking about that good for nothing—” 

Honey stops herself and bites down her smile before you can figure out what she is about to say. But you have heard enough to understand who she is referring to. 

Relief washes over you when you realise that she was talking about your ex, Hansol. She must have thought that you have been stressing over the breakup and you have been feeling unwell because of it.

Honey leans in, this time lowering her voice just enough only for you to hear. “You must’ve taken it from me. I also get a stomach bug when I’m stressed out. Just like last summer when I lost a go-stop game against the ladies from the block,” she says, before she continues blabbering about how she had made bets during the game and went all-in only to lose everything. 

“You might think that they’re nothing but small pennies used for gambling coins, but I spent a whole week collecting them. How am I supposed to replace all of them before the next game?” she continues to complain, while you laugh at her. 

Her story takes away the tension on your shoulders for a brief moment before she adds, “And then you had to come here and watch these two being all lovey-dovey with each other.” 

As Honey mentions the pair sitting across the table, waving her hand at them to make a point, your eyes are drawn towards them once more. And your gaze lands right on Alia’s hand which is now resting on top of Taehyung’s. 

Seeing this makes you feel tight in the chest. Bitterness fills your mouth which you can barely hide with a tight smile. Honey may not have been entirely correct with her assumptions, yet her comment still hits the mark somehow. 

Not about Hansol, obviously, as he is the one to occupy your mind the least. Yet she wasn’t too far off when she talked about the new pair of lovers before you. Seeing them does make you uncomfortable, miserable even, but for entirely different reasons. 

Looking away from their joined hands, your gaze meets Alia’s. She is wearing an unreadable expression on her face as she listens in to Honey’s words. And the strange look that she is giving you now is making you feel uneasy.

Just as you start wondering if Alia has noticed something, she instead asks you, “You guys broke up?” 

She throws a quick glance at Honey’s seat with a frown. For others, she might seem concerned, yet there is a look in her eyes which tells you that there is something more. “I was wondering why I haven’t seen him around. He was with us last holiday.” 

Her comment rubs you in the wrong way. You have no idea why she would care when your relationship has nothing to do with her. But you try to not let it bother you. “Yes, it’s been months now since we broke up. I only told Mom and Dad yesterday when I first got home.” 

“I see,” she says. Her voice comes out so softly that it almost comes out as a murmur. She pulls her hand back and places it on her lap. “That’s too bad. I��m sorry,” she adds while offering a small smile. And for some reason, she also seems guilty. 

Does she think it has something to do with what happened last year? 

Her words remind you of something that she said to you last year, back on the morning you confronted her after her drunken blunder which happened the night before. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t mean anything, I swear. It’s just drunk talking.” 

That incident shouldn’t be bothering you today. Yet it still makes you feel bitter when you think about it. The feeling only grows worse when you glance at Taehyung who is showing a sudden interest in this whole thing. 

“It’s fine. Sometimes things just don’t work out,” you simply repeat the same thing you said to your mother earlier while biting back the real question that is hanging right at the tip of your tongue. 

But what’s in it to you? 

No matter how curious you are to know what kind of scheme that is going through her pretty little head, you know it’s not worth all the drama that it might cause. You cannot even possibly imagine the drama that would unfold once this whole baby thing comes out.

God, just thinking about it is already making your stomach churn. Your lower abdomen suddenly feels hard and heavy. As if you have a full-size lead inside instead of a small, growing blob that is about to form into an actual living baby within a few weeks from now. 

Thinking about the baby, your eyes find the man who is behind all of this. He has grown oddly quiet while you were conversing with your stepsister and is now staring at his food with a frown on his face.

“So tell me,” you ask calmly while clenching your hands, doing your best to hide the trembles, “How did you two meet?”

This question immediately draws Taehyung’s attention. His eyes snap up, but the moment he looks at you, his face seems to grow pale and he becomes awfully nervous.

“We, uh—we used to work at the same company before Alia left to venture into other things,” he says, almost stuttering. He also keeps stealing glances at Alia, as if begging her to help him out. 

Huh, strange.

What is it about answering your simple question which makes him so nervous? 

Or perhaps…

Have they been seeing each other when the two of you hooked up? 

Fuck. 

The moment this thought crosses your mind, you suddenly feel sick. Your stomach grows heavier with anxiety. Meanwhile, Alia’s smile seems to beam brighter. 

“We didn’t work in the same division back then, but we would frequently meet during breaks and company hours. Had it been, what, a year after we last met?” Alia turns to Taehyung, who stiffly nods his head. She grabs his hand once again and looks at him lovingly as she continues, “We met again last summer by chance while I was travelling and started talking since then.” 

Last summer? But that was before—

Your head starts spinning. You grab your glass and take a couple of small sips of your tea to regain composure, yet the drink suddenly tastes bitter on your tongue. 

Honey’s voice barely registers in your brain when she responds with a hum. “Travelling in the summer? That sounds like a charming way to meet a new lover,” she says, lifting her mug to her lips as she continues marvelling at your stepsister’s story. “You must have felt some sparks when you two met. I bet you’re still feeling it now, aren’t you?”

You have no idea what she has inside that ceramic mug, as she had been nursing the same drink since even before dinner started. You can bet money that she had more than a pinch of rum dropped inside that drink of hers, seeing how talkative she is becoming. 

Oh, how you wish you could have a taste of it. Just a sip would have been good enough. Maybe it can also help to stop your hands from trembling. 

“And the ring?” Honey asks again with a teasing tone as she points at their entwined hands. “I noticed that you two are wearing matching rings. You can’t possibly be engaged already, can you?” 

Almost choking on your drink, you slowly set your glass back down and pull your hands onto your lap, hiding them from prying eyes just in time as they begin to shake.

“But it wasn’t that different back in the day,” Honey continues, “I remember that Russ—that’s my dear late husband,” she explains to Taehyung, “he bought me a cheap ring at the beginning of our relationship to show me and my parents that he was serious about courting me.” 

On any other times that Honey would speak about your late grandfather, you would always enjoy listening to every word, admiring how she would always share her story with pure love in her voice and wonder glowing in her eyes. 

But not this time. 

Ever since she pointed out the ring and started talking about your grandfather’s old promises, you start having trouble breathing. The more she speaks, the worse it gets, and now there is a ringing sound echoing in your ear that seems to be coming from different directions. 

“I still keep the ring with me, side by side with the wedding ring that doesn’t fit anymore on these wrinkly fingers of mine,” Honey keeps gushing. She raises her hands and starts wiggling her fingers to show them off, while your whole body grows tense. 

Alia shares a nervous laugh with Taehyung and waves her hand at Honey. “Oh, no…it’s actually a part of a joke that we—” 

You try to tune out the voices, the words that are being said, while clasping your hands tighter together on your lap, but the shaking doesn’t stop. Alia’s voice fades in and out beyond the loud ringing in your head as she continues to tell her story about how they started dating and the ring came to be. With everything that is going on, added with your awareness over Taehyung’s intense gaze that doesn’t seem to waver, it becomes too overwhelming that you feel as if you are slowly being swallowed into the ground beneath you. 

With a sharp gasp, you slowly push yourself out of your seat. “Excuse me, I have to—” your voice cracks as you speak. As you stand, you notice that everyone has their eyes on you, all curious to know what is happening with you. 

“_______?” you hear your mother calling you.

You can feel the blood draining from your face under all the unwanted attention, making you wish that you could just fade away right at that moment. But then your hand find its way to your stomach, and it almost feels like there is a touch of warmth forming under your palm. It helps you force a smile and gather yourself just enough to say, “I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling well, so I’m going to step out early. I hope that’s alright. You guys enjoy the rest of dinner.” 

You don’t wait for anyone’s response as you turn away, finding your escape merely moments before you get into a full-blown meltdown right in front of everyone. 

Your legs are wobbly as you walk down the hall, yet you still manage to slip into the guest bathroom downstairs. With trembling hands, you lock the door behind you, shutting yourself from the world outside. 

And that is when you fall apart, turning into a heaving mess as everything that you have been bottling up inside comes flooding out of you. 

“Breathe,” you command yourself while you fight back against your nausea. Holding onto the bathroom counter, you keep yourself and try your best to focus on controlling your breath. 

Take a slow, deep breath. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. 

Little by little, all the tension, the trembling, and the tightness in your chest begin to wane. But once everything is gone, once you begin to find calmness, your emotions seize control of you.

The next thing you know, an unstoppable flow of tears comes running down your face and you start sobbing, crying in defeat. 

“Shit. Fuck. What a mess,” you curse between each sob, feeling absolutely helpless and alone. You close your eyes, hoping that you can clear your head by doing so. Yet your mind keeps going to dark places. Constantly wondering and questioning about all of this. 

About him. 

“Did he ever mention anything that was related to his personal life that night?” you cannot help but wonder out loud. 

Only silence answers. Because you hold little to no recollection of the details from the conversation you shared with him that night. Whenever you try to remember, it always feels like there was a part of your memory that had gone missing. 

You haven’t had the slightest clue of the things you shared with him at the bar once the drinks started coming more frequently. Which is a wonder, because you are completely sure that neither of you had gotten drunk enough to experience a blackout, much less lose a memory.

At least for you, the alcohol was just enough to burn through your nerves and help build your confidence to take the lead and openly show the attraction you had for him. Even if he did end up taking back control the moment the two of you finally gave in to temptation. 

Your head starts pounding, aching the more you try to remember the missing details. Meanwhile, all the questions won’t stop coming, making it harder for you to regain a peaceful mind.

Did he ever mention having a girlfriend, or at least give any hint that he was taken? 

Was he wearing that ring on his finger when he was touching your skin under the dim light of his bedroom suite? 

You shake your head and close your eyes again when you still remember nothing. The only thing that remains in your memory is the look you saw in his gaze that night. The pitiful look that seemed to mirror yours, making you believe that he was looking for the same thing you did that night. 

An escape. A way to forget even if for a moment. 

But what if that was all just another lie? 

Your stomach churns. A sharp pain comes shooting through your body. It starts from your lower abdomen, causing you to almost double over. 

Fuck. Now what? 

Your hand instantly comes down to your stomach, pressing and rubbing gently against it until the uncomfortable ache ebbs under your touch. 

Right, I’m supposed to avoid any form of stress, you remind yourself as you recall what your doctor told you the last time you went to see her. Something about getting your blood tension rising when you are stressed, and that it wouldn’t be good for both you and the baby in the long run. Closing your eyes, you try to think of happy thoughts, all while keeping your palm pressed on your stomach.

To your surprise, rubbing your palm against the barely-there baby bump on your belly isn’t just helping you to soothe the pain away, but also to calm yourself down. 

With a sigh, you gently wipe your tears and look down. “I’m sorry for swearing so much, baby. I promise to stop doing it once you’ve grown big enough to start hearing things so you won’t learn any of it too soon. But fuck, this is too much.” 

It feels odd to speak like this to the living being growing inside you that is barely more than a piece of flesh. Yet speaking to your growing baby seems to help ease your anxiety a little. 

Better yet, it helps make you feel less alone. 

“Let’s not think any bad thoughts. Let’s not assume that your Dad is an asshole, okay? Not until we get to hear the full story,” you whisper to the tiny human growing inside you. The more you speak to it, the more it seems to be helping you to find some ease of mind. 

But even if it turns out that he was…

“Then I can deal with it later with my head held high,” you murmur to yourself in a soft, yet reassuring tone of voice. And you repeat it again, and again, almost as if you are chanting a spell which would be able to give you a boost of confidence. 

It may not immediately change the way you look at things, yet you can feel it slowly rising within you. It feels like a ray of light, the first spark of hope that you get to feel amid all the uncertainty which surrounds you.

Soon enough, the strong urge to cry no longer overcomes you. Even your hands have stopped shaking. All that you have left is exhaustion. It rolls through your body with a vengeance, and there is nothing that you want more right now other than to curl up like a ball on your bed and sleep it off. 

You raise your head to look at yourself in the mirror, and instantly a bitter laugh escapes you at what you are seeing.

Because you look like a complete mess. Your life is slowly turning into shambles, and it seems to be mocking you through your own reflection that is now staring back at you. 

“Just exactly what I need,” you whisper with a sigh.

I need to be stronger, if only for the sake of this little one in me, you tell yourself as you splash cold water at your face to wash away all the mess—the drying tears, your swollen eyes, and the skin on your face which has yet to regain its normal colours. 

It feels therapeutic to be washing everything off, leaving nothing more but your swollen eyes which you can explain as a part of your sickness. You may not be strong enough to take on the world, but at least now, you are prepared to face the reality that is waiting for you right outside of this door. 

No matter how fucking messy it is. 

Having this new revelation should be giving you a newfound credence that could push you forward. And yet there is none of that here. The only thing you are feeling now is the new bout of anxiety rolling up through your body, starting from your stomach as it churns painfully.

“Yeah, now I feel sick,” you groan as you rush to the toilet bowl, seconds away before you start dumping the small amount of food you had during dinner into waste. 

It takes a bit longer than expected before you finally find the courage to step out of the bathroom. 

Soft murmurs filter into the bathroom the moment you open the door. You can tell that the voices are coming from the living room, which means that the family has gathered there after dinner. It allows you to breathe a sigh of relief. At least this way you wouldn’t have to hide or make excuses if you have to bump into someone on your way to your bedroom.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you are relieved that nobody is around. Everyone should be in the living room, so you make haste, hoping to be able to escape before anyone notices. 

But as you turn to the next hallway, someone is standing in your way. The light is dim, yet you can easily recognise him before you get any closer. Standing with his back leaning against the wall, he has his hands tucked into his pockets and his eyes looking absently into the distance. 

As though he has been waiting for you. 

Taehyung turns when he notices you coming. Before you can start to wonder what he is doing here, a smile grows on his face.

“Hey, is everything okay? Everyone was worried,” he asks you, sounding genuinely concerned. 

The calm tone of his voice might be a bit deceiving if only you are not looking into his eyes. His gaze keeps wavering as he speaks, as if he is unable to look at you for too long. The same guilt you saw earlier is still present in his eyes. And you hate seeing it there. 

It only tells you that he has a secret that he is keeping from you. You have no idea how to feel about it. But if it has to do with his relationship with Alia, then—

“I’m fine, it’s just—” 

Your cheeks grow warm the moment you speak, feeling embarrassed at how dry your voice sounds. “It’s nothing. You heard my Mom, I’ll be better in no time.” 

You have so many things to say to him. So many questions that you would like to give him. But you are too tired to do anything. Much less to talk. As much as you can convince yourself that you are ready to face anything, now is not the right time to do it. 

So you keep your mouth shut and try to walk past him instead. Only that he isn’t letting you go that easily. 

“You know, it really is nice to see you again, Red.” 

His voice sounds so subdued that you almost miss it. You come to a halt. Your heartbeat starts picking up again. If you ever needed confirmation that the sinful night you shared with him truly happened, and that he remembered any part of it, then this is it. 

His comment which instantly brings you back to that fateful night. The nickname that he used to call you then.

You close your eyes, refusing to remember the way he managed to draw out a myriad of sensations with his voice alone. You refuse to be brought back there again. Not now, when your mind isn’t clear enough to be dealing with this. Taking a deep breath, you compose yourself just enough to face him.

Only to be met with his amused smile as he looks at you. 

“I was surprised to see you. I never would have thought that you could somehow be related to Alia.” He lets out a chuckle. It sounds empty and a bit bitter, mirroring exactly how you are feeling right now. 

Your chest feels tight, hating the way he is saying her name. Nor do you enjoy seeing the way his gaze changes when he does it. Annoyance fills your chest that you can barely speak, while he remains in his blissful ignorance as he continues talking, 

“Funny how life works, doesn’t it? I kept thinking about you after we met and wondered if we would ever see each other again. I regretted that I didn’t ask for your number before we parted ways. I didn’t even get to ask for your real name.” 

The tightness in your chest grows tenfold. 

You never admitted it before—not to yourself, and not even to Skye, when you first talked about him—yet there was some point between that night and the day you found out about the pregnancy that you spent your nights wondering if you would ever see him again. 

If there had been one thing that you regretted about that night, it would be the decision you made to leave the next morning without asking for his real name or leaving any means of contact. 

A night to escape from reality. 

That was all it meant for you at the time. So when the morning came, it was time for you to return to reality. Your reality. Your real life. And you were too busy preparing yourself to face all the hurt, the bad memories, and the stressful life that had nothing to do with the desirable woman that he brought into his bed the night before to even consider exchanging contacts with him. 

It didn’t matter if you were still riding the high of that night’s self-gratification and wanton pleasure through the rest of your trip. The moment everything ended, you simply moved on from it. Putting everything about that night to the back of your mind as you returned to your normal life and quickly fell back into your normal routine. 

Until weeks later, when life decided to fuck you over and you ended up with a baby growing inside you, and you had no way to find or contact him to inform him about it. 

“I guess it can’t be helped, given the circumstances.” Your conviction quickly melts into dread once you are reminded of the current circumstances. “It’s kinda too late now to talk about it and regret what didn’t happen, don’t you think? Seeing that you’re now dating my stepsister.” 

Taehyung winces. For a brief moment, you almost believe you can see a glimpse of hurt flickering through his gaze. And for some reason, it only pisses you off. 

So he doesn’t like being reminded of the fact that he is here for someone else? 

“Look, about Alia. I was hoping that we could talk. Maybe when all of this is done, or maybe after the holidays we can—” 

He continues talking, but you aren’t hearing anything. The questions that flooded your brain earlier come flashing back. The ringing that pained you returns. Everything lasts for a few more seconds before your mind clears out, and only one question remains. 

“Were the two of you already dating when we slept together?” 

He falls silent, taken aback. 

“No!” he immediately says, almost shouting. But he quickly reins himself before his voice would reach where everyone is and draw their attention. “Fuck, no. Is that why you’ve been sulking all through dinner?” he asks you with a hiss. He seems offended and hurt at the same time. “I’m not that kind of guy. Trust me.” 

“Sulking?” you let out an incredulous laugh. Is that how he saw it? When you were coming close to breaking apart right in front of everyone because of him? 

“How am I supposed to trust you when I barely know you? How am I supposed to know that you’re telling the truth?” you snap back at him with a hiss. “Just because we fucked it doesn’t mean that I’d magically know everything about you.” 

Again, he winces at your question. As if your words come to him like a slap on his face. He takes a deep breath and speaks more calmly in response, “Look, we should talk. Soon. I can explain everything. But not now, okay?” 

As much as you hate to admit it, or to agree with him, you decide that he is right. There are a lot of things that you need to discuss with him, and now is not the right time to do it. Not when your emotions are all over the place and when he has his girlfriend keeping him in close sight most of the time. 

“I agree. We do need to talk,” you finally agree, even though you know that both of you have different things in mind. 

You have no idea what he intends to discuss with you. The only thing that matters to you is to talk about the baby that you conceived together. And hopefully, decide what will happen next. 

“I should go,” you sigh, feeling exhausted and drained. “I need to lie down. This is too much for me to process.” 

You try to walk around him so you can continue on your way. Your head is pounding, and you have the dire need to rest in your comfortable bed, where you would be able to feel safe and hide away from all of this. 

“Wait,” Taehyung stops you before you can go too far. 

“What?” you ask him, feeling exasperated—both from the stress and from the way your body still tingles each time you hear his voice. You really need to get away from him. 

“Nothing, it’s just…” he starts, suddenly looking nervous with what he is about to say. The sound of laughter echoes from the living room, making him glance over his shoulder briefly before speaking to you with a lowered voice, “Can you do me a favour?” 

You frown at him. “What is it?” 

He looks wary, and it makes you feel uneasy in the stomach as you wait for him to speak. 

But what he says next makes you feel even worse. “Please don’t tell Alia that we’ve met before, more importantly that we hooked up that night.” 

You say nothing at first. Even if you are well aware of the situation and where Alia’s position in all of this, it still doesn’t stop the sharp pain you feel in your chest as he mentions her name, or to express his request. 

Taehyung steps closer when you remain quiet. His voice comes as a desperate whisper when he pleads with you, “Please? Can you do this for me?” 

You grit your teeth. “Fine, I won’t,” you finally say to him. But you refuse to give in that easily.

Taking a step closer to him, you point at him and demand him, “But you need to tell her.” 

He clenches his jaw as he listens to your demands, but you ignore it and continue to talk. “She needs to know—” your voice nearly wavers, because you know what would happen once everything is revealed. 

Telling your stepsister that you had slept with her boyfriend would not only be hard, but it would be ugly. 

But it would be better than keeping it a secret for much longer. Because secrets don’t always remain hidden, no matter how hard you try to keep them in the shadows. And things would even get messier once the baby comes while she is still being kept in the dark. 

It’s better to bite the bullet as soon as possible, rather than waiting and living your life in uncertainty until the day comes. 

“If you don’t, and we keep this a secret much longer, things might get messier if she somehow finds out on her own. The last thing I’d ever want is to get into any drama. Not with her,” you try to convince Taehyung, despite him looking like he would rather bolt and have nothing to do with any of this. 

After all the drama that happened last year, the last thing you need is to get involved in another. 

“I’ll tell her myself if necessary.” There is a bite in your voice when you are telling him all of this. To his credit, Taehyung—despite looking shell-shocked and cornered—seems to respect and understand your request. 

He lowers his head and nods. “Give me time. I’ll—” 

You are surprised to see him looking defeated. It makes you wonder if there is something more about their relationship that you need to know before going further. 

As Taehyung raises his head again, he seems more resolved. He looks straight into your eyes as he promises, “I’ll tell her myself once I get the chance to. I promise. But we’re going to have that talk first, and soon.” 

“It’s a promise.” You bite back the ache that suddenly pierces through your heart, seeing how he is so adamant about protecting his relationship with your stepsister. Trying not to look too deep into it and get yourself hurt further, you avoid looking into his gaze and start walking away from him. 

“Goodnight then—” you whisper to him as you turn away from him, biting back the sound of your defeat when you call his name, “Tae.” 

The moment you are within the safety of your bedroom, your knees buckle. Thankfully, you still manage to close the door and lock it behind you, once again shutting yourself from everyone to give you some moment of peace.

Although it doesn’t stop him from entering your mind in the silence that follows. 

As you lie down in your bed, curled up in a fetal position with your arms wrapped around yourself, your mind wanders back to the conversation you just had with Taehyung in the hallway. 

You can’t help it. His words keep coming back to you, and you keep finding yourself dissecting everything he said. You close your eyes, and keep telling yourself to stop. The situation that you are dealing with right now already seems absurd enough for you to waste your energy trying to understand him. 

You begin to wonder if things would have been better if you hadn’t come across each other again. Things would probably turn out differently. You may have to keep the baby’s existence a secret from him, and the truth about the father a secret from your family. 

You may have to deal with everything yourself. 

The possibility seems petrifying, but it still sounds a lot better than having to go against your stepsister. Better than causing your frail relationship to become even worse. This time, you know that this would be big enough to ruin any chance for you and your stepsister to have any kind of relationship at all. 

He was right. It’s funny how life works. If only it doesn’t have to be this hard to laugh it off. 

Stop it. 

Keeping your eyes closed, you let out a deep sigh and force yourself to think about something else. Anything. As long as you are not thinking about him. His face, his voice, the scent of his cologne, everything that belongs to him. 

Your head starts swimming. No, everything about him now belongs to someone else. 

Once again, you force yourself to start thinking of less stressful things. Like Skye’s text message from this afternoon suggesting that you could run away with her to a secluded place somewhere in Europe so that the two of you could raise the baby together. Or the little stories that Honey shared about the cute new gardener now working at her apartment complex—the complex specifically built for elders like herself—that she wanted to introduce to you the next time you come by to visit.

You regret forgetting to pick up the smoothie that your mother made for you while you were throwing up in the bathroom, all due to Taehyung’s distraction. You wonder if having the smoothie would be able to help you feel better. Picturing the drink being left attended in the kitchen, you can picture your grandmother—the sweet little mischievous angel that she is—sneaking in a few drops of rum into the smoothie when your mother isn’t looking. 

This thought makes you smile. It replaces every ugly thoughts that keep circling inside your mind and calms you down. 

Your heartbeat is no longer beating like crazy. The more you fill your head with wonderful thoughts, the sooner the uneasy feeling in your stomach begins to wane. 

And soon enough, you start drifting away to a restless sleep. 

But just like how he invaded your home with his sudden appearance, Taehyung invades your sleep once your mind is left unguarded. 

Speaking to him, albeit briefly, brings you back to that night. The moment you close your eyes, you start seeing everything from back then that you couldn’t remember in your waking hours. Even the smallest details that your conscious mind has forgotten. Everything comes crashing down on you as you toss and turn in your bed, unable to give in completely to a peaceful slumber as memories continue to flood your dreams. 

Six weeks ago…

You opened your eyes and squinted. 

The overhead lamp above your head was bright, and it was hurting your eyes. You could barely see a thing through your bleary eyes, until your gaze drifted further, looking into the dimly lit bedroom far across the foyer. 

The room looked more spacious than yours, albeit a bit messy. The massive bed looked comfortable, and there were two lounge seats set up near the windows that looked more luxurious than the ones you had in your room. 

“Your bedroom seems a lot more cozy than mine.” 

The words came out of your lips with a moan. The sound seemed foreign. Barely recognisable through your hazy mind. But there was a familiar sensation slowly rising in your body that hadn’t at all come from the alcoholic drinks you were having tonight. 

“Hmmm…You think so?”

A deep, sultry voice spoke as a pair of hot lips made their way down the side of your neck, tracing your skin with delicate kisses that made it even harder for you to think straight. 

Shivers ran down your body. Heat rolled through your chest. And it almost seemed to you that your skin was becoming even more sensitive to the touch when even the most subtle caress of his fingers was able to light up your senses. 

Right after the voice spoke to you, he suddenly switched and started kissing his way up. You blinked, and his face came into view just as he looked down at you. The beautiful face that captivated you when you first met him at the bar was presented right before your eyes. 

So close. So tempting. And his eyes were so intense that you nearly lost your breath. He smiled and leaned down, capturing your lips with a kiss. 

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he murmured against your lips, drawing another moan out of you which snapped you from your daze. 

You sighed as you gave in to the chaste kiss he was giving you. “It’s kind of hard to look around and see anything when you have me pinned to the door.” 

He let out a soft chuckle and once again pressed his lips on yours. As if he was both pleased and amused that he got to put you in this position. When he pulled back, the look in his eyes softened. 

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself. It’s all your fault for teasing me all the way here while I couldn’t allow myself to touch you with so many eyes paying attention,” he said without any hint of regret in his voice. 

“Well, forgive me because I wasn’t aware,” you taunted him back, knowing fully well what you had done to tease him until he was on the verge of breaking apart even before you reached his hotel suite. 

As much as you wanted to hold back, you were quite sure that you hadn’t gotten things wrong. You couldn’t have possibly mistaken the chemistry that kept sparking between you. And the way he kept openly staring at your body was enough to make his intention clear, as his eyes seemed more honest than the words he gave you. 

But back at the bar, you had let him be the first one to make the move. 

With his sturdy hands, he was the one who pulled your seat closer. By placing his arm on your backrest, it may have seemed as if he was marking his territory for anyone else at the hotel bar to see. Normally, something like this would’ve put you off. But there was something in the way he did it that made you feel otherwise, allowing you to give in and lean more into his warmth instead of pushing him away. 

That was when you reciprocated his actions with your own. The light and subtle touches of your fingers on his arm drew soft shudders through his body. The accidental brushes that happened when you moved against his body pushed him into wrapping his arm around you, keeping you close before he finally pulled you out of the bar. 

When you leaned close enough to whisper softly against his ear, you could feel goosebumps rising on his skin, his heartbeat escalating under your palm, and he could barely hold himself back from devouring your lips right there at the hotel lobby. Right where everyone could see you falling into pieces under your sinful desire.

By the time you were alone with him in the elevator, the tension between you just kept escalating until he finally snapped. 

He nearly dragged you across the hallway leading to his bedroom suite in his rush to get you alone. The moment he pulled you in through the door, every bit of his composure simply left him. He barely gave you a chance to catch a single glance of the suite, as he immediately pushed your body against the door and kept you there. 

Until this moment. 

His eyes grew dark after listening to your answer. His breath is still ragged after the hot kiss that he gave you once he got you pinned between his hard body and the locked door behind you. 

With his broad chest locking you in place, his hips pressing against your lower body, he left you with nowhere else to go. But this didn’t seem to be enough for him. Looking into his eyes, you could tell that he needed to see you become even more vulnerable. Almost as if he wanted to punish you for putting him on the edge. 

And he did exactly that as he slipped one hand around your neck and pulled your hair, tilting your head back so that he could continue exploring the column of your throat with his sinful lips. Instead of resisting it, you simply gave in. Arching your back to him further as he trailed kisses on your skin, your hands clutching on his jacket to hold on. 

He used his other hand to explore the rest of your body. Starting from your waist, he continued to move further down to your hips. Tracing every curve, every dent along your body with his firm fingers pressing through your thin dress. 

Just as he was about to reach the hem of your dress, he suddenly stopped and pulled back. 

“Tell me again. Are you sure this is what you want?” His voice was quiet when he asked you this. It sounded as though he was caught between convincing himself that this was happening while giving you an out for one last time before getting too deep. 

But you had gone deep. 

And you knew then that the moment you let everything happen, there was no going back from it. Everything about this was new to you; hooking up with a complete stranger while you were in the middle of nowhere, and knowing that once the night was over, both of you were going to move on with your lives. 

It felt thrilling to think about it, and the liquid courage should help you in letting go of your inhibitions. Yet you couldn’t deny the fact that you are feeling slightly nervous about jumping fully into this. 

When you failed to answer him, Tae leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss right below your ear and whispered, “Well? Talk to me. Because there is no going back from this once we begin, and I won’t let you go until you tell me what you want.” 

The way his breath tickled your ear and caressed your skin broke you out of the walls you put up. Every flicker of doubt you felt immediately melted. You brushed against him, allowing him to feel every bit of heat coursing through your body before you answered with a whisper, “Yes. I’ve never been so sure in my whole life.” 

You could feel the way his breath was caught as you pressed your palm on his chest. Pressing against him, you raised yourself up and nipped his chin with your teeth. 

“This is what I want.” 

You weren’t completely sure if you ever got to finish your sentence when all of a sudden, his lips came crashing into yours, pressing firmly as he kissed you, barely concealing his desire for more. 

The kiss unleashed your own desire. You opened your mouth for him in return, allowing him to devour you, to have a taste of your demands as he thoroughly kissed you until you were left breathless in his arms. 

His hand began to move again just then. Tracing down your hips, he pressed the tips of his fingers harder into your flesh. He made it seem as if your dress had melted into your skin with the heat of his touch that you felt completely exposed to him. And he didn’t stop until he finally found the exposed skin of your thigh. 

Your body quivered upon contact, and you could tell that he felt it too. He began stroking your skin, moving at a slow, agonising pace just to put you on the edge. 

And he easily succeeded. Already, you could barely breathe, even when he was still far from touching any part of your body that needed him the most. 

Overcame with need, your body started moving on instinct. As if his touches were controlling you as you lifted your thigh for him. His grip on your thigh tightened, helping you to keep your leg up and open yourself to him while his kiss became sloppy yet gentle as he released his hold on your hair. 

He moved his other hand down, brushing against your covered breast with a brief contact and continued trailing down. You felt him pressing at your hips, before pulling the hem of your dress upward until your lower region was completely exposed. His hand continued its travel as it climbed up your inner thigh. So you opened your legs to give him better access. A move which he appreciated with a deep hum, before you felt his thumb brushing up just an inch away from your throbbing core. 

“Should we move this someplace else? Somewhere that would be more comfortable for us?” he asked you with his lips hovering close to yours. 

It took a moment for his words to sink in. Too lost in the sensation that you were made to feel, you felt as if you were drunk and high, not from the alcohol that was no longer running wildly through your veins, but from his entire presence alone. 

All thoughts faded further as his thumb grazed across the front of your panties, finding your folds through the fabric before he pressed down, enough to give pressure on your covered clit. Sparks flew through your half-lidded eyes as pleasure came rushing through you in waves. You couldn’t stop the moan slipping out of your lips, nor the way your hips rocked into his touch to feel more. 

“So responsive,” he murmured against your neck before he planted a light kiss on your skin. “I would have loved to watch and enjoy every reaction that you would give me, every sound you make, while I have you lie down on my bed and fuck you senseless.” 

Your breath hitched and caught in your chest. Not only because of his words, but also from the way his thumb continued to rub against your covered clit. It felt sinful, yet so delectable the way he kept drawing more and more sparks and shuddering pleasure through your body.

After being deprived of such attention for quite some time, your body became more sensitive to every friction, every treatment he was giving you, and you simply wanted more. 

“Then take me there. Take me to your bed.” 

As if you had flicked a switch in his brain, his expression changed. His gaze darkened as he captured your lips with unrestrained need, yet he was careful when he picked you up, pressing you against his chest when he turned and moved to take you away from the door.

You wrapped your arms and legs around him for balance, while your lips remained locked in a deep kiss. You could feel his long stride as he began carrying you across the room. His kiss and his firm hold on your bottom cheeks were enough to draw your attention away from his clumsy footsteps, but not enough to deny you from sensing the changes happening around you.

The scent of his cologne grew thicker as he went deeper into the room, and you were getting more and more lost in him. Drowned in his heat, his kiss, and the traces that he had left behind all over his bedroom, you felt him everywhere all at once that you felt like you were being put under a spell. 

All so suddenly, you were pulled out of it when he broke away from the kiss. He laid you gently over the cold white sheets of his partly-made bed. Instead of joining you right away, he chose to pull back. His eyes seemed to glint in the dimly lit room as he took this moment to take you in. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured softly, drawing heat back to your face. 

He kept his eyes on you as he shrugged off his jacket and began peeling his shirt from his chest. Desire pulsed through your body as you watched every move he was making without ever drawing his attention away from you. 

The more you watched him, the stronger the pull that you felt towards him. Once the need to touch him took over, you reached up and tugged on his pants, hoping that you could quickly shred them off of his body. 

You barely grazed against his covered hard-on when he stopped you by catching your wrists. Like a disappointed teacher, he made a disapproval sound with his tongue. 

“Patience, Red,” he teasingly said to you as he grabbed the hem of your dress and pulled it off of you with one swift move. You fell back to the bed with a gasp, shocked to see how easy it was for him to take over until you were left with nothing more but your lacy underthings. 

The intensity you felt from his gaze made you want to wrap your arms around yourself and hide. But being half inebriated was making you slow in thoughts and movement that you couldn’t do anything but lay still. At the same time, you enjoyed the way he was looking at you, loving how he was losing himself to you the same way you did to him. 

But it was the words that he said next that further brought out your wanton needs.

“Be a good girl and stay still. I want you to stay just like this,” he said with a murmur while his eyes ran down your body, “I want you to lie on your back while you are screaming out my name.” 

If only you hadn’t been so lost for words, perhaps you would have challenged him in return. Instead, by the time every piece of his clothing was gone, you felt like you had melted further into the sheets. The raw passion you saw in his gaze and the way he was tracing his fingertips on your skin had locked you completely in place, leaving you with no other option but to surrender as he took control.

He bent down, his lips came down to your neck. Planting his kisses on your skin, he kept your attention away from his hands as he snapped off your bra and went down to pull your panties down your hips. As he dragged your panties down your bare legs, he continued his kisses further down, not stopping until he reached your heaving chest. 

You couldn’t even remember what happened to that flimsy piece of fabric that he took from you. Everything else faded as his tongue grazed across your chest, drawing a gasp out of your lips. His firm hands returned to your hips right then, holding you down while he captured your taut nipple between his teeth. 

The feeling that coursed through you was heavenly. A shooting pain came with a flare as he bit down, yet it was quickly replaced with an overwhelming feeling of pleasure when he lapped the pain away with his sinful tongue. 

“Tae—”

His body quivered against yours at the sound of your voice. He pulled away with a grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched you arching your chest as if you were chasing him. 

He ran his gaze down your body. Perusing you while silently admiring what he was seeing while he licked his lips. As if he was picturing the way you would taste. 

“Tell me how badly you want this, Red,” he taunted you with his hand reaching out to the nightstand. You vaguely saw him grabbing a condom while you were struggling to breathe. Your eyes fell on his exposed, throbbing cock, and words simply left you. 

Seeing its impressive size and girth, your entire body erupted with a pulse. It started from deep inside your core, right where you wanted to feel him the most. Astonished, you failed to remember that he was still waiting for your answer with his eyes locked on your face. 

And he made you struggle further to find words when he reached down, wrapping his long fingers around his cock and started giving himself slow, lazy strokes. You could see the bead of his pre-cum glistening under the dim lighting. It took everything in you to stop yourself from leaning forward and lapping him dry. To have a taste, before you let him devour every drop of your essence. 

“Red? Talk to me,” he spoke to you again with a curious tone in his voice. 

He knew that he wasn’t getting any attention, as your eyes were locked only at one place that was not his face, and he seemed to be curious to know what was making you so lost in thoughts. 

Instead of answering him, you continued to watch, completely transfixed by his actions, as he slowly spread his pre-cum along the length of his cock. You licked your lips, almost as if you could taste him. A barely concealed whimper slipped out of your lips when you watched him slowly roll the condom to cover himself from the tip of his cock and down to the base. 

Seeing him covered with protection seemed to snap you back to the present. Even if your pulsing need still refused to tame down. 

Resting back against the pillows, you dragged your eyes away from his impressive cock to his beautiful face. 

“I want you here. Inside me,” you finally responded to his question. Placing your palms on the underside of your thighs, you parted your legs open, making him see the mess that had been building up right between your legs while you were enjoying the show he was giving you. 

Now it was your turn to give him a show. 

Reaching between your legs, you moved your fingers to find your folds. You bit back a gasp once the tips of your fingers were met with your wet arousal. It felt slick as you moved your fingers around, parting your nether lips so he could see your swollen clit, before you moved your fingers in circles, pressing at yourself the exact same way you wished he would. 

“Please, fuck me, Tae. Fuck me good.” 

His pupils dilated at the sound of your voice, at the pleading words you were giving him. You loved the way he was reacting to you just as much as he did with you, yet you decided to push his buttons further by adding, “And then I want to hear you scream my name while you cum inside me.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “What a little brat,” he said, chuckling. “So you like to play games, hmmm?” 

You bit your bottom lip, holding back a moan that was threatening to come out when your touch inadvertently pushed against the source of your heat. “Oh, I do. Games are always fun.” 

While he continued stroking his cock at a lazy pace, he used the other hand to grab your neck. His palm fit perfectly as he wrapped it around the column of your throat, putting pressure that was not enough to choke you, yet enough to show you who was in control. 

“Then let’s play,” he groaned while he pressed you back down on the bed. “But this time, I make the rules.” 

You felt the electrifying pleasure surging through your body as he brushed your hand away and lined himself against your entrance, shutting down the circuits inside your brain for a moment and stopping you from wiggling too much beneath him just to feel more friction. 

A sharp moan was drawn from your lips as Tae slammed his full length deep inside you. The sensation that you felt from being filled by his width was so feral and explosive that you were sure you immediately experienced your orgasm right then and there. 

Your body must have been shaking, which was a response that you failed to notice as you had your senses filled with the steady pulse of pleasure pressing across the girth of his cock. He must have noticed it when he came to a halt, giving you a chance to process everything and adjust to his presence inside you.

Nothing made sense to you beyond the pulsing pleasure that you felt from your hot pussy. Your senses were filled with the sound of your racing heartbeat, the soothing touch of his fingers on your skin, and the whispers of his voice calling you back to him. 

He only managed to bring you back to the present by pressing gentle kisses on your lips, nose, and then on the rest of your face, stopping only after he kissed your lips again to draw your attention back to him. 

Your legs were quivering when you opened your eyes to see him, yet you could already tell from the way the pulses that came right where you were joined started to settle, that your body had adjusted perfectly to his size. 

But it didn’t mean that you would simply take it without sharing your thoughts. 

“You’re—big,” you complained with a soft moan when you felt him growing harder inside you. It didn’t stop you from rocking your hips, trying to feel more friction, while he merely chuckled at your words. 

“And it’s perfect for your tight pussy.” 

His words drew a gasp from you. But he didn’t pay much attention to it, as he slowly began to move. He started with a slow pace, which was torturous and agonising, forcing you to feel the delectable way his girth was brushing against your pulsing walls. 

Back and forth he went, going so deep you could almost feel him pressing up your stomach before pulling out until only the tip was buried inside you. He kept moving at the same pace, until you began to feel more desperate. Even your body was shaking with the need to feel more. 

“More—!” you whispered with a strangled moan, “go faster.” 

Hearing this, instead of doing what you were begging him to, Tae denied your plea by doing the opposite. With a wicked grin on his face, the fucker slowed down, bringing the pleasure that had been rising back down a notch. 

You opened your mouth to protest against it, and he moved his hands down your hips, stopping at your thighs where he gave you a tight grip. 

“You want more?” he asked you, his voice almost seemed to grow deeper, and you could feel a tinge of danger when he spoke. The same danger you saw coming through his gaze as he slowly brought your legs up. 

You expected him to stop once he got your legs up his shoulders. But he just kept going. And going. Until you were nearly folded with your legs almost pressed to your chest.

“Tae—!” 

It made you feel vulnerable, with nothing but your hands to use to hold on while he had full control of your body. He was still buried inside you, and this position allowed you to feel him more. As though you had grown tighter around him and he was growing bigger. His entire length and width made you feel full, as his cock was pressing tightly against your hot walls. 

“You wanted more,” he murmured as he began moving, rocking his hips slowly back and forth, going in and out of you, drawing more and more of that shuddering pleasure out of your body as he continued fucking you gently. “I’m giving you more.” 

He began increasing his pace. Going faster the more he heard you moaning in pleasure. “Lift your arms, Red. Bring them up and hold the pillows.” 

It took a moment for his words to register in your head. Your hands had been clutching tightly on his forearms and it was a struggle to let go. And he waited, tormenting you by keeping his pace much too slow to your liking until you followed his command. 

Your hands trembled as you unlatched them from his skin. You could barely feel your fingers as you dragged your hands up, as every part of your body grew more sensitive the more you opened your entire self to him. Keeping your eyes on him, you got lost in his intense gaze. 

It was then when you finally came in contact with the soft pillows above your head, and your fingers easily sank into them, latching onto them as you did when you were holding onto his arms.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he murmured gently, and you were pleasantly surprised to realise how much you loved hearing his praise. Warmth bloomed in your chest, and it easily made its way down right to your core. “Now hold on tightly and don’t let go.” 

And you did just that. Holding on tightly the way he wanted you to. 

Only once he gained complete control of your body, once you fully submitted to him, he finally fulfilled your wish. He held firmly on your thighs to keep them folded and open for him, and he began ramming his cock deep inside you. 

He was doing it faster. Harder. Sending you high in pleasure while all you could do was take his constant pounding. The only leverage you had to hold on was the tight hold you had on the pillows and the weight of his body that was pressing you down each time he pushed deeply inside you. 

The anomalous sounds coming out of both of your lips kept bouncing off the walls. Followed by the sound of flesh clashing against flesh, the slick sounds that came from right where you were joined, and the creaking sound of the bed beneath you. 

He kept going, relentless in his rough thrusts and his need to push you over the edge, until you could feel the rise of your orgasm coming in waves. The wanton pleasure that was hot and intense came rising inside you, growing rapidly with his deep thrusts until you finally succumbed to it, coming into your climax with a scream. 

“Tae, I’m coming,” you cried out to him as you fell over the edge, though you weren’t completely sure if the words coming out of your lips were as coherent as you thought they would have been. 

The sound of your pounding heartbeat seemed to drown everything away. Except that you could still hear the sound of his breathless grunts as they grew clearer, and the strangled moan that came out of him when he shouted, “That’s it, Red. Fuck, I’m coming!”

With a sharp intake of breath, he came to his climax. You felt every pulse of his release as he came inside you, and the tremble in his chest that surged through him with his deep groan as he relished the pleasure. Even after his release, he kept moving, rocking slowly and steadily until the spasms of your orgasm slowly began to wane down. 

He remained buried inside you when he gently released you from his hold. You could barely feel his lips pressing on your quivering thighs before he lowered them back on the mattress, yet his gentle fingers remained hot on your skin when he brushed up against you. 

He reached up and gently pried your fingers away from the pillows before slipping his fingers between yours. The way your fingers were entwined together felt so intimate. So unlike anything that you had ever thought about what a one-night stand would entail. 

Your body felt hot, and your muscles were lax, but there was a series of small spasms still going strong from deep inside you, coaxed by his incessant rocking. You should have been pushing him off of you, instead of embracing his weight as he lowered himself, covering your body with his own. 

“Tae—” you whimpered against his lips as he kissed you. Holding your hands in his, he continued to rock his hips. 

How he managed to remain so hard and stiff even after his climax was beyond you. He still felt thick as he moved. His cock brushed against your pulsing walls as he went in and out, awakening all sparks of pleasure that were supposed to have dwindled. 

And with how sensitive your body was, it rose and peaked so quickly and you had no power to stop it. 

“Too…much…” you cried between the strangled moans coming out of your lips, right before he swallowed them with another kiss. 

“One more,” he groaned as he picked up his pace. “Just do it one more time for me, Red.” 

You were so sensitive it was beginning to hurt, but the pleasure was also maddening that you didn’t want to stop. This time, he wasn’t holding you down so strongly, allowing you to move beneath him. So you rocked back against him, pushing up each time he was thrusting into you. It only took a couple of more strokes before the coil in your core snapped, and you were sent to another climax. 

And he joined you in your release, falling into a smaller climax of his own as you clenched tightly around him. 

He came with a deep groan. His whole body quaked against you before he finally fell on top of you. While you were trying to control your breath, his lips came brushing your neck, kissing you gently to help soothe down the shudders running through your body.

“Fuck…so perfect,” he sighed between his kisses, his voice came in and out through your senses, and the sparks you felt rushing through your body started waning as you were slowly drifting away into the night, with his words echoing in your dreams,

“You are perfect.” 

Author’s Note 2.0 | Thank you for reading so far. Any likes, kudos, comments, and feedbacks will be appreciated. The story continues in part 2.

⟶ Jingle All the Way collab masterlist | A Christmas Fix: next chapter ⇢

© All rights reserved. 2024 Yoonia — Unauthorized use and/or duplication of these works, including reposting, translating and modification in any form, is strictly prohibited. 

[nuggeteri]

pour @jean-phillipedelaporte

(for my best french friend except it's in English let's go.)

(I take any and all requests about the life series.)

-

Scott took a step back.

He was in the Cod Lands.

He didn't know why, per say. A few hours ago, he could've asked his council and they'd probably have given him a dozen good reasons for him to be here. But right at this moment, Scott didn't think any reason would be worth endangering Jimmy.

Or, well, the Codfather, but he insisted on being referred to as Jimmy by Scott, for some weird reason. Even if he got all riled up whenever Fwhip dared to utter that name. He guessed that came with allyship.

It didn't matter either way--he didn't even know if that offer still stood true or not. He definitely wasn't allied with Fwhip anymore, his standing with Gem was shaky at best, and he's still not solved the conflict between him and Shubble. If he had the misfortune of fucking it all up, Jimmy definitely could take him in a fight.

Which was a weird thought, wasn't it? The Cod Lands had always been made fun of for being the weakest Empire. Standing here, though, Scott couldn't help but feel as though power meant nothing if he didn't have allies.

Katherine wouldn't help him in a war--she'd be allied with his ennemies. And Jimmy actually had many allies, like the Copper King, Queen Lizzie and King Joel.

He's spiraling, he knew this. It didn't stop him.

"Penny for your thoughts?" A voice interrupted his thought process--it couldn't be anyone other than Jimmy. And he sounded so friendly, Scott didn't even know why he was spiraling in the first place.

(A step back and frost on the ground told him exactly why, but he gulped and ignored it. He had things to do here---though he couldn't remember what.)

"You're not helping your case here." He said instead of voicing any of his thoughts. Why would he ever, anyway? Jimmy just looked at him--brows furrowing making the confusion crystal clear on his face. "What case?"

"With the nickels." He clarified and Jimmy just groaned---getting a chuckle out of Scott.

"What do you want anyway Scott?" He asked to change the subject. Scott let's him--he'd let Jimmy do anything.

"I can't quite recall," He answered honestly.

"It has been a while since we've seen each other. We can just hang out."

The reminder hit him right in the gut.

He hadn't seen anyone in a while because he'd been away doing his pity party in the Wastes, leaving his council in charge while he figured out his powers. Not like he ever did, anyway.

"We can't." Scott answered, once more, honestly. "I'm a busy man." Which is not all that honest, but it would get the job done...

"Busy visiting my Empire?" And that is the worse. Jimmy is not calling him out on his bullshit, his voice is filled with pure curiosity. Scott plays on it. "We don't have a lot of books on mer-above-land culture."

Which wasn't untrue.

"The Cod Lands are young, my apologies. We don't have many historians yet."

Yet they could beat him in a war, because Scott didn't have allies.

He sighed and looked over the horizon--it being the ocean. As an Avian, he could see further than most species, meaning he could see the outline of the Ocean Empire from here.

"Rivendell has always loved writing. I don't doubt I could send some journalists your way, then?" He proposed, because while he was curious---he also didn't want to make his visit worthless.

(There was Jimmy. How could anything ever be worthless if there was Jimmy? Scott's really selfish, isn't he?)

"That wouldn't bother me at all. More exposure, really. My Empire also loves writing, mostly stories though."

Rivendell... Doesn't actually have many fiction writing, really. Autobiographies, sure, plenty of poems and historical books, but very few novels. "You've peeked my attention."

"The Cod Empire is just approaching it's fifteen birthday. Most our authors are teens, believe it or not. Creating romance between mer, because they have never seen it depicted. It's quite sweet. I don't imagine they have the talent of full fledged Rivendell authors, though." Jimmy didn't know that Rivendell didn't actually have any novel authors. He doesn't break the news to him yet, though.

"Have some faith, art is art. I have never seen mer love stories. Care to share?"

"It can vary a lot. From coral to kelp, hot and cold waters, sand dust and gravel, mud and dirt. Ice, too."

Ice?

"Ice?"

"Yeah, well, ice is water, is it not? Water magic can still control it."

"Really?" He can't help but thinks about his magic. "How come you haven't shown it in Rivendell?"

"That would be an act of war, wouldn't it? Affecting the environment without consent." He said and Scott can't help but think about the many empires he's accidentally frozen. "But we also kinda did. The pond, the cod never really died when it got frozen over, did they?"

Jimmy knew about that? It wasn't the time to dwell on it, though, because Jimmy was.. right.

His hands start to form fists. He can feel ice spreading on his palm and he didn't want it to get out of control.

"Come on, big guy, let me see," The Codfather said as he approached Scott--Scott took one step back, simply one, which is why Jimmy gets to him and softly takes his hand.

In a matter of seconds, it all melts back to water.

"See? Ice doesn't only have sharp edges."

[ilysungho]

hiii could u do 20, & 70 with sungho?

a/n: tbh i thought of making a text post sorta thing but i'm going to have to play with it to really understand how to do it well, so phonecall it is! this is SUPER indulgent… so sorry (not sorry) about that 😅 and also, merry christmas to everyone who celebrates! <3 wc: 1.5k contains: dom?sungho x sub?reader, reader implied to have medium or bigger sized tits, voyeurism, marking, masturbation, phone sex, established relationship (bf/gf), use of nicknames, lowercase intended, prompts italicized

sungho lay his head on his crossed arms, with tired eyes looking sad. his phone sat upright on the desk of the dimly lit hotel room, talking to you in a soft voice.

“i miss you… i wanna be back home in your arms already.”

“i know baby i miss you too, but on the bright side there are only a couple days left of tour! you’ll be back in no time!”

a small smile formed on his lips at your enthusiasm, grateful to have such an understanding partner. tour had been going well but drained him physically and mentally. not to mention, it’d been months since he’d seen you. since he’d touched you. the expression got replaced by a pout now as he remembered the last kiss the two of you shared before he left for the airport.

“what happened my love? what’s making you sad now?” his ears perked at your concerned tone, mentally cursing himself for not being better at hiding his emotions. he didn’t want to worry you after all.

“nothing, i told you already. i miss you... do you miss me too?”

“of course i do silly, i’m always missing you.”

“well, what do you do when you miss me?”

“you know… look at your pictures, listen to your voice, watch videos of you. there’s plenty of those after all.” you giggled as you recall the latest reel that got posted on the group’s instagram, him babbling on about how good the food was backstage.

“i know, but is there anything else you do? i wanna know everything please.” the same pout returned on his lips, not satisfied with the answer you had given him.

“well i mean…" you started off, feeling nervous to say the truth, "i just… you know… actually no, nothing! just those!”

sungho sat up straight on the chair, leaning back and furrowing his eyebrows. the change in your vocal tone caught his attention, genuinely curious now to know what you’re so embarrassed about. “you started talking so finish the sentence love.”

your hands came up to your face on instinct, covering you as you whispered, “i just… touch myself…”

“i can’t hear you princess, can you speak up?” he smiled seeing your state, teasing you now despite having heard what you said. he silently thanked his luck for letting him win the single room for this tour stop.

you raised your voice a little, just enough to let him hear you through the blockade you put up. “i said that i t-touch... myself… while thinking about you…”

“so… you touch yourself to the thought of me…? i’d… like to see that in action, love.”

“n-now?!”

he raised his eyebrows and nodded, as if he was questioning why you didn’t immediately do as he said. you got flustered by his request but composed yourself before setting down your phone against your bed’s headboard and sitting a bit far so he could see your full body.

truth be told, the anticipation already turned on the both of you. the atmosphere changed in the two rooms as you bit your lips, your boyfriend copying the motion. he stared at you intently, not wanting to miss any moment.

you touched your body slowly, intentionally pressing harder so sungho could see your curves through your clothes. you imagined his soft yet strong hands doing so as you reached the hem of your shirt. well, the hem of his shirt.

his eyes never left the screen, not daring to blink as you lifted the top off of your body to reveal your lacy bra he gifted you on your anniversary. he made sure to spoil you whenever he got the chance, and the memories of your anniversary night flooded in through both your minds.

“you’re so beautiful…” blushing at his comment, your hands rubbed the sides of your waist, inching upwards to your chest. sungho’s breathing got heavy as you reached your back, unhooking and removing the pretty cloth. he bit his lower lip, letting out a soft moan seeing you half stripped. despite being so far from each other, you still had that effect on him, making you feel proud of yourself.

“how do you imagine me touching you love?” his question made you smile as one of your fingers reached for your mouth. coating it with saliva, you hissed as you put it in contact with your perky nipples. he licked his lips at the sight, imagining sucking your tits.

your hands played with your boobs, letting out soft moans and closing your eyes to imagine your hands as your boyfriend’s instead. you flicked and pinched them, just how his tongue and fingers would. your mouth reached down to suck on the skin, your hands helping you hold the flesh.

“fuck you’re so good for me…” sungho’s mouth parted as he watched you mark yourself. he never imagined you doing that to yourself but now he couldn’t get enough of it. you littered your chest with mutiple marks, grinding on the mattress below you during the last couple.

the whole time, sungho’s boner grew until it got uncomfortable to sit with his pants covering it. he moved the chair backwards, putting himself into view as he palmed his bulge. you opened your eyes to look at his changed position, moans escaping as you watched him.

“i wish i was with you… i wanna help you.” he nodded his head, agreeing with you. he too wanted to be there with you. to touch you. to kiss you. to love you.

you bit your lips as you teased him now. your thighs parted to show him where he could’ve been right now, and he groaned knowing exactly what you thought of. words didn’t matter anymore when every movement was able to communicate what the other feels and insists.

as if on cue, both of you removed your bottoms. he did so just enough to where his cock sprung out whole, while you removed everything to bare yourself naked to him. he threw his head back after seeing you, in awe of your beautiful body. sungho really was so lucky you were his…

he brought his head back, mumbling a “show me babe.” his hand wrapped around his dick while you rubbed your folds. both your hands got covered with precum, with both wishing it was the others’ instead. sungho pumped his cock at the same time as you circled your clit, both eliciting out sounds of pleasure for the other to hear.

no matter how good it felt, you kept your eyes open to watch sungho just as he had been doing. you watched how he stroked up and down his shaft, his thumb teasing the slit on his tip while he chanted your name. you grinded against your fingers, imagining rubbing yourself against your boyfriend length.

as lewd sounds escaped from the speakers, so did words of pleasure. sungho watched your fingers prodding at your hole, keeping his hand wrapped around his dick and staying still. “go on baby, finger yourself.”

“mm no i want you to fuck me.”

a grunt came from his throat as he watched you do as he said, in return thrusting into his fist to imitate him pounding into your pussy. if you were with him right now, he knows he would’ve been able to thrust up until your cervix. just the thought was enough to make him cum really.

he abused his cock, imagining it as your cunt as you twisted your fingers inside your hole, inching closer to your phone to show him your dripping pussy. you moaned about how good it felt, telling him to fuck you harder, and faster, and deeper (despite only being to reach as far in as your fingers can). the squelching noises drove him insane, responding to you every time in a deep, husky voice.

both of you were so close, panting while holding on to your release despite starting to feel tired. you whined as you felt the knot in your core threaten to untie, giving a signal to your boyfriend that you were about to cum. he fastened his pace then, cumming while gripping tighter as he tried to control where it spilled. you came at the same time, spilling your slick onto the bed he would be in soon.

the both of you looked up to see each others' eyes, sungho’s squinting into a big smile.

as if on cue, woonhak's voice rang through the main door. “hyung we’re going to have dinner now, come!”

“shit babe… i’ll talk to you later, i love you, you did so well for me.” he kissed the camera before ending the facetime.

both of you cleaned up your respective messes, sungho rather quickly due to his presence being needed soon. but you took your time, taking pictures of yourself to send to your boyfriend.

my love 💙: i’ll be honest, i also get off to the thought of you. 8:04pm - Read

y/n: [4 attachments sent] then just call me next time 🤍 8:15pm - Read

[thetadispatcher]

Peter returned the nod, it was the best thing he could think of to do to show non-verbally that he acknowledged the acceptance of his apology.

He shifted his attention back to Rook and BeeBee, feeling he should better explain the URS12's existence as it was different from other android animals. "Actually no, she was meant for a zoo. Some android animals are made to replace the need for the real thing in zoos, that way the real animal can stay in the wild where it belongs and the android one can be used to teach children about them, without the need for training and the risk they still might harm someone. They even make androids of extinct animals, just so people can see what one would've looked like well alive instead of just some taxidermy." He felt it was a good enough explanation of what BeeBee's true purpose had been, she had been made as a learning tool for a zoo that Zlatko had somehow managed to get his hands on.

BeeBee was the only android that was unable to tell him how she came into Zlatko's possession, so he was left to come up with theories of how the man had managed to get something that was never meant to be owned by the general public.

BeeBee pressed her nose into Rook's hand, chuffing at her before flopping onto the floor to make herself easier to pet.

Peter moved back into Daniel as the floor cracked, the android reacted by quickly wrapping his arm around the young human's chest to catch him. An apologetic look flashed across his face as his LED turned red for a moment as the rough contact had caused Peter to flinch in pain, but he let Daniel hold him as he knew the android didn't hurt him on purpose.

His hand shot up in surprise to grip the one Daniel had splayed on his chest, though he calmed quickly upon seeing what had shot from the void was just a lemon. He felt the PL600 shift behind him, but he didn't react as he knew Daniel was likely scanning him to make sure he was okay. Dan did it to him frequently enough that he could recognize the action without looking, and unlike other humans it didn't bug him, since he knew it was just a way for an android to confirm to themselves a human was in good health.

Peter let go of Daniel's hand after a moment, signaling to the android it was safe to let him go so he could help unpack the new computers. Daniel easily recognized them as to be similar to the ones at the police station, but it was clear they were designed to handle the tasks Brent and Peter would be using them for. Zlatko's laptops had done the job the best they could, but they weren't made with the intention of fixing and printing parts for androids, it took a lot more power to repair an android then it did to mutilate it.

Daniel watched Peter, glancing at Sixty as the RK800 entered the room. He knew the android was curious about all the traffic in and out of the basement as usually it was never this busy in the house, so naturally Sixty had to find out what all the excitement was about. He turned his attention to the human as Sixty crowded Peter to get a look at what was in the crate.

Daniel nodded as he watched the two, knowing it was better to keep a close eye on Sixty and Peter as the two had a tendency to get each other riled up which lead to one of them doing something stupid most of the time. "Most androids I've met deviated due to being mistreated by their owners, which usually resulted in the human winding up dead. Dan and Vincent are the rare ones where mistreatment had nothing to do with them deviating. One was worried about the human he had a deep bond with, and the other because he'd never been left alone before." Vincent deviating seemed simple on the surface, but it was just as impactful as Dan's had been on his personality.

"His behavior is a very exciting learning experience for me, I'm still surprised by how he can work himself up over something like chess." Daniel laughed a bit, he'd never seen a human loose their mind over something like chess, and Peter did it in a way that was amusing instead of annoying.

"Everyone has something they need to work on." He turned his head as Dan rejoined them with Vincent in tow. He was surprised to find the AP700 messing with his damaged ear as it was one of his self soothing habits to trace the blue cracks, mapping out every imperfection with his finger tips seemed to distract him just enough to stay put instead of running away from whatever was upsetting him.

Strasky wasn't far behind, he was giving Vincent a worried look as he tried his best to figure out what had caused the android to be so anxious.

Vincent was quickly tucking himself under the desk and into a corner, his red LED lighting up the darkened space as he busied himself with the plush toy he was stitching together.

"I thought he could benefit from being around strangers for a bit, help him get used to it." Dan explained, even if the AP700 was hiding he felt it was still progress as the skittish android hadn't tried to get away and flee instantly.

The two PL600s turned to look at Peter and Sixty as the two accidentally butted heads as they'd reached for the same thing in the crate. The RK800 twitched slightly as the damaged part of his forehead was jostled before he grabbed out something else, so he wouldn't knock skulls with the human again.

Dan watched as Sixty and Peter did their best to not trip over each other as they started setting up one of the new computers. "Sometimes I wonder were the rest of the RK800s went. Connor is 51, and Sixty is well 60, so that leaves a good number unaccounted for." He felt Cyberlife likely destroyed them after the revolution, and somehow Sixty was sent to the junkyard with the only RK900 instead of going straight to the crusher.

Dan shook his head then looked at Daniel, who returned the eye contact. "I don't know who's eyes are freakier. Yours or Nines." Daniel chuckled as Dan gave him an unamused look. "There is such a thing as too blue, Dan."

The android nodded, accepting the apology. It was easy to forget he used to be one of the many who had to endure Zlatko's experiments, before he was able to escape. That wretched human was the only responsible for the irreversible damage to his memory.

He had vowed to never return, but he had to rethink that decision when it turned out someone else was living on the property and they were working with androids.

"Oh, so somebody wanted a really fancy plushie." Still, Rook was delighted to have a chance to pet a polar bear. She approached the way she approached dragons, with one hand stretched out in front of her, fingers loosely curled. "Are there android kids too?"

Her focus remained on that, even as a crack began forming on the floor, before it split open to make way to a pool of inky blackness.

"Do not panic. I asked for express delivery." Willow said as various crates emerged in pristine condition.

Bishop got closer to examine the anomaly, only for the void to shoot something at him. The projectile was swiftly caught before it could hit him in the face and he looked down to stare at a lemon. Somehow, he wasn't surprised by this.

"Your order has arrived." the agent said dryly. He started ripping the crates open with his bare hands. Having heard these new computers would sensibly speed up the process, he figured they should set them up right away.

And while at it, he would gladly have a look at what passed for commercial use machines around here. If asked he'd point out they should check whether Willow had ordered the right items to be stolen.

"Makes sense. At least you got a funnier guy to watch now and I think his brother needs to talk to somebody. If deviating makes androids want to hurt themselves and he had to be in the middle of the revolution, Dan probably has some feelings to address."

[hannahbarberra162]

A Mean Mean Marco ask from @quinloki

@quinloki 's ask is below the cut. I was actually writing nice Marco but this pulled me to the dark side (I'm not complaining). I definitely DO want to answer it but it is terrible wonderful mean Marco goodness (badness?).

TW: dead dove, dub / non-con, needles mentioned, Reader beware.

Also this is OOC (mine not Quin's) because idk I just wanted to write this.

Oh Quin. Oh my delightful, wonderful Quin. I absolutely love your version...here's my take.

You looked at the small jewelry box in Marco's hands with confusion. It was really all you could do since you were bound with your hands above your head and a spreader bar keeping your legs apart as you tried to maintain your position on your tiptoes. A gag was keeping you quiet but you wouldn't have said a word without it, either.

"Don't you love it yoi?" Marco asked you, drinking in your reaction. You didn't know what to make of the gift so you just nodded. Inside the box were 5 small golden hoops, each about the size of your pinkie nail. They were delicate and pretty but you couldn't understand what they had to do with you.

"There's a second part to the gift that will come later," he said while affectionately pinching your cheek. You tried not to jerk back as his hand approached your face, you knew he didn't like that.

"Aren't you curious what it is?" Marco asked calmly, picking up one of the rings in his large fingers. You nodded, unease filling your chest as Marco smiled at you. Nothing good ever came from that lazy, relaxed smile.

"I thought you might be tired of the clamps yoi. After all, you cried for so long after the last session outside, I thought you would never stop. So this is something we will do instead. Isn't that nice yoi?" You felt a bead of sweat down your back and an invisible weight against your neck. Marco set the ring back in the box and walked behind you taking the box with him.

You couldn't strain your neck far enough from your position to watch him but you quickly heard a cart being wheeled in your direction. Marco shortly returned with a cart full of medical looking equipment. You shook as you remembered some of your previous "inspections" which made Marco laugh lightly.

"No, no. Nothing like that, pet. I'm adorning you in my colors, permanently," he said. He had clamps, another jewelry box, needles, alcohol pads...and the rings. Your heart sank as you realized his intention - he was going to pierce you with permanent jewelry.

Five rings meant five piercings, you thought. As if answering your question, Marco began speaking to you again.

"One for each ear," he said, rubbing an earlobe between the pads of his fingers.

"One for each nipple," he continued, biting your left nipple for emphasis, causing you to flinch back.

"And one for your clit," he finished, running his finger through your slit. Due to a previous edging session, you were already soaked through your folds.

You tried shifting, wiggling, squirming, anything to get away from his hands, but all that got you was a swat on your already abused cunt. You whined but tried to keep your sounds to a minimum, not wanting to give him what he wanted.

"Hm. That is not the reaction I was anticipating yoi. So ungrateful, so disrespectful. I was going to put numbing cream on your clit for that piercing but you don't deserve it. Usually these piercings take weeks to heal but of course, that's not the case with me yoi. I'll be able to adorn you with my feathers this very night," he said, opening the second box. Inside were many metal teal feathers hanging from hooks.

Marco removed one and held the hook between his fingers, allowing the feather to dangle. The small hook matched the yellow gold of the hoops and glinted in the light as he turned them over in his fingers.

"Each one weighs only a quarter of a pound. Let's see how many feathers your nipples can wear for me," he said, snapping on latex gloves.

"Maybe if you show your appreciation, I can be the only one in feathers."

[patchesproblem]

If you don't know who any of these people are just vote based off of vibes. I'm curious as to what the general population thinks about this. Please reblog if you vote, ty <3

[nedeii]

Yay! It's been like two years :'), but my commissions are currently open! The slots are limited, please do take a look if you're interested:

https://ko-fi.com/nedeii/commissions

[heylittleriotact]

I've never heard this banter and I'm going to go the fuck off.

Firstly: Everything @emmg said. The whole "I want to become a lich" arc is actually incredibly contentious for my death-positive, mortality embracing Rook. Like to the point where she basically tells him at one point: "I really like you, and I really like us, and it's important to me that you're happy, so I won't try to change your mind or interfere with your plans, but I think it's only right to be transparent now about the fact that I can't see a future for us should you successfully pursue lichdom." She's very up-front about it, because she isn't at all comfortable with the radical change of the entire power dynamic of their relationship: they would no longer be equals, and she's not interested in ultimately becoming one more rag that he's dragging behind him (to quote the absolutely beautiful song by Josh Ritter called 'The Curse' which is about an Egyptologist who discovers a mummy who comes back to life and they fall in love but since he is undead and she is mortal, it ends tragically and it reminds me SO MUCH OF a Emm!Lich/Rook romance, or honestly any future romances he might find himself in as a Lich.) Here - listen to it: go. Right now. Cute af music video too:

Secondly: BULLSHIT, EMMRICH. That's such absolute fucking bullshit. "There's always something to discover in the world" and "I think I should never grow tired of that" are both such insanely pompous, self-aggrandizing statements that he flings out there in an effort to frame himself in the light he wants to be perceived in: the Quintessential Academic - forever curious and eternally learning: an inspiration to curious and inquisitive minds everywhere to be celebrated and lauded for his immeasurable services to society.

The truth is, he knows it's bullshit, and is painfully aware that lichdom - even without a partner or someone like Rook is bound to be soul-crushingly lonely. Dude is lonely af and he's still got a fucking PULSE. But he's made it this far in life shouldering the burden of feeling like he'll never find someone. Loneliness isn't new to him, and it's really easy to suggest that after a few thousand years of existence under one's belt that picking up new friends will be as easy as popping down to the pub and saying "hi" to a stranger. Pffft! Trifles!

Emmrich is smarter than that. He knows better than that, but he's trying to convince himself just as much as he's trying to convince Lucanis that having to embrace the fleeting, transitory nature of relationships as he watches the ebb and flow of life and death cycle repeatedly before his eyes is not only what he wants, but it's what will make him happy and it's such a brazen contradiction of himself that if my Rook overheard this she would be unable to keep herself from snorting and going, "... really?"

This man is trying to put himself above love and friendships and relationships in a way that makes them seem like specimens to be studied and written about, when we know that he's probably written no less than a dozen poems about how Rook's hair looks in the sunlight, and is annoying the shit out of Vorgoth and Myrna because all of his letters home since he and Rook got together are less about their progress against the gods, and more about how absolutely wonderful Rook is and how pleased he is that he decided to accompany her on this journey blah blah blah...

He's collected a little family with the Veilguard, and he makes no secret of how much he cares for all of them.

Delusional, pookie: you're fucking delusional.

Lucanis and Emmrich about immortality

[blood-starved-beast]

Prometheus: *Makes good and compelling arguments and/or make threats regarding the Fates of the gods and about mortals' autonomy*

Melinoe: